The Huntsman and the Nix Ch. 02-03

Now he came and set down a dead animal. "Why am I getting the stare?"

"What stare?" she said, her eyes shifting. The dead animal he was holding had a frozen expression, a snarl of surprise, blood coming out of its nose.

"That's from one of your snares," he said.

Isobet looked down, still twisting, looking up again to watch his hands. He pulled his knife. His hands were as scarred as the rest of him, and they were large and sure. Hunting small game and foraging were how they would stay alive out here, he'd said. They'd run out of the packaged food over two weeks ago, and she'd been hungry since then, but never really hungry. Not hungry like she'd been before. The food tasted awful, though.

He indicated the animal. "You do it."

She looked at the bloody body and tied off the rope, coming next to him and getting on her knees, watching him as he showed her, explaining, his big scarred hands and his deep eyes. Isobet didn't mind touching the bloody animal. She was going to eat it, after all.

"Put your fingers in and scoop it all out," he said as she pressed in, her fingers bright red, feeling the squishiness. "Don't bust the gut. And look for any parasites. We don't want to eat parasites."

Her eyes shifted to his. "What?" Isobet said, looking down at it, pulling her hand away, her nose wrinkling. She looked at his face, finding him smiling a little, watching her.

After that, she went and washed her hands while he made a fire. When it was ready, she picked at the meat, looking at each piece a little and then trying not to think about it, chewing. Awful. "Are you from Odian, Sutter?" she said when they were done. Odian was where huntsmen were trained, a school there.

"Not originally, no."

She waited. He would answer questions, but for some, he just wouldn't elaborate. That was all right. People had things they didn't want to share. "Did you always want to be a huntsman?"

"No. I wanted to live on a boat. I was apprenticed to be a drowser when I was young," he said, elaborating.

"A drowser," she said, her eyes going up, finding it. "The small sea animals. You've lived on Siclia? It's far-edge system."

He nodded. "It takes years to learn the rhythms that draw them to the surface and then even longer to learn how to harvest the red scales without hurting them. But once the scales are ground up and turned to powder, they're shipped throughout the system."

She hesitated, still curious where he was from, unable to figure it. "Are you from Siclia?"

"I lived there for a time."

She waited. He didn't elaborate. "There's really no land on Siclia? I've seen pictures. It's beautiful."

"There's land at the poles on Siclia, but it's cold. It is beautiful on Siclia, yes. They have whole cities that float. There's a peaceful quality there."

"Why didn't you become a drowser?"

"I became a soldier."

He had served during the war. She'd been thirteen when the Ohktan war had started, fifteen when it had ended, but Sutter was four years older than her. She'd asked. Looking at his face when he looked down, passing the rope through his hands, she thought that becoming a soldier was about as far away from peaceful as a person could get.

#

Sutter was waiting on the far shore, just standing there, watching her. The river was wide and fast, Isobet halfway across, one rock after the other, plotting her course, although she had to jump a ways when she got closer to his side, Isobet launching herself, the rock she landed on only enough for her feet and no more, not pausing, moving to the next one.

She leapt, landing on the shore next to him, breathing a little fast. "I found some olagati, like you said. I saw the red skin on the trees. See?" Pointing back across the river, she began to reach to pull out what she'd found, looking up at his face. She went still.

Sutter was studying her, what he did when she'd done something he hadn't expected, his gaze assessing. "I go scouting for a couple hours and you decide to jump rocks across a fast and deep and wide river? Those rocks are far away from each other. If you had fallen in, the chances of you coming out again were pretty low, killer. I would have come back and had no way to know what happened to you."

She eyed him, deflating a little. Fall in? She'd pulled out the cloth she'd wrapped the fruit in, as many pieces as it would hold. Into the water? "I wasn't going to fall in," she said, looking back across the river and then at him, holding the cloth in her hand.

"Anybody can slip."

Her eyes swept him, opening the cloth. "Just walking around, I could fall and hit my head, but I don't spend every moment worrying about it."

His mouth twitched. "It was reckless, killer."

"I was careful. It's not difficult for me, Sutter."

"Be more careful," he said.

