Okay, so you'll need to really savour this one. I'm going to be busy over the next few weeks and may not get the opportunity to update, which I apologize for, but - life.

Hope it's been worth the wait and that you don't mind having a little patience with me going forward!

Riot was uncharacteristically accommodating over the following few days. Not only did he not drag her anywhere or manhandle her into the shower because she offended his delicate sense of smell, he spent most of his time catering to her needs - inasmuch as a Yautja could. Meals were hand delivered from the mess, he allowed her to sleep when and for as long as she wished, and even set himself to cleaning her armor - which she'd discovered had graduated from a pile on the floor to a place of honour on the shelving beside his own. When she complained of boredom, he even fetched his books from their new hiding place outside his quarters for her to read.

And that was fine. For a while.

But eventually all the lazing around/recovering grew tiresome. There was only so long one could stare at the same four walls. And as much as she'd appreciated the gesture, reading wasn't exactly Pheist's favourite pastime. She got more satisfaction out of reading aloud to him, something he seemed enthralled by, perhaps because he could put the words he understood in written form together with their spoken counterparts. Or perhaps because he simply enjoyed the sound of her voice. Her money was on the former, however.

Tossing and turning one night, which was not generally advised with fractured ribs, she finally came to the end of her patience.

"Take me to the healing pools," she insisted into the darkness, knowing he wasn't asleep either owing to the soft growls of irritation he emitted every time she changed positions.

Riot grunted and this time was the one to roll over, giving her his back, something he wouldn't have dared do only a week ago.

Pushing herself up with a wince, she reached out to very gently tug one of his dreads.

This elicited a firmer snarl as he turned onto his back again and fixed her with what she assumed was meant to be a warning look.

Healing water. Take me. She made the signs slowly, not for his benefit, but because she still needed to be careful with her flesh and blood arm. Abrupt or jerky motions were painful.

You sleep.

Pheist snorted. Sleep many times. Take me. Not tired. She paused and smirked. No more… she mimed massaging his head, if not take me.

This got his attention. He clicked speculatively, weighing out his options, and then got up.

Climbing off the bed, she followed him triumphantly, padding barefoot through the halls to the lift. It was halfway through the sleep cycle, or thereabouts, so there weren't any others around on the upper level. They headed through the kehrite and into the room with the bubbling pools and she eagerly cast her robe off and stepped into the water. It stung her injured foot something fierce at first, but as she eased down further, the throbbing faded. She took an experimentally deeper than normal breath once submerged up to her shoulders for a few moments, and while her ribs certainly still twinged, it was far more tolerable than it usually was.

Rather than join her right away, Riot went to the cabinet the 'aseigan had accessed on their previous visit, returning with a handful of the small vials of oils. He removed his loincloth and entered the pool beside her, holding out his offering.

"Oh so this is your price for humouring me, is it?" She might have guessed he'd not given in without first plotting how the outing could be advantageous to him. He was ever thinking ahead, planning his actions four or five moves out, both in the kehrite and in their interactions. His cunning impressed her much of the time - when she wasn't too pissed to admit it.

For you, he signed with his free hand, taking her aback.

For me?

He captured the wet ends of her hair, floating on the surface of the water, in explanation.

Pheist just laughed, and for the first time in a while it didn't kill to do so. "Why do you find it so mesmerizing?" She took the bottles and found the one she'd used the last time. Dipping her head back, she wet the rest of her hair and began to work the oil through it and into a lather. As before, it was slow going with all the tangles, made doubly so by her still healing arm, which she could only use tentatively.

Noting her struggles, Riot lifted his hand, and she held still as he raked his talons gently through the snarled mass, watching her closely for any indication she didn't appreciate the help.

"Go on, then," she encouraged, lowering her own arms.

He chuffed and brought his other hand up as well, setting himself to the task with evident zeal. His claws scraped the back of her skull in a manner which made it difficult to think straight and she wondered if other males reciprocated these types of ministrations. The two 'aseigan from before had been female, but apart from those in that caste and the one who'd repaired her breastplate, she never saw other female Yautja on the ship. Then again, she hadn't explored much of it. It had sounded like, from what Lola said, the males and females didn't interact much or at all after the deed was done, but what about beforehand? Were there mating rituals? Did they court?

Exhaling in languid delight, she slumped forward until her forehead rested against his chest. Coming here had been a stroke of genius. Not only did her battered body feel exponentially better, Riot was shockingly adept at comatose inducing hairplay. His talons trailed from her crown all the way down the back of her neck and over her shoulders, gliding through tangles with envied ease. The brush she'd dreamed about countless times now felt entirely unnecessary.

