Thick Thighs & High Tides | P3: In Misplaced Aethers
A surrealist path suddenly lay charted before an unrelinquished Amara, who upon her wake is forced to search the forest for her missing Windborn lover, Gael.
Art, characters, and the vast majority of the lore by BassyBefuddle.
Bassy's upload: https://www.sofurry.com/view/2100410
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Part 3
In Misplaced Aethers
But when I woke up, there was no one.
I woke in a mind-and-body way: the rush came first to my head and last to my body. Guidance Delma once proposed this is how you'd first wake if you were gone, but I was in too much pain to Be the Winds—my veins were venom. The soil beneath was as hard as rocks; no, not soil, wood. Oak, I think. That's when I saw the river, and the river saw me.
I was eye-to-eye with an orange-feathered motionless avin staring up through a sheet of ripples. Its body was purple from the river's blueness, back hunched, chest leaning. A beak like mine. Blank eyes. I sharply gasped, flinched, and the reflection shifted shoulder-to-shoulder, sizzled in drip-circles and frittered away. My fingers were numb rubber and my feathers were sticky. I had my Giran armor again: a leather tunic, white puffs off the leather skirt.
I touched the glowing piece of my leather tunic. Peeling it back, I saw the mark on my breast was glowing with ice. Its light rays flashed and waved, as if controlled by the currents themselves. Was it looking for something?
I looked at my palms. When I saw my claws soaked with blood that wasn't mine, I shook them out and didn't dare peer at them again. Beneath me was a raft, if you could call it one—a row of seven wooden planks some idiot slammed together with nails without bothering to cover the slats. Slats. Once my instincts kicked in, there was no avoiding the panic that followed. I reached for the spear, but now it was an oar. I was lost. That's when I realized: this wasn't a river. This was an ocean!
It stretched as star-touched Winds decreed and disappeared into the thick whiteness. A bed of fog for a sky choking its faint, luminescent crescent so hard that it almost rivaled what this filthy air did to me. Was Gael up there? Somehow, I knew he wasn't. And still, I stared, waiting for him. If not him, maybe a disciple of Phyris. Please. Anybody. Did I just have that thought?
A sweep of water at my ankles as the ocean began to churn. Fins rose and fell beneath the waves. I clutched my oar and took my stance for what was probably the last fight of my life. One blade in the endless sea, I pressed forward amidst the pressure of every rib cage I've punctured into coming back for revenge. My talons dug into the raft's frail form. And then,
it rained.
A whirlwind thrashing up the waves tried my balance. Despite my best efforts, my resolve was fading. Thunder cracked, and I nearly let go of both the oar and the boat. During the flash, I thought I could see an island in the distance. This was it. One mistake, and it's all gone. I could already feel my lungs wanting to give up, but the quitter in me died the moment Apana once told me, Amara, “If you're all out of options, look for one anyway."
“GAEL!" I cried, but there was no noise, only soreness. “GAEL!" The water was rising fast, my stomach plummeting.On the surface hammered the arms of water, seaweed weighing down my raft little by little. A deafening thud-thud-thud of flailing gray fish flopped out of the ocean gnashing their teeth through the woodwork. I had to kick them away. There had to be a way to survive this!
But whatever I had to do, it was too late. The water was rising, still. I gave all that I had in one row and felt the oar snap in half. The world got colder as I inched closer to the mist. Beneath was a hill of seawater growing bigger and bigger. The raft began to wobble in a cold silence.
One last time, I looked to the sky. There was nothing.
My body lost traction. My stomach plummeted. Breezes welcomed me.
Suddenly the world plunged into darkness. I was freezing, beak-down in an umbrella of wood shards, unable to move. My one option left was to turn my head, and somehow, it gave me an answer. Down below, the black nape of a cavern was barely visible. I don't even know how I saw it; I just knew it was my only chance. When the feeling returned, I thrashed my arms towards it.
I surfaced on an alcove, gasping hard. It was a tunnel lined with torches, dripping mud. At the end of it, the cave opened up in a way only avins could do deliberately. Straw cots lay peacefully beside the walls. A fire was in the middle. And at the end was a familiar avin, tranced by the ground, chained by the ankle to the walls. He looked weary and ashamed for being there.
“We need to go," I told him. I took one of the torches and burned a link of the chain. My arms could've given out, but my pain must remain a secret. Anything to make sure the name of “Orlan" remained.
“You shouldn't be here," he croaked.
“Neither should you. Let's go."
He seemed hesitant. The chasm before us taunted with muffed chatter. Old Xianhuian, a code only learned and used by the Kreeg for battle orders. I understand that fear can breed from the unknown, but describing it as “uncanny" would have been half the puzzle. It was like going to a theater and hearing all the actors click and scrape for their dialect. I remembered, now, they used to be littered with screams—but that was after the other Giran soldiers had fled in a cloud of dust. When I passed the tattered curtain, a fork of four passages taunted our survival.
“Their blindfolds were terrible," Apana said. “I saw the left cavern takes you to their entryway. The right one goes out to the Havardan trail. I don't know about the others."
I folded, stumbled, coughing up more water. I thought I was done, but the illness was riding through me quickly. Apana cried for his dear Nuni and nearly blew our cloaks in the process.
“Do not worry!" I begged, knowing deep down he wouldn't listen.
I took my chances and went through the third.
As we trudged on, the cavern was getting frailer. I thought I heard someone whisper: “where's Amara?"
The walls were closing in. The torch was going out. Orlan and I were crawling to our knees.
I…your leg…
_ _ The rocks scraped at my own.
She can't run off like this again.
_ _ Lying on our bellies.
What else was she supposed to do?
_ _
_ _ So hard to breathe.
I know. It's hard. It's the hardest thing I've ever told her.
My rubber hand was slipping.
She must learn not to be a hero.
Apana?
…Apana?
…APANA?
Two hazy worlds collided and formed the real one for the rudest awakening. I was face down in the soil. Naked. In the middle of the Siroonian forest. Somehow, the dream made more sense than the reality.
If my feathers were matted before, I didn't know the definition. They were in patches, now, housed with bugs that I shucked off before they took hold. I had no choice but to take a quick bath in the river.
The water was hot as morning itself. It didn't make sense. Yet the way it cleansed my muscles made me accept it willfully.Winds, I don't know what it was, but it was fantastic! I dunked my head in and splashed my arms around (don't know why I did that, but okay) washing all the angles I didn't know existed. I dunked some purple herbs and rubbed it into my waist and hips, then my crotch and between my cheeks. It was like my body was veiled in light, slowly closing in between my feathers.
Arms stretched in a V, I let my eyes roll back. A damn circular lake made my eyes roll back! I was shaking. I gave my right tit a squeeze, sliding two fingers into my—
—no. There were more important things than orgasms. Of course!
