Chapter 10 Burr’k
The shuttle was filled with the chorus of Holly’s screams, and her whole body shook from the force of her climax.
“Krux.” I’d wanted this to last longer, but I was done.
I thrust into my female one last time with a snarl. Holly’s wonderfully wet channel pulsed around me again, and it was the most glorious thing I’d ever felt as I emptied my seed into her.
I nuzzled her cheek, and she hummed softly. Her eyes were half closed, and she clutched onto me like I was the last remaining thing she had. Her sunlight-colored hair was fanned across my sleeping mat like a beautiful halo. I wanted to memorize this moment forever.
After many long seconds I released her, but she whimpered and held on tight.
“Don’t go yet.”
“I am not going anywhere,” I said, every word the honest truth. “I only wish to clean us before this soaks into the mat.”
Our sleeping mats were moisture-resistant to a degree, but I was more thinking about her comfort.
“Oh. In that case…” She released me.
I returned with a warm, damp towel, and after cleaning us up, she pulled me back down onto the bed. I let her, not wishing to leave either.
I lay down next to her and pulled her into my arms. My biceps was a bit high for her neck to make a good pillow, but she didn’t seem to mind as she snuggled in close. It wasn’t long before she was asleep.
Holly made the cutest little sounds when she slept. She was still in my arms, tucked up against my chest, her breath soft against my skin. I held her close, reluctant to move. A part of me wanted this moment to last forever.
I couldn’t stop staring at her, at the way her lashes brushed her cheeks, and at the pink flush still lingering on her skin. This teeny, tiny female had cracked me open, and now I didn’t know what to do or how to proceed.
I watched her sleep, her fingers curled lightly against my chest, and I thought about what she’d said earlier about gifts. I didn’t have much. Never had, even when the mothership had been around, but now I had even less. But I wanted to give her something.
Carefully I slid out from under her, moving slowly so I wouldn’t wake her.
She shifted, murmured something I couldn’t catch, then settled again.
Then I called up the energy screen for the sleeping nook so my movements wouldn’t disturb her.
Opening the wall panel, I threw on a dry loincloth before stepping outside.
The snow had stopped, but the wind was still bitingly cold. Much colder than before, and the slushy snow had solidified into a sheet of ice. The claws on my feet made easy work of it, digging in to stop me from sliding as I made my way back to the toy store.
I moved through the aisles, passing toppled shelves and toward the large display with the “stuffed animals.” I’d always found them strange since they were not in fact preserved and stuffed creatures, but anatomically incorrect representations made of fabric and stuffing.
There were even plush food items complete with eyes, smiles, and dangly feet. So very strange.
I searched through the odd creatures until I found the rodent with the red scarf.
This one at least looked more realistic, except for the fact that it was wearing a neck covering.
Still, Holly had kept this one close, claiming that it looked like the one in the barn.
It didn’t. Not to me. But what I thought didn’t matter.
I saw the sadness in her eyes and the way she’d patted its head like it could understand her regret when she left it behind.
I did not understand why the younglings at New Franklin could have toys, but she couldn’t. Why? Because she was older? Did grown humans not need hope? Even now, as I looked at it and recalled our moment in the barn and in the toy store earlier, it made me happy.
I picked it up and headed back to the shuttle.
I’d just tucked the mouse onto one of the shuttle’s storage shelves and closed the panel when the screen to the sleeping nook opened.
Holly greeted me from my sleeping mat with adorably messy hair and creases on her cheek. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Hey,” she said, her voice still rough with sleep. “You were gone.”
“Had to check something. I am back.”
“Everything good?” She looked concerned.
“All good.”
She eyed the back of my shuttle. “You don’t happen to have the privacy screen upgrade for the facilities, do you? I don’t see it on.”
“I do,” I said, “just hit the panel on the side once you are in.”
I’d learned that humans were private about their natural functions. And while I hadn’t accepted soft things for my sleeping nook, I’d opted for the extra privacy screen for my shuttle. That was one thing our shuttles had lacked before coming to Earth, and it was a complaint many hunters had.
Our creators, the now-extinct Xarc’n military, had made us to be genetically modified super soldiers, and had spared any comforts in the design of our shuttles or our tools. We had one mission: to destroy the scourge. We didn’t need a barrier for offensive smells in our shuttle to do so.
But it was nice to have, just like improved climate control and dimmable lights.
She disappeared to do her business, and I went to the nav screen to check my messages.
There was one from Jask’l warning us, too late, of the blizzard.
I sent a quick note back to let him know we were staying out overnight.
The high winds outside weren’t good for flying, especially with so much ice on my shuttle.
Plus, we still needed to check the bookstore for the rest of the gifts.
Holly came out from the back, the scent of ozone from the hand decontaminator still clinging to her. She went to her bag and dug around in one of the pockets, then squeezed something sweet-smelling onto her hands before rubbing them together.
“Want some?” she asked, holding up a tube.
“What is it? It smells like sugar.”
“Sugar and spice scented hand cream. It’s a moisturizer for your skin.”
I looked down at my hands, worn and callused from decades of work on other hunter shuttles.
Aside from helping Jask’l in the repair bay, I had also spent time in Yam’r’s workshop, helping him build weapons and gadgets needed by every hunter.
Both had left the skin on my hands less supple.
But the memories of my years back on the mothership dampened my mood.
The tight feeling of hopeless anger returned, wedging itself into the grooves it’d made in my psyche.
“No,” I said gruffly. “I do not see the need to smell like sweets.”
“Suit yourself.” She tucked her tube back into her bag, then looked around my shuttle. “So, Grumpy, what’s for dinner?”