Barbarian’s Taming by Ruby Dixon
12
MADDIE
Hassenand I set out a short time later with only a single small supply pack. There’s not much to pack in there, other than an extra water-skin or two. All the rations are left with the tribe. We have two spears and a knife, but everything else is going to have to be made from scratch as we journey. Extra sleds, extra blankets, you name it—we’re going to have to make them. And with every item we’re not bringing along, I realize that this is going to be one motherfucker of a journey. I’d bitch about it, but I can’t say that our journey is going to be any rougher than anyone else’s. I look back at the tribe, gathered in a tight cluster, and I’m pretty sure I can still hear the wailing babies. There are a few people carrying a makeshift gurney for Pashov, who still hasn’t awoken.
Nobody’s got it easy right now. We just have to suck it up.
We walk, heading north. I want to turn around and hug Lila one last time, but I know she’s already taken off with Rokan. I would like for Hassen to hold my hand, but we’re both carrying spears and still close enough that the tribe would see…but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish for it, just a little. Snowshoes and clothing and furs are hard to come by, and with many humans needing them, all of the existing ones are spread thin. The wrap I have is light and not good for more than keeping out the wind, but we’ll get more furs at the nearest cave. My snowshoes are rickety and feel fragile, probably because they were made from ‘extra’ parts on an existing, sturdy pair. We’ll reinforce them when we find more bones and leather. I remind myself that it could be worse. I think of Pashov, carried by the others, and poor Stacy, who is in a zombie-like state of fear…and I feel lucky. Hassen’s safe. Lila’s safe. Lila’s mate is safe. We’re good.
More ash is falling, and the borrowed wraps I’m wearing aren’t particularly warm, but the hike gets the blood roaring, and I’m soon panting and sweaty despite the chill in the air. It’s overcast, thick, stormy clouds making it seem dark even at midday. There’s more ash falling than snow right now, and I keep my mouth and nose covered, like I’ve seen the others doing. Surely it can’t go on longer than a few days. I just have to suck it up. More troubling is the fact that the ash is getting into everything - considering that getting fresh water is as easy as scooping some new snow most times, I’m a little worried.
Even more troubling is just how silent Hassen is as we travel. He’s courteous to me if I ask questions, and helps me free my snowshoes if I trip. He offers me a hand when I struggle going down a hill. But he’s so very quiet, and the expression on his face is grim.
I worry about him. There’s no determination in his step, no confidence. He’s going through the motions, but there’s nothing there. I can’t tell if he’s upset at me, or just upset at the world. I don’t know if he’s in shock or if he’s grieving for Eklan like Warrek is…but I know there’s something wrong. My heart aches for him. And even though I’m quickly getting exhausted and this is just the first afternoon in what promises to be weeks of a journey, I’m still glad I’m here, because he needs someone. He can’t go through this alone.
Until he reaches out and tells me what is bothering him, though, I’m going to let him have his silence. Sometimes you need to be in your own head to process things, and nagging him won’t help. Plus, it’s taking all of my energy just to keep up. I bend my head and focus on putting one snowshoe in front of the other, following his tracks.
We make intermittent stops throughout the day, pausing to cross a stream or to check trails. We see a herd of dvisti in the distance, but don’t go after them. I’m guessing we’re going to have enough to carry home without adding more to our load. As the day wears on, my feet ache and my teeth chatter with cold, but I don’t complain. I do, however, scour every passing cliff in the hopes that we’re going to find a hunter cave and stop soon. I have to keep going until Hassen gives the word, though. I’m supposed to be helping rescue the others—I don’t know what kind of rescuer I’d be if I can’t even keep up with the preliminary hike.
And I don’t want him to change his mind and turn around so he can take me back to the others.
There’s no sign of either sun in the cloudy, angry skies, but I do notice it gets progressively darker as we travel. We veer off an easy trail through a valley to climb up a steep hill, and I want to bitch, but I figure there’s a reason we’re suddenly taking the hard road. When I see a cave entrance in the distance, a hint of a screen covering it, I sob with relief. There are a few rocks tumbled around the entrance, but it otherwise looks whole and undisturbed.
Thank god.
It hasn’t occurred to me until just now that there might not have been a hunter cave nearby. That they might not have survived the earthquake either. Man, we are in such deep doo-doo.
