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Her head jerked up, her long brown hair shifting with the motion. She wore her hair in a way that I’d never seen before, with a fringe of it cut short and blunt above her slender eyebrows. If someone had tried to describe such a look to me, I would have scoffed at how absurd it sounded. Who would cut a chunk of their hair short above their eyes? What would be the purpose of such a thing? But somehow, she made it look nice. It framed her face and led my gaze down to her absorbing, dark sight stars in those milky pools of white.
“What?” she asked. “Like, on this planet? You don’t know the story?”
“I know it,” I growled. Oh, yes. I knew it. I knew how men had hurt the new women, dragged them out of their world and dumped them here to die. I hated those faceless cowards more than I’d ever hated anyone, even Gahn Thaleo. But whenever I thought about it, the most peculiar war of emotions erupted inside me.
Any male who took her, who hurt her, was a male to be destroyed.
But if those males had not done such a thing, then she wouldn’t be here now. With me.
“I mean, why did you volunteer to tend to me?” I clarified.
“Oh.” She seemed suddenly unable to meet my gaze. “Honestly... I don’t even know. I kind of did it without thinking.” A small smile touched her lips. “Well, maybe it’s only fair. You cleaned my wound this morning, after all.”
Cleaned her wound. Oh, yes, I’d done a good and thorough job of that. Licked my tongues nearly all the way up to her cunt in the process.
“But I’m not going to lick you,” she said, her voice firm, but the smile still there.
I grunted noncommittally, trying (and rather unfortunately failing) to ignore the stranglehold of desire the thought of Fiona running her wet, pink tongue all over my body had.
I never thought I would live to see a day when I regretted the fact I had no wound upon my cock.
Gut me like a dakrival. Now I was imagining her tongue on my cock. It thickened hopefully beneath my shredded loincloth, and my muscles went taut in response.
Fiona’s smile vanished instantly.
“What is it? Does something hurt? Like, more than before?” she asked, peering at the deepest wounds on my chest. “Shit. I shouldn’t be sitting around here just chatting to you! Let’s get these wounds healed then we’ll clean you up.”
With her tongue...
My cock twitched.
She really needed to stop talking about cleaning me.
“Now, I’m no healer,” she said as she dumped Vrika’s blood onto a clean square of hide. “I know some super basic first aid stuff. And I know about tattoo aftercare. But that’s about it. So if I’m doing something wrong, you have to let me know.” She paused, then shook her head. “Who am I kidding? Of course you’ll let me know.”
The words themselves were innocuous enough, but something in her tone that I could not quite identify bothered me.
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean, if you’re willing to tell me how stupid the placement of my ears is, something I can’t even help or control, then no doubt you’ll let me know if I’m not dealing with your wounds correctly.”
She began to dab the Vrika’s blood across my chest.
“I do not believe I used the word stupid,” I said, thinking back on the earlier conversation.
“Close enough,” she said.
“You certainly cannot control the placement of your ears, this is true,” I conceded, “but you can control whether you use them to your best advantage or not. I see you have not taken my advice to braid your hair, or to at least tuck it behind your ears.”
She heaved a sigh, putting down her healing supplies to shove the silky brown strands back.
“There!” she said with false cheer. “All the better to hear your criticism with.”
“You... are angry,” I said, observing the emotion in her but utterly mystified as to its origin.
She sighed again, but it was gentler this time. She resumed her attention to my chest, and my skin prickled in response, tendrils of sensation shooting down to my groin.
“No. I mean yes, but no. I’m just being weirdly sensitive. And the thing is, I don’t even think I’d be mad if any other alien guy had said the same thing. Like, yeah, no duh, a lot of our anatomy isn’t as primo as yours. Ears, eyes, strength, whatever. There’s no arguing with that fact. I just...”
