by Ruby Dixon
I am fascinated by that little shake. They jiggle back and forth, and I cannot stop staring. “I…yes. I do like them.” I glance up at her, noticing her skin prickling with bumps. “Are you cold?”
“Un peu. A little.” Her eyes flare and she smiles at me. “Are you offering to keep me warm?”
I am warm. Of course. This makes sense. My khui singing so loud that it deafens me, I look around, then carefully ease Mar-lenn toward the cliff walls, where the wind is less likely to hit her. “Wait here. I will build a fire.” Finding fuel should not be too difficult, and I carry the means of making a fire with me—
She grabs a handful of my mane, stopping me before I can get up. “Mon beau,” she says softly. “I meant for you to warm me with your body.”
“I see.” I feel a little foolish for thinking of fire. Of course she means for me to warm her with my body. Mar-lenn holds her hands out, her playful smile on her face, and I pull her against me, wrapping my arms around her to share in my warmth.
I…am not prepared for what her body feels like against mine. Her teats with their tight little tips rub against my chest, and everywhere she is soft, soft, soft. And bare. I groan, nearly spurting my release as I realize she has no protective plating on her skin. She is just soft everywhere. “Mar-lenn…”
“I am here,” she whispers, brushing my mane back from my face. “You are doing beautifully, mon brave.” Her hands move across my jaw, caressing my face and then across my shoulder. “Are you well? You shudder.”
Of course I shudder. She feels so good that I want to spill already. “I…fine.”
My human mate makes a scoffing sound and then reaches down between us. “Do you need to come quickly so we can take time? I will help you with that, mon beau. Let me take care of you.”
And then her hand is on my cock, caressing me through the too-thin leather of my loincloth. Shock echoes through my mind, and then hard, blistering need chases all my thoughts away. With a choked growl, I thrust into her small, soft hand. Once, twice, I pump against her touch, listening to her murmur sounds of encouragement as she leans in and licks my neck.
When her tongue touches my skin? It is too much. A low snarl erupts from my chest even as my cock unleashes a torrent of seed into my loincloth. I come.
And come.
And come so hard, even as she continues to stroke me with her hand. Stars flicker in front of my eyes and the blood rushes through my ears, deafening me to all but the sound of my khui. Every muscle in my body clenches with the force of my release, and hot seed floods past my loincloth and onto my thighs.
When I can breathe again, I press my brow to her smooth one as she nuzzles my nose. I am…embarrassed that my first time with my mate was not inside her. But she only licks the tip of my nose. “That was beautiful,” Mar-lenn says, her voice soft with emotion, and absurdly enough, I am happy that I pleased her.
“I…came too quickly.”
“Oui, that was the plan.” She puts a hand on my chest and nudges me, indicating I should go backward into the snow. “Now we can go slow and take our time.”
I like that thought. More than that, I like the sweet smile she is giving me, as if my pleasure was her pleasure, too. As if I have not disappointed her in the slightest. It makes me feel good. She does not mind that this is new to me. She will teach me how to pleasure her…and I will learn so well that I will make her come twice as hard as I just did.
I give her a hesitant smile, aware of the seed cooling on my groin. “I should…clean myself first.”
“Do not take long, then,” she tells me, and rips a scrap of her tunic off and offers it to me.
I take it and somehow get to my feet. My knees are strangely weak and it is hard —so hard—to walk a few feet away from her. But I do so, grabbing fresh snow and scrubbing at my groin until it stings with the chill. The cold is good, because it means I will last that much longer next time. I hate that my brother Pashov and my tribesmate Dagesh have gotten to the nearest hunter caves before I did. Mar-lenn should have a fire to keep her warm, and fresh water to drink, trail rations to eat. Instead, there is only snow and my body to keep her comfortable. She deserves better.
I will just have to work doubly hard to pleasure her to make up for the lack of comforts. With that thought in mind, I return to her, full of determination.
