Chapter 19 Scythro
“What’s she doing now?”
“She’s rubbing herself,” Ghorak reports, “even harder than before.”
The big green Grangorian is leaning around the edge of the longstrider’s shell, peering into the darkness on the other side. A few kethars ago, he was out cold. Now he’s more alert than I’ve seen him all day.
His cock is alert too, and it is tenting the front of his trousers.
He isn’t the least bit embarrassed by this fact, nor does he have any reason to be.
I’ve never slept with a male of his species before, but I’ve heard stories, and now I can see that those stories were true.
Grangorians are not just big in stature. They’re big all over. Extremely big.
“Is she weeping?” I ask.
“Don’t know,” Ghorak whispers back. “The way she’s sitting, I can’t quite see between her legs.”
“I was referring to her eyes.”
“Oh. Right. Of course. Uh… she doesn’t seem to be weeping exactly.”
I lean back against the longstrider’s shell and sigh. I ought to be gladdened by that news, but in truth I’m a little disappointed. More than a little. I was looking forward to helping the human female satisfy her urges again tonight. I was even thinking about sharing that task with Ghorak.
It seems that may not be necessary now.
“Kinda hard to tell with that mask she’s wearing,” Ghorak continues in a low voice. “She’s got her eyes closed, though. And she’s sorta whimpering and gasping and such. Her lips are sorta quivering and… Oh… Oh, wow.”
“What is it?”
“She’s playing with her mammaries now. Squeezing them. Great Universe, they look soft.”
When I first formulated this plan a few kethars ago, I was worried Ghorak wouldn’t be able to see so much detail. This night is dark, even for a Hassaith such as myself. As a Grangorian, Ghorak is strictly diurnal. His eyes are far less adapted to the darkness than my own.
Fortunately, the Weedian is full of surprises.
The reason he’s able to see Jean so clearly is due to the homemade goggles strapped around his horned head.
Night-vision goggles.
It’s not a piece of equipment one would normally expect to find here on Ul. Then again, neither is that crazy rifle he used to vaporize the last ashmaw earlier today.
When I asked where he got the goggles, he just said he knows someone who’s good with machines. Same fellow he mentioned to Jean, I suppose. The one who might be able to fix her little android friend.
Anyway, those goggles are coming in handy now. They’re allowing me to keep my promise to Jean, while simultaneously keeping her safe.
I promised I wouldn’t watch her, and I’m not.
I also said I’d keep Ghorak occupied if he woke up. Technically, I’m keeping that promise too. Of course, I’m the one who woke him up.
For the past several kethars, Ghorak has been watching over our mysterious little companion, and giving me a pretty solid narration of her activities at the same time.
So far, he has described everything in exquisite detail.
The speed with which she unzipped the front of her bodysuit.
The angle of her open thighs. The pace of her rubbing.
He’s actually quite observant for a weedhead. Surprisingly observant.
“And now?” I ask. “What is she doing now?”
“Let’s see…”
I settle back against the side of the longstrider and close my eyes as Ghorak continues his narration.
Images take shape before my mind’s eye. Images of the female.
Her bodysuit is unzipped, and the top half is pushed down around her waist. Her legs are spread, and her hand is between them, desperately trying to rub away her need.
I think about that sensitive little bud at the top of her mating slit.
I recall how erect and springy it felt last night when I kissed it.
My balls throb at the memory. My cock leaks inside my breeches.
I’m so caught up in my little fantasy, it takes me a few sareths before I realize Ghorak has stopped his narration. In place of his low, weed-laced voice, I now hear a different, softer sound. A slow, rhythmic friction of skin moving against skin.
I crack one eye and look in his direction.
The Grangorian has dropped trow, freeing his rigid member. It is half-hidden by the darkness, and by his own stroking hand, but I can see enough to know what he’s up to.
I cough discreetly.
Ghorak jolts at the sound. He pulls back from the end of the longstrider and looks at me with his night-vision goggles still on.
