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Luke’s gaze followed the movement, as Syrus knew it would. When he predictably flushed and attempted to refocus his attention, Syrus caught his eye.

“Would you like a closer look?”

He kept his tone light, making a game of hiding the full depth of his hunger. How much he wanted Luke to look. To see him. To touch him.

Luke’s first experiences of Syrus’s true form had been met by fear and more than a hint of revulsion, but those were gone now, scattered away like sands on the wind. Luke was curious, no longer ashamed of the way he found beauty in Syrus’s strangeness.

And that was crucial, wasn’t it? Because yes, Syrus might have seduced Luke as a man, but there was more to Syrus than that. And he wanted—needed—Luke wrapped up in all of it. Every side of him, every tendril that might tie them together. Because Luke was solid and grounded and so very human, and Syrus’s pull had to be just as powerful as all that.

Luke shifted warily on his stool, so maybe Syrus hadn’t been completely successful in covering his greed. “I can see you fine from here.”

Syrus tutted, swishing his fins once more. “Can you really?”

He left it at that, and Luke’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Syrus held very still, his fin’s rhythmic movement his only motion. There was a certain pleasure in the sharp sting now. A purpose to the pain.

He was rewarded for his restraint. Luke sighed, then swore, then muttered something that sounded like, “Never going to finish this damn table,” before rising from his stool. He approached the futon, kneeling in front of Syrus.

Yes. That’s it. Come closer, pretty human.

Syrus expected Luke to go straight for the tail—his most exquisite feature, surely—but sweet Luke surprised him again. He kept himself eye level to Syrus’s face instead, studying him carefully, seeming to note the slight differences there. The blue tinge to Syrus’s lips, perhaps, or the feathered points to his ears.

He was so delightfully intent and focused that Syrus lost the battle and couldn’t help playfully snapping his sharp teeth, but Luke didn’t even flinch at the gesture. His fearful, frantic energy from earlier had already faded away during their time together in the garage, and now he merely raised his brows at Syrus’s teasing and turned his attention lower.

His gaze traveled down Syrus’s torso—quite humanesque, if one ignored the odd sheen to his skin—and then over to the spur on Syrus’s forearm, which Luke eyed curiously but wisely chose not to touch. And finally back over and down to Syrus’s scar, where Luke fanned careful fingers over the portion emerging from Syrus’s tail. Syrus hummed at the gentle contact.

“What happened?” Luke asked, his voice soft.

“I was crashed against some rocks.” By a human boat, Syrus didn’t deign to mention. “Almost split in two. My pod saved me.”

Luke’s lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. “So they weren’t entirely useless.”

“No,” Syrus agreed, grinning at the protectiveness in Luke’s tone. “Not entirely.”

Luke stroked his fingertips along the scar’s length once and then twice more, and Syrus clenched his fists to keep from reaching out to him. He wanted to give Luke this time to explore at his own pace, for whatever that small patience was worth. Syrus knew he could be demanding and insistent, but he wasn’t completely unaware of the vast mental distance Luke was crossing to accept this potential union.

Finally, Luke moved his attention to Syrus’s tail. He didn’t ask before touching it, a small confidence Syrus relished disproportionate to its probable significance. Luke only placed another soft touch along the flesh there, right where human skin gave way fully, and let out a small gasp.

“The scales…”

Syrus’s grin turned smug. “Yes, dearest?”

“They’re not scales. Not like a fish at all.” Luke ran his fingers along the shallow grooves, his eyes widening in wonder. “They’re a pattern. Solid, but textured.”

“Mm,” Syrus agreed. “I am no mere fish, am I?” There was more bite to his words than necessary, but maybe Syrus had been more affected by Luke’s initial reaction to his appearance than he’d realized. Or maybe it was still the phrase dry out ringing in the air.

Luke smiled softly. “I know that.”

He continued to pet Syrus in his gentle way, the calluses on his fingers rasping deliciously against Syrus’s flesh. And when Luke eventually raised his gaze, there was a question there. Probably many questions. But there was one Syrus knew Luke must have been dying to ask, and Syrus wasn’t quite patient enough to let him get away with not asking it.

“Is there something else you’d like to know, sweet Luke?” Syrus lowered his voice to the croon he knew Luke couldn’t resist. “Where my impressive cock might be hiding, perhaps?”

19

LUKE

“Where my impressive cock might be hiding, perhaps?”

Luke swallowed with a dry throat, his gaze dropping automatically to the midline of Syrus’s tail, some inches lower from where Luke was still touching the firm blue skin.