Page 21 of You're Not My King!

I was strangely careful, following each swell and sharp edge of his shoulders with the tips of my claws. Unlike my scaled flesh, which stayed its burgundy hue except during breeding season, there were patches of rosiness growing on Roo-bin’s sickly cheeks the more I touched. His neck and chest were already stained, but bloomed darker the longer I stared, and his pebbled teats demanded attention, supple and engorged with arousal. I did not have teats—only fertile Ly’zrd ripe for breeding or those already carrying young grew the means to feed.

Was this different for Earth creatures?

Or could my mate be bred?

My cock jumped, intrigued by the thought of him fat with my eggs and bearing my pups. Healer Fee-oh-nah had insisted that hoo-man males could not carry, but perhaps she had misspoken; she was not fluent in our tongue, after all. But it would wait. His body was unfit for such a drastic change, even if it were a possibility, and though I took pleasure in the fantasy, I would not risk his life. There were many ways to have young, if my mate shared those desires.

In time.

Roo-bin’s decorated lips parted on a moan, head tipping back as I pinched and tugged those buds. He shivered, so I did it again, harder and harder until he writhed, his back arching and hips rolling. The enticing movement brought my eyes to his rib cage, prominent and delicate as it was. I had suspected he was underfed by the lightness of him in my lap. I was prepared to see the outline of his bones protruding where they should not be, but it was unsettling nonetheless. He was not Ly’zrd; he possessed none of the natural advantages of our tough skin or heightened strength. It made him no less tempting, but combining his slightness with the fragility of his hide, he would be vulnerable to harsher weather and easier prey for a large number of beasts. Extra care would have to be taken. I would offer plenty of fresh kills and feed him personally to be sure he was kept plump and healthy.

I released a deep, satisfied growl at the idea of providing for the helpless creature, but unlike the other sounds I had made, this one had the hoo-man flinching. He gasped out of his contentment, his worried eyes flicking to mine before he shielded his torso and cowered inward. His throat bobbed on a swallow, and I reached out, cupping his nape and squeezing to appease his fear. I wanted to admire him, to give him pleasure, not shame him.

He need not be shy around me.

“Do not hide,” I murmured in the language he did not speak. “You are a divine creature, and no harm will come to you here.”

I knew Roo-bin would not understand a word, but the tension in his frame loosened as if my voice and touch soothed him. “Oh-kay.”

I nodded at his word of approval and unfolded his arms. I had learned scraps of the hoo-man language from Healer Fee-oh-nah; less than my brethren, but as much as I had patience for. It was enough. Hoo-man emotions were intricate, and they were worn loudly—unlike Ly’zrd, who revealed only what was necessary—so I would use Roo-bin’s body language to understand what my ears could not. I had been Chief of the Hunt before ascending as Great Leader of U’suhk. Silence was of high importance when stalking prey, so other forms of communication were enforced, such as finger signals and facial cues. It was a skill that had served me well, and already I had managed to interpret my mate’s fickle moods and anything he struggled to say. His cloudy eyes spoke truer than his lips ever could, as did his musky scent and the raspy tone of his chirps. He reminded me of a c’karuucha—a small, durable beast that, despite its size, could withstand the hottest fires and heaviest winds.

It also squirmed uncontrollably, and the sounds it created changed depending on its intention, making it a simple creature to read. Just like my Roo-bin, who was nuzzling into the hand I had slid from his neck to his cheek, his scent rich and fragrant, clearly waiting for me to take advantage of all the sensitive spots that made him squeal. I laid him atop the furs, tenderly, as if he were a treasure. He was fragile. Precious. Too rough and bruises would bloom on his flesh, too quick and I risked shattering bone. For that reason alone, I propped myself beside him, resting on my forearm to allow my other hand to venture.

I barely stifled a scoff at my own actions, at the indulgent pace that contrasted with the possessive need raging inside. Never had I held back my urges. Never had I wished to linger. At moonsfall, when we had stood before the great Wy’loa and bound ourselves to one another, I had thought of mounting him right there for all to witness. The hoo-man was mine, and I would claim him, but… he had appealed to a side of me I had not known existed. He was no meek pup, shivering with its tail coiled between its legs. I sensed the fire in his belly, the storms he had endured, but he was untrusting and unsure of our customs, so I would be considerate and tame my bestial nature until I knew his limits.

