by Ruby Dixon
"T'chai," I whimper.
"I am going to touch your cunt, my Mari," he whispers in my ear.
I nod, frantic. I want that. God, how I want that.
He puts his glove on my pussy and parts my folds…and then I feel it.
I'm still dry. His glove rasps against my skin, sticking instead of gliding because I'm not wet with arousal.
I let out a whimper of sheer frustration and try to push his hand away. "It's not working—"
"Shhh," he comforts me, his arm locking around my waist in a hug. He pushes his face against my hair and his other hand cups my pussy, as if holding it can somehow wake it up. "Do not be upset, Mari."
"How can I not be upset?" Angry tears threaten behind my eyes, pricking.
"Because it felt good, did it not? You liked my words, yes? You liked my touches?" When I nod, he presses a kiss in my hair. "That is progress, then. We will take it in small steps if we must. If I cannot make you come, then let me hold you."
With a little sigh, I relax against him, frustrated. "I just…want things to be better."
He chuckles, and I love the fan of his breath against my hair, my skin. "It is not a bad thing to want. But do not let it pull you away from finding the good. I like touching you. I do not care if I must wear gloves. If it makes you feel good, then I will gladly do so."
"But I wanted more." I realize how petulant I sound, but I can't seem to help myself. I'm just so…disappointed. I let myself hope again, and it feels like the rug has been pulled out from under me once more.
"Do you have more of the herbs that F'rli gave you?"
"Ugh. No." I shake my head, blanching at the memory of the bitter taste. "They didn't work, either. Maybe my pussy will never get wet again."
He makes a sound of sympathy in my hair, his hand stroking my breast again and teasing at my nipple. My body still responds, sending an aching surge through me, and I whimper with frustration.
"If your cunt is not wet, what if I am?" T'chai asks.
"What do you mean?"
"What if I wet my glove? And then I rub you?" He presses another kiss in my hair. "Would that make you uncomfortable?"
Lube.
Of course. Dios mio, I'm such an idiot. There's got to be something we can use for lube around here. Lube is such a smart answer—it's made for situations like this. Don't older women have issues with dryness and have to use stuff like that? I've never had a problem getting aroused in the past, but maybe that's been working against me. I've assumed my body will always respond the way it has, instead of working with what I've got. I head for the little jars I have neatly arranged on a low driftwood shelf in the corner. Nadine gave me some lotion for dry skin the other day…I pull the little pot out with triumph. It doesn't have any scent in it because the one she had made me sneeze, so she had a bit put aside without anything in it. The lotion is a bit of animal fat and some plant stuff, but I don't care.
If it greases me up, that's all I need.
I return to T'chai's arms and press the small pot into his hands. "This. Use this."
He sniffs the small pot as I settle into his arms again, and then digs a finger into the lotion, coating his glove with a liberal amount. I want to protest that he's using too much, that stuff like that isn't easy to make and represents hours of work. But then he rubs his mouth against my hair and tosses the pot aside, and his hand is between my thighs again.
I hold my breath, spreading my legs wider. My eyes are squeezed shut, because I'm afraid that this won't do the trick, either. It won't feel good enough to give me the release that I need— and I suspect he needs, too. Everything in me tenses as he eases a finger along my folds, and then pauses. "I do not know how to touch you here. What do you like?"
I want to give him the trite old line of “I like all of it, everything is good,” but in this case, it's about making me come, not about easing his worries. So I take his gloved hand in mine and show him my clit. "I usually rub this to come," I tell him. "The sides of it. And I put a finger inside me, too."
He studies his glove. "No fingers inside you with this on, I think."
"Just touch my clit," I reassure him. "If I can come, that will do the trick." I hope. God, I hope.
I shift uneasily as he begins to touch me, looking for just the right reaction. His fingers glide over my clit, slippery with lotion, and I let out a pent-up breath because that feels…good. I relax a little, easing back against him, enjoying the stroking of his glove against my most sensitive parts.
