Aria allowed her head to lean sideways, so slowly; until she could peer around the tree with one eye into the forest beyond. Her claws dug slightly into the tree trunk at the height of her shoulders to stabilise her, her elbows tucked inward, pressing lightly onto the warmth of her breasts.
She wrinkled her nose as she took in the air of the forest, her incisors baring fractionally. Yes: there it was again, tantalising, lying like silk over the recent rain, the rot, and the woven tapestry of other forest creatures going about their business.
The smell of another such as her. The smell of Vala.
She felt a tug of adrenalin, and her teeth were exposed a little more. This time, she would be the victor; hers, the spoils. The undergrowth ahead was tangled under the low trees: she would not lose the trail again. Wherever Vala was hiding she would find her; claim her.
Her torso began to sink towards the roots of the tree; so smoothly that no animal would mark the movement. She would follow the scent, and in the foliage she would find the subtle but tell-tale signs of the passage of a large, upright-walking feline. Her hips pivoted until her long thighs were parallel to her sinuous spine; and further, as she tucked herself lithely under a root that sprang like a buttress across her path.
Almost snake-like, she worked around the tree until she was hidden among the ferns beyond. Her nose was low to the ground: close by was the unmistakable scent trail. It was only moments old; and while Aria expected to see nothing until the hunt was over and the final, explosive chase begun, she knew that Vala was close.
She relished the moment. Soon, she would release her power. Soon, she would leap, strike, bear her prey to the ground. Vala would know who had sprung first, who was the hunter and who the hunted. She might sacrifice her dignity for a playful wrestle, as Aria had done so many times; but still the result would be clear.
She prowled forward, a predatory presence, barely distinguishable from an eddy of air in the leaves. The trail was suddenly closer; she reached her nose forward to understand. Was it crossing her path? Her elegant head swept impatiently from one side to the other. No: it seemed to end, right there, in front of her.
All at once she saw the broken stems before her, saw the two fractional indentations in the litter; and realisation dawned. A snarl escaped her throat as her claws dug into the ground to make her escape; but it was too late.
Vala landed with two feet and one hand on the ground; but the remaining hand and the weight of her body still pinned Aria more surely than any tackle from ground level. Her teeth immediately closed on the scruff of Aria's neck; and Aria's roar of furious disappointment shook the birds from the trees.
Her defeat was total, her will to fight broken. She went limp on the forest floor, her face to one side, only her eyes alive to catch sight of her conqueror. Vala released her neck and twisted to meet her stare. There would be no words. Their next acts were dictated by ancient and sacred ritual; and despite her anger Aria felt her loins grow warm with anticipation as she waited for the signal.
But Vala shook her head and tutted. 'You are already mine,' she said softly, and her tongue flicked out to taste Aria's ear. 'I do not wish to claim you again.'
Aria raised her eyebrows a fraction in surprise. The words formed an insult; and yet Vala did not speak scornfully. She went on: 'I am the superior hunter. Let us see instead who is the faster.'
She bared her teeth and lifted her weight from Aria's back. Then she exploded upwards, effortlessly grasping the thick branch above with her claws and hauling herself back atop it, the muscles of her arms rippling with power. Aria reflexively gathered her legs under her, watching, uncertain.
'We will perform the rite at our bower,' called Vala. 'If you are there first, it shall be I who submits.'
And without another word she was away, disappearing among the leaves and branches as though suddenly claimed by the forest.
Aria's legs reacted faster than her mind. She was a predator: she gave chase. All the power of her natural stance, spine, legs, and feet, poured into the ground in a convulsive thrust that drove her into the air; not vertically, but into a graceful arc that bore her surely onto the nearest good footing: a fallen trunk five body-lengths away.
She landed lightly, her hands touching first to fractionally guide and correct her direction; then her feet were down and driving again. The forest was a blur except for the pinpoint targets of each leap, each appearing to her without conscious consideration: bare ground, rocks, roots. She snarled, a snarl of joy, an expression of love for her own power and skill.
While her body and instincts propelled her onward, her mind and senses scanned the forest for Vala. She knew that her adversary would come to ground eventually: leaping from branch to branch was playful and brazen, but not fast. And the trees were coming to an end, giving way to more open scrub.
Aria burst from the tangle, and immediately knew that Vala was above and behind her. As her feet touched down from her last, longest leap, she veered aside. She heard Vala hit the ground beside her and pounce. But now they were both running, and evenly matched.
Their strides were long, but still they needed to work around the bushes, rocks, and uneven footing, sometimes leaping, sometimes using their hands for power or stability. They were sometimes apart, sometimes close enough for Aria to feel the brush of Vala's arm against hers. But she was always one pace ahead; and though her body burned with exertion, the rush of life and conquest was greater.
