Her scent saturated my lungs. She was the flavor of sanguine cream; indulgent, sweet, and silky. I needed to taste all of her.

"I can't give you offspring," Mourning Crow whispered mid-kiss.

I embraced her tighter and caressed her cheek with my longest prehensile quills. "You let me worry about that."

She nodded and plunged her fingers deep into my mane before kissing me even harder.

Oh, but my mouth ached soo good!

I had no desire to harm her, despite knowing full well I was goading her into a fight. However, toward the end there, after invoking the Abura, it took serious effort to block her from ripping out my throat. I would be mindful in the future never to utter their name unless it was absolutely vital.

I felt myself swell and unfurl, and took it as a sign that it was time for us to move. She wrapped her legs around my waist as I lifted us both, trying my best not to make a sound.

I hated to admit it, but she did a real number on my ribs. Also, I think she cracked one of my tibias. Normally, I'd sleep off these types of minor injuries, but right now, I had no intention of taking it easy.

We shambled down the hallway, grinding and groping one another back and forth between the walls until her hand dove down my center.

"Wait," I swung our bodies into a doorway and pinned her against the entrance of the med center. I waved my hand over the motion sensor and activated a drawer stocked with pre-prepared med packs and surplus first-aid supplies.

Mourning Crow was closer and hovered her hand over the narrow line of multi-colored syringes.

"The purple will do," I jerked my chin.

She plucked it out and handed it to me, then ripped off my loincloth while I was busy injecting my thigh.

The compound burned through my veins and made my insides shiver. Finally, my arm stopped bleeding.

"Much better," I growled, chomping my jaw wide to confirm that I was free of distractions.

"Good!" Mourning Crow's eyes were wild as she yanked her harness off over her head, not that it was blocking access to anything. Then she hooked her legs tighter and pushed me out the door.

Eventually, we made it to the dormitory. Mourning Crow had entertained herself by raking her tiny razored claws against the line of rigid nodules cresting the head of my cock and I was desperate to retaliate.

I pressed her back into the wall and smacked the control panel, triggering the bed to emerge from the floor, all-the-while kneading my claws into her muscular rear.

Every inch of her was sleek and taut. It was like cradling a wriggling shark.

I let her glide from my grasp onto the bed and crawled in close behind her, helping her tug off her shorts and discard them over my shoulder. Then we lingered there together, kneeling, her back to my front with my body crouched around hers and sitting on my heels, while Mourning Crow quietly allowed my hands to explore her body.

I caressed her neck and traced my slender touch-quills along the rims of her delicate ears. Then I licked off the dried blue blood staining her fingertips and basked in the soft patter of her racing pulse. I could only imagine what my own thundering organs sounded like to her senses.

Mourning Crow's bare skin was cool to the touch. I massaged her small nippleless breast and pondered what their purpose was since razkurs females weren't the primary child bearers. However, whether or not they were functional didn't stop them from being any less wonderful.

I coiled my arms around her tighter and decided to make use of my left arm's freshly regrown, ultra-sensitive skin.

Her inner thigh was luxurious, supple, and dabbled in iridescent flecks. I dragged my hand higher and curled my middle claw along the slender little slit glistening between her plump lower lips. All at once, Mourning Crow's whole body began to tremble, emitting a salacious purr.

She froze.

"Did I...?" I recoiled my clawed fingers, distraught that I'd mistakenly scratched her.

"No, no harm done," Mourning Crow pulled my hand back into place. "Perfectly normal. I've just never done that before."

"We can wait if you require-"

"Phbbbbtt!" She poked her tongue out and blew a raspberry.

"I'll be alright. I've heard it plenty of times coming from my father's trailer. But it's super weird feeling it on the inside," she pressed my fingers over her abdomen. "It's all over, I can't tell precisely where it's coming from."

The notion of Mourning Crow technically being a virgin felt outright preposterous. A fraction of me wanted to go slow and make her first time as painless as possible, while the rest of me yearned to defile her permanently.

I turned her sideways across my lap and sank my left arm down to her opening. "Can you do it again?"