It was still strange to walk out of a bath and go about my business in the buff, but my body was the only thing I had left, and that…wow, was that enough. My tits—good Avia, my tits! I couldn't stop messing with them—touching them was so addicting. Then it hit me: how long did I have to dry before nightfall? Gael might be mad. If I could describe how badly I needed it, Gael would understand.
Gael?
…….Gael?!
It took me too long to find the small trail of footprints in the mud, hardened but still fresh and then gone when the banks ended to creeping foliage. He probably went to get food? Or maybe he wanted better shelter. I tried finding a clue at the campsite, and then…oh…oh, Winds. Where was the spear? Did he take it?!
I scrambled all over the place, but didn't find it. Winds, I could smack him. Some lines in the mud implied his footsteps—my heart thudded when I realized.
Running back into the forest, I alternated between searching for footsteps and screaming at his ghost in the back of my mind. I hated worrying. No matter how much structure you may have, or how pure your ideas, it's just a voice telling you to curl up and give up, instead. It'll never outright say it, but that's what it means. True despair comes the moment you listen to it.
Facing the towering darkness of green and rustling shadows, I saw that true despair, imposing its gargantuan jaws. It hadn't hit me this hard since before joining the Guard. A child. Alone, lost. Until my Apana came out of our hut and hugged me. Now, I was no different. Apana…Gael…those were who mattered most. And I had lost both of them.
I felt the voice slip and crack on the moss-covered rocks beneath me.
Something strange happened. At one moment, the footsteps followed a reasonable path to the brighter parts. Then it took a strange right to a more dangerous, shaded part. The stems of delicate, purple mushrooms arced and weaved through the tangled roots. This made ferns and greenery seem choked in the background—definitely off track front he curling exaltas. But I wasn't thinking that way, and I'd pay for it later.
A hundred or so paces from the campsite, the trail grew confusing. Winding through strange ways, stopping and starting again ten or fifteen paces onward. Now it veered off to a denser portion of trees, most of them destroyed from insects and weathering, or survival of the fittest. At one point, the trail halted in the center of two halves of a tree, and begun again on the other side. Two feathers left on its half-stump, glued by blood. Where was he going?
Then I realized: they were a sign. Crude and haphazardly, but deep and talon-touched enough to call my name, “Amara". He had to be in this direction. That's what I chose to believe—I was still going to kill him, but I'd thank him first for the hint trail.
This part of the forest kept getting stranger. My footsteps sounded too loud by the stumps of dead trees. From a crack in one, a slew of double-horned beetles the size of my thumb poured out, buzzing their wings. Scanning this, I found the clue I'd been waiting for: Gael's tail feather tucked between two ferns.
I followed it and watched as the greenery faded to an off-green poisoned by inner shadows, its soil an ocean frozen in time. Beautiful, golden, crescented, dick shaped flowers made whistling howls as they tossed and turned in the Winds. Following them was the nostril-hooking scent of citrus and sage; it spiked down to my throat when I came near. Gael had to be using this as a hint. If he was resourceful enough to lose whoever was chasing him in the fields, then he had to use it to hide from other—
rustle rustle
I crouched low and waited for the horde of hidden paws to pass. Slowly I looked above them. Their feral, canine bodies were so huge it made the whole room darker. Their legs crunched the plants and killed their hum, like nothing at all. Orange and yellow stripes on their legs, jaws teeming with teeth. They were prowling in the distance, drooling. Their pointed noses to the sky caught no Amara-flavored Winds. He definitely used this.
The hum never stopped, though. One of them I thought was dead at my feet. A branch fell behind me, and I flinched. Its stem twitched under that new hole of sunlight. They would raise back up, in time.
I ran until my lungs were in pain. Past some shrubs was a glade with three hills sinking lower and lower to the end. Why, then, were there craters in the grass? Those javelin-sized holes were everywhere. It looked like an animal died. That's when I saw the feather. This one wasn't Gael's.
I thought maybe I lost the trail, but the strangeness kept coming. The abrasions and deep cuts followed around some mangled tree remains and down the next hills, where everything became cleaner there. Whoever was here was trying to lose a predator in the air. There were leaves all over the ground, now that I looked at it. Looks like it didn't work well. How smart was this predator? This feather…it couldn't have been…?
Another here, another there. Brown to white to blue, glistening damp with reds, their long, white stems getting longer. Following them down, seven seemed to fall in a perfect line. A growing pain was forming.
A trail turned to a litter. A litter to a massacre. My jaw left open, the clarity of where this led to growing stronger. A few littered the patch of roots beside the pair of chest-high ferns. And a few paces further, several shovelfuls of sediment shoved by a tree stump, sheared and broken next to its fallen upper limb. It was made by his feet. He'd been dragged.
Oh, Winds. My spine chilled.
At the trail's dirty end, I looked up. The great tree was tan and massive, almost Windbornlike the way it disappeared in the clouds. About three Amaras above me, I saw it: a single one of Gael's feathers surrounded by claw slashes, blood running long beneath the woodwork.
A single drip descended from its puncture. I stared at it dead in the glossy reflection. Blank eyes stared back.
I'd climbed many trees in the past. It's how I became so agile.
This one hurt just to look at. It screamed death at the top, but it laughed at me at its roots.
There wasn't a real decision to make. Gael wasn't going to save himself.
Scraped by bark, gnashed by bugs, though they grew fewer and fewer; my aching body was finally beginning to numb.
So cold. So tired. How long had it been?
Finally, a strong branch. I rested, breathed, and tempered.
Eyes locked to the tapestry of sticks above me. My heart fluttered weakly. A tight hole in the long sticks was a large doorlike entrance. That must be where Gael is.
Beneath me was a ground I could no longer see. All I saw was its canopy; a sea of leaves. This was no safe point, either. The Winds had become gales, freezing me to death. I dreaded being naked, now, my feathers on fire with cold. This place was for the Windborn, not me. If they were out here, watching…they were not welcoming.
Had I gone too far? Each branch was further apart from the rest. I'd left a honeycomb of claw incisions in the bark. There were dozens, no, hundreds of times I could have fallen, but I kept going for him. Still, I had no idea how I'd come back down.
Oh Winds. Gael. The dizziness I got from looking down made me think of him. Had something in the back of my mind forced me to rely on his wings? I could feel his scowl turn to nerves already, pacing around the interior looking for any better solution. On top of that, he could be dead already. I felt a pang of nervousness and guilt. This could all be for nothing.
Calm down. Control yourself. I closed my eyes, ignored the Wind cutters, and inserted two fingers in my pussy. It was surprisingly sexy being that cold. Ice buffeted my thighs like clawed fists ensuring they'd stay right where they are. I imagined my juices drip down to those dick shaped flowers, thinking, “That should be yours, Breezes." I hadn't believed the Winds were powerful, or even listening. I just wanted them to be kinder. Needed them. Just for this one last stretch.