They were coming to the crumbling cliff that led into the lush jungle where their abode was hidden. Aria's mind pictured the descent: if she jumped skilfully there, she would reach the rock ledge there, and then with a spectacular leap, a hundred yards from the ground, she would be among the high branches of the highest tree, from there the height would work to her advantage as she descended from tree to tree.
The horizon suddenly opened into a razor sharp line between sky-blue and sea-blue. She heard Vala falter behind her, heard her sharp intake of breath at Aria's apparently suicidal headlong sprint. Aria caught a glimpse of the beach, so far below, sunlight glittering on ocean spray; she planted her foot down hard on the last tussock of grass overhanging the cliff, twisting, knowing that if the edge crumbled she would surely fall to her death.
It held. She was flying, falling, reaching her clawed fingers to her landing place as it came into view, ten yards ahead, twenty below. The rock rushed at her like the swing of a sledgehammer. All four limbs pounded into its solid face; in the blink of an eye she had her shoulder tucked down and she was rolling, her spine curled, absorbing the force, so tightly that the breath was crushed from her lungs.
The blow was enormous but her body was equal to it; and her eyes and mind were already on the next leap: her feet were under her once more, her toes curled down over the sharp further edge of the rock. There was no time to change her plan, no way to lose the inertia imparted by gravity and muscle.
She leaped.
In her vision: the emerald of the jungle, the spectacular sea; above her the sun, pure dazzling white. She roared her joy, and the cliff returned it to her with the devotion of a lover.
Then the tree was her world. Her speed was so great that to grasp a single branch was impossible. Her fingers caught at leaves, twigs, anything to slow her; a more substantial branch clipped her feet and she arched her back reflexively to stop from tumbling; then her shoulder exploded with pain as it impacted wood. Her claws gouged furrows into it; the next branch pounded into her hip and she was flipped over it.
She was out the other side, falling, tumbling. She slapped into the leaves of an outstretched offshoot of the next tree, grasped at it, caught it. It bent, not strong enough to hold her; but now her feet were under her, and her senses were coming into tune with her plunge. She caught the next limb squarely in her hands; swung under it, landed with her feet on the next.
All her instincts told her to stop, catch her wind, assess the damage. So she crouched, her breath rasping convulsively. A few birds squawked their annoyance from above. Her shoulder and hip were raw with pain, and she could feel blood dripping from cuts on her back and legs. But she was alive, and as she glanced upward and back she bared her teeth, laughed a little.
Her home was only a short distance away, near the beach but hidden among the trees. There was no way Vala could catch her now. Aria would bear the scars of this victory with pride.
She eyed her path forward among the branches, then jumped. Her body still responded well despite jolts from her wounds, and when she finally reached the jungle floor she had her breath back, and her pace was a swift but languid lope.
Perhaps not swift enough.
She heard Vala as a rustle in the leaves behind, that quickly grew into an explosion of energy at her heels. Aria reflexively increased her pace, snarling with annoyance at herself for allowing Vala to get this close. But it seemed that Vala did not intend to allow a sprint finish, that she must surely lose. Aria heard her leave the ground with a roar of desperate effort.
There were claws at her hips. They missed their hold, scratching lines of fire into Aria's skin; but then fingers closed around her trailing leg, clamped; and Aria was falling.
She flopped to the ground; twisted to regain her feet. But now Vala was on top of her: slick sweat, rasping snarl, pinprick claws. Aria responded with fury, rolling, batting out with her open hand, leaving four lines of red across Vala's cheek; only instinct and love keeping her claws retracted enough to avoid tearing Vala's face to shreds.
But Vala did not fight: she planted her feet down and leaped forward over Aria's head. Aria roared at the injustice, springing to her feet; but now Vala was ahead of her. The raised wooden lodge where they lived and loved was right there among the trees. Vala veered around it, heading for the steps and door on the far side.
Aria saw her chance, brought both feet together, pounced. Her fingers wrapped onto the ledge of the small window that faced her, pulled her through. She landed onto her hands on the floor, rolled, pounced again; then she was crouched on the pure white sheets of their bed, snarling in unison with the beautiful feline that appeared at the door beyond.
Vala fell onto her hands, her throat rumbling, and prowled aside in sullen acceptance of defeat.
*
Vala's tongue was firm against Aria's vulva as she licked upward from vagina to clittoris, slowly, rhythmically, dipping slightly between Aria's slick lips before drawing upward to press for an infinite moment at the apogee.
