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Exhausted though the traveling rogue was from the whirlwind of a day, and indeed, the whirlwind of the past several days of their trip crossing from Sinoe into Echo, sleep eluded Martin. How could he expect to sleep, when the thought of rendezvousing with Madame Arbour loomed so close, yet just out of reach? How could he expect to sleep, when the thought of being lured into a trap custom made for him seemed to lurk in the shadows? Additional concerns tugged at the corners of Martin’s mind, too. Images of the haggard fauns in the prison wing where he had found Namo still burned brightly in his mind. Even Al-Kutami’s treatment of Namo seemed just a bit off in comparison to Martin, though whether it was simply because Martin had more to offer the magnate than did Namo, or some more unjust reason, Martin couldn’t put his finger on. Needless to say, though Namo was the first Kepmuu the human had met, the Sinoean had already found striking cultural differences between the egalitarian communities of his home continent and the more xenophobic society of Echo.

Martin tossed and turned on the mattress that was far too massive, plush, and well-dressed for him to be comfortable, the satin sheets tangling against his bare limbs like fetters. The dim moonlight that filtered through the gap between the thick floor-length curtains to his left provided barely enough light to see by, despite his eyes having adjusted to the darkness. And yet, while the fullness of his mind may have served to complicate his insomnia, the emptiness of the room could be identified as the true culprit behind his inability to sleep. This night marked the first time in over a month that the man had slept more than a few meters away from Namo, and even though her room was located nearly adjacent to his, he nevertheless felt as though she may had been on the other side of Echo. To make matters worse, he had hoped confessing his feelings toward the woman would serve to calm the maelstrom of emotion that threatened to erupt from his breast. At first, it had, to be fair. But over the course of the day, the solitude, which had only a couple months ago been his closest friend, was now suffocating. Only now, he wasn’t sure what would quell his internal storm—having her near kept the maelstrom at bay. With her absent, its torrent raged within him.

Martin lied on his left side, facing the window as a mellow, yet gelid breeze caused the curtains to sway and cast dancing shapes in the moonlight across the bedroom floor. From behind him, Martin heard the near-silent unlatching of the door to the bedroom and bolted upright in the bed. He turned to look at the intruder, bedcovers spilling off of his bare chest, only to find Namo standing in the doorway, hair braided up for the night and clutching a blanket around her body. He swallowed, knowing that, based on her previous sleeping habits, that she likely wore not a shred of clothing beneath the makeshift bodywrap.

“I can’t sleep,” she murmured simply.

“Me neither,” Martin’s equally simple reply spilled out, stunned as he was at apparently summoning Namo with his thoughts.

“Can—can I come in?”

“Sure,” the man said flatly, unconsciously trying to conceal how much he had hoped she’d ask.

The faun closed the door behind her with a muted click and plodded over to the bed, her hoofsteps muffled by the plush rug beneath her. Martin scooted over, allowing the woman ample space to climb onto the oversized mattress next to him. She tossed aside the blanket she had worn into the room after curling under the sheet next to him and wrapping her arms around the man as if he were a precious stuffed toy. She sighed, as if being near the man was the first source of relief she had experienced all day. Martin could empathize with the sentiment, and he wrapped his right arm around her, pulling her a bit closer.

“What’s on your mind, Namo?” Martin inquired, knowing that, while her insomnia was nothing new, that perhaps talking about what troubled her would put both of them more at ease.

“A lot,” Namo replied. “Too much. So much I don’t even know where to start.”

“Just pick something, then.” He looked over at her: she stared at the ceiling blankly, before screwing her eyes shut for a moment.

“Alright.” The faun took a deep breath: inhale, pause, exhale. “I tried to just get over it and move on, but I can’t. I’m still thinking of the Kepmuun who tried to hurt us. Every time I close my eyes, I see the anger on his face. I never told you what he said to me—what he screamed to me, anyway.” She rubbed at the cut on her neck. The grim reminder of her brush with death was well on its way to healing completely, but the emotional scar it left would likely run far deeper. “He said that the Amonuunkep caused his village suffering and that I was a traitor for working with them.”

