Call me Green or Gato | 21 years | This is the side blog of @gatenho-nyah-nyah, focused more on his histories, and toughs, about human-monster (exophilia/teratophili) relationship. THIS CAN COUNTAIN MATURE CONTENT(+18/NSFW)
I wanted to do a little something for mermay with a little monster design! She’s lightly inspired by my OC Ekānta and a very old mermaid piece I did in 2019! All around was a fun idea to revisit!
Back to regular scheduled art pile to share, then it’s artfight prep time!
Summary: In the future, humans are nearly universal surrogates and Earth has taken to profiting off the ability. However, while humans can intermix with aliens, it doesn’t mean it’s without complications.
When Taliyra signed up to be a Companion to an alien, she had expectations. Mainly a lot of sex in an attempt to conceive an alien baby. What she didn’t expect was her counterpart to be so distant and - for lack of a better term - relatively hands off. For all intents and purposes, Khravel seems completely disinterested in her and will not hold a discussion to explain why.
After four months of this behavior, she’s had enough. Confronting Khravel, she gives him an ultimatum: either he sits down and talks with her about what the problem is or she’s going back to Proxypanion and requesting a transfer.
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Part 1 | Master List | Part 14
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Now, after everything, was when Khravel decided to indulge her? After she found out he was a notorious, powerful, dangerous crime lord? Someone who had his fair share of blood on his hands.
Despite her incredulity, a part of her knew it didn't matter. The danger he potentially posed didn't dampen how much she wanted him, what she craved from him. But that didn't mean Taliyra wanted to accept – let alone ponder that – with him standing right there.
Not ready to delve into her internal conflict, a nearly hysterical laugh fell from Taliyra as she instinctively parried. Her lips twisting into a disbelieving smile as she teased, “Because of Ghensil? Are you jealous?”
Those words made Khravel freeze. He'd been watching her carefully, watching as the expressions waffled and crossed over her face, curious as to what sort of thoughts passed in her head, but now her words had him careening down an internal route. “Yigo is personable and affable, things I am not. I saw how you looked at him and Laryse, how you look at him.”
Taliyra's lips twitched again, the smile not reaching her eyes. “And how do I look at him?”
He tilted his head to the side, surveying her with a discerning gaze. “Your eyes brighten and you smile more at him. You flush when he accidentally bumps against you or when he brushes your hair behind your ear.”
“You’ve never seen such things.” She laughed, trying to hide how her heart fluttered nervously and how her cheeks warmed. There was no way he had seen such things. She'd never acted like that around Ghensil when Khravel was present.
“Yes, I have. On security cameras,” he replied, level and calm.
Taliyra’s eyes widened, remembering how Khravel’s very records were suspected of being hacked. Was he also a fucking hacker on top of being a crime boss? Did he have someone else to do it for him?
“As a Delegate, I have access to surveillance systems,” he answered, as if reading her mind.
Of course. And he had taken advantage of that power to spy on her. She faintly wondered if he spied on her in other cases and promptly tried to ignore the heat that stirred in her chest. “Fine, so you’ve been spying on me through cameras, that hardly proves anything.“
He hummed, low and deep, before taking one step forward. “The opera house, the three of you went to see the old Thraxian play, Vhoeria Oien. Yigo sat between you and Laryse, arm draped along the back of your shoulders”
Heat bloomed over her cheeks, her eyes widening. Even though he had shunned her, she was feeling like a child caught red-handed doing something wrong. “He was doing the same to Laryse!”
“His hand was also on your thigh, creeping up the entire show,” Khravel added, his voice low and soft.
His tone didn't ease the fluster lighting through her blood. It felt like her very bones were jittering, caught between anxiety and something else she didn't want to name. Everything was simmering along her body, heating her back and her neck embarrassingly.
Her inner turmoil piqued amusement in Khravel's mind. Not that he was paying much attention to how he was feeling, he was more intent on answering her question. “The art gallery coat room.”
He took another step forward and Taliyra's heart bounced hard in her chest. The way he listed her apparent transgressions so casually gave an added bite to the heat suffusing her body.
