A Clean Shave

"Would you shave my legs?"

He was breathing too hard, struggling to control his spiking interest. He could feel groundbear swirling in his chest. She didn't know the list was meant to be a gift to his Bonded. She was just asking out of...

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I think it would be sexy."

He could feel his face getting hot. He couldn't help it. Reaching beneath his skirt, he adjusted his aching cock to a more comfortable position. "Sorry," he muttered. He shook his head, confused. "Aren't you being ... presumptuous?"

"I didn't think so. I mean, you've been hard for me all morning."

His voice was low and gravelly. "Have I?"

"Yes. I'm pretty sure." She peered at him. "Your stripes are starting. I like them very much, Odan."

"So ... shaving your legs would be sexy ... for when we have sex." Had there ever been a more confounding moment in his whole life? Well, Sunny asking him to join her and her hawk, yes, that was up there. But this. "I--That's--I'd--Yes." He took a deep breath. "Yes. All right.

She looked out at the tendrils of fog hovering over the water, and the light gray sky. She frowned. "It would be nice to do it here. But not now, I guess. With dingdanfins."

"Glindingshans. They're cold blooded. They won't be active yet."

"Great." She stood up and pulled her top off in one motion.

Her breasts were as succulent as they'd been yesterday in the jungle warmth. The mounds were a perfect mouthful, firm and plump but small enough to match her frame. Their tips were pink, with slight nipples that angled up. Fuck. He had to maintain enough control to shave her, with the memory of that wide, curvy mouth stretched around his cock.

"Should we use my soap?" she bent and opened her pack.

Her breasts shifted, and saliva jumped into his mouth.

"Vivienne." His voice was a complete snarl. He cleared his throat. "I have to tell you, shaving your legs will be ... intimate." His ability to find words had been going steadily downhill all morning.

She ducked out of the cave and stretched her arms, a small blanket in one hand, her soap in the other. Her pale-ruby hair danced across her shoulders as she looked back at him, smiling. "I'm ready to be your lover now, Odan. I'll freshen up at the pool, and you'll keep me safe from any creatures out there." Issuing that decree, she walked barefoot across the flat area, and sat on the edge. Easing herself over onto the uneven rocks below, she said, "And if you cut me, you have bodycraft. Maybe I can even practice my own bodycraft with your help."

He stood staring at the back of her head. She was fearless. He was humbled by her trust. His warskirt dropped to the bed, and he strode after her.

At the water's edge, she took off her pants. Folding them, she made a square. "Where should I sit?"

"Anywhere here along the edge. If you want to put your feet in the water, that's fine."

She put the pants down and watching her bare ass fold over to sit made his erection thicken an extra painful itch. Groundbear was totally fixated on her, quivering with eagerness. He strode into the water and knelt by her side.

She craned her neck around him. "Should I keep watch? How big are they?"

"No, this won't disturb them. The soap will flow downstream and they don't stir until midday." He had no intention of describing the plate-sized, toothed, warty creatures.

"The water's cold. Is it all right if I heat it a little?"

"Yes." He looked down at her legs. They were small, no bigger around than his arms, but perfect for her. The muscle was clear in her thigh, and her calf. Her lower leg had thin hair, with thicker hair starting midway up her thighs. The patch over her core was blonder than her hair, with a faint orange tint.

"Oh," she said sadly. "But you don't have a knife."

"Yes, I do." He took the soap from the edge of the shore. While he lathered his hands, the water warmed to a balmy level around him. Her control of firecraft was so helpful. He wouldn't look at her in the morning mist, so pale, in his favorite glen. No, he had to. He had to remember the vision of Vivienne in her first morning in the Wild, after their first kill, gifting him with this trust and her honesty.

He lifted her lower leg onto his thighs, and soaped it. He kept his motions brisk and efficient, firm, not lingering. When her leg was ready, he looked. She braced back on her hands. She was fingering some of the stones, finer pebbles here on this edge of the shore, and flicking tiny pieces of wet bark away with a slight frown. Her hair had settled into tight curls, not glossy, but the delicate frizz suited her.

"Princess."

She looked at him, a little irritation mark flashing between her brows. "Must you call me that?"

He nodded. "You are a princess to me. Your royalty rules by right of blood, for only the royals have the craft to power the scrying mirrors that link the Cities. Your mastery of firecraft is beyond any I've seen. It's far more impressive than talking through a mirror. I'm proud to be working with you."

She blushed, and he watched her mouth widen into a shy smile. "Thank you. You are the best skymage I've ever seen, although I suppose the Truxet have many powerful mages I've not met. You've spurred me to be better than I ever would have thought I could be. I hope to have many more successful hunts with you."

"I'm going to use my claws now. Don't be afraid. Don't look, if it will help. You need to stay very still. Relax. Let me move your leg for you."

