If I am distracted, I am no use to my brothers.
I release Mia. “You should return.”
She stiffens as though I have told her off. It is myself I am annoyed with. I forgot about my duty and played with the idea of having a mate, something I vowed never to have again. I swore if I took a woman, I would give her to the tribe.
And if I don’t, who will know? It was a promise I made to myself when I realized I would never be able to form any kind of attachment without questions being asked. I told myself I am meant to be alone, and I believed it. Because it was easy to believe when there was no chance of more.
Now I am not so sure.
Mia does up her pants and stands, grabbing the blanket around her. She takes a few steps before glancing at me. Because we are not touching, I don’t know what feelings are churning with in her, only that they are as I can see the turmoil in her eyes.
That instead of there being a smile on her lips, that wary look has returned.
I stand and adjust my meq, liking the way her gaze drops to watch. If I were to pull it free and stroke the aching flesh, would she watch like before, or want to touch it?
It is very tempting to find out. My hand lingers, my fingertips grazing the length again. Her tongue flicks over her lip. What would her tongue feel like on my skin? What would her mouth feel like around my meq?
Cum leaks from the tip, desperate to be spilled.
In that heartbeat, I would promise her the world if she were to offer. I long for the touch of another.
Mia steps back and her gaze snaps up. “I…”
I don’t want her asking because she feels obligated. I am not one of those human men who seeks only their own release. I am a Honey warrior.
“Go, I am supposed to be on watch.” I turn away to walk the perimeter. My blood isn’t burning. It is boiling. Even the rub of my clothes is too much.
As soon as I am away from the camp, I free my meq and grip it roughly. With the taste of her nectar on my tongue, it takes only a few strokes for me to spill. My cum shoots onto the tree and drips down as I suck in several deep breaths.
Pleasure rolls through me, stronger than last night and there is a calm that follows, soothing the edge in my blood. I feel like I did a few days ago, before the rut awakened. How long did it take to pass last time?
I can’t remember. I don’t want to remember.
There are scars on my thighs that I made during that time. The pain helping to distract me from the throb of my meq and the swelling of my sacks.
I sigh and hang my head, hoping that it won’t be as bad this time, but already my meq is firming in my hand, the ridge and bumps prominent and ready to give pleasure to my mate.
Without one, they are nothing but torture.
How my body can tell the difference between my hand and a woman I do not know.
I wait for the hunger to rise to the point of pain like it did last night, but instead it simmers as though content. That is not what I expected. It is not what happened last night when she watched me spill.
Something has changed and I’m not sure what—though I am glad of the relief.
I tuck my meq into my pants and do them up, then pause to look at my hand. The hand that pleasured Mia was the one I had wrapped around my cock.
If I sniff my fingers, will I smell her sweet scent?
For a few heartbeats, I can’t move as the solution to my unwelcome rut becomes clear and it doesn’t involve mating. It is not the act of mating that stabilizes the rut, but the woman’s mating fluid on a meq.
The need rises again, my meq fully hard as though unsatisfied. The reprieve was too short, but now I know the answer.
All I have to do is ask the question.
I close my eyes. A warrior does not beg.
Nor does he ask a woman if he may please her. She does the asking. I may be banished, but I have some honor left.
