Chapter 7
1130 Words
Soleil
The awkward cat-and-dog chase lasted a week. I tried to be friendly, but he kept acting like a stranger. I'll give him credit for his consistency with his rudeness.
"Hey!" I called. It was dinnertime, and I never saw him all day but now. He just came back, and I noticed his chest with streaks of blood and dirt. "What happened?"
"Went for a hunt," he answered, and he entered his tent.
I was by a firepit I made, sitting on a wooden chair he probably made.
"Why don't you join me for dinner, Quillon?" I said, knowing he could hear me clearly.
'You know he hates you, right?' my wolf said to me.
'Duh. That shouldn't stop me from being nice,' I answered back. I swear my wolf is rolling her eyes right now.
"Not hungry," Quillon said.
I pouted. I grilled more fish than I could eat with a purpose.
I thought about our situation, and it's not a good sign to be in this state with my neighbor. That's how I decided to put in an effort, cook for us, have dinner, be civil, and talk, well, whatever we could talk about.
"What can I say, you really know how to hurt my feelings," I mumbled, but I know Quillon heard it.
His exasperated exhale confirmed that my words reached him. I smirk to myself. Somehow, I think I really know how to push his buttons.
"I cooked for three people, Quillon. This food will be a waste if you don't join me."
A grunt coming from his tent made the hairs on my nape rise.
"I didn't ask you to do that."
"And still, I did. So why don't you stop acting like a child with tantrums and help me finish our dinner?"
Rustling sounds made me turn to look at his tent. He went out, looking at me as if he wanted my head. He was shirtless, and his jeans hung low on his hips. His hand was holding a wet cloth, and his bare chest was no longer dirty.
I took my sweet time to gawk at his body. Those hard six-pack muscles made me straighten my spine, and the V-line below made me squirm.
Hot damn, he's really hot.
"A child, huh?" he said in a low voice. Okay, he's mad again. But what's new?
I cleared my throat and looked away.
"Ah-huh. Come sit and eat with me if you're done acting like one."
I saw him shake his head in my peripheral vision, toss the wet cloth somewhere, and stride towards me.
I smiled at him when he slumped down on the chair in front of me. The wooden table, one he probably also made, was between us with the food I prepared.
"You really thought I'd fall for that, huh?" He said, grabbing a plate made with leaves that I made.
I shrugged.
"Yet you're here," I grinned sheepishly. "Now, it doesn't matter if it worked or not."
"It didn't. I only hate seeing food go to waste."
I chuckled. "Alright, if you say so."
His jaw clenched, but he started eating.
We didn't talk until we finished eating. I contemplated starting a conversation, but I couldn't think of any topic.
Plus, the way Quillon looked at me while I put food in my mouth, or sucked on the head of the fish felt like he wanted to grill me next. I thought speaking would only put me more on his bad side, so I didn't.
**
The next morning, I woke up to the chirps of the birds. The forest was too silent, far from the past few days when the wind was playful, and leaves were rustling nonstop.
I stretched when I went out of my tent. Sleeping in a fetal position makes my feet numb and cramped. I really should renovate my tent, maybe look for more materials on the side of the forest I haven't explored yet.
"Uhh..."
My head whiffed on Quillon's tent when I heard it. Was it a grunt? Did he just wake up?
"Ugh..." Another grunt of pain. I'm sure it was a grunt of pain. What's happening to him?
I walked towards his tent and heard more humming sounds coming inside.
Did he hurt himself while hunting yesterday? What did he hunt for, anyway? I didn't see him bring any dead prey. Did it hurt him, and he only escaped?
Fuck, was it his blood on his chest last night?!
I didn't notice any wound, but what if it was his leg or his back?
Oh, damn! If he was hurt, he must have been enduring it since last night! I slept so well, I didn't notice any of his sounds of pain!
Without any more delay, I grabbed the tent flap, opened my mouth to ask if he was okay, but stopped.
My parted mouth couldn't make a sound from what I caught him doing.
Quillon stood in the middle of his tent, leaning against the log post with one hand. His head hung low, and his other hand was stroking his...
Fuck! He was stroking his c**k!
I felt flushed with heat as I watched him. I couldn't take my eyes off him.
Another grunt came from his throat, followed by a low growl. I watched his eyes close, his lips parted, as he continued pumping at a fast pace. His head thrown back in ecstasy as he pleasured himself.
I couldn't move. I wanted to, but my feet seemed to be stuck in the ground. My heart beat fast and my breath came out hot and bothered.
I couldn't see his manhood in its entirety, but the way he moved his hand made it seem long. The tip of his c**k was big and girthy, and that's all I could see, but I'm positive he was huge and blessed in the package department.
Fucking hell, I'm watching Quillon pleasure himself! And I can't f*****g stop!
Another grunt came from him but it was long and stretched, his hand moved even faster and his neck corded.
His almost there... Damn, I still couldn't move.
Quillon's body tensed as he reached his c****x, and thick ropes of c*m shooting from his c**k were splattering on the ground.
"Soleil. Ugh! f**k!" He moaned in a low, trembling voice as the last drop of c*m came out of his tip.
I gasped. Did he just moaned my name? My name?!
My gasp must've taken Quillon's attention because he snapped his head to me and his eyes met my widening pair.
He was stunned; his eyes widened a bit. But I didn't wait for him to speak or fix himself.
I didn't waste time and stepped back, running deep into the forest.
- Writer
