WILLA

I must have missed some of the details about resonance. Silly me, I thought it meant that we'd screw like bunnies a few times, he'd knock me up, and then we'd just be a happy couple moving on to our happy ever after and a life of blissful happiness on the snowiest planet in the galaxy. I didn't think that the whole resonance thing might take more than a few rounds.

That is not the case.

We make love constantly. Sometimes fast, sometimes achingly slow to the point that I come at least three or four times before Gren does. He's fascinated with giving me pleasure, and I'm all too happy to receive. We make love a dozen times in one day, barely pausing to eat or drink before falling on each other again.

And we do the same thing the next day.

And the day after.

Veronica and Ashtar leave at some point, heading back toward the others who are still on the beach. Gren and I head back to bed, though nothing really changes now that we're alone again. We make love, sleep, make love again, sleep some more, eat, make love, and on and on it goes.

My cootie doesn't stop in its incessant thrumming. If anything, it's getting louder. Gren's, too. It's a little odd to me because I really thought that things would slow down after a few days.

I'm not complaining, of course—the sex is amazing. Gren is beyond wonderful and I love touching him. I love exploring his body—strange but familiar, unique and tempting—and watching his reaction. I love it when he touches me, learning what makes me respond, and I love how even his scent seems to make me full of lust.

But I would like to wake up at least one day and not feel as if I'm going to die if he doesn't bone me right away.

We run low on supplies after a few more days of endless lovemaking. Through a half-panted discussion, Gren and I talk about hunting, but he tells me in our few words that it would be difficult for him and gestures at his seemingly constantly erect cock.

Which, of course, makes me climb onto him like a rabid wolverine. Once we're done with each other again, though, I realize he's right. I don't know that I'd be able to do much myself. My thighs seem to be constantly quivering with need and just the thought of leaving our bed makes me feel hollow and achy.

I wish Veronica had stuck around for a few more days—and that I hadn't been too busy in the furs to talk to her for longer than a few moments. I want to know if she and Ashtar went through this. If everyone's experience with resonance is as intense as ours is.

I don't mind the intense. I just wonder how long it's going to continue. Surely it'll slow down before we completely run out of food?

But my need for him—and his for me—doesn't seem to be pacing itself. And as another day passes and our lovemaking becomes more fevered and frantic, I start to wonder if this is a problem.

I worry this is going to affect Gren negatively. He still needs to rest after his sickness, but every time we look at each other, the wild ache starts, and then we're just hands and mouths everywhere. It's amazing. It's also a little tiring.

I feel like someone complaining about having an all-you-can-eat ice cream buffet, though. How can I possibly worry over being so attracted to someone so good at sex?

Because lord have mercy, is Gren good at sex. He gives me toe-curling orgasms every time I turn around. We sleep tucked against each other, exhausted, only to rouse when one partner starts kissing the other. Then, the cycle starts all over again.

I can't count how many times we've made love in the last handful of days.

It just…seems to keep on going.

Gren sleeps, worn out, and I wrap a blanket around my body to poke at the coals of the fire. We're dangerously low on fuel, but with Gren to keep me warm, I guess we don't need it. Still, I'm trying to keep it going because I don't know how to make my own fire just yet. Better to keep the one I've got. We need to go out and gather more of the shit-cakes that act as fuel, but just the effort of leaving the cave and slogging through the snow makes me tired. I'm exhausted from a week straight of nothing but sex. Boneless and delicious, yes, but also exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for an entire day, but I know that won't happen. The itching, crazy need will come upon us again and we'll be on each other like bunnies before a few hours pass, desperate for more. My cootie purrs loudly in my chest, as if agreeing with me, insatiable thing that it is.

Yawning, I straighten, smacking my lips. My waterskin is completely empty and I slip on my boots, heading toward the front of the cave in blanket and boots to get some more snow to melt. Hydration is important in marathon screwing, after all. The thought both amuses me and makes me tired as I drag myself toward the front of the cave, yawning the entire length of the winding tunnel.

The cold wind whips into my face before I see sunlight, and before I see that Hassen, the big galoot, is at the front entrance. He's butchering what looks like a long, twiggy-limbed pony and glances over at me as if it's no big deal. "Ho."

I touch a hand to my hair, inwardly wincing. It's nothing but a curly nest of bedhead and snarls from being constantly rubbed against the furs as Gren drives into me. Just thinking about that makes me all hot, though, and I hug my blanket closer to my chest, frowning at him and already missing my big furry mate. "What are you doing here?"

"You need fresh meat," he tells me. "How is your fire? Do you need a coal?"

"Um, no, we're okay for now, I guess. We could use some fuel, but I'll get it later." I hitch the blanket tighter, realizing I almost asked him for help. I don't want to—I don't want to give him a reason to stay. He's nice to me, but I remember how he treated Gren.

He grunts. "Resonance still rides both of you hard. I can smell it on the breeze. Makes me think of my Mah-dee." He looks up, grinning. "Fresh meat for now, and I will bring you both some fuel so you don't have to leave your cave until it is fulfilled."

"We don't need the help, but thanks. You can go home now."

Hassen ignores me, hacking at one leg of the kill. "Would that I could. My Masan is probably giving Mah-dee trouble. I will go home and she will have no mane left on her head, having pulled it all out at our son's high spirits."