My khui breaks into a strong, insistent song as I return to her side. Even that small parting makes me realize how much I want her, and I pull her close and nuzzle her neck, breathing in her lovely scent. Her arms go around my neck and she caresses me, her fingers trailing over my shoulder. “Welcome back,” she teases. She adores teasing, my female.
I adore that, too.
“I think you should kiss me,” she says, wrapping her fingers in my hair as if holding me to her.
Kiss her? I do not know what she means…and then I recall what Vektal told us about the humans and how they like to press mouth to mouth. She put her mouth on mine earlier, in front of the others. She wants me to do so again? It seems an odd caress to me, but if it makes her happy, I do not wish to refuse. I quickly push my mouth against hers. “Like that?”
“For starters,” she says, and slides her hand down the front of my chest again. I immediately think of how she fondled my cock and it jumps to life once more, growing achingly hard in an instant. But she only caresses my chest, running her fingers along the lines of my muscles and tracing the ridges of protective plating even as she leans in again. I push my mouth against hers once more, but this time when I pull back, she leans closer and nuzzles her lips gently against mine. The slide of them is…interesting. Her mouth is so soft and fascinating that I remain still, letting her take over. She brushes her lips over mine over and over again, as if the simple act of them touching gives her pleasure. I find it increasingly pleasant as the kisses go on, and when she starts to nip at my mouth with little bites, I groan.
I can see why Vektal is happy about this kissing.
10
ZENNEK
I part my lips to make it easier for her to nip at me…and her tongue slides against the seam of my mouth. A groan erupts from me and my hands clench against her. Did she…was that supposed to happen? But she makes a happy little sound, and then Mar-lenn tongues me again.
I remain utterly frozen, my cock throbbing in response to the slide of that smooth, wet tongue into my mouth. It feels different than my own tongue, but in a good way, and I do not know what about it makes her speak so differently. Because it is so smooth and slippery? If so, I welcome this, because her tongue rubbing up against mine…it makes my body react with fiery need.
She chuckles against my mouth and then bites gently at my lower lip. “Are you all right?”
“I like your tongue,” I rasp out. “I do not care that it is strange.”
That makes her pause. She draws back, studying me. “Strange?”
“You said you speak unlike the others because your tongue is different.” I touch her face to comfort her. “This does not matter to me. I like you just as you are.”
Mar-lenn stares at me, and then giggles. “Oh, mon brave, you are incroyable. How charming you are.” She cups my face in her hands and locks her eyes with mine. “Does it bother you, then? To touch tongues with me?”
“No. I like it.”
“Then you should use yours on me as well, my Zennek.”
My cock jumps at the sound of my name on her lips. She wants me to kiss her back? To tongue her back? I can do that. I slip a hand behind her neck to hold her against me and gently brush my mouth over hers before teasing my tongue against the seam of her pink mouth. Her eyes close and she leans in to me, so beautiful that my heart aches with the sight of her. With a groan, I stroke my tongue into the hot well of her mouth, seeking out that smooth pink hoo-man tongue. I flick mine against hers, and when she rubs her tongue against mine, I feel it right down to my sac, and gasp in surprise.
Her arms go around my neck, and she continues to flick her tongue against
mine, insisting that the kiss go on. I am all too happy to continue, and hold her body against my chest as I lick and flick at her mouth, trying to tease her with my tongue and please her as much as she pleases me.
By the time we pull apart, she is breathing hard, her teats pushing against my chest. She clings to me, and there is a soft, dazed look in her eyes. “You’re very good at that.”
Am I? The realization that I am making Mar-lenn soft-eyed and hungry with need is a pleasing one. I want to do more. With a growl, I capture her mouth again, slicking my tongue into hers and stroking deep into her hot mouth. As I do, I realize…this is like mating her, just in a different part of her body.
I shudder hard, struggling to control my need as desire explodes through me at the thought. I am mating my Mar-lenn’s mouth with mine. And she accepts me eagerly each time, tasting at my tongue like I taste hers, caressing me, meeting me with hungry responses.
No male was ever so lucky.
