I knew she wished this “honey moon.” She spoke of it yesterday after we arrived in the cave, and spoke of it again last night in our furs.
A trip, but one for love and bonding between a newly mated pair.
I am good at hunting. I am good at tracking. Good with a spear and with making weapons. I am passable with nets and fast on my feet…but I do not know how to give a mate “romance.” I do not know how to do “more” for her to show her my pleasure.
I do not even know where to begin.
Liz holds my hand as we walk, chatting about Georgie and the healer and the chief’s kit which Georgie will not be having for many, many moons yet. I should be listening to her, but instead, I think of the conversation I had with Zennek this morning, while my mate was asleep.
I sat by the fire, stitching thicker soles onto Liz’s boots so the snows would not make her feet so cold. It was very early, but it was hard for me to sleep. We bedded down with the rest of the hunters, and while Liz is unbothered by this, I cannot sleep next to all of them and just hold her. Not when she presses her body to mine and makes delicious little sighs as she moves closer.
It is too distracting.
So I worked on her boots instead, and Zennek came to the fire and crouched by me. He seemed…happy. Content. His neck is covered in deep blue welts, though, and I cannot help but point that out. “Did something bite you?”
He is confused, and when I gesture at his neck, his smile changes to a slow one of satisfaction. “My mate.”
Ah yes. The fierce Mar-lenn. Of all the females, I have heard she is the boldest, and she seems quite eager to lead Zennek around by his cock. He would know what to do on a honey moon, I realize. Zennek is quiet like me, but where I am quiet because I am awkward and ugly and a loner, Zennek is just silent in nature. That has not changed since he took a mate, I noticed. Mar-lenn is just as content as he is to stand apart from the group. They need no one but each other.
I envy that serenity.
Even so, Zennek is a good one to ask. “My mate wants me to give her romance on our next hunting trip,” I say, feeling foolish. I shove my awl through the leather of Liz’s boot, hoping Zennek does not see how awkward I feel. “I am open to ideas.”
His mouth curls with amusement. “You are asking me how you should woo your mate?”
“I know how to woo her,” I snap. “I am asking for new ideas. Things to surprise her. Things that humans like that I have not thought of.”
Zennek looks thoughtful even as I stab the boot in my hands. “I see. You ask me because Mar-lenn is not shy about such things.” When I nod, he rubs his jaw, thinking hard. “The easiest thing to do is pleasure a female, but you know that.”
“I do.” I take a calmer stitch. “I had no mate before Liz. I…want her to be happy.” And I am ugly and an outcast and I do not know if I can keep her satisfied. I keep those terrible thoughts to myself.
He considers this. “Mar-lenn likes words,” he says after a time.
“Words?”
Zennek nods. “Strong words. Bold words. I tell her what I am going to do to her and how, and I say these as I touch her. It makes her excited.”
Interesting. Do I speak to my Liz when we mate? I try to picture myself telling her “I am going to put my cock inside you now” and cannot imagine how that will arouse a female. But Zennek’s mate looks well pleased. I eye him, curious because of all our tribe, Zennek is the quietest.
Yet if his mate wants words, she must be happy to give those welts to him.
I think about those welts on his neck as I walk with Liz’s hand in mine. Words. Bold words as I touch her. I might need to practice this.
So as we walk, I think about what words I will say to Liz and how.
This is harder than it sounds.
* * *
We walk for most of the afternoon. Liz is stronger than a lot of the females, but her legs are shorter than mine and I clip my strides to keep pace with her. We do not get as far as I would on my own, but when we near a hunter cave, I steer her toward it. “We will stop here for the night.”
“Finally,” she says dramatically. “I’m exhausted.”
I cup her face in my hands, noticing that her eyelids are heavy. She smiles up at me, leaning into my touch. “You did not tell me you were tired,” I say, my voice accusing.