Hugging and cuddling was different to sexually touching him.
She was glad she couldn’t hear any noises of pleasure coming from within the forest. Emerie was certain she would have lost her marbles and waltzed over to him.
It was salacious and mind-tingling to know he was just beyond the trees, masturbating. It was even more lewd knowing he was probably thinking of and picturing her, the centre of his carnal desires.
Holy crap... I’m a Duskwalker’s jerk-off material. A giddy squirm made her press her thighs together, knowing she was probably broken in the head to think that was hot. I don’t think any guy has jerked off to the idea of me.
Maybe they had, but Emerie was secretly super insecure. She tried not to show people that, but it was hard to hide in the bedroom. She didn’t like fully undressing for sex. She preferred to keep her shirt on like it was glued to her skin, and insisted on doing it mainly in the dark or dim light.
Even after what Ingram said to her, it didn’t magically make that go away. Part of her knew if Ingram saw what lay beneath her clothing and he got turned off by it... she didn’t think her bruised ego could handle it.
If a monster thought her body was ugly, what hope in the world did she have?
Pressing down on her nipples, she tried to get them to soften and stop being erect. They kept scraping against the inside of her shirt, reminding her of their awareness of the situation.
Ingram had been gone a little while, and she wished he would hurry up and return so they could discuss what he’d said before. She’d like to help him understand what was going on in his mind, and maybe his heart, so she could fix it.
He shouldn’t want her. He should want his own species – if they have females that aren’t related to him – or a human that was perhaps prettier and kinder than Emerie.
Someone who hadn’t done wrong by him in the past; something she was too afraid to apologise for in case it made him hate her.
Just as her mind eased its frantic reeling, sticks snapping under heavy and approaching footsteps made her flinch. She turned in the direction she heard movement, and her blush deepened at being caught red-faced with her strange and abnormal lustful thoughts.
“A-are you all done?” she quietly asked.
Ingram emerged from the tree line, gripping his still-hard dick, and Emerie’s gaze averted so hard she almost spun around. Her heart doubled its beats and wanted to give out. Nope! Definitely not done!
She worried he was going to approach her and force her to take care of it, but the thwack of his body hitting the ground made it obvious he wasn’t. Peeking from the corner of her eyelids, she noticed that he’d sat down in the clearing with her, but with his side facing her.
His knees were up, shielding his crotch from her.
A frown marred her features, especially since his arm wasn’t moving like he was playing with himself. Honestly, Ingram was just sitting there. The only things moving were his panting chest and his tail tip tapping at the ground like it did when he was annoyed.
Her voice sounded weak to her own ears as she said, “What are you doing? I-I told you to go take care of it.”
Ingram snapped his head away from her.
“I do not like being on my own.” Then, his shoulders slumped and turned inward, just as his orbs glowed a reddish pink bright enough to illuminate the side of his bony cheek. His voice was softer when he said, “It will go away. But I must... I must hold it so it does not sting. The air hurts.”
Emerie bit her lip as a gut-churning emotion surged behind her sternum. She knew the colour of his orbs meant he felt either shame or embarrassment.
I didn’t mean to make him feel like that. She didn’t want him to be ashamed of his own body, or embarrassed about something that was completely natural.
Shit. I feel like a hypocrite.
She’d let plenty of men use her body for sexual release just to ease her own loneliness. Couldn’t she do that for someone who, in just a few short words tonight, made her feel prettier than anyone else ever had?
For someone who had made her heart squeeze in the strangest, most tender of aches, when it had been a long time since she’d felt that for another person. Just moments before, she’d had palm-sized butterflies in her stomach because of him, and smaller ones fluttering beneath the flesh of her nipples and clit.
The thing was... Emerie didn’t step closer because he needed her, needed someone to ease his ache. She approached Ingram simply because she wanted to derive pleasure in a disjointed embrace. One that she could tell... he wanted but was denying for her sake.
Unlike many cruel human beings, he wasn’t going to force her or assault her just for his own pleasure. He was doing the bare fucking minimum to be a good person, and it made her want to touch him even more.
The fact he was also sitting there, just to be near her, meant that he didn’t simply want release. There was something else beneath his desires, and its vulnerability called to her.
Ingram’s muscles visibly bunched when she neared, so she approached more cautiously. She nibbled at her lips as she did, and each crack of a twig beneath her shoes made her more nervous... and giddy.
“Do you still want me to touch you, Ingram?” she softly asked, tentatively reaching out to his biceps.
“No,” he sneered, darting his head away once more, but not before his orbs brightened in their reddish pink. “I don’t want you to touch me when you don’t want to.”
Once more, shame stung behind her sternum.
Just as she was about to put her hand on his biceps, a quiet but menacing growl rumbled from him. She hesitated for a long moment, then pressed her fingertips against his scales. His skull turned to her with orbs flaring bright red, and his rumbling worsened.
Oh god, please don’t bite me, she thought with a plea, coming around to stand between his feet. Don’t bite me. Don’t bite me.
“It’s okay,” she tried to reassure, bending so she could reach out with her other hand towards his cock. “Let me touch you. I want to.”
The moment her fingertips made contact with his exposed head, he let out a groaning expire. His orbs instantly shifted to bright purple – although a different tone of it in comparison to its usual orchid.
When she palmed the bulbous tip and gently grabbed the head, she’d expected him to release the centre of his length and draw her in. Instead, he gripped himself so tight the tip swelled against her palm.
“Why?” he rasped.
Emerie slid her other hand up his biceps and cupped the very corner of his jaw. “Because I do want to touch you. I’m just... nervous. I can be shy at times.”
That wasn’t the whole truth, but it was at least part of it.