Steph's Outcast

When he leads me inside a cave, I'm a little surprised to see that it's the small nook that Bridget has claimed for her pottery. As caves go, it's pretty stingy. It's barely larger than my closet back home, and it doesn't feel as if there's enough room to get comfortable, especially with a much bigger alien at my side. But Bridget's pottery has been cleared from the floor, with only a few half-made pots lined up along the back wall, and it's quiet. As I look around, Juth slings the thick fur cloak off of his shoulders and drapes it on the floor.

"Here?" I whisper, even though we're alone.

In response, Juth pulls off the first layer of my clothing. I always wear several furs, because the wind can get cutting in the early mornings and at night, and layers help. He tugs off the woolly poncho-cut fur I wear over my clothes, setting it carefully down on the floor next to his cloak. His cautiousness is a little more recent. Normally we tear at each other like wild animals, but I scratched my arm on a rock last time and bled everywhere, and Juth was so upset I'd been hurt that it killed the mood.

Today, he is clearly a man with a plan, and if I had panties, they'd be wet.

Luckily for me, there are no panties here. Or if there are, they're leather and downright uncomfortable and I don't bother. They wouldn't last long anyhow. Juth peels another layer of clothing off of me with single-minded purpose, the look on his face making me want to melt into a puddle of lust. He takes my belt in one of his big hands and unties the knot, then flings it to the ground.

23

STEPH

“How much time do you think we have today?" I whisper, fascinated by my mate’s methodical, hungry movements. Normally our stolen moments are utterly frantic, and he'd have me face-down (and ass up) by now. The fact that he's taking the time to undress me fills me with a needy yearning. I love our stolen moments together. I do. I love when we can touch, but it makes me ache for more. I've never been a girl that needed dick to get off. I'm happy with fingers and an enthusiastic mouth, I really am. But Juth gives me orgasms all the time—twice as many as I give him—and it makes me want to share those toe-curling moments with him. I want to feel his body piercing mine. I want to wrap myself around him, and I want to hold him close and stare into his eyes when he comes inside me. It's a level of intimacy we haven't gotten to yet, and I find as he tugs my tunic top off, I crave that intimacy.

I'm aching and hollow inside with need for him.

"You didn't answer me." I run my hand up his arm as he reaches for the knot that holds my double-strength breast-band together. He's fascinated with my breasts, I think. He loves to free them and watch them bounce, then tease the tips with his mouth while his other hand works my pussy. I love it. God, I love all of it, really. I'm addicted to him and his touches, because I know that the one that is slightly exploratory and cautious today is going to be greedy and assertive the next time. He learns what I like and he applies it like a musician learning an instrument.

He tugs apart the knot, and the elaborate network of straps I use to keep everything from jiggling falls apart. My breasts spill out and Juth groans, utterly entranced at the sight. He always makes me feel so damn good. My boobs have been heavy all my life, and as a result, they're not particularly perky or bouncy. Juth looks at them as if they're the best tits ever, though. He reverently touches one as if he's never seen anything as perfect and gorgeous as my heavy breast, and in his eyes, I'm the sexiest creature alive. It makes me bolder, and I reach out and rip his kilt off his hips, revealing his hard cock and heavy sac to my gaze.

"You defended me in front of O'jek," Juth murmurs, cupping my breast and teasing the nipple with soft movements of his thumb. "He said things about Outcast clan and you got mad at him. You told him he was wrong."

It's hard to think when he's touching me like that, but I try anyhow. "I don't like anyone thinking that you're less just because your tail looks a little different. It's just a tail. No one has the right to make anyone feel like less because of how they look."

"You defended me," he says with another incredulous shake of his head. "You were proud of me."