"Why don't you go home, then, if you miss them so much?" I know he does. Every time he speaks, he talks about either his wife or his kid, which makes it hard to hate him. I also hate that I'm looking forward to fresh-roasted meat after a week of eating nothing but chewy, greasy trail mix. I don't want to be indebted to him, though. It'll make detangling ourselves from the tribe that much harder.

He snorts and shakes his head, turning back to his kill. "One problem solves itself and yet another arises. I feel we will be here on this beach forever." And his smile disappears. When he hacks at the next leg of the critter, it seems to carry frustration with it.

"What problems?"

Hassen glances over at me. "Nothing for you to worry over. Or are you and Gren returning to camp with us now?" He brightens at the thought, straightening. "I thought you would be here for another day or two."

"We're not going back." I tuck the blanket closer around my naked body, shivering in the wind. "Ever."

"Ever? Ever is a very long time."

"Ever," I say firmly. "I remember how everyone treated Gren."

"How should we have treated him? Smiled as he attacked us with his claws? Offered him hugs and pats on the head as he ripped our innards from our bodies?"

"You could have tried talking to him," I snap, hating that his logic makes sense. It doesn't make it right. "He's not an animal, you know. He speaks just as well as you or I, just in a different language."

"Ah." Hassen tilts his head, thinking. Then he shrugs and returns to butchering his kill. "This meat is best raw, but if you are like the other humans, you will want to burn it over the fire until all the good blood is gone." He straightens, wiping his knife on a bit of leather, and then glances over at me. "Can I help you with anything else?"

"I told you, we don't want anything—"

"I am not here because you want me here." He grins at me, clearly delighting in being an irritating pain in the ass. "I am here because my chief asked it. He told me to look after the two of you and so I shall. You will be as a pair of my own kits." He pauses, and then adds slyly, "A pair of very eager-to-mate kits."

"Just…go away." I wave a hand at him and turn on my heel to head back into the cave. I'll get fresh water later. God.

"I will leave this here for you," he calls after me. "And fuel. Speak if you need anything else and it shall be yours."

The only thing I want is for us to be left alone, but I know he won't grant us that.

When Gren wakes up, his nostrils flare and I know he picks up Hassen's scent. He growls furiously, the possessive look in his eyes, and stalks to the front of the cave, claws extended as if he's going to rip the other alien's throat out. I trot behind him, worried, as I try to distract him. "Gren, sugar, he's just trying to help."

We get to the front of the cave, and I'm relieved to see that Hassen is long gone, the butchered kill neatly spread out on a hide, along with a satchel full of shit-cakes and what look like two fresh waterskins. He is taking care of us, it seems. Gren scowls at the open air, and when I move to his side, he pulls me against him, snarls my name, and then brings me to the cave wall. It isn't until he drops to his knees and puts his mouth on my pussy that I realize what he's doing.

He's claiming me, right in this tunnel, as if to show the world that I belong to him and him alone.

I protest—well, only a little—and his wonderful mouth makes me come far too quickly. I'm still panting with my release when he turns me to face the wall, and I gladly put my hands on it, bracing them as he thrusts into me from behind. I come again when he does, our bodies trembling with exhaustion. It's still so good, even after a dozen rounds a day.

I know this is Gren marking his territory, so to speak, but I don't mind it. I'm his and I want the world to know he's mine, too.

We're hungry, though, and the supplies left behind are too tempting to abandon. We haul them inside, and I hate that Hassen is right; even this small effort feels like a lot of energy. Our bodies don't seem to want to do anything but have sex, and we're rapidly growing too tired even for that. I watch Gren, worried. He's stronger than me, sure, but he was also close to losing his life just a short time ago.

Resonance could have really picked some better timing.

The fresh meat does a lot to help our strength, though. Gren devours an entire leg raw by himself, then starts on the next. I cook mine, though I do try a grudging bite of Gren's raw food. It's not my favorite, but I could eat it if I had to. Good to know, in case fire ends up being too difficult for us to do on our own. I look around the cozy cave, and all I see are supplies from the others. The blanket I hold against my chest, the fuel for the fire, even the cooking utensils are carved from bone by tribal hands. I don't like leaning on them for all this stuff, but at the same time, it makes life so much easier.

When we leave, we'll have to start from scratch. The thought is pretty daunting.

I won't think about it right now. One thing at a time.

Gren takes the water pouch and hangs it over the fire, and when he pulls out a bit of soap and his eyes gleam, I chuckle. "Bath time?" I ask.

"Willa," he says, and gives that lovely little snarl I'm coming to adore. I don't know what it means, yet, but I will eventually. He takes my hand in his, helps me stand, and then ever-so-gently peels the blanket away from my nude body. His eyes glow in the firelight as he regards the small bruises and light scratches on my skin from our week of marathon sex. A lot of them were because I was too impatient and banged up against something in my haste to tackle him. Gren's cootie is roaring in his chest, drowning out the soft sounds he makes of his own language, and when he reaches for the fur “towel,” heat washes over me.

"Sexy bath time, I see," I murmur as he wets the cloth and then puts it on one breast, teasing the aching tip even as he washes me. My skin gleams damp in the firelight, and after a moment's consideration, he puts his mouth over my nipple, licking off the droplets of water.

Something tells me that we're not going to get very far with the whole “bathing” thing, but I find that I don't really care.