by Ruby Dixon
I cannot have my mate doing all this work, so I pitch in and help, and she tosses me a grateful look.
By the end of the day, I understand why my Har-loh is so tired. I understand now why she did not wish for me to run off into the mountains with the easy task of hunting. Preparing the meat and the fur is time-consuming, and messy, and exhausting. We work until the suns fall beyond the edge of the sky again and it grows dark. At the end of it, the skins are rolled up and bundled, and Har-loh makes motions that she will scrape them tomorrow. I think of all the skins waiting inside the cave, too. Of all the meat. Of the strips of reeds she dries so she can make something with them. Of the organs she carefully saves and gestures that she will make something with them.
It is very different from when I have hunted on my own. If I was hungry, I would kill something and eat it until there was no more meat. If I did not finish all of it, I would shove it into a snow bank and gnaw on the frozen meat the next day. I did not think about the future. But with Har-loh, we must think of many turns of the moon from now.
We must think of when our kit arrives. We must have everything ready.
HARLOW
Rukh stays after dark, and I'm so incredibly glad that he does.
I think his leaving before without saying a word was a misunderstanding. I don't think he hates me. I don't think he's tired of me. I think he's unused to having to discuss his actions with anyone else, so he didn't think anything of up and leaving. To him, it was no big deal. He doesn't realize how it looked to me. It just boils down to communication. We need to learn to talk to each other, and that starts with language. No matter how difficult it is, I've got to get more words into him and I need to learn how he thinks. We can figure this out.
Once the meat is cooked enough that it won't rot, we hang it in the cave to dry. There's an endless list of things to get done, and when the meat is all done, I work on getting the brains out of the skulls to use for the skins tomorrow. By the time I'm done, I'm so weary I want to fall over, and I barely have the strength to wash my hands before I collapse into the furs, exhausted. Rukh joins me and I curl up next to him and sleep like the dead.
When I wake up, the inside of the cave is cold and empty. I'm terrified that he's left again. "Rukh?"
"Har-loh," he calls back from outside.
Relief crashes over me and I fight back the sob that rises in my throat. I compose myself, shove my feet into my boots, and trot out to meet him. To my relief, my mate's there by the makeshift fire. He's got it going again, burning the rest of the massive log that didn't completely catch last night. I see he's spread a few more strips to dry, and there's a pouch for breakfast tea hanging over the fire.
On the sand, Rukh has one of the skins unrolled and he's busy scraping the underside.
He's here. He's here and he's helping me. He's not going anywhere. I'm so relieved I sink to my knees and choke up again.
"Har-loh?" Rukh gets up from his spot by the skin and moves to my side. I watch through my tears as he studies his gross, blood-covered hands, as if he wants to hug me but can't. He drops to a squat next to me instead, tilting his head so he can see my face. "Yes?"
It's the wrong word, but I know what he's asking. I manage a smile and wipe my eyes. "I'm fine. Just emotional. Probably the pregnancy." Or that there's just been a lot going on for the last while, but I can't really tell him that now. "Thank you for staying."
He watches me, then moves in and kisses the top of my head. "Tea?"
"Oh." I get all sentimental and blubbery again, but I hide it better this time. He knows the word for tea. "Tea would be great, thank you." With just that small gesture, everything seems right in the world again.
Having Rukh's help makes everything not seem quite so daunting. Before I know it, all the meat is smoked, all the furs are scraped and the brains rubbed into the underside of the skin. It's not the best job I've ever done on skins. I know there are more steps to be taken to ensure the skin is the softest it can be—lots of stretching and drying, stretching and drying. But our priority is quantity rather than quality—quality can come later.
When I finish with my last hide and look around, I don't see anything urgent that has to be done. For the first time in days, there's nothing so pressing that it can't wait until tomorrow.
I want to collapse with relief. Instead, I just wipe my sweaty brow and give a hearty sigh. "I think we're done for now, baby."
