Page 99 of Rok's Captive
Once I check the interior to ensure no creatures linger there, I do a chin jerk, then gesture for her to enter the cave while I secure the area. She hesitates, glancing at me with a question in her eyes, but then complies, disappearing into the shadowed interior.
The moment she is out of sight, I lean against the stone wall, my chest heaving with the effort of restraint. My stem is painfully hard, straining against the hide covering, demanding attention I cannot give it. Not here. Not now. Not with Jus-teen so close, so vulnerable, depending on me for protection.
I force myself to focus on practical matters. Sustenance. Water. Shelter. These are the priorities, not the insistent throbbing between my legs.
With determined strides, I move away from the cave, scanning the surrounding terrain for signs of prey. It doesn’t take long to spot a colony of dust crabs—small, six-legged creatures that burrow just beneath the surface of the dust. They aren’t as substantial as our previous meals, but they’re plentiful and easy to catch.
I harvest a dozen of them, pinning each with a quick strike of my claw before adding them to the collection. Their flesh is bitter but nutritious, and properly prepared, they will provide enough sustenance for both of us until dawn.
When I return to the cave, I find Jus-teen sitting cross-legged on the floor. She looks up as I enter, her expression brightening at the sight of food, though that hope quickly fades when she realizes what I’ve brought.
I settle across from her, setting my catch between us. Unlike our previous shelter, this barren cave offers no fuel for kindling. We will have to consume the dust crabs raw—a prospect I know will not please her.
She watches intently as I begin to prepare the small creatures, my claws working to remove the poisonous glands and bitter organs. Her brow furrows slightly, and I catch her glancing around the cave, perhaps searching for something to burn.
“No fire,” I project, though I do not think she receives the message. I mimic creating a flame with my claws, then spread them wide—the gesture for absence among my people.
For a moment, she blinks at me and then understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by poorly concealed dismay as she looks back at the pale, glistening flesh of the dust crabs. To her credit, she doesn’t recoil, merely takes a deep breath as if steeling herself for an unpleasant task.
When I offer her a portion—the best parts, with the least bitterness—she accepts it with a grateful nod, though her expression suggests she’s preparing for battle rather than a meal.
Her first bite is cautious, tentative. She chews slowly, her face contorting briefly before she forces herself to swallow. But she doesn’t complain, merely continues eating with determined efficiency, washing down each bite with small sips from what’s left in her gourd.
I will need to carve her a better one, I think as I watch her eat. It is hard not to admire her resilience, her adaptability. She is stronger than she appears, this soft creature from beyond the dust.
But as she eats, my gaze shifts to the movement of her throat as she swallows, the way her lips press together between bites, the occasional dart of her tongue to catch a stray morsel. Each small action sends a fresh pulse of heat through me, stoking the fire that has been building all day.
I cannot continue like this. The pressure is becoming unbearable, the need too insistent to ignore. If I remain here, watching her, I fear what I might do—what primal impulse might override my reason and honor.
“Rest,” I lean forward, touching my forehead to hers briefly before rising to my feet more abruptly than I intended.
She looks up at me, confusion clear in her expression. “Where are you going?” she vocalizes, her tone making the question clear even if I don’t understand her words.
I gesture vaguely toward the cave entrance, then mimic the motion of scanning the horizon.
I don’t wait for her response, striding quickly from the cave before my resolve can weaken. The cool evening air is a relief against my heated skin, but it does nothing to dampen the insistent throbbing between my thighs.
I move a short distance from the cave, just far enough that she won’t hear or see me, but close enough that I can reach her quickly if danger approaches. Finding a secluded spot behind a large boulder, I lean against the cooling stone and finally allow myself to address the need that has been tormenting me all day.
With swift, decisive movements, I unfasten the hide covering, freeing my stem from its confines. It springs forth eagerly, fully extended and aching with need. The sacs beneath it feel heavier than before, tight and full of something I instinctively know must be released.
I wrap my claw around the length of it, flinching slightly at even that light touch. The sensitivity is almost painful, but the pleasure that follows the pain is immediate and intense.
As I begin to move my claw, stroking from base to tip and back again, I close my eyes and let the sensation wash over me. Images of Jus-teen fill my mind—her perfection, her laugh, the way she looked at me when I transformed, fear and wonder mingling in her expression.
I think of her body pressed against mine as I carried her across the dust, the feel of her soft curves, the scent of her skin. I remember the taste of her essence, sweet and tangy on my tongue, and the sounds she made when pleasure overtook her.
The memory alone is enough to make my movements quicken, my breath coming in harsh pants as the pressure builds. I should feel shame for using thoughts of her this way, but I cannot bring myself to care. Not when the release is so close, so desperately needed.
When it comes, it is even more powerful than before—a surge of pleasure so intense it nearly brings me to my knees, my claw squeezing rhythmically as wetness spills over my fingers in pulsing waves. For moments afterward, I can only lean against the stone, trembling, as my body slowly calms.
The relief is immediate but incomplete. Like a thirst only partially quenched, it leaves me satisfied for the moment but aware that the need will return. And with it, the knowledge that what my body truly craves cannot be satisfied by my own touch.
I clean myself as best I can, brief guilt as I bury the moisture beneath the dust and refasten the hide covering. I make a quick circuit of our shelter to ensure no threats have approached while I was…distracted. Finding nothing concerning, I return to the cave, composed once more, ready to face Jus-teen without the overwhelming desperation that drove me away.
She looks up as I enter, her expression questioning but not suspicious. “Everything okay out there?” she asks, gesturing toward the entrance.
I nod, moving to sit across from her against the opposite wall of the cave. The distance between us is necessary, I tell myself. Safe.