She kissed me again, practically devouring my tongue and intentionally spreading her thighs just enough to let my dick slip through.

That was it. Her fate was sealed.

This reckless female would receive no mercy!

I stroked her opening hoping to achieve a repeat performance, but the purring was absent.

What was different? What comes naturally to a razkur... Oh, right!

The solution was simple. I spun her back toward me again and nibbled on her lower neck.

"I don't kno-" Mourning Crow flinched and lost her breath when my longest finger entered her. I let her breathing steady, then hugged her firmly and thrummed my chest. The response was instantaneous. Her ears shot up and that glorious purring reverberated throughout both our bodies.

I curled my middle finger and flicked it as much as her warm little crevasse would allow. She was correct. The vibrations came from everywhere!

My lap was drenched and taunting me with greedy ideas.

No, no. First, I will have my revenge for those little claws toying with me down the hallway.

I leaned back, still clicking and thrumming, and positioned my free hand atop that demure little pearl tucked just above her slit. It was so slick and easy to rub and drum down on.

"Careful!" Mourning Crow seized away.

Shit! That's usually foolproof with Zhaguai women.

"Eh'kt," Mourning Crow patted my cheek sweetly. "When you discover an opponent, do you often pounce in loud and all at once?"

"Sometimes," I paused my finger wedged inside her. "It depends on the creature."

"Well, this one you don't."

"Understood," I lifted my free hand away, but Mourning Crow seized it and took hold of my middle and index fingers.

"This one you flank," she placed my fingertips on either side of the little bump. "And you lure it to you."

I watched her guide my hand in soft concentric circles with my chin and long quills coiled over her shoulder.

"Take your time," her breathing quickened. "If you're clever, it won't run away. Too much speed and pressure will actively work against you."

Her slit was leaking like an open faucet. I resumed my internal flicking and measured my thrumming to harmonize with her purring. The results were electric!

She squirmed and dug her claws deep into my arms. And the moaning...

I'd planned for composure, dominance, and patience.

But, fuck! Her moans. No mortal being had the right to make such exquisite sounds. I couldn't wait. I had to feel her from the inside!

I lifted off my feet and hoisted her up, taking a deep breath to time my thrumming as l lowered her down on my cock.

I'd predicted writhing and whimpers, and even braced myself for all-out crying.

But none of the above occurred.

Instead, her whole body melted around me. The fit was tight, but remarkably pliable. Halfway in, I panicked when I felt a barrier but the soft internal wall gave way and stretched to let all of me in. One would assume a female this slender would object to being impaled by a thirteen-inch javelin.

Well, I suppose she did, in a manner, issue a formal objection earlier on the bridge. But now all she asserted was 'more' and 'keep going'.

Mourning Crow spread her legs wide and locked them over mine, refusing to relinquish any space separating her skin from my thrumming.

Fine by me. She could have me in any proximity that she desired. I latched my claws onto her hips and plunged myself in and out of her with long, persistent strokes. Her thigh meat dimpled under the tips of my black claws but there was no sign of tearing.

How could someone so small invoke the sensation of being filled to the brim with red-hot needles?

"Nia'sharr voth, sey'eda rhees!" Mourning Crow's arms slithered up my neck as she whispered strange breathy words into the air. "Ni Ekkt, doa'jerr oaka? Iza! Cree!"

She growled and clenched my quills. "Na'aa Rraan Zuu'hoe!"

I had no clue what she was saying, but her tone was universal. Give her more or suffer the consequences.

As you wish!

I clicked wickedly and hastened my pace as I bent her forward, attentive to keep our torsos connected, then slammed my cock full force repeatedly into her pussy.

She bucked her hips back and pulled my left arm up to her chest, splaying my fingers over one of her smooth breasts.

"Za'nja." Mourning Crow gasped and rubbed the pad of my index finger across the apex of the fleshy mound. Unexpectedly, the texture shifted. There was something hard. An unseen fold had released and exposed a perky pale nipple.

Not wanting to repeat my previous error, I restrained the instinct to tease it.

"Kez'e," Mourning Crow made me pinch it. Her inner walls clenched and I obeyed again. Her ears curled and quivered as she yowled in bliss. "Osa!"

