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It was all a give and take, right?
Being out here, living in the wild, it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t comfortable. A guy didn’t come out hunting animals because it was simple. The difficulty was part of it. You sacrificed comfort for the payoff of the accomplishment. The accomplishment meant morebecauseof the sacrifice.
So, I knew when Cypra said things to me like she wanted me to force myself on her, it wasn’t really about wanting me. It was about the sacrifice. Getting to that shipmeantmore if she sacrificed everything, including her body, to get there.
I just didn’t want to be that thing she was sacrificing herself to.
No.
That was a lie.
I wanted…
Fuck, I had never wanted anything like the way I wanted her.
Right now, if you had said to me, “Choose. Cypra’s pussy or hunting.” No question. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to fuck her now. I wanted to put my pleasure cock on her again and again and again, and I wanted whatever was stirring inside my pelvis, straining and trying to work its way out of me? That. I wanted to putthatin her.
So, the thing was, this was just all very fucked up.
Because I knew she didn’t really want me, but I was trying to make it her fault somehow, like make it that I was doing her a favor, when I was really taking advantage of her martyrdom to use her body for my pleasure.
It was disgusting.
I didn’t think I was this sort of man.
I hated myself.
And it didn’t matter, because the mating urge inside me was too strong. The mating urge was making me into some kind of monster, and I was paying lip service to the idea that I was fighting it, but I had surrendered a long time ago.
I drove the speeder and we went further and further north, heading toward the coordinates of her ship. We couldn’t lock on to the coordinates, because there were no signals and no network up here. But the speeder had internal maps, downloaded when we were in range of the networks, and I could follow those to get there.
We traveled in silence, but I could smell her, and my body was, uh, was changing. I could feel it, things inside me waking up and rearranging. There was an uncomfortable pressure in my pelvis—but the discomfort was also pleasurable, a promise of something to come.
From what I understood, after a first mounting, my mating cock could descend as soon as the span of a day-night cycle (about eight hihors). It might take longer. I didn’t know if it would take longer because it was the first time it had ever descended. But I was excited by it, and I felt vaguely miffed at myself for neverwantingthis to happen.
My body was designed to do this, so why had I never wanted to take it out for a test run?
At any rate, I was enjoying the fact I was experiencing it, and I was thinking all sorts of filthy thoughts about Cypra.
Ilikedher human body.
Her little hairless ass cheeks, all rounded and smooth? Digging my fingers into her while I pressed between her soft, smooth thighs? It was enough to make my eyes roll back in my head at the thought of it.
I considered doing it again.
My pleasure cock had no objections to the idea of it.
I could stop driving, jump her, and she’d… what? Would she fight me? I thought I could do it anyway, even if she did.
That wasgross.
I hadnotjust thought that.
I tightened my jaw, stared out the window of the speeder, and resolved not to touch her. Those thoughts were just my instinct. This was why we had suppressants, because this was what our mating was like.
The way I understood it, the way it used to be, my ancestors would come up here and it would be a free-for-all. Women would separate from the men and go running off to hide. And men would chase them. I didn’t know if the chasing was part of it, like some kind of game, or if… if maybe the women didn’twantto be bred cycle after cycle, having litters of two to four children after every Star Season, nursing them, weaning them, only to be forced to leave the young with the older generation once Star Season came around again. To be forced to go back up to the pole again and it all to startover.
And maybe the men didn’t want to do it either. It was difficult for them as well. They often bulked up before the season, overeating because it would be a stretch of time in which they had no time to feed themselves, only to fight off predators, fight off competitors, and breed, breed, breed. Lots of men didn’t survive the season amongst my ancestors. Lots of women didn’t survive either, of course.
