Aldea, Lothess 04, 00229
Among the worn mountains of Piter Range, the crisp cool air carried to my nostrils the scents of pine and ash and the spoor of animals, but more importantly it carried…
Gotcha, ya little minx, I thought to myself. I bet you thought you’d lost me last night. Guess again.
I resettled the heavy backpack I’d been carrying, checked the flag that I had to be wearing according to the rules, and settled into a comfortable hike. She was still way ahead of me, and she might even be distancing me. I had two more days, at this pace, before she crossed the border and was home free. I had to get her.
Capture the flag. Whoever she was, she had managed to get freedom for her compatriots, and they had been let loose, flagless. By the rules, they had to walk back to their territory, and considering it’s a ten-day walk back to their campsite, they weren’t in for a lot of fun. They had to go as a group, and would be fed and provided packs for the journey. One catch, though… The breaker was not under the rules. She had her flag, and had to make her way back home, while every member of my team that wasn’t involved in infiltration and recon was after her. And I had her. I had almost lost her last night. But I could smell her in the woods. She’d been forced back down off the treeline, and I might be able to get to her unseen.
I knew that down that ridge, over to my left, there was a good facing to the small vale beyond the Piters. I headed for it, climbing over rocks and fording a small stream. I reached it.
The view was magnificent but I ignored it. Beyond was the vale that led to a crook, beyond which was a plain. The plain was about a three-day hike across, but my prey might not know where the border was. I looked with my binoculars, scanning the field before me. No, she had not reached the plain, not yet at any rate. She was still in the treeline. But before dark she would break the treeline; After that I would be able to move only at night, because she would have an enormously free field of vision in which to spot me. Even that was risky.
I ducked back spinward and began an easy run, trying to make up for lost time. Last night I’d masked my scent by making my bed in a cave, and I knew that this Felinzi had lost me. This morning, the winds had changed, and I was the beneficiary. I could smell her, but not she me. I smiled at the thought. Sometime last night I’d disappeared. She must have thought I’d gotten down through the aspin pass, which was a shorter route. She would still be concerned that I would make the treeline and spot her before she did. Or I could even be waiting, lying in the tall grass of the border plain.
I made an easy path and careered past the evergreens and moss-covered rocks. I reached the approximate edge of the forest about three hours before dark. Damn. She was going to make good head time. I pulled out the binoculars and adjusted them. The lenses are made up of oil suspended in forcefields; they can be computer-adjusted to any resolution, and are much finer than glass or plastic. I looked out and adjusted the feed to I/R. Gotcha.
She was ahead by a distance. About two hours, I’d say, and making way through the knee-high grass slowly, carefully. That’s it, I thought, take it careful; I might be hiding in the grass ahead of you. Oh, by the way, paranoia will wear you out faster, sweetheart.
I watched carefully, ducking behind the large rock I’d found only when she turned to scan my area with her binoculars. I waited patiently, timing on my chrono for twenty minutes, then returning to look over the rock. I was lucky; never once did she spot me, or so I hoped.
Dark came, the shadow edge passing slowly, darkening the plain. Clouds approached, dark storm clouds that threatened heavy rains. As they approached, the temperature soared. As soon as it was as dark as it could get, I started running again. Her scent was easy to catch now that the only thing between her and I was the grass. At this point it was a race between her and I and exhaustion; I hoped I was up to it. I grabbed some mixed grains out of a pouch on my pants and ate as I walked.
The hours wore on. I lost sight of her, but soon spotted something odd in the grass ahead; a somewhat horizontal slot in the pattern of grasses; she’d lain down and gone to sleep! Silly girl, overconfidence will be your loss. But I felt tired myself. But not tired enough to make my way towards her. The next half hour was long and careful, because I abandoned my backpack and anything else that might make noise and crept up on her silently in the light shoes I’d brought along just for this situation. I stayed downwind of her, and the wind stayed my friend. I approached within a hundred meters, fifty meters. What if it’s a fake, I suddenly thought? I hadn’t seen her on the plain for a while, but still…
No, it wasn’t. I could still smell her. Twenty meters. The wind now carried the sound of her breathing. I crept up a little closer. This was going to be too easy. Ten meters. Five.