A slow rumble was building from within him, but it seemed different from other times. Less relaxed, more urgent. In truth it was an odd and pleasing mixture, half-growl half-purr, and Pheist soon realized the meaning behind it when he drew her in closer, bringing their bodies flush. An unmistakable bulge pressed into her stomach.

Since his claws continued to comb through her hair, she took a moment to gauge her own response. To deny the fact she was attracted to him despite their differing species would have been beyond ignorant on her part. She'd sensed it nearly from the start, even when she'd been frightened for her life. There'd always been something about him. And getting to know him, to understand him - as much as he allowed her to do so - and to respect him had only intensified the attraction. She didn't know to what extent his own feelings ran, or if there were any apart from desire; both sexual and to have her hunt by his side, but he'd cared enough to save her. To give his blood and to wait with her until he'd known she would survive. In her time there he'd never shown that kind of attachment to another. She'd been his constant companion these past weeks and before her, she didn't know that he'd had anyone. Anyone at all to share his life with. Perhaps that was normal for his kind, but it seemed more to her that he was an outcast. Whether the isolation was self-inflicted or otherwise, she was flattered that he'd chosen her to change that with.

Beneath the water, she brought her palms up to lay flat against his abdomen. Slowly, she slid them up over the rigid and defined muscles, breaking the surface as they traversed his pectorals.

His own hands left her hair and travelled down her back, the contrast between where calluses and talons skimmed raising gooseflesh. The timber of the reverberations deepened, which Pheist took as a sign he liked what she was doing.

Emboldened, she lifted one leg, running the inside of her thigh up the length of his and hooking it around his leg as high up as she could conceivably reach. The height difference was going to prove a problem. When his hands reached her hips she gripped his shoulders and pulled herself up, prompting him to take her weight, which he did. The friction of his smooth, pebbled hide sliding against her more sensitive regions produced a soft noise of unexpected pleasure which immediately seemed to intrigue him. His fingers dug into her skin and he gathered her more firmly against his arousal, an act that caused her breath to hitch.

"Easy," she mumbled, knowing what was to come was going to be uncomfortable at first. He was large. In every sense of the word. Just thinking about it made her mouth grow dry. Swallowing, she touched his face to ensure she had his attention. Slow, she advised him as nerves over what they were about to do accosted her.

Riot hadn't stopped rumbling, but as though sensing her agitation, the more familiar and soothing purr she was accustomed to came to the forefront. He lowered his head, his mandibles flitting across her neck and over her shoulder, lightly touching her in a way he never had before. When she leaned back a little to grant him access, he explored down her collarbone and breasts, his fleeting caresses melting away her worries. Whether he'd done this before or not, he was the epitome of perception, reading every subtle reaction, every change in her breathing and small moan he drew forth expertly.

Pheist came to understand this was a hunt of a different kind for him; a pursuit not of prey, but of pleasure. She could feel her need building, achy and hot. While patience was not a virtue she could associate with him, in this instance at least he possessed the greater amount. Writhing against him, she brought his focus back to where she wanted it now and did her best not to tense up as he pushed inside her without delay.

The cadence of his growl deepened once more, but he made his intrusion into her most vulnerable of places controlled and slow as she'd cautioned him, waiting for her contracted passage to soften before he pulled back and repeated the motion.

She was somewhat in awe that he fit, but that awe rapidly turned to bliss as he thrust steadily into her. Wanting him to derive the same euphoria she was, she buried one hand into his mane while the other continued to grip his shoulder, anchoring her upper body. Her legs had clamped around his hips, grinding their bodies together to create even more delicious heat. At one point she realized the low and feminine sounds of lust were coming from her, but she was far past the ability to mind. Past the ability to mentally function at all, really. Staring into Riot's captivating golden eyes, she could feel herself approaching the edge. Climax hit her hard, wringing a cry of ecstasy from her, and it was all she could do to bury her face into his dreads as the waves of pleasure rolled unrelentingly through her.

A moment later he joined her, stiffening, his hold on her becoming painful as every muscle in his considerable frame seemed to seize simultaneously. The bellow which left him was filled with passion and his entire body shuddered with the force of it. As the ringing roar died away, his grip once again slackened. Small tremors racked him seemingly from head to toes, giving the sensation that he was shivering as he held her close.

Pheist felt him relax back against the edge of the pool, his breathing more laboured than she'd ever heard it before. She lifted her head as her own erratic heartbeat began to slow and noted in amusement that his eyes were now closed and he appeared supremely sated, his mandibles hanging loose and not a trace of tension anywhere in his features. She leaned in and brushed her lips over his jaw.

"That was nice. Let's do it again some time," she suggested, having to grin when he chuffed his agreement, eyes remaining shut.