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All right, so two cocks isn’t as weird as I initially thought it would be. I’m a little embarrassed that drunken-me ran away the first time. Yes, he does have two cocks, but they both feel normal, the delicate skin over the hard shaft and a bulbous head, just like a regular cock. The only weird thing other than the number is that he doesn’t have balls to play with, but I figure two cocks would keep my hands full anyhow.
We clean up after breakfast, and I warm some water so we can wash. It cools down almost right away, and I hate to hand it over to Skarr. I’m still worried that the temperature here on this planet might be too much for him, but there’s nowhere else for us to go.
Strange that I’m thinking “us” now. Strange also that I don’t hate it.
Skarr pulls the slit in his groin carefully apart, pushing to have his cocks extrude again so he can clean them off. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, fascinated at the unusual workings of his body. His cocks are flushed a deeper shade of green than the rest of him, but they’re…rather pretty. They’re not insanely veiny or fat, just thick and smooth and pleasant, with no wrinkled nutsack dangling underneath. It actually looks…tidy. I decide I like it.
“If you keep watching me touch myself, I’m going to extrude all through the day,” he tells me in a low voice. “And then my magnificent cocks will shrivel off from the cold and you will be sad.”
I snort at that. “First of all, I wouldn’t let them get that cold. And second of all…we’re staying in all day, remember? So you can extrude all you want.”
He gives me a heated look and as I watch, one thick cock pushes out from his groin, followed swiftly by the second. “Now you’ve done it,” he mutters, but he doesn’t seem unhappy at my attention. I bet he’s preening inside, my ridiculous peacock. It makes me smile.
I need to remember that Skarr is a virgin. It was clear when he was going down on me that he was new to things—a fast learner, but definitely new. The thought rouses my protective instincts, weirdly enough. Like it’s another vulnerability of Skarr’s that I’m going to keep secret, as a partner should do. He’s so very proud that anything to puncture a hole in that ego of his would be devastating.
And strangely enough, I don’t feel like taking him down a notch. I’m growing oddly fond of his ridiculous brand of self-hype.
Fooling around in bed also confirmed a few memories for me, too. I’m not a virgin. Or at least, the person I was before was not. I have faint memories of old boyfriends, hotel rooms and nights in cozy tents and a faceless summer fling from Anchorage.
Alaska. All my scattered memories of hiking and skiing and the mountains are suddenly making sense. My dad loved Alaska. Loved the independence of it and having a cabin deep in the woods and coming up for supplies when he had to. That’s where I’ve gotten all my knowledge from. Now I’m remembering that Dad didn’t like the Anchorage boyfriend because he just wanted sex from me.
Turns out Dad was right.
The memory makes me smile instead of frustrating me. I don’t mind that it’s a piecemeal sort of memory because I don’t need details. All I need to know is that I’ve got a lot more experience than Skarr when it comes to this sort of thing. I’m going to have to take the lead if I want him to know how to pleasure me, how to make me come. Luckily he’s eager to learn.
Once we’ve cleaned up, we snuggle under the furs by the fire again. I peek outside and see the snow isn’t going anywhere, so I sit in his lap, naked, his limbs curled around mine as we discuss everything and nothing in particular. We talk about the weather, and I tell him about Alaska, which was so beautiful in the summer and so unforgiving in the winter. I tell him a little about my father, and then I try to explain how skis work to an alien man who has never seen snow before landing here.
It goes about as well as you think.
“I still do not understand,” Skarr says in a grumpy voice, his arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder. “Two oversized planks on my feet would slow me down, not speed me up.”
I’ve been laughing at his confusion for a while now, because he’s so delightfully clueless about skis. “I told you—they’re oiled. You glide over the top of the snow instead of sinking in. That’s how you go faster.”
He grunts. “Oil up anything and it will glide faster. I don’t see why it has to be a giant wooden plank strapped to my foot. You are pranking me.”
“I swear I’m not!”
He makes a sound that says he clearly doesn’t believe me, and it makes me laugh even harder. “I’ll show you when the weather gets a bit better. Hopefully the sun will come out and melt some of this snow away.”
“There are two suns,” Skarr reminds me, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder and sending shivers of delight down my spine. “And if you think those puny things can melt anything you are crazy…which might explain why you want to strap wood to your feet and hike through the mountains.”
“Bone,” I remind him, giggling. “There’s not much wood here.”
“Bone. That’s even worse.”
“That’s for later, though,” I say, sliding my hands over his and linking our fingers. His are still a little cold, which means I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. “The first order once it’s warm enough to leave the hut is to go out and pick up more fuel. I know there’s enough for everyone in the supply tents, but I want to have a stash of our own for the really cold nights when we need to burn more.”
“Like last night?”
“Exactly.” I don’t tell him that I’m also thinking of ways to make the hut warmer, like lining the walls with stitched-together leather to make yet another layer to protect us from the outside. I’m also thinking thick rugs to cover the stone floors, and so many furs in bed that Skarr will be sleeping like the princess and the pea with twenty mattresses under her.
“I will help,” he says, pressing another kiss to my shoulder. “Even though it is beneath a gladiator of my caliber to shovel shit like a drudge, but if you do it, so will I.”
“That shit keeps you warm,” I remind him, tilting my head so he can keep kissing my neck, because it feels amazing. “The others aren’t going to give you a hard time for hanging out with the women, are they?”
A few of the gladiators—Valmir and Chalath namely—have balked at the thought of learning some tasks because they are “not warrior work.” I’m not sure how Skarr feels about it.
He shakes his head, his mouth trailing up to nibble on my ear. “They only say that because Valmir is frustrated with a female and Chalath is jealous that no one has resonated to him.”
