Page 93 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

We carry on like this until the thunder is nothing more than a distant rumble, less noisy than the rattle of some stones against the cave floor that Rachel dislodges as she walks round.

The rain still falls, a constant deluge.

It is a warmup for the skies - a taste of what is to come in the big rains, when it will fall like this for days on end with little respite.

It is a time for nesting down in your hut, mending clothes and pelts and sharpening tools.

All things that you do not have the time or inclination to do during any other season.

I think of Gregar, Jaskry and Anghar, who will spend a good portion of their time between their linasha’s thighs.

I hate the jealousy I feel towards my tribe brothers, but cannot deny it.

When Rachel yawns, I cease our learning game. If half the words I have taught her stick in her headspace, then she is a far cleverer person than I.

I expect her to move her pelts when she comes to sleep, but she does not, nestling in them so she is close to me, but not quite touching.

We are lying close enough that I can smell her scent with every breath I take, her now dry hair shining in the firelight just in front of me.

She only wishes to feel safe. I know this.

She seeks comfort from her friend. I am glad she considers me such, even as I wish I could be more.

Soon, Rachel’s breathing evens out, and I find myself suffering the same problem as the previous two nights. My cock, stiff and heavy in my leathers, intends to keep me awake.

With as much lightness as I can manage, I sit up, pausing to see if Rachel stirs. When she does not, I rise to my feet and pad out of the cave.

The rain is still a torrent, cold against my heated flesh.

It does nothing to quell the fire within my loins, though.

That all consuming blaze continues to grow.

It will burn me up, I know it. And sneaking out of the cave to relieve the pressure in my groin will only stoke the flames, because I will do it with images of Rachel filling my headspace.

I loosen the ties of my leathers when I am a short distance from the cave, taking myself in hand.

I moan as I pump my fist along my cock, a moan of want and need.

Even before my peak, I am dissatisfied with the pleasure I can give myself.

The empty, empty pleasure. I need it and loathe it equally.

I will not rest if I do not reach my peak, but I will be tormented with dissatisfaction if I do.

I snarl, tugging harder at myself, wishing it to be over. I am so focused on my own thoughts, I do not hear the pad of light footsteps until they are right behind me - when it is far too late to make any attempt to hide what I am doing.

Rachel stares at me, my shirt over her slender frame turned see-through by the rain, clinging to her every curve, the points of her nipples stiff beneath the fabric.

The rain runs in rivulets down her cheeks, tracing the paths I have so often imagined touching - down her neck, dipping beneath the collar of her top.

Her lips are slightly ajar, and I remember too late the way she hid her eyes from my nudity before - my form unpleasant to her.

I turn away from her, attempting to hide my body and my shame.

I am part way through stuffing myself back into my leathers when I feel the light touch of a hand against my arm.

I still, holding my breath as Rachel comes up beside me, her small frame close to mine.

So close. Her little hand reaches up, catching my cheek.

She applies a light pressure, encouraging me round to face her.

Her thumb glides across my cheekbone as she presses closer to me, closing the gap between us, her body flush against mine.

She trembles, the cold rain chilling her.

I grab her by the arm, ready to steer her back inside where she will be warm and comfortable, but a soft gasp escapes her lips, and my headspace empties, my body forgetting what I was about to do, and how to do it.

That little sound. I do not think it is in my headspace only that it was full of need.

Rachel sinks her fingers into my hair. Tugs on me until I bend down, as she tiptoes up to meet me, planting her mouth firmly over mine.

It is something I have seen Liv do to Gregar many times.

I wondered at it, as did the rest of the tribe.

It is a strange thing to touch mouths, and we questioned how there could be any pleasure in it.

But I understand now. Even in the cold, cold rain, Rachel’s lips on mine send heat through me, the gentle pressure of the touch a promise of pleasure to follow.

And it is Rachel. Rachel putting her mouth on mine.

My heartspace and headspace wake up to this fact all at once, my heartspace racing, my headspace spinning.

I do not know what to do. She is not my linasha, but she touches me with her mouth as though she were.

Or do human females give this touch out less exclusively?

I am busy wondering about this when Rachel’s hand circles my cock, sliding down the length of it.

I gasp, surprise and pleasure overwhelming me.

Rachel presses closer, her tongue darting into my mouth and licking against mine.

It is a touch that sets my blood on fire, and I sink my hands into her hair, licking her back.

I do not know if I am doing it right, my body moving on instinct, but I am rewarded with another squeezing stroke on my cock.

I turn so I am facing her fully, scooping her body against mine.

Her hands splay against my chest, before sliding up to cup my face again as she continues to move her lips against mine.

I squeeze her tight, afraid she will escape the cage of my arms and decide she no longer wishes to do this mouth touching with me.

Then I am afraid I have hurt her, but she only sighs contentedly and squeezes me back.

A cold trickle of rain runs down my neck, reminding me that we are outside the comfort of the cave.

It cuts through the haze of my passion, and I wrench my mouth away from Rachel’s, cradling her to me as I dash back into the cave.

I set Rachel down on the pelts, then build the fire up until it is roaring again.

When I look back to her, she is shivering, her lips a strange blue colour, but she is smiling, her eyes shining with happiness like I have not seen from her before.

Because we touched mouths? Because she touched my cock?

Now that I am not overwhelmed with her nearness, confusion floods my headspace.

She touched me as mates touch, but we are not mates.

We have not shared a dreamspace. I wish to continue touching her, but my heartspace is conflicted.

Do I dishonour her to touch her that way when she is not mine?

She did not act like it was any dishonour, and her people have different ways to mine.

They touch mouths. If this is not a raskarran way, then can I dishonour her by Lina if I touch my mouth to hers again?

I do not like the track of my thoughts. My headspace is tangled. I should not be trying to find ways around honour. It is a bad male who does such things. But the memory of Rachel’s body in my arms, her hand gripping my cock, makes all sense fly out of my headspace.

I sit heavily on my pelts. Rachel crawls over to me, wrapping her arms round me and pressing her lips to my neck. Each little touch of her mouth against my skin sends shivers through me, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she is cold.

“ Touch ,” Rachel says, running her hand over my leg. “Fire. Cave. Twig. Touch ?”

She is playing the naming game again, wishing for me to give her the words for what she is doing when she puts her hand on me. Driving me wild with need, boiling my blood and making sense abandon me.

“Touch,” I say, my voice rough.

“Touch good?” she asks, stilling her hand on its path up my thigh. She is dangerously close to my cock, and I remember how it felt to have her delicate little fingers wrapped around it.

“Yes, but…” There were other words I intended to say, I am sure, but they vanish as she dips her hand beneath my waistband, pulling my cock free.