Or until he leaked tears and pleaded for more.

I grazed lips and fingers over the zones that drew out the loudest noises: the shell of his ear, the pebbles on his chest, and his ample rump. For one so lean, he had a plumpness to his behind that I, and my cock, appreciated. It would jiggle, I mused, and slap against my thighs as I hammered into him.

Gritting my teeth, I continued on, learning how the hoo-man took his pleasure by following the signs his body gave. I brushed the inky lines across his skin, etchings like I had and which we now shared—symbols of power and status—but more intricately designed. A rope-like creature wove over his shoulder, the pointed tail twisting down his pec as the bulbous head, with forked tongue, lay on the side of his neck. It was not an animal familiar to me, nor were the winged beasts soaring up his flank—U’suhk had its share of sky-dwellers, but none so round and approachable. The last of his markings was a folded petal curving around his rump. I could not see the entire thing, but relished the fact that I would get to trace its pattern soon; a sight I would thoroughly enjoy.

But not yet. Patience was my lesson to learn.

The hoo-man whimpered, a slur of words tumbling from his lips, but only a few I recognized. He sounded tormented, desperate, his hips grinding up as if to seduce my gaze toward his neglected cock. The unfortunate little thing was in a state, murmuring and moaning, hunger shimmering in those gray eyes. Compelled, I did as he had before and joined our mouths, drinking down the vibration of his chittering, my tongue flicking over the silver spikes under his bottom lip. I liked this—the mating of tongues. I liked tasting his essence, feeling him yield under my attentions.

It was addictive.

And distracting.

Blindly, my hand ventured lower, past the hoo-man’s belly to the delicate sac hanging below his cock. I did not have this either, and wondered at its purpose before I retracted my claws and crooked two fingers underneath, seeking his mating hole. It was speckled with fur, and smaller than I was used to, but it matched his stature. It would be no obstacle. He had been made for me, his body created to welcome mine. I would fit—right down to the root—but to ease his discomfort, I would simply be sure that he was sopping wet before taking him.

I circled a finger around that furled opening, the tip almost breaching when the creature winced and parted from my lips. “Loob,” he panted, the word foreign to me. “Need loob.”

The hoo-man was trying to voice something important, but I was distracted by the dryness that met my probing. It was… odd. Ly’zrd became wet and supple for their mates—both male and female, depending on who would receive the seed. It was an instinctual reaction to the bond. Was my Roo-bin unable to secrete? His stiff cock and heady scent proved arousal, but perhaps he needed more stimulation. Was this a defect, or a typical occurrence for his species? I would not judge, but my pride insisted on knowing every secret to thoroughly slaking my mate’s thirst.

I was not known for my ignorance in the furs.

Nor would I be now.

I must have delayed too long, staring in fascination, as the hoo-man voiced an impatient groan and seized my cock in his hand. I inhaled sharply, tensing as he rubbed my shaft, gathering the natural relaxant from my gylls. My brow pinched in both confusion and arousal, but the creature offered no mercy. He spread his legs wider and fondled his pulsing ring before dipping a finger inside.

Oh.

I bared fang in a wicked grin, making his heart skip. He was preparing himself. For me. And I could do nothing but watch, equally charmed and fascinated as one, then two fingers disappeared into that tiny pink cavern. The crinkled muscle stretched and loosened, the hoo-man’s breaths shaking as he tunneled deeper. My own hand was restless, flexing with the pressure of being idle as my mate labored to perform. I finally gave in to temptation, pausing to stroke the puffy skin before sinking a finger in beside his, growling at the snug fit.

It was hot to the touch, sleek and silken, and my cock shuddered with eagerness to feel its grip, to stuff him with seed until it wept down his thighs. I rocked against his leg like a rut-crazed beast, the friction a mockery of what I really hungered for. My control had its limits, and this sweet sampling of his insides was the final snap of a thread.

I guided our laced fingers, curling and tugging to quicken the process of readying him. It was an effortless pursuit once I discovered the swollen bud that made him jerk and howl. He smelled delicious, his flesh glistening with musky sweat like a har’kol gem in the dual moons’ light as he chased my touch, bucking almost feverishly against my ridged knuckles. I kneaded that spot until he whimpered, swallowing four digits with ease, his opening winking and gaping even after I had removed them.

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