“Fuckoff,” she said.“How’s it work, exactly?Someone who’s been smacked like a dogall his life, grows up so quarrelsome?Thought your uncle would’ve beaten thatout of you.”
“Hetried,” Isaac said.“But he could only punish my words, not my thoughts.Nomatter what he did, I always had my mind.That was my refuge.I promised myselfthat my mind would always be free and wild.”He paused.“It’s not as rebelliousas I’m making it sound.”
“Not atall.To me, sounds like you kept your principles,despite everything you’d ever known trying to rob them away.”
“Essentially.”
“Ithink we’re very alike in that regard.”
Helistened to the fire crack and sizzle.
“Also,”Zaria said, “your tongue’s justperfectfor licking cunts.”
“Alright,that’s enough.”
“I’mbeing serious, now.You feel free to do so again.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Youdon’t gotta ask, even.Just the sight of you on your knees will send my heartaflutter.”
“I’mquite sure of that.”
“Thinkof how mad the sorceress’ll get.Think of all the fury she’ll spit from her grave,knowin’ that no one’s suckin’ her clunge like you are me.It’ll drive herreckless.She’ll make a blunder in her rage.Really, in the end, you licking meis a tactical decision.”
“Well,”he said, pretending to be impressed by her logic.“I suppose I have to, then.If it’s for the mission.”
“Aye.Dutiful, you are.Couldn’t ask for better.”
Hestared up into the craggy ceiling.He had a certain feeling in his chest,separate from the strain of her crushing weight.He could not identify what itwas.
It wasnot unpleasant.
“Thatgood enough for you?”she asked.
“Yes.I—um—” He cleared his throat.“Thank you.”
“Don’tthank a lass after fucking her, Isaac.”
“N-no,I mean—thank you for ...I’ve never had ...m-my uncle would always—”
“I knowwhat you mean.Just teasing.”
“Right,”he said, blushing.
“Oh,you’re cute.”
“Shutup.”
Shesettled her head against his chest.As the conversation drifted away, he becameaware of the thicker tufts of fur brushing against his stomach.Her legsmingled with his own.With his eyes, he traced the mohawk running down her neckand upper back, noting the difference in texture with the surrounding fur.
Hewanted to stroke it.
Hisfingers curled on the rough stone, daring to lift.
Hethought of her rejecting his touch.He thought of her shoving him off.Hethought of her standing up, moving away, and never looking at him again.
But hewanted to, and he dared to try.He settled his hands on her upper back—withone, he stroked through the long hairs on her neck, and with the other, hescratched around the fading wounds on her upper back, through the divots andtrenches of muscle.Her response was a quiet note of surprise.She shiftedherself, leaning into his touch.He kept his efforts gentle enough that theymight aid her in sleep.After a moment, she gave a long, blowing sigh, as if itwas the first time she had relaxed in quite a long time.
