Chapter 12
Adam
Jaime doesn’t want me to touch his cock, which is disappointing, but at least he let me watch him touch himself.
And he watched me touch myself, which was almost as good.
Almost good enough. I very much wanted to ignore his obvious wish and touch him anyway, but that voice behind the fog kept repeating that no means no.
And Jaime said no. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I understood that word.
Some of his words are starting to stick in my mind.
As the fog in my mind weakens, more images and thoughts slip through.
I still don’t understand most of them, but I leave them alone, even though my mind feels too crowded now.
So many thoughts. Some are useful, though, like the thought about using the thick roots for cleaning.
I’ve seen flicktails use them this way, but I never copied them before.
I never cared about cleaning myself at all.
When I was covered in blood, I’d find water and scrub myself there, but cleaning my hands after touching my cock is a new idea that came from behind the fog.
It felt odd to me, but Jaime liked it, and when he’s happy, I’m happy too.
As we finish cleaning ourselves and I take him into my arms again, I greedily inhale his scent.
There’s no fear souring it now, just sweet contentment and tiny splatters of his cock fluid on his outer skin.
He hid his cock underneath it again, making me think that maybe that is the outer skin’s purpose, since Jaime doesn’t have a cock pouch.
The outer skin doesn’t protect it very well, but it does hide his cock from sight.
Not that I like that. I could watch his cock all day, even when it’s small and soft.
I like it better when it’s long and hard like mine, though.
“Is there water nearby? The roots were great, but I’d still prefer to bathe in actual water and, more importantly, I’m getting really thirsty. I can’t survive too long without water.”
Anxious because Jaime’s words sound urgent, I wait for something to come through the fog to explain what he needs.
The feeling of dryness in the back of my throat hints at what “water” and “thirsty” mean, and I curse myself.
Of course he needs to drink. Every living thing needs to drink.
I don’t need much, but even I get thirsty, and with the way Jaime’s body loses water through his skin, he will need much more than I do.
There’s a stream running through my den but we’re still days away from it, especially if we take the safer path that doesn’t cut through the venomfang territory. I thought the faster we got to my den, the better, but I changed my mind. Jaime’s safety is more important.
Now, where is the closest water? The river winds through this part of the forest, but that would bring us closer to venomfangs.
Taking in a deep breath, I filter through the smells assaulting my senses before taking off in a direction where I can smell mud.
Clean water doesn’t have much of a smell, but where there’s mud, there’s water.
Jaime talks as I walk, his words filling the night air along with clatterbeak calls and other creature noises.
Sometimes images pop into my mind when he speaks, but they only confuse me.
When he speaks about something called a “brother” though…
He looks exactly like me, except his scales are dark blue. His four arms reach toward me as he speaks softly. “It’s me, brother. It’s me.” Then the fog surges and there is blood on my claws. Screams. The other one’s face is cut open. “Don’t hurt him!”
I shudder as the images keep replaying, an unfamiliar feeling gnawing at my insides. I remember the other one’s blood on my claws. The fog made me attack him, the way it makes me attack everything else. But who was he, and why does it hurt so much to think about him?
“Are you okay?” Jaime’s voice is soft and his hand, gently touching my neck, even softer.
“You looked a little lost in thought there. I wish you could speak or somehow let me know what’s going on in that head of yours.
I really don’t know what to think about you.
One moment you’re all primal and in the next, you display some next freaking level of abstract thinking.
It makes no sense. You make no sense, my friend.
But I like you anyway. You’re sweet. The Adam I named you after seemed sweet too, but I bet he wasn’t half as sweet as you are.
No one is. You’re like the best boyfriend anyone has ever had and— Damn.
” Sighing, he rubs his hand over his face.
“I should really stop thinking in these terms.”
His words pull up a memory of holding someone in my arms. Someone…blue? Not Jaime, but my arms held him just as tenderly. Boyfriend. Is that what it’s called when you hold someone?
Blue hands on my cock.
Oh, yes. I would like that very much. I just wish I knew how to communicate it, to make words like Jaime does.
My maw used to make words, I think. I remember making words, but the red fog took over the word-making part of my mind and, as weak as it has been lately, it still won’t let me make words. Speak. That’s what it’s called.
Shifting Jaime in my arms, I rub my temples, my head throbbing.
