by Jade White
“I know,” Kristen said. She had confessed as much about her fears in the past few days. Her and Rodney hadn’t slept together yet, and she suspected it had as much to do with both of their nervous natures as it did with her own subconscious reasons for stalling.
“You never expected this, did you?” Gloria asked wistfully.
“Expected what?” Kristen replied, innocently enough.
Gloria wrinkled her pug-nose and didn’t respond. “You are such a ditz, sometimes,” she mused to herself. “Sometimes you’re the smartest person I know, but when it comes to matters of the heart, you’re as clueless as this cucumber.”
“What does this have to do with the heart?” Kristen asked brashly, and it came out harsher than she had intended. She’s seen through me, she thought. What other reason could there have been for her stalling having intercourse with Rodney. She blushed, thinking about it. “Rodney is a really nice guy… I just want to take it slow. To get to know each other – you don’t think it’s important to get to know the father of my child-to-be?”
“I think it is,” Gloria licked a spoon, but her voice was bored, “but it’s not like you’re marrying him. This is a sanctioned coupling. Maybe that sounds informal and cold, but there it is.”
It did sound informal. Like there was no joy attached to the actual process. Kristen had always had a complicated relationship with sex. Sure, she’d had a few boyfriends here and there, but nothing that had ever really equated with a strong lasting relationship. She preferred the company of her female companions more. And, quite frankly, most of the males that had been available to her had been selfish, shallow, pig-headed brutes anyway.
But not Rodney, she thought. He deserved more respect than that – that’s why she’d been taking it slow, she wanted to convince herself. “You’re right,” she finally conceded, and Gloria turned with a surprised look. It wasn’t often that Kristen submitted to Gloria’s perspective so easily, even if deep down she knew it to be true. “You’re right, in that this is a coupling, a sanctioned Enclave event. And there is a formality to it. But I think Rodney has every right to get to know me. But it’s more than that… you were right when I said I was scared. I still am. I think I’ll always be a little scared, and maybe that’s a good thing, it keeps you alert, awake.”
Gloria looked like she had something else to say, but dropped it. She shook the vegetables in the strainer and rubbed her eyes. “In that case, when can I expect to be an aunt… if ever?” she joked.
***
Gloria’s off-color humor followed Kristen, even when she left that night on one of her rendezvous to meet Rodney. The two had become more or less boyfriend and girlfriend, even though she had done her best to try and keep the relationship as professional as possible. But when she’d realized how impossible it was to keep something as intimate as conceiving a child as professional, she had begrudgingly let him hold her hand, or put an arm around her waist, and even kiss her occasionally in public.
Tonight, her stomach was a knot, though. She realized that Gloria’s comment had brought full circle the fact that she was here for a reason. She had let herself be consumed and seduced by the idea of having a proper and normal relationship, but she was a Shifter. How could she ever expect to live a normal life? Absently, she wondered if her desire to have a child wasn’t tied to that dream of normalcy, of reclaiming some sort of domestic simplicity in her life that eluded most others in her Tribe.
Rodney seemed to sense her discomfort when they met at the Outer Clove, a small nook of a restaurant off the main street that had angular walls and colorful paintings by locals pinned to them. A soft vibrato music, Spanish fado, issued through speakers, more like an afterthought than anything perceivable. The lights were low, and the candles on the table between them flickered.
He reached out and touched her hand. He had let the bristles on his cheeks fill in again, and his hair crept across his face like the narrow sharpened claws of some black beast. His eyes were stern, and it frightened Kristen to stare into them directly.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve seemed… distant, recently. Was it… was it something I’ve done?” he asked, coming straight to the point. His voice was as soft as the wavering flame of the candle, and she tried to swallow past her confusion.
“I don’t know, Rodney. I’m just…” she wondered how to phrase her feelings without hurting him, “the truth is, this is just so strange for me. I always thought I would raise my child alone. It is the way it’s been done in the Enclave for centuries. Every one of the women helps in raising the child. But…”
“I know all about that,” he said, trying to put her fears to rest, “I think… I think it’s a great way for a kid to grow up, quite frankly.”
“Then... then you’re okay with not being… a part of that?” she asked, trying not to sound incredulous. She couldn’t imagine being in his place, the idea of not being there to raise something that was, in fact, part her was unthinkable.
Rodney leaned back. “It’s complicated, yes. And if it were anyone else, I think I would probably say no… but when I read about you, and then meeting you, spending time with you, I just want to help you. I know that makes me sound selfless, but I’m not. Maybe, in my own twisted way, I feel like if I can help you, then somehow I will be helping my sister. And I can tell… you would be a great mother, Kristen.”
She blushed again. “How are you so understanding?”
He shrugged. “Just lucky I guess,” he said.
By time they’d finished their dinner, they had both gone back to their usual selves, and when he offered her a cup of coffee at his home she didn’t bat an eye. It wasn’t until they’d pulled up next to his house, which was on the shore near the industrial part of town, just off the railroads, that she realized she hadn’t actually been in his home yet.