We approach it, and I inwardly cringe, expecting Hassen to turn this into a teachable moment. That I’m going to need to check the cave out, build a fire, do inventory, and I’m so damn exhausted that it makes me want to cry at the thought. It has to be done, though, so I need to suck it up.
But he only touches my shoulder absently. “Wait here. I will inspect the cave.”
And that worries me, too. Because it’s not like Hassen to coddle me. Normally he teases me, makes a few jibes at my bad observational skills, and then shows me the right way to do something after letting me attempt it a few times. He’s not even trying. And okay, maybe now isn’t the perfect time for lessons, and I’m grateful, but I also worry that this is just more proof that Hassen’s retreating.
He can’t retreat from me. I need him. He needs me. I can’t let him push me out.
Hassen disappears into the cave and returns a moment later, waving me in. I enter the darkness and feel for a wall. The rocks here are a little jagged—probably freshly ripped apart by the earthquake—and I’m a little careful as I move inward. “Do you want me to make the fire?”
“I have it. Sit down.”
I should argue, but I don’t. I drop to the ground, and once I do, my feet scream with pins and needles. They feel like blocks of ice, and my boots are soaked. Actually, I’m pretty sure all of me is. I huddle on the ground, hating that I’m so weak. That I can’t keep up. That I want to help and I’m going to end up being a liability after all.
The fire flares after a moment, and then I see Hassen’s features light up as he begins to feed it fuel. I look around the shadows of the cave. It looks to be well-stocked, a stack of rolled-up furs in one corner, and baskets of supplies along the walls. One end of the cave looks a bit rocky and collapsed, but otherwise it’s large and comfortable, with the ceiling high enough that Hassen can stand fully, and enough room for both of us to move around easily. Some of the hunter caves are quite small, but this one’s roomy. That’s both good and bad—good because it’s nice to stretch out, and bad because it takes that much longer to warm up.
Well, I can sit on my half-frozen ass, or I can help. I get to my feet and adjust the screen over the entrance so no gusts of wind threaten our tiny fire while it’s being stoked. Then I head to the furs and begin to unroll them, making a bed. There are three large bundles, which means we have enough for two people and two separate beds…but I hope it doesn’t come to that. “Mind if I get undressed?” I ask him. “My clothes are soaked.”
He grunts. “Hang them by the fire so they can dry.”
Not his chattiest moment. Doesn’t even comment on the fact that I’m about to get naked. That’s fine. I’m not feeling particularly sexy at the moment, just tired and cold. I peel wet layers of leather off of my body and strip down to the leather band that half-assedly serves as a bra. I’m now bare-assed, and I wrap one of the thick furs around my body like a toga before spreading my clothes by the fire. He doesn’t even glance my way, just continues to feed bits of fuel into the flame.
I feel my chest give another painful squeeze. He’s depressed. I can’t blame him—the sa-khui had a devastating setback. He’s allowed to be emotional, but right now we have to be strong. Lots of people are depending on us to bring back supplies to help with the brutal season. We can’t fail them. I don’t think he wants to fail them, either. I think he’s just…struggling.
Instead of lounging in the nice, warm, furry bed I just made, I haul my toga over to the baskets and pick through the neat leather pouches stored inside. Soap-berries, spices, something that looks like dried bait, fishing hooks made of bone…and another basket has some of the heinously spicy trail mix that the sa-khui love so much. I’m so hungry it looks good even to me. I pull out the pouch of it and move to Hassen’s side, offering it to him. “Here. Eat.”
“You eat. You need your strength.”
“Oh, I plan on eating. But there’s enough for both of us, and I doubt you’ve eaten since the cave-in. So dig in, my friend.” I shake the pouch at him, letting the contents roll around in what I hope is an enticing manner.
He ignores it, staring at the small fire again.
I swallow my sigh and put the food aside and wrap my hands around his arm, hugging his limb to my breast. He doesn’t push me away, but he doesn’t respond, either. “Wanna talk about it, big guy?”
“I should send you back.”
“’Scuse me?”
Hassen feeds another bit to the fire with his free hand. “This will be a long, hard journey. You should not come. You should stay back with the other human females.”
“Let’s just pretend I’m not hearing this sexist crap and let’s talk about what’s really bothering you.” I stroke his arm. “Because you are clearly not okay.”
“Okay?” he echoes, voice flat. “My people are homeless. My friend could be dying. The brutal season is coming. I am very much not okay.”
“Yeah, I don’t know anything about losing everything,” I snap back.