“Club Esi’al on the second moon,” he purred, pausing to musingly add, “Quite a lot of grinding on everyone's part.”
An embarrassing squeak left Taliyra as he mentioned the club. Oh, she had nearly forgotten the club. It had been more robust, less subdued, cultural experience. After all, Tivik-4 and their lax social standards made the clubbing scene rather mature. Hence why Club Esi'al was on a moon, where only grown adults could travel.
By the time Khravel finished listing off moments Taliya certainly remembered, he had made it to the back of the couch. She stared up at him, swallowing heavily as she realized the air had grown unbearably warm.
Carefully, he pressed all four of his hands along the back of the couch, leaning toward her. A predatory air swathed around him, natural and intense, even though he wore his most neutral expression. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, her gaze following the movement.
“I’m here to fuck you, Taliyra. Provided you are feeling well enough to take me, of course.” Khravel’s gaze dropped obviously along her body, as if taking inventory of her. She shifted under the look, almost feeling it physically fall over her.
“I-I don’t think I’m in the right headspace.” Her words rushed out, strained and breathless. Feeling his eyes bounce back to her face, Taliyra cleared her throat, but averted her gaze from his. “I was actually about to watch something.”
“In that case, I’ll keep you company, as you have previous requested.” Rounding the couch, he lowered himself on the cushions at the end furthest from Taliyra, fully aware she was trying to get rid of him. He wasn't having that and, at any rate, he was curious what exactly offput her. With a lazy wave to the prepared screen, he leaned back. “Put it on the screen, I'll watch with you.”
When she didn't immediately load the evening's entertainment, Khravel shot her a look.
“You don’t have to stay,” Taliyra muttered, lips puckered as she stared at the empty holo-screen. It took effort to keep the bitterness from seeping into her voice. “I’m sure you’d rather be elsewhere.”
Narrowing his eyes, Khravel's interest piqued. What in the stars had she been preparing to watch that she wouldn't want him seeing? While his brain gave answers – such as personal vids of Ghensil – he found himself asking, “What were you planning on watching?”
Biting her bottom lip, Taliyra's eyes jumped away from Khravel yet again, before swiveling back to him with a pleading look. “If I say porn, will you leave?”
“No,” he drawled instantly, amusement nearly twitching across his lips as she flushed.
“Damn.” Her eyes darted away from him, her shoulders hunching to her shoulders. Pursing her lips, she weighed the options while he silently stared at her. Awkwardness itched along the back of her neck just before she found herself hurriedly saying, “I was going to watch the security footage from the beginning of your campaign.”
With a sigh, her gaze returned to his face, finding his expression momentarily confused.
“Footage?” There hadn't been a formal announcement of his campaign, just… Ah, that footage. “Oh, that. Well, go ahead and put it on.”
“Are you serious?” Whining edged along her word, that pleading expression leaking back into her eyes. Why was he so intent on staying now? Damned man, picking the most inopportune moment to grow a backbone around her.
Khravel inclined his head to her, giving her a steady look before giving a subtle nod toward the screen.
Feeling like an ancient felon being led to the gallows, she sighed and turned to her wrist gauntlet. Heat licked up the back of her neck, feeling Khravel's intent gaze on her. A few taps and the holo-screen shifted color, a room pixelated into focus on screen as her room's lights automatically dimmed.
A newscaster voice-over was narrating the scene, highlighting the players in the room. Only part of Taliyra paid attention as the other part writhed at her current predicament. The surreality of the moment coiled around Taliyra like a cobra, making her heart thumping erratically and an uncertainty buzzing along her veins.
Khravel draped – not simply sat, but draped – himself over the far end of the couch. His two upper arms spread out along the back of the couch, his legs crossed ankle over knee with a hand gripping his foot. His final hand laid along the armrest, fingers tapping. Normally, he never took up this much space.
Taliyra couldn't help but imagine why he was doing it now. In her periphery, she couldn't help but sneak glances between watching the as-of-yet uneventful footage, watching how his chest rose and fell with his breaths, how his fingers tapped, how he stared straight ahead as if the television was displaying something that deserved his unwavering attention and not things he had already lived through.
