by Ruby Dixon
And my groin tightens in anticipation.
She makes a little squeak of nervous sound but gets to her feet. Her eyes are wide as she moves slowly toward me.
I get to my feet and when she comes to stand before me, it takes everything I have not to crush her against my chest. I want to hold her, to feel her warm skin against mine. I want to protect her from the world. But for now? I will settle for touching her.
I can feel the tension between us, crackling like lightning. I reach for the laces at the neck of her tunic, and she shivers. “Cold?” I ask.
“Just…nervous.” She gives me a faint little smile. “Silly, right?”
Not so silly. “I am nervous, too.”
My confession startles her and her gaze flicks back up to me. “You are?”
I nod slowly. “I worry if I do something wrong, you will run…again.” I pull at the laces, untying the loose knot at her neck. I am admitting too much, but if she is being honest and open with me, how can I not do the same for her?
Now she is all curiosity. “You mean when I left at the ship? When you were being a jerk?”
I indicate that she should lift her arms so I can pull the tunic over her head. She does so, obedient, and while her face is hidden, I admit my shame. “I was cruel to you because I was ashamed that I could not control myself.”
Then the tunic is in my hands. I am careful not to look at her naked body as she steps out of her boots, though I want nothing more than to gawk at her. As my gaze meets hers, she gives me a confused expression. “Control yourself?”
I groan inwardly. Do humans not have a word for it? “My desire was so great I…lost control.” I emphasize the last two words, not sure how much clearer I can make it. My jaw grits as shame washes over me. “I…should have done better.”
Comprehension dawns on her face and her eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh. You…okay. I get it now. That’s why you were a jerk?” A little smile curves her mouth. “I thought you were just being mean to me because I wasn’t enthusiastic enough.”
“Never. You are perfect, always.” I move to the pouch of warm water and dig in my nearby bag for a cleansing cloth - soft, hairless leather that has been worked soft enough that it smooths over the skin easily and soaks up water. I dip it in and then turn to her, rubbing her small shoulders with the wet cloth. She shivers and I instinctively move between her and the entrance to this strange cave, to block the breeze.
“Haeden?”
I look down at her, meeting her eyes.
“I don’t want you to be embarrassed, okay? It’s a normal thing and we’ve both been pushing our cooties hard with this whole resonance thing. I don’t want you to feel weird about it.” She reaches out as if to touch my arm, hesitates before putting her palm down, then turns her hand and rubs the back of it along my skin. “It happens.”
“It should not have happened to me,” I say, irritated.
Her lips twitch and she pats my arm with the back of that hand. “I don’t mind. It makes me like you more.” At my scowl, she explains herself. “It gives me a reason why you were mean to me, and it’s not a bad one. I thought you were just being a jerk.”
I do not know what a jerk is, but I can guess it is not something pleasant. I smooth the wet cloth over her shoulders, frowning to myself at how thin she is, how pale her skin is. I will focus on that and not how creamy and soft she looks, or the delicateness of her bones. I will focus on how fragile she is and not how beautiful. “It was my first time. I wanted to get it right.”
She gasps and stills. “Your first time?”
My gaze flicks to hers, and again, I feel the spark between us. My khui sings loudly, desperate for me to claim her. My cock presses against my breechcloth, but I ignore all these things. I focus on her small, round face, her big blue eyes that look up at me with such curiosity. “Of course. I told you, I did not claim Zalah.”
“And she died when you were young…” Sympathy fills her expression. “Oh, Haeden. We’ve both had crappy experiences with sex, haven’t we?”
“I have had no experience with sex,” I grumble, and lean to the pouch of water to wet my cloth again.
“Fair enough,” she says.
When I turn, she stretches, putting her arms over her head.
The cloth falls from my hand.
