by Ruby Dixon
Rukh returns, carrying an entire dvisti over his shoulders. He throws it down near the fire and then looks at me for approval.
I clap my hands, excited. “That is awesome! Thank you, Rukh!” Dvisti are furry and shaggy and will make a small but warm blanket.
He bares his teeth at me, imitating my grin. Then he moves to the creature to start carving it up.
I stop him, because if it’s anything like yesterday’s butcher-fest, there’s not going to be a skin left to treat. “No! Wait!”
“No?” Rukh frowns and looks up at me.
Through gesturing and a lot of demonstrating of my clothing, I get him to understand that I want the hide. I sit down next to him, and over the next hour, we figure out how to skin the creature. We’re both bloody and smelly by the time we eat, but I’m pleased because I have a big, mostly-whole skin to work on. I don’t know what I’m going to stretch it over yet, but I’ll figure something out.
Instead of tossing the extra meat, I spit it over the fire on a few of the longer bones and smoke it. Rukh watches me, and then offers his waterskin.
I smile at him and take a sip. I’m tired and I feel like the day’s just begun. There’s so much to do, I’m overwhelmed with it.
“Fire,” Rukh says, pointing at my fire. Then he points at me. “Har-loh.” Then he points at the skin.
“Water,” I tell him. I pour a little onto my hand and wash my fingertips. “Water.”
“Water,” he repeats.
It’s progress, and I smile broadly at him. We can do this. We just have to learn what the other wants.
• • •
A week later
I sniff my armpit and wince. “That is a not so fresh scent.”
“Repeat?” Rukh says from across the cave as he scrapes a fresh hide.
I wave him off. “Just talking to myself.” I’ve taught him the word ‘repeat’ so he can ask me to restate things, but I’m not going to go into explicit detail about how smelly I am. Not when he’s not exactly a fragrant blossom himself.
It’s been a long week. I make another chalk notch on the wall, just because I like counting the days. 7 sunrises and sunsets of back-breaking work. 7 days of skinning, smoking meat, weaving baskets, and whatever other chores I can possibly think of. Seven days of curing hides with their own brains, seven days of sweaty, bloody, gross work and not a single bathtub in sight. I enviously think of the big heated pool in the center of the tribal cave. I’ll never see that again, and right now, something like that sounds pretty damn nice.
Rukh doesn’t seem to mind my smell, but, well, he’s Rukh. I don’t know if he’s ever had a bath, so of course he doesn’t mind if I stink. The sad thing is? I’m getting used to his smell thanks to the close quarters. At night, he comes and lies down beside me and I happily cling to him, dirty skin and all, because he’s as warm as a furnace.
We also dry hump and pet each other to orgasm every night. I’m pretty sure it’s not normal – we haven’t even kissed – but Rukh seems pleased, and it seems to be keeping my cootie from totally flipping out on me. The urge to mate is harder to avoid every day, and now when Rukh goes hunting, I have to masturbate several times in quick succession just to ease the ache.
I am freaking exhausted.
With a sigh, I give the dvisti hide in front of me another hard scrape with a bone knife. My plan for blankets is coming along well. In another week or so, I’ll have a luxurious bed full of crudely-tanned furs, but it’ll be warm at least.
And then I will just sleep for days.
“Har-loh?” Rukh squats beside me and offers his waterskin.
I smile at him gratefully and take it. It’s not his fault I’m needy and require so much more crap than he does. “I’m just tired.”
“Tired?” he repeats, not understanding.
I mime a yawn and feign sleep. “Tired. And dirty. I want a bath.” I think for a minute, then glance up at him. It’s still early in the day and rather sunny out for Not-Hoth. “Is there a stream near here? Water? For washing?” I mime and say the words slowly until he grasps what I want.
Rukh nods and goes to get his snowshoes, then gets my pair. We’re going out.
He straps them to my feet, then his own. It’s kind of funny to think of a naked barbarian running around in nothing but shoes, but lately, the snows have been getting higher and higher. I worry that winter is going to suck hard, since everyone keeps telling me this is the milder season.