My need for her grows overwhelming, and I push us forward, until she is on her back in the snow and I cover her with my larger body. She is small and fragile, so I prop my weight on my elbows to ensure I do not crush her with my bulk, and continue to claim her mouth with deeper, surer strokes.
Mar-lenn makes a little mewing sound and breaks the kiss, panting. She looks up at me with such need in her eyes that I bury my face against her neck, kissing her there and sucking on her skin with fervent desire.
Her hands go to my mane and she drags her fingers through it as I suck on her neck. “You are so different from me, but in good ways, mon beau. I like that tongue of yours. Ridges.” She sighs. “I never thought you would have ridges but now I want that tongue everywhere.”
Everywhere is exactly where I plan to taste her. I growl a low response, then lick at her collarbone, at her pale skin traced with blue veins. It reminds me of how very delicate she is, and when I see the bright red marks my attentions have left on her neck, I vow to be more careful. She is my mate, my everything—I must be mindful of how fragile she is. Gentler, I press more kisses along the front of her chest, where she has no protective plating at all. She wiggles underneath me, arching her back in encouragement as I go lower, and I brush my mouth between her prominent teats. Her hands grip at my mane tightly and then she steers me toward one pink peak. “Taste me here, my Zennek.”
Again, she says my name like a caress and I groan, grinding my hips against hers, unable to control myself.
She gives a throaty laugh and locks a leg around my hips, and I immediately latch on with my tail, holding her in place. I want her wrapped all around me. I want to bury myself so deep inside her—
But she pushes my head toward her teat again and so I give the pink tip a quick, efficient kiss.
I am not prepared for her response. Mar-lenn moans, arching up to shove her teat at my mouth again, and I can feel her tremble. Is this place more sensitive than others, then? Encouraged, I brush my lips over the peak, exploring the texture of it with my lips. Her skin is slightly different here, pebbled and textured, with a prominent nipple. I feel the urge to nip on it and suck as a kit would—except I do not feel much like a kit right now. I feel like the most powerful hunter in the world with my female writhing underneath me. Mar-lenn likes my touch, though, and I know she would tell me if I did something wrong.
I hesitate for a moment, then give her nipple a hard, thorough lick, the ridges on my tongue rasping against it.
The breath explodes from her in a near-sob. “Zennek. Oui, just like that, mon beau.”
I growl again, because her response is staggering. Licking her teat makes her that needy? No wonder she has steered me here. I lap at the peak again, enjoying how hard it is against my tongue, and then I suck on it, flicking my tongue against the tip as I do.
Mar-lenn’s cry of response and the arch of her hips against my cock tell me this is good—very good—and I redouble my efforts. All of my attention is now focused on the teat under my lips, and I kiss and caress, lick and nibble and gently bite, all to wring more gasping, wild pleasure out of my mate. I want to hear her cry my name out again in that shocked, intense way. She claws at my scalp, then at my back as I continue to tease her nipple, and then when I cannot stand it any longer, I move to the other teat and attack it with attention.
Her hips rock against me, over and over, and her little moans and cries eat away at my resolve. I grind my cock against the apex of her hips, dragging my hard length between her thighs. My loincloth is gone, but she replaced her leggings after exposing her cunt to me earlier, and I grow tired of grinding against the leather.
I want to feel that patch of fur against my skin. I want to feel all of her.
I reach between us and she makes an erotic sound in her throat. “Mar-lenn,” I murmur, grasping at the seat of the leggings. My fingers brush against the curls of her cunt, and I want to expose them. I tug at the leggings, and when they do not move quickly enough for my liking, I give the leathers a hard, fierce rip. Seams burst and then I shove the remnants aside, pushing my length against the warm fur of her cunt.
“Oooh, Zennek,” Mar-lenn says, her voice throaty. “Let me look at how big you are.”
But the way she says my name…it is too perfect. I groan and thrust against her cunt, unable to help myself. My need is too hard, too intense. I cannot control myself. More than that, I don’t want to. Mar-lenn said she wants all of me, and so I will give it to her. I thrust against the cradle of her thighs again, rubbing my length along her heat…and her slickness coats my cock.
