Barbarian Mine

by Ruby Dixon

  Yeah, I know, stupid cootie. It’s not like I can forget with the thing going off like an alarm clock every time I turn around. I rub my chest as Rukh leads me forward.

  The rolling hills curve into a steep valley, and I notice a cave mouth set off into the rock.

  “Here,” Rukh says again, and gives my hand a squeeze.

  I have to admit, the cave looks promising. The entrance is nice and big, taller than myself and Rukh combined. It looks like there’s a bit of a twist once you walk in, which is also good – that means the wind won’t whistle through the cave all night and chill my sorry human butt. Rukh motions for me to wait outside while he goes in, knife in hand, to ensure nothing’s living inside. I hear a scuffle a few moments later, and then Rukh appears with a pair of fat quill beasts hanging from his hand. He’s got a few quills sticking out of his arm, but seems pleased.

  “I guess we’re stealing their home, huh?” I smile at him. The animal lover in me should be upset that we’re raiding their cave and taking it over, but living on Not-Hoth has taught me that it’s very much kill-or-be-killed around here.

  Plus, the quill-beasts make a tasty lunch.

  I follow Rukh into the cave, cautious. There’s not a lot of natural light to see by, but the ceiling of the cave is tall, so at least we can keep a fire going and not choke on the smoke. There’s a nice big interior room in the cave and a few nooks that we can use for storage. There’s a perfect spot for a fire pit, and an alcove that will make a good sleeping spot. It’s the nicest cave I’ve seen so far, and it makes me happy. “I like it,” I tell Rukh excitedly, not that he can understand me. He’ll grasp the tone of my voice.

  He smiles at me and gestures at the floor, indicating sleep.

  “Yes, this will be home,” I agree. The place needs a good sweep and some prepping, but the potential is awesome. I can’t stop smiling. Home, after so long. I love it. Eager, I follow behind him as he shows me the stream of fresh water nearby that comes from deep within the rock and trickles down the cliffs. He leads me to the beach, and I make mental comparisons. The waves are larger than the gentle surf I remember at home, and each one crashes hard against the sand. The sand itself is a dark, glittery green, and the water has a greenish tinge instead of Caribbean blue. But it’s the beach, and it’s familiar to me. It makes this feel like an Earth vacation instead of being totally stranded.

  That is, until I see the sand-scorpions.

  They crawl along the beach, a weird, Geiger-esque cross between a spider and a scorpion. Many legs scuttle along the sand, all leading back to a thorny-looking carapace covered with spikes. As a wave rolls in, the legs dig into the sand and it hunches down. When the wave rolls back again, it unhooks itself from the beach and scuttles along its way, a feeler (or stinger) bobbing overhead.

  It’s easily the most disgusting looking thing I’ve seen so far. I make a face of horror and point it out to Rukh. “Look! So gross!”

  He gives me a surprised smile and then trots forward in the sand. When he drives his knife through the center of one, I squirm and gag quietly. Damn language barrier. He must have seen it and thought I wanted lunch. Eeeew. Guess I’m having crab legs for dinner. As Rukh holds it up and legs twitch wildly, I amend that thought.

  Rukh is having crab legs. No way am I letting that thing near my mouth, cooked or not.

  The salty breeze picks up, and I gaze down the beach. Actually, now that I look at things, there’s not a lot like Earth here on this beach other than the water and sand. The waves are rough, and out in the distance, I see greenish icebergs floating in the water. Dark shapes move on the distant ice, and on the shore, there’s an ostrich-like something bobbing for things in the waves a short ways away. As I peer at the water, undulating humps flash and then disappear again.

  Oh well. I didn’t want to swim anyhow. I just want a nice home, and this will do. I smile encouragingly at Rukh as he returns to my side. “I like this place, big guy.”

  “Eat?” He asks, holding the leggy sand-scorpion out to me.

  I shake my head, swallowing hard. “Later.” Much, much later. I wish I had a piece of paper to write on, because I feel like I need to make a list of everything we need to make this place a home. Blankets, spears, a stack of dung-firewood, maybe some of those pink potato-like plant trees that grew near the old tribal caves if we can find them…I stare off into the distance, mentally cataloguing things. Just thinking about everything that needs to be done is exhausting, because the only people here to work are myself and Rukh.