Rukh frowns at me and wipes at my brow with his thumbs. Oh. I must have smeared something. I glance down at my hands…and grimace. I am utterly disgusting. My fingernails are ringed with dirt, my skin is covered with dried bits of unnamable things, and I'm sweaty and nasty. I glance over at Rukh and it's the same for him. He's dirty, too, and his long hair is sticking to his skin.
Now that the worst of the work is done, there's nothing I want more than a hot bath. "Let's wash up, shall we?" I make a scrubbing motion at my mate, indicating cleaning. "Wash."
He nods. "Wash."
As we've worked side by side today, I've gone over basic words with him. Hide. Meat. Scrape. Rock. Wave. Sea. Anything I could point at or easily do, I gave words to, and Rukh repeated them. I'm not sure if he'll be able to recall everything that we went over, but I'm hoping that day by day, we'll fall into an easier understanding of one another.
I poke the fire, stoking it, while Rukh fills up both of our pouches with water to warm over the flames. There's a few smaller rocks that I keep warming near the fire that I slip into the heated water to warm things faster as Rukh disappears into the cave again. To my delight, he returns with my soap-berries. "Wash," he says again, and gestures at the small, dried fruits. "Repeat?"
He's asking for the word for them. "Soap-berry," I say, and add a few to the water. They've withered because I've had them for so long, but I'm hoping that heating them in the water will squeeze a bit of the cleansing juice out. If nothing else, we'll smell nice and fruity.
As the water warms, Rukh moves toward me. I smile at him, tired. I'm half-expecting another word question, but instead, he tugs at the laces on my tunic. "Wash," he murmurs. "Wash Har-loh."
"I am pretty dirty." I smile up at him, standing still so he can pull at the ties. "Days and days of dirt. It'll feel good to get clean."
He narrows his eyes at me and I can tell he's trying to follow along with my words.
I put my hand on a smear on his rock-hard abdomen and brush at it. "Dirty," I tell him. I rub at another stripe of dirt on his arm. "Dirty."
Rukh grunts. He peels open the front of my tunic, revealing my breasts. My nipples prick at the cold, and his gaze goes there. A hungry ache starts low in my belly, and I wonder if this is going to turn sexy. But Rukh just pulls the tunic off of me and then eyes my lower arms and the grime there. "Dirty."
Yeah, I am pretty gross. I suppose it's a good thing that we're not getting sexy…though to be honest, I'm less and less concerned with how I look around Rukh. I know he likes me no matter what. My hair could be a disgusting mop and he'd still think I was beautiful. It's a rather freeing feeling. I rub my fingers over his chest, because I'm tired and sore and filthy but I'm also getting turned on. It's been days and days since I've had sex with my mate and I miss it. I miss him.
Plus, the way he says “dirty” in that caressing way is pretty damn hot.
He's completely naked—like usual—and I want to run my hands all over him. I want to take his cock and rub those ridges until he's so hard that he's leaking, and then he'll lose control and fling me down onto the sand and we'll have hot, filthy sex.
Except the sand is pretty nasty, and my skin is, too. I sigh at the thought, because I'm sticky and a bit itchy. "Dirty dirty Harlow."
Rukh chuckles. He leans over and puts a soft leather rag into the water, swishing it like I do when I'm bathing. Then he pulls it out and presses it to my skin, a look of intense concentration on his face as he washes me. A girl could get used to this. I sigh happily, holding my hair up off my neck as he mops me with the luk
ewarm water. I try not to look at the trickles of water creeping down my skin, because I'm sure they're discolored and gross and I just want to focus on getting warm. "You wash me first and then I'll wash you," I tell my mate as he bathes my arm. "Sound good?"
"Rukh wash Har-loh," he says in a low voice, sliding that bit of damp leather over my skin. "Good, good."
He's definitely a fast learner. My nipples are tight and hard with need, and when Rukh turns to washing my front, I don't complain. It's not dirty—my tunic protected me from the worst of the grossness—but I desperately need his touch over my sensitive breasts. He grazes one tip and I suck in a breath, hot arousal flooding through me.
But all Rukh says is "dirty" and keeps washing me.