After a moment, he pushes them up onto his forehead.
When he sees where my eyes are pointed, he looks down at the hard cock in his fist and seems almost surprised to find it there. His face clouds.
“Shit,” he grumbles. “Cut me some slack. Haven’t seen a female in over ten cycles.”
Can’t argue with that.
As a matter of fact, I’m tempted to offer him my assistance, though I fear that might be a step too far.
“Do what you must,” I tell him, “but please keep the reports coming. I need to know how the female is doing.”
Ghorak nods. He pulls the goggles back down over his eyes and peers around the end of the longstrider again.
His detailed description continues, but now his voice is taut with desire.
Apparently the human has started using both hands, and she’s going at it with even greater intensity than before.
Her body is writhing and undulating as she struggles to make herself come. Her lips are open. She is moaning.
My poor cock has become stiff from listening to Ghorak’s descriptions.
Painfully stiff. It doesn’t hurt quite as badly as my wounded arm, but it’s close.
I’m beginning to think Ghorak’s plan is not such a bad one after all.
I unlace the front of my britches and release my own aching erection into the warm night air.
The feeling of relief is immense. The feeling of pleasure as I start to stroke it is better still.
I’m right on the verge of exploding when Ghorak says something that jerks me out of my lust.
“Hey, you asked earlier if she was weeping?”
“Yes?”
“Well… I think she is. Her eyes are leaking all over her cheeks, and she’s making little whimpering noises like she’s in pain or something.” Ghorak’s own voice sounds pained to report this fact. “And she’s saying something. Same word, over and over.”
“What word?”
Ghorak presses a finger to his lips. He turns his head slightly, aiming one green ear in the direction of the female. After a moment, his jaw drops open.
“Please,” he whispers. “She’s saying, please.”
His expression hardens with resolve.
“The null with this,” he growls. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna go help her.”
He yanks off his goggles and tosses them aside. As he begins to rise, I dart to my feet and catch him by the arm. He turns on me with a quiet snarl.
“No,” I whisper. “You’re not going to help her.”
He begins to protest, but I cut him off before he has the chance.
“We’re going to help her,” I explain. “Both of us, together.”
For a moment, Ghorak just stands there, staring me down.
I imagine he’s trying to decide whether it’s worth fighting over.
He’s a lot bigger than I am. Undoubtedly stronger.
And then there’s the matter of his crime-glyph.
It is an alarming one, to say the least. But I have the advantage of not being stoned out of my skull on dreamweed.
Sure, I had a little puff earlier, but nothing close to the amount Ghorak has indulged in today.
Still, I’m a lover at heart. The last thing I want is a fight.
“I know what she likes,” I tell him, quirking one brow. “I can show you.”
Ghorak considers this for a long moment, and I can practically see the wheels turning behind his smoked-out eyes. At last, he gives a little grunt of assent.
“Fine,” he says. “We’ll do it together.”
“Good,” I say, stuffing my hard-on back inside my britches as I rise. Ghorak’s is still sticking out, and it’s jumping noticeably with his pulse. I jut my chin in its direction. “You’d better put that warclub away before you scare the poor human out of her wits.”
He looks down again, and again he seems surprised by what he sees. He frowns.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asks.
“Nothing’s wrong with it, darling. It’s just… a lot, that’s all. We’ll want to ease her into things.”
Ghorak grimaces as he pulls his pants up and stuffs his cock back inside. The fabric around his crotch looks as if it might shred at any moment.
“Better?” he asks.
“Slightly. Now, there’s just one more small matter I must attend to.”
“What’s that?”
“I made her a promise,” I tell him, “and I intend to keep it.”
I glance around the dark campsite, searching for something that might work for what I have in mind. At last, my eyes land on one of the packs strapped to the side of the longstrider. It’s the first-aid kit Ghorak used earlier to clean and bind my wounded arm. I go to it and begin rummaging inside.
“What’re you looking for?” Ghorak asks.
“Bandages,” I answer.