He looks over at me, startled. His mouth sets in a grim line, and he pulls his arm from my grip. I think he’s going to get up and push me away, but instead, he wraps me in his arms and squeezes me tight against his chest. He’s not comforting me—he’s clinging to me like I’m his lifeline.
I hug him close, stroking my fingers along his back. “I know it’s hard right now, but your people are strong and resilient. They’re going to get through this. If the home cave is gone, we’ll live at the Elders’ Cave. If not there, then somewhere else. It’ll get figured out, and we’ll survive.”
“I…” He pauses, clearly struggling with emotion. His hands grip me tightly. “All this sorrow, this despair, it reminds me of before.” I want to ask what before he’s talking about, but he continues. “With the khui-sickness. My family…”
Oh. I slide my fingers along his skin under his vest, trying to comfort with my touch. “You lost them.”
“I lost everything. I despaired greatly for a long time, and I see all this, and I feel myself going back to that dark place.” He takes a deep, ragged breath and holds me even tighter, and I can practically feel his chest ridges leaving an imprint on my cheek as he hugs me against him. “I need to be there, to help them, and Vektal sent me away.” His voice breaks, and I can feel the tension in his body.
He’s struggling so. My poor Hassen.
I pry myself loose from his choking grip and sit back, cupping his face so he has to look at me. “Hassen,” I say softly. “You know Vektal didn’t send you away because he didn’t want you around, right? He’s sending you away because you’re the best man for the job. You don’t have to worry about babies or a mate or a mom that needs help. Maybe it sucks that you got picked for what’s probably the least fun task out of all of them, but you’re the best guy for it. It’s not a slam against you, it’s a compliment.”
“He chose me because I am alone,” Hassen says bitterly. “Because the tribe does not care if I live or die.”
“Because you’ll come back with the supplies and he doesn’t have to worry about you,” I correct firmly. “And you’re not alone. I’m here right beside you.”
“You should have stayed with your sister.”
“Why? She doesn’t need me.” I tilt my head, studying him. “You don’t need me, either, not really. I’m not going to lie—I’m probably going to be shitty company on this trip. I’m going to be slow as molasses, and I’m not very strong. But you do need a friend…and I can be that for you.”
He covers the hands I have on his cheeks with his own, and then lifts my hands to kiss each palm. “Are we just friends, Mah-dee? You know you have my heart.”
I feel a little flutter in my belly. I want to tell him that he is, except…I worry about my judgment. Am I just clinging to him because he needs me? Is he latching on to me because he wants someone? Anyone? But I can’t turn him away. Not when he’s clearly hurting and I want to comfort him.
So I’ll skip the words for now. They can come out later…if at all. I move forward and press my mouth to his, kissing him. I move my lips against his, caressing and tender. I want him to know that in this moment, he’s absolutely loved and needed. I flick my tongue against his, and I can feel his breathing quicken as I twine my arms around his neck.
I want to show him just how much I care. Show him how much he’s needed. That he’s not disposable in my eyes.
I kiss his mouth sweetly for a moment longer, and then give a gentle little push to his chest, indicating he should lie backward. He does, watching me with hot, avid eyes. I move his leather vest aside, exposing his chest, and sigh with pleasure at the sight of all that hard muscle. Blue is officially my favorite color for a delicious, taut chest and perfect pectorals.
“What do you do, Mah-dee?” he asks, voice husky.
I just smile at him and lean down, pressing a kiss to his chest. I want to make him feel special, and I know just the way to do it. I flick my tongue along the hard, plated ridges covering the center of his chest. I imagine it isn’t as sensitive as other parts of his body, but judging from the way his breath is rasping, it’s still pretty exciting to watch. I’m getting excited, too. I’m doing this for him, because I want him to feel good…but I like doing it. Touching him turns me on, and I can feel my pussy pulsing in response to his arousal.
I kiss lower, moving in a direct line down his front. I don’t want there to be any guesses as to what I’m doing—I want him to realize and to anticipate. I flick my tongue down the hard line of his six-pack abs and scrape my teeth along his skin. He tastes a bit like sweat, and ash, but he also tastes like Hassen, and I love it.
“Mah-dee,” he rasps as I lap at his flat belly, heading for his navel. “You…”
“Shhh.” I kiss lower. “I’m concentrating. You don’t want to ruin my concentration, do you?”
