The Big Rains - Sam and Dazzik

Chapter 6

Dazzik

The drink dances on my tongue, the sensation too distracting for me to take note of its flavour. When I swallow, it bubbles down my throat, making me want to sneeze. I must be pulling a face, because my Sam laughs.

“This drink is alive,” I say, staring at it, suspicious. “Is it supposed to be?”

“It’s fizzy, silly,” my Sam says, still laughing. “Yes, it’s supposed to be like that.”

“Oh.” I take another sip. “It is not unpleasant, I suppose.”

That only makes her laugh harder. “Well, I’m glad you approve.”

“I approve,” I say, taking another big mouthful to prove it. Unfortunately, the bubbles are overwhelming, travelling up my throat and into my nose. I splutter and cough, and my Sam clutches her sides as she laughs.

“So much amusement at your mate’s expense,” I say, allowing a little growl into my voice. “A male might be persuaded to punish his female for such disrespect.”

I am only teasing. I could never punish my Sam. Her laughter makes my heartspace sing, even when it is me she laughs at. But then my Sam looks at me, all heat in her eyes.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she says.

Instantly, my cock is as hard as I have ever known it to be, my heartspace thundering in my chest, heat rising all through my body until the tips of my ears even burn with it.

She… she might enjoy punishment? And I might enjoy giving it to her?

“Well?” my Sam says, and her expression is back to her usual sunny smile. “Are you going to try your fish?”

A different sort of hunger is racing through me, but I try to focus on my food rather than the sweat that is beading in my hairline at the effort of resisting throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her upstairs to mate.

The fish is probably bland compared to others I have eaten in the past, but it has been so long since I had one, and longer still since someone cooked something fresh for me, that it could taste of nothing and still be delicious. I savour every mouthful, telling my Sam regularly how much I am enjoying it. I drink the bad human drink as well, my Sam refilling my cup every time it gets even slightly less than half full. The more I drink, the more used to it my tongue grows, until I am almost enjoying it.

“My head feels soft,” I say. “Like my headspace has been filled with feathers.”

“You’re drunk,” my Sam says, giggling.

“Drunk?”

“I think this drink is alcoholic.”

“What does that mean? Is it bad?” Worry for her surges through my feathery thoughts.

“Oh, it’s fine. Might have a bit of a headache in the morning. But I feel good. Don’t you feel good?”

I pause to examine it. My thoughts slip and slide, difficult to pin down, but I do not feel bad. I look at my female, her enticing breasts hidden at the moment by her clothes, but the curve of them visible enough to make me wet my lips. I can picture the taste of her cunt on my tongue. It would be the perfect finish to this meal she has made us.

“It is like pofi berry brew?” I say. My tongue feels a little thick. I hope it will not impair my ability when I am tasting her later.

“Yeah, exactly. Makes you feel fuzzy, but good. Loose. Warm.”

She is out of her chair, sliding into my lap. Her arms loop round my neck, her breasts pressed close to my face. My female knows what I like, and likes to give it to me.

Little nightmare. Perfect dream.

“Do you feel good, Dazzik?” she says, grinding her hips against me. “A warm meal in your belly. A little tipsy. Your mate in your arms.”

I graze my teeth against her neck, feel the pounding of her heartspace against my mouth.

“I feel that I need to get you to our bed soon, or I will end up mating you right here on this table.”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” she moans, kissing me.

I stand up, sweeping her up into my arms, and all but run upstairs to our room. As I set her down, she grabs my hand, threading it into her hair.

“I’ve been such a bad girl, Dazzik,” she says, her voice all soft. Fluttery. It teases over my skin, making my cock jolt. “What are you going to do to me? What are you going to make me do?”

She guides my hand until I am pulling at her hair just slightly, her head tilting back, exposing her neck. My heartspace has never beaten so hard, having her offer herself to me like this. The trust, the vulnerability. It is a gift she is giving to me.

“You did laugh at your mate,” I say, my voice jagged with need.

“I did. Will you ever forgive me?”

I nearly tell her yes immediately, but that is not the game. She does not ask because she thinks she needs my forgiveness. She knows that I love her laughter, that there is nothing to forgive. She asks because she wants to play.

“A good female would make it up to her mate,” I say, tightening my grip on her hair. Her needy gasp tells me I am playing the game right.

“How do you want me to do that?”

“You can start by getting on your knees.”