“Don’t stop,” I managed, the words emerging as a breathless plea.
His tail continued its torturous ascent while his hands worked to unfasten the ties of my dress. The garden was secluded, hidden from view by tall hedges and stone walls, but even if it hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have cared. All that mattered was his touch, his scent enveloping me, the growing need that threatened to consume us both.
When my dress finally fell open, Vuhr let out a sound that was pure animal appreciation. His gaze swept over my exposed skin with such hunger that I felt it like a physical caress. The tip of his tail brushed against the damp fabric of my undergarments, and my hips bucked involuntarily.
“So responsive,” he rumbled, satisfaction evident in his tone. His mouth descended to my breast, tongue laving over a taut nipple while his tail continued its exploration, slipping beneath the fabric to find the slick evidence of my arousal.
I cried out at the first direct contact, my head falling back as pleasure arced through me like lightning. The texture of his tail was exquisite—smooth but with just enough friction to create the most delicious sensation as it circled my most sensitive flesh.
“Vuhr,” I gasped, clinging to him as my legs threatened to give way. “I need—I need?—”
“I know what you need,” he promised, his voice a dark velvet that wrapped around me as surely as his tail did. He lowered us both to the grass, my back cushioned by the soft earth. “Let me give it to you.”
What followed was a symphony of sensation—his mouth hot and demanding on mine, his hands reverent as they explored my body, and his tail, oh gods, his tail moving with precise,deliberate strokes that built pleasure upon pleasure until I was writhing beneath him.
When I finally shattered, it was with his name on my lips and his forehead pressed to mine, our breath mingling as waves of ecstasy washed through me. I felt him shudder against me, his own release following mine, triggered by the intimate connection of his tail to my pleasure.
In the aftermath, we lay tangled together, his wings creating a canopy that sheltered us from the world. His tail remained coiled possessively around my thigh, a weight that felt strangely right, as if it had always belonged there.
“Next time,” I murmured against his chest, “you’ll have to teach me how to touch your tail properly.”
His rumbling laugh vibrated through my body, a promise of explorations yet to come. “I look forward to that lesson, little human.”
I smiled against his skin, knowing that this strange, beautiful creature and I had just forged something deeper than a cohabitation agreement. Something that felt remarkably like belonging.
eight
The officiant’s chambers looked different this time—brighter somehow, though nothing about the austere government office had actually changed. Same worn chairs, same scratched desk, same flickering light panel that cast everyone in a sickly blue glow. Yet as I walked in beside Vuhr, his massive frame a comforting presence at my side rather than an intimidating one, I realized the difference was in me. My steps were steadier. My spine straighter. My hand, when it brushed against Vuhr’s, didn’t flinch away but lingered, savoring the connection.
The officiant glanced up from her terminal, recognition flaring in her tired eyes. She was the same one who had processed our initial paperwork—a middle-aged woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a severe knot and fingers stained with ink from the physical stamps she still preferred to digital alternatives.
“The Manticore and his human,” she remarked, voice dry as ancient parchment. “Back for the final signatures, I presume?”
“Yes,” Vuhr answered, his deep voice rumbling through the small space. His wing shifted subtly, the edge of it brushingagainst my back in what I now recognized as a protective gesture.
The officiant’s gaze flicked between us, lingering on our proximity, the casual way we stood together. Something in her expression softened imperceptibly. “You seem more settled than when you first came in.”
I smiled, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “We’ve had some time to adjust to the arrangement.”
“Hmm.” She tapped her screen, and documents materialized on the surface of her desk. “Final cohabitation agreement requires biometric verification, witness statements attesting to mutual consent, and confirmation of living arrangements.” She looked up at us. “I assume the previously filed domicile is still accurate?”
Vuhr nodded. “The homestead outside the eastern boundary.”
“The desert property,” she murmured, making a notation. “Unusual choice for a human.”
“Not for this human,” I said quietly, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice.
The officiant’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she made no comment, instead sliding the first document toward me. “Press your palm here, please.”
I placed my hand on the indicated space, feeling the warm tingle of the scanner reading my biodata. As I did, I caught sight of my reflection in the polished surface of the desk—cheeks flushed with health, eyes clear and bright. When had that happened? When had the hollowed look of mere survival been replaced by something that looked remarkably like contentment?
Two weeks ago, I had been scraping by in the human quarter, taking any job that would keep a roof over my head and food in my belly. The Cross-Species Cohabitation Act had seemed like just another survival tactic—a way to secure better living conditions and the protection that came with a non-human sponsor. I had expected to endure whatever came with it, as I had endured everything else life had thrown at me.
I hadn’t expected to find this—this warmth that spread through my chest whenever Vuhr looked at me, this sense of rightness when his tail coiled possessively around my ankle, this feeling that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
The scanner beeped, confirming my identity. The officiant turned to Vuhr, who extended his massive hand toward the device. His claws, usually retracted when dealing with human affairs, were partially extended—a sign of emotion he wasn’t entirely containing.
“Are you certain of this commitment?” the officiant asked him, her professional neutrality slipping to reveal genuine curiosity. “The human population is still uncertain about the Act. Some cohabitations have dissolved within the first month.”
