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I pause, glancing at the entrance. I wonder if that would help take the edge off. It didn’t help last time, but I’m desperate enough to give it another shot. I wonder if Sessah would hear me or smell it? Or would the fire and the crackle of the flames mask things? Do I chance it?
I slip my hand into my pants, and I'm so wet that my body makes a squelch the moment skin meets skin. Horrified—and utterly aroused—I pull back, washing my hands with a bit of melted snow in a bowl. Fuck. Fuck fuck. Now I'm burning even more, and I'm tempted to grab Sessah and just grind down on one of his big thighs until—
Until what? Until he decides he can't live without me?
It's like a splash of cold water over my face. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds, waiting for the arousal to pass. When it doesn't, I want to pull the blankets over my head and just hide away from the world. I splash cold water on my face instead and shiver at just how icy it is. Even the fire isn't keeping this cave warm, and I glance over at the screen. Sessah's out in the snow. He volunteered to stay out there, to give me space…so why do I feel like an asshole?
The cold doesn't bother him as much as it bothers humans, I reason.
He chose to be out there.
He's giving me space.
I stare at the safe, flickering fire for a moment longer, and then I get up and move the screen aside, peering out into the darkness. Sessah is there, his head on his pack, stretched out in the snow. He's wrapped in a heavy fur cloak, but the wind is getting frosty and I can see flakes on the air. "Come on," I say. "Get in here."
Sessah sits up, a surprised look on his wide face. "Sam? Do you—resonance—"
Oh fuck. "No, not like that," I yelp. "It's cold. You can come in here. I'm not that big of a jerk. Just don't try anything."
He slumps back, his shoulders practically rolled with defeat. "I will give you as much time as you need, Sam. I can stay out here."
"If I let you in, are you going to rape me the moment I go to sleep?"
He makes a choked sound. "Never. You would think such a thing of me?"
"I don't, actually. That's why I'm inviting you in," I grumble. My paranoid survival instincts, honed after years of Brad's harassment, are screaming bloody murder right now. But I know Sessah. I remind myself that he's a teenager. He wouldn't hurt me. I trust him, as much as I can trust anyone. "Come on. Before I change my mind."
He gets to his feet slowly, as if waiting to see if I do decide to leave him out there, then ducks into the cave. The moment he gets closer, my khui purrs even harder, and need flares through my body. I ignore it.
Sessah hesitates. He picks up his pack and his cloak, regards me for a moment, and then steps inside. As he brushes past me, my khui sings louder, embarrassing, needy thing that she is. "You have my thanks, Sam."
"Don't thank me. I was the one that kicked you out in the first place. I'm being a jerk."
His long, blue tail flicks as he settles on one side of the fire. "You are not jerking anything. I know this is hard for you. It is hard for me, too." He squeezes in, his horns scraping against the low ceiling, and then he crouches, all knees and enormous feet as he sets up his pack opposite of my bedding.
Jesus. I knew he'd grown bigger, but seeing him in this cave just emphasizes how much he's filled out. He's definitely not a kid any longer, I realize, staring at his big, hard thighs. I deliberately avoid looking at the bulge in between them, because if I start looking, I might not be able to stop. "Just know that I'm armed and I can handle myself."
"If it will make you feel better, you may stick me with a dozen knives," he offers. "But it will not change anything."
"It might make me feel better."
"It might," he agrees, and flashes me a rueful smile.
I remain by the entrance a moment longer, watching him get settled. This cave is definitely not made for two people, but I can't leave him outside. Even just standing near the mouth of the cave is bitterly cold, and I'd bet money there's a storm on the horizon. Biting back my misgivings, I move back to my bed and curl up, hugging my knees to my chest. It presses my blades against my skin, hard, uncomfortable reminders that I'm still bristling with weapons that say I don't trust him.