When my fingers curled one way, it sent me over the edge. My thighs flexed, my knees turning inward. The hot, sensitive skin contrasted with the freezing Winds. And in the end, I felt invincible. If one thing was still true, I remained unbroken. Ready to conquer this tree.
I'd die a much less dignified way down there, anyway.
Everything in my muscles was crying out for help. My fingers jittered, having to rely on my claws for so long. I panicked. Avia was whistling. And yet the entrance was just a few paces up.
All the branches had dissipated, leaving nothing but space. My claws were wretched with chips and splinters. One open palm, fingers curled, reach up…like pushing a weight up. Then–CRACK!--down in the woodwork. One more step up…
Pain coursed in my body, my grit teeth, my neck. My left forearm made its way to the top and leveled my body until my beak was the next one up. I was nearly shrieking, but if anybody was home, I couldn't risk it. I lifted my leg. Sank my claws. Then, it slipped; a fringe piece of bark! I almost slipped. Yet my forearm was still there, still supporting, now another joins its state. Lifting my torso, now…just one more…!
Atop the small plateau, I collapsed. Gael's gonna kill me. Sweat poured from every inch of my body. I could see inside the entrance, now; it looked crowded with straw, but no movement. I let myself gasp the life back into me. My throat was so dry I could've puked. Then when I felt myself, I looked back inside.
Before me was a dark bed of straw littered with crumbs, stains and white shards. There were rings and rings of eggs. Some were the size of pebbles, others were the size of him, and all sizes in between. Something moved deep in a pile of shredded leaves towards the back. A yellow beak, crimson eyes, and a gash in his right cheek. The sight turned me to stone.
I yelled his name and ran over to him, my limbs crying in agony. I had to twist my torso to get my arms to fully yank away his blanket of straw. Beneath it, I saw he'd been slashed across the chest, abs and arms. I cursed and looked at his one wing, which was somehow in good condition, but the other one had a reopened wound. It pulled the straw back over.
“Please. I need to heal," he begged. Gael never begged.
“No. No, you've done enough healing, please, we have to get out of here!"
“Why did you come for me?"
“Because I care about you. I need you!"
That thrust him back to life. “Where do we go?"
I didn't know what to tell him. Gael's jaw was hung open, his eye twitching between me and something else. I waited, but no words ever came out. I turned and looked out to a clear blue sky.
“We'll jump," I said. “The lower tree branches will break our fall. We'll probably break a few bones along the way, but it's the only way to not end up as mincemeat. Can you feel your wing?"
It crackled the straw as it rose, bloodied but properly hinging. Still good. His other wing was more interesting. Smaller feathers grew from his wrist down to his triceps, each bigger than the last up to his armpit. They were misshapen, but still promising. He flicked them out in a natural way, just like his good arm. Maybe they could be useful?
“Come on, Gael. I'll help you up."
I hauled him through his groans and squeaks, and just like I knew, he was standing tall. Slumped, but still. Looks like he had defended himself well. His thighs, the only parts of his legs visible, only had a few cuts, and his genitals were completely unharmed.
“You're insane," Gael said.
I shrugged, feeling like stone. “Sanity doesn't make for good backup plans."
The Winds themselves curdled sharply, so I threw myself into a corner. A large shape blocked all sunlight, its small head gracing the top of the opening. The Mother bird wandered in, the beast who'd been chasing us, her talons filthy. Her great body moved its jittery, sticklike legs across the hammocklike masses of straw. In the center, a few chicks popped out of nowhere and opened their mouths. They looked rancid.
We crept around its walls, one step at a time. That's all it took. Our breaths were too shrill to be captured. I just wanted it to go away, to make this easy. Gael's fpot slipped and snapped a piece of bark off the wall.
That's when the Mother bird reared her ugly beak.
“Go, go, go!" I yelled, and I held him tight as we fell.
Gael fired burst after burst of golden light, slowing our fall on the leaves, but we still crashed through a series of branches. My back screamed in pain as I was sure we were going to die! Gael breathed in deep and thrust everything he could into the approaching ground. I snapped my eyes shut, awaiting death.
A flash over my eyelids and a howling wail like a ghost screaming in pain. I thought death would be more painful. No; this wasn't death. I opened my eyes. A tense and focused Gael was stuck in midair with both arms out, blasting the column of golden light that somehow kept us airborne. I saw he wasn't flapping his wings; it was emanating from his torso! His eyes glowed golden, as though he wasn't there anymore, but the fear in himself was clear in his spine.
As those eyes faded back to red, we collapsed. Both of us screamed! We smashed against the ground, thankfully on a part with no roots. Up there, we heard no more caws. The Mother bird had lost us in the clouds of silt.
I barely took a sigh before something punched the ground between us. When I was done flinching, I saw the spear stuck headfirst in the ground. Gael was prostrate, chest heaving in disbelief. His eyes were wide open. I couldn't blame him.
Hope was in the Breezes, smelling of spruce and honey. The roaring pain in our wounds we patched and pasted with smashed herbs, rolled-up grass mash and patience. Something, at least.
The real problem was everything else. Avia itself was resisting our trek. Any distance was a giant's walk. Hills were our worst nightmares, each step testing the strength of our calves as it squashed and stretched our bruises and bumps.
Though we'd take small victories as they'd come. More often than not, though, we'd go from holding each other up for support to lying flat on the ground, competing on who could get the other off first. He'd always win.
Our luck began to turn around the bend. There in a downward curl next to the moss covered with insects, was a curling exalta.
We sat together next to it, resting as we always did. I had his cock in my mouth when he suggested using his gusts to cool me down. So I stood up, spread my arms out, and waited. He readied his arms, swung, then tripped on a rock causing the wind to be thrown at full force. The wind made a clapping sound on impact echoing outward and sent me somersaulting back fifty feet, landing directly into a hill of soft soil, small insects exploding out from all sides.
Gael helped me up without once making eye contact. I looked back, seeing the star-jump crater I'd left behind. He was holding his beak away from me the entire trek from then to the next break, which made me angry. I always told Gael not to be insensitive.
We carried on. Still, no attention. So I started denying him, too. Even “hmph"'d out loud. That'll show him. Maybe he'll trip on another rock and conveniently waves his arms out to break his plummeting fall. That'll be my revenge, I think.
Camp was set up early. I massaged his shoulders as he sat and plucked some thorns out. We had some leaves nearby to mat the blood. Aside from that, his nude frame blended with the soil. I must've learned the right motions, because his dick was getting thicker right in front of me, Gael spreading his legs, as though aiming at the curling exalta. Though his eyes seemed to me somewhere near my foot, instead.
“What was it you did back there?" I asked.
“I don't know," he said, bewildered. “It's just something I felt."
