My lungs were saturated in her scent and her mouth was the flavor of sanguine cream, soft, sweet, and silky. I needed to taste more of her.
"I can't give you offspring," Mourning Crow whispered mid-kiss.
I embraced her tighter and caressed her cheek with my lower mandibles, "You let me worry about that."
She nodded and plunged her fingers deep into my mane of quills and kissed 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, but toward the end there, after invoking the Abura, it took serious effort to block her from ripping out my throat. In the future, I would be mindful 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 blue 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, flexing all four of my mandibles to confirm that I was free of annoying distractions.
"Good!" Mourning Crow's eyes were wild as she yanked off her harness 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 kept herself entertained raking her tiny razored claws against the line of rigid nodules cresting the head of my cock and I was more than ready to retaliate.
I pressed her back to 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, she felt like cradling a wriggling shark.
I let her glide from my arms 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 dragged my tusks along the rims of her delicate ears. Then I licked off the dried green blood staining her fingertips and listened to her pulse race. 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 enjoyable.
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The Hunter's Song
Science FictionIn winning, she lost everything. Mourning Crow was kidnapped at age 13 and forced to compete in a 1000yr death match. She won the final showdown, and all it cost was everyone she loved. But that was all years ago before she finally broke free. Now s...