I crawled on hands and toes towards her, making my way. She was still there, still asleep. I tapped her on the shoulder.
She awoke with a start and exploded in her sudden effort to escape. I plunged my hand down into her sleeping bag and struggled with her. She grabbed me, tried to shove me away, but I held tight with my right arm as the left sought for, found, and pulled away her flag. She shoved, and I released her, falling backwards, the flag in hand; she went running, and I finally got a good look at her face. “Hi, Tarrette.”
I whistled, and she stopped, turned, looked, saw the flag. She threw her arms out in frustration and walked back towards me. “Gotcha,” I said as she walked back.
“How did you find me?” she said.
“I’ve been behind you all the time.”
“But, I lost you last night. There’s no way…”
“Slept in a cave, Tarr.”
She growled. “I should have thought of that.”
“Hey, I almost lost you. But the last few hours were pretty easy. Makes up for that terrible day you gave me over Piter Pass.”
She smiled. “I bet you just hated that.”
“It was cold, rocky, and annoying.”
“Ah, you skins are all alike.”
“And you furries can be annoying,” I said, still smiling. “But that’s okay. At least I got you. Least I can do. You released twelve people!”
“Good. By the time we get to your camp they’ll be back at mine, preparing to wreak havoc. By the way, we know where your flag is.”
“So what? We know where yours is, too. The tough part is getting it. You know Irene stocked this game so that there’s not enough people to both guard the flags and make offensives.”
She frowned. “It’s going to rain.”
“I know. It helped me get closer; the cloud cover blocks light from the other sectors, making it much darker.”
“Well, now what?” She asked.
“You’re my prisoner, Tarr. You and I walk back to grey camp and we put you into the stockade.”
“I mean, right now.”
“Right now, we get some sleep.” She wasn’t about to walk away; there was a ruleskeeper drone above us, probably two, and they would disqualify her if she did. She seemed infinitely frustrated by her new role as passive prisoner, but those were the rules. “Let’s get your stuff together. We’ve got a short walk back to my gear.”
“What about the weather?” she asked, annoyed.
“If it rains, it rains. It’s warm, and right now I need sleep.”
She bit her lower lip and gathered up her backpack, grumbling all the while. We walked back to where I’d dropped my pack, rolled out our two bags and went to sleep. Luckily, it did not rain.
The next day, well after dawn, we broke what little camp we had, packing up and moving out. I kept her flag as a headband, enjoying the look on her face as I tied it on. I knew very little about Tarrette. She and P’nyssa had been lovers for several years, even raising a child together. I knew that she tended to be short-fused. She had been the first one to come to me and convince me to build Castle Rhysh. She was, however, very pretty, with very big eyes set a little farther apart than average, and large ears for a Felinzi. Her muzzle was short. Most attractive, however, was her build, because she very deliberately muscular.
We walked, she behind me, back towards the treeline, when finally the clouds broke. I reached into my backpack and pulled out my floppy hat; she had no such accouterment and merely grumbled louder. We walked on, but her grumbling was getting on my nerves. In the torrential rain vision was obscured and the ground became muddy. It was a very warm rain, humid and cloying, and she could not have been enjoying it all against her fur.
We reached the base of the mountain ridge and began the long, slow trek up it, along the path I’d taken earlier. As dark fell we hadn’t nearly made it to the cave I’d used before, or to anything else that might have been a shelter. Neither of us carried tents; I had a waterproof sleeping bag with a miniature head-net, mostly for bugs but it would help with the rain. We settled down under a large clump of heavier trees and hoped it would provide some sort of cover.
“This has got to be the worst night of my life,” she grumbled.
“Look,” I said, trying to be my usual, philosophical self and having a hard time of it, “This isn’t going to get any easier. Why don’t you let up?”
“And why don’t you fuck off?” she said.