She is…beautiful. Her body is lean but curved in different places than the women of my tribe. She is all pink flesh and softness, and my hands itch to touch her. My gaze roams over her, hungry, and I focus on the small, pert breasts that jut from her chest, the nipples small and hard. Below them, her stomach is rounded and her hips swell out in a gentle curve leading to slim thighs. Between them, there is a dark patch of hair that matches her mane.
I groan, closing my eyes. One of my fists presses against the side of my cock, and I struggle to remain in control. “Jo-see, what do you do?”
“I’m just…stretching.” But there’s a sly little smile on her face that makes my heart race. “Keep washing?”
I nod, trying to regain control. I give her a heated look that tells her exactly what I am thinking.
She just gives a little wiggle, bouncing on her feet. “I’m cold. Can we hurry this along?”
Her breasts bounce enticingly and my nails dig into my palm. I force myself to nod, and then I pick up the washcloth and begin to bathe her again. I run it over her arms and her shoulders…and then back over her arms again. And then her shoulders. I fear for my control if I wash her any lower.
Jo-see makes a humming sound of pleasure and then turns around. “My back now?”
I grunt acknowledgment and swab her shoulders again. She now has the cleanest shoulder blades of any female ever born. In response to my movements, she squirms and arches against the cloth. “Lower?”
Drips of water slide down her back, gliding along her spine and down to her buttocks. I watch a droplet disappear between the cleft of her ass and close my eyes. This is…difficult. My cock aches fiercely, and I can feel the pre-cum slicking the head. I picture throwing her down on the floor and mounting her, her legs spread wide and that sly little smile on her face as I claim her.
But…then I picture her injured hands slapping on the floor, and that dashes my arousal. I would never cause her harm. While she is wounded, I will not touch her with anything but carefulness. Renewed, I clench my jaw with determination, kneel behind her and scrub her back as if she were any other sa-khui and we were not mated.
Jo-see gives a small sigh. “Thank you. That’s much better. My skin felt itchy after all the traveling.” And she turns around.
The cloth falls from my fingers once more.
As she turns, my eyes are level with her small, pink-tipped breasts. From here, I am close enough to see the dewy softness of her skin, and I can smell her. I can smell the faint sweat - not unpleasant in the slightest - the hint of smoke from the fire that lingers, and I can smell her arousal.
She is death to my control.
“Now my front?” She says brightly, and gives another one of those ache-inducing wiggles.
I groan, my head dropping. “Why do you torture me?”
“Because it’s fun?” she admits with a throaty little laugh. “I know it’s terrible of me, but I like seeing the effect I have on you.”
So she wishes to play games, does she? I should be angry, but I find that I’m more interested in touching more of her fascinating body…and inhaling more of her scent. I scoop the cloth up once more, dunk it into the water, and then begin to wash her front. I slide the cloth over her breasts, and to my surprise, she shivers and her skin prickles in response to my touch.
The scent of her arousal deepens.
Pleased, I pull the cloth over her breasts again. Her nipples don’t scrape against my hand, and I am surprised. They are as soft as the rest of her, unlike the women of my tribe. I am fascinated and want to touch one, but I do not yet have her permission. So I wash.
A soft noise escapes her throat.
I look up and he
r eyes are heavy-lidded as she watches me, her expression dazed. The smell of her arousal grows even more, until her perfume seems to fill the entire cave.
“You like it when I touch you,” I say, fiercely pleased. If she wishes for us to be bold with each other, I shall join in her game.
“Mmmhmm.” Her lips part, but her gaze is completely focused on me.
I lightly move the cloth down her stomach. “Shall I go lower?”
She bites her lip, her small, square teeth brushing over her full mouth, and then she nods, need in her eyes.
Another fierce surge of possessiveness moves through me. My mate is letting me touch her. Bathe her. Please her. There is nothing better. Already I’m addicted to the musky scent of her need in my nostrils. My cock is hard and insistent, but my focus is entirely on Jo-see.
