Gron was disappointed. He had wanted there to be some trick or technique that was sure to work. Telling him to love her and be considerate of her was not helpful when he had been doing that all along.
“Alright, I will keep that in mind, Fathers, thank you,” he said.
“Can we go back to sleep now?” Brur asked.
“Gryla will be up by now,” Griss reminded him, and they shared a brief rumble of displeasure at having missed their morning with her.
They headed back to their tree anyway, while Gron took Ruth’s hand and lead her away, out of the village, to the spot he had found for their new home.
Chapter 18
They ate as they walked, Gron noting happily that Ruth remembered what he had shown her the day before and was able to pick out her own food for the most part. He pierced a couple of watershells for her, and she even talked now and then, the way she used to do when they were alone. It felt comfortable and companionable, like nothing was wrong, but Gron was not happy. He would never be happy as a stud, whether it was an honour or not. He had to be her favourite. She had to care about him.
Walking was taking a lot longer to get to where he wanted to be than if they travelled through the branches, but Gron thought this way was better. Their relationship had worked so well when it had just been the two of them, with none of his family or tribe getting in his head. Taking the long way gave them a chance to get back to that. The forest that his tribe called home was fertile and sunlit and full of life. Everything was green and birds were singing and small mammals dug through the underbrush looking for food. It was warm in the sun and cool in the shade, and Ruth’s easy talk filled the space between them. Perfect.
After a while, it became clear that Ruth had realised they had left the tribal village behind, as she kept looking over her shoulder, as if she expected to see it recede into the distance. She didn’t appear to worry about it for very long, however. Gron was encouraged by her trust in him.
Eventually they reached the spot he had chosen; in his opinion, a very good spot. He had secured the basic frame of the platform the day before, high up enough to still be safe from the Eater, but low down enough that Ruth would hopefully feel more comfortable. It would take him less than a day to bind the surrounding branches in such a way that she could climb up and down freely, without his help, if she wanted to. The platform faced into a miniature clearing, demarking it as the platform of a Queen. There was room enough for children to play or a small tribe to sit down to feast. There was food and watershells all through the forest, though he had yet to decide on the best bathing spot for her.
He pointed the beginnings of the platform out to her, and she understood him almost immediately, showing her teeth and looking excited. She said a lot, bobbing her head, and hitting her hands together to make a sound. His pelt puffed up at having pleased her, and he made motions for her to stay where she was before climbing up to continue his work. He had more branches to bind, but the difficult part was wrangling the leaves into place so that it would be stable with no weak spots.
As he worked, he could see her pass in and out of his field of vision on the forest floor below him. He didn’t worry about anything happening to her because she was making a pretty, melodious noise as she went back and forth. When he got to a bare patch in the platform or the edge, he checked on what she was doing, and found she was making another basket out of ferns she had found.
Gron was pleased; it would have hurt him to think that she would never find anything to entertain her here and that she would be dissatisfied. He had no idea how she had spent her days before they met. But she was sat on the ground with the beginnings of a basket between her legs and another, lumpier, finished one beside her. Her melody stopped and started as she concentrated, and his tail flicked to match it.
Then he realised Troii must have taught her how to make the basket, or at least which ferns to use, and he returned to his own work on the platform with renewed vigour.
They worked that way together for quite some time, eating when they wanted, moving where they needed but comforted by the other’s presence. Ruth built two baskets, then moved on to weaving vines together for some reason. This seemed like a more experimental project, as she kept undoing her work and changing what vines she used, and seeing her struggle made Gron want to help, but he didn’t know her purpose and he could find no better vines than the ones she already had.
The sun was just on its way to setting when Gron was satisfied the platform was solid enough to be safe for Ruth. He dropped down to the forest floor where the shadows had grown deep enough to impede Ruth’s work, and approached her where she sat, squinting at the vines. He held out his hands and she let him help her up without hesitation. He pulled her into the clearing so she could see the platform as a whole. She stroked his arm and showed her teeth, so he offered her his back and took them up.
Once she was on the platform, he went back for the baskets and vines, bringing them up and setting them by the trunk of the tree, admiring them as the start of the material goods they would build up over the course of their lives. He went to stand behind her, admiring the view of the forest being hit by the golden-red sunset, empty of other platforms and other people. This would be their territory, at least for now. If Ruth took more males from Grasta, it might not be safe to stay so close to her tribe.
Gron turned Ruth to face him, not wanting to lose too much more light if he was going to do what he was planning. He was nervous. He’d never done this before, and had no idea how she would react. It could make things much worse, it could break their relationship for good. The decision-making part of his brain was barrelling ahead though, determined, not permitting fear to stop him. He’d already made his decision. He had to get her favour back.
Slowly, he sank to his knees, watching her face closely. His hands were on her waist and he felt her tense, but she didn’t move or push him away. He moved his hands down her body until they passed the fabric of her loose black covering and were touching the skin of her thighs. Then he slowly pushed them back up, over her hips and under the black covering she wore. He could feel now how her breathing had sped up, trembling through her chest as she looked at him.