Forcing her eyes to the screen, Taliyra tried to focus. She hoped watching these clips would settle her emotions, once and for all, even with Khravel acting so differently at her side.
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Want to see Khravel being big and bad? The next chapter is available Patreon! :3c
Summary: In the future, humans are nearly universal surrogates and Earth has taken to profiting off the ability. However, while humans can intermix with aliens, it doesn’t mean it’s without complications.
When Taliyra signed up to be a Companion to an alien, she had expectations. Mainly a lot of sex in an attempt to conceive an alien baby. What she didn’t expect was her counterpart to be so distant and - for lack of a better term - relatively hands off. For all intents and purposes, Khravel seems completely disinterested in her and will not hold a discussion to explain why.
After four months of this behavior, she’s had enough. Confronting Khravel, she gives him an ultimatum: either he sits down and talks with her about what the problem is or she’s going back to Proxypanion and requesting a transfer.
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Part 1 | Master List | Part 13
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To a point, Khravel knew what Taliyra was asking. Why had he clawed through the underbelly’s ranks instead of being a law-abiding citizen? Why had he committed untold atrocities versus whatever milquetoast presumptions she had about him? There was too much to relay in one answer. Even if he could, something in his head wasn’t connecting his thoughts to his mouth. Perhaps it was her proximity, her scent dizzying his mind.
“Because that wasn’t the point,” he answered after a beat of silence, struggling to put the history into words and opting for a simple answer. Distractedly, he caught a lock of Taliyra’s hair between the fingers of one hand, toying with it.
Taliyra’s eyes flicked to his hand, watching as he played with her hair. It felt odd, coming from Khravel, but her stomach still flipped in a strange delight. Her eyebrows dipped as she focused back in on the conversation, her lips curling downward. “The point?”
He sighed, releasing her hair to pinch the area between his eyes, where a human’s bridge would have been. “Children and sex workers don’t hold the power and infringing on the bodily consent of the weak wouldn’t have changed anything.”
When his gaze returned to Taliyra, understanding didn’t bloom over her face. She just stared up at him, uncomprehending.
He hated this. Having to explain himself to anyone always left him agitated. Shouldn’t his reasons have been obvious? Shouldn’t the whole situation have laid itself out to Taliyra in her own head? But she wasn’t Tivikonian. She hadn’t been around when the prior government was in effect and he wasn’t sure how far back she’d read on Tivik’s history.
“Tivik was not always the planet you see today. There was a time when those with the wealth prospered more and more while the poor population were left to suffer,” he slowly began, his attention flicking to a spot above her head so he wouldn’t have to continually stare into her eyes. He’d get distracted doing so, but part of him was afraid she’d see his past flashing through his gaze, even if that was a silly concern. “I watched my whole life as the people around me lived struggling and died struggling. Lack of access to food, housing, adequate medical care. All the while, the rich grew richer and richer, while never seemingly hurting or suffering or dying before their time.”
His tongue flicked out over his lips as his attention tilted back to Taliyra. She stared up at him steadily, intently. There was no overwrought pity in her gaze, but behind the steeliness, there was a soft sympathy that he knew existed. The very thought made prickling sensations coast over his skin. “When I was an adolescent, I started stealing. Food for the hungry, medicine for the sick. As I got older, I realized it was never enough. Started robbing banks, hurting people, arson, and a laundry list of other things, including murder.“
Still, Taliyra’s gaze didn’t tarry from his. She held his gaze, almost challenging him to continue and not shy away from explaining himself. It made his heart pound in a way the fight from earlier hadn’t even accomplished. “Meanwhile, the rich kept digging their claws into every company, all the resources, and even the government, of the time. Time and time again, I saw the system fail to hold the corrupt accountable because they, or one of their patrons, were wealthy and pulled the strings of the system.”
The longer Khravel spoke, the further he lowered his face toward hers. It was hardly a conscious action and the movement was so slow, he hadn’t even been aware until her nose almost nudged against him. His voice dipped low and soft as he concluded, “I stepped up where the system failed.”
