I mean, granted, the last one wasn’t amazing, but this one barely has enough room to turn around. We can probably build a tiny fire on one side, cram our bodies on the other, and that’s about it. But it’s out of the wind and so I’m not complaining, especially when Rukh heads out for a few minutes and returns with some dung chips for me to make a fire. He knows I’m cold and tired, and I suspect that if he was alone, he wouldn’t have stopped here.
He prepares the fire for me and I hand him my striker, since he wants to learn how to do it on his own. “So where are we going tomorrow?” I ask him. “Where Harlow Rukh walk?”
Rukh concentrates on the fire, and when he has a tiny coal, he begins to feed a bit of tinder to it and considers my words. “Wa-ter,” he says after a moment. Then he gestures at the horizon and all around us. “Water.”
“Lots of water? Like a lake?” I draw in the dirt, hoping it looks like a pond. “Small water?”
He shakes his head and drags his finger across the dirt, indicating a long stretch. “Water.” He gestures at the horizon again. “Water.” Then he touches his tongue as if tasting it and makes a face.
It’s not…drinkable water? Realization dawns. “Are we going to the ocean?” I mime a crashing wave and it rolling forward. I probably look like an idiot making whooshing noises, but he nods eagerly.
Oh, holy crap. I’d love to see the ocean. I’m excited. I clap my hands. “I’m excited.”
He grins back at me, looking relieved for the first time since we’ve seen the other hunter. He wants to make me happy. Poor guy. He’s trying really hard, and even though I don’t understand everything he’s doing, it’s clear that I’m his foremost concern.
So I gesture at the fire. “Go get more fuel?”
? ? ?
We make the cave cozy for the evening. I take a nap while Rukh hunts, and when he returns, I’ve got the fire roaring again, a store of more chips nearby in case the weather takes a dip in the night, and he’s brought home a kill. I’m going to have to eat it raw, but I’m too tired to be picky.
My body’s humming and aroused, reminding me that we still haven’t given in to the whole ‘resonance’ thing. I’m doing my best to ignore it, even though it feels a little like drinking a sugary soda before bedtime. I can relax, but I can’t quite relax. Something’s always setting me off-key just a little, and I’m twitchy and ill-at-ease.
To occupy myself, I decide to make Rukh into a project.
I eye his tangled, dry hair. It’s flatter than the nest it was before, but it’s long and in his face. There were tiny, cleaned-white rib bones at the back of the cave from an old kill, and I’ve been playing with them all afternoon. I eventually bind them together with a bit of sinew Rukh had in his carry-all, and use another bone crosswise to make a handle for my rinky-dink comb. It fits in my hand just right, and I use it to comb through my own tangled hair and am pleased with the results. Once we’ve eaten, I smile sweetly at Rukh and pat the ground next to me. “Come here, baby.”
I find myself calling him baby more and more. Even though we aren’t officially ‘mated’， it feels like we’re in the ‘going steady’ stage. I’m almost ready to take it to the next level. Almost.
My entire body twitches at the thought, reminding me that it’s more ready than my mind is.
Rukh drops to the ground next to me, curious. I glance between his legs （I mean, the man is always naked. Of course the eye is drawn there） and he’s got a stiff one working. That, of course, sets my cootie off, which sets his cootie off, which means it’s going to be one dry-humping-filled night. I’m too tired to think about sex, though, so my body will have to wait.
“I’m going to comb your hair,” I tell Rukh. I drag the comb through my own tangle-free hair and show him what I mean, and then I gesture at his hair.
He gives me a wary look, then reaches for the comb.
“I’ll do it,” I tell him. Truth is, I want to do it. I like the thought of brushing his hair into a silky waterfall. I want to be the one responsible for taking care of him, weird as it sounds. So I fold my cloak into a lap pillow of sorts and indicate he should set his head down there.
His eyes gleam with interest, and he goes eagerly. Instead of lying on his back, though, he moves onto his stomach and pushes my legs apart, seeking out my pussy with his fingers.
I squeal in protest, clamping my thighs together. “Time out! Time out!” My cootie is zinging, and I can hear our joined resonance reverberating between us like a swarm of locusts. “Hair brushing tonight, okay?”