She eyed him again. "Is this the fruit you were talking about?" she said, holding out the white fleshy stuff. "It grows on the outside of the bark toward the top of the trees."

His eyes went to it, but he didn't take the fruit. "You climbed those trees," he said.

They'd been tall. "Yes. It smells good. You said it's supposed to taste good." Pulling it back toward herself, she broke off a small bit and put it in her mouth. It did taste good. She made a small noise. Very good. She licked her lips for the sweetness and broke off another piece and held it out to him. "Do you want to try it?"

Sutter stepped closer and caught her wrist, bringing her hand to his mouth and taking it that way, her own lips parting, catching her breath, a deep sinking in her belly, watching him, her fingers tingling. He drew back. Isobet broke his gaze, avoiding his eyes and stepping back as he dropped her wrist. In these moments, she was sure she wasn't imagining it.

"It is good," he said, and his voice was so relaxed that she looked at him again, his face that neutral coldness, and she would be just as sure she was.

#

They traveled for eight days. Isobet was just wondering how many more days they were going to hike when he stopped. She looked around, trying to see the things that made him judge it was a place that was safer for them than others. Cover. Tall trees. A water source. Slightly high so he could see, she was guessing.

While she was looking around, Sutter came striding back into camp carrying wood. He was always moving toward the next thing. She began to gather it, helping him.

"We'll stay here for a time," he said.

That was good news. She sighed, stretching, and then went for more wood.

#

In the morning, Sutter was standing behind her, his arm around her neck, another around her waist. They were barefoot on the moss, the forest floor soft. "You did this when we met," he said. "Tuck your chin and bring your hands up to my arms. You're going to step to the right because I've got my right arm around you. If I had my left arm around you, you'd step to the left. Take a wide step and duck down low as you turn--it won't work if you only do it a little--as if you were trying to face me. Do it fast and push away."

"What if I'm being lifted off my feet?"

"We'll talk about that."

Sutter got his arm around her neck and she tucked her chin and moved like he said, her body following. It was easy. She could feel that he couldn't hold her, pushing off of him. It made her feel better to know these things, more confident. Sometimes she believed that was why Sutter had agreed to teach her. The brand on her arm still hurt sometimes.

"You have what we call kinesthetic intelligence," he told her. "Your body and your mind combine well to do things together."

"Because I'm a Nix," she said, watching his face. She thought maybe that bothered him. That she was a Nix, some kind of freak leftover from the war. There'd been no reason to make her. She hadn't been a soldier. She'd been made years after the others. Isobet had been created because her father had wanted to please Isobet's mother, that was all. But Isobet was still modified, engineered. Altered, not her mother and father's daughter with a heart condition anymore, but something else.

"Yes," he said. His face didn't tell her anything. He got behind her again, his body against hers, his warmth and solid strength, his smell. She tried to pay attention, his arm around her neck, his other around her waist. "Here's your next option. When you come to the side and duck down with your chin tucked, you're going to step behind my legs and put yours between them. Do it slow and stop."

He waited.

"What?" she said, her face getting hot. He didn't give any sign, but she knew he noticed. The idea that he knew she was attracted to him and was being polite and wasn't interested was too humiliating. It made her want to scream.

He repeated himself and she did what he said. "Can you feel it?" he said.

"Yes. But I can't throw you."

He didn't release her. He often did this, talking and explaining while she held the position he had her in, Isobet becoming more and more aware of his body, his smell, his hands on her, waves going through her belly. It wasn't the first time she'd lost track of what he was saying.

In the thin undershirt, he couldn't help pressing against her breasts while they wrestled, couldn't help brushing against her nipples, small jolts of sensation, her breath catching. It had embarrassed her at first, but he'd politely ignored it. By the end of a session, her nipples would be hard, poking from the thin material, and sensitive. There wasn't anything she could do about that, and Sutter saw all of it.

They were hard now, her heart beginning to pound.

"Ideally, throwing isn't about strength," he said low into her ear, and she could feel his breath tickling the fine hair there, goosebumps breaking out on her arms, her nipples giving a deep twinge. "It's about leverage. But in the real world, where you and I live, you're too small to throw people. One option from this point could be to simply pull your attacker backward."

