CHAPTER 78
MURR
Shorts are terrible.
They are apparently a thing that human males wear, and Rabbit has retrieved several pairs from a nearby building for me to try on.
Dakota has given them to me, and again, I am baffled by the amount of discomfort these humans endure just to cover their bodies from one another.
Shorts are two tubes of material sewn together, and one is to put a leg into each hole and wear them like so.
But on most of the shorts, the leg holes are far too tight and end up ripping.
The third pair goes over my hips and does not cinch my thighs like a tourniquet, but the seam that goes between my thighs rubs and chafes against my cock as I try to walk, and traps everything.
I have to stop every few steps to adjust where I am being pinched.
Rabbit looks so happy that I am wearing her gift that I say none of this, however.
I endure the pinching and misery as we sit around the fire. The fresh meat is cooked up, and the females discuss fresh vegetables. There are none, but they are hoping for greens to come up from Dakota’s little pots. “I’ve been craving tomatoes,” my mate says, a blissful look on her face.
Hmm. Perhaps I can help her find them somehow. I must remember to ask what a “tomatoes” is.
The talk drifts on, and Aggie barks out questions, trying to get answers to her “cross words.” Dottie rubs her sticks together to make patterns in her threads, and then Dakota pulls out a book and reads something called a “fairy tale” aloud to the others.
It is about a little man with a long name that makes a woman spin straw into gold.
I only half listen, as I am more fascinated by watching my mate’s expressions as she reads aloud.
Her eyes gleam in the firelight and her mouth moves as she speaks, and I pet the nearby cats that have joined us, watch my mate, and feel utter contentment.
It does not matter that the Rift is not open, or that I have lost my people. As long as I have Dakota, I do not care.
As if she can sense my thoughts, she looks up from her book and smiles at me. I send her a wave of affection, knowing she won’t be able to feel it, but wanting it anyhow.
“That’s all for me,” Dakota says, closing the book as she finishes the story.
She yawns dramatically, setting off a series of yawns in the cats around us.
Rabbit has one in her lap and a kitten held up against the crook of her neck.
“We should all head to bed. If the weather’s good, maybe we can go forage for some greens.
There might be dandelions left in the area and I could go for a salad. ”
Rabbit closes her eyes and makes a happy face. “I would kill for a salad.”
Is this something I can get for them? Is it a bird of some kind? They are less easy to pick off than the deer or cattle, but I don’t mind a challenge. “Murr hunt salad?”
The females all chuckle.
“It’s not something you hunt!” Rabbit declares.
“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” Dakota says, and gets to her feet. “For now, bedtime.” And she looks at me with expectation on her face, asking me to join her.
I rise, displacing the cats that have piled themselves against me to share in my warmth, and the shorts pinch against my cock again. With a wince, I hobble forward and follow my mate.
The humans all sing out choruses of “good night” and “don’t let the bed bugs bite,” and Aggie calls out something nonsensical about riding and champion bulls and makes Dakota emit a strangled sound.
She still smells happy, though, so I take her hand and let her lead me into the darkness of the building, where our quarters are now set up.
When we’re in our quarters, Dakota draws a stiff, rustling curtain across. “Shower curtain, but it acts as a door,” she says, and seems pleased by it. “Are you all right? You’ve been making some weird faces tonight.”
“Shorts,” is all I say, and adjust myself with a grimace.
Dakota huffs with amusement, and her hands go to the waistband of the hated clothing. “Maybe more kilts are best for you. I bet I can make you some better ones. You don’t have to wear the shorts.”
Now that is a relief. I pull them off with a vicious rip, enjoying the sound of the fabric tearing.
“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” she tells me, her arms sliding around my waist. “We’ll look for food, and some plain fabric, and maybe more towels.”
“Towels?” I echo. “Explain?”
She moves in, pulling me down so that she can nibble on my jaw. “To put underneath us during sex. So we don’t ruin the blankets.”
Aha. “Clever mate.”
“Indeed.” Her tiny teeth scrape against my skin, sending a shiver along my spine. Oh, I like it when she bites me.
I pick her up by the hips and carry her the two quick steps to the bedding and set her down on the pile of blankets. “Now Dakota quiet?” I whisper, sliding my hand under her shirt to caress her breast. “Be good.”
“I can be quiet,” she promises.
In the end, we learn that she is quietest when my mouth is on her.