The small tuft of hair that covers her sex is mere fingerspans from the cloth, and I slowly drag it downward. I wait for her to tell me to stop, to push me away and scream that she hates me. But she trembles and is silent, and all the while the scent of her perfumes the air.
As she gazes down at me, I touch her. The cloth brushes over her folds, and the sweet, hot scent of her arousal grows stronger. My khui hammers in my breast, insistent and wild.
Jo-see moans softly.
My grasp over my control is very close to breaking. Her hips are too close, the object of my desire within reach. One hand brushes over the rounded curve of her hip, and I close my eyes, then look up at her. “Tell me that I should not touch you, Jo-see.”
Confusion flits over her face. “W-what?”
“Tell me that I should not touch you,” I repeat again. “Tell me that I should not press my mouth to your skin and taste your cunt.”
She licks her lips. She opens her mouth to speak—
And then closes it again.
Jo-see is giving me permission.
I groan and pull her close, burying my face between her legs. I barely hear her little gasp as I hold her hips, my tongue seeking out the folds hidden by the tiny thatch of hair between her legs. Wetness blooms on my tongue and then I have the taste of her in my mouth - tart, musky, sweet.
This is what I have needed.
I swipe my tongue over her folds and she cries out, leaning heavily against me. I do not want her to harm her hands, so I tug on her legs, indicating she should join me on the floor, but my mouth never leaves her cunt. I want to remain here forever.
Through awkward motions and tangling of limbs, I manage to get her on the floor, on her back, and from here, I can taste her to my heart’s desire. I drag my tongue over the tender, wet folds, exploring her. She is soft here, so soft. The well of her cunt is scorching hot, and I dip my tongue there, unable to resist. She writhes against me, making soft whimpering noises and panting. I love the sounds, almost as much as I love her taste. I can feel her khui singing, all through her body.
I stroke my tongue over her folds again and then discover the third nipple that the other males have mentioned when discussing their human mates. She has a tiny nub, half-hidden in the slick petals of her cunt. When my tongue grazes it, she cries out. I do not know if it is a good cry or a bad cry, so I lick downward instead.
“Go back,” she begs, frantic need in her voice. “I’m so close!”
So it is a good cry. I return and begin to work the nipple once more. I roll it against the tip of my tongue and then lick it, trying to determine the way she likes the most. Her little cries grow more frantic as I circle it with my tongue, so I continue to do so, lost in the pleasure of giving her this. My breechcloth is stuck to my body, and I am positive that I have come already, but it does not matter. Nothing matters except this.
Her body arches and she cries out, and more wetness floods into my mouth. She’s coming. I groan and lap it up, my khui singing with fierce intensity. It will have to wait for another time. For now, my Jo-see is pleasured and I am content.
I continue to taste her and nuzzle against her folds as she rocks against my face, her movements slowing. Finally, she gives a gusty sigh and then all of the tension seems to leave her body. When I lick her again, she squirms. “You can stop now, Haeden. I came.”
Stop? I never want to stop. I could live with my face buried between her sweet thighs. But I lift my head, because pleasing her is more important than what I want. I sit up next to her and lick my lips. And then lick them again, because I can taste her on my skin and already I crave more.
She presses the back of a hand to her forehead and a small laugh bubbles up inside her. “I think we forgot about bathing.”
“We did not forget,” I say. “You were distracted.”
She kicks at me playfully.
I cannot help the grin that curves my mouth. She’s smiling, some of the tension that she carries vanished. Her naked body is a glorious sight to see, and I drink it in, still hungry for her.
Her gaze slides to me. “Thank you.”
Why is she thanking me? I gave her a mate’s due. But I don’t want to argue, so I simply nod.
“What…what about you?”
“I finished as well.” If we are being honest, there is no sense in hiding it. Oddly enough, I feel no shame this time. Is it because she clearly enjoyed my tasting her? And when she nods and dismisses it as if it is nothing, I realize there is no shame to be had, only pleasure between us.
I pick up my cloth and dip it into the water, determined to finish bathing my mate.