She still had not stopped him, so he broke eye contact to look instead at the small piece of fabric she wore wrapped around her hips, covering her sex. It was the first time he had seen anything like it on her body, and it was just his luck that now was the time for this new development. Was it meant to keep him out? He pulled on it and Ruth did not stop him, so he pulled again. It hugged tight to her body and did not come away easily.
Ruth’s hands joined his, her thumbs slipping under the sides of the material to push it down her legs, stepping out of his hold so that her top covering fell back into place and hid her sex from him again. Once she dropped the discarded fabric, she went to her knees in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his.
Gron rejoiced in her attention, as always, but he knew he could not afford to be distracted. He pulled on her other covering, and she obligingly pulled it over her head, disposing as well of something that had wrapped around her breasts that Gron was glad to see go without him having to struggle with it. Then she was naked as he was, but always more so without a pelt to cover her, except for the tiny patch between her legs.
She had lived with him like this for days, but somehow it still seemed new, probably because of the coverings she wore. The liquid flame of desire swirled through him at the sight of her, but he pushed it away. He remembered his fathers’ advice, to take his time, ignore his own impulses, and use his whole body to pleasure her whole body.
He began by dipping his mouth to her neck, holding her small waist in his hands. He remembered how she had licked him there in the past, and he copied that now. It was all so much easier without a pelt in the way. A shudder went through him as he realised he could lick her whole body if he wanted to.
Ruth tipped her head back to offer her throat to his to
ngue as he licked a long wet stripe over her pulse. He pulled her against him, sitting on his heels to level their heights, and listened to her breathing and the tiny noises she made. Her hands told him what to do, gripping his shoulders, or slipping into his pelt to scratch at the ultra-sensitive skin underneath. He pressed his lips to her throat and sucked gently, and was rewarded with a moan.
Supporting her with his arms at her back, he trailed his mouth down her chest to continue what Kranu had interrupted the morning before at the pond, licking around her nipple before taking it into his mouth, making her moan again. He didn’t think about where this fit into his tribe’s morality, or what the Queens would do if they saw, or what Kranu would say. This would be their territory, they were alone here, in peace.
Ruth stroked her hands through his hair and arched her back, encouraging him to do more, pulling one of his hands around to cup her free breast. He lowered her onto her back to give him more freedom to move. He worried that she would resist having him on top of her, but a quick look at her face suggested she thought nothing of it. He remembered when she had pulled him down to mount her in the cave. She obviously didn’t find it offensive.
He lapped at her skin all the way down her body. She wriggled, but hadn’t pushed him away or chided him. Males had to wait for their Queen to want them, they were not allowed to initiate matings or pleasures themselves, so he was expecting her to grow angry at any moment. That concern was fading as his passion grew, however, and he became less focussed on what was correct and more lost in what simply felt right.
A small voice suggested that he was being so indulged because it was the job of a stud to provide pleasure, and beyond that, he was meaningless, but he ignored it. That was the point of this after all, to prove himself to her, to eventually earn back his place.
Ruth mewled as he slowly lifted her legs apart, keeping his eyes on her expression. Did she know what he wanted to do? She had been there when he had seen Grasta and her stud. Had she understood what they’d seen? She’d certainly appeared to react to it.
Slowly, he lowered his head and licked the inside of her thigh. Her sex was there, so close, he could see she was wet. He was still shy though. He had to prove himself, but males were not expected to initiate, to perform. He had been raised to have his tail pulled and to lie down, if he was ever chosen by a Queen. Still, he knew Ruth better than anybody. Her pleasure was his to give, his duty, and his alone.
He positioned himself and gave her one last look, one last chance to stop him before he started, and she was so beautiful, lying spread and bare, her exposed skin glowing with sweat and the gold sunset, her chest moving with her breath as she watched him, and he realised she was aroused. She was looking at him and waiting for him to continue, wanting him.
That staggered him for a moment. Queens chose their males for a variety of practical reasons, but they usually had one they chose for his looks. Gron did not look like those males did. He always believed Ruth had Bonded him for protection, for survival, and mated him because he was all she had. Thinking that she also found him attractive made his chest feel like it was too small for his heart.
He didn’t feel as shy then, and with a deep rumble of satisfaction, he pressed his tongue to her open sex, her thighs over his shoulders and his arms curled around them to stroke her stomach or hold her hips. Her body jerked when his tongue touched her, and she moaned as he pressed it against her, licking a wide stripe up over her. Her flesh was unimaginably soft - he almost felt guilty for ever touching her with anything other than his tongue, the softest part of his body. She was wet for him and he growled, and she rolled her hips against his mouth for more.
He took his instruction from her reactions, quickly focusing his licks on the small hard point above her entrance that made her thrash and buck her hips and seize fistfuls of her hair. He had learned already how she liked to be touched by his fingers, how she had taught him in the stream in that dead forest which felt so long ago now, so he pushed one of her legs up and angled his hand underneath it so that his thumb pressed against her entrance, which clenched around it.