When I'm clean, I feel better. Much better. I'll wash my hair tomorrow, maybe, but for now it's enough to just be clean and sweet-smelling. I sigh happily as he tugs my filthy leggings off and then gets to work on the rest of me as I wash my hands and scrub at my nails. By the time he's happy with how clean I am, I'm shivering and wearing nothing but my boots, body chilled as the breeze dries my skin. It's Rukh's turn now, though. I take the small rag from him and soak it, then gesture that he should turn around. "Now I'll do you."
He doesn't even hesitate. Rukh presents me with his back, his tail flicking back and forth languidly, and when I touch him with the warm cloth, he makes a sound of pleasure in his throat. My body responds, my pussy growing wet as I wipe down his strong limbs. God, he's pretty. I'm so lucky to have him. Even our “issues” aren't big ones. We can't communicate all that well, we had to leave everyone behind and strike out on our own, but they seem like small things in the wake of having this big, gorgeous man at my side. I can forgive everything in this moment, which means I am super, super hard up for some sex.
The thought's an amusing one and I make sure to scrub at Rukh's skin as quickly as I can. The moment he's clean of gore and grime, I'm absolutely going to jump his bones. Part of me wants to turn this into a sexy sponge bath, but there's too much blue skin that needs to be cleaned and it's too chilly to loiter.
Unsexy sponge bath first, I decide, and then into the cave. Then we can be as sexy as we like.
I'm having a hard time sticking to my own plan, though. Rukh was naked as he helped me, which means he's dirty everywhere. It's hard to tell myself to wait and be patient when I have to towel off his perfect, hard buns. Or when I run the washcloth down each strong leg. As I make my way to his front, I notice he's not unaffected, either. His cock has stiffened and is standing proud and erect as I wash up his thighs.
Well, I just have to make sure he's clean there, too, don't I? It's my duty as a loving mate.
So I wet the rag again and take great care washing his sac and every ridge of that big, thick cock. I wash his spur, and then give a little sigh of disappointment when I work my way up to his chest. I'd rather stay between his thighs, but that won't get the rest of him clean. By the time I straighten to do his shoulders, he's watching me with a glittering, intense stare that takes my breath away.
"I think I'm done," I manage, tossing the rag into the last of the water in the pouch. "All good. Now—"
He shakes his head, trapping my arm before I can leave. "Har-loh dirty."
"Still?" I glance down at my body, holding my boobs to look at everything underneath. I'm not as sparkling clean as I would be in a hot shower, but I thought we'd done pretty good. I feel refreshed and good. I feel more than ready to have my mate touch me, which I couldn't say an hour ago. "Where?"
Rukh makes a noise in his throat and then leans over the fire pit, pulling out the towel again. He gives me a scorching look. "Rukh wash."
And then he drops to his knees in front of me.
I…oh. My breath comes faster, and I think about how much I enjoyed cleaning his cock, even though I didn't have to. Perhaps I spent a bit too much loving time on it and he got ideas in his head. Or maybe he just misses my touch as much as I miss his. Whatever it is, I'm not about to complain. "Rukh," I breathe, brushing strands of hair back from his face. "Where are you going to wash me, baby?"
He gives me a sly look that takes my breath away and then presses the warm rag right between my thighs.
I squirm at the feel of it against my folds. It feels good, warm and wet, but it's not what I want there. "Are you telling me I'm a dirty girl?"
"Clean Har-loh," he says softly, rubbing the cloth back and forth. The friction just gets me wetter, and I can't stay still. Not when he's that close to my pussy and when he's talking in that low, hungry voice. He's going to make me absolutely crazy with need. Rukh considers for a moment, then tosses aside the rag. He wraps an arm around my hips and pulls me close, until his face brushes against my stomach.
Then he growls and lifts one of my legs over his arm, spreading my thighs.
I squeak in surprise, reaching forward and grabbing his horns for balance. He doesn't stop, though, just hauls me forward until my leg is over one shoulder and my pussy’s practically in his face. "Rukh," I whimper. My pulse feels as if it's beating between my thighs, heat coursing through my body…and yet he's still not touching me. It's all still a big tease. "Am I clean enough for you? Or do you need a closer inspection?"
