Chapter 5 #2
Zax only hesitated for a moment. Then he unknotted his loincloth and let it fall to the wooden floor.
Fawn gaped. Those were two cocks, alright. One perched above the other, curving to attention. The higher one was dripping on the lower one, precum running down both shafts and onto his balls. He only had two balls, nestled exactly where they were supposed to be.
His cocks were… not exactly human. Bigger than any she’d seen—too big for her to take one, let alone two. They were pale blue down the shafts and dark blue at the tip, and the cockheads tapered into a fleshy point.
For some reason, Fawn’s mouth watered.
She swallowed her spit and decided on a plan. She was by no means ready to deal with those cocks, but she could try something to please him.
She looked up at him through her eyelashes, trying to act sexy in a way she hadn’t done since the very early days of her marriage, back when she still convinced herself she could make it fun.
“Do you ever touch yourself?”
Zax looked at her blankly.
“You know,” Fawn whispered. “Do you ever pleasure yourself?”
“Oh,” Zax said. “Yes.”
He wrapped his hands around his cocks. One for each. They were a good handful, and distractingly attractive. Especially when he squeezed them, causing another drop of precum to bead out of the cockheads—first the top one, then the one below.
Fawn rubbed her legs together carefully, smearing the wetness he had caused between them. “Would you show me?”
Zax did not glare at her and tell her that was what she was for, like she had been half expecting.
Instead, he groaned, working his hands over his cocks in clumsy tandem.
For a moment, Fawn just watched, mesmerized by the way they jerked and leaked in his hands. A dozen questions ran through her mind.
“Is it always both?” Fawn asked. “I mean, both at the same time?”
Zax shook his head. “S-sometimes I do one after the other.”
His purple eye was fixed on the mess between her legs, and Fawn steeled herself before spreading them open.
Zax growled, stroking himself faster. His knuckles bumped into each other, but he didn’t stop. His cocks were getting so slick, pre-come making them shine like they were wet with spit.
Fawn swallowed against another rush of saliva. Then, in a grand moment of inspiration—and also a sense of awkwardness for not doing anything—she pulled her dress down over her breasts and palmed them tentatively.
Zax’s hips bucked. His cocks swelled in tandem. He faltered, letting go of his lower cock to grip his higher one.
Then he shot ropes of come over Fawn’s bare legs. Hot and thick, so copious that it ran down her legs and splattered onto the nest below. Fawn stayed still, her eyes fixed on that first cock as the come slowed to a dribble before finally stopping.
But Zax did not sag with relief. His hands, which had slowed on his first cock as he came, reached down to his second cock and began to stroke himself with renewed vigor.
“Come on,” Fawn said, shocked at how breathy her voice had become without her noticing. “Give it to me. Show your wife how much you want her.”
Zax’s growl turned into a low, helpless howl. His second cock jerked much like the first, and new lines of come splattered over Fawn’s bare legs.
Fawn watched, her clit throbbing. Part of her was horrified that she was so aroused by this.
Another part was relieved—she wouldn’t suffer in his care as much as she thought.
And he could smell her arousal, which would make him feel like he was doing a good job.
She wanted him to think he was being a good husband.
Which, if she thought about it…
Fawn cut that thought off in its tracks. It didn’t matter how good a husband he was. He was a monster. End of story.
Zax slumped over her, his forehead pressed into the nest above her. His heaving chest glistened tantalizingly above her face, and Fawn had to fight down the strange urge to lick it.
Zax stayed there for a while, breathing heavily. The come on Fawn’s legs started to cool and become unbearably sticky.
“Zax,” Fawn said, her voice low in case he didn’t like to be disturbed afterward. “Is there something I can clean myself with?”
“I will—” Zax sat up, bracing his arms against the nest. “I will make you a bath. I have towels. And new fur for the nest.”
He was shaking, which was… endearing. No, Fawn told herself, not endearing. It was promising. It meant he was weak after he climaxed. She could use that.
But also, Fawn considered as he eased himself to his feet and reached for his loincloth, it was actually quite sweet. Or it would have been, if he were someone else. Something else.