  At my side, Rukh puts his kill into his bag, sheathes his knife, and then takes my hand in his. The smile dies from his face and he reaches out to touch my cheek.

  Uh oh. “What’s wrong?”

  His throat works, and then he stares off at the ocean. Worry shoots through me, and I reach out and touch his arm, squeezing it. Or I would if he didn’t have those strange plates running along his skin. But he gets the idea, and he reaches out to touch my cheek, a faint smile on his face again. “Vaashan home.”

  I tilt my head and my brain scrolls through the alien language, looking for a match. “I don’t recognize that word.”

  “Here.” He gestures at the sand, then at the distant cliffs. When I give a small shake to indicate my confusion, he pulls my hand to his cheek and rubs my knuckles against his skin. Then he sighs sadly and begins to tug me forward.

  I follow, though I admit I’m wary. What now? I can’t possibly imagine what he’s going to show me. We head down the beach, and Rukh seems to know exactly where he’s going. He already showed me the cave we were going to stay in…is someone else – or something else – nearby?

  I’m not prepared for what he shows me, though. We find another cave, and Rukh holds my hand tightly as we stoop and enter. This cave is some distance away from the other one, and very small. But I figure out what it is the moment I see the mound of rocks piled into an oval, and the beaded necklace hanging above on a rocky outcropping.

  This is a grave.

  Rukh drops to his knees by it, and he holds my hand tight, as if terrified of letting go. After a moment, he looks over at me. “Vaashan home.”

  “Vaashan is your father?” I ask. That has to be who this is. I’ve gotten a few hints from him over the time that I’ve known him that he was with his father, but then his father was gone. And of course, a wild boy has to come from somewhere.

  I stare down at the grave. I don’t even mind the crushing grip that Rukh has on my hand. He needs the comfort, and if there’s any small amount I can give him, I will. I try to imagine how heartbreaking this must have been for him: to be alone except for one other person, and then to lose that person? And then to have to bury them, alone? I stare at the mound of hand-sized rocks. These could not have come from the beach. How long had he gathered them to bury his father?

  How long has Rukh been alone?

  I rub his arm, utterly full of sympathy for my poor barbarian. “Were you very young when your father died?”

  The sad look he gives me has no comprehension, and I don’t press. It’s not something that needs to be told at the moment. I can guess from his wild appearance and his utter bafflement about certain things that he was rather young, indeed.

  My poor Rukh. No wonder he freaked out when we saw the other hunter. No wonder he clubbed me over the head and carried me off. He must have felt the resonance and acted on the possessive surge of feeling. He doesn’t know how to cope with needing another person.

  Hell, the fact that he cares for me probably scares the shit out of him. I know how that feels, but not to the depths he does. I’ve been ripped from everything I knew at home, but my family there was dead, and here, I’ve had the company of other humans.

  He’s had no one for so long.

  My chest resonates, and his picks up the song.

  I stroke his arm and lean my cheek against his shoulder. My poor mate. After all, we are mates, aren’t we? I’ve been fighting this so hard because I’ve been afraid, and seeing t
his has totally changed my perspective. How long has Rukh had to suffer alone? And now that he has someone – me – I’ve been pushing him away. I’ve been ignoring resonance because I’ve felt like I’m not ready.

  I wonder if anyone is truly ready, though.

  In that moment, I want to give Rukh everything I possibly can. I want to give him a mate, a family, teach him about sex, and share everything every day together. I want him to know he’s not alone.

  I want him to know someone else loves him. Someone else is there for him.

  My heart aches, and under the thick purring in my chest, I feel that this is good and right.

  Now’s the time for us to become one.

  Chapter Five

  RUKH

  Har-loh’s quiet as we leave my father’s grave. Seeing it always makes me sad, but today there’s only an ache of loss that she never got to meet him. I’m not beside myself with sorrow, not today. Today there’s too much to show my Har-loh. I need to make her a fire and set up the bed in the cave before it gets too dark.