To my surprise, T'chai lightly taps his finger against my clit. I jerk, surprised at the sensation that rockets through me. "Oh."
"Should I stop?"
I shake my head. "N-no." I squirm against his legs, digging my fingers into his leathers as he rubs my clit with small, tight strokes, finding a pattern that makes my breathing erratic and my body restless. I rock against his hand, helpless to do anything but follow the sensations. I need this. I need this. I need this.
T'chai leans in so close, his breath whispering against my ear. "You are wet now. So wet and slippery. Is this good? Or should I stop?"
I let out a low cry and put my hand over his, silent encouragement that he should keep going.
He rumbles with pleasure, his glove moving faster as it glides over my now slick pussy. I grind against his movements, panting, needy, chasing the build of an orgasm. I can feel it, just teetering at the edge of things, but it doesn't come right away. The more he touches me, the more it feels as if it keeps building, but nothing is happening. I'm just needy and full of yearning and I can't get there.
My frustration mounts, and I'm about to give up when T'chai's teeth graze my ear. "Look at how beautiful you are, my perfect mate. Listen to the wet sounds your cunt makes for my hand. You please me so much, my Mari." And he nips at the shell of my ear.
It's that small bite—and his words—that wring out the smallest, most hard-fought orgasm ever. It's not pretty or graceful or perfect, but it's mine and it's the first one I've had in a long, long time, and I wheeze as I clench and shudder with my body's response. It feels brutal as it courses through me, as if my body's protesting this response, but when everything finally unclenches, I feel drained. Relaxed.
Satisfied. Finally.
I feel like I've accomplished something again, as silly as that sounds. Like I've regained a piece of me that was missing.
T'chai nuzzles at my hair. "I am so proud of you."
It's ridiculous. I know it's ridiculous, but for some reason, his words fill me with emotion, and a sob chokes from my throat.
"Shhh. I have you." T'chai wraps his arms around me, holding me in a bear hug against his chest. "You did very well, my mate. You have nothing to be upset over."
I just keep crying, holding onto his arms. I don't even care that my cootie is sending skitters of wrongwrongwrong through me, like his scent is a bit too much, his touch a little too possessive. This is a release, and one I didn't realize I needed so badly until now. So I cry, getting out all of the pent-up emotion out of my system, until my tears are spent and I'm hiccupping and exhausted, curled in his arms. And T'chai—the world's most patient male—just holds me and supports me.
We can make this work. We can. If we have to use gloves and creativity, we'll do it. Whatever it takes, we can still be a team. That makes me happy. So happy. A weight feels as if it's lifting off my shoulders, and I press a kiss to T'chai's arm. "Thank you."
"It was my pleasure." He nuzzles at my hair again, all touchy-feely, and I realize I'm still resting against his very erect cock as it presses against my back.
For the first time in a very long time, I actually want to touch him back. I don't mind the caresses, the snuggles, any of it. I feel good, and loose, and I want to do the same for him. So I tug at his glove, and when I pull it off his hand, I put it on mine.
He chuckles at the size of it, dwarfing my hand. "I think you need one more your size."
"This one will do just fine for what I want," I say lightly,
and get to my knees. I turn around so I'm facing him, and as I do, I get the pot of lotion and add a generous smear onto the palm of the glove, greasing it up. T'chai watches me with hungry, fascinated eyes as I reach for the laces on his leggings with my free hand.
"You want to…" he asks.
"Yes." I tug his leggings down, exposing the hard length of him. He's a fascinating deeper blue here, his cock flushed with his arousal. The ridges on his length are coated with pre-cum that's dribbled down from the thick head, and he's so erect the slightest movement makes his entire length twitch in response. I consider toying with his spur before moving on to the main event, but if he's anything like, oh, every other man in the universe, he doesn't care about foreplay. He just wants my hand on his dick. So I take the glove and wrap my slick hand around his length and smile at him. "Your turn."