“What do you think he meant by that?” Martin asked. “Do you think maybe Afzal and the other bandits had something to do with what he said?”

Namo shook her head, her braid of flaxen hair rubbing against her human’s shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m worried about that possibility. If that was the case, and we killed him when he was just trying to defend himself, I…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Hey, Namo, don’t go that route,” Martin was quick to counter. “We weren’t trying to kill him. We were just trying to defend ourselves.”

“I know, but…” she rotated slightly to face Martin while still lying down. “He had a family. People prob’ly counted on him. We didn’t even give him a proper burial.”

Martin resisted the urge to interrupt her, instead just draping his hand on the top of her bare shoulder comfortingly.

“I know we had to protect ourselves, I just… I just wish it coulda been different, ya know? I wish we could have talked him out of violence. There’s too much in this world.”

“I thought the same thing after it happened, Namo,” Martin said. “Literally the same thing. I wish I had an answer to feeling bad about it. But maybe, just this once, feeling guilty about it is a good thing, as long as we don’t let it control us. Maybe we can prevent something like that happening in the future.”

“Maybe. I hope so. I’ve… I’ve seen enough folks bein’ taken away to last one lifetime,” Namo murmured, and Martin understood that she referred to the loss of life of her friend and the others in Benuun.

Martin let the silence hang in the air, to give them both a chance to contemplate the discussion. He felt his eyes drift closed for several moments before he was surprised awake by Namo nuzzling into his neck unabashedly. Firmly buried into the crook of his neck, she muttered something unintelligible, her hot breath washing over his skin.

“I concur,” Martin said, an smirk on his face as he angled his head to try and look at the faun as she took a deep breath against his chest.

Namo pulled her head from the crook of the man’s shoulder. “What does that mean?”

“Means ‘I agree’.”

“That don’t make any sense,” she replied. “I wasn’t askin’ a question or nothin’.”

“I couldn’t understand what you said,” Martin explained. “It was a joke.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, then giggled softly. “I see whatcha did there.”

After a pause, Martin continued: “So are you going to repeat what you said or am I meant to be kept in suspense?”

The woman nuzzled the side of his face, her floppy ear rubbing against his beard. “I said I finally learned your second name.”

“Oh yeah?” Martin retorted, playfully. “What is it, then?”

“It’s Halsted. I heard ya say it yourself.” The smugness in her voice made clear that she was very pleased with her perspicacity.

“Well done. Only took you, what? A month and a half?” Martin prodded.

Lifting her face off of Martin’s shoulder, the faun retorted: “Well how else was I s’posed to figure it out! Not like I can read your mind or nothin’!” Her volume far exceeded that necessary for the situation.

Martin shushed her. “I’m just teasing you. I’m proud of you, Namo.” He hoped she didn’t interpret it as patronizingly as the compliment had sounded.

“Maa’ko Haa’ko,” Namo muttered to herself, suppressing additional giggles. “Maybe I should call you that from now on, Maa’ko Haa’ko.” Her fingers made grasping motions at his sides, almost tickling but not quite.

Is she teasing me? Martin wasn’t about to fall for the bait. “Do whatever makes you happy, I guess,” the man said with a shrug.

“Ya sure about that?” she replied. A threat, or a bluff?

He called her on it. “Sure, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” Without further warning, Namo used her leverage on her human companion to roll on top of him, pinning his chest to the bed beneath the bedsheets. In an instant, she was staring down at him, her naked body poised above him like a vicious, herbivorous predator. Martin could only gape at the way the indigo moonlight painted her grinning face in periwinkle highlights, and the way the modest swell of her chest was impossible to avert his eyes from. He decided not to resist the urge to stare, but before he could think to compliment her beauty, she leaned into his face, pecking it with rapid-fire kisses.

Martin couldn’t help but laugh at her exuberance as she practically slavered over him, then, noticing his arms were still free, used them to hold her head still for a moment. Her large floppy ears threaded the crook of his thumb as he clutched the sides of her head. Holding her head in place, he stared into her eyes, as he was wont to do for the certainty he found in them. “You’re beautiful, Namo,” he stated, the simple fact all the more powerful because of its sincerity. “In spite of the ugliness that we have often found ourselves in, you’re beautiful, Namo.”

