Come From Way Above [Feral Predator&Naru]

Love You [Pt.2]

Naru nods, psyching herself up as she grabs up the needle gun and just goes for it. She presses the gun gently to his thigh before pressing the little trigger.

The moment she sees the liquid disappear from the vial and into his body, Naru is then thrown back without warning as his upper body shoots upright. He lets out an almighty roar as she goes smacking into the nearest tree, and then, sees nothing but black as the darkness of unconsciousness creeps into her head.

...

He is still alive. In fact, he’s never felt more alive. His eyes are wide and he’s heaving both his victory and confusion as he glances around. His vision is still fuzzy for a moment, and when he glances down to see the needle gun sticking out of his thigh, his visions instantly clears, and thoughts along with it.

He’s now panicking slightly as his eyes dart around to find his little dhi’ke-de. She must have saved him. She must have found his medicomp and—

“NO!” Bo roars when his eyes finally land on her limp form.

She’s under the very tree he’d pressed her against and—Bo rips the needle gun from his leg and tosses it aside. He shoves himself up onto his feet and stalks over to her. He sniffs the air around her, and is also relieved to hear her pulse is still strong. He scoops her carefully up with one arm, finally reaches for his mask with his other hand.

He puts the mask on, lays her head across his chest before taking a moment to scan her vitals. He’s happy things are all still normal, that she’s simply unconscious. But he lets out a bitter snarl at himself when he glances around and realises that he is the one who knocked her out.

He feels fine enough, even though he is still bleeding out. He slides her limp form over his shoulder, nudging at the swollen bruise that he can smell across the bottom half of her ribs. His glare snaps over to the Elite’s head.

He gathers his supplies and weapons, uses his little dhi’ke-de’s spear to pick up the Elite’s head along the way before making his way back to his ship.

.

It takes a couple of hours, but when he finally reaches his ship, he doesn’t waste time in finally tending to his wounds.

For now, despite his carelessness, his little dhi’ke-de is fine. At least, better off than he is.

He sets her down on his bed, covers her with his furs before sitting himself down on his reading chair. He lets out a low groan at the pain still throbbing in his gut, and at the bloody stumped ends of the few tendrils he’s lost. They will grow back of course, in time, but right now, it pauking hurts!

He doesn’t usually care about pain. Can take more than even most Elite hish-qu-tens. It’s what he is so infamous among his people for. Why they chose him to be their champion from such a young age. He has even delighted in pain, using it as motivation to press himself harder, maybe even got off on it when the females of his kind would beat him into submission before having their way with him (the harder he let them, the harder they’d later allow him to return the favour.)

But not even the idiot Elders could have warned him what losing tendrils could feel like?

(What are they even for? They’re basically just a bunch of know-it-all glorified Elites in retirement.)

It feels worse than losing an arm...again.

(He huffs out a quiet chuckle as his mind flashes back to the moment his little dhi’ke-de sliced his sword arm clean off with his own comb blade.)

It almost feels like he has lost a part of his cock somehow.

(Thankfully, he doesn’t know what that feels like.)