I growled an unusually harsh slur in Uncia at her, my frustration between her complaining and the rain overcoming my usual good nature. Apparently she caught it, because she replied with something equally vile. That struck a nerve; I turned to face her. “Tarrette,” I said, “Ah tadi.” Prepare to be attacked.
She took the threat literally and in one coiled spring she leapt onto me. We went skidding together in the mud.
Her claws were out, and I barely avoided a nasty rake across my chest, rolling to my left and backwards, coming to my feet. She leapt to hers just as fast. “Come on, Ken, let’s see what you’ve got,” she hissed, waving one finger at me, an enormous, blood-thirsty smile on her face.
I charged her, the bloodlust coming onto me as I saw it did her, and as the rains poured down around us, I made a grab for her; she blocked. I slid to my knees and grabbed her thigh, hauling her down with me back into the mud. She struggled again to get free, but I held tight onto her jumpsuit.
There was a tearing sound, and she clawed her way out of her clothing, springing away and turning back towards me, roaring. I rolled, miscalculating; she hit me, her full weight thudding against my shoulder, but most of the impact was absorbed by the mud. Lightning flashed.
“If you want me to be your prisoner,” she hissed again as I rolled right again, trying to stand, “you’ll have to MAKE me submit!” Oh, ho, I realized.
“Okay, Tarr,” I said in low, Uncia growl, “if that’s the way you want it, come and get it.” In the dark, I looked for her; instead, she found me, coming out of the darkness in a heated rush and raking my back with her claws. Her claws never connected with my flesh, but I heard a loud ripping sound. She vanished again.
“Cute, girl. Come on, you can do better than that,” I said. She growled somewhere in the dark and the rain. The lightning flashed again, but revealed nothing. I suddenly realized what that attack had accomplished; in a single step I found my pants had lost structural integrity. I started to strip them off, and just as I had them free she attacked again, hitting me with a wrestling hold from the rear. My response was to throw her over my shoulder.
The exertion had gotten me as excited as she was, and I was sporting an erection that, had I been an outside observer, must have looked ridiculous. But inside, I was hot, excited, burning, and I leapt upon her even as she shook her head to clear it from the throw. With my legs I tried to pry hers apart, but she fought, kicking and hitting.
I grabbed her arms and held them down, but her legs kicked at me while I thrust my hard cock against her cunt. She looked up at me, a mixture of lust, anger and pain on her beautiful face, and she snarled “Do it. Do it to me, you want it.” I obliged, thrusting into her with one hard, crashing thrust. She howled. I released her arms, and I began to fuck her without mercy. She wrapped her arms and legs around my back, and as I pounded home my cock, she clawed her way across my back; the pain was a searing, white thing in my head, but I ignored it, screamed past it, and ravished her there, in the hot mud and rain, fucking her. She screamed and fought, but escape was not her purpose. We rolled in the mud, and I felt the dirt get into my wounds, and she wound up on top as I groaned.
She held my cock inside her, and began to respond to it with the same force I had, coming down in sharp, powerful slams that forced my cock back against her cervix with every impact. I groaned, and she hammered on, harder and more forceful, stroking me, snarling incoherently. I reached up and grabbed her shoulders; she planted her hands into the ground and forced me to haul myself up to her. I kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around my head, her tongue lunging into my mouth, fighting with mine. I fell back into the mud, and with a single kick rolled us over, me on top, and picking myself up from her I kept on slamming home into her cunt, and her howls and screams were reaching a fever pitch as I did, and I felt her shoulder was under my snarling teeth, and I was going to come, and as I came I bit her, losing control and tasting blood.
I subsided, raising myself off of her. She blinked a few times as the rain continued with slightly less force than before. “You okay?” she asked.
I swallowed, pushed a few loose hairs away, nodded. “You?” I said.
She nodded. I slid my shrinking erection out of her, shuddering with the delicious effort, and slowly rose to my feet. The effort made my head spin, but I shook and cleared my vision, and helped her up. We located our soaking wet camp and she applied long strips of HN-gauze to the crisscross-crossed streaks across my back. “How bad is it?” I asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, come on, Tarr, I’ve been clawed during sex before. Ember does it to me all the time.”
