The Cave Ch. 03

"You looked like you were winning," she pointed out.

"If you win too much, the games just get harder. You're meant to lose."

I held her hand to guide her back over the rocks, noticing Pratt had moved to the far end of the bed to give us wide berth for Riley's comfort. I showed her where she was supposed to be and she lowered primly down to her knees, folding her arms over her chest as if she was cold. I kneeled, too, instead of crouching like I usually did, the side of my arm brushing against her soft hair. I didn't mind throwing the game for Riley.

Riley glanced apprehensively over to the lone basket of berries several feet in front of us. "Is he going to throw them at us?"

Pratt was standing far to our left, waiting. His arms were crossed, too, nonchalantly leaning a shoulder on the slanted stone wall, staring at me with bright eyes, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Finally, he tipped his head at the berries.

"Oh," I said, startled. I flattened my hands on the bed to hop to my feet. He wanted me to throw them? This was new. I picked up the berries and stood at the edge of the blankets. There were about twenty berries left.

When I looked up, all eyes were on me. This was supposed to be Riley's exercise, but I was the nervous one. After all, most of Riley's success would come from the accuracy of the throw. I selected one of the fattest berries and cradled it in one hand.

Ready? I mouthed.

Her nod was barely perceptible. I took two practice swings and then froze. Glancing at Pratt, I raised my finger at him. He lifted his chin, taking notice of my signal to wait.

I scurried across the bed and got on one knee in front of Riley. Carefully, I brushed her hair back over her shoulders. "Relax," I muttered under my breath. "The trick is not to hesitate."

She waggled her shoulders, the universal sign of relaxing, but she didn't look anymore calm than before. Her now exposed breasts bobbled with her movement.

Back at the edge of the bed, I snuck a look at Pratt, who had his eyes impishly narrowed at me. I got my composure, took two more practice swings and lobbed it up.

Too high. Her eyes followed it until it soared over her head. Thankfully, she already knew what to do after my demonstration. She found the berry in the fur, placed it between her lips and leaned forward on her hands to crawl quickly to me. I cupped my hand to her face and she carefully dropped the berry into my palm.

I looked at Pratt, who nodded expectantly at the berry in my hand. My posture slumped pleadingly, but his expression didn't change. I sighed.

Sorry, I said silently to her and ate the berry, swallowing immediately, taking no enjoyment of it. I shouldn't be made to eat it. It was because of my bad throw she missed it. I started to wonder more seriously who this game was really made for.

As Riley shuffled back on her knees to her place against the wall, my eyes dropped down to her buttocks. Despite how toned they were, they still jiggled minutely and the delicate wisps of blonde between her thighs rattled me. I peered sideways at Pratt, his eyes sparkling as he stared at me. I made a face at him and I wasn't sure why.

I tried to throw as straight as I could. She might have caught one or two if she had loosened up and spread her legs a little, but she was kneeled so prudish, so arrogant. She missed the next six berries before I noticed the tears in her eyes. I wanted to comfort and yet I was touched at her tears, touched she would want to do well for me. She could have stopped, refused to continue, but she kept going.

After three more near misses, when the tears began to drop on her chest, I took a step forward to go to her. Pratt put out a hand to stop me. I don't know why I stayed put and continued to throw berries at her, snapping off the branches of her dignity like she was a dried barberry shrub. I felt like a monster eating her breakfast right in front of her, but I think I knew Pratt would make it up to her somehow. He must have had extra berries somewhere or he planned on giving her some of his dinner shares tonight. But if she knew that, she wouldn't try to get better. His games seemed like torture, but they weren't. Riley just didn't know it yet.

Only several huckleberries remained in the basket. I knew she wasn't going to catch any of them; her eyes were so glossed over with thick emotion, she might as well have been blind. I would have saved time just stuffing them all into my mouth. They were all tiny and probably sour. But I picked one up, flung it up in a high arch.

And she snagged it between her lips.

Stunned, Riley pushed the berry into her mouth with her finger. Her teary eyes found mine and she lit up like a firework.

"Oh my god, I caught one!"

Pratt and I exchanged glances. I don't think either of us could believe it. It was a complete fluke.

Sniffing, she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and laughed.

"Thank Christ," I murmured. I don't know why it was so important for her to get a berry in that moment, but it was. If not for her, then for me. I dropped the basket and fell to my knees in front of her. She threw herself into my arms, her giggles a song in my ear, her body wriggling enthusiastically. And then, still chuckling in her throat, Riley planted a firm, cheerful kiss on my lips.

I recoiled immediately with a stunned gasp.

"Oh!" cried Riley, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her shiny eyes were innocently widened, but I could see her soul through them. Her whole world view outside the cave was shifting before us, turning upside down so she could see everything differently. It was an important, magical moment for her. "I don't know why I—"

I didn't know why, either, but I grabbed her and kissed her back. I could tell I surprised her and when she opened her mouth to inhale, it was natural for my tongue to fall inside to taste her. Her arms circled around my neck and I became aggressively eager. Lowering my arm to the small of her back, I hauled her hips towards me and pushed her down onto the soft pelt bedding, bellies touching. It felt like such a novelty to kiss her, her lips more delicate than any mouth I'd ever kissed. Pratt's Eskimo kisses were intimately sweet, but there was nothing like a deep kiss, urgent and burning. I had missed kissing, exploring a new mouth.

And I think Pratt knew this, among other things, and it occurred to me it wasn't he who was impatient with Riley. It was me. And it wasn't Pratt who was going to fall in love with her, her feistiness, her ability to challenge. That was also me.

Out of the corner of my eye, Pratt approached us, slowly getting down on one knee, and I did something I'd never done before.

I growled at him. Actually snarled.

Riley was mine.

Roughly, he grabbed my chin, lifted it so that I could see his intensely sharp look of warning, to show me he was still in charge. I averted my eyes, not so much to submit to him, but to respectfully apologize. I didn't know what came over me and when he released me, I was too embarrassed by my scolding to look Riley in the eye.

In Pratt's other hand, I saw he was holding the basket, the remaining berries rolling around inside. He reached for one, careful not to pinch it between his powerful fingers. Tensing, Riley couldn't stop herself from whimpering as Pratt placed the dark huckleberry on her body, making sure it was balanced on her breastbone before removing his hand.

I looked at him, waiting for some instruction. His breath had quickened but his expression was stony, authoritative. He nodded down at Riley and I dipped my head to her chest to retrieve the purplish fruit, sucking it into my mouth, lingering to flatten my tongue on her skin. She tasted faintly of salt and sweat. She whined again, salaciously.

Pratt