“Was it rage?"
“I think so. That was definitely a part of it. I think it was more like focus.
“I always thought that was the opposite of rage."
“Not when you're in a fight."
I couldn't argue. I thought about riding him, but daylight was fading and I was still too hurt. When I got back with berries, he'd matted more tree leaves on more ab wounds and finished plucking the thorns out. Definitely now he was less in pain. I sat down, and he helped me, as well. As he walked around me, he was rock hard. I smacked it.
“Hey!" Gael said.
“Sorry! Couldn't help it."
We laughed over that.
“Hey, uh," Gael said coyly, “can I ask for something weird?"
“Of course, Gael, you can always do that."
“Can you give me a footjob?"
Whoa. I'd never been asked that before.
“Sure, I'll try my best!"
When he sat, he spread his legs out so wide I could see his anus. I lay like he did and extended my leg, wobbling. It was like eating soup by attaching a spoon to the end of a long stick. When I grabbed his shaft, I stroked, giving him my best smile. I brushed the callouses of my toes over the back of his tip and waited for the pre to spurt.
It'd happen any second! I cupped my fat breast and gave slower strokes, hardening my grip. On my sole I felt him harden. He even leaned back to get some man-relaxation during the show. I was getting the hang of it! I gave a squeeze and a few strokes at the tip. A good moan was the wickerberry on top–even got myself a little wet.
“You like that?" I teased.
He was tilting his hips, digging an inch deeper in the dirt.
“You, uh, kinda got the wrong angle," Gael slowly responded.
I blushed. It took a full reposition to get the motion, my shoulders and elbows flexed. My form struggled, and he chuckled the more obvious it got. I thought maybe I could save it if I messed with his balls. I got about three accidental pokes of my toe on his scrotum before we were laughing at each other. Actually, we laughed so hard that it was over. Gael had gone soft, and there was nothing but the distant forest sounds to mask the silence.
“I appreciate it, anyway," Gael smiled.
I dove in and cuddled him. “I guess I could try again some other time!"
“Still love you, babe," he shrugged.
His assurance was honest, at least. We watched tiny, red and black insects carry the leaves and dead moss away. I felt his hand on my back. Gael always had it from the start. Though maybe if he had my foot, instead, it could've been a mess on the soil. There was still plenty of room for that, though. It wasn't long before that hand was nearing my vagina, instead.
Night after night came and went. Neither of us were in any position to move. Any time we did would be weak limping to the higher ferns, holding our breaths when the predators were out. Getting lucky enough to hunt a few meals, but other than that, the wounds still stung. Spent a morning plucking all the thorns out, healing with herbs.
“We have to be stronger," Gael said. He was right.
Momentum kept us kicking. It was not a pretty sight. Backs hunched and grunting every step of the way, the spear now a walking stick. Through the passing days our wounds closed, though we still felt fragile as butt naked wanderers in the forest could be. There was work to be done, but the humiliation in our nakedness would hit sometimes, and we'd need a boost.
Don't fall for it this time, I thought. Remember your aches.
Yet pain and morale are always different. This time we lay in light-speckled fern patches, my beak choking down his masculinity while his tongue circle around my vulva. The pounding in my throat, the vertical pecking sound, “ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta" from some faraway tree—it was all too much!
I almost made him cum…almost. I had twice. He was wiping that off his face for a good while!
From then on, I made it a priority: kill his stress. Make him cum. Hard.
Turns out, those thoughts were more ravenous than they seemed. I was wet from every moment on. The Breezes tormented me for it. I desperately needed it stuffed. I wanted it raw and hard until I was gaping, then I wanted it in my mouth! The sound of his cock smacking against his thighs with each step drove me mad. Gael noticed my clit and gave a half-lidded tease at me until I was dripping. Now he was at my shoulders. Somehow him pointing at it made me even wetter—was that also an effect? Or was it something else?
It could've been him. The way he stared at my pussy lips had changed. Less hunger, more intrigue; inspiration filling his penis before his mind. Now, I could tease him. He looked silly walking around the forest like that. The long limb had come up halfway when his fingertips gently scrubbed my vulva.
We made sure the predators were gone before I played with his balls, his hands all over my breasts, kissing me. I knelt, lifted his dick up and licked him from scrotum to tip—this time, I meant it. After I toyed with the tip, I got up, pushed him back and pinned his ass against a rock wall. My hips wiggled as I turned, pushed my ass backwards and let him slide in between my cheeks.
The rush of it sliding over my anus was surprising—I never let it go there. It's too tight, but when he spreads me to look, it's like an orgasm. Instead he started thrusting quickly, fingers digging in my hips. Humping him back got some pre on my spine, my thickness milking his mind, first, with him pinned there. My tail feathers stroked his chest, but he was more willing to put them off to the side.
Looking out in the forest felt like everybody was watching deep beneath the ferns. My instincts had that tendency to look for an attack. This time, I wanted it.
He huffed and said, “Breezes, babe, your ass—"
“Just what you needed, huh?"
“Spread your cheeks."
I flustered as he saw all the pink I had. This time, I was going to make him cum! He nudged the head on my anus.
“Hey," I stopped him, “none of that. It goes in my pussy or no deal."
Two choices, Gael. Always two choices.
We smashed loud and hard rhythmically to the earthy rustles and calls. When he went slower, he brushed leafy plants on my chest which made my nipples sensitive and rushed all the way down for his warm, soaking cock. I was so turned on I could feel my tits expanding–I was about to erupt! I arched my back and cawed, my juice streaming down his dick.
My pussy was a sensitive mess clenching around his big cock. I felt like a stunned waterfall, constantly brimming from the bottom. And right when the full-body tingling wasn't enough, he pounded me again, harder, faster.
I was screaming. He fucked me until my legs were wet, shaking and giving out. He had the idea to take my ass to the ground to face him. Once lowered on his cock wondering how I was ever going to ride it, he grabbed my legs and shoved them all the way up. I squealed, laughed, and felt his pillowy head plow through all I had.
He pounded me right then and there, exposing my body to the whole forest. I couldn't move. I couldn't think! I just wanted to orgasm! Only once did he stop to reposition, then went back to it, my clit writhing all the while. I must've came three times in that position alone, constantly pouring out around him. I was shaking so bad, I didn't know how he could hold me. And after a while, finally it was him who grit his beak:
“Aagh…A-amara…"
He was so close.
When he pulled out, it was dripping. He let me lay in his lap, petting my head. Gael looked out to the woods while I basked in the afterglow.
As our bodies healed, we moved up from handwork to more complicated positions. Orgasms had become more important than the trek. Yet I could never give the same to him.
Back on the trek. The sun was hot, but not for long, and suddenly we needed an early camp. Again.
A long time, it was like this. For moments, I had forgotten about Gira. And Apana. It was the trek when it all came flooding back, and panic went on. The stress compounded until it only made sex more tempting.
