With nothing left to say, the meeting breaks up.
I stand, glad my shirt covers the jut of my meq. The hunger to mate with Bridget is clawing in my blood, but how can I ask her when she’s sore?
I will need to wait.
A Honey woman would be able to sense the building hunger and reach for me.
Orik smirks. I am sure he senses my need. And while he might offer release, the need will rise just as fierce because it’s the slickness of a woman that sates the hunger.
“Shall we start?” Bridget looks up at me as if she knows what I’ve been thinking. “I’m keen to look at the fibers. I mean, I’m no fiber expert, but since you don’t need anything engineered at the moment, I can at least try to make socks.”
“You have no idea how important socks are until you have none.” Orik says.
And I agree. I can sleep under the stars, but walking, or fighting, or hunting with nothing between my feet and my boots is a discomfort, and eventually blisters form that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
I’m going to add being in rut to that list, because it feels as though my meq is going to chafe on my pants all day. A bead of pre-cum rolls over my skin. Not even making rope fine enough for socks will be enough of a distraction.
20
BRIDGET
While I want to be part of picking a site to move to, the whole knitting, or in this case crocheting, socks or clothes was my idea, so now I need to see it through. It feels as though I have spent all morning bashing the soaked grass stems with a rock, while Vari and Orik work in silence to pull out the fibers.
And I do mean silence, not even a buzz between them. It’s unnerving.
“I think one of you should take over this part so I can learn how to pull out the fibers.” Despite soaking the stems overnight, they are still hard, protecting the fibers inside. And these are the softer stems, not suitable for net making.
I drop the rock and stretch my fingers, which makes them both regard me watchfully. So I wriggle my fingers at them. “If you don’t tell me what’s bugging you, I’ll zap you.”
From the expression on Vari’s face, that did not translate well. “I do not have any bugs.”
Orik frowns and glances at Vari. “Neither do I.”
I grit my teeth and stare up at the sky. “Look, I know you broke up because of me and mating related issues. But this tribe is too small for you to be weird. Not only that, it’s too small for you not to find happiness wherever you can.”
“Are you not happy?” Vari asks as though I’ve decided I’m done.
For a heartbeat, I consider telling him I’m not. “I like Orik.” I am attracted to his smile and the way we can talk so easily. “And I knew early on that he had someone that he cared for very much, and that if I chose him, then you were part of that. I would’ve chosen you both except you broke up with him and then I had to pick one of you.”
“You were supposed to choose Orik.” Vari puts down the fibers he’s pulled out.
Orik is working them into fine rope, rubbing the strands between his fingers and growing the coil that he is wrapping around a stick wedged between his thighs. He’s only understanding half the conversation.
I shake my head. “He didn’t want me to, and I respected his wishes, but now he is sad and you are grumpy and I don’t want that.”
“I’m grumpy because I’m harder than a sword—”
Orik laughs. “Enjoying the rut?”
Vari cuts Orik a glare. “Do I look as though I’m enjoying it? She got out of bed before I was awake.”
“I don’t know how Mia and Sabine did it, but I can’t ride your meq several times a day. You’re too big.”
“It’s not the fucking, it’s your slickness that eases the rut. That’s what Sunif claims,” Orik says.
“Oh.” Well, that opens things up.
He runs his fingers over the long fine fibers. “I’ve got enough fiber to keep me going, so please go ahead and not-fuck. I do not mind watching.”
