I put a hand to her chest in the same spot. “Liz.”
Her face goes crimson and she slaps my hand away. “Not the boobs!”
What did I just do wrong? I reach for her again, and she slaps my hand away once more. Her khui is thrumming, and I see her nipples hardening under the thin leather of the tunic. Ah. This arouses her? Unable to help myself, I brush my fingers over one of her nipples.
She emits a shriek and slaps me across the face. “No means no, dickface!” Then she gets up and storms away.
I reel, touching my cheek. Her little smack on my jaw didn’t hurt, but I’m more stunned that she struck me than anything.
She’s fierce, my Liz. I like that.
And if she thinks she’s going to scare me away with a slap on the cheek, she is very wrong. I grin to myself as she grabs the blankets and huffs away, deliberately turning her back to me. I can still hear her khui thrumming. It gives away how much she liked my touch — as does the scent of arousal on the air.
My mate’s arousal.
This must be more of the curious human mating rituals. Maybe that’s what newwwp means. I mentally repeat the word to myself so I can tell her the same thing at the appropriate time.
LIZ
Dumb, dumb Liz. Your communication skills need some serious work, I tell myself. I put my hand flat on his chest and said his name. He knew my name, though. He gritted it out between those big fangs when he stroked himself off.
I’m not getting hot thinking about that. I’m not. I’m not. I slap my chest to make sure my khui is listening.
So of course he put his hand on my tits. It’s the same spot, just on me. Except I forgot how sensitive my body is thanks to the cootie, and I nearly leapt out of my skin at his touch. I might have freaked a bit. Just a bit. Because one more touch after that nipple grab? I’d have been shucking my barbarian version of panties–
Oh wait, that’s right. I don’t have any.
I’m pantsless under the blankets, my half-finished skirt-now-pants still needing more stitches. My hand is desperate to press between my legs and relieve my need…except I know it won’t. And I don’t know what I’ll do if he grabs himself and starts stroking his ginormous cock again. I don’t trust my cootie-crazy self to not just, like, shimmy on up to him and start tonguing him everywhere and anywhere. Oh, is that your ear? My bad, it’s so sexy. That elbow, too. And dig those eyebrows. They’re just begging to be licked.
Actually I’m so horny that even the thought of a good eyebrow licking is making me wet. Then the word ‘horny’ makes it worse, because now I’m picturing his big horns and what it’d feel like if I licked those. Or, you know, straddled one and rubbed my girl parts on it for a bit.
Stop it, Liz! You suck!
I do suck. I sigh. I need a game plan. The longer I’m in this cave with no one but Raahosh and my cootie, the harder it is to deny the urgings my body is singing with. I need a plan of escape. I’m not sure where to go, but I know I can’t stay here. I mentally catalog the things I’ll need for survival. Food. Drink. Weapons. Shoes. Warm clothing. Shelter.
My dad and I used to go on hunting trips back in Oklahoma, back before he died. I know how to build a fire. I know not to drink the yellow snow. I’ve got clothing and these blankets will do just fine as wraps to keep the coldest winds out. I know how to hunt, so food can be had if I have a weapon. Shelter might be tricky but I can’t plan for that, really. I just have to hope for the best.
I’m really down to shoes and weapons. I can make shoes with leather from my pants and one of the blankets here – I just need to do it when Raahosh is out hunting so he won’t notice.
As for weapons…I could steal Raahosh’s spear, I suppose, but it’s huge and heavy, and my muscles are wimpy. I don’t know that I’d be effective with it. What I really need is a bow. If I had a bow, I’d be able to rock this survival shit. I’ve got mad skills with a bow and arrow.
So. Shoes first, then I can look for stuff to make a bow. Once I have a bow, I can get away out into the wild white yonder.
And do what? Not entirely sure, but it’s a plan. Sometimes all you can do is run with what you’ve got.
RAAHOSH
My mate’s too quiet.
Liz, who talks endlessly even though she knows I can’t understand her, Liz, who would talk to a stone if it had ears, Liz, who even talks in her sleep — is silent. She awoke from her nap with a cunning look in her glowing blue eyes, and watches me as I prepare to go hunting again.
I’m out for most of the day, getting food for my mate, and when I return, she’s still silent, but her mood is pleasant. She lets me feed her raw bits of food and doesn’t even push me away when I caress her cheek.