I'm sorry. I have to push it aside…
I thought luck could only be trusted if the Winds were approving. We'd had luck before, but this time, it felt unfair.
One more hob-stepped trek down a hill in broad daylight landed us in a new world. The smell of citrus and a jelly sweetness took us both in flight, metaphorically. We stood with beaks open, a washing sweep of gold stretching further than our eyes could see! All the leaves were a bright yellow tinge, some amber, winding in threads across the canopy.
The grainy, maple tree bark stretched taller than Gael could fly with no branches starting until at least its midpoint. Butterflies cocooned around the upper bark portions in huge half circles; I thought at first they were giant mosses.
On ground level, the red boulders stood within hills as honeycombed and cracked fortresses where animals had burrowed their homes deep inside. You could practically see them enter and leave any time you looked. I understood. Just yesterday, Gael and I were those bugs.
For all the tumults we've had, the peace in this place seemed enriched since the day it existed. Each tree was three huts apart, their fallen leaves matting nearly all the space between them. The hills were tiny and maze-like, covered with flowers and tuñon-scented mushrooms. I knew immediately they were both edible, and that was a huge relief. Up above, the rustle of mammals and swarms of butterflies swung from each branch. Even when something fell, it all felt so put together, especially with the Winds at a neutral sway.
We took a break. Our crotches got a decent tan out there. I never thought I'd say this, but the heaviness of my bouncing boobs made me feel more, what's the word…womanly? Ladylike. Had they gotten bigger? The weight of it all together had excited me. The wide openness and lack of coverage gave me ideas. I got down on a tree, slipped a digit inside myself, cupping my left tit, masturbating in plain sight. How was I wet? We'd been in pain for so long and not a moment passed when I wasn't turned on! I waited for Gael to notice me…
He was downtrodden, gazing at his good wing. I asked him what was wrong
“Be honest with me," he said, “how did you know to find me?"
“How could I not? You went missing and I followed."
I didn't know why it was taking him so long to focus. My pussy helped. On his knees, he shifted over to my side and messed with my nipple.
“You should've left me on my own," he said, eyes on my titties. “I can't promise we won't find something like that again when we hike further. If something ever happens to me…"
“Just leave you there to suffer on your own? Seeing that must be a fate worse than death, right?"
Gael closed his eyes. “I made a mistake. That wasn't your burden to bear. You must have suffered a lot to get there."
“We're going to suffer anyway, Gael, look at us. If I plucked a feather for every time we could have died, I'd be double naked right now."
“Please take this seriously."
“I will if you finger me." I bit down, my knees buckling. Then he surprised me, bending down and flicking his tongue on my clit. “That's good. That's good. No, slower…there you go. Listen. You saved me, once, remember? When someone on the team goes down, you go and save them. Whether you meant to or not, you did everything right. If you lead a trail of feathers through a field of dick shaped flowers—"
“What did you just call them?"
“—then don't be surprised when I find the tree!"
“Mmm…Amara, I have wings and a spear. You were safe back at the lake. There were a dozen ways I could've made it out and found my way back."
“Like what? Ooh!"
“Like waiting for her to fall asleep. Climbing up a tree with your bare hands was not high on my list. All you had to do was let me heal."
A harsh caw split our ears from outside. Though there was no way it could know we're here, we shivered.
“And what if she didn't let you?" I asked.
He refused to answer. Shaking his head at an orange leaf tornado before getting his brown booty up, half hard dick swinging against his leading thigh. Thwap! I followed close by.
“I can't get this image out of my head," he grabbed his temple. “That we're too late. We've been spotted and our enemies are piling up. Any moment, the Kreeg will be here for the final blow."
“You're clucking. That's where your mind is at?! You just got kidnapped by a monster and that's what you're worried about? That's guano!"
“It's not guano!"
“What's not guano?!"
“The airship," he said, turned head and cold intent. “I saw it. I saw the airship. It was flying overhead. It got so close to us, I couldn't breathe. You could feel its shadow on top of you. As soon as it passes, though…that's the real problem. If anybody had seen a speck of me, we'd be dead meat. If they saw you…I shudder to think of the things they'd do to you."
Aggravated he'd never bring this up during sex, I reminded him, “If the Kreeg wanted to attack, they would've done it in our sleep. I have never been a part of a skirmish that didn't attack at night."
“That means nothing. Father knows we're naked. If I know anything about him, he'd burn down the whole forest just to find us before the animals do."
Though he had a good point, I don't know what was stranger: our odds of still being alive to see the end of the forest, or the fact that, “Father knows we're naked" is a sentence that just came out of Gael's mouth.
I asked, “Would they be hiding in the trees?"
He looked around. “No."
“How can you be sure?"
“I'm not."
“Do you think they've watched us fuck?"
Gael whirled around. “I–why would they do that?"
“I was thinking maybe that's why they didn't attack," I suggested, fully committing to my intrusive thoughts. “Not only is it unexpected, but since nobody has interrupted us, we must be displayable. Have you ever watched two avin make love in the forest?"
“I…uh…no."
“Are you sure?"
“I'm not even an avin, why do I get a part in this?"
“So you're saying you haven't, right?"
“Haven't what?!"
“Seen two avin making love in the forest?"
“Yes! I mean, no! I mean–"
“What about watching two avin fuck in the forest?" I waited for a response. Impatient, I added, “It's not the same thing." Gael slumped, visibly giving up.
“Six," he sighed. “Okay? Six times. Four I ran into by sheer luck, one was a cultist masturbation session in northern Xianhua, and the last was a couple that will never, ever talk about me again."
“Why? Did you threaten them?
“No, they got mauled by a tiger."
I wasn't aware those existed. All I could do was wince. “That must have been painful."
“Not as painful for them as it was for me to witness. Forget what I said. I'm paranoid that one wrong move could leave us–“
“Gael, GAEL, LOOK OUT!"
As his foot hit the ground I yanked him back by the shoulders before the net came flying upward, clicking at the top with a hook, trickling leaves on a heavy uvula-sway. Gael took two careful steps back. Thank the Breezes he did, because the rope snapped and sent the bag of rope and leaves careening back down to earth, smashing audibly.
I haven't seen someone hunt like this. This couldn't be…? No. But maybe…
“No," Gael said, reading my mind. “The Kreeg wouldn't use these. The equipment is too old. You'd just use a spike trap, anyways."
“Do you think anyone lives here?"
Gael scanned the canopy. “That's what I'm saying. If they are, they're not the Kreeg. You might have been on to something with the trees. It might be best to wait." A sudden screeching caw brought fields of goosebumps. “Either that massive thing will set them all off, or the nocturnal animals will come through and trigger them."
So they are the Kreeg?
“I thought you said these traps were old. You barely put your toe in that one and it went off."
