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I expect my mind to throw me back to the many nights of Simon, but before the memories can take hold, they’re derailed by Calran’s hands coming round to cup my breasts once again. My head rolls back, coming to rest on his shoulder at the pleasure of his ministrations, my legs spreading naturally, the pulsing between my thighs shifting to an ache, an emptiness. For the first time, I start to understand what it is to want something there, something filling it. So when Calran’s hand leaves my breast, questing downwards, dipping beneath my panties to brush over the curls of my sex, all I can do is whimper with need, the delicious rightness of his touch drowning out any lingering fear.
“Grace.” He speaks my name against my neck, his breath tickling over my sensitised skin.
Then his fingers slide downwards, cupping my sex before starting to explore. Even lost in the pleasure of his previous touches as I am, part of me tenses, waiting for the discomfort, the clumsy prodding to start. Calran makes a purring sound, his chest vibrating with it, his lips peppering little kisses against my neck, my shoulder until my legs fall wide open again, my muscles relaxing into his touches once more.
“Grace,” he murmurs again, his teeth grazing over the point where my shoulder meets my neck.
His fingers brush over my clit, and I nearly jump out of his arms at the bolt of pleasure it gives me. Calran’s arm comes across me, holding me tight to him as his other hand probes my clit, touching it in different ways, varying the pressure and the movement until he finds a combination that has me squirming against him. I can feel the hot bar of his cock at my back, even through the heat of the water, and I should be afraid. Should be worried that any moment now, he’ll flip me so I’m underneath him, and this will all become exactly as it was with Simon. Painful, awkward and uncomfortable, my body incapable of doing any of the things required of it.
But before my thoughts can start to spiral too far downwards, Calran nips at my shoulder again. I cry out at the contrast between that sharp little pain and the intense pleasure building between my legs. The emptiness of my core feels vast and distracting, keeping me from the bliss that I’m so close to reaching. But as if he can read my need in the taste of my skin, Calran glides his hand further down, his finger probing at my entrance.
I tense, despite that sensation of needing to be filled. Every time anything has gone near my core, it’s only meant pain, humiliation, for me, and it’s difficult to let go of that. I’m thrownback into the memories of Simon’s body on top of, inside of mine. The way his smell would linger on my skin afterwards. The hollow feeling in my belly that grew a little larger for every night that passed.
Panic bubbles up my throat. The sensations Calran coaxed out of me vanish, the only heat remaining that of the water around us. I want to wrench myself away from him, to run and hide.
Defective. That’s all I am.
It’s all I ever will be.
My breeder is defective.
But before I can go anywhere, Calran’s hand goes to my head, stroking through my hair. He makes a gentle sound, a low sort of rumbling in his chest, different from the purring sound he made before. I feel more than hear the rumbling as he draws me against him. His cock is still hard against my back, but the tenor of how he’s holding me has changed entirely, and the words he whispers in my ear are soothing, calming, meaning clear from their tone even if I can’t understand him.
For a long time, he just holds me. Then, as my trembling starts to subside, he stands, lifting me up into his arms and carrying me out of the cave. He doesn’t stop to collect our clothing, just strides across the clearing completely naked. And I know there isn’t anyone around, that none of the raskarrans would be affected by such a display, but I’m not so integrated into raskarran culture that I don’t cringe at the thought of my body bared for just anyone to see.
But we’re not exposed for long. Calran takes me straight to our tent, lying me back in the furs and wrapping them around me. He lies by my side, arms cradling me against his chest, but he remains on top of the furs, using them as a layer, a barrier between us. I wonder how he always knows exactly what to do to make me feel better, because it’s perfect. It takes away a levelof intimacy without removing our closeness altogether. I want him close as much as part of me doesn’t. That he seems to understand that contradiction without me having to explain it puts a sweet sort of aching sensation in my chest.
“Thank you,” I say to him, my voice shaky. “Maha shun.”
“Shun flanas vo’shashkan,” Calran says, pressing a gentle, undemanding kiss to my temple.
That kiss, the tone in his voice. They make a tension I was holding melt out of me. The fear that he would change his mind, that he wouldn’t want to give me time to adjust to all of this anymore, loosens its grip on my heart. It leaves me feeling exhausted, spent, my eyes growing heavy despite the fact that the day has barely got started.
I go to sit up, to shake off my sudden fatigue and do… something. Get dressed. Look for medicines. Fill my time with something to keep the troublesome thoughts away.
But Calran just makes the low rumbling noise again, drawing me back down into the furs. He strokes his hand over and through my hair again, and the sensation is so pleasant, so relaxing. It’s not long before I give in. Let myself drift.
“I shouldn’t be this tired,” I say to Calran as the dreamspace forms around us.
We’re in exactly the same configuration as we were in the real world, the furs bundled round me, his arm over the top of them, only I’m also dressed, and so is he, our clothing an extra layer of comfort.
“Emotions are tiring things,” Calran says. “Especially the difficult ones. In the days after the sickness, many of my tribebrothers spent a lot of time sleeping. It is something I was prone to, also.”
He toys with a lock of my hair, stretching it out to its full length, then letting it coil back up again.
“I admire your hair very much,” he says. “It is so very different. Beautiful.”
“Difficult is the word you’re looking for,” I say. “Taking care of it, keeping it nice, is hard work.”
“I wish I could offer you assistance, but it is not like raskarran hair. I would not know the ways to care for it properly.”
“My mother taught me the tricks when I was just a little girl. It wasn’t easy to find the time or the resources - even a few tiers off the bottom like my family were, we didn’t have a lot.”
It was a more comfortable living than the other girls experienced, but not by much. No education, no freedom, no rights - just slightly more skilled work for us to be trained into. I remember hearing Simon and his friends talking about their place in the hierarchy - how they had earned it, how much better than those beneath them they were. No one on my tier had that delusion. We knew we were kept out of the bottom by the luck of the draw alone.
“Do you have everything you need for it here?” Calran asks, shifting so he’s almost over me, but only to better look at me as we talk. It’s funny how well I can read his intentions. How safe I feel already with him.
Because he stopped when it mattered. And I know he would do so again.
