Page 11 of Sweet Berries (Cambric Creek 2)

She had taken his arm again, almost unconsciously, mollified at his reaction to the question. The velvet of his skin was soft and sleek, and she would've been lying if she pretended she didn't want to feel its smoothness stretched across her entire body. As they drifted across the balcony, Grace tried to imagine what he would feel like above her, every inch of that plush sleekness pressed to her bare skin, his surprising weight sinking her into the mattress. She wondered how soft his velvet would feel against the inside of her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips, pinned beneath his weight as he moved against her.

He shook his head ruefully. "Maybe, I don’t know. I’m sure they exist, but they're smoother than me. No one wants to hear about hummingbirds and bats when they come home at night, and that's all I ever talk about."

Her unrestrained laughter echoed off the circular wall to their backs, and Grace was happy to note that for the first time, his smile was just as wide as hers.

“Well,Ilike bats and hummingbirds. I want to hear more about what you do.”

His pointed little fangs gleamed white in the darkness, and she wondered if they would be sharp against the delicate skin of her throat, how they might scrape over the swollen buds of her nipples, trying to imagine them grazing her inner thighs. She was excited to go back to his place, she decided.He’s adorable and awkward, and if books and movies have taught us nothing else, it’s always the cute nerdy guy who loves to eat pussy.Grace blushed as she grinned, wondering if he’d notice the fire moving across her face, mirrored in the fire she felt spreading between her thighs at the thought of fangs against her skin. After all, hadn’t she determinedthatwas what had been missing from her fantasies about the big bull at work? She wanted to know what those little fangs would feel like nipping at the most sensitive parts of her, wanted him to do . . . whatever the fuck it was he’d done to her the last time, before his tongue made her see stars.He nearly made you pass out and that was from outside the window!

"I've never lived anywhere like this," he went on, oblivious to how wet she was making herself, just thinking about what they might do that night. "Like I said, I'm used to working with humans. Well," he corrected himself, "I'm used to being the only nonhuman in the lab, I guess that's more accurate to say. I very rarely workwithpeople. And most of the time it didn’t matter, because I was the only one coming in after normal working hours. Here I have to get used to actually having co-workers in the lab with me in the middle of the night."

Her mind was stuck in a quagmire of thick, grasping mud, unable to work out the meaning of his words for several beats. In the distance, thunder rumbled beyond the trees, and he clicked in disappointment at the sound, his brow furrowing as he looked out at the middle distance.

“We're not going to get to do much stargazing," he murmured mournfully, a sad little chirp punctuating his words. "I had the telescope set up for you and everything."

"Wait, what do you mean — are you . . . holy shit, are-are you nocturnal?" He blinked dolefully down at her, as if he weren't sure how he was meant to respond to her clearly idiotic question. There were other moth families in town, he was far from the only mothman Cambric Creek, several of whom patronized the farm regularly . . . and whom, she realized with dawning clarity, she'd never actually seen visit in the day.

There was a little family she was particularly fond of, husband and wife identical in their brown and orange markings, with wings bearing the great wide eyes of an owl, each wearing thick glasses. They had two small children, and Grace remembered the very first time she'd met them — their baby had been a fat, waving caterpillar, their little boy attempting mightily to hover off the ground on translucent, fledgling wings amongst the cornstalks. She had never seen them visit in the afternoons, had never greeted them at any of the daytime picnics or carnivals the farm hosted throughout the seasons . . . but she had seen them at her early morning table at the Maker's Mart, had smiled and waved the evening of the May Day fireworks. Each Saturday morning, local vendors and crafters set up tables in the community lot to peddle their wares, and she absolutely remembered them visiting the farm table, when the lot was still lit with hazy, early morning light. Merrick had shown up at the farm at dusk.

His jaw worked in what was likely another hard swallow, concealed by his mantle, and she was certain he would be flushing like a cherry if he were able. "Crepuscular, technically. I-I start my day in the evening, and I usually work overnight. I can come out in the day though," he said quickly, red eyes darting between the railing and her, as if he couldn't bear to make prolonged eye contact at that moment. "It's not like I turn to dust or anything. That's-that's actually what I study. The circadian rhythm of local pollinators and how they’re disturbed by agricultural impacts. I would be able to come in and work during the day if I had to, the only adverse effects I might suffer would be crankiness.” He paused, head cocking. “And that's everyone else's problem more than it would be mine," he added wryly, and she grinned again. "But when local pollinator populations are disturbed by agricultural and environmental stressors, it decreases their ability to effectively do their jobs. The animals suffer because they run into food scarcity issues they might not have otherwise, and crop diversity suffers without a robust pollinator community."

He continued to speak, his free hand dancing in the air to illustrate his increasingly complex points. Grace leaned on his arm as she grinned up at him, noting that he was easily able to support her weight without even shifting. His deep voice had evened out since the darkness had closed in around them, the slight stammer he possessed completely absent as he discussed his work, a confident edge replacing the chirping anxiety he had previously displayed.Such a passionate, adorable dork.

He cut off abruptly a few minutes later, mouth hanging open, his hand still suspended in the air. His fluffy antennae, which had been bobbing around as he spoke, now flattened to the side of his head, flush against his pointed ears.

"See," he laughed uncomfortably, lifting his shoulder in another self-deprecating, one-armed shrug, "this is why I'm single."

Adorkable. She was glad they'd moved outside, for she was unable to hold in her giggles, and she knew without a doubt the sour old reptilian couple would be huffing and puffing at her noisy display.

