I growl at myself for getting us back to that again, but know I completely deserve her bringing it up.
"That's enough of that. We need to move your Silver as soon as possible. Far too many tail-pulling teases. One more and I'm going to climb you straight up a tree, use my claws to take off that inconvenient suit and use my tail to punish you on your . . . Where would humans normally be punished?"
She sounds out of breath when she responds. "On my ass. You hit me with your tail on my ass."
Not what I would've expected.
Human parents must be especially harsh if they hit the area you should be comforting.
I shake my mane, focusing back on the important point I was trying to make. "Right. I will hit you on your rear with my tail."
I feel her squeeze her legs and grind into my back. After a few moments of silence, she speaks.
"What? That's it?"
Her voice sounds accusatory.
I purr, her impertinence and movements exciting me. "What else should I do?"
"I don't know," she draws out in a long moan of frustration.
"I just want you to touch me and for us to stop dancing around this. You're killing me, Thivoll!"
A thrill passes through me as I realize she wants me to decide.
Manticorid women are notoriously demanding and prescriptive in rut. The idea of flipping that role makes me want to tear the bark off the nearest tree in my haste and push myself between her legs.
The ones that keep right on squeezing me as she rolls her hips against my back.
Now I'm the one growling in frustration and it's not lost on me I was the one that led us here with my poking.
"Hold on tight. It's time we dealt with our responsibilities so I can wrap my tail around your neck and find out how you taste."
36
Ree
I dig my hands into his fur, thankful for my newfound strength as he springs forward.
I realize I forgot to pull back my hair when it cracks like a whip behind me. He's no longer running silently, and instead is moving us in great leaps.
After about fifteen minutes of heart stopping running and bounding over obstacles he stops abruptly, shifts me into his arms and rapidly ascends a tree.
For a moment, I'm hopeful he plans to do what he threatened, but he instead plops me on a thick branch again.
"Hunter," is all he says before he disappears.
"But— " I whisper before stopping myself.
Then I realize we never talked about how much I hate being left where I can't get down or help. I guess lust has completely hijacked my brain.
Considering how dangerous it is here, that seems like a great way to get killed.
I'm not even sure I can really fully blame the nanites, either. We keep putting our attraction off because of a sense of duty, but I think it's clouding our judgment.
That alone is a tremendous risk here. Or I'm just trying to justify taking time away from helping Silver to scratch an itch.
A very demanding, persistent, desperate itch.