“A bath,” Fawn repeated, looking over at the clawfoot tub in the corner of the treehouse. “Are you sure? I can just use a towel.”
Zax shook his head. He looked dazed, missing the knot twice before he properly tied his loincloth.
“No,” he said. “Mortals bathe at least once a day, my brothers said. They like to be clean.”
With that, he leapt out of the window.
Sometime later, Fawn dipped her hand into a shockingly warm bath.
The bathtub was chipped, and there were crumbs of dirt at the bottom of the water.
But this would still be the nicest wash she’d had in months.
Traveling with the Circle meant a lot of washing in the river.
And even back home, she usually couldn’t be bothered heating water for a bath, preferring to rub herself down with a wet cloth.
Zax stood behind her, his tail swishing anxiously. “Is it good? Not too hot?”
“It’s perfect,” Fawn said. She didn’t have to fake her smile as she turned to him. “Thank you. You didn’t have to go through so much effort.”
“It was not so much,” Zax said. Which, in her opinion, was a lie. She had watched in disbelief as he set up another campfire, lugged pots of water from the river, and carried them back up to empty them into the tub.
Her tub. Until her foot healed enough for her to escape, anyhow.
“I also have soap,” Zax announced. He went over to a drawer and pulled out a bar of hard, waxy yellow soap that she recognized from an inn a few towns over. “I can learn to make that, too.”
“You don’t need to,” Fawn assured him. She took the soap, then waited.
Zax seemed to be waiting, too. His tail kept swishing expectantly.
Fawn cleared her throat, fixing her dress over her sticky legs. “Well, I might bathe now.”
Zax nodded eagerly. “Can I bathe you?”
Fawn choked, almost dropping the soap. Could he what? Her husband hadn’t even offered that. Did he think her incapable, or was this another thing to cross off his Good Husband checklist?
“No,” she said, too fast. She softened her tone. “I’d like to be alone for a while. Is that okay?”
“Oh,” Zax said. “Okay.”
His tail drooped. But only for a moment. He reached into his loincloth pocket and took out a… rock?
“This is for you,” he said as he handed it over. “I found it as I was gathering water. It reminded me of your freckles. Let me know when you are finished washing.”
He leapt out of the window again.
Fawn stood there, staring at her hands. In one was the soap, and in the other was the rock he had gifted her. It was small and smooth, almost glossy. It was speckled brown in such a pattern that it did almost resemble Fawn’s freckles.
Fawn’s cheeks heated. She touched her offending freckles, something strange churning in her stomach. Guilt? Impossible. She couldn’t feel guilty for this. She was just trying to survive. To make the world right. Who would feel guilty over killing a Skullstalker?
After checking out the window that he was truly gone, Fawn undressed and climbed into the bath.
Even with her injured ankle propped safely over the side, it was heavenly.
It made her wish she had put the effort in back home, but there was always something more to do in that small town: mend clothes or fix dinner or polish Renly’s shoes.
She lay back in the bathtub, pleased to find that it was so long she could stretch her legs out and her toes would barely skim the other end. She propped her injured leg on the lip of the tub. Then she considered.
Her husband’s family would be looking for her. Or would they? They valued her, of course. But in the same way that they valued good shoes or a carriage. They never seemed to like her very much. Unless she put a lot of time into stroking their egos, which was so exhausting that Fawn rarely bothered.
They could find someone else, Fawn thought.
The idea was oddly thrilling. Some other woman to take back to town.
Some other woman to make small talk in the market.
Some other woman to marry Errol. Why did she like that idea so much?
Even if someone else married Errol, she had to go back to that small town she’d spent her whole life in.
Even if she had no husband waiting and no real friends, home was home.
Right?
Fawn twisted to look at the rock Zax had given her. She had placed it on the lip of the bath, unsure what else to do with it. She picked it up and held it up to the mid-morning light, confused and wondrous.
No one had given her a gift just for the sake of it. Renly only gave her gifts on her birthday, and it was usually something that benefited them both, like an improved butter churner or more sewing supplies so she could continue to darn his socks.
Fawn shifted in the warm water. She couldn’t think about that right now. Her first priority had to be to escape. Heal, then find some way out of here. She would deal with everything else later.