The General - S01 E20

6 months ago

The General - S01 E20

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 20

Yippy is very confused. He recognizes me, but there's something in the air that keeps him alert. It must be the scent of The General— of War.

War... I don't like that name. It doesn't fit him, because although he's built for war, he's not as scary as he seems.

My stomach shrinks when I remember I'm supposed to have every inch of War pressed against me tonight. We're sharing the same bed; two completely different species, sexes, and statutes. I wonder if we'll be feeling different things, too.

"Oh, Yippy," I whisper as I lather his fur with soap. "I'm in trouble."

I can tell exactly when The General stepped out of the tent, because my shoulders drop with relief. Every atom in my body is in tune with his.

For the next few hours, I play fetch with Yippy and consider chickening out of my bravado. Maybe The General won't laugh at me when I admit that the mere thought of sleeping beside him makes me twists me up. Is it too late to back out?

Confusing, overwhelming, poisoned desire swirls in me. I know first-hand how sexualy uncompatible I am with The General, but the memory of the pain shrinks with every kind gesture he makes. A sick flame in me wants to be doused by his semen again.

The General was made to fuck and kill. Whichever god designed him must've not cared about which female he fucks— Zolano, or Human. My body wants to put the theory to the test a second time.

My lust is creating a mess— not only between my thighs, but in my head. How is it possible to fear a male, even to a small degree, but still want to have them agaisnt me? It must be his alluring strength. I've been helpless and weak for so long that I want him to shove some of his power into me.

Playing with Yippy only keeps me entertained for a while. I appreciate having him around, but I still miss being outside. Beside everything I've gone through in this camp, we're still at war and I want our side to win. I can't contribute if I'm sitting around and only worrying about sleeping beside The General.

The other servants must be drowning in work. I can't sit around for an entire month.

The cramps in my stomach intensify the darker it gets. The General didn't visit me throughout the day like he usually does. Is he trying to build up the suspense? Because it's working. My fingers have become as fidgety as Yippy's snout.

After I feed him some tidbits of fruit, I bring him to the cot I made for myself. I know better than to tie him up. He's a free spirit, not a pet, and I know he'll return even if he goes missing for a few days.

"Wish me luck," I whisper, and stroke his clean fur a final time.

I tuck myself into The General's bed. It's evening, and it's humid, but I still bring a blanket under my chin. I'm sweating within minutes, but I need barriers between that man and I.

The knots in my belly migrate to my throat and strangle me. Breathing is becoming harder. Who knew nervousness could be deadly?

I hear movement at the entrance.

"I ended practice early today. The men needed a break. So do I."

So I'm his break? His entertainment? His stress-loss?

I pretend to be asleep. Maybe I can get through this in silence. When the platform dips and I inch closer to him, my breathing becomes so ragged that I blow my little act out of the water. He knows I'm awake. Of course he does. He can spot an enemy fifty yards away.

"Why are you so tense?"

He slips a hand under my blanket and rubs an enormous palm up and down the small of my back.

"I will not force myself on you," he assures.

I gulp, and he retracts his hand.

He's lying on his back now, his brawny arm pressed against mine and heating me better than the blankets. He's so wide that I know he's not fully on the bed. One of his legs must be hanging out.

We're both stare at the ceiling. Out of habit, I look for holes that need patching but find none.

"How was your day?"

"Fine. Thank you."

"That is good," he replies. There's a stretch of silence before he adds, "you smell good."

I blink.

"I am not sure what to filter," he continues. "I am a direct male, but not I'm not sure If I should voice my unfruitful observations."

Oh, I know this. Zolanos say what's on their mind without consideration of feelings— especially soldiers.

"I enjoy your scent, your face, and the very arm that is pressing against mine. Masters only need females for sex, but there is a drive in me that wants something I cannot identify. I enjoy when you smile with your teeth. That is an odd feature to appreciate since flashing teeth can be associated with a threat. I will visit The Healer regarding this tomorrow. Perhaps my mental health is declining."

Did this man just confess a crush on me and confuse it as a metal condition?

I chuckle, and that's when I realize my shoulders relaxed. It's shocking, because I'm usually stiffer than ice around him.

"General, have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"Yes. I have had many female friends. There are plenty of great female warriors."

I'll take that as a no.

I stare at the darkness and listen to the silence. The General clearly has a storm within him, one that rages more violently than usual because he shifts left and right, seemingly uncomfortable.

Biting my tongue, I dare to lie on my side to give him more space on the bed. My back is facing him now. I hear a groan, and I wonder if I've hurt him. Right as I'm about to turn and ask him, I feel his groin pressing against my backside.

"I told you," he breathes against my neck. "If you lie beside me, sleep will be the last thing on my mind."

Both cocks are erect, tenting his pants.

I squeeze my thighs and eyes shut. My feelings are too confusing to thread through.

Other than pressing against me, he doesn't move his pelvis and keeps his hand to himself.

The most intimate part of him is nestled against me. Would he be angry if I pushed him away? Why don't I?

– • -

I jerk awake, not sure when I fell asleep in the first place. I had been playing dead all night.

It's morning now, and The General is still in bed with me. Usually, he's an early riser. One of his scarred arms found their way around me, and its blunt weight is restricting my breathing.

"Um... General." I touch his elbow.

"Good day, Joan," he grumbles.

That's when I notice his groin is still rock hard. How is that even possible? It has been hours!

"Could you lift your arm, please? I'm having trouble breathing."

He lifts it instantly. "I apologize. I forget how delicate your kind is."

Silence gnaws as we both remember the last time he didn't realize he had to be gentle with me.

He sits up, and I peek at his broad back.

"I will get going."

He rummages through his tent, throws water on his face, pulls a shirt on, and ties his boots.

Yippy wakes up and hops around him while The General ignores him. When he leaves, I pick up Yippy and look around. The day hasn't begun yet and I'm already bored.

My eyes lock on the table. There's fresh paper and ink there. While I haven't visited Malik from fear of getting him in trouble, I think I can at least write to him in secret.

I take a fresh sheet and write to him. I tell him I miss his company and that I'll work on seeing him soon. I throw a little joke about hoping he's not still stabbing his fingers with the needle. He probably won't understand it, but it amuses me.

After putting everything back in place, I fold the letter and clutch it tightly at my side. My only thought as I walk outside is that I hope I don't find The General. He'll probably think I'm up to no good.

I search for Malik. It's hard crossing so many Masters and being unable to look at their face.

An entertainer stops in front of me. "What is that in your fist?"

I went about three minutes without finding trouble — a record.

"It's just paper."

"That is the kind that The General uses. I've seen it when I drop off your meals on his desk."

I know how bad this looks. She's suspecting I stole an important document. Espionage is a crime punishable by death;

"I just borrowed some paper to write a letter. I didn't steal anything."

She snatches my wrist and pulls. I slip on the mud and go down. A body slams into me, and I land on top of them.

I peek one eye open. Of course it's The General.

"Gen-General, she's a spy. I had to... I had to check," the Entertainer blabbers.

His eyes narrow. "Is she, now?" he looks at the letter I'm clutching and sits up so I slide onto his lap. "Give me the letter, Joan."