To Taliyra, everything Khravel said sounded like an ancient myth. A folk hero coming to the aid of his people where the powerful failed. It was poetic and probably wonderful for garnering votes. Had Khravel still been the skull-faced version she’d seen up until recently, she wouldn’t have believed it. But this skull-faced version somehow emitted danger naturally.
The way he slowly moved closer into her, edged into her personal space, had not gone unnoticed. His body heat pressed in against her, tainted with the scent of blood and sweat. His hands had re-positioned themselves as he spoke. His upper set bracketed her hips, his palms braced into the bed, while his lower set still clutched the edges.
Forcing her mind away from a preferred distraction, Taliyra slowly traced her attention over his face, trying to suss out any hint of farce. “And you were arrested for taking justice into your own hands?”
“I was caught once, after killing the prior Overseer and his…” Khravel sneered, tilting his head back and forth – his mouth nearly dipping to Taliyra – before finishing his sentence, “Advisors.”
“Overseer?” Her eyebrows jumped up, unfamiliar with that particular title.
“The position is non-existent now, but it was a singular leader for Tivik-4. Now it is just us elected delegates, running around with our heads cut off, trying to run a government.” There was more to it than just that. All of this happened nearly two decades ago and the first years without an Overseer, while reorganizing the government and reuniting the planet, had been utter chaos. There were younger Tivikonians who had only grown up knowing a Tivik that Khravel had a hand in crafting.
ProxyPanion would not have dug too far back into Tivik’s history, either. They were more focused on current-day events, unless it was something particularly egregious.
“Anyway, killing Overseer Bandor and his cabinet was the announcement of my campaign. And thus started my long career in politics,” Khravel finished, his voice dipping into self-deprecating sarcasm.
Without thinking, Taliyra’s hand fell to one of Khravel’s forearms, careful concern coloring her words. “Are you still part of the Enigma Syndicate?”
“I’m not the active leader, but I have sway,” he answered, his gaze falling to where she touched him. Tension along his shoulders and down his back eased at the light touch. As if his body had needed some physical indication that Taliyra was there and whole, not simply a crazed hallucination. “No government is perfect and crime will always be present. They keep tabs on what I cannot from my position in the government.”
That made sense, she supposed. Khravel was a higher-up in the government now and always seemingly busy, with finetuning proposals, challenging potentially problematic legislation, and coming up with solutions. Of course, part of her would mull over his past crimes at a later date. The events of the day were catching up to her and she couldn’t find herself caring about it overmuch now.
However, one question did tip out of her lips, “Why was ProxyPanion not made aware of this history of yours?”
That question snapped his gaze away from her hand and to her eyes, a bristle in his tone. “The whole of Tivik shouldn’t suffer because of my criminality.”
Taliyra hummed in reply, watching earnest fire flare through Khravel’s eyes and body language. His determination to help his people was so endearing, she found the corners of her lips tilting into a fond smile. That was a mistake, since his gaze flicked to her lips and heat razed up her back.
Clearing her throat, she tried to shake off the inappropriate thoughts trying to slice through her tiredness. “Old Tivik sounds like current-day Earth. Part of the reason I’m a ProxyPanion, really.”
Khravel’s eyes widened, a renewed fire burning in his red gaze. He hadn’t considered Earth being like Tivik of old and, all at once, new concerns hurtled through his thoughts. “What do you mean?”
A knock sounded just before Taliyra could answer. Whatever hold the moment had shattered as the door hissed open and Khravel pushed away from Taliyra, turning to leer at whoever had interrupted them.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” Ghensil stood in the doorway, flashing them an awkward smile and half-waving a hand in greeting. He wore a pair of patient trousers, made of the same fabric as Taliyra’s gown. His torso and parts of his arms were wrapped in bandages, bruises forming along his pale yellow skin.
Khravel wanted to growl out a ‘yes’ but Taliyra piped up first with a cheerful, “Oh, Ghensil, I was worried about you. How are you holding up?”