All of the upper arm strength in the world could not keep the magnetic force of Namo’s lips crashing into Martin’s. The paprika and clove taste of her lips returned, familiar and welcome from the night previous. Namo was hungry, eager for the man’s affections. He pressed his tongue against her lips and felt her recoil only a hair before leaning into the man’s affections and bidding him access so the man could let his tongue dance with hers. The woman exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly enticed by his actions. She all but sucked on the man’s tongue, a gesture which threatened to deprive Martin of much-needed air. He reluctantly broke the kiss, pulling her away from his beard. The stirring in his loins threatened to spoil any semblance of chastity that remained from the moment. The dampness around his mouth from their shared saliva betrayed that there was very little chastity that could be said to remain.

“Why’d you stop?” The woman pleaded, nearly breathless.

Martin had two options, which warred like the proverbial devil and angel over his supine shoulders. Apologize and back off, his better judgment implored. Or, give her what he knew they both wanted, his selfish desires tempted. A third option emerged however. He couldn’t ignore his biological imperative. He squeezed the skin of the faun’s ribs, startling her with a quiet yelp and giving him the opening he needed to roll the two of them over so that he was on top of her, his underwear-clad hips straddling her waist. He swallowed. “Namo, I—I want to touch you,” he managed to stammer out. “Is that okay?”

He worried for an instant that the implication would be lost on the faun, but she seemed to know exactly what the man meant. Her chest heaved. “I want you to touch me too” Eloquence was lost to the winds as desperation soaked through the woman’s voice. Namo raised her arms, crossing them behind her head, exposing her chest in an unmistakable invitation to explore her body.

The human was eager to accept. He caressed his faun’s sides in a gentle upward stroke before settling on her shoulders, kneading them softly and causing the woman to emit a groan of delight. He shifted his grip slightly every few strokes, trying to find new ways to release the tension from the time they had spent on the road. Though her shoulders lacked the thick fur present on other parts of her body, he found their texture reminiscent of velveteen thanks to the sparse, transparent fuzz that covered them. Leaned over her as he was, Martin caught the musky scent of the capreoline woman, that pleasant, loamy scent he had grown so fond of, as if the faun woman had taken in some of the essence of the botanical realm she was so fond of. His faun twisted her head to the side, her chest beginning to heave as she breathed deeply. The motion exposed the unmistakable fluff situated between her modest breasts as if beckoning him to sink his fingers into its depths. Martin responded to the invitation with gusto, lacing his fingers through the strands of hair. Though the chest fluff grew coarse and dense the deeper he sank his digits into it, he prodded deeper to feel the soft undercoat beneath, eliciting a contented sigh from the woman.

Not wanting to keep his other hand idle, he rebalanced on his elbows to cup the underside of one of her breasts. Namo, who had closed her eyes in relaxation, eeped and twitched in surprise as the man gave the woman a tactile appreciation of her body. Martin hoped he was being gentle enough, but nevertheless had to force himself to slow down and savor her body and her reactions to his touches. He sank his other hand deep enough into her fluffy chest to press against her sternum, effectively pinning her to the bed in a subtle display of dominance. The motion was not lost on Namo, who moaned, eyes screwed shut, and shifted her hips upward in a wanton display of arousal. Her stiffening nipple against his other palm served to corroborate that the woman seemed to enjoy the treatment. He felt a part of himself stiffening as well, through his underwear; given that their hips were nearly flush, he imagined she realized this, herself.

Martin decided that Namo needed additional stimulation, and bent over to take her mouth in another kiss, still pressing her into the mattress as she welcomed his tongue into her mouth. Namo’s hands, which had remained mostly idle, ruffled Martin’s shaggy hair to try and pull him closer to her, as if she could somehow lessen the distance between them even further than the intimate contact they shared. The woman sucked firmly on his tongue, her hunger for him surprising the man. He tweaked her nipple in a show of friendly defiance, which only served to spur the mischievous woman on further, but she nevertheless broke the kiss by pushing against his chest to gasp out his name. “Ah, Maa’ko… I need you. I feel you against me… I want to feel more. Take off your clothes!” Her assertiveness caught the man off guard, but what was even more disarming was how she reached toward his waist and started pulling down the man’s shorts without so much as waiting for his response.