She nodded, and her eyes went straight to his hands. She was so bold. "I won't move."

He drew on groundbear's spirit, and his body meshed with groundbear's on his command. His battleform's claws flowed out of his right hand. They were as long as his fingers, only thick, triangular and black, tapering to a needle point. Each of the razor edges of the triangular length was a blade in its own right.

He set a claw at the base of her leg, and drew it up along her skin with perfect control. Focusing intently, he did three slow sweeps before he was sure of the pressure. It had been a very long time since his father had showed him how to do this. He had to use a knife, and he'd made Odan practice on his own legs, with both knife and claw, then left him to practice on a paid woman. Remembering the laughter they'd shared in the attempts calmed him. The sight of his claws skimming over her skin, the act of learning her this minutely, every dip and rise, was powerful. His shoulders were tight at the responsibility, the utter gift, and the sheer excitement.

"Does this feel all right?"

"Yes. It feels strange, but it doesn't hurt." Her voice was steady, calm.

After he'd finished her shin and calf, she said, "I think I'm going to lie down. Is that fine?"

"Yes." He bent her leg and put her foot on his thigh so he could shave over her knee. Her soap scented faintly of herbs. He liked it. It was womanly enough for his princess, but didn't overpower groundbear's nose. She laid the blanket behind her and lay back on the shale chipped beach.

Glancing at her, images of him coming down over her flashed through his skull. Swallowing, ignoring the pulse in his tight cock, he focused on her white skin, determined not to mark her once. Over the next half hour, he moved around her legs, rolling her over to shave up to her tight round ass, and rolling her back to do the fronts of her thighs. Spreading her legs wide, holding his breath, he carefully maneuvered his claws along the tissue paper skin at the juncture of her hips. His fingers held down her pubic bush gently as he slicked away the soft hair from her hollows there. He pooled water in his cupped hands and rinsed her. Her thighs glistened, shining and smooth.

Rinsing his hands, he asked huskily, "Shall I do under your arms?"

"All right."

"Just stay there. Your arms behind your head will be fine." He smoothed the soap over her with the backs of his fingers. Crouching down next to her body, he scooped the hair away, then shifted to her other side. "All done."

"No, you're not." She stretched, sighing. "Hmm. I can feel the air on me differently. My legs feel so long."

"Yes." She was color and life laid out against the gray stones, with the black water and gray sky around her.

"You didn't do between my legs. Can you manage that? You could show me how to do it with a knife, if you don't want to."

He swallowed, closing his eyes to keep from snatching her up. "Vivienne... If I do that..."

"Yes, Odan. What do you think it's done to me, to lay here and feel your claws skimming every hollow of my body? It's insane, but I loved it. I'm ... soft inside." Her hand pulled from behind her head and skimmed down the light brown hair on his forearm. "I'm ready."

He didn't hesitate a second. "Spread your legs as far as you can."

The shale shivered as she shifted them wide. He knelt by her torso, facing her feet. Scooping the water she'd kept warm, he poured it over her mound until the hairs darkened. Then he took the soap, and lathered his hand. He set his fingers on her. She was warm, and firm. He worked his fingertips in gentle circles across the top of her pubic bone, and then down both sides of her until her hair glistened with soap.

Putting his claw beneath her belly button, he slicked the delicate trail there away, clearing a strip right down to the top of her lips. His breath, that he had fought to keep shallow and steady throughout, was sawing heavily from his aching jaw. By the Clouds, he would do this for her. The thought of his cock driving into her bare folds made heat seep from the tip of it. He skimmed the bald stripe wider. By the time he'd cleared her mound and the beginnings of her outer labia, he sounded like he'd been running all day.

"Are you all right, Odan?"

Her hand on his hip made him jump. She sucked in her breath. A tiny line of red bloomed on the tight sinew between her mound and her thigh. The sight shamed him.

"Shhh. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I startled you. It's nothing."

"I'll make it right." He lowered his face and pressed his lips to the cut, sending a pulse of healing that closed and sealed it. Hovering over her mound, his hands braced on either side of her hips, he closed his eyes. At this point he should be swamped in the scent of a woman. He'd know so much about her level of need. But Vivienne smelled like soap, and heat, and shale. He licked his lips and the tang of her blood lit his tongue.

Groundbear sat up and went berserk. Thrashing and leaping, twisting and ripping his heavy head from side to side, snarling and hissing. Odan stayed kneeling over Vivienne, rocking with his beastspirit's fury. After the initial onslaught, groundbear froze, plastered out flat to their mental ground, the fur down his spine raised in a bristling brush. Odan licked his lips again, and got a mouthful of sour soap. Confused, he watched groundbear on his internal mindscape, but the beastspirit still seemed to be waiting.

Sitting up, Odan looked down at Vivienne's spread legs, the water's edge lapping beneath her thighs. What was that? Why did his beastspirit react so strongly? Odan moved around between her legs, troubled, aching to plunge his body into hers.