Frustrated, he said, “That's the opposite of what that means. They're made like guano but still deadly. I think someone put these up recently and is waiting for their next lunch. We already have their attention with one, could you imagine if we set off the rest? Let's see if we can find a hiding spot away from here. It's better if they all go off before we move."
“How long will that take?"
“Two or three days."
Days?! I was frustrated, too. He acted like we're still being followed, but somehow the option here is to wait. I was clutching my spear with both hands, wanting to use it.
“There's no way around?" I tried.
“Probably, there is. But if you have a choice between walking into a death trap and not, then let nature do its thing."
I thought for sure we would end up dead. Besides, the last time Gael waited, he woke up with arrows in his back. Up a hill, we got the luck of a lifetime: sun shining on a decrepit house made of chunky stone with the roof torn off, the woodlife around it dry enough to make firewood. We could hide behind its rotten walls and wait for the traps to come loose. It was the first taste of luck we'd had in days, and it was sweet. I almost didn't trust that nobody was home, especially with what we were up against.
After a while, two or three traps went loose and startled us. Some figure walked out and got the animal stuck inside, squealing at the edge of its life. We held hands as we watched it die from afar. That was the weirdest moment of our relationship.
The figure threw the carcass down and walked off. How aggravating. We hadn't moved a muscle beyond that, still holding hands.
Our bellies rumbled under gray skies. We hadn't noticed it before, but there was a metal hatch right next to us that we promptly opened.
Inside the house was a basement. Musky, but warm even with the cold of night. The inside was surprisingly advanced, with matchsticks and a lantern for fire and a few dusty shelves containing old berries. We even found a few adhesive bandages for Gael's wounds. What on Avia? Gael was visibly delighted seeing this, hopping from corner to corner with his winged feathers pricked, but I wasn't in the mood.
“I know where I'm staying tonight!" he exclaimed.
“Don't get too excited. One of us has to keep watch, tonight, right?"
His expression grew meek. “Your night vision is better."
So much for never getting wet in the forest. Two more traps snapped off in the pouring rain, both times the figure arriving and escaping. I could feel the bags in my eyes.
I went down once to eat with him from a blackberry dish between us and warm my tail feathers by the fire. He saw me as I descended dripping wet, enjoying the view of my naked ass, I'll bet. He wasn't getting it tonight. We ate in silence. I didn't look at him. Not once.
Back outside, the pale blue forest looked more like a painting. I was freezing, but at least it was dry, now. The only thing to do was keep still and passively play with my titties under the wall's limits. It dawned on me how often I was doing it.
It's guano. The whole thing is guano.
I grabbed my spear and headed out.
He's wrong. These traps aren't built to last the night. Even if they were, I'd seen them before him—what did he know? To be truthful, I hadn't stopped thinking of the first one. If they could be set off that easily, then we could set them off by accident.
I grabbed a couple stones and waded out. Kept my distance from the trees and aimed. Threw a couple. Ropes snapped, leaves shuddering to the zipline of frayed rope. I had already gotten three.
Though the rain was an obstacle, it wasn't a big one. I picked up another stone and readied my arm. Maybe I should back up, I thought. I gave a close view of the following tree while I took two steps back. No, three. Four. Fi–
Jumping forward, the net scraped my back claw and yanked it up as it ascended. I fell and hadn't shut my beak quick enough, crying out in pain and surprise. Moments later, the bushes rustled. Someting was growling behind a near rock wall. I still could hardly move. It was big, blueish orange and six-legged, canine in form, eight fangs preening from its upper jaw. The same time of its jumped, the thumping footsteps from behind came to its own.
“YAAAH!"
I saw Gael sail above me with a burst of wind, smashing the beast back. He sent out three more bursts before it gave in, seeing him as a stagnant wall. As it ran off, Gael turned to me with a grimace.
“Don't do that," he said.
I didn't mind the wait, anymore. It was daytime, now. When the hatch creaked open, I shushed him anyway. He hadn't spoken.
“You okay?" he asked.
My arms folded on the stone block. “It stopped raining, at least."
He climbed out and took a seat next to me. “Want to see a little trick?" In his hand was a candle. He held the little white flicker of the candle around my wings, and raised his still-healing arm in an L up to it, concentrating. In time, a light gust of wind blew from it, warming a small circle of my waist. He gave me a meek smile. A better mood, at least.
“Cool, right? I learned it just…" He read me. “Look. I just wanted to say sorry. I've been snapping at you a lot, and that isn't okay. I've been around this forest for too long…which I imagine gets the best of me. It's not that I don't know how to deal with this, it's that—"
I slumped into my arms, defeated in emotional confusion. “It's okay, Gael. I get it. I worked it out already. If I just ran out there on my own, I'd probably have been caught."
“That's kind of why I came out here."
We sat together and waited. Gael repeated his apology about four more times before he sat on his knees and gazed into the aether. That stress he let linger is what slowed us down in the first place. Though I decided I'd take misery with a partner over me and my thoughts. His thigh nudged against mine by accident. Chilly feathers. It was hard to dwell on uniquely bad decisions with this sexy, naked man living out the same danger right next to me. The day was warm. It felt wrong for us not to be fucking.
I made a glance between his legs—"just for the rush," I thought. Never did it cease to amaze me how gigantic Gael's cock was, even with the cold Winds. Arced out and thick as three long digits, its big head reaching the ground at mid-thigh, all while soft. I started doubting how it even fit. Had we both gotten bigger? Or was that just an illusion? Therein lies my biggest secret. The way it sabotaged my mind and distracted me from the brooding points of his personality. I realized it in a split second and turned away, grimacing. It wasn't all at him.
I said, “That first night when you told me we couldn't go back. For me, that's when Avia disappeared. All I ever knew and trained to do was leading up to this forest. If I'd been told earlier this would happen, I would've tried to be less selfish. How many faces have I forgotten by now? I don't know. I hope they're all right. It's just the path ahead that counts, and I'm not even sure we're doing that right."
He solemnly watched me. “Hey, don't do that to yourself. You've done great. You saved my life twice, now."
“And once, you saved mine. Can we go one day without being indebted to each other? I'm so sick of this forest. No matter how far you go, it's always the same threats. I never thought anything Siroonian would be crawling with so much death and disease. How have we not gotten sick yet?"
“Don't call attention to it."
“Right, I won't jynx it. I feel like…"
Death?
“...I don't know what to feel anymore, actually." It was best to leave it at that.
We kept waiting for a trap to ignite, but it never happened. The night was as boring as it came. I think he knew that, the way he was back to eyeing me up.
He said, “Hey. You look amazing, by the way. "
I was quietly feeling his words. “Thank you."
“You know, some avin claim they look like they just got out of bed when they're feeling bad. You fell through a tree, and you're still the prettiest thing in the forest. I don't know how you do it, but no matter what kind of fight you get into, you still look amazing. And that's…well, that's also what I've admired."
