Mavyx draws patterns here, too, his fingers finding my shiny new stretch marks. He traces them, causing my temporary skin-stars to follow my tiger stripes, making me sigh. I'd had a few on my hips and boobs before the pregnancy - being a bigger girl, and all - but these newbies are a lot more prominent. "I could really do with an oil or something for those."
Mavyx looks up at me, his feather-light touch stilled on my belly. "Do they hurt?"
I shake my head. "No, but it might help minimize their appearance and stop me getting more when I get as big as a house."
Grunting, Mavyx turns to go to one of the higher shelves he'd erected for me in my hut - one of the ones I have a snowball's chance in hell at being able to reach on my own. "I may have something," he mutters, moving around whatever it is he's put up there. "Though I do not understand your need to minimize them. My males wear their battle scars with pride."
I stand behind him, hands on my hips, only just now realizing how much stuff he has up there. Has he been slowly moving himself in? "They aren't battle scars," I protest, though my eyes are still following the way his hands move various items around - items that definitely belong to him, considering there seems to be a whole collection of spearheads up there.
Mavyx looks at me over his shoulder. "No, they are precious markings the Goddesses have given you while your body creates life."
Huffing, I cross my arms over my chest. This guy needs to stop saying shit like that or I'm going to fall in love with him.
The thought hits me like a thunderbolt, making me stand up straighter as if I need to be more alert for ...something. Like I'm about to get struck down by an awful threat.
Mavyx doesn't seem to notice. Having apparently found what he was looking for, he turns, a small clay jug in hand and a smile on his face. However, my eyes snag on something newly revealed up on that high shelf behind him.
My ugly-ass seed pot.
Why the fuck does he have that?
Before I have the chance to even ask, Mavyx is kneeling in front of me. Even at this height, his wings arch taller than I stand. Taking a sniff of whatever he has in the small jug, he then offers it to me to smell too. "Oil from the blue plant," he explains.
Bringing the jug to my nose, I'm pleasantly surprised by the floral, but earthy scent. "The blue plant?" I ask, handing back the oil.
Mavyx shrugs. "It is blue. It is a plant."
I can't help but laugh at that. "How imaginative."
"May I?" he asks, jug half-tilted into his palm. His eyes darting between my face and belly.
I-
God-damn it! Why is he so sweet?
Nodding my head, I watch as he pours the tiniest amount of midnight-blue oil into the center of his waiting palm and then rubs both hands together before offering them up to my stomach.
I blanch, stepping back a fraction. "Is this going to turn me blue?" I ask, eying his now indigo stained hands.
"The oil is this color at first," he tells me, a handsome smile on his face. "Then it melts into the skin the more you massage it in. It is used on Trixikka skin that has become dry from too much flying out in the open winds. The blue does not remain."
Ok. I'm not nearly peppy enough to become Smurfette 2.0, but I soon find that it probably wasn't the fear of being stained blue that had me hesitating. Mavyx's large, warm hands gently smooth over my swollen stomach, gliding slowly, working in a soothing circular motion, painting my belly blue.
And it's so...nice. Comforting. Sweet.
I close my eyes and try to relax - try to remember why I shouldn't fall head first into... whatever the fuck this is between Mavyx and I. When I open my eyes again, I find him with all his focus on gently rubbing the blue oil into my skin, the tint becoming more and more faint with each pass of his massive hands.
There's an odd sort of rolling feeling in my belly that makes Mavyx first freeze, and then pull away, a look of confusion on his features. It's been happening a lot more recently; the baby moving. I normally feel it at night when the whole world is sleeping and still. It's almost like it wants to remind me I'm not alone in those moments - even with Mavyx's huge body slumbering right next to me.
This is the first time he's experiencing it, though. Hell - the first time any living Trixikka is experiencing anything like this. I grab his hands and put them back on my stomach. "I think she likes you touching me," I tell him.
His golden eyes find mine, his lips parted in what could only be described as awe before he's back to staring at my stomach again. "She?"
"Just a guess," I shrug.
"A daughter," he mutters to himself. "Our tribe has not seen a daughter in generations."
No, I don't suppose they have.