“Hold on, hold on,” the man said, suppressing a chuckle. “I can do it.” He slid the waistband of his underwear down, his mostly-erect member springing free from the confines of the trousers. Namo made to grab at him but missed as the man spread the woman’s legs, tangled as they were in the bed linens.

In the dim light of the moon, Martin marveled at the woman’s intimate anatomy. The tawny fur on her groin, hips, and thighs, terminating just above her waist, mostly concealed the woman’s modesty from view. As he brushed the fur aside, he noted that the form of her vagina was distinct from what limited experience he had with human women, though it seemed as though she had all the requisite parts: large, puffy, hairless labia, slightly parted to reveal a small opening, flushed red with blood and glistening in the indigo moonlight in apparent arousal. Most strikingly distinct from the high school sweetheart he had fooled around with was the presence of a triangular protuberance that extended from the top of her labia. The man supposed that it may have been an erogenous zone. Do fauns have clits? The man wondered to himself.

Martin’s gaze trailed lower, to the round base of her pussy. There was a small patch of bare skin between her folds and her pinkish tailhole, which contracted and relaxed once, then twice, alongside her labia just above. Further below , bare skin continued in a narrow strip for several centimeters before giving way to the tawny fluff of her leaf-shaped tail, twitching back and forth as if bashful about his intentions. Namo gave an impatient shift of her hips that jolted Martin back to the moment.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart?” The man asked his faun. The pet name felt nice to use. “It’s, uh, it’s been a while for me.”

The faun nodded. “Yes, please, I, um, think so. I mean, yes, I’m sure!” She spread her legs further for the human, cupping her hands underneath her thighs. Martin pumped his member with a few more strokes at her display of unbridled desire, firming up rapidly watching his faun bare herself for him. He decided he was ready and shifted forward, leaning his weight against the faun’s fluffy nethers. With haphazard thrusts, his cock brushed against the woman’s puffy slit; the man relished in the electric closeness he felt through the direct contact of their intimate areas. His skin rubbed against her skin and fur, leaving damp trails from their combined moisture. As he stroked upward, pressing his crown against the the pointed prepuce at the apex of her pussy, Namo jolted, her breath catching and legs contracting around Martin on reflex. He pressed against her again, hot and welcoming like a sauna on a frozen night, causing a smaller contraction from the woman; her flesh was pliable here, and the blunted tip of the triangular nub kissed his urethra, as if it sole purpose was to provide such stimulation.

Nevertheless, Namo grunted impatiently, and Martin took the hint. He lined himself up against his faun, spreading her outer lips with one hand, and pressed himself inside her welcoming, sweltering flesh with the other. Or, at least he tried. The man managed to sink in just past the head of his cock, lavishing in the exquisite sensations of her inviting tunnel, before Namo hissed, though whether in pain or bliss he couldn’t be sure. He gingerly tried to insert himself further only for the woman to yelp and exclaim “Too much! Too much!”

Martin reluctantly removed himself from her warm, tight confines, rock hard and cloudy headed, but still regretful. “Shit, I’m sorry. Are you OK?”

Namo made a noise somewhere between a coo and a groan that the human interpreted as stemming from a cocktail of pleasure and frustration. “Yeah, yeah. Try again. Go slow!”

Martin did as the woman asked, lining himself up again. This time, he leaned over the woman, bracing himself on his other arm, and sank once more into her impossibly tight folds—with less urgency, this time. She contracted around the man as he neared the depth he reached before, and Martin felt the slickness of her folds constricting his glans in a way that nearly sent stars through his eyes. It was all the man could do to not buck his hips out of reflex. “Shit, Namo, that feels amazing,” he breathed in her floppy ear. The force of his breath caused it to flick, as if on reflex. “You good? Can I keep going?”

“Mmm-hmm,” the faun replied, uncertainty and need equally thick in her voice. Martin took the cue as a signal as close to what he could expect for a green light as possible, and pressed deeper. However, he barely pressed a centimeter further before she hissed and uttered a breathy “Stop! Too much!”