He looks at my pussy thoughtfully and then reaches up a finger to trace over my folds. "Kiss Har-loh," he murmurs, glancing up at me. "Yes?"
He wants to kiss my pussy? Put his mouth there? Uh, as if I even have to think twice. "Yes," I encourage. "Yes, yes. All the kisses."
My mate makes a hungry sound low in his throat. Clenching my hips, he pushes his face between my thighs and licks my folds. I moan, holding tight to his horns as he groans with pleasure and moves in for another taste. He's still so tall when he's seated like this that I have to stand on tiptoe to angle his mouth just right. When he shifts his weight, I threaten to topple into the fire. "Rukh," I pant. "Wait, wait."
Rukh looks up at me, his eyes dark blue with arousal, his mouth wet with my juices. Even as I gaze down at him, he licks his lips.
"Let's go into the cave." I point at our home a short distance away and mime a shiver. "Cold out here. There's nowhere to lie down."
He gazes at our surroundings, blinking, and it's as if it takes him a moment to realize where we're at. I believe it. If he threw me down into the sand to fuck me, I doubt I'd care once he puts his mouth on me again. But he pulls me close for a quick kiss to the tuft between my thighs, then sets my leg down. He gets to his feet, and that's the only warning I get before he grabs me and hauls me over his shoulder.
Then, ass in the air, he carries me back to our cave.
I laugh. "So impatient you won't even let me walk, huh? I see how it is."
"Rukh kiss," he tells me, patting my ass and then caressing it. Funny how he doesn't have a big vocabulary, but with those two words, he's able to make me wetter than heck. I squirm with anticipation on his hard shoulder, and he rubs my butt cheek again. He must like having me under his hand, because he rumbles with pleasure, his khui purring loudly, and then delves his fingers into my cleft.
Oh god. The unexpected touch makes me squeal in surprise, and when his rough finger pads brush over the entrance to my core, I moan. I probably sound ridiculous, making all these noises, but there's no one here to hear us.
"Mmm, Rukh kiss," he says again, his fingers dipping deeper into my wet heat.
"Does that mean you're going to kiss me there?" I ask, panting. "Because if so, I am down with that."
He carries me into the cave, the world bobbing around me, and I hold onto him as best I can. It's difficult to concentrate, especially when he's got his fingers deep inside me. It's the most erotic, confusing feeling, but I kind of love it.
He pauses, and then his fingers leave my body, and I could just cry with how much I need them back. I whimper a protest, and he sets me upright, his gaze locked on me. As I stare up at my mate, Rukh puts his wet fingers to his mouth and licks them.
"Oh," I breathe. Heat flutters through my belly. My khui
is purring back at his. After our initial resonance, it hums gently when I'm extremely turned on or when I feel strongly. It's humming right now, pleasure pulsing through me. Is there anything more erotic than watching my mate lick my taste off his fingers?
Rukh bends down and kisses me. Slowly. Gently. I close my eyes, entranced by the sheer delicacy of the kiss. Of his touch. Considering that just a short time ago this was a wild man who'd been on his own for almost all of his life, he's incredibly careful with me. I never feel uneasy or threatened. I always feel safe and cherished and so damn loved in his arms. His tongue flicks against mine, and I reach for him, wanting to wrap my arms around his neck and lose myself in his mouth for a while. But my mate grabs my hands in his and won't let me twine myself about him. Instead, he drops to his knees on our sleeping furs—cold with disuse—and pulls me down with him.
Well, I don't need much convincing. The moment I sit down, he gently pushes me onto my back and slides between my thighs. It's obvious that he wants to continue the “kissing” he started outside by the fire. I brush his thick, messy hair back from his face, so full of love (and lust) for this man. "And here I thought you were tired of me," I whisper. "I can be a real idiot sometimes, can't I?"
He presses his mouth to the inside of my thigh, rubbing his lips against my skin. "Rukh kiss Har-loh."
"Please do." I spread my legs for him, encouraging him with my actions. "Kiss me all you want. Har-loh loves your kisses. And your mouth." I slide my fingers over his lips. "Mouth. This is your mouth."