He made sure to be careful of his teeth, keeping his long canines against the hollows of her thighs as he rolled his tongue over that one point that gave her the most pleasure. Her thighs tightened and her heels dug into his back as she moaned louder, her hands coming down to run through his hair and scratch the back of his neck. Her whole body curved as she peaked on a cry he was sure the whole forest could hear. He liked that about her as well, the way she announced herself without fear when they were together. He didn’t stop until her cry became a whimper and her body went slack.
Gron pushed himself up from her, gently placing her legs down by his sides. Ruth was lying with her head turned to the side and her eyes closed, out of breath. Her arms lay limp at her sides. Gron rumbled questioningly, wanting her to at least open her eyes if she was awake and alright.
Hearing him, she managed to blink her eyes into focus and turn to look at him, then held out her arms.
“Gron,” was all she said.
He hesitated, unsure, then he crawled over her, extricating his arms from her legs, moving them up to beside her waist, and shifting his weight so that he was leaning over her. She reached for him, lacing her fingers behind his neck and pulling gently but insistently. She said something that he hoped was positive judging from the expression on her face, and pulled until he was forced to go down to his elbows. She murmured more soft words to him and wiped his mouth with her thumbs before pressing her lips to his.
She seemed pleased with what he had done, almost lethargic from her peak, but he wished he could understand what she was saying. Then he felt one of her small hands stray to his tail and begin drawing light, teasing, tickling circles around the base. He tried not to stiffen in response. This was supposed to be about her pleasure, not his, and while he was aroused and his male part hung heavy and aching between them, he had been trying to ignore it, but she was making it difficult, as seemed to be a favourite pass-time of hers.
Ruth rubbed the base of his tail hard and he groaned, his hips pushing back into her hand. He looked down at her uncertainly and she pressed her knees to his hips, then leisurely stroked her hand down his tail, pulling the end towards her. He watched as she held the end over her chest, petting it and running it over and over her hands. She brought it to her lips briefly as she looked at him, squeezing his hips again with her legs.
Ruth dropped his tail on her chest and reached for him again, one hand going for the base of his tail while her legs wrapped around him and pulled him towards her. She wriggled under him until she was comfortable with their position, arms around his waist, his arms braced on either side of her head, legs hooked over his hips, and the head of his shaft pressed tightly against her entrance. A fraction of a push and he would breech her body, which must be what she wanted, but so soon? He was forgiven so soon? He feared another test.
She showed him her teeth and lifted her head to lick the sweat from his shoulder, before murmuring something against his skin, torturing him by slicking him through her folds with small motions of her hips. He almost growled at her for teasing him, but it came out as a pleading whine. If she could understand him, he would beg. This was what he wanted, to be one with her again, to be connected in that ancient, natural way, but he wanted to be asked. He wanted her to want him.
Mercifully then she stopped teasing him, placing him again at her entrance and digging her heels into his thighs. It seemed she wouldn’t do more than that, wanting him to mount her, keep taking the initiative as he had at first so, almost overcome by wonder and trepidation, with a gentle push of his hips he carefully and slowly eased into her body.
Ruth moaned and arched her back, and Gron bit his lip to keep his control and growled. She was so perfect, every time. Tight and hot and wet. He felt like he was made for her when they were like this. As he slowly sunk into her, propriety was scattered on the wind, and he lowered his body to rest against hers,
feeling her damp, trembling skin all along the length of his body, relishing the knowledge that her sweat would stick to him and his pelt would rub his scent all over her. He caged her body under his, sheltering her from the rest of the world, until all she could see was him, and all he could see was her, and anyone looking would know it was impossible to get between them.
She lifted her hips to meet his and grabbed his rear with both hands. He flicked his tail back and forth over them and he sheathed himself in her fully, rubbing the fur at the base of his shaft against the sensitive spot he had teased with his tongue, making her cry out.
He withdrew and pushed back in with a groan. The knowledge that he was mounting her again as a mate, that she wanted him on top of her was almost too much, he had to force himself to be gentle. As it was he rocked his hips hard into her, but she moaned and clung to him tighter and lifted her hips to meet him, so he allowed himself that much. That, and he sought her mouth with his to offer her his tongue as well. She slanted her lips against his and pulled hard, sucking his tongue into her mouth and winding her own around it. She moved her hands to hold his jaw, her hips now bumping into the platform, so he moved one hand to cushion her rear, tilting it up so he could twist into her body, making her jerk and moan with each thrust.
Her whole body tightened around him, arms gripping him harder, legs holding him closer, the commanding silken sheath of her sex tightening more and more, as impatiently reluctant to let him go as he was to leave. His rhythm became faster, shallower jerks, sweeping his pelt against her sex until she seized and gripped him until he burst, the straining coil inside him breaking and his growl turned into a roar of release, his seed pumping into her in shoot after shoot, surprising even him at how much his body wanted her.
When it ended, his breath came in heavy gasps, and he realised he had only just managed to keep his weight off her. As it was, he felt sedated, but he managed to shift his weight onto his side as he collapsed, lying half on Ruth and half off. He rumbled his bone deep satisfaction and love for her quietly as it was all he could manage, dragging his tail over her in a gesture he hoped she understood.
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