I… could not do the one thing a male should be able to do for his female. Protect her.
If I were perhaps a whole male for her, with two seeing eyes, I may have stood a better chance at besting those strange creatures. With two seeing eyes, I would have better aim, I could have launched my spear into their lightning weapons, or been more precise with my blade throwing.
What use is a male who cannot protect his female?
“You’re awake!” Bea’s voice is heavy with sleep, but the pleased tone to it goes a long way to knock my sorry thoughts from my head. For now at least.
“I am,” I say, smiling, my purr making itself known in my chest.
She leans up on her arm and grins down at me. “They told me you kept waking up and causing all sorts of hell trying to find me.”
Did I? “Where did you go?”
“I was telling Rynn, Mavyx and the others about what happened.”
I grunt, part in acknowledgement, and part in pain. I really do have to move now. Shifting, Bea gives me space to sit up and stretch out my wings.
“They were very shocked to hear what Zuul had suggested about Tyll.”
I pause, my wing hanging open mid-stretch and my purr dying in my chest. “There was no honor in his choices,” I say, baring my teeth, holding back the snarl behind them.
Bea nods her head, and tucks her hair behind her little, human ears. “Tyll didn’t want to stay with his Carer last night. He wanted to stay with us.”
Folding my wing back in, I give it a little shake to settle the feathers. “He could have stayed here. I would not have minded it. I am fond of the youngling.”
The smile she gives me is small but bright. It is then that she shifts and reveals some supplies that must have been brought to me during my sleep. A large carved bowl of water, some pots of salve, and many cloths. “Let me clean you up so we can cover your wounds.”
We are both quiet while Bea dips a cloth into the water, the droplets running down her hands and wrists as she wrings the thing out. I look up to her when she turns to me, her eyes roaming my form. Normally, whenever Bea would inspect me, I might spread my wings a little, or puff up my chest in hopes that she could be impressed by my size. But I know right now that,as well as the many scars I carry, I am also still covered in sweat and dirt from the jungle. I am likely not a very impressive sight.
Still, I crave her nearness in a way that stars crave the night, and all it takes is a twitch of a smile on her lips when my tail brushes against her calf, and I find myself tugging her closer. She lands in my lap with an adorable little yelp, making my purr start again. She giggles and shifts herself so that her knees are spread to either side of my hips - a position that is a danger to both male and female. Risky for the female, because she is vulnerable and open. Devastating to the male, because he will hand over hiseverythingto this little female. At least, I would.
I smile to myself at the thought. My everything ceased to be my own possessions when she came to this place anyway.Sheis my everything, and I am so blessed that she was not taken from me this last day.
I smile up at her and she hums, twisting to dip the cloth in the water again. A shaft of morning sunlight slices through the air in our hut. It pours in from where I had speared through my own roof to get to Tryk up there. The dim of my hut makes it easy to see the dust specks floating in and out of the slice of light. They disappear when they are not in the light’s path, like my skin-stars when they come across one of my scars. That shaft of light ends on the round of one of my Bea’s shoulders, and I find myself tracing the shape of it on her own skin.
Bea is still cleaning me. She wipes at my shoulder gently and slowly and I match her gentleness with my fingertips on her own skin, following the same path she takes on my own body. She wipes down my arm. I softly brush down hers. She slowly swipes the cloth up to my neck. I follow the curves of her throat.
Her skin pricks with little bumps wherever I touch. They are like a skin-star of sorts, following the paths of my fingertips as I’m sure my stars are doing to the journey of Bea’s cloth. But it is then that I cannot take it any longer. Those little bumps thatreact to my touch entice me closer, and I revel in the quiet gasp from Bea’s lips when I finally press my mouth to her neck.
I pull away, but not before licking the patch of skin-bumps just below her jaw. Her eyes dart between both of mine, the sighted and the unseeing. When she brings a hand to my face, I cannot help but lean into that touch.
“I almost lost you,” she murmurs down at me.
I shake my head and swallow. It is a most unwelcome thought - losing my Bea. I want to tell her that I will always be by her side, but this last day I had come so close to losing everything. Before I can even shape my mouth around any words of comfort for her, it is occupied in another way.
Bea swoops down to pluck little presses of her mouth to mine before she deepens them, sliding her arms around my neck to press herself closer.
What need have we for words, when she can talk to me like this? When I can feel her needs and fears through the way she clings, the way she pushes her tongue past the boundary of my lips. I groan into that hot little mouth of hers, and pull her even closer still, surrounding her with my arms, pressing her tightly to my front. I want Bea molded to me like a second skin. I want to be able to taste her, always. I want…so much.
Our meeting of mouths -the ‘keesing’- takes on the spirit of a sparring match. First she is the one hungry for victory, pushing and claiming, trading urgent heat as she devours me.
Suddenly, Bea pulls back, and I cannot help but chase those lips of hers, capturing them once, twice, before she pushes me away. “Your injury!” she gasps. “I’m meant to be taking care of you-”
I take her lips again. “You are,” I tell her between presses of our mouths. “You are taking care of mesowell.”
She shudders in my arms. “You’re hurt.”
“I will be more hurt if you deny me this, little Bea,” I tell her, nipping at her lips.
