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“Because your opinion seemed so obvious,” she said, though she sounded unsure, her skin puckering between her brows. “I mean... you didn’t...”
“I didn’t what?” I snapped. “What should I have done? You put your mouth on mine and then you fled, never saying another word about it except to tell me it would never happen again. Like it meant nothing to you. Meanwhile I have thought of little else since that night.”
“You... You’ve thought... of little else?” Her slender throat constricted as she swallowed, and I fought to urge to palm that place, feel the muscles work and contract beneath my touch. “Were they good thoughts?” she squeaked. “Or bad ones?”
“Look at me now,” I hissed. “Look at me and tell me what you think the answer to that question is.”
At first, she did not seem to understand what I meant. She merely scrutinized my face, squinting with concentration. It wasn’t until – my nerves frayed to their barest bleeding edges, impatience biting at me like a beast – I whipped my ripped loincloth away from myself that she finally looked down.
“Oh.”
It was barely a word. More a fleeting exhalation of sound, dissipating the moment it met air.
Having her so close, smelling her, feeling her gaze on my groin like a physical touch, I grew to full hardness. Her face was streaked with redness, her eyes huge.
“So,” she said somewhat shakily, “you do like me? At least, that part of you does.”
She flapped a hand towards my cock, and even the lightness of air stirring over the engorged organ was agony.
“It is more than that part,” I said, my chest hitching.
And it was more than simple like.
I liked hunting. I liked meat. I liked... well, not much else, to be honest.
Fiona had become so far elevated above the concept of mere like that I was no longer sure there was a word for what I felt. Or if there was, it was one I had never used before.
“So you... Erm... Should I... Do you want...”
I did not think I had ever heard so many half-chewed thoughts come out of a mouth in my entire life.
“What do you want?” I said, cutting her off. She sat back on her haunches, blinked her large eyes with those deep and shadowy sight stars, and went red as an axrekal berry.
“I want to kiss you again. And I want to touch you,” she said on a whisper, like it was some hateful confession instead of words I had quite literally dreamed of hearing from her.
“Then do it.”
She advanced maddeningly slowly on her knees towards me, laying her hands on my chest. My heart beat like a mad thing, so feral for her I wondered if she’d be able to hear it beneath the bone and the muscle and the hide.
“Oh! Your poor mouth!” she said when her face was within a claw’s breadth of mine. “I forgot to put the Vrika’s blood on your lip.”
“It is fine,” I growled, my hands going instinctively to her waist to hold her there. A desperate part of me worried that if I let her get distracted, if I let her turn away now, then she would never come back.
“It’s not,” she retorted. “Human mouths are gross. I’m not going to give you all my jurmz when you’ve got an open wound in there!”
I did not know what jurmz were, but if they were hers then I would gladly take them. Maybe it was some mysterious part of human mating or reproduction. I’d always assumed that human women and Sea Sand males mated the same way Sea Sand people did, not that I had any direct personal experience with even that. But I knew enough of mating’s mechanics to know a man gave a woman seed.
Maybe a human had to give her male some jurmz. Like an exchange...
“You would not give me your jurmz?” I asked, feeling oddly bruised by this. But it was always easier to push anger outwards than to acknowledge hurt turned inwards, so my voice hardened and I gruffly snapped, “Why not? I want them. Give them to me.”
“And give you some infection? No thanks!” she said, half-laughing half-startled by my vehemence.
Well, I knew the word infection, at least.
“A female can give a male an infection just from mating?” I asked uncertainly. I wondered how high the fever might get. I’d endure it for her, certainly. Every day of my life if I had to. I just needed to know what was coming so that I could be prepared. I could not remember ever seeing a mated male fall ill after rutting his new woman, though...
“I mean... Technically, actually, yes,” Fiona said, looking thoughtful. “There are sexually transmitted infections on Earth. I don’t have any!” she said quickly. “I was pretty good about getting tested regularly. Plus, the guys who brought us here were nothing if not thorough. Checked all our medical records and stuff before they took us.”
