His breeding tentacles are already partially extended, and I can see how much he wants this. But he's still holding back, still putting my needs first.
I run my hands down his chest, feeling the ridges of muscle under scaled skin. His body is familiar and alien at once, perfectly designed for both power and pleasure. When my hand wraps around his primary breeding tentacle, he makes a sound that reverberates through the water.
“Female should not?—”
“Should not what? Touch my mate? Give him pleasure?” I stroke slowly, learning the rhythm he likes. “You've been so controlled, so careful. Always making sure I'm okay, the babies are okay, everyone is taken care of. But who takes care of you?”
“This one does not need?—”
“Yes, you do.” I lean down to kiss his chest, his neck, his jaw. “You need this. You need to let go. You need to remember you're not just a father. You're also mine.”
That breaks something in him. His control splinters, and suddenly his tentacles are everywhere, wrapping around me, positioning me. His primary breeding tentacle aligns with my entrance, and when he pushes inside, we both groan.
The sensation is overwhelming after weeks apart. He's so thick, stretching me perfectly, and my body remembers exactly how this feels. Better than this feels, because we've done this so many times that my modified anatomy has shaped itself to him. We fit together like puzzle pieces, designed for each other.
“Female is perfect,” he gasps as he begins to move. “So tight. So wet. So ready for this one.”
I can't form words anymore. Can only feel him moving inside me, the ridges on his tentacle hitting every sensitive spot, the lock forming at the base to keep us connected. His other tentacles work my body, creating layers of pleasure that build on each other until I can't tell where one sensation ends and another begins.
The second orgasm is stronger than the first. My inner walls clamp down on him, pulling him deeper, and I feel him pulseinside me. Seed floods my womb, so much seed, and part of me mourns that it can't create more eggs. Not yet. Not until these twelve are grown enough to survive without constant care.
But the claiming feels the same. The rightness of being locked together, his body pouring into mine, our chemistry recognizing each other.
“Missed this,” I gasp when I can speak again. “Missed you.”
“Female never lost this one. Was always here.”
“You know what I mean.” I rest my forehead against his chest, feeling his tentacles wrapped around me protectively. “Missed being your mate, not just your partner in raising offspring.”
“Female is both. Will always be both.” He strokes my hair, his touch infinitely gentle. “But this one understands. Missed mating with female beyond just breeding. Missed pleasure for its own sake.”
We stay locked together for a long time, neither of us ready to separate. His seed continues pulsing into me in smaller amounts, and I feel my body accepting it eagerly. The modifications from carrying eggs have made me even more compatible with him. My womb pulls his seed deeper, holds it longer, ensures none is wasted.
Eventually, the lock releases and he withdraws slowly. I feel the usual flood of wetness, his seed and mine mixing, coating my thighs. The sensation should be uncomfortable, but it just makes me feel claimed. Marked. His.
“The children will wake soon,” Aylth observes, though he makes no move to leave the sleeping ledge.
“Probably. But we have a little time still.” I curl against his chest, feeling safe and sated and loved. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being patient. For waiting until I was ready. For still wanting me after everything changed.”
“Female should not thank this one for desiring her. Desire is not gift. It is truth.” His tentacles wrap around me, holding me close. “This one will want female when she is old. When scales are dull and body moves slowly. When offspring are grown and gone. Desire is not based on appearance or convenience. It is based on who female is.”
The words make my chest tight. “I love you.”
It's the first time I've said it directly. We've implied it hundreds of times, shown it through actions, but the actual words have never seemed necessary. Until now.
“This one knows,” he says, and his voice carries harmonics of deep satisfaction. “Female has shown this truth since choosing to return after running. Since defending territory while this one was weak. Since carrying twelve eggs and hatching them perfectly.”
“But you should hear it anyway. I love you. Not just because you're the father of my children. Not just because you've been patient and kind and devoted. But because you're you. Because forty seasons of waiting built something magnificent. Because you see me as strong even when I feel weak.”
His arms tighten around me. “This one loves female with everything. Would wait forty more seasons if necessary. Would wait until the reef crumbled to dust. Would wait forever if it meant spending eternity with her.”
We kiss again, soft and slow and full of promise. The passion from earlier has burned down to steady warmth, but it's just as intimate. More intimate, maybe, because it's not driven by desperation or denied need. Just genuine love between two souls who had crossed a universe to meet.
A cry sounds from one of the sleeping ledges. Kael, probably, waking from a dream.
