When I shoot into an upright position, it startles Drasuk, and he rises with a hiss, which makes me tumble off him. So much for a relaxing morning using him as a giant pillow.
He is sniffing the air and swiveling around trying to figure out where the threat is.
"Sorry, it's alright. It isn't a hunter. I think I changed again."
He lets out a grumble. "Your communication is as deplorable as always."
"Back off, man. I was still half asleep, and I panicked."
I raise a shaking hand to the side of my neck. The skin is thicker than it should be, but the texture is different than my stomach. I keep sliding my hand around to the back, and then I feel the spikes.
They extend up and continue to the crown of my head, mixed in with my hair, which has grown quite a bit since my last haircut. A quick pass over my face and the front of my neck feels normal, but when I lift my arm so I can feel behind me, I can tell the nubs and spines continue downward.
I let out a puff of air. "Let me guess, I've got your blue spikes?"
"I can't tell from this angle."
Might as well get it over with. I stand up, pull the hair that has grown a couple feet so it lays over my chest, turn my back to him, and tell my suit to fully recede.
41
Drasuk
Even though she told me there wasn't a threat, I still can't stop my nervous scanning. I hadn't meant to go into my mid-level sleep, but something about her laying with me lulled me into it. Even I can admit it's been a long, exhausting string of events.
Usually there are plenty of other Maj'Ras to help share the responsibility, which is why once we are past proving ourselves, we rarely travel in groups fewer than four.
When she stands, grumbling out curses, it draws my gaze. Her suit recedes a moment later, and my body freezes as I stare.
She's beautiful.
Drakonid skin and spines cover her back and rise up into her pink hair. Her body tucks in at a small waist, then swells out again before transitioning back to her legs. My blue hide continues right up to the top of the globes of her rear, which are still her soft, brown skin.
Her hips are covered, though, and her new, far more protective hide covers the outsides of her upper legs down to the joint in the middle. My eyes dart back up to where the sand creature patterns blend with the blue.
Then they are right back to looking at her still very soft looking behind. The Maj'Ra in me would have preferred that was covered too, but the rest of me is very glad it isn't.
"Come on, Drasuk. You're killing me. What do you see?"
I tell her. Of course, leaving out my opinions about the soft globes. I also don't admit how much I want to squeeze them to see how they feel under my grip.
"Fornicate."
It takes me a blink to remember that it's a curse, not an invitation. I don't let myself dwell on my disappointment.
A question passes my lips before I can trample it. "May I touch you?"
I expect a quick rebuke and some sort of insult about my parentage, but instead her shoulders slump.
"Sure, why not?"
I take a slow step forward, unaccustomed to having an invitation to touch someone beyond teasing swipes, or the near-deadly blows of a skirmish. None of those included putting my hands on someone so fragile.
It feels different from the night before, when we were exhausted, and she had already lulled me into thinking it was acceptable to return her caresses. I hadn't thought about it beyond wanting to reciprocate how soothing her touch was for me.
Like nothing I had ever experienced.
There's a tremor in the pads of my outstretched limb when I open my opposing digits and slowly glide them along her back.
