Communication

Her form.. muscular and feminine.. the length of her bare spine calling to me from across my wagon. I crossed the distance quickly.. not bothering to step lightly as the turian carpets muffled the sounds well enough she would have enough difficulty triangulating my direction before I hit her from behind... One fist full of hair.. the other full of the flesh of her left thigh..

I was not gentle with this woman..

she...
was not gentle with me.

She is of the plains, a dark skin beauty trained for battle. Her teeth sharpened like that of a larl... and her body scared some by her own hand. I took her from the wagons of traders.. Unnatural dweller worms hanging the bones of their dead from their own wagons. They sickened me.. I did not even want to get close enough to kill them.. in fact, as it happened I did not have to. It was fucking sweet the way they fell to my arrows pouring out of the wagon at just the right speed! I love it when everything works like I want it to!

She landed sprawled on her belly already reaching back behind her to find purchase clawing my leathers, trying to give herself enough leverage to roll over and face me. Trying to use those fucking teeth of hers! Truth be told.. that is one of the reasons I enjoy her. She reminds me how good it is to be tuchuk! The strength of the plains and bosk are in her.. She is not weak. If she were.. I would have broken her by now. If she were weak she would be sleen bait. If she were weak I would not want her.
I did not allow her enough time to grasp my leather before I slammed her body hard against the floor of the wagon. I yanked her head back and sank my own teeth into the back of her shoulder until I felt her body relax beneath me.. There is a strength to those small gestures of surrender, they feed me.. they drive me. I let go of her shoulder and growled into her ear..

"I'm going to hurt you."

my statement was simple.. I needed her to understand on a very basic level. I needed her to know. When she relaxed into the floor she pulled her arms back in, resting her palms flat on the carpet her movements became slow and sedate, deliberate she pushed her torso up from the floor twisting back to look at me she spoke..

"I know"

Her tone low.. even soothing. She rarely spoke to me.. Rarely spoke unless I demanded it of her. I released my fist from her hair.. allowed her the movement to speak... to answer.. to look at me. That was the way between us.. It worked for me. It seemed to work for her. She no longer spoke of killing me.. she didn't even try very hard. Even seeking me out in her own way.. with her own strength. She did her chores.. cooked, gathered fuel, did the morning watering of my sleen... She did what she had to because she is no fool. Occasionally.. she did something she wanted to to show me her strength and I respected that. I have not chained her to my wagon in many hands now. She has not made me regret that.

I hurt her that evening.. in many many ways. It wasn't the paga..Although there are times I would blame the paga. I wanted to feel it... I needed to. Her pulse in my palm.. her fear splattered across my chest. I needed to feel it solid like the plains, like the sky.. not faded and weak falling out from beneath me into oblivion leaving me un sated and alone.

If nothing else I would keep her simply because she can do this for me, and live.