  I can’t dwell on my past any longer. I say a small internal goodbye to my father and take Har-loh back to the portion of beach we will claim as ours. She says nothing, but I can tell she is thinking hard. I recognize the look on her face that tells me she wants to say many things to me, and we will have a language lesson later, perhaps.

  I touch her speckled hand. Is she hungry? She pointed out the crawler earlier, so I assumed she wanted to eat.

  She gives me an absent smile and squeezes my hand. “Snothing. Justhinkin.”

  Again, she gets the distant look on her face and I worry. Is something wrong? I’m pensive as we return to our new cave and we get to work. I make a fire pit and build a fire while she finds a dried branch on the beach and sweeps the floor of the cave. By the time I spit the crawler over the fire to cook, she’s taken off her outer layer of furs and has set them up as a bed. I feel a twinge of guilt that I made her leave the others behind. It’s warmer here, but will she still be cold? Am I making her suffer?

  I don’t want her to die like my father did. My heart clenches in my chest, and I can’t breathe at the thought. What will I do if Har-loh gets sick like my father did? I move to her side and swiftly pull her against me, holding her close. Touching her helps, but…it doesn’t feel like enough. What are we missing? A helpless growl of frustration sounds in my throat.

  As if she can sense my unease, Har-loh wraps her small arms around me. “Ino.” She cuddles with me for a moment, and then inhales. “Issat food? Smellsdelishis.” She gestures at the fire. When I pull the many-legged crawler off the fire and offer it to her, she wrinkles her nose. “Gahdtitsugly.”

  I rip off one of the legs and succulent pale meat shows from inside the hard shell. I’ve never eaten one of these cooked, but it looks and smells much better than it did raw. But because Har-loh is the most important thing to me, I won’t eat until she’s full.

  She makes a face as she takes the bite from me and gingerly puts it to her mouth. Her tongue flicks out to taste it, and my cock stirs in response at the sight. A moment later, her eyes light up and she looks at me in surprise. “Isgud!”

  She likes it? I tear another leg off and offer it to her.

  “Yeweet.” Har-loh gestures at me and picks at her leg, removing the hard carapace before prying out the flesh. I do the same, and the food is indeed tasty like this. My Har-loh knows so many things. She’s incredible. My chest thrums and hers picks up the song. She looks over at me and smiles, then takes another bite.

  And I relax and eat, too.

  By the time we’ve picked all the meat off the bones, Har-loh is full and washes her hands and mouth with some of the water from the skin. I do the same, since cleanliness seems important to her. Instead of sitting back down next to the fire with me, though, she moves to her bed.

  Har-loh pats the furs next to her. “Come here, Rukh.”

  I move to her side and crouch, curious. Is she tired and wishes to sleep early? Or does she want me to hold her close and touch her folds? My cock throbs at the thought and I resist the urge to stroke it. I like it better when she touches it, anyhow.

  Her hands move to my hair and she smooths it off my chest and pushes it behind my shoulders. “Rukh eez Har-loh’s mate, yes?” She touches her breast, which is thrumming with song. “Mate.” Then she taps my chest. “Rukh mate. This purr-purr-purr? This means ‘mate’. No purr-purr, no mate.”

  I don’t catch all of her words, but what she is saying makes sense. My chest did not start thrumming – purring, as she calls it – until she appeared. If it means she belongs to me, I will gladly let it purr all the time.

  “Purr-purr is ‘resonance’. Doyew nodatword?” She looks at me with wide blue eyes. When I don’t respond, she sighs and repeats her words. Purr-purr is resonance. I repeat them, too. Then it dawns on me. Ah. That is what this thrumming is called. “Resonance,” I say, and tap her chest, then mine.

  She nods. “Resonance…mates. Mates…” she screws up her face and then makes a gesture with her fingers. “Mates mayk bebbies. Kits.”

  “Kits?” For some reason, I recognize this word. It reminds me of what my father used to call me when I was young. Kits…are young ones, aren’t they? What does this have to do with resonance? My cock aches and I long to rub it against her belly. If she lies down on the furs, I’ll take that as my signal that she wants to, but for now she’s sitting up, a look of concentration on her face. What she’s saying is important and I shouldn’t be focused on my aching cock or how much I want to touch her and rub her until she makes that throaty little scream.