He lifted each of her legs, bending them at the knees. "I need you to pull your knees up to your chest. Keep your legs wide."

Vivienne did so, rolling her ass up to him. Odan stared at her spread and presented folds, and couldn't help but lick his lips again. Still sour soap.

"Well. This is not a very inspiring position," Vivienne said wryly.

"I disagree."

He smoothed his hand along her crease. As his finger circled her anus, she tightened her cheeks. Watching the little hole dance almost made him go over, but he held himself back. Shaving the final, most secret places of her nearly brought tears to his eyes. With short, light, rasping strokes, he cleared the last of her hair, revealing the creamy white exterior and the deep pink interior. Her body was slender and small, but designed to cap his, to meet his strength. The mystery of how his thumpingly hard cock would find harbor inside her thrilled him. Her little bud glistened, tight and high, and her vagina was rimmed with slick white cream that didn't rinse away with the soap.

He couldn't smell her need, but he could see it. "You are so indescribably lovely."

"I want you," she breathed, her voice low and raspy.

And he could always rely on her to share her thoughts directly.

"But I'll manage to wait." She lowered her legs on either side of him and sat up. "Thank you, Odan. That felt awkward, but special at the same time."

"What do you mean, ‘wait?'" He growled.

"For you."

He almost choked. "You don't have to worry. I'm ready. I want you, too."

"Well, that's obvious. No, I meant for you to shave yourself."

He blinked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I was thinking, why go to all that bother, when you've got that big thick bush still there, too? Not your legs, of course, unless you want to."

She wanted him to shave his cock's nest. He looked down at his rampant cock, so hard for so long it had turned a gruesome shade of magenta. He glanced at her mound, now hidden to him again, the bare lips looking fragile and vulnerable. He looked back up at her.

There was a softness to her face, and her lips seemed even plumper, full and dark. "It would please you?"

She looked at his cock, too. She nodded. "Yes, Odan. Please shave. Then we will both be bare together."

He reached for the soap. Kneeling high on his knees, he pulled his cock down, fuck that hurt, and lathered up. Starting from the base of his cock, he skimmed with short flicks of his hand. He could feel the coarse strands being pared away, and his skin tingled where he'd cleared it.

"I wish I could do that for you."

She sounded so wistful, he hesitated, thinking of the knife in his pack.

"Never mind," she said briskly. "Hurry up. My knife is too far away."

He finished his groin, angling his legs with some difficulty.

"Good enough," she breathed. "I'm glad your balls are bare. That was nerve-wracking enough." She scooped up the water and splashed it on his belly.

He couldn't contain his gasp as the warm water ran over the bare skin. It felt nothing like water on the bare skin of his chest. It was like his skin had just developed hyper-sensation. She splashed him two more times, then lay back on her blanket, spreading her legs.

"Give me your hand," she ordered.

He held out his hand, stunned by her.

"Your other one!"

More slowly, he offered her his clawed hand. Struggling to focus, he blinked stupidly at it, but all he could feel was his cock, and all he could think about was Vivienne. Imperious, ferocious, fiery Vivienne. She shackled his wrist and pulled his arm forward, setting his hand in the middle of her chest. He sucked in his breath at the contact. Her skin was different here than on her legs. He could feel her breastbone, and his thumb caressed the lower swell of one breast. His claws were stark against her, reaching nearly up to her throat. He had to keep his fingers rigidly straight to hold the sharp edges up from her skin.

She moaned, arching, writhing. "Earthmother's ass, it's been so hard to lay still! Please, Odan, please, please come inside me."

Her hands latched onto his forearm, stroking down the skin to his wrist only to lift to his elbow and flow down him again. Her heels dug at the slight incline, as she thrust her hips up at him, her lips open wide. The sky had lightened enough so that her skin glowed in its pure whiteness, and his tan hand framed by her pink nipples tripped some trap in his brain.

Odan held himself still, knowing his control was broken. Knowing it would be disaster to join with Vivienne now. He never in his life had taken a woman without making her orgasm first. It was a form of control every Trux was taught. Sex was something they all craved, and they all feared, for sex was where a man's nature blurred with his beast's. As an alpha, Odan knew his burden of control was greater, and the trick worked for him, as a way to focus on the person he was with, and not his own sensation. For safety, and sanity, in the call of a woman's womb and the instinct that said if he just fucked her hard enough, a child could be his.

The thought of Vivienne swollen with his child made Odan go blind. The world went dark, and Vivienne's thighs brushed along the outside of his as she tried to pull him to her. "Please, please, please! I need! Odan! I need you!"

He wrapped his human hand around his cock. He did it because he needed pressure there. He needed something to hold him together. But then soft, scalding skin caught the tip of him. He thrust, and notched into something that made him growl, guttural and feral.

