Chapter 7

Rikash returned to the den, the throb of his erection an ache needing satiation. His mate was not on the mating platform. The door into the hygiene chamber was closed and locked. He jerked against the handle, breaking it, and slid the door open. His mate gasped, looking up at him in alarm. "No locked doors," he told her sternly in his language and left her to finish in privacy. When she had flushed and washed her hands, he entered and started the water in the vertical hygiene space. He pulled her with him as he stepped under the spray, letting it wash the crust of their mating from them. He used the cleansing bar and scrub on her carefully, so as not to abrade her skin with its rough surface. When he was satisfied with her cleanliness, he placed the bar in one of her hands and the scrub in the other. "Wash me," he told her. She might not understand the words, but she was clever enough to determine them from the context. She knew what he wanted, but, as she had with the oil earlier, she was deliberately playing at obtuseness. She was not, he thought with amusement, as docile as she appeared. He watched as she evaluated the cost of defiance, and finally she rubbed the bar against the scrubbing pad and began to stroke it over his skin. He hummed, pleased, and saw her eyes lose focus, the scent of her arousal rising over the fragrance of the bar. His lips curled and he increased the hum into a growling croon. She dropped the scrub, but her hand continued to stroke over his skin mechanically, exploring the ridges of his scars, running her fingers through their lines. She might not be able to read them, but she enjoyed the texture, he thought, watching with a feeling of achievement. The scarification ritual had originated out of the courting process, its origin had been to display the worthiness of the male, his ability to defend both young and his mate from others, and as beautification. It was meant to be attractive, both visually and to the touch, and pleasurable, the scarred ridges on his c-k stimulating to the female during copulation. He put his hand against her lower back and eased her towards him, until both of her palms flattened against his chest, and he felt the splash as the bar hit the ground. It did not matter, he thought amused that he had aroused the female beyond functioning, he would cleanse again after their next rut. The feel of her skin against his was very good, he decided. He liked the way her breasts pressed against him, and he liked the way his erection felt, trapped between them. One of his people s dominant females would never have allowed him to handle them in this manner. But this was how it was meant to be, he thought. It s lack was what was wrong with his dominant males, why population levels were dropping, and why suicide was so high. There was a hole in their purpose that conquering neighbouring planets did not fulfill, and that rutting with the occasional dominant female and other males, or simulacrums, did not satisfy. He growled, changing the pitch, and felt his mate's knees give. "Look at me," he told her. She recognized the words, lifting glazed eyes to his, obeying, even if she could not focus. Her pupils were dilated, and her breath was heavy and quick. "Yes," he murmured, leaning down to lick the moisture that dripped down her cheek. It did not taste as sweet as her tears had done. He turned off the water and carried her, both of them streaming water, to the mating platform. The cloth would absorb the water, he reasoned, and he planned to change it after this copulation, to encourage her to take ownership of the den. She did not protest when he lifted and laid her on the bed, but her eyes fixed to the ceiling above them. He followed her gaze, frowning. There was a flaw in the paintwork, but he could not see why it would fixate her. He closed his mouth over the bud of one of her breasts, stroking its tip with his tongue until it elongated and hardened. He repeated with the other side. He would pierce these, he decided, closing his sharp incisors on the one he was sucking on, causing her to suck in a breath before he released his grip. He worked his way down her body, crooning, and knew from the scent of her arousal both that the crooning was well received and that she knew what his intention was. They had removed her body hair in the mate pens, as his own had been removed before duty, a standard sanitation process. He regretted the irreversible procedure, his body knowing that the hair would have held her scent better, and thus his, and he imagined dragging his tongue through her dark curls, tasting their combined scents with a growled groan. Not having the hair, however, revealed her secrets to him as he lifted her legs over his shoulders, and placed a hand against her stomach to hold her in place. She was dark and swollen with arousal, and the drag of the flat of his tongue across the sensitive nub, pushing back it s hood, caused her hips to buck against his hold. He sucked it between his teeth, and rubbed his tongue against it, whilst he inserted his fingers into her. She cried out, and it did not take long before he felt her orgasm, surprised at its speed and ferocity. Something, he immediately thought, to remember for when he wanted her ready for him in a hurry, that this method of arousing her was incredibly successful. He removed his fingers, and thrusted his tongue into her, wanting to taste the source of the scent that had him rubbing himself against the covers in a blaze of animalistic lust. He lifted over her, the taste and scent of her held in his mouth and thrusted into her as he sealed his mouth over hers, pushing his tongue past her lips until he could stroke the flavor against hers, making her taste what he did to her. She was so lubricated that he sank to the hilt without resistance, and the impact on his nerve receptors forced the breath from him with a growled groan. Interestingly, that raw sound drove her wild, her hands catching his hips as she angled to meet his thrust, her body arcing beneath his and clenching around him almost painfully. It was not a sound that he could replicate without the right stimuli, but the clench of her around him drew out a similar sound, and his mating croon became a rumble as she came, hard, her underdeveloped claws trying to find purchase in his skin, and her breath sobbing out against his shoulder. She closed her teeth on the meat of the curve of shoulder into neck, and his hips bucked in reaction, his seed spilling with a sharpness that curled his toes. She recalled herself too quickly to break through his skin, but his heart picked up a frantic pace, recognizing the latent instinct. She had wanted to mark him. He licked her cheek, and crooned encouragement. It