His pained groan tells me that no, no he does not. I dip my tongue into the depression of his belly button, tracing it before moving ever downward. I have a very specific destination in mind, and I can tell he’s guessed it by now. If he hasn’t, the fact that I put my hands on his loincloth and tug on the strings should tell him everything.
A couple of pulls on the ties and he comes unwrapped, like it’s my birthday. Leathers fall backward, and then I see his big, delicious, oh-so-ridged cock thrusting into the air. His spur draws my attention, and I drag my fingers over it in a gentle caress before I grip his length in my hand and give him a tug.
Hassen’s head goes back, his fangs bared in a hiss of pure pleasure. I love the sight of that. With a smile, I stroke his cock again and then lower my head to give him a kiss.
He howls my name in response.
I giggle, dragging my lips over the head of his cock, wetting them with the pre-cum that’s sliding down the rounded tip. “I guess you don’t have to worry about being quiet out here, do you? It’s kind of fun to be noisy, isn’t it?” And I lick him, making sure to drag my tongue slowly over the crown.
“Mah-dee,” he pants. “My heart.” He reaches out and caresses my face while I have fun sucking on his cock. “Just when I think you cannot give me more pleasure, you astound me.”
Sweet guy. He hasn’t seen anything yet. I wrap my fingers tight around his length, squeezing, and pull him deep into my mouth. I take as much of him as I can, letting his length slick along my tongue. He goes deep, and his girth feels massive. I loosen my jaw, working him deeper, until he butts against the back of my throat and triggers my gag reflex. I release him, and he groans again, impossibly turned on by my actions. Yeah, I’m probably blowing his mind right about now.
It’s pretty fun, gotta admit.
I take him deep again, sucking hard, and this time I don’t gag. This time, I start to hum ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’ It’s a trick I learned from a friend when I first started bartending, and she told me all about how wild it made her boyfriend. The humming increases the vibration in your throat and tongue, and it feels really, really good to a guy. Maybe not quite as good as a prostate tickle, but I don’t know if Hassen’s ready for that sort of thing yet.
What I do know is that he likes the humming. His big hand touches my hair and then flexes, pulling back. It’s as if he’s wanting to push down on my head and is afraid of hurting me. I hum louder, working him with as much saliva and hand motions as I possibly can. He’s so big, and the ridges are a little distracting, that it’s hard to take him as deep as I want, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Over and over, I pump him with my mouth, humming that patriotic little tune as I do. I can feel his body tightening as I launch into the climax of the song, but he’s not there with me. Not yet.
So I give the underside of his spur a little tickle. I figure if it’s anything like my nipples, gentle rubbing on the underside will make him as crazy as that sort of thing makes me.
His body jerks. The breath explodes from his lungs, and the hand goes down on the back of my head, holding me on his cock. I lose control of the song, but it doesn’t matter. He lifts his hips, pumping, and then a moment later, my mouth fills with hot jets of come. He shoots so far down my throat that I barely taste it, and I hold still, squeezing the base of his cock to milk him. When I can swallow no more, I jerk back, my mouth flooding with the last of his release, and I cough a little as my throat works.
“Mah-dee,” he pants, a star-struck look in his eyes. I love the way he says my name like this, after he’s come. Like I just made his world all better again, just with my mouth.
I cough-swallow the last of his load, rather ungracefully, but the way he’s gazing at me, he doesn’t care. “Sorry,” I wheeze.
“I should not have come in your mouth,” he says, pulling me down against him and cradling me against his chest. He holds me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, and I cuddle up against him and love it.
“That was kind of the plan,” I tease, snuggling closer. “I wanted to make you feel good.”
“You did.” He is silent for a moment, and then adds, “Can I make you feel good?”
“I didn’t do it for quid pro quo,” I tell him. “I just wanted to give you some pleasure.”
“Quid…?”
“Reciprocal. Shit, you probably don’t know that word, either.” I think for a moment, then trace a circle on his yummy, yummy abs. “I didn’t do it because I wanted you to do the same to me. I did it because I wanted to make you feel as wonderful as I think you are.”
“I enjoy licking your cunt, though,” he tells me, and one finger trails up my arm and then traces a circle around one of my nipples, sending a shiver through my body. “Surely you would not deprive me of such joy?”
If it can make him forget the world for a few hours, I suppose I must ‘bear the burden’ of having my pussy eaten out. Darn. “Wouldn’t dream of it, big guy.”