The cadence and rolls of her 'r's were similar to her shouts that day on the black glade. This was her native language, and it was absolutely imperative that I learned to speak it!

I leaned back, one arm around her waist and the other cupping the underside of her rump, while lifting her legs to improve the angle.

Her ears bounced beside my face as I roared and squeezed her tighter. Had she been a human, I would have crushed all her ribs and internal organs, but that marvelous razkur skeleton was built to perfection.

"Osa! Iza!" Mourning Crow latched her claws into my arms as her wet crevasse constricted no matter how vigorously my pierced cock thrusted. Her claws sank in, unrepentant and demanding everything until she drew blood.

The endeavor carried all the hallmarks of training under my Blood Oath-sworn mentor in preparations for my first Dread Rite, except that Mourning Crow wasn't trying to kill me... supposedly.

I could feel myself pumping within her abdomen through my forearm but she gave no indication that I was inflicting pain. Far from it. The harder my swing, the deeper her succulent channel swallowed.

No, my primary concern was that I'd inadvertently unleashed a monster.

All at once, Mourning Crow's breathing shifted. Her body tensed and relaxed simultaneously while her moans dropped two octaves and her claws retracted from my skin.

Two cycles ago, I conquered a formidable warrior concurrently with the eruption of a nearby volcano. Mourning Crow's low purrs were reminiscent of the terrain's heralding tremors.

I etched my fangs along her shoulder and nibbled on the back of her neck, returning my middle and index finger to their proper flanking positions beside her clit. There was an eerie calm to the sway of her ears, and she made no complaint that I was applying substantially more pressure than she'd instructed earlier.

I curled forward, nesting my head next to hers.

Mourning Crow's eyes were glazed and half-open like she was tipsy on Ke'ji. The lascivious sight made my loins thicken and in a moment of revelry, I coiled one of my quills around her nearest ear and rumbled, "Sing for me."

What happened next, I could only describe as a transcendent chain reaction. Her entire body constricted as if struck by lightning, then she grit her teeth, huffed, and cried out in an immaculate tone that reverberated throughout my entire ship.

I shuddered and howled, filling her with every last drop of my warmth. Then I crumpled around her, still kneeling but spooning her upright. She snuggled into me, still quivering and gasping for breath. It was strange. Her wetness was still tense and starting to clamp down on me like a slowly tightening vice.

I envisioned pumping her a few more times as a courtesy before withdrawing, but her crevice was too snug. Then the firmness transformed into a troublesome pinch and rapidly escalated into an agonizing crunch. I tried lifting her up, but Mourning Crow's body wouldn't let me slide out.

"Mourning Crow," I tried not to sound anxious.

She didn't answer.

"My mate," I winced from the quake of another bruise inflicting contraction. "Could you let me go?"

Mourning Crow was silent. She remained in the same breathless state that had claimed her when she came.

No, not came... cumming! Her ears were still shivering.

It appeared that at every turn, my new mate was receiving the optimal portion of this fledgling relationship.

Was this excruciating lockdown typical of razkurs or merely a first-time reflex?

I kept still and thrummed tenderly while rubbing my palm up and down her arm in a desperate attempt to coax her back into lucidity. The possibility of my skin tearing was currently a genuine hazard.

Finally, after seventy-eight nerve-wracking seconds, Mourning Crow's ears fluttered up and her deceptively sweet lower lips released me.

I collapsed and groaned while Mourning Crow wriggled over my chest and stippled my face in kisses.

"No clue if that's how it's supposed to be done," she wrapped her legs around mine. "But I'm game to go again whenever you are!"

"I..." I patted her head. "Will need a moment."

"Oh," Mourning Crow sat up, sweeping her long silky hair behind her ears. "Did I not-"

I pulled her down and filled her mouth with my tongue, then sat up and stroked her ears. "You did everything right. I am the one who was not prepared."

"Oh," Mourning Crow's slender hands curled up tight as she lowered her head.

"Nothing wrong," I asserted, lifting her face to mine. "Do not fret. But I must know, at the end, the grip, is it always soo..?"