Vivienne cried out, and he wanted to say, Don't be afraid. I'll never hurt you.

But then she shrieked, "Yes!"

His tip was sucked into a tight, wet grip. It was beyond him to pull away. His hand slapped down on the bony curve of her body, her hip, and he pulled sharply, dragging her weight down to cover half his length. His cock caught in a vise of sensation that burned his spine and the soles of his feet.

She wailed and snarled, "Deeper!"

He fell forward, his hand catching him as it buried in shale, his other hand sealed tight to her chest, his forearm lying down the center line of her body. Her legs wrapped around his thighs and ass, silky smooth, perfectly smooth, so warm. He thrust, driving his cock into the heart of Vivienne's flesh. The shock of his groin compacting with the wet, bare folds of her skin snapped his head back on his neck. He shouted. She screeched, writhing like wildfire under him, heat poring over his back like dancing sparks. They blended with the teeth of lava locked around his cock. Her firecraft was slipping her control, and he wasn't the least bit afraid.

He withdrew and thrust in a small spasm, because he had to. The burning took his lungs. She clenched on him, and went stiff and rigid. He was dying, it hurt, it burned, it felt ecstatic, and he needed to reach the depths of her. His hips jerked, and he thrust again, grinding into her, forcing himself to fit into the secret spaces of this woman, his woman. When he came, the fire moved over his body in a cleansing wave. It was like wind. Why had he never realized before that fire was so much like wind? He loved wind. He loved to burn.

The cum shot from his cock, and it was the sharpest, sweetest pain ever. Sealing his hips to hers, it was like they melted together, nothing between them. His bone jerked against hers. The echo of need whispered to him, trying to lure him deeper into the fire, but he wasn't in a form to go any farther. He heard both of their raw rasping breaths.

His eyes opened, and he was staring at a dried oak leaf. It was a red oak, the tips jagged. Turning his head, he stared down into the face of his lover. He'd called other women that before. It was a term he'd heard. He would never again call any paid woman "lover." He'd barely touched her in any sexual way, and Vivienne had taught him what the term meant. It was ... something he still didn't fully comprehend. But it fit. Vivienne was his lover.

Flame Within Excerpt:

"What are you hiding, Flame Curate?" His words stung her.

She slapped at the branches. "I told you, I no longer hold that position."

"Did you delegate it thinking you were going to die?" He stepped closer.

"Yes!" She lifted her chin at him. "It was the prudent thing to do, and I did it during the last mission as well." But she wouldn't be taking her old job back this time. Too much was happening as she stood here playing with water and leaves for her to take back the mantle of authority from Roge.

"What are you hiding, by Ash? Why do you wear their foul cloaking spell?"

"Nothing! Everything! This is about privacy, Odan. This is about the fact that for centuries your people have been able to read humans' every emotion, from fear to desire, and use it against us. We wanted a shield, a way to live without your condescending meddling."

"Meddling!" He stepped forward, and now the shadows of his stripes flared out from his nose, rising up to his temples and across his forehead. "That meddling was policing your own sorry, selfish natures from the greed that infects your spirit and drives humans to seek out power at any cost. At your own King's request!"

"You're not better than us! Just because you can't become darkmages doesn't mean you're without your own darkness. Or are you ignoring the fact that a rogue Bear is now a pet of the darkmages?" She stepped forward, too, quivering with indignant ire. Her neck tipped back to meet his glower.

He leaned over her, breathing hard.

She whispered, "The spell was developed out of pride and fear. It was selfish, and it has led to increased freedom for the darkmages. We realize that, and finally, it's ending, now. But you don't know what it's like, to be so easily read, so easily-" claimed. The word echoed in her head. She swallowed to keep it back. By Skyfather's light, don't give him any ideas.

He raised up a hand and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "You don't think I know what it's like to have my every opinion known? But I do. Vivienne, we're not immune to this ability. We scent each other constantly, among the eleven Clans. My father knows when I'm horny, my Alpha knows when I'm angry, my friends know when I'm frustrated. You fear something that is natural to us."

He frowned down at her, but now his frown was more perplexed. "Look at my face. What am I feeling right now?"

"Frustrated?"

He nodded. "See, you can do it, too. Do I go around with a mask on all the time, to keep you from reading me?"

"You have the ability to control your face. We couldn't hide our scent, until this."

"No one controls their eyes, face, and body all the time. People are meant to interact. We're meant to touch and be touched, with all our senses, with all of the Six." He took her hand loosely in his, and lifted it between them. He studied her short nails, the few shiny patches from old burns, the lines of her palm. When he looked up at her, his eyes were blue. "What is there to hide? Why would you want to move through life pretending to be something you're not? Who are you, Vivienne?"

His words were a coal flaring to life in a heart that had been beaten down by responsibility, guilt, and a need for approval. "I don't know."