In truth, Taliyra fell to personable auto-pilot. How quickly Khravel moved away from her had helped to shatter the moment, leaving her a little chilled and, somehow, annoyed. The way he had lingered near her, she could have almost believed he wanted to be near her. How foolish of her.
“As well as can be expected.” The yellow Tivikonian beamed at her as he edged closer, though Khravel remained rooted to his spot near the bed. Ghensil looked toward him, a hesitant smile creeping over his face. “Thank you. You were very impressive back there.”
Khravel grunted in response, crossing his arms over his chest while separate streams of thought battled in his head. Part of him blamed Ghensil for getting Taliyra wrapped up in such a dangerous situation even as another pat of him knew that wasn’t fair. Or at least suspected it wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t know until the investigation garnered more answers.
Accepting Khravel’s grunt as answer enough, Ghensil turned to Taliyra. “You’re well, I hope? You were out for quite awhile and I remember hearing them say something about trying to sway you to their cause during the…”
He trailed off, his mouth working around various words but landing on none.
“During your torture?” Taliyra suggested, raising an eyebrow.
Ghensil gave an awkward laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yes, that. Sorry, it’s… strange to think that I was tortured.”
“Don’t apologize for it, it’s a lot to process,” Taliyra said, smiling softly at the other Tivikonian, even as she felt fit to fall over. “I fared far better than you, so nothing to–“
The hiss of the door interrupted Taliyra. She sat straighter on the bed, half-expecting the doctor to have returned to finish the examination. However, she realized Dr. Ankrois hadn’t entered.
Khravel had left.
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Taliyra had settled into her couch, expecting another uneventful night. It had been a week and a half since the kidnapping and rescue. Khravel hadn’t visited her in all that time, which was fine. She hadn’t felt very frisky and simply wanted to exist quietly for a while. There had been communique from news outlets, of course, but she had refused all requests for interviews. She didn’t want to give the anti-Companion organization any platform.
Research had eaten away most of Taliyra’s hours. She sat on her tablet, scrolling through archives and reaching out to past reporters. Sometimes she ran into roadblocks, other times she had stumbled into clearance errors which eventually resolved itself. She wasn’t sure if Khravel knew where she was sticking her nose and, if he did, she wasn’t sure if she wanted his approval or frustration.
She should be learning this from him. Doing the research herself felt like a cop-out and an invasion of privacy, but considering his absence and her growing curiosity, she didn’t really care anymore.
Hours and hours, she ingested information reading articles and reports, watching news segments and surveillance recordings. The Enigma Syndicate and Old Tivik, as Taliyra had taken to calling it, had taken over a whole segment of her brain.
As she thought, Old Tivik was very much like her home. Corporations garnering control, resources dwindling for the poor and increasing for the rich. CEOs getting into metaphorical – and perhaps physical – beds with politicians. Corporate bailouts, slashed social programs, increasing health issues and social unrest.
It had gone on for ages and the effects were still being felt, though the ripples had severely lessened in recent years. Tivik-4’s current population problems seemingly stemmed from the actions or inactions of the past government, as well. Lack of regulations led to tainted products. Money-hungry war mongers destroyed swaths of Tivik and the people, which destroyed the environment, made a handful of animals go extinct, and stars knew what else. Illnesses were not handled adequately – leading to multiple pandemics – and the aftereffects ruined public health for years.
While the poor were left to fend for themselves, the rich could afford better products, avoid war, and had access to the best health innovations.
Then Khravel showed up. Many of his initial appearances were detailed as Skull-Face, but somewhere along the line, he eventually picked up the name Scorn.
And my, how young he appeared in those photos. Still the biggest Tivikonian around, but less filled-out, trim with adolescence and young adulthood. He also seemed angrier. Glaring every time a photo was taken, a scowl carved over the lower half of his face.
The name ‘Khravel Iedro’ only became known when he killed Bandor and the others. Although, there were rumors even that wasn’t his actual name, either. Evidence of hacking, dodgy recordkeeping, and the on-off destruction off said records made it hard to completely confirm.