Her expression was agonizingly attentive.

"When Zhaguai mate," I revised my approach. "It's typically efficient and very combative. Lifemates will couple purely for pleasure, but all our climaxes extend only a few seconds."

"Like less than a minute?" Mourning Crow stared at me as though I had suddenly sprouted a daffodil on my head.

"As in," I raised up my fingers and counted them down.

Her ears curled in horror and she bit her lips. "That's it?!"

"That is, as I was born," I touched my brow to hers. "I am glad you enjoyed it."

"Even though you had to sit and wait?"

"I got to watch!" I growled at her.

"I am a natural performer," Mourning Crow swaggered her ears, then quirked her head. "But how were you unprepared?"

I would have preferred her to remain oblivious, but successful couplings are based on honesty.

"You were spectacular," I reiterated, determined not to poison her with performance anxiety. It was a pernicious torment I was all too familiar with. "It's simply a minor anatomical misalignment. Easily rectified."

"Misalignment?" She squinted. "I don't have that many holes."

I sighed and unsealed the crease in my pelvic sheath to expose my bruised organ.

"Is it supposed to be that many colors?"

"No," I folded myself back in. "But it will heal quickly."

"I hurt you?" Mourning Crow's ears drooped backward.

"Yes," I pointed to the not-yet-healed cranial quill that she snipped several days ago. "On multiple occasions."

She giggled, then laid her hand on my chest with a smirk. "It's only fun when I do it on purpose."

"I will remember this," I hissed at her sternly.

"How do we rectify?" Mourning Crow cozied into my side and perched her chin on my shoulder.

"I train," I took hold of her ass. "You reap the benefits."

Mourning Crow twisted her brow at me. "This doesn't seem like a problem solvable by diet and exercise."

A low chuckle thundered through my chest as I yanked her flat to the bed and crawled on top of her.

"If a pathetic young-blood runt can win the Grand Nexus' annual melee on his first attempt and be deemed worthy as your chosen mate, then there is no obstacle he cannot overcome with a great deal more practice!"

I spent the next countless hours practicing with her over and over. There was no stopping her lockdown, but I could anticipate the precursors and worked out several angles to reduce the pain to merely mild discomfort.

In each session, we experimented with various speeds, positions, lubricants, and often spontaneously oscillating from rough to soft, clinical to sentimental, and all the way into out-right ridiculously playful. She even consented to conducting research in the bathtub.

Eventually, our analysis devolved into languid carnal rapture. I was on top, imparting all my heft on her because, during one of our brief sustenance breaks, Mourning Crow spoke of her ambiguous dreams while existing as a perpetual teenager trapped in Thorngate. An innate craving for weight and pressure swirled with visceral sounds. She claimed it was likely a product of the city's savage background noise invading her subconscious, combined with an overabundance of arrested hormones. But I was eager to oblige.

I longed to be close to her, lost in her, and wanted to be consummately absorbed in her skin. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation mingled with a smidge of dehydration. Everything outside our union was irrelevant. I belonged and she was mine.

"Ni Eh'kt," Mourning Crow placed her fingers on my cheeks and summoned my eyes to focus on hers. "Your name in Ahnzi, the language of my father's tribe. It translates to heartbeat. The first and last sound we ever hear."

"Oh," I nuzzled her cheek with my fangs, then lapped my tongue along her neck.

"Sort of," her voice wavered when I rolled my hips and thrust in deeper, just to make her squeak. "It's like when someone says sunshine instead of light from the sun."

I touched my nose to hers and gazed at her.

"Eh'kt," she pulled me closer and cradled my face in her ears, signaling that this was important. "Means the beat of my heart. It's what we say to someone that we are bonded.".

.

.

TRANSLATIONS:

Ke'ji = Zhaguai spicy/warm/hot alcohol  

Author's Note:

I have translations for Mourning Crow's language, however, I think it's best to leave you in the dark with Eh'kt for now.

I'm sure things will be smoothing-sailing once they arrive Sahei 😉😏... nothing ever goes awry when two completely different species try to make a life together.

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