"And trip them from behind, getting away," she said dutifully, keeping her breathing steady, at least. A little faster, maybe. It was a litany at this point. It was still Sutter's opinion that if someone were trying to hurt her, she should get away from them because she was fast. Getting away was her best option, he'd said, again and again, fighting a last resort.

And he noticed everything, Isobet partially convinced he could read her thoughts, hoping there were some, at least, he didn't know about.

"You killed a guard," he said, reading her thoughts. "You're badass, if you'll listen."

"Yes," she said.

"Wrap your arms around my left thigh, move forward and straighten. You're not going to lift. You're not strong enough to lift me. You're just going to guide me when I'm pulled off balance and I'm going to fall on my back. Make sure you get clear. Go ahead."

She felt it, felt what would need to happen. As usual, when she did it right, he went with it. When he was on the ground, she dropped on top of him and bared her teeth, it was so satisfying. He grinned at her like he did, his eyes warmer than she could have thought possible. He rolled, getting her under him, and she burst into motion, controlled, and actually threw him off.

She scrambled up onto her hands and knees trying to get away and he surged up and locked her in, his arm around her waist, his other hand slipping into her undershirt and touching her nipple, a shock of sensation.

Isobet startled, struggling a little, and then went still, her heart beginning to pound hard as Sutter tightened his hold, moving to her other nipple and squeezing it with his fingertips.

That was no accident, and they were hard. He'd meant to do that. Sensitive. It felt good. That felt so good. She gave a small cry, struggling against him as he tugged and pinched, going from one to the other, her hands planted. A part of her didn't believe it. She finally stilled, the tugs going straight between her legs, feeling how flushed she was.

Sutter pushed her undershirt up and off of her in one movement. He caught her in another hold, behind her, his arm around her throat, pulling her with him onto their sides, Sutter behind her.

Isobet exploded into movement, his breathing heavy in her ear, but she couldn't get out of it. His leg came around her, trapping her, her back to his front as his other hand went to her pants, unbuttoning them slowly. She struggled, bucking and rubbing against his sex behind her, feeling how slippery she was between her legs as Sutter tightened everything, still unbuttoning.

He released her a little with his legs to push her pants down and she used the leverage it gave her, twisting, feeling cool air on her butt, wiggling all over him, but she was trapped. He just had her, Sutter pushing her pants off with his feet. His leg trapped her again, all of her immobilized, one arm still around her neck. He arched her by arching himself and his hand came up and his fingers were on her nipples again.

It went on forever, his hand all over her breasts, pinching sometimes, and she was squirming, rubbing on him. His sex in his pants aligned with her, that friction between them, mindless with the feelings of his fingers tugging her nipples. He was pressing rhythmically against her butt, his hips moving as his hand left her nipples and went down over her belly and slipped between her legs.

Trying to keep her thighs closed, she was afraid he'd learn how wet she was. Isobet went still when he pushed his fingers in to cup her. He would know, Isobet's face burning, between her legs swollen and sensitive and aching, his fingers pressing, her sex twinging, the sensations all she could think about.

He nuzzled her, stroking where he could, and she knew how it would feel if she let him do it. Isobet went still, going limp, relaxing her thighs and slowly opened her legs. She wanted him to touch her there and she didn't care anymore.

"Good girl," he said, his breath shuddering out behind her, gentle touches that glided their way up and down her sex.

It felt just like she had thought it would, even better. She realized she was making noises, had been making noises, soft cries. Isobet hitched. His finger penetrated her, his thumb rubbing her clitoris. Her hips were moving. "Sutter," she said.

He didn't answer, his fingers moving faster between her legs, the source of all pleasure. She hitched again. He was going to make her come. On his fingers, he was going to make her come on his fingers.

She cried out and the feeling arrived, breaking over her so quickly. She couldn't breathe as it shot up higher. Sutter was holding her even tighter, his fingers busy as it finally crested and she whined, writhing. Isobet humped his hand as he pressed his sex against her bottom. His arm left her neck, but she couldn't move anyway, his fingers going to her nipples and making it so much worse. She cried out again, still coming.

"Son of a bitch," he said behind her.