His house was quaint, and it looked as if he’d built it himself. The two story cabin was far enough away from the city that it avoided the noise-pollution, and she saw that a small jetty had been built with a quay that wandered out into the black waters. The lights from the suspension bridge downstream flickered on the surface.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, leading her to the front door. The interior was cozy and full of mementos. It was definitely a bachelor’s house, but there was maturity to the décor and furniture that she could appreciate. “It’s not much to look at, but it’s definitely my little sanctuary. Unlike the Enclave, Shifters around here a bit scarce; we tend to live by ourselves.”
“You mean, there’s no other Shifters in Nelson?” she said surprised. She had taken it for granted, coming from a big city like Seattle, that there were others, maybe not Tigers, but certainly Wolves, or Bears, or even Foxes.
“Nope,” he said, “Although there’s a small band of Lynxes about sixty clicks away. But in Nelson, as far as I know, I’m the only one. So you can see, I tend to live a solitary life. Well, almost. Just me and Nancy.”
“Wh-who’s Nancy?” Kristen said, and hugged her bare arms.
The plain single-piece green dress she had chosen for the night seemed suddenly too small, and she felt a bit vulnerable and exposed in it, despite the fact she couldn’t imagine any other man she would have felt as comfortable around as Rodney.
Rodney laughed, and made an effort to look under the kitchen table, where he pulled out a calico tabby, who merely let out a remorseful and lazy meow as it was held up for inspection. Kristen let out a relieved sigh.
“We’ve been together for almost five years,” Rodney joked, “and she’s a bit jealous and temperamental. We’re thinking of going to counseling.”
Kristen smiled at his bad joke and sat down on the couch, pulling her legs up under her as she got comfortable. Rodney set the cat down, and it made a tight-eyed grumble and loped off back under the darkness of the kitchen table, while Kristen resisted the urge to chortle at the small animal’s malignity. Meanwhile, Rodney went about preparing the coffee maker, and caught her watchin
g him.
“Are you scrutinizing my coffee-making skills? I don’t think that was in the profile they gave you. Consider it a bonus genetic trait,” he offered.
“No, I’m just watching you,” she said, and tilted her head against her open palm. “Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to reply if you don’t want to.”
“Optional question? Ah, those aren’t any fun.”
“I can make it an obligatory question,” Kristen poked, squinting at him.
“There you go!” Rodney said, his deep voice seeming to catch in the pocketed steel of the pans and pots that were hanging on an iron chandelier above him. There was a gruffness to his speech which only occasionally peeked through, as if he truly was leading a double-life.
It must be more difficult for him than it was for me, she thought. At least in the Enclave she had had many other sisters, all who were like her and could empathize with the many quandaries of trying to fit into a human world. But Rodney had always been alone, the only one of his kind. She tried to imagine the sort of mentality you’d have to cultivate in order to survive that kind of solitude.
“How…” she shook her head and began again, “…what I mean is, what was it like, for you? To be a Tiger, but the only one here? Weren’t you lonely?”
For a moment she wondered if he had heard her, because he didn’t respond. Only the tamping of the coffee, the sound of water dripping through the filter, and the flicking of the switch on the machine could be heard. She didn’t dare ask it again, and lowered her gaze to the small table in front of the couch, which was littered with old National Geographic magazines.
“Loneliness is like anything,” he said, as if testing out how the words sounded in his mouth. “You get used to it after a time, and then… one day, you can’t imagine feeling any other way. That probably sounds pretty pathetic, but… you do what you have to do to survive.”
“And how did you?”
He turned at last, and flashed a smile but her keen reporter’s sense kicked in, and she realized it was false. He was trying to conceal some emotional hurdle, but hadn’t quite made it. “I guess, in a way, I kind of learned to live two lives. I have my human life, the Rodney who is a paramedic and lives in Nelson and enjoys canoeing and the company of misanthropic house cats,” he grinned, “and the other me, the Tiger. But he doesn’t really get the opportunity to stretch his legs very often.”
Kristen saw that he’d unbuttoned the top of his shirt, and a saw the small curling traces of chest hair. She gulped, and pulled her legs further up under her, but it only succeeded in pulling the fabric of the dress further up her legs.
“And… and what side of you have I been getting to know?” Kristen asked, and stiffened as he approached and sat down next to her, one of his arms settling on the back of the couch.
She breathed in again, and found his scent, warm and familiar and wooded, and it reminded her of the first time they’d gone on a date. The fresh sugary smell of leaves, the darker notes of moss and granite underfoot.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. His eyes fell across her small supple form, noting every angle that the tight dress hugged into perfection. She gulped again, feeling the air between them grow with a sort of static anticipation. “I… I want you to know me. Not just the part of me everyone else sees.”
Kristen’s heart was beating faster now, and it pounded against her ribs. Unconsciously, she drew her hand to her breast and tried to slow it, but to no avail. She felt a latent desire begin to ebb and flow inside her and opened her mouth. “I think I’m beginning to,” she said, and touched his hand.
Another silence hung, suspended on a word. The sound of the coffee machine began to burble, steam issued from the top. Rodney dropped his eyes and made to attend to it, but as he lifted himself from the couch Kristen reached out and tugged at his wrist.
“Don’t go,” she said, barely a whisper.