  Her gaze softens and the look she gives me is heated. “Resonance makes kits.”

  I grasp what she is saying, but I’m baffled as to how. My frown must show that, because she reaches out and strokes my cock.

  It immediately spurts, intense relief rocking through me and I come all over her hand.

  Har-loh looks startled, and then she gives me a wry look. “Sortalikedat.” She gestures at the wetness I’ve sprayed on her hand and that now covers my cock. “Yewmake kit witdis.”

  It takes several minutes of explaining and her gesturing at her body before I grasp what she’s saying. When I…release, it needs to get inside her? She takes my hand and guides it to her folds, and I feel an opening – hot and wet – and she gives a little shiver when I touch her there.

  I watch her face and I want to do this right. So I stroke my hand over my messy cock, and then take two of my slick fingers and push them at her entrance. She’s so wet here, her body sucks at my fingers. I bite back a groan at the sensation, then look up at her.

  She bites her lip and looks…unhappy. Then, she gives a small shake of her head. She takes a bit of fur that she keeps with her and wipes my hand and both of our bodies clean of my coming. “I’lljust showyew,” she whispers, and then tosses the cloth aside. Then, she touches my jaw and pulls me forward.

  Her lips brush over mine.

  I remain stiff, uncertain as to what is happening. Is this part of resonance?

  “Kiss,” she says softly. Then she moves her mouth over mine again. “Kiss.”

  “Kiss,” I repeat, and put my lips on hers.

  She nods, pleased. She seems to like kisses, so I do another, repeating the word. It feels ticklish, to graze my mouth against hers. And just when I’m getting used to the feeling, her tongue flicks out and darts against the seam of my mouth.

  I gasp and pull back, shocked. Scorching, recent memories of her tongue on my cock flood through my mind, and my cock returns to life, growing hard again. My chest begins to purr – to resonate – and Har-loh’s smile widens.

  “Kiss,” she says in her sweet voice, and then licks her lips.

  I’m fascinated by that small tongue. I want to feel it again. I lean forward, inviting her to return, and she presses her mouth to mine again. This time, her arms twine around my neck and she presses her body against me. Eager, I follow her lead and put my arms around he
r, too. I hold her close and when her tongue brushes against my lips again, I part mine to see what she will do.

  Her tongue snakes into my mouth and flicks against mine, and my cock instantly reacts. It’s like she’s licking me in all the places I’m most sensitive, and I tug her closer. I slide my tongue against hers cautiously, and when she makes a small sound of pleasure, I grow bolder. Is this how her people show affection? If so, I like it. Soon, I lose all worry that I don’t know how to act and just concentrate on tonguing her sweet mouth. My hands roam over her body, touching her back, her arms, everywhere I can.

  By the time she pulls her mouth from mine, we’re both panting. There’s a dazed look of pleasure in her eyes that I recognize. It’s like when I touch her late at night. Does this affect her similarly? I want to reach between her legs and see if she’s wet, but I wait to see what she will show me next. My body throbs with need, and my chest rumbles with the resonance. She’s going to show me how to make a kit with her. I think of the animals I’ve seen in the wild. Normally the male climbs atop the female and there is much screaming. Is this what we are about to do? Realization dawns. Of course I would not move my spend to her body with my hand. I have to get it inside her somehow. I look down at my cock, aching and erect.

  “Sokay,” Har-loh murmurs to me quietly. Her fingers dance over my skin, touching me. Then, she pulls her clothing off of her body, revealing herself to me. I’ve seen her nude before, but there’s something different about it as she sits in front of me. Maybe it’s the arch of her back that pushes her teats out. Or maybe it’s the look of anticipation in her face. I want to touch her all over.

  She lays aside her clothing and then scoots back on the bed, then reclines. Her teats thrust into the air, the little tips taut. The area between her thighs is shadowed but I can smell her arousal, and it makes my mouth water. My cock jerks and I have to fight hard not to touch it myself.