His eyelids flutter as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing, but the moment my hand is on him, nothing else matters. I love the shudder of his breath and the way he reaches for me, as if he needs to touch me even as I pleasure him. I run the glove up and down his ribbed shaft, greasing it up before I start a quick, rough rhythm designed to get him off. His hands curl against my shoulders, and I don't care that he's touching me without a glove. It's not about me right now, it's about him. I'm fascinated with watching his face as I work his cock, the play of emotions that moves over him, the blatant hunger in his expression, the way his jaw tightens as he gets close.
T'chai looks up at me as he comes, his seed hot as it spatters on my lower arms and across my skin. Even though I'm working him with a glove, this feels like the most intimate moment we've ever had, and when he gives me a shy, almost hesitant smile, my heart melts all over again.
I love him, and I love this. If this is what we're meant to have, I'll take it.
17
T'CHAI
No male has ever woken up in a better mood than me. I smile into the cold air, not caring that my breath puffs into a frozen cloud, even inside our hut. At my side, Mari is draped over my chest, her mouth slightly open in her sleep as she drools a puddle onto my tunic. We pleasured each other last night. The thought fills me with joy, and I cannot stop smiling. We pleasured each other, and then we dressed and I put new gloves on, and we held each other and talked until it was late. She slept at my side, and I do not care that I slept with layers covering every bit of my skin. I slept with my mate, and she did not pull away, and that is all that matters.
I roll onto my side and wrap myself around her, tucking her close for just a bit longer. Mari yawns and twitches against me, then rolls onto her back, smacking her lips. "Bring me back some food?"
"Are you sleeping in?"
"Mmm." She pushes her face a little deeper into the blankets and I envy them. I want to be the one she buries herself against. But I can bring her food, at least.
I touch her one last time, not minding that I am wearing gloves to do so, rubbing her hips and bottom until she smiles in her sleep. Once I see that, I reluctantly pull myself from the furs and build a small fire so it will not be cold when she emerges from our nest. I think of last night, my heart filled with warmth, and realize there is much to do today. I must talk to A'tar about flying us to the village when he takes T'ia there. I must let R'jaal know Mari and I will be leaving, and that I do not know when we will return.
And I must pack our things for our trip. My mate will need furs and food supplies, a weapon, new boots, and we will both need more gloves. Lots and lots of gloves.
I pull on my layers of clothing, fumbling with the ties on my boots before giving up and leaving them behind. I do not want to wake my mate just to adjust the ties for me; I will just have cold feet this morning. I head out of the hut and the cold air hits my face like a slap. My feet are cold, but it is not so bad. I jog over the sand, ignoring the chill as I head for the fire. Bek is there with his mate, feeding her bits of something as she leans against his shoulder. Buh-brukh and H'rlow are at the fire with S'teph, making root and meat cakes for everyone. It still amazes me that to feed my mate, all I must do is come to the fire and food will be provided. R'hosh has explained to me before that some of the females do not enjoy hunting, and everyone must do their share, so they cook or spend time around the fire sewing or working on skins. The females like Leezh and N'deen do not cook because they hunt. I know my Mari has done a bit of both, and I wonder if she enjoys hunting. Maybe we will hunt together at the new village.
I like that thought.
I eat three of the cakes by the fire, listening to the females talk about something they miss from home called a star-buck. There is hot shrimp tea, but I do not enjoy it like the females do. I eat one more cake when it is offered to me—never pass up on food—and then ask for a meal for my mate. S'teph puts a few steaming cakes into a woven bowl for me, and I jog back to the hut. Mari is still asleep, so I get my heavy log and head for the shore to get my strength-building in. My hand feels tight after last night, my smallest finger tingling and weak, so I work on stretches and closing my hand around a fist-sized rock between rounds. It is a cold, blustery morning, and there is no sign of the twin suns. They are hidden by clouds, and the air carries hints of ice in the breeze.
Yet…I am still happy. It is a good day, for all that the weather frowns down on us.