CHAPTER THREE
Gently, she pulled him back down to her, and Rodney kissed her. Kristen felt the couch press up against her back as she was flattened into it and brought her own hand up to caress his cheek. He was a passionate kisser, and she closed her eyes and let him have her, relishing the feel of his lips brush against hers, working in a kind of rhythmic pulse.
“Rodney,” she murmured, pulling away, but he continued to kiss her, moving down her neck and nibbling at the almost translucent skin. She let out a little moan of surprise and wrapped her fingers into his hair as he worked with infinite care, touching every part of her with his lips. He went across her shoulder blade, and she felt the strap of her dress tumble down her arm. “Rodney,” she repeated, this time it was like a coo.
“Is this… okay?” he whispered back. His hand had found her waist and was resting on the parabola of her hip. “I can go… slower. I’m sorry, I-”
“Kiss me again,” she stated flatly.
He did, and she lifted her head back, opening her mouth wider as he leaned into her and his tongue pressed against her lips, eager to taste. She let him, moaning into his mouth, even as her own fingers blindly scrambled to unbutton his shirt. He drove his tongue hard against her, and she fought back, wrestling with her own wet organ, until the two of them were locked in a passionate embrace, one neither of them could escape from.
Kristen reached up, scratching her fingers over his torso, and found his muscles hard and rigid with the work of years. His chest hair tickled her palms, and she found herself caressing his abdomen, reveling in the sculpted rise and fall of the flesh she found there.
“You’re… stronger than you look,” she said, wondering if it was a compliment.
“And you’re more beautiful than you pretend not to be,” he flashed back.
He kissed her again, but this time his hand moved up her waist and braced itself at the bottom of her small breasts. She reached down, pulling his fingers upward so that he was cupping her left breast, and he began to knead it in a circular motion.
With one strap already down, the green dress had begun to fall further, and Rodney was drawn ever downward. Kristen let out another little gasp as his tongue trailed over the tops of her breasts. With an almost teasing slowness he pulled the lip of the dress down further, further, until it was barely balanced on the perch of both nipples. Her cleavage heaved back at him, and he licked the dark space between them, causing her to flatten her back and push her chest out at him.
She looked down as he pulled the dress off her nipples, and exhaled. Her small pink nipples beamed with a youthful exuberance, and it was almost too much for him. He planted his lips over one breast, sucking hard until she reached behind his neck and held his head against her. His other hand massaged the other nipple between the V of his middle and pointer finger. It hardened under his touch, rising to meet a singular desire that passed between them.
“Uhh, Rodney,” she murmured.
He stopped for a moment, his hand still firmly clutching her breast, and brushed her cheek with his other hand. They held each other’s gazes for a moment, hazel mingling with a verdant green, and she merely nodded, as if giving him permission.
Gently, he pushed her down onto the couch so that her head was propped against one end. The green dress had rode up on her thighs almost all the way, and Rodney saw she was wearing her blue panties again. Kristen didn’t need to look between her legs to know that she was aroused, or that a dark spot had formed on her groin.
Rodney said very little as he bent down, unbuckling his own jeans and scrambling out of them. His member throbbed tightly against the black briefs, and she opened her legs wider, letting him slide between them as he kissed her again. She lifted one knee, and almost jerked with the sensation of his bulge rubbing against the fabric of her panties.
His hand moved lower and scooted the green fabric of the dress up higher. Kristen felt entirely exposed now, but the feel of his warm naked torso against her breasts was a special kind of ecstasy she could scarcely ignore. She kissed him back, gyrating her hips against him even a
s he matched her movements. She tried to flatten herself against the couch underneath her, and found if she timed it correctly she could push her pelvis upward at the right moment so that Rodney’s member skidded across her clitoris.
“Unnnh, god,” she said, feeling a trembling spasm course through her body. Rodney reached under one leg, pulling it up higher so he could better grind against her. Their dry-humping had become a sweaty tangle of limbs, awkward and desperate, and she closed her eyes and grit her teeth. “Uhn, do you want to have sex?” she whispered at last.
Rodney gave a single nod.
He pulled his boxers further down, kicking them off onto the floor. She looked down and saw his penis fully flared and engorged. The purple head had pulled free of its foreskin, and was glimmering with an anticipatory wetness. She reached down, clutching the veined sex in one hand, and shivered at the thought of it moving into her. With care she stroked it, and took pleasure in watching Rodney close his eyes and submit to her own caress. She gave it another gentle squeeze, and felt a clear liquid drool over her wrist.
Some inner passion erupted in her, and she recognized it as the Tiger. A kind of intractable fieriness that hated to be chained – and when she left the cage open to it, as she had done by lowering her defenses to Rodney, then it would take the opportunity to express itself. Almost against her will, she growled and gave him a pleading snarl.
Rodney opened his eyes and a steely accord hardened in his eyes as he reached down, cupping her groin and rubbing upward. “Yes, unnnh, like that… I like it when you do that,” she said, craning her waist toward him. Her panties were almost totally soaked through, and Rodney pulled his hand away and found it slick with her juices. “Fuck me, Rodney,” she whined, closing her eyes, and her hands balled into fists as she gripped at the fabric of the couch.
