“Yes,” I whisper, guiding him closer. He positions himself, the broad head of his main cock pressing against my entrance, slick from my arousal and his own. He pushes in slowly, stretching me deliciously, those plates along the ridge rippling to life, stroking my inner walls in ways that send sparks exploding behind my eyes.
“Oh, Kenz’ox...” I clutch at his shoulders as he fills me completely, that incredible length seating deep. Then the smaller one finds my clit, pulsing and rubbing in perfect, eager strokes, already slick and insistent.
He starts to move, with deep, powerful thrusts, each one claiming me and reclaiming this beach from the monsters that tried to take us today. The rhythm builds with the waves, crashing harder, faster. His eyes lock on mine in the dim light, glowing with something raw and tender beneath the lust.
“My Dorie,” he growls, voice breaking on the words. “Mine. Forever.”
The words shatter me. I cry out, pulling him down for another kiss as my body tightens around him. “Yes,” I gasp against his lips. “I love you. I love you.”
“And I love you.” He groans, thrusts turning wild, the plates stiffening and rippling inside me, driving me higher. The slimmer shaft pulses frantically against my clit, and it’s too much. I come undone, clenching around him in waves of blinding pleasure, screaming his name into the night.
He follows moments later, burying himself deep with a roar that echoes over the beach, spilling hot inside me as his body shudders. We cling together, panting, the ocean whispering approval around us.
“Nowthis beach is ours,” I pant as the aftershocks die down. “No Big can deny it.”
“They can try,” Kenz’ox rumbles beside me. “But we will just show them again.”
I stretch on the still-warm sand. “We may have to show them many times. They’re not very smart.”
“It might take them a while to learn,” Kenz’ox chuckles. “And I don’t mind that.” He slowly gets up, his silhouette against the crimson sky like a Greek statue—except those usually don’t have those exotic and insistent protrusions about halfway up.
He reaches his hand down to me. “Let’s check on the roasting skarn.”
I put on the dinosaur-skin dress that Cora gave me. It’s much more comfortable than the jumpsuit the aliens on that weirdspace station gave me, and it’s more suitable for this active lifestyle. When the girls were here, we cowered inside the saucer and ate the gruel it dispensed.
Now, whatever happens, at least I’m not hiding. And Kenz’ox said I’m a warrior.
I pick up the leather sheet and the spear and take his hand. “Good. I’m hungry.”
- - -
Days pass with no more attacks. Kenz’ox goes to hunt and check on the tribesmen whose dinner he took, but apparently, they left, just like he said. He teaches me some tricks to avoid getting lost, and despite his protests, I go on a couple of food-gathering missions.
I’m even able to find the leather pouch that I dropped, and while the fruits have gone bad, the nuts look fine. I discover a cluster of blue-white Plood mushrooms and note that they don’t seem to be growing any larger. They look like Plood, though, and are unspeakably creepy, with little arms and legs sticking out from the main body. I kick over some of them, leaving just one that I can’t easily reach. One Plood isn’t going to be a problem. If that’s even how these things work.
Kenz’ox gets the frit still working, and we quickly build another hut for drying meat.
I keep making the boots, which is much harder than I thought. The dino leather is hard to shape, cut, and even harder to sew. I have to drill holes with the drok claws on my necklace to pass the wooden needle through the material, pulling leather strands asthick as charging cables. It takes me days to finish the first one. It’s a sad, misshapen chaos of weird leather pieces with sharp corners sticking out and thin leather bands crisscrossing it to give it a semblance of shape. It looks less like a moon boot and more like something an artsy Inuit might wear to a rave party on a glacier. But I am able to put it on, and if I add some dry grass around my foot, it almost fits.
I give it to Kenz’ox to admire.
“Hmm,” he says, holding it up to the light on three fingers. “It’s very wonderful. Just perfect. What is it?”
“It’s amoon boot,” I tell him confidently, because he doesn’t know what those are supposed to look like. “For walking in the jungle without hurting your feet.”
He gives it back to me. “Ah. Yes, some boys in the tribes do step on sharp things in the jungle before they learn not to.”
“Well,” I sniff, “with this, you can step on sharp things.”
“Wonderful and useful,” he says as he gets Aker’iz to feed her. “For those who enjoy stepping on sharp things.”
“I will make for Aker’iz too,” I promise. “Girls don’t like to walk in jungles barefoot.”
“Then she shall not,” he says as he sits down. “Munbuts, Aker’iz. That’s not something we ever had in the old tribe, is it? Very alien.”
“Uuporlgs!” Aker’iz isn’t too interested in the boot talk and reaches her little hands for the mug where her father has mashed up nuts, fruit, and some fat from a delicious creature he brought back from a hunt.
Otis comes stalking, and I throw him some cold pieces of meat. He’s growing just as fast as Aker’iz, and I start to worry about where it will end. Kenz’ox says he will only grow to reach a caveman’s hips, but he’s not far from there now. As long as he stays friendly, we can deal with him.