was a female thing, he knew from his reading, to mark their mate. He felt something click into place within him, an opening, a clarification in the bond and with it he realized his mistake, and why the other males' bonding attempts had not been successful. For a moment, she had been a willing party to their bonding. It was both a revelation of hope, and a frustration. They had to make these human women want them, or what they sought would not work. The dominant nature was to take and claim, but this was the one thing that required the dominant males to both to follow instinct and go against it. What they most wanted could not be taken, it could not be claimed – it had to be given. He rocked his sensitized flesh against the gland binding him into place, enjoying the feel of her silken flesh saturated with his seed, stimulating himself against her cervix as he coaxed it to open and receive his genetics. "Look at me," he told her, seeing that she had become lethargic in her release, her eyes wanting to close again. She pulled them open, flickering, her pupils almost eclipsing her irises, her gaze completely without focus. He chuckled. She was utterly drugged with the pleasure chemicals her body released as a result of copulation. "Alright," he stroked his tongue up her cheek, tasting her flesh, cleaning, and soothing her. "I see that s an unreasonable request. Close your eyes and sleep, my mate." He crooned his purr, modulating the tone to encourage her to soothe into sleep, even as the press of his head against her cervix and the tightness of her around his gland brought a second, more potent, release of seed. He closed his eyes in the roll of pleasure, until the chemical release sagged his muscles, causing him to collapse heavy over her, growling his satisfied croon into her ear and vibrating it into her chest, even as his body dragged him into sleep. As it was meant to, the release of his gland woke him. She moaned a little as he withdrew, and he crooned into her ear, encouraging her to sleep. He had work to do. His knees did not want to bear his weight. His body knew what he was meant to do after rutting, and that was curl up around his mate until he was ready to ejaculate again, ensuring that no other male crept in and took his place. It knew he was not meant to rise from the den and work. Unfortunately, there was a difference between the primitive body, and modern life, he told himself ruefully, and as important as resolving the bond issue was, and thus his success at mating, he was in the middle of an occupation, and war was no respecter of physical need. He heated a ration pack and ate it at the soft seating looking out across the city he had taken. The sun was beginning to set on the day, bathing him in orange light. He would need to feed his mate, soon, he thought as he chewed and prepared a list of traditional mating equipment, from vitamin supplements that would encourage fertility in both parties, through to cloth for her to line the mating platform with. He checked on his reports and noted the names of the Hunters that had been released upon the human rebels with approval. Normally his name would be in there. He liked to participate in the Hunt, himself. It sated his need for blood and violence. But he was sating other needs at the moment. He heated a second ration pack and brought it and a canister of water to the den where his mate was just beginning to stir. She watched him with heavy eyes, exhausted after their copulation. He broke pieces of the ration up and fed her with his fingers, stroking the tips against her lips and tongue as he fed her, making her taste him. He would saturate her senses with him, until her body and mind had no choice but to acknowledge his ownership and open the bond to him. He curled his arm around her shoulders and held her across his lap as he fed her, his eyes fixed on her face. She returned his regard, her eyes drifting from his to the markings on his face and chest. He didn t correct her as he did during copulation. It was only right that she learnt his markings, he reasoned, and she could not do that if he did not let her eyes wander from his. His wrist comm rang during the intense mutual scrutiny. He responded automatically. "Rikash," Verika purred into the line, at her most seductive. He felt his mate s body tense, as if recognizing the voice as a rival. "It is not a good time," he was curt. "I am in the middle of an experiment." "What experiment is more important than I am?" She was annoyed. "I am attempting to determine why our males cannot establish a bond with the human females." He crooned at the female in his lap and scented her physical reaction. "You are f-king crooning," Verika s tone was sharp as a blade. "It is a necessary part of creating a bond," he replied between purrs. He leaned over and licked his mates cheek, grooming her into submission despite the unease the other female s voice invoked. "Oh, by the f-king Lords," Verika was appalled. "You have taken one of them as mate." "I am a dominant. I have needs, Verika." "Needs that can be met through suppressants and simulacrums," she responded tightly. "No," he knew it was the truth now. "Not sufficiently. I am ending the commlink," he told Verika firmly. "You are upsetting my mate and we are in seclusion, at a critical point of forging a Bond." He ended the communication on Verika s shriek of outrage, and hummed reassuringly to his mate, feeling her gradually relax against him. If nothing else, the attempt at forging a mate bond would force Verika into accepting his proposal, he thought smugly. He continued to feed the human woman until the ration pack was empty, then spent an hour stroking her hair, longer than his own. He recognized in himself, as his fingers moved in seeming compulsion through her locks, the obsessive nature of his actions. He was accessing primal behaviours in this mating that he had thought long forgotten and giving willing to them. He licked his way over her body, cleansing every inch of her with his tongue, until he suckled on that sensitive nub. He would pierce that too, he decided. The kits that he had ordered Nadyr to arrange would arrive in the morning, and he would subdue her with his croon, and with his tongue coax that sensitive bit of flesh out, before claiming it for himself, forcing it to stand out of its protection, vulnerable to his touch forever more. His teeth closed on it, causing her to cry out, and he imagined that such a moment had inspired the first of his ancestors into the need to pierce their mate s flesh, for it almost brought him to spilling his seed against the mating platform cloths. He would enjoy her pain and enjoy soothing it with his tongue. The speculation almost washed Verika from his thoughts.