It’s too much at once, and it makes me miss the simpler days.
Jaime’s hands pull mine away, replacing them as he slowly traces circles around my temples with his fingers.
“Shh,” he hums. “It’s okay. Headache? You haven’t drunk anything since we met.
We both need to get some water. Can you find it? ”
Water. Right. Even while dazed, I’ve been walking in the right direction, and soon we come across a tiny lake, half hidden under the roots of a huge twistroot tree. Several thin streams run into the lake, and one larger stream flows out, disappearing between the trees.
“Oh, wow.” Jaime looks around curiously, his hands falling from my temples.
“Did you actually understand me when I said I needed water or were we headed here all along? This is great! I mean, it would be safer if I had fire and something to boil water in, but since that doesn’t seem to be an option here, I’ll just drink from this.
It seems clean enough. Can you set me down on that root over there? ”
He points to a protruding root by the waterline and then down, which I’ve come to understand means he wants to be set down.
After I help him position his legs so that he’s stable, I cup water in my hands and drink deeply.
It tastes clean, so I scoop up more for Jaime, turning to see him balance precariously on his root as he tries to reach the water.
Silently, I offer him my hands to drink from, but he turns his head from side to side.
“No, thanks. I really appreciate it, but I need to do at least something myself.”
His rejection stings, but the sweet tone of his words tells me he doesn’t mean harm, so I don’t dwell on it.
Holding the root with one hand, Jaime manages to scoop a little water with the other, grinning as he brings the drops to his mouth.
“Ha! See? I can do it myself.” Then he reaches down again, his hand slips, and he plunges head-first into the water.
It’s not deep, but I immediately lunge forward to fish him out.
His legs don’t work, and I didn’t see any gills on him, so he wouldn’t last long in the water.
As I hold him, both of us wet, he coughs up some water, then lets out short, sharp barks. Laughter, something in me suggests. He’s laughing.
“Fuck,” he says. “I guess we now know why they say pride before fall and all that jazz. I don’t know why I thought I could do anything on my own out here.” His words turn bitter. “I really am useless.”
I don’t like the way his barks stop and his face loses the expression I came to associate with happiness.
He looks sad now. Because he couldn’t reach the water?
I could have given it to him, but he didn’t want that.
He wanted to reach it himself, but his body failed him.
That’s what makes him sad. I surprise myself with such a complex thought, but deep down, I know I’m right.
I also know that sitting him back on the root and bringing him water as if he’s a helpless youngling will only make him sadder.
That’s another thought from beyond the fog. What can I do, though?
The answer is simple. We’re already in the water.
It’s too shallow here for him to reach, and we’ve disturbed the mud so the water isn’t clear anymore, but all it takes is wading a little farther.
The lake is small, and even in the deepest part the water only reaches my waist, but when I crouch and sink the lower half of Jaime’s body into the water, he can easily reach it.
When I stop moving, Jaime slowly unhooks his arms from behind my neck, where he put them the moment I moved into deeper water. “Don’t drop me,” he says quietly. “I can’t swim. But you already know that, otherwise you wouldn’t have jumped in to rescue me earlier. What are we doing?”
Shifting to hold him in three arms, I scoop up water into my palm and drink from it.
Expression brightening, Jaime looks at me, then at the water around us.
“You know, this definitely isn’t the most hygienic way to drink.
” He hesitates, his hands still hovering around my neck, ready to hold himself up as if I would ever let go of him.
Eventually getting comfortable, he drinks deeply before exhaling.
“I'm probably going to get sick from this but, damn, it feels good.”
Once he’s done drinking, he pours water over his head fur, grumbling as he tries to run his fingers through it. “Yep, this is hopeless. I wonder if that root gel would work on it. I’ll have to try later. Thank you for doing this for me, Adam.”
My heart flutters when he says my name and looks up at me with tenderness in his eyes.
Brazenly, I run my fingers down the side of his face, marveling at the strange feel of his scaleless skin and the scratchiness of his chin fur.
When he doesn’t stop me, I continue down his neck, stopping at a spot where his blood pounds beneath his skin.
With a sigh, Jaime closes his eyes and leans into my touch. “I really like you, Adam. Much more than I should, but screw that. I won’t survive long here, so…carpe diem.”