The Hunter's Song

9: Pulse🔥(Eh'kt)

Her scent saturated my lungs. She was the flavor of sanguine cream; indulgent, sweet, and silky. I needed to taste all of her.

"I can't give you offspring," Mourning Crow whispered mid-kiss.

I embraced her tighter and caressed her cheek with my longest prehensile quills. "You let me worry about that."

She nodded and plunged her fingers deep into my mane before kissing me even harder.

Oh, but my mouth ached soo good!

I had no desire to harm her, despite knowing full well I was goading her into a fight. However, toward the end there, after invoking the Abura, it took serious effort to block her from ripping out my throat. I would be mindful in the future never to utter their name unless it was absolutely vital.

I felt myself swell and unfurl, and took it as a sign that it was time for us to move. She wrapped her legs around my waist as I lifted us both, trying my best not to make a sound.

I hated to admit it, but she did a real number on my ribs. Also, I think she cracked one of my tibias. Normally, I'd sleep off these types of minor injuries, but right now, I had no intention of taking it easy.

We shambled down the hallway, grinding and groping one another back and forth between the walls until her hand dove down my center.

"Wait," I swung our bodies into a doorway and pinned her against the entrance of the med center. I waved my hand over the motion sensor and activated a drawer stocked with pre-prepared med packs and surplus first-aid supplies.

Mourning Crow was closer and hovered her hand over the narrow line of multi-colored syringes.

"The purple will do," I jerked my chin.

She plucked it out and handed it to me, then ripped off my loincloth while I was busy injecting the solution into my thigh.

The compound burned through my veins and made my insides shiver. Finally, my arm stopped bleeding.

"Much better," I growled, chomping my jaw wide to confirm that I was free of annoying distractions.

"Good!" Mourning Crow's eyes were wild as she yanked her harness off over her head, not that it was blocking access to anything. Then she hooked her legs tighter and pushed me out the door.

Eventually, we made it to the dormitory. Mourning Crow had entertained herself by raking her tiny razored claws against the line of rigid nodules cresting the head of my cock and I was desperate to retaliate.

I pressed her back into the wall and smacked the control panel, triggering the bed to emerge from the floor, all-the-while kneading my claws into her muscular rear.

Every inch of her was sleek and taut. It was like cradling a wriggling shark in my arms.

I let her glide from my grasp onto the bed and crawled in close behind her, helping her tug off her shorts and discard them over my shoulder. Then we lingered there together, kneeling, her back to my front with my body crouched around hers and sitting on my heels, while Mourning Crow quietly allowed my hands to explore her body.

I caressed her neck and traced my slender touch-quills along the rims of her delicate ears. Then I licked off the dried blue blood staining her fingertips and basked in the soft patter of her racing pulse. I could only imagine what my own thundering organs sounded like to her.

Mourning Crow's bare skin was cool to the touch. I massaged her small nippleless breast and pondered what their purpose was since razkurs females weren't the primary child bearers. However, whether or not they were functional didn't stop them from being any less wonderful.