Was he saying I hadn't changed? I searched the dead air for a topic and found it embedded within his chest. The dark patches from his chest to lower abs like giant bruises. Maybe that's what he meant. The physical changes write themselves. What if you decide it isn't a good story?
“The scars are sexy, at least," I said.
He chuckled blankly. “If you squint, maybe!"
“Scars are sexy, Gael."
“Right." Best not to talk about them.
I said, “Hey. You know what weeks of having to walk around naked in the forest has taught me?"
“Good hygiene?"
I laughed. “No. It's that if you do anything long enough, you'll end up looking like everybody else. Either you get so good at it that it doesn't feel like anything anymore, or you settle in one place and join everybody else in the struggle. Do you ever feel that way?"
“Like an animal? Yeah. I still get urges to fix the roof when I wake up. I grew so attached to that impulse. It was the first time in ages I could make something that lasts for somebody else. Some things don't change, though. Every time I wake up naked on the soil feeling like a savage, I look to you, first. Then it's not so bad. You know?"
“I do. But for the record, you're always allowed to be hard around me." I touched his arm. “Back home, no matter what I did, I still felt like a regular Giran, instead of being whoever my Apana was. I was missing the point. Being Giran itself was the reward."
“Hold on. It's not a reward to be Giran. You could have left any time you wanted to."
“I guess so? Even if I didn't, the war would move me out, anyway."
“It would, but that's not what I'm saying. Being Giran is just where you were to start. It's as much of a reward as me being Xianra, which is none at all. We're not born with rewards."
“We're born with advantages, though."
“True. Not that it matters." He slumped to the stones. “Now that we've almost been ripped to shreds twice, we're basically no different from the animals that live here."
“Well, being an avin has to count for something, right?"
“No."
“Gael."
“It doesn't."
“Gael. It does. Even if you leave your culture behind, you still have to take it with you. If it's not too selfish to say, I think I understand you a bit more. What it's like to leave it all behind. I'm still confused, though. Is it a miracle to be alive, or a curse to be here in the first place?"
Gael thought for a long time, peering around for an answer. “There's a saying I tell myself whenever I think of the Kreeg. Or my…father. I really, really didn't want to tell you earlier, but it's something I repeat to myself a dozen times every day."
“What's that?"
“Everything has to end eventually."
He let it sink in. It was probably hard to say that while looking me in the eye, but it was somehow impressive.
"If the Kreeg didn't get rid of Gira, it would've been someone else," he said. “And you said being an avin is important, right? In that case, you're more important than I'll ever know. You get to carry their story for the rest of your life. You're its longest standing flagbearer. Being a Windborn isn't exactly a leg up on that."
Not convinced. I glanced diagonally down. “You've always had a leg up on me." It truly looked like a third leg.
“Well, between you and the forest, all of them have been put to good use," he smiled meekly. I watched it twitch.
When he put his arm around me, I used his shoulder as a pillow. I couldn't believe the next thing to come out of his mouth. I thought it was an apology, but it turned into something that'd stick with me for a while. It's one thing I like about men. You spend an afternoon with them, and they'll find a way to blurt out something that'll change your whole perspective. I wasn't thinking of that on his shoulder that day.
“Listen. I shouldn't have been so blunt with you on the first night. You were living through something impossible. And when I saw that look in your eye, I wanted to show you how to let go. There's beauty out there somewhere. If life were perfect, you'd lose everything for a day, cry about it for a month and realize that's how it was going to end up, anyway. Better to start appreciating what you have. Admittedly, I'm not good at it, myself I miss Gira, too. What else can you do but move on? Not every battle was built to last. That's why we're still alive, I think. And that's why I'm still with you."
With time, I didn't feel like slouching.
“Where'd you learn that from?" I asked, half-talking about his rhetoric.
“Losing. At some point, though, as crazy as it sounds, I got used to it. Now I've got something I didn't have—somebody to trust. A friend I can always rely on. A friend who understands me. A friend who won't stop looking at my dick instead of listening to me."
I chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “You know I'm still listening, knucklehead!"
“Vaguely."
He relaxed into me and snuggled. The Winds howled and made the leaves skitter, but I wasn't cold. The butterflies became so much clearer in the tiny pinch of moonlight. Gael himself felt like a new avin–Windborn, I mean. When the gaps were so close, you could call him anything and he'd still be closer to me than any avin I've met.
“You think we're just lucky?" he blurted.
“Lucky to be alive, at least." I rested my head on his abs and watched his sex come alive. “You want to get even luckier?"
It didn't take much convincing. I grabbed his penis and led him over to the pond at an earlier outcrop where we'd stopped to drink. The pasty soil by the banks squished under our feet as we watched the fish jump. We saw little sprouts and mossy beds covering all the rocks. Gael was unsure about it the way he looked around, but his pre on my wrist said otherwise.
“You're not allowed to get soft now," I hushed; the tone we'd keep throughout the morning. First I fondled his balls and let his erection grow and bounce. My tongue on the underside of his shaft and my slow strokes made his face twist. The pond's water sloshed at the same time Gael's pre hit my forehead. My vagina leaked, Winds shearing the folds. And my tits…Breezes, they were so sensitive! He must've felt it, too, fondling and squeezing the right one.
“Your, uh…your boobs," he said all wide eyed.
“What?"
“Your boobs got bigger, I think. I didn't want to say it."
Did they really? Was that…the water that did it, or me? Either way, he was mesmerized.
The chirps, breeze and howls all accompanied us. By sheer masculine prowess, he plucked an aloe herb from complete darkness and wringed out its thick gel in between my mounds. I squeezed his cock around me, its thick juices squelching, a syrupy run down my tits. He was right–they had fully enveloped his cock, and the sight of it left him throbbing. I rolled them up and down, squeezing him so hard it was practically daring him to cum.
His eyes were squinting now as he gently thrusted into the warm, rolling titfuck, watching the thick drips roll off as though he already came. I watched him wince each time his tip sank and emerged from between them. It was crazy how the primal senses kicked in when they needed to. It hit me that by now we'd spent weeks completely naked in the forest. He followed my tight ass, dick flopping around as he thought about what he'd do to me. No wonder we'd gotten used to this. Maybe he needed a reminder?
“Do you remember when we did this in the wheat fields?" I teased.
“Y-yeah…"
“I bet if my tits had been this big, you would've cum all night long. Or maybe you'd rather do it in broad daylight, huh? All those avin watching you fuck me…."
After the highest pitched moan I'd ever heard, his hot ropes smacked my beak, neck and boobs over and over again as I laughed at him. Even as he came, I kept jerking him. He was so embarrassed, and it was disappointing, but I didn't care. His cock drooped but hardly softened, like that look on his face.
