Barbarian Lover(12)

She grimaces at the taste, but takes a second swig. “It’s awful.”

“Drink more. It will start to taste better.”

She takes another healthy mouthful and then coughs, wiping at her mouth. “I think you’re lying.”

“Perhaps a slight exaggeration,” I say, and when she tries to offer it back to me, I decline. “Keep it. You need a bit of alcoholing.”

“Inebriating,” she corrects.

“Your language is confusing,” I tell her, and dab my finger into the small red paint pot. “Your words are nonsense much of the time.”

“You’re not wrong. We should probably learn your language. Go back to the mothership and get the brain dump Georgie mentioned.”

By ‘mothership’ I assume she means the elders’ cave, which the humans swear is another ship that our ancestors landed from. They might not be wrong, but it’s still odd for me to think of it as a ship. As she drinks again, her gaze strays to the group of dancers in the center of the cave. A few of the newly mated human women are with their men, dancing around the heated pool and having a wonderful time. Nearby, others lounge. My friend Zolaya is being fed tidbits by his doting mate.

“They all look so happy,” Kira says in a soft voice. “I should be glad for them, shouldn’t I?”

The fermented tea must be working quickly on her; she’s actually speaking to me of her own accord. I look over at the others. “Should they not be happy?”

“No, they should.” She looks over at me with those sad, sad eyes again. “It’s me that’s the problem.”

I drag my paint-tipped finger down her small nose, creating a stripe. “Because you are not happy that they are happy?”

Her eyes cross and she peers at the stripe. “Why are you painting me?”

“It’s custom when we celebrate. We show our joy with color.”

The sad look enters her eyes again. “Then maybe you should save your paint for someone else.”

“Nonsense.” I dab a bit on her chin, and then make two colorful streaks on her delicate cheekbones. She’s silent as I do, watching me. I want to say flirty things to her, to bring a smile to her small face, but she just looks so forlorn that any jokes I make will seem foolish. I finish with her face, study my art, and then dab my finger into the paint pot again and begin to draw lines on the delicate cords of her neck. Her skin feels so soft under my touch that it makes my cock ache instantly. “You bring me joy. Does that not count?”

Instead of the eye-roll I expect, she just looks even sadder. “You should give up on me, Aehako. Spend your attentions on a girl where you might go somewhere with her.”

“Go…somewhere?” This is another baffling human phrase. We have the words, but the way these humans use them does not make sense.

Kira just sighs and tries to look away.

I catch her chin before she can. “I found out what a kiss is,” I tell her, pleased with myself. This will distract Kira and bring the sadness from her eyes. I expect her to flinch away, to pull back and chide me for flirting with her again.

Instead, her gaze goes to my mouth. Her lips part slightly and she leans in. “Oh?”

I know an invitation when I see one. I lean in and brush my mouth against hers. I’m uncertain about the details of kissing but I’m sure I can figure it out. If it’s anything like licking a cunt, I’ll just watch for her cues.

Kira’s lips are soft and pliant, and my mind automatically imagines them on my skin. My cock feels like rock inside my breeches. She presses her small lips to mine, and I pause, uncertain where to take this. Vektal always looks as if he’s devouring his woman.

But then Kira’s tongue brushes against the seam of my mouth, and I part to let her in. She’s taking the lead on the kiss and I’m fascinated – and aroused. Her hands curl in the front of my tunic and I pull her against me, feeling how fragile the human is compared to my stocky, muscular body. She has no horns, no plated ridges to protect her soft parts, and her vulnerability frightens me.

Then her tongue touches mine and I forget all about her fragility. Lust roars through me, and I tentatively flick my tongue against hers. She tastes like the fermented tea, a sweeter, more delicious version. And her tongue is smooth and slick, unlike mine that has the textured ridges that all sa-khui do. She realizes this and a soft sound of surprise passes from her mouth.

But she doesn’t pull away. Her hand goes to my cheek and she caresses my jaw, and we continue to kiss. My mouth slants over hers, and I tongue her back, mimicking the motions she began with. When she doesn’t stop, I continue, my flicks stronger and bolder, questing. Over and over, I fuck her with my tongue. This, I realize, is what the appeal is to humans. This is a tease with mouths, a promise of what a mating will be like. It feels incredibly deviant.