I groan hard, my control shattering. I press my brow to hers and thrust again. Her arms go around me, her other leg moving to lock around my hips, and then I thrust and thrust as she murmurs words of encouragement, her hands moving over my arms and caressing me everywhere. I am lost in a haze of pleasure, the only things in my world the warmth of Mar-lenn’s soft body against mine, the wetness of her cunt as I grind my length against it, and the insistent song of our khuis.
I come again, too fast. Of course it is too fast. I need to come inside her, not thrusting wildly against the textured fur of her cunt, but I shudder over her, holding her tight as I paint her cunt with my seed, spilling over her thighs and hips.
She has had no pleasure yet, and I have taken mine twice. When I can breathe again, I groan and drop my forehead to hers once more. “I am a poor mate for you.”
“Why?” Mar-lenn touches my face, the look in her eyes soft and beautiful. “Do you think I do not enjoy seeing you come so hard? For me, your touch is exciting, just as exciting as watching you lose control. I like all of your pleasure, Zennek, and there are many hours before dawn. We have time to touch more, do we not?” Her smile is sweet.
I sit up and gather a handful of snow in my grip, holding it until it melts and warms, and then gently bathing some of my seed away from her thighs. Even the sight of that arouses me, my khui humming a constant reminder that we have not yet fulfilled resonance. “I wanted to make this perfect for you,” I admit.
“And you will. So far I have no complaints,” Mar-lenn says, taking another scrap from her demolished leathers and cleaning my seed off of her. As she sits up, her legs spread and I can see a peek of pink folds underneath the fur on her cunt, more enticing slickness, and a curious little nub enfolded at the top of her cunt.
The third nipple, I remember Vektal told us. The females like to be touched there.
“May I look at you?” Mar-lenn asks, distracting me as she closes her legs. “You are different than a human man and I want to see what is mine.”
I am hers? I like that she says such things. I remain still as she gets on her knees, brushing the last scraps of her leathers off of her body. I have ruined all her clothing and I feel remorse.
I open my mouth to ask if she is cold, but then she takes one of the scraps and runs it over my half-erect cock, and hunger blisters through my mind again. It stirs to life even as she wipes my seed away, and traces a finger down my growing length. “More ridges h
ere, mon homme? No wonder Georgie is all smiles when it comes to Vektal.” She follows the line of a vein with a light touch, and impossibly, my sac fills tight with seed again. “But I must ask what this is.”
And she touches my spur.
I pause. “It is…a spur? It is like your third nipple, I suppose.”
Her brows draw together. “My what?”
My brow flushes. “Your…between your thighs.”
Realization dawns on her face. “My clit?” She spreads her legs in the snow, wearing nothing but boots as she sits atop the remnants of her leathers and parts her folds brazenly. “This?” She circles a fingertip around the small nub, and I am fascinated by the wet gleam of her flesh.
I swallow hard, unable to tear my gaze away. “Yes. That.”
“It is called a clit, or clitoris. And it is a pleasure center.” She circles it again before lifting her wet finger to my lips. “Is yours thus?”
I shrug, because my spur is less sensitive than my cock, where I would rather be touched. But I will let her touch me anywhere if she wants. I capture her finger between my lips before she can pull it away and taste her.
And groan.
It is a saying among the hunters of my tribe that there is no taste quite like a resonance mate on your tongue. I always thought of it as mere bragging, those that have received the greatest of gifts merely rubbing our noses into it, or that they had been so struck by their mates that they no longer could speak of such things without bias. But with that small taste of Mar-lenn on my tongue, I know every word is true. There is nothing quite like her. It is musky and delicious, pleasing to all my senses, and that small taste sets my body aflame.
All I know is that I must have more.
“Mar-lenn,” I murmur, even as I turn to her and put my hands on her hips. I am fascinated by those wickedly spread thighs, the hint of gleaming flesh underneath the curls. Just a taste of her has made my body go wild…what will it be like if I bury my mouth in her sweetness?