"Ho," a familiar voice calls as I heft the large chunk of wood over my head in repetitive motions. I turn, holding it high, and see A'tar, dressed in nothing more than a pair of leggings. His feet are bare, too, but I suspect it is because the cold does not bother him, just like the sa-khui. He grins at the sight of me, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth. "You are looking stronger. My mate will be very pleased you are so healthy. She takes it as personal pride when the tribe thrives."
I lower the chunk of wood to the ground, then heft it up to my shoulder and over my head once more. "The wood feels lighter every day. Soon I will need a larger piece."
A'tar laughs. "Just lift your mate instead."
Not a bad idea. "It is good that you are here this morning. I must speak with you." When A'tar crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head, listening, I continue. "My mate wants to go with you when you take T'ia to the other village. And of course, I will go with her."
"You do?" His eyes narrow.
"Yes. I know your mate has done everything she can for my Mari, but her khui is still silent, and it distresses her. She wishes to speak to the other healer and see if she has ideas." When A'tar's mouth flattens, I realize how it must sound. "Your V'ronca saved my life and we are grateful. I hope you do not see this as an insult to her. It is not meant as that."
He nods slowly, expression thoughtful as he gazes out at the rolling waves. "I understand. My mate has said before that the other healer is stronger than her…but I think she will still be wounded. She hates that she cannot be more help to your female. Perhaps this will be good for both of them." He shrugs. "I will say no unless my mate agrees, of course."
I grunt. His answer irritates me, but I understand it. One of A'tar's duties for the tribe is to fly. If I went fishing and my mate did not want me to take O'jek with me, I would not, because I value how she feels.
Even so, I will not let this stop us. If V'ronca tries to stop us from going, we will travel by foot through the blizzard-coated passes if that is what it takes. Nothing matters except trying everything we can to make Mari happy.
"Veronica will want what is best for your mate, of course." He gets a distant expression on his face. "She says she is fine with it."
I frown at him. "We have not asked her yet."
"Of course." He gives me another toothy grin. "Do you wish to talk to her? She is awake now."
I return my wood block to just outside my hut and then follow the larger male as he heads for the tent he shares with his mate. They are at the top of the sloped encampment, near the cliffs that lead toward the snowy valleys. They have not chosen to make a hut yet, but the tent they share is large and spacious, with an ante-chamber set up for th
e healer to do her work and still have a private area to herself. I know, because I spent many weeks in that first chamber when I first arrived here, weak and puking, as my body worked to pull itself together again. Those days were bad…but Mari was there the whole time, and so I do not look at them with sadness.
As if she can hear her mate's thoughts, V'ronca emerges from her tent as we approach. She wears a pale leather tunic this day, belted under her teats, and the rounded bulge of her belly is prominent. I pause, surprised, because I do not remember his mate being so very…pregnant. Many of the females on this beach are now carrying kits thanks to resonance, but none are quite as large as V'ronca. Even L'ren is still very flat in the stomach. Bek's mate E'lly has a rounded stomach, but she has been carrying for a while.
A'tar notices my confusion and laughs, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "My kind do not carry for nearly as long as your kind. My sweet Veronica will be on our third child before the first islander's child is born." He sounds so proud.
"Uh, excuse me?" V'ronca calls with a laugh. "Who says I want to shoot out three dragon babies in a freaking row? Can we start with one first, please?" She rubs her stomach and gives me a friendly smile. "Good to see you this morning, T'chai. How are you feeling?"
Her mate moves to her side, putting a possessive hand on her neck as he touches her belly. She slides a little closer to him.
"I am well," I say, flexing my bad hand. "Some tingling, but stronger every day."
V'ronca puts her hand out. "Can I see?"
"It is nothing. I came to speak of my mate, actually." She keeps her hand out and reluctantly I hold mine out so she can check it as I speak. "She wishes to go visit the other village and talk to the healer there."
"I understand." She closes her eyes for a brief moment and then smiles. "Everything is healing nicely. Just don't overdo it." Her expression turns playful. "I gave your khui a little bit of a nudge anyhow. Let me know if your hand feels worse."