“Not like this. I’m sorry, Ken, but I’ve never seen marks like this before- I’ve certainly never made marks like this before. Are you sure you can use both arms?” That worried me.
I windmilled both arms through a full 360 degrees. It hurt like hell, and I could feel muscles moving the wrong way over other muscle sheathes as I used the left arm. “Tarr? Sling my left arm.”
“I thought so. Will you be okay?”
“I’m full of nanobiotics, I should be okay, health-wise. But from a structural point of view, I’m mess.”
She nodded. “I thought so.” We cast about for our clothes, put on spare sets and used the remainder to fashion me a sling.
“How’s your shoulder?” I asked. There was a lot of blood caked at the crux of her throat.
“Hurts, a lot,” she said, with a smile. “But I’ve had worse. Your timing was good, though.”
“Was it?” I asked.
“Third climax,” she said, with a cheery smile in the rain. “But I’ll be okay. I’ve put NB’s on it and bandaged it as well as possible. Nothing we can do until we get to your camp, and that’s at least two days away.”
“Yeah.” I stopped for a moment, and then said, “Tarr, what led you to that?”
“Fighting like that. The aggression.”
She shrugged. “Dunno. But once we started, I just got… aroused, you know? Besides, I wanted to see if P’nyssa’s opinion that you were ‘good’ was right.”
I was curious. “Well?”
“Eh,” she said. “You’re good enough,” she said with a smile.
“Have to do it again, sometime,” I said.
Her eyes widened, and she said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not on your life.”
The next day brought a clearing of the weather, and wearily we trudged up the side of Piter’s ridge. She grumbled less this time, and we talked cheerfully. My arm was useless slung as it was, and I needed her help. I was fortunate that she’d torn up my left arm since I’m mostly right handed, although if I’d been flying I usually pilot with my left hand, since it’s the one that’s most dexterous. We passed my cave and headed for the last peak in the ridge, up into the cold heights. The ridge is not very big, but the temperature change can be dramatic.
That night we stopped and made camp. This time, with the cold and the drier weather, we made a substantial fire, trying to warm up.
“Did you and Nyss get along?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Yes and no. She’s more het than you are, I think. She really prefers your company anyway. Besides, sometimes I’m just a little too butch for her.”
“After last night, I can’t imagine why.”
She chuckled. She has magnificent eyes.
A short while later, she walked around and slowly peeled off my shirt. “Your wounds didn’t bleed, thanks to the NB’s. But that repair should still be corrected by a healer when you get to your campsite.” Her fingers were delicate and gentle against my ravaged back, and I cooed with the pleasure of her gentler touch.
“Like that?” she said with an amused voice.
“Very much. I’m very ticklish on my back.”
Her response was to slowly wrap her arms around me from behind, taking my nipples in between her fingers and slowly twisting them. My response was instantaneous; I groaned aloud and closed my eyes, feeling the small electric jabs that that does to me course between them. My erection swelled to it’s full length, and one of her paws slid down to stroke it through the material of my jeans. I leaned back against her, very aware of my tender back, but enjoying what she was doing far too much to give a damn.
She laughed quietly and said, “You’re very excitable.”
“Very,” I whispered.
She laughed again, and said “Give me your hand.”
I gave her my right hand, and she looked at it closely. I looked over my shoulder at her, and she said, “Stay right here.” She rose and walked out of the immediate firelight to her backpack, retrieved something from a small pouch, and returned. She sat to my immediate right and took my hand again. She produced a nail clipper and a file, and proceeded to give me a manicure. I guessed what she had in mind, and chuckled. “You really want to do what I’m thinking?”
She said, “You had yours last night.”
“And you didn’t enjoy it?”
“I didn’t say that.” She released my hand and said, “You know what I want.”
