“The thrill of the hunt is over.”
“So they hunt and claim and discard?”
“Something like that.” I’m trying to explain the colony dating situation to a guy who has never been on a date. Never slept with a woman until me. “Have you ever wanted to be with someone, so you pursued them until they agreed?”
“No. I simply ask, ‘Hey, Hrad, do you want to share my blanket?’ and he will either agree or not.”
That sounds very practical. Like what we did. “No, I mean like you desired someone and wanted to fuck them, not because you were feeling a bit horny and wanted more than your hand.”
He’s silent for a bit.
I glance over my shoulder.
His gaze is on my ass. “There was someone, and if I had not been fourth born, I would have liked her to choose me.”
He’s said something like that before. “If you weren’t fourth born, why couldn’t you choose her?”
“That is not how it’s done. There would be fights if the men did the choosing.”
“Huh. Do your women ever change their mind?” Because in the colony, the men choose and then move on. Well, not all of them. Some coupled up on the ship, and some have already broken up.
“No…though women sometimes leave if the warrior does something terrible.”
“And then what happens?”
“He will crave his mate and die in pain.”
“And she won’t?”
“No. It’s not a choice made in a day. Even if they didn’t grow up together, we would meet with other tribes for trade and there were regular visits. Relationships form long before the woman officially makes her choice, and the mating happens.”
Because of the danger to the man, no doubt it is done with much caution. “Do men ever choose not to mate?”
“Yes. Though if given the chance, most will not.” He sighs. “I did not.”
“You wish you had.” I turn to face him.
“I wish that I could say that…but I cannot, and it sits uneasily.” He brushes past me and takes my hand. “Your touch soothes my need.”
For a while we follow the trail hand in hand, and I can almost forget the weirdness and direness of our situation. By late afternoon, I’m stumbling from exhaustion.
“We should eat and rest. We will walk more when it’s dark,” he says, having found an area of the trail which he must deem suitable.
We’ve found no stream. My mouth is dry, and my stomach is a rock.
I sit, useless, as he makes the fire to cook the meat that he caught. I can tell his cock is hard from the ridge in his pants, but he hasn’t said anything. I run my tongue over my lower lip. “Would you be offended if I asked to suck your cock so I can have a drink?”
He glances up and I half expect him to snarl about how I don’t want him, and he doesn’t want survival sex or something. I get it. This isn’t ideal for either of us.
He stands and walks toward me. “I am disgusted with my own weakness and desire to agree, yet also envious that you have the option of drinking cum.”
“Will it make you thirstier?” I don’t want to if it’s going to hurt him. “Or hurt you?”
He shakes his head. “I want to feel your lips on my meq. I need you.”
He unlaces his pants, pulling out the thick, hard length. My pussy clenches, but it’s not getting anything. I rise up onto my knees and lick the head. It’s already slick and dripping pre-cum.
I look up at him. “You can ask me if it’s getting too much.”
