I step out of the shower, a towel slung low on my hips. “Timalah,” Miles gets out, rushing towards me. His eyes look me up and down and I try my best not to preen. “I told you to call me when you were done so I could help you.”
I snort at Miles’ antics. “I didn’t need you to give me a sponge bath. Not unless you really wish to,” I add with a little wink.
Miles crosses his arms over his chest but there’s the tiniest smile on his lips, one he’s trying to hide. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling more like yourself, Tim.”
I reach out with my tail and smack his hip. “Don’t butcher my name.”
He gives me a dramatic roll of his eyes before turning around. I can see the way the tips of his ears are pink, standing stark against his golden hair. “Just hurry up and get dressed. I made you dinner while you were taking the longest shower ever.”
What he doesn’t need to know is my shower was so long because I’d spent the longest time thinking about him while my palm was wrapped around my cock and my tail was pressing against my hole. I really don’t think that would help his blush in the slightest. Despite the way he’s been showing me affection and giving me gentle touches, I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. All I wanna do is pull him against me and thank him for everything by kissing him. But I’m biding my time, waiting for him to give me a sign that he wants this as much as I do.
“I’m on it,” I say before going to the spare bedroom Miles has me set up in. I put on my cloth pants, finding them so much more comfortable than the jeans Miles had tried to offer me, making sure to roll them down in the back so my tail doesn’t get cramped. But I do put on one of his shirts. I take a moment just to sniff at the collar, a smile playing on my lips as I take in his scent. I feel warm all over wearing his clothes as I step into the kitchen, my steps faltering only a moment when I find the table all set.
I sit down, watching Miles with rapt attention as he places a plate in front of me. My eyes go back to the table, taking in the arrangement of flowers and candles lighting up the middle of the table. My heart skips a beat as I wrack my brain for the meaning. Is there a hidden meaning behind this display? Is this some sort of human thing? Or is this how humans always share a meal together.
By the slight blush of Miles’ cheeks, I’m guessing I’m missing something. It’s frustrating, always having that thin layer of misunderstanding between us, highlighting how different we truly are. But right now, I try to focus solely on Miles’ smile and the warmth he makes me feel in the pit of my belly. I might not be human but I’ll follow his lead, trusting him to steer me right.
Miles’ table is small, perfect for a one person home. Instead of sitting across from me, he sits directly to my right. He bites his lip nervously, looking down at the food. “I hope this is alright.”
I reach over, touching his wrist gently. “This is perfect. Thank you, Miles.”
Miles gives me a soft smile that warms my belly more than any wine could. That smile is so addicting, all I wanna do is spend the night trying to get him to smile like that again and again.
Unfortunately, that’s not on the agenda for the night as far as I’m aware. So instead, I dig into the food Miles has prepared for me, moaning around my fork. The sauce is rich and tomatoey, covering what Miles has called ‘noodles’ with large chunks of meat. It’s delicious, like nothing I’ve had before.
“This is amazing. You’ll have to teach me how to make this someday.”
Miles looks at me, his eyes more guarded than I’d like. “Why would I teach you? I have to have a reason for you to keep coming over here.”
“Miles,” I say seriously, putting my fork down and turning in my seat. I take a moment to wipe my mouth, making sure I don’t have sauce on my face. “There’s nothing that would keep me from being here as long as you invite me.”
Miles looks down at his plate a long moment before looking up at me. “Then you’ll be here all the time,” he whispers. The air around us grows charged as we gaze into each other’s eyes. Miles looks away first, going back to eating.
“Are you looking forward to the ceremony tomorrow?”
My fork stills as my heart picks up speed. Tomorrow is Saphorica’s maturous trial. Saphorica is a warrior like myself and as such, his time to find a mate before his people and our ancestors has come. It is known that his heart beats for Quill. I assume Quill will be the only one to try for Saphorica’s hand but then again, crazier things have happened.
“I am,” I say carefully. “It’s a great honor when it’s finally your turn. To prove yourself worthy and to find your matron before our people and our ancestors.”
“Will you tell me?” Miles asks carefully, picking up his glass of wine and taking a sip. “About the maturous trial?”
I mirror his posture, sitting back in my chair and sipping my wine. “It’s sacred,” is what I start with, wanting him to truly understand. “This ritual has been passed down from generation to generation. As I’m sure you know, it’s believed that our ancestors are still with us. Living in the wind and the sunlight and the stars, watching us and helping guide us.”
“That’s beautiful,” Miles says, a kind smile on his face. He nods for me to go on.
“A warrior will stand before his people as Ghenie declares him ready for a matron. All those who feel themselves worthy will step forward. Sometimes there will be only one person. I predict tomorrow there will only be one as Saphorica and Quill are already known to have feelings for each other. Sometimes there are many who step forward.”
Miles clears his throat. “When it’s your turn, how many do you think will step up?”
My heart is racing against my ribs, my tail wrapping itself around my ankle and tightening, not wanting to lash out in irritation. “It doesn’t truly matter,” I say softly. “There will be as many as wish to compete. But I trust in the maturous trial and that my one, true partner will find his way to me.”
Miles nods to himself, staring down into his wine. All I wanna do is reach out and touch him, to find that smile again and smooth away that frown. My tail releases my ankle. It slides over Miles’ thigh. Miles jolts, his eyes widening and for a split second I worry I’ve finally gone too far. But instead he’s reaching down and running his finger over the arrowhead-shaped end. I bite my bottom lip, not wanting to break the moment despite the way the gesture tickles.
“Thank you for explaining,” Miles whispers, his voice barely audible. “Do you know when your maturous trial is?”
I shake my head. “Ghenie decides these things. When someone feels ready, they go to Ghenie and discuss things. Then a date is chosen. There are some exceptions when Ghenie picks when you’re ready for you,” I explain.
I can’t help but smile to myself, thinking about one of my fellow comrades, Charm. He was so fucking stubborn. His heart beat for one, yet he insisted he did not wish to be mated, didn’t want to be in love. The truth was, he was afraid someone else would enter his trial or that Sharoon wouldn’t go through it to be with Charm. So he kept putting it off, saying he wasn’t ready. He would have gone forever if Ghenie had let him. That day, Charm stood in front of our people as Sharoon jumped into the trial and as always, the ancestors led two hearts together into becoming one. Now he’s at home and pregnant with his first child, very happily mated.