Aria watched her, sitting at the edge of the bed, her legs spread but convulsing inward a little with every rise of Vala's head between them. She was more than wet enough now for the ritual, but Vala did not seem in a hurry to enact it. Besides, they were both exhausted, still sweating and bleeding and panting from their exertions. Despite the glorious rhythm of Vala's tongue, there was no chance of Aria's love rising too soon.
Nevertheless she bared her teeth again in the ecstasy of victory, and threw her head back. Above her was the soft draping of an insect net, and beyond, the converging timber of the round lodge's roof. She and Vala had lived here for months now, shunning the trappings of the technological society their kin had created. They enjoyed each other as lovers, and as hunters; reverting to some of the oldest ways of their kind, from millennia when matriarchs were chosen by tests of skill and bravery, followed by deeply erotic rites of allegiance.
Aria lowered herself onto her back, feeling and accepting the shout of pain from her stiffening shoulder. She let that arm rest, but brought her other hand across to brush her wrist over her nipples, one after the other; her throat rumbled slightly, involuntarily, as the sensation coincided with Vala's attentions. She could not resist letting her fingers press for a moment into softness, imagining it was Vala's breast she held, and lifted, and caressed.
She traced the image outward to the muscle that lay beneath; then down, following its line onto her ribs, until she was hugging her breasts in her elbow and wrist. She would hold Vala like this at night, lying front to back on their sides; and sometimes the feel of her breasts would be too much, and Aria would press forward with her hips; maybe tuck her leg over Vala's side, breathless with need.
The deep purr in Aria's throat was becoming more urgent. Her eyes came open, and she lifted her head. Vala was watching her, impassive, her head dipping and rising in that inexorable rhythm that was now too slow to meet Aria's need.
'I would claim you now,' said Aria softly, her heart thrilling to hear the words from her own mouth. Vala's eyes narrowed fractionally and she paused for a long moment, her tongue visible in her open mouth, its very tip slightly aquiver, sending an arc of lightning through Aria's body. Then her head turned and ducked down again, her cheekbone pressing hard into Aria's wetness.
Aria growled with passion. Vala was rubbing against her, cheek and jaw; chin, then neck. Aria spread her legs wider, her heels rising; and she gripped the bedsheets to stop herself being pushed away. She had wondered if she would go dry, but Vala's sinuous movement and the sheen of her own wetness on Vala's face seemed to trigger her deepest erotic reflexes. And Vala still glistened with sweat in the heat, as though rising beautifully from a still forest pool.
Now she was twisting to bring her shoulder onto Aria's vulva. Aria could feel the muscle pushing hard against her; she felt her vagina throb and pour more thick secretion onto Vala's perfect skin. The sensation was incredible, like a consummation of some base, instinctive desire for power and acceptance of responsibility. So often she had given this pleasure, and she knew that Vala would be feeling its counter: an all-consuming belonging and loyalty.
Vala's arm was drawing upward: point of deltoid, tricep tucked around, bicep firm in extension, like a carving traced with a trail of silvery white. When the curve of her forearm pushed against her, Aria moaned and her head fell backward. She felt that she would orgasm even before she came to Vala's hand; her vagina was pulsing irregularly, her buttocks clenching spasmodically on the edge of the bed.
But Vala was too wise to let her climax: the pressure lessened just enough to keep Aria on an even plateau of satiety; though she did not resist letting her finger dwell on Aria's clit as it passed, making her head fall sideways and her lips snarl with desire.
Then for a moment Vala was gone, and Aria raised her head, hoisted her shoulders up with her good arm. She knew what would come, and she burned to watch. Vala was offering up one breast to her vulva. Aria pushed her hips downward, desperate for the feel of it; and there it was, nipple against clittoris, softness against lips. Aria's vagina throbbed again, then without warning it tightened and a wave of pleasure crashed down upon her; she could not escape nor deny it.
Through her throes she heard Vala chuckle. She had her arms tucked under Aria's legs, and was holding her gently while the orgasm passed over.
Then, with unexpected but perfect timing, her tongue returned to Aria's clit. Aria gasped, and knew with breathless clarity that Vala would not let her lie still until her whole body was anointed, claimed as Aria's own; and she also knew that the greatest sensations of the ritual were even yet to come.
*
When finally Aria lay spent, unable to move, unable to think for all the joy that had coursed relentlessly through her, Vala kissed her vulva and climbed onto the bed. Aria smelt herself as she panted; and the combination of her own and her lover's smell was like sweet nectar. Vala lay atop her and licked her ear, for the second time that day.
'I am yours,' she said. 'And you shall claim me again, whenever you can.'
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