14
JOSIE
I curl up in the blankets near the fire and watch Haeden as he works. I’m sleepy, clean, and well pleasured, and my hands are tightly bound again with more numbing cream. Behind me, deep in the ship, there’s some old dead bodies and in the wall are two strangers who are waiting for their chance to be freed. These things are important, I’m sure, but I’m more interested in watching Haeden’s movements and contemplating our situation.
I might be obsessing - just a little - over the oral sex from earlier. And who can blame me? It was amazing. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm. I came so hard my toes curled. And maybe I’m sending mixed signals all over the place, but I couldn’t help it. The way he was looking at me made me want to push the boundaries.
So I’d pushed. And I’d gotten rewarded with the most intense orgasm ever.
I tuck the blankets closer around my body and watch him as he bends over the fire. He’s doing a myriad of things - smoking some meat for travel, sharpening his blades, and making sure the fire stays nice and hot. He’s got hot tea warming in the pouch, and off to one side there’s a freshly-scraped skin rolled up, waiting to be finished. I’ll say one thing for Haeden - he’s not lazy. Nor does he expect me to do anything. If it were up to him, I’d sit around and let him pamper me all day while he works.
It’s kind of nice. It’s also kind of messing with my head.
I don’t hate the guy anymore. I can’t. Not after hearing the reason why he’s been so standoffish. He’s been afraid. I can’t even blame him for that - he’s been living in a state of fear, worried that what happened to his last mate is going to happen to me. And haven’t I been doing the same thing? I’ve been worried sick about bringing a child into the world and forcing it to grow up unloved and miserable like I did.
I think now we’re starting to realize that both of us are wrong. Maybe, just maybe this thing between us can end up working out. I’m cautiously optimistic.
I’m also an utter horn-ball because as he leans over the fire, I think about him being a virgin. I think about him making sure I orgasm and taking nothing for himself. I want to turn the tables on him and do the same for him, actually. I want to see how he reacts if I touch him. If I lick him the way he licked me. The thought makes me give a little shiver and my cootie starts up again. I might not be ready to seal the deal on this resonance thing, but I’m down with exploring a little.
Of course, I can’t do anything right now with my hands like they are, but I can use my imagination.
<
br /> He looks up and catches me staring. His eyes narrow. “What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
He grunts a response, and when I don’t say anything, he looks over at me again. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you going to tell me what you are thinking?”
Oh. I don’t want to tell him I’m thinking about giving him a blow-job so I cast about for another topic. “Do you like children?”
Haeden looks at me like I’m asking the world’s stupidest question, and okay, I can’t blame him. I just asked a man who comes from a slowly dying tribe who had very few children prior to the arrival of humans. Of course children are prized.
“I just…I want a lot of kids,” I said. “When I settle down, I want a big family. I never had one, you know? So I always dreamed about having tons of babies and just filling my house with them. Like five or six or even eight kids. I’d be down with that. You?”
“That is a lot of mouths to feed.”
I feel weirdly crushed at his response. “I…guess it is.”
He scrapes at his knife, not looking me in the eye. “Then it is lucky for you that I am an excellent hunter.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “That is lucky.”
For the first time, I let myself picture Haeden as my mate. He’d come home after a long day of hunting and I’d have a baby – or two! – at my feet. He’d set down his spears, head in and give me a kiss, then scoop up a child in his arms. We’d talk about his day, I’d feed my family and we’d enjoy our time in our cozy cave. After the babies were put to bed, we’d spend the night snuggling and making more babies.
I imagine Haeden with a baby in his arms and feel curiously melty. He’d be a good dad, I decide. Firm but fair. And doting, I add as he picks up a tea cup and brings it to my lips so I can sip at it without hurting my hands. When I’m done drinking, I think about the mental image again. A kiss. We haven’t kissed yet. Before, I thought it was because he didn’t care, but I suspect it’s because he doesn’t know how.