I did at that. I leaned over to her and unzipped the denim jumpsuit she wore down to her groin. She smiled as her furry belly was exposed, and I pulled aside the material to expose her small, soft breasts. I bent down and took her nipple between my teeth, biting down gently, then a little sharper. Her body went rigid, little mewls escaping her. My smile went to a full leer.
I pulled the suit off of her shoulders, then down. She raised her hips… I paused for a second, ran back and got my sleeping bag, opened it and placed it next to the fire. She scooted onto it, wiped her palms together to clear off the sand, and I helped her shimmy the rest of the way out of her jumpsuit. Naked, she was gorgeous; her thick golden fur barely obscured those well-defined muscles. Her legs were striking, like bands of wire cable, powered-armor cabling, sliding and rippling under fur. I placed my backpack and her bag behind her, and she leaned back, her legs spread.
I sat cross-legged between her legs and began to gently tickle her belly, and she mewled again in pleasure. “Want it straight,” I said, almost a question.
“Mm, hmm…” she said with an almost answering tone of acknowledgment. I felt my smile return as I trailed my fingers down to her cunt, her lips full and pouting. I laughed, running my thumb down her slit, parting her lips. She was wet, anticipating. I touched her with my weak left hand to maintain contact; her eyes were closed, and my style says never let them think you’ve gone unless you mean it. So I stayed in touch with her while I brought my right hand to her muzzle and slid my index finger into her mouth. “Lick it,” I said,
She did. “Get it wet, kittykat,” I urged. When she had done a good job, I placed my right hand back between her thighs and slid my finger into her cunt. She groaned aloud again as I stroked my finger in and out. I pulled out all the way and slid a second finger.
Her juices were flowing freely and that was one of the reasons I’d chosen my sleeping bag; I wanted the scent of her juices imbedded in the cloth to keep me warm at night. I slid in a third finger.
Three fingers make an opening. With a few simple flexes I made room for my pinky. She groaned as I fucked her slowly with all four fingers, her vagina opening up and sometimes trying to suck me in, and the crux of my palm was next, the widest part of my hand until my thumb.
I rocked my hand back and forth, going deeper, and with one surprisingly gentle push my palm slid in up to the thumb. She shuddered, a loud growl escaping her. Her chest rose and fell with huge, deep, relaxing breaths as I slid my hand back out and folded the thumb against the palm. I began to fuck her gently again, feeling her flesh expand around my hand.
Each push got another millimeter in, another millimeter wet, and once I felt the cool wetness on the back of my hand, I had it, and I slid my entire hand into her cunt, folding my finger back as I did so, canting the wrist so that the thumb led. I rotated it gently around the nubbin I felt to be her cervix and she groaned. I held my fist there, inside her; the sight of my wrist leading into her body fascinated me.
“Ken,” she said. “Fuck me.” I began to pump slightly, and her fingers sought her clit as I fucked her, caressing her vagina with my fingers, exploring every expanded nook, roiling about inside her body. Her fingers twisted and tortured her clit, and I leaned over and took a nipple between my teeth. The two of us worked to take her teetering to the edge of ecstasy, my fist rocking back and forth inside her, my tongue and teeth abusing her nipples as she did gentle violence to her clitoris, and I knew she had finally come when she let out a howl that must have scared off every bit of wildlife in a hundred klicks.
She turned on her side and slid off of my hand. I raised my hand to my lips and began to lick it quietly. She watched me with an intent expression as I cleaned my hand off, tasting her sweet cunt juices that had inundated me and my bedding. Halfway through, she took my hand by the wrist and pulled it away from me, towards her. We shared and the feeling of our two tongues roaming over my hand tickled. I laughed.
There’s wasn’t anything else to say. Tomorrow we would return to the my side’s gamesite and she would be put in the stocks until the game ended or one side won. I encouraged the fire to burn hotter, quicker, rearranging the wood to encourage more airflow. After a while, she sat next to me and said “Thanks.”
I shrugged with a grin on my face. “I liked it.”
She nodded. After a while the fire had fallen low enough I felt safe going to sleep with it, and we cuddled together under our blankets. Although I could smell her sex all night long, her presence kept me warm enough.