He said, “I gotta make it up to you."
“For Wind's sake, Gael, have some fun for once."
“Right. Could I, uh, try your thighs, to start?"
My answer was a smack to his cock and a turn to squeeze my legs around him. It took some fooling around, but he found the spot. He gripped my hips with vigor, the front walls of my vagina tingling. Each time he pulled back, the fatter part of his head would brush my clit, and it felt incredible. I was leaking, and the more I did, the harder he rammed my thighs. He sifted in the feathers of my belly, stroking my hair, trying to keep his cool. Though he wouldn't be this horny if he didn't want my pussy so bad. The stress, weather and pent up stature all combined for it. When you let a man work for his seed, it's a conjugal act. Sometimes, though, you just know it's time for him to take the reins. This time, I'd let him have his way with me.
He hushed at me: “You want it? I'm ready."
And I hushed back: “I know, me too. Put it in."
Around and up I went into his strong arms, the power of the Windborn rushing through me. I almost came immediately when he teased the tip. My thighs locked around his hips as he buried inside me. Breezes, I needed this! He was splitting me in two. Using the weight of my fat thighs and hips and pounded me into him, impaling me to the cervix. I squealed and gave a nibble on his neck—I don't squeal, I just needed him to hear it.
The forest was alive with sex. As we fucked, the butterflies circled around us, as if cloaking us from predators, but in that moment, I was his prey.
We'd never been so connected to each other's bodies. My tight grip was milking the life out of him, and I couldn't stop firing into it. Gael was here, he was alive, and he was fucking me out in the open, tearing my pussy apart until we were nothing but waterfalls. I was addicted to his balls slapping against me. My rocking up and down became a rhythm as natural as walking, my vagina raging with orgasm after orgasm that I so, so desperately needed. I was alive in that moment. Thriving. Tossing.
We got extremely carried away. By the time he pulled out, letting all the cum flow to the ground, the sun was coming up. We freaked out once, realizing the spear was back at the building, but it was easy to retrieve. After that, it was just afterglow and a final check.
Too many of the traps had been triggered to ignore. All that sex ironically hyped up energy in us instead of taking it away. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. But the two of us were kindred with the same idea: run. Run right now and don't look back.
And so we did.
It was strangely beautiful. Stupid, even. Darts were impaling the ground around us, but whatever magic propelled us forward was the same magic that kept us alive for all this time. As the yellow-obsessed forest turned back to a neutral green, Gael and I shared a smile. We held hands on the last of our run, with just one look back to admire it.
Night fell in the blink of an eye. Around us was a ring of trees with windows leading out to infinite shadow, oozing fear, yet our sweat drenched us more. Camp was rough. We couldn't get a good fire going since the logs were too wet. We had to rely on mostly body heat and a spark, which at least kept us close.
I could feel Gael shivering. I knew he was still hung up on the Kreeg. Cold was the night, but he was crass like that. You could give him everything in a day and he'd still walk like they'd etched his skin with misery. I couldn't stand it sometimes. Saying the Kreeg would find us is like finding a needle in a haystack, and they weren't about to take us over a fourth of Avia. Though a sacrifice of muscle and bone for a promise is something you'd only come to terms with in gurneys—whether you were in it, or a witness. He'd been bloodied before, so that makes twice he'd chanced the same luck, at least.
Our firepit was a dot of light in darkness. I was thinking about him and my dream. The voice. The voice was still there. I thought I felt it die on the moss, but here it was. Even with Gael, my warmth and muscle, nothing was the same. That's when something dawned on me. The Kreeg existed on the other side of the country; how would they even have time to set up the traps? That would mean they've attacked Siroon before.
That's it. With everything in flux, who is there left to trust? No amount of experience could stop a betrayal. Even if he could cover his wings, his constant nudity made him a target. Torture, chains, humiliation—all real possibilities. For me, danger is defined as anything that can kill, which is most things when there's work to be done. As long as he labels that danger as “the Kreeg," he avoids trouble. It must be stressful when put that way. In that sense, the hooded figure we saw was still with him. Watching. I'm not being poetic—the stress of anyone lurking was constant unless I was sucking his cock. For him, this must be what it's like to run. Hunt, or be hunted. Our bare asses could barely outrun the feral predators, after all. Fate was another thing entirely.
Flattering, you know? The only two legs he trusts are those he's allowed to spread.
“You okay, Amara?"
Oh, Winds. He saw me rubbing myself.
I flustered, “It's not that I don't care, or…"
“Are you sure?"
My beak opened and he was already climbing to knees and arms atop me, slapping his hard dick next to my clitoris. “I can help with that, you know. If—if you want."
I said, “Destroy me. You know the drill."
The sex was okay. I don't know; I wasn't myself. When I thought of how full I was, I remembered the caverns. When I faked an orgasm, I thought of the ocean. The only thing keeping me in the twilight was Gael's silly little “every word is one word" talk:
“_Huff…huff…_babe…babe,I'mgonnacum. Iwannacumonyourtits,canIcumonyourtits?"
“I know you meant 'between', big guy."
Really? He was still thinking of them? When the sword unsheathed I felt his balls above my navel, drips flinging out of nowhere. Licking my beak, I pressed my breasts together. The head of his dick wrestled between my tit-crack and pushed, pushed, pushed, sliiiide and eased. I was shocked I had engulfed him all the way.
Six thrusts, and the salty dam was broken, drenching my feathers as I moaned aloud: “Yes, yes!", and Oh! Winds!, I felt nothing from it.
It just felt good to have something warm on my chest. Secretly, it felt better to know he still enjoyed me.
That dream. You rarely remember a dream. Apana's words and the ocean were one in the same; neither of them left me. Things were still as hazy as they seemed. Maybe that was Gael when I guided him out of the atrocious nest in the sky. The caverns happened, definitely, but they weren't closing in on us. Maybe that was what our connection felt like, slipping in opposite directions in the dark.
Or maybe I was Gael, watching myself grieve, lost and naked in the pouring rain clutching the spear of the bleeding Kreeg soldier knowing I could never go back to the way things were. I was leading us out to the forest, flexing my knowledge of its paths just enough to survive, but not enough to be sure. Or maybe the cavern was the semicircle of trees Gael would fuck me all night around.
Or maybe I was just me. No matter how you interpret it, they were all dead ends with miracles resting in its jaw. Every connection severed, but somehow mended in the end.
Orlan and Gael felt like similar stories. Two wildly different relationships built to last until the end. In misplaced aethers, the voice remains and splits us apart, but the two of us appreciated our lives enough to outlast the impossible. I was cold, naked and still leaking seed, a few splinters on my ass. Gael was worse when I found him. And yet, despite it all, we were alive.
I didn't have to guess it, I simply knew. Orlan was still out there, thrashing against the current.