This time, Martin stopped, but kept himself still inside her contracting pussy. He throbbed inside her on reflex, but otherwise remained still. “You’re too big, Maa’ko!” The woman exclaimed, more simply making an observation than accusing him of any wrongdoing. Nevertheless, the exclamation took the man by surprise. He didn’t consider himself particularly knowledgeable regarding penis sizes, but never figured himself as anything other than average.

However, one thing was certain: the faun was vice-tight around the man’s length. He knew for sure he hadn’t bottomed out yet, so perhaps she just needed a bit of coaxing to relax a bit to let him press deeper in.

But it seemed the woman had other plans. “Can—can ya just stay that deep? Or not go any d-deeper?” She practically begged, breathing ragged. “It feels so good right now. But it hurts any farther.”

“Mmh. Alright.” In truth, as much as the man wanted to fully sheathe himself inside his faun lover, he couldn’t deny that the pleasure embracing the distal third of his member was intoxicating enough on its own. And so with a tender, shallow stroke, the man retreated from the vestibule of her pussy until only his crown pulsed at her entrance, depositing a healthy trail of pre just inside her tunnel to add to the accumulation of natural lube they had both already been producing. He began a gentle, careful rhythm of shallow strokes, his arms postured on his elbows on either side of the faun’s head as boiling pleasure and emotional intimacy coursed through them both. He made eye contact with his lover, until she was forced to close her eyes through the ecstasy he caused her on a downstroke. Martin seized the moment to bring her into another heated kiss, his lips locking with hers messily. Their sloppy, smacking spit swap provided suitable, if somewhat embarrassing, accompaniment for the slick sounds of Martin’s cock pistoning within Namo’s pussy. Staccato grunts and mezzo-soprano moans passed from Namo’s throat into Martin’s whenever he pumped into her, the faun producing sweet music even amidst the throes of lust.

Their lovemaking, as shallow as it was, felt like an uncoiling of a spring within Martin of the sexual tension between the two of them even as his pleasure coiled another spring. Namo panted into his mouth before he broke the kiss. Her outer labia stretched around him with every upstroke before being compressed with each shallow downstroke, as if expressing how much she wanted him to stay inside her. And yet, the man never pushed past that internal limit of hers, despite every biological urge within imploring him to rut the caribou woman beneath him deeply. The faun cupped her thighs to spread her long, unguligrade legs as much as possible for the man, her wide hoofed feet dangling limply to either side as Martin increased his pace within her sweltering tunnel, flexing his cock in an attempt to bring her additional stimulation and rocking her body forward with every thrust even as she gave rapid contractions around him.

Martin felt a swelling sensation from his loins, a telltale sign that he was nearing his peak. He huffed from his position above the woman: “Gettin’ close, sweetheart.” The pet name felt absolutely gratifying, especially as she moaned out her approval. He refused to break stride, increasing his thrusting and finally taking the risk to press ever so slightly deeper. Namo removed her hand from her right leg, allowing it to flop against the mattress before moving it just below the prepuce of her pussy, inserting it slightly into the the fleshy folds to rub at her clit.

After several feverish rotations of her digits against the sensitive nub, the faun gasped and jerked, squeezing too tight around her human. Her momentary loss of somatic control was enough to dislodge the man’s member from her folds, but the constricting softness and jerking motion proved heavenly enough to set the man off. He thrust once against the fluffy exterior of her labia, rubbing against the tips of Namo’s fingers, before he felt the first tell-tale pulse of his cock herald the lancing of semen against her adpressed pussy and hand. The man stilled, vaguely aware of Namo’s supple hand rubbing along his crown, as he was overcome with the pleasure of expressing his love and lust for the woman. A second jet, then a third, criss-crossed over the woman’s furry hand, arm, and groin, successfully making even more of a mess of both of their bodies. With the fourth softening pulse of cum, the man all but collapsed on the woman, giving a breathy groan into the woman’s neck, to which she responded with a mirthful, and equally nonverbal, coo.

