?? CHAPTER 13 ??
Ryle
Maysee doesn’t want to walk anymore, but she holds her silence. I hold her hand. She’s got more energy now that we’ve taken care of our bodily needs (well, most of them) but I get the impression that she’d rather stay hidden away for a while longer.
I wouldn’t mind it myself. But I know my crew must be worrying about me, and her crew must be worrying about her, and really we still don’t have the full scope of dangers of this forest. We are lucky that all we’ve gotten so far is a few small bites and bumps.
We’re drawing close to the ocean now. I can hear the crashing of the waves, a different set of bird chirps. The trees are growing sparser, less needle-y and more leafy like the ones back around our camps. The dirt on the ground grows more coarse. More sandy.
The suns are moving into their late-day placement when we emerge from the trees and approach the shoreline.
“Wow,” Maysee says. I have to agree. We’ve visited many landscapes during the course of our training - jungles, forests, glaciers, and deserts. But we were discontinued before we reached an ocean.
This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. One of the setting suns makes the unbroken expanse of the green sea shimmer like stars. Yet it’s my mate’s face, her reaction, that truly transfixes me. The wind whips her hair around her face as she gazes out at the water with awe. She sweeps it behind her ears and she smiles at me. “It’s beautiful!” she says.
I learned that word. “Yes. Much.” The planet’s golden rings are visible here, too, stretching far out beyond the sea and back over the cliffs into the forests. Just how large is this planet? I’m sure we can deduce it once we’ve worked out the path of our movements around the sun… there are better brains for that type of thinking back at my camp. I have a mind more pliable for languages than maths.
We stroll down to the wet part of the sand. Maysee yanks her boots off and rolls up her pant legs. Laughing madly, she darts out into the rolling water. Just up to her ankles, thank goodness. I can swim, but I don’t have experience with the rougher waves churning the water further out.
She stops when the water covers her feet. She kicks it, splashing, then sniffs the air. Then she bends down, touches the water, and tastes it.
“Drink!” she laughs. She spreads her arms and gestures at the whole wide ocean, repeating “drink” again somewhere in her flood of words. Like she’s surprised. Are you not supposed to drink this water?
“Swim?” she shouts at me. She makes a paddling motion with her arms.
I grimace. Out there? It’s so huge, so far! What if she gets swept away from me? But I can’t get the protests out of my mouth. She unzips her jumpsuit and lets it fall to the sand, revealing her small underclothes, her soft curves, her smooth, pale skin. Her shoulders are covered in little pinprick dots. I run my finger over them. They don’t brush off, either. “Freckles,” she says. They’re utterly charming. And as much as I want to stop her from swimming out there, I’m powerless. If the ocean makes her this happy? I’ll find a way to keep her safe, whatever happens.
She turns her back to me as she drops her underthings and crosses her arms over her breasts. Why would she hide them?
“Show me,” I say, the same way she said it in the cave when she wanted to see my cock. I got a little carried away, but she seemed to enjoy watching.
She watches me over her shoulder for a moment. Her cheeks flush as she finally turns and lowers her arms. Her breasts are so round and soft and dusted with freckles, too. I long to touch them, to squeeze, or even dare to lick. I long to run my thumbs over the small pink nipples, find out if they’re as sensitive as they look. I want to rest my head upon her.
“Beautiful,” I say, and her cheeks flush again. She crosses her legs as she tries to hide her parts there. But I notice an adorable tuft of hair. What is that for? Is what it hides so different from our SexTrons’ pussys at the barracks? She clears her throat.
“Swim!” she declares. And she skips out into the sea.
I drop my kilt as quickly as I can and follow her into the cool waves. How do I tell her not to go too far? “Short walk!” I shout at her.
“Okay!” She stops where the water reaches her waist. “Here!” Then she drops, letting the waves rolls over her shoulders. “Nice,” she says. “Good. Clean!” She laughs, and she sweeps her arm through the water, splashing me. I grin. This female!
I cup my hands and splash her right back. A little too much. The wave washes over her face and hair. She straights back up, spitting and spluttering.
“Ryle,” she admonishes with laughter. She leans down to splash me again, then skips further away, kicking her knees high. I chase, but only halfheartedly. Her parts bounce so deliciously with her movements. She stops where the water is only partway up her thighs. Good. The waves aren’t the only danger. I can see through to our feet here, but if we venture much deeper, who knows what underwater animals will lurk around our ankles?
She bites her lip when she glances at my erection.
“You,” I say, chiding. It is her fault, after all. What male wouldn’t swell at the sight of her like this? “Show me,” I say to her, gesturing at that mysterious tuft.
“Show you?!” She turns away again, and much as I enjoy the view of my mate’s ass, I want to get to know all of her.
“Learning,” I say with an exaggerated shrug.
She hesitates, but she nods. She pushes the hair aside - there’s puffy flesh below, but I still can’t see much. I cautiously approach and then kneel before her in the water. “Oh, God,” she says, a word I haven’t learned, but she sounds embarrassed. Shy.
I take her hand, guide it to her softness. I want her to show me the way I showed her. I want to see what she likes. “Show,” I urge.
She says words that sound unsure, but her hand settles between her legs and she shows me. She sweeps her fingers through her pink folds once, hesitates, then again. Her fingers glisten with her wetness. A product of her arousal. She is enjoying this, just as I enjoyed having her eyes on me.