Releasing, pulsing wildly, she barely heard him, crying out a little again, trying to catch her breath. The shocks went through her, her sex clutching at his fingers.

She finally went limp, her thighs tensing around his hand again, Isobet closing her legs. Her heart was going fast, feeling his heart pounding against her.

He moved, putting her on her back and getting over her, kneeing her legs open and settling himself between them. Sutter's elbows were planted on either side of her head, his face close. She could feel his hard sex, although he still had his clothing on.

Isobet looked back at him as he studied her, aware she was naked, her cheeks hot. He bent, stopping, their faces close, and then touched her lips with his, gentle.

She made a small noise and Sutter was kissing her, their tongues tangling. Her legs fell open under him, her arms coming around his neck. Her nipples were sensitive where they brushed against his shirt.

He drew back, coming up on one elbow and looking down at her breasts, reaching to cup one, his face absorbed. He touched his thumb to her nipple, rubbing, a sharp bite going through her, her breath catching. His eyes flashed to hers and he went lower, leaning down and taking her nipple into his mouth.

A slow wave went through her, the intense sex-feelings back, but she was a little sensitive, too, her breath stuttering. It was so strange that he was doing this. The feelings became stronger as he continued to do it, going between one and the other. She was already wet, her hips squirming, and when he put his hand back between her legs, she opened them some for him to stroke lightly, closing her eyes. He stopped stroking and she felt herself spasm against his fingers, urging him with her hips.

When she opened them, he was looking at her face. His expression was familiar, her belly flip-flopping, that distant gaze, and he suddenly flipped her onto her belly in one motion, kneeing her legs open. Surprised, she struggled against him as he held her down, his weight on her, keeping her there, rubbing his sex in his pants on her bare butt.

Then his weight lifted from her and she heard his belt buckle and shuddered under him. She wanted that, had wanted it. She squirmed against him, Isobet feeling his silky sex, warm and hard, as he guided it up and down her slit, slippery. He nudged and was pressing steadily, the head of his sex entering her.

She liked the sensation and then she began to feel it as he opened her. Isobet sucked in her breath and was breathing fast. That hurt. Isobet squirmed as he went deeper. "Sutter," she said.

He made a deep sound that sent a thrill through her belly. "Wet and tight and hot," he grunted.

Pulling back, he pushed in more, small rocking motions, but if she tensed, he slowed down. She relaxed a little, cautious. He went deeper. Her body was shivering and eager, Isobet not wanting it to hurt anymore because it was getting in the way of how good it felt.

He made a sound behind her and was suddenly deep in her body. She felt him shudder, Isobet tensing and crying out, panting.

"Spread your legs, killer," he said, not moving.

"No," she said, her head turned to the side, breathing fast, keeping her legs closed. He was crazy. It would hurt too much if she did that.

He leaned down and nuzzled her. "Spread your legs," he said again, his voice soft.

Isobet slowly spread her legs, Sutter getting out of her way, his knees between them now.

"More, baby. Give me all of it."

For a few heartbeats, she was frozen, and then she spread under him and jutted completely, a deep wave going through her, part fear, part thrill. She was full of him, an ache there that burned and twinged.

His breathing was staggering on the exhale. "Good girl," he said.

Her sex spasmed in anticipation when she felt his hand slipping around and down under her lower belly, reaching her sex, touching between her legs, feeling around and finding her clitoris, stroking again. She moved on him still in her, his fingers rubbing, exactly right, every pass more pleasurable. Isobet cried out as he started thrusting, his sex forcing itself into her and pulling out a little, coming back.

Staying still, she was caught between the sensations, hearing herself whine. It hurt, a burning ache, and felt too good to stop. He thrust harder, his hips pumping.

She winced every time he got the deepest, but in between it felt incredible. "Sutter," she said, hitching, tilting more, asking for it.

"You're so sexy." He punctuated what he said with his thrusts.

Her wincing was getting worse but she didn't care. "More," she said.

"That's it, baby, " he said, exhaling, his fingers stroking, thrusting his sex into her.

She was almost there. It was a prickling feeling to start, centered in her sex and then radiating out. She arched and tilted, giving him a deeper angle as it began, her body going rigid.