I open my eyes, my vision swimming in the dark shadows of my high alcove. Far below us, the bright, harsh light of mid-sol washes across the distant cavern floor, but the glare cannot reach this high up the steep rock face. Up here, there is only protective gloom. The thick scent of salt, hot stone, and the sharp, staggering sweetness of storm-wind fills my lungs. And something small and soft is pinned beneath me on the furs.
I jerk my head up, my claws instantly snapping out into the hides beneath me.
Eh-ree-kah is staring at me. Her dark eyes are wide, her face flushed with heat, and her digits tangled tightly in my mane. A groan rumbles out of my chest at the sensation of it.
But then I recall the bone-breaking transformation. The pain. The terror of hurting her.
I freeze.
I shift my weight. My shoulders are wider. The muscle across my back is thick and dense. I push up on my claws, and the stone face feels brittle beneath them. I am larger. Harder. Denser.
And then, I feel something else.
Pressed flush against the soft, fragile heat of her body. Something hot.
Hot. Solid. Thick. And completely, ravenously hungry.
It pulses against her. In sync. Twitching.
Oh dust, thetwitching.
I grit my teeth hard enough to crack stone and slowly, carefully, push my upper body off her. My claws dig deep into the furs on either side of her head, bunching the thick hides into my fists.
When I look down, her skin is flushed dark with heat. Her thin hide-coverings have ridden up, exposing the soft, warm stretch of her belly and her chest rises and falls rapidly beneath me. The scent pouring off her is so thick and sweet that it hits my brain in a rush.
The twitching gets worse.
I clench my jaw. My claws shred through the furs.
I have seen images in the mindspace. Images of my warriors and their human females. Images of them joined together, the small soft bodies wrapped around the huge frames. Images that always made me wonder...and hope.
Eh-ree-kah’s breathing changes beneath me. Her lips part, her little pink tongue escaping to move over them.
The organjerksagainst her. Hard. Hungry. My hips roll forward without my permission, grinding the hot, swollen weight of it directly against the warm crease between her thighs. The exact place I had buried my face. The exact place my tongue had found her slick, tight, impossibly sweet heat and licked until she screamed and blessed me with her fluids.
A thick drop of slick falls from the tip, soaking into the thin hide-coverings separating us.
I stare at the darkening patch of moisture.
It is hydration. Water. A reckless waste of our most precious resource. From the moment we exit the Giving Stone, our bodies hoard every single drop of moisture to survive the dust. My body has never done this...wasting. I am leaking purely for her.
It is a complete violation of survival. It should horrify me.
But as the intoxicating scent of her floods my lungs again, another thick, glistening bead immediately forms at the tip.
Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to push inside her. To bury myself in that small, wet heat until she breaks apart around me.
The shaft twitches again.Hard.
My gaze finally drops further and I go completely still.
There’s something wrong.
I stare between our bodies.
Two.
The first is thick. Ridged. Far, far too large to fit inside the small, tight entrance my tongue had found between her thighs. It is flushed dark, thick veins pulsing visibly, dripping with slick.