"So you used to be all alone in your old lab? Where was this?"

"Oh, all over. I've lived all over. Fellowships end, program funding is cut, research stipends are slashed . . . That usually means my position along with it. It's fine though, I'm used to it. And yes, usually alone. At least in the lab, at night. I have students this week though, first week in the classroom in over a year."

"Are you nervous?" she asked. "I would be a nervous wreck."

He chirped in response, in a tone that perfectly conveyed the wretchedness of the situation, and Grace found herself squeezing his forearm reassuringly, only catching herself after she had already done it.

"A bit. It's not my favorite part of the job, but it sometimes comes with the territory, that’s the whole point of schools hosting the programs. I’m not a postdoc, otherwise I wouldn’t have to. I usually know what to expect, you know, it’s the same as it is in the labs. Humans . . .” he trailed off, swallowing again. “I know what to expect. Here though," another uneasy laugh and a small chirp, his antennae bobbing, "here I don't know what to expect. The first few nights coming in . . ." He broke off, his mantle puffing up as he clicked in aggravation, shaking his head. "The lab was full. Full! I've never had to makeconversationlike that at work. And they expected me to respond? Totalkabout myself?"

He made a small gurgle of exasperation, and Grace laughed again, easily able to imagine how out of his element he would be amongst the chatty coworkers of Cambric Creek. She'd quickly discovered that neighborhoods were close knit little enclaves, the people on your street like an extension of your family. Block parties and picnics were common occurrences, but that also meant that everyone was way too invested in everyone else's business. She had never lived in a place as fueled by gossip as Cambric Creek seemed to be.

She turned her face towards him as she giggled, burying her nose the briefest moment against his bicep. Silky smooth, as she expected. Grace inhaled deeply, breathing him in, attempting to commit his scent to memory. Warm and smokey, the smell of him reminded her of campfires at the lake; the scent of sharp, green sap and crunchy leaves in the underbrush, swirling around woodsmoke and embers and something cool — crisp and clean and begging her to press her lips against his soft, velutinous skin.

He hadn't beenleavingwork the nights he’d landed in her tree, she realized — he'd likely been just starting his day, waylaid by the erotic display she provided. Somehow, the thought that he had been on his way to his job when he stopped to watch her was even more mortifying, Grace thought. She wondered if he'd gone to work horny those nights, twisting in need from having watched her. Her fingertips dragged along his silky forearm, following the line of a raised tendon beneath his skin, her cunt pulsing when he shivered against her. Or he had reached completion from his place in the tree? Had he been jerking off as he watched her masturbate? She closed her eyes, biting her lip, trying to envision the scene. She knew who it was now; knew exactly who to envision. She wondered how he stroked himself, if he used a firm over-hand grip, or if he used both hands to stimulate his length, a cock she couldn't quite envision, not knowing enough about mothman anatomy to fill in the blanks on her own. Had he reached a messy climax, spattering the innocent leaves of her tree as he came? Or had he gone to work unfulfilled, his balls aching and full.I wonder if he even has balls.

She turned, trapping him against the iron railing that ringed the observation deck. That time, Grace was positive she was able to see the subtle movement of his throat, raising the thick ruff as he gulped. Her nose barely came to the center of his sternum, velvet coated and glowing silver-gray beneath the security lights, high above their head.

"So much for stargazing tonight," she echoed his earlier sentiment, carefully placing her hands against his bare chest as another roll of thunder shook the sky, not quite as far away now. He was just as silky smooth as she thought he would be, and it was all she could do to keep from grinding herself against his pelvis.His balls are in his body, with his cock.Like so many of her nonhuman neighbors, his anatomy was designed in such a way that his reproductive organs were safe from external harm. It seemed like an evolutionary plus, but it didn't do much for her in the moment.You'll just have to tease them out.

“S-stupid weather.”

"Why don't you wear clothes?" It felt like too personal a question to be asking, but he hadn't hesitated to ask her personal questions. At first glance last night, she had thought him reed-thin and wispy, but now that she was up close and personal, it was easy to see the way his height and large wings made him seem skinnier than he truly was. He was lithe and sinewy but his shoulders were broad, and his chest hard beneath her hands. She dragged her fingertips slowly down the wide expanse of smooth velvety skin, pausing at his ribs, feeling his lungs hitch. His breathing was hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her palms, breath ragged when his thin lips parted.

"They make flying hard. The last place I lived, not the city, the place before that, I was studying bats in their natural habitats and the only transportation up the mountain every day was a convoy of jeeps. They made two trips up and two trips down, and all of those occurred in the daytime. Flying was the only way to get anywhere. And clothes don't last very long against the wind."

"Everything here is walkable," she murmured with a smile, stroking his pectorals once more. "And there's good public transportation. But I didn't even think about flying. Not that I have any complaints, mind you, but it might help you fit in better. But," she added with a sly smile, "you don't have to wear them around me. I could get used to the lack of barriers. Do you want to come back to my place for a bit?"

Once more, desire outran her good sense. Her palm slid down his front, slowing as she dragged over his taut abdomen, coming closer and closer to the place where his most sensitive anatomy must be held. Her fingers had just found the start of a slight dip in his skin when he gripped her wrist, preventing her from moving any further. He was panting by then. Grace was certain she would be able to sit on the floor and lift her legs and slide her way home, she was so wet and ready to have him in her bed.He's sweet and adorable and we're going to fuck him into next month.

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