Martin shifted his head closer to his lover’s in a close approximation of a nuzzle, panting as she peppered him with breathless, rapid-fire kisses in a display of gratitude. He worried he would crush the smaller woman, but she clasped her free arm around the man’s bare back, as if daring him to even try to leave her grasp. Her sincere affection quelled some of the worst of Martin’s embarrassment and feelings of inadequacy, as he tried in vain to return the kisses she planted on his face and neck.

Namo giggled breathily, a sign she still felt some of the euphoria Martin had been able to provide her. However, she eventually caught her breath and released her human so he could catch his. The man rolled off of her, flexing his fingers, which had threatened to start cramping from the pressure he had placed on them.

The man savored the sounds of their nearly synchronized breathing, enjoying the Elysian bliss of his afterglow. Namo eventually broke the relative silence, wiping her cum-spattered arm on her stomach. “I don’t like this place, Maa’ko. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Martin turned to regard her. She stared upward at the ceiling, staring at nothing in particular, strands of her hair coming loose from the braid she typically wore to bed thanks to their brief, but frenetic activity. “What, you mean Al-Kutami’s manor? Or Fort Sarmiento?” The man asked.

“Just both of them. I can’t get outta my head what the police guy said to ya when he pinned ya to the ground. He asked ya whether you had a permission thingie to bring me into the town.” She reached her left arm up to scratch the top of her head. “I’m not even sure I know what that even means. But why didn’t he ask me whether I was allowed to be there? It’s like I didn’t even have a voice in the matter.”

Martin opened his mouth to answer her question, but she continued. “It feels like us fauns don’t have rights here, ya know? Like I’m not as good as a monuunkep. And then there’s the kepmuu that works for Al-Kutami. He had a weird name… what was it again?”

“Ulysses?” The man didn’t find the name to be all that weird.

“Yeah, exactly. That’s a monuunkep name! Why does a kepmuu have it? Did this Al-Kutami guy just get rid of it?”

“Maybe Ulysses picked the name for himself.”

“I guess… but why didn’t he want to talk to me? Or even notice I was there? It was like he didn’t even see me.” Her voice cracked, and Martin was forced to acknowledge that interpersonal greeting and recognition may have held special importance to the faun, though why, he couldn’t say.

“I don’t trust this man, Maa’ko. I don’t think you should, either. He seems no-good.”

Martin sat up to get a better look at the woman. She avoided his eyes, almost as if she were ashamed of the admission. Like it was a failure on her part. Her mouth, which had merely minutes ago been laughing and kissing and moaning for him, was now curled in a frown which stood in heightened contrast to her ebullient mood earlier. Martin knew that this city was hostile to fauns, but he now acknowledged that the overt speciesism was having a profound effect on the woman, and understandably so.

However, as much as it pained the man, he could see no other alternative, or at least any alternative as straightforward as the one presented to him by Al-Kutami. “I don’t really trust him either, Namo. But… but we don’t have any better options. Fadina is ahead of us, probably. She could be on her way to Madame Arbour’s location right now. After all, if Al-Kutami knows where she is, there’s probably a good chance Fadina does too. He’s the best lead we have to finding my master, which means the best lead to finding Fadina. That’s good, right?” After a moment’s hesitation, he added: “We have to do it… for Uno’opan.”

For several long moments, Namo simply stared at the curtain that concealed the full brightness of the light of the moons. When she finally responded, it was a soft, simple “I guess,” as if there was something she wasn’t ready to disclose, but chose to trust the man nonetheless.

Martin leaned over to kiss Namo on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Namo. For the behavior of other humans.”

Namo flashed a half-smile and shook her head, looking at Martin for the first time since the conversation turned serious. “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault, Maa’ko. I’ve seen amonuunkep with bad hearts and amonuunkep with good hearts. You’re definitely one with a good heart.”

Martin embraced Namo, the thought of her seeing the good in him inspiring more confidence and self-esteem than the man thought it would. Their lips met in a tender caress as they enjoyed the pleasure of their bodies’ physical contact. The man tried to push his own doubts aside; rather than worry about Al-Kutami’s intentions or whether Fadina Afzal was still out there somewhere, Martin found it much easier to focus on his newfound lover and the quelling storm of uncertainty of his relationship with the beautiful woman.