“Come here.” Khor pulls me against him, back to his chest, his arms wrapping around me. His body runs hotter than mine, scales radiating warmth. “Temperature will drop more. Need shared heat or you'll freeze.”
He's already hard against my back. The cold makes him seek warmth through friction same as me. When he enters me from behind, it's not about dominance or claiming. It's about survival. Each thrust generates heat, keeps blood flowing to extremities.
“Someone's watching.” I feel it more than see it. That awareness of eyes on us.
“Vek. Maybe thirty feet. Behind the rocks.” Khor doesn't stop moving. “Let him watch. Let him see you're mine.”
The fucking is mechanical but necessary. When I come, the heat spreads through my body, temporary relief from the killing cold. When he knots, locking us together, our combined body heat creates enough warmth to survive.
“He's getting bolder.” I can smell Vek's arousal from here. “Coming closer.”
“Tomorrow he'll be bolder still. Next day even more.” Khor's knot pulses, keeping his heat inside me. “By the time we reach den, he'll be ready to challenge.”
“Will you fight him?”
“If he follows forms, yes. Traditional challenge requires accepting or losing territory.” His tail wraps around my waist, additional warmth. “But young hunters don't always follow forms.”
We stay locked until the cold forces us to move again, to generate more heat through friction. Three times during the night we couple just to keep from freezing. Each time, Vek watches from his rocks. Each time, he comes a little closer.
Day 14 - Dawn
The second day of return brings new problems. We're exhausted from the night, muscles stiff from cold and constant coupling. The trail shows more marks now. Not just Vek's alliance. Other males have been through here, drawn by the scent of an unbonded female in the territory.
“How many total?”
“Seven different scents. Maybe eight.” Khor's spines are partially extended, constant alertness now. “Most will just watch. Test boundaries. But only Vek's group will act.”
We push harder, trying to make distance. But the dead zones force us into predictable paths. Easy to track. Easy to follow. By midday, they're not even trying to hide. I can see them occasionally. Shadows on ridges, watching our progress.
Another dead zone, massive this time. Miles across. We have to backtrack, losing hours.
“They're herding us.” I realize it as we take the only available path. “Using the dead zones to control where we go.”
“Smart for young hunters.” But Khor sounds more irritated than worried. “Means they've been planning while we were gone.”
The afternoon brings more evidence of planning. A water source we were counting on is fouled, deliberately contaminated with something that makes it smell like rot. A path is blocked with a suspicious rockslide.
“Children's games.” Khor clears the path with casual strength. “Trying to weaken us before confrontation.”
But it's working. We're both dehydrated. Exhausted. And still a day from home.
That night, we find better shelter. A cave that actually blocks wind. But it also has only one entrance. If they wanted to trap us, this would be the place.
They don't attack. But they come close enough that we can hear them talking. Young voices full of bravado, discussing who will get the female when they defeat Khor. How they'll share me until one proves dominant.
“Let them talk.” Khor says when I reach for my blade. “Words are just noise.”
But when he takes me that night, it's rougher. Possessive. Making sure my screams carry to their ears. Making sure they know I choose him every time he touches me. The knot lasts longer than usual, keeping us locked while he marks me with his scent repeatedly.
Day 15 - Morning
The last day brings us within sight of home. The den is visible from the ridge, still intact. But something's wrong. Fresh scent markers everywhere. Vek and his alliance have been here, marking the territory while we were gone.
“They've been inside.” I can smell it. Multiple males in our space. “They went through everything.”
“Testing. Seeing if I'd protect it.” Khor examines the marks with disgust. “Juvenile provocation.”
But when we reach the den, nothing is destroyed. Just... touched. Moved. They want us to know they were here. Want us to feel violated.