Taliyra didn’t like that prospect in in the slightest. Something about Khravel not Khravel bothered her, despite the fact the idea of him going by Scorn didn't bother her in the slightest.
Well, that's what she told herself, at any rate. True, she hadn't gathered up the courage to watch The Footage just yet. The Footage being the recording from various security cameras of how Khravel massacred a whole room of then-officials. She absolved herself by saying she wanted to understand the full tilt of the political climate of Tivik-4. The conflicts, the main issues, the duration of the reigning regime of the time, the build-up.
There were a few times she felt prepared, but on those nights she found herself with an unexpected guest. Not Khravel, however.
Ghensil had called on her a couple times in the last few days, mostly healed from his physical injuries. The wounds on his psyche, however, were still gaping and tender. Luckily, he had a therapist already working with him – as most Delegates did – so he already had support on the mental health front.
Not that Taliyra disliked his presence. At least someone came to visit her while she was on the mend. Thoughts of Ghensil warmed her chest, a fond smile curling at her lips as she recalled the latest visit. He seemed to have something on his mind, fidgeting and stammering while they watched a show together. Eventually, he calmed down and the two simply curled up on the couch, side-by-side, before falling asleep.
She was jolted from her reverie as a chime cut through the air, taking her a moment to realize it was the room's doorbell equivalent. It rang once more before whoever was on the other side entered. Taliyra had made the mistake of not locking it, perhaps half-expecting Ghensil to make an appearance.
Instead, her breath froze in her lungs as Khravel strode through the door. Though he was the white-red Tivikonian she had first met, dressed impeccably in a dark bodysuit and jacket, and not the skull-faced Scorn, she still felt a squeeze at her chest as her heart tripped up.
Khravel paused inside to remove his boots. “Expecting Delegate Yigo?”
He said it so casually with just a hint of disapproval, it made a rankled frown instantly slip over her lips.
Taliyra straightened on the couch, turning further to stare at him. Uncertainty pinged through her thoughts as she realized he was removing his shoes by her front door. Khravel had never removed his shoes before. What did that mean? Did it have to mean something? Her thoughts were a frazzled mess, despite how she cooly replied, “Not really, though he's come around a couple times recently.”
“He wastes no time,” Khravel snorted, derision peppering his words. He couldn’t blame Yigo for attaching to Taliyra, part of him knew this. She was a lovely person, sharp and direct. With Yigo, she was even sweet, something she was decidedly not in Khravel’s presence. He had given up wondering why. It was probably a defense mechanism on her part, since he was far more dangerous than his colleague. Even without knowing the full brunt of his history, Taliyra must have sensed it.
Narrowing her eyes, she wondered what he had against Ghensil this time. “What’s that mean?”
With his boots off, Khravel took one step into Taliyra’s apartment before folding his arms behind his back. “Earlier this week, we had a personal meeting. He requested we share you.”
“What?” She couldn’t find any further words as she blinked up at him. Realization drilled into her head a few seconds before Khravel answered.
“Considering that wasn’t in my purview, I told him only you could make that decision,” he said simply, holding the tangle of feelings in his chest at arm’s length.
“How honorable of you,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. Of course, Khravel was open to Ghensil doing the ‘dirty’ work he didn’t want to stomach. If it ended in a new Tivikonian life, it didn’t really matter who was the father. Of course, they should run it by ProxyPanion, but fulfilling the contract was their favored choice. They also didn’t care who were the progenitors.
“Hardly,” he shot back, holding Taliyra’s gaze as it snapped to his face. Tilting his head, he leered down at her, eyes razing along what parts of her weren’t blocked by the couch. “I’m here to give you what you’ve been hounding me for.”
Realization struck instantly and, like a cat scrambling to get out of water, heat slashed over Taliyra’s cheeks and crawled up her body. She sat straighter, recognizing the heat suffusing Khravel’s gaze. A jumble of feelings clattered through her, remembering he might not be who she knew. Who she thought she knew, she amended to herself.
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Part 15 and 16 are available on Patreon now! Along with some other lovely little treats.