And if we’re stuck in a tiny cave together and a blizzard hits? It won’t matter how dirty or smelly we are – I’m going to end up tackling the man. I’ve learned that when I’m in the heat of the moment? The cootie doesn’t care about a bit of dirt.
Baths are definitely imperative. I admit, I’m a little curious to see what Rukh looks like without all the caked on grime.
We head out, and I bring a bag of smoked, dried meat, the waterskin, and a knife. The snowshoes take some getting used to – Rukh’s are nothing more than three large prongs that leave a chicken-like mark in the snow. Mine are made from a dozen ribs or so and leave little star patterns as I walk. They help, and it’s easier to walk when I’m not sinking two feet with every step.
Rukh leads me into the next valley. It’s clear he could walk faster, but he hovers around me to make sure that I’m all right. Through our stilted conversations, I’ve indicated to him that I’m not leaving, so I think he trusts me a bit more now. We’re no longer captor and captive but more…friends. At least, I like to hope so.
I smell the sulfurous scent of rotten eggs before I see the water itself. Not-Hoth is riddled with hot springs, which makes me think the core of the planet is pretty seismically active. Which would be scary…if I had a choice about living here. I don’t, so I just don’t think about it. The hot springs are nice, though.
Rukh leads me down toward it, and we pass by a bush covered with bright red berries. I recognize these and stop to pluck a handful. The barbarians use them as soap, and to drive away the inhabitants of local streams.
“No,” Rukh says when he sees me gathering the fruit. He touches his tongue and makes a face. “Har-loh, no.”
“They’re not for eating,” I tell him. “They’re for washing. You’ll see.” I put them in my bag and follow him.
We approach the stream, and I see long, bamboo-like reeds sticking out near the banks. Georgie and Liz both have warned me about the fish they call ‘face eaters’. They pretend to be plants and when you step close enough, piranha-time. As we get closer, Rukh puts a hand on my shoulder and squats, rubbing his chin as he stares at the stream. It’s obvious he knows it’s dangerous, and he’s not quite sure what to do. He wants to please me, but he also doesn’t want me to get eaten.
No wonder the man’s so dirty. I feel a twinge of pity for my poor barbarian.
“Watch,” I tell him. I grab a handful of snow and smash several berries into the snowball, then lob it upstream. It takes a few minutes, but then, one by one, the reeds move further and further downstream, until they’re out of sight. The face-eaters don’t like the fruit, and this little trick works like a charm every time.
Rukh grunts, impressed.
“Come on,” I tell him. “Let’s go clean up.”
He insists on checking the water before I get in anyhow, and I wait patiently on the shore, stripping my furs off. I’m anxious to get cleaned up. I wish I could clean my fur clothing, too, but I’m not exactly sure how one launders fur, and I don’t have anything to change into. They’ll just have to stay dirty for now.
When he gives the go-ahead, I tiptoe into the water. It’s like heaven. I sink in all the way and give a moan of pure pleasure. “This is the stuff.” I immediately grab my pouch from the shore and squeeze a few berries, scrubbing at my skin and hair.
Rukh watches me for a moment, and then steps into the water after me. He’s hesitant, and it’s clear he feels a bit out of his element. It’s also clear he doesn’t know what to do with all my naked skin, because he keep
s reaching out to touch me. The only time we normally get naked together is bedtime, because it’s easier to share heat, so I understand his confusion.
“Wash,” I tell him, and show him how to crush the berries and form a bit of lather. I reach out and rub some on his arm. “It’s good for you, I promise.”
He stares down at the dirty rivulets coursing over his skin. Then, he looks at me and rubs at my skin. It’s a little grimy, but nothing like his. Realization dawns and he begins to scrub at his skin. “Wash.”
“That’s right,” I say enthusiastically, and scrub with him. I move to his back and begin to scrub it, taking extra care to get into all the nooks and crannies of the plates along his spine and arms. He shudders when I rub his skin, and I know he’s getting aroused. My own cootie is going wild in my chest, vibrating at high speed. I can hear his doing the same.
I didn’t intend for this to turn sexy, but how can it not? We’re both naked, and I’m running my hands over every inch of him. As I rub at his backside, his tail flicks in the water. It feels strange to clean another person, especially one with a tail, but I want him to be clean. I bit down on him the other day in the heat of the moment, and I try not to think about what I might have inadvertently licked off his skin. “This bath is really for me, you know,” I tell him as I run my hands down one incredibly muscular arm. “It’s because sooner or later, I’m going to give in to this resonance, and I might as well get a clean guy out of things, right?”
“Repeat,” he says in a thick voice. He doesn’t understand what I’m saying.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, soothing. I smooth my soapy hands over his big shoulders. Goodness, he’s big. I mean, sure, the guy is seven feet tall if he’s an inch, and he’s not got an ounce of fat on him, but somehow looking and touching are two different things, and I can’t get over how big and how strong my alien is.
And then I realize I just thought of him as ‘my’ alien. Hoo boy. That’s a loaded line of thought. Still, I’m not hating on the idea. “I just need a bit of time to get used to everything that comes with the package,” I murmur to myself. Then, to him, I say, “I’m going to wash your hair.”
He stiffens when I put my hands on his head.
“Bend down,” I tell him, and pat the surface of the water. It’s at waist height, so it’s not dangerous.
He turns and looks at me, his eyes narrowed with mistrust.
“I promise, it’s fine.” I pat the water again and give him an encouraging smile. “You want to make me happy, don’t you?”
He growls, though I know he can’t understand my words. And then he sinks lower into the water, until his chin is touching the surface and the rest of him is submerged.
“Thank you,” I say, keeping my voice sweet. I dig my hands into the tangled mass and begin to lather it. I massage as I do, and his breath hisses between his teeth. I can’t tell if he likes it or not, but I’m determined to give my barbarian a makeover, so he’s just going to have to suck it up to please me. I work around his horns, rubbing as I go, and his hair’s so thick that it takes an extra handful of berries to get a good lather going.
I’m so focused on cleaning his hair that I don’t notice that my breasts are practically in his face until his hands touch my hips. “Har-loh,” he murmurs, and the husky sound makes my nipples tighten, and I immediately think of our late night furtive dry-humping.
Blushing, I flatten my hand on top of his head. “Dunk.”
He goes under the water a few times, and by the time his hair is no longer sudsy, I’ve recovered a bit. I smile brightly at him as he wipes water from his eyes. “You look so much better.”
It’s true, actually. His face is no longer smeared with the dirt of years, and his skin is this deliciously smoky blue. He looks younger, and with his thick, wild hair flattened around his face, I get an image of how he’ll look with it combed and cleaned up. A weird feeling of deja-vu hits me. Is it that Rukh’s scowling face reminds me of someone? Or am I just crazy?
I shake the thought off, a moment before a handful of mashed berries land on top of my head.
“Har-loh wash,” Rukh instructs, and begins to massage my own hair. All right, fair enough. I get low in the water and close my eyes so he can give me the same treatment.
His hands caress my scalp, rubbing gently, and then he traces my ears. I shiver as he works his fingers through my wet hair. I don’t think I’ve ever been treated so very gently as I am at this moment. He touches a sore spot on my head, and I remember the guy clubbed me a few days ago. Hm. I push his hands away.
He makes an unhappy sound and insists on touching the sore spot. Oh. He’s checking it. I purse my lips and remain silent so he can finish checking. After a moment, he’s satisfied, and then he pushes me under the water.
I emerge a moment later, coughing and spluttering. “You have to warn me when you do that!”
“Har-loh wash?”
“Oh, I’m definitely washed now,” I say in a peevish voice. I rub my eyes.
Rukh frowns and touches my arm, then tries to rub one of my freckles away. “Wash?”
“Those are part of my skin, big guy.” I scratch at one and then shake my head. “They don’t come off. See? And they’re all over me. They’re ‘freckles’ in my language.”
“Fruh-kuhl?” He touches one.
“Close enough.” I smile at him and point at several on my arm.
He taps a finger on top of a freckle on my arm, and then one on my shoulder. Then, he taps one on my collarbone and I suck in a breath. Do I want him to keep going?
I…kind of do.
So I remain utterly still while his fingers trace over my skin, exploring my freckles. I’m not one of those lucky girls that only gets a few cute freckles here and there. If there’s a bit of sun to touch my skin, I freckle madly. My cheeks are covered, as well as the bridge of my nose and my forehead. My arms and upper chest are, too, and they fade out to a few moles here and there on my breasts and belly.
It’s clear he’s not all that interested in the freckles on my face, though. His fingers drag slowly between my breasts, and my khui begins to thrum in response to the touch. My nipples perk, and I ache for him to touch them.
Rukh looks up at me, and his fingers brush over my skin, petting the same spot over and over again, and my entire body feels charged. He studies me, then asks, “No?”
Oh. He wants to know if he can touch me.
I show him. I take his hand in mine and press it to my breast. “Yes, Rukh.”
His touch is gentle, almost reverent as he circles my breast, stopping to touch each freckle. Then, his fingers move over my nipple, and it hardens in response. I moan softly and my arms go around his neck, leaning in closer. I want him to kiss me, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know how. The man’s a blank slate. I suppose that can be a good thing, but right now, I wish he’d lean in and press his mouth to mine.
Rukh knows how to do other things, though. His hand slides down my belly and moves to my pussy. His fingers dip between my folds and he finds my clit and immediately starts to circle it with the pad of his finger in just the way I like.
I moan and cling to him, my knees weak at his touch. He pulls away, startled, and tries to help me stand.
“No, it’s good, I promise,” I tell him. And so it won’t happen again, I nestle up against him, my back pressing to his stomach. His cock pushes at the small of my back, hard and insistent. I move his hand back to my breast, and he cups it from behind me. “Like that,” I tell him. Now, if my knees get weak, I’ll just sag against him.
A low groan rises in his throat and he strokes my breast while his other hand goes to my pussy. He seeks out my clit and begins the soft, slow touches that I like so much. I shudder against him, pressing back against his body. He holds me close, and his face presses against my throat. I feel small against him, cherished and adored at his careful caresses. My cootie purrs heavily, and I feel his vibrating against my back. His touch feels so good, and it doesn’t t
ake long before I’m writhing against him, desperate to orgasm. I need to show him so much more—
But then I come, and the world explodes behind my eyes, and I cry out.
He groans and holds me tight against him. I feel his cock rub against my back, and he grips me against him, rubbing hard. A moment later, hot warmth spreads over my back, and I realize he’s come, too.
At some point, we really should take the next step. I sigh blissfully and sink back into the hot water, boneless and numb. He keeps touching me, stroking and petting my skin, wiping his come off of my back and then just touching me as if to reassure himself that I truly am here.
My fingers are wrinkling up, though, and I wring out my wet hair, then gesture at my clothing on the bank. “Let’s get dressed and then we’ll go back to the cave and talk about…things.”
His brows draw together. “Repeat?”
I chew on my lip, thinking of the best way to explain. I decide to just show him. Leaning forward, I take his face in my hands and pull his mouth down to mine for a quick kiss. “Harlow wants to show you things.” And then I reach down and caress his still-hard cock under the water.
Recognition dawns on his face, and he strokes his hands over my shoulders. “Har-loh…things.”
“Yes, all kinds of things.” Maybe it’s time we take this resonance thing head-on. I smile up at him and wipe wet hair from his brow. “Harlow and Rukh things.”
He bares his teeth in a grin and presses his mouth to mine. It’s not quite a kiss – more like a mashing of faces – but the sentiment is there, and I chuckle. The man gets points for effort.
I get out of the water and climb onto the bank. Immediately I feel the chill – the air is frigid and getting out of hot water into the icy breeze is brutal. I need to find a better way of bathing. Shivering, I drag my clothing on as quickly as I can, but I feel like an icicle by the time I’m dressed. I swath my thick fur cloak over my hair, making sure to keep it covered so it doesn’t freeze over in the wind. “I’ll probably regret this later,” I tell myself, but I’m willing to put up with some sniffles to be clean. I bend over to put a boot on—