She looks up at me, the rims of her eyes a little red. “There’s more?”
“This one is not important,” I tell her as I find the item. “Not like a knife or clothing. But I had these, and I thought of you.” I hold out the necklace I’ve made of small sea shells, shimmering in green. “These are rare to find. I’ve been collecting them since I was a boy.”
“For me?” she asks, sniffling. “It’s beautiful!”
I place the necklace around her slender neck and tie it closed in the back, then straighten it so it lies right on her delicate skin. “Not like you.”
“Thank you,” she says again. “I wish I had something to give to you.”
“You being here is finer than anything I could make,” I tell her sincerely.
Her lips find mine then, soft and urgent, and the sweetness of her taste ignites me all over again. I lift her easily, carrying her the few steps to the low sleeping mat. The ocean laps steadily beneath the stilts, a rhythmic pulse that matches the blood roaring in my ears.
I set her down gently, but she turns in my arms, pressing her back to my chest. “Like this,” she whispers, voice thick with want. “From behind. I want to feel you deep.”
The request sends heat straight to my cores. I have never had her this way, never seen her offered so openly. My larger cock throbs, already leaking, while the smaller one curves eagerly upward. I guide her to her hands and knees, palms flat on the woven mat, knees spread. The sight of her like this, back arched, behind raised, the green shells glinting against her skin… it makes the world spin.
I kneel behind her, one hand smoothing down her spine, the other gripping her hip. My larger shaft nudges her entrance, slick from earlier play and her fresh arousal. The first push is careful. She is tight at this angle, and I feel every flutter as the ridged head breaches her. She moans, low and broken, pushing back to take more.
I sink in slowly, inch by thick inch, until my hips meet her rear, and the smaller cock nestles snug against her clit, its soft tip already stroking with the slightest rock of my body. The position lets me go deeper than before, deeper than she has ever taken me, and the way her walls clutch around my ridges makes my vision spark.
“Callie…” Her name is a growl as I draw back, then thrust again, harder. She cries out, fingers curling into the mat. I find a rhythm—long, powerful strokes that slap wetly between us, each one grinding the smaller cock firmly over her swollen bud.
She trembles, gasps my name, arches higher. I lean over her, chest to her back, one arm banding her waist to hold her steady as I drive faster. The angle shifts; the ridges catch perfectly inside her, dragging pleasure from her with every retreat. Her body tightens and flutters, then clamps down hard as she comes with a sharp, keening cry. Her inner walls pulsate so fiercely I can barely move.
The sensation shatters my control. I bury myself to the hilt, hips jerking, and release in thick, hot spurts that fill her completely. My smaller cock twitches against her clit through the aftershocks, drawing soft whimpers from her until we both collapse, still joined, breathing ragged in the salt-scented dark of our hut.
“I love you,” I groan, and never have I spoken truer words.
- - -
Callie’s head lies on my chest, and her scent is in my nose. I’ve never been more in the right place than this. The happiness is so strong I wonder how long I can take it.
She stirs. “Crat'ax. I want to ask again.”
“Mm?”
“The platform that has no hut on. It looks like a cage. What’s inside?”
Deep damn it! I was hoping she wouldn’t ask about that again. What did I tell her last time? “It has to do with worship of the Deep,” I tell her. Well, it’s a half-truth. “The old men know about it. I don’t. They’re closer to joining the Deep than we are, and so they care deeply about proper worship. I think we could do without it.”
“Something is moving inside it.”
I really don’t want to talk about this. “Mm. Probably they caught anolper. It’s said to be holy. Callie, what shall I tell Carter’ez to fix about your garment? In detail?”
It takes her a moment to reply, as if she has to make an effort to let go of the other topic. Damn that we ended up with that cage!
“I think I should show him,” she finally says. “So he can see exactly what I need.”
16
- Callie-
The morning sun turns the ocean into finely hammered silver. The waves are small and cluck cheerfully against the hull of Crat'ax’s boat as we make our way out on the open ocean. Small drops of cool water sometimes hit my arms, adding to the fresh feeling.
Crat'ax sits behind me and paddles with slow, powerful strokes. His feet sometimes touch my calves, either accidentally or on purpose. I don’t pull back from those touches.
The air is fresh, and the breeze barely ruffles my hair. I get a strange sense of freedom and openness out here. It’s a very different morning from in the saucer, where we’d sometimes spend the whole day inside with the hatch closed if one of us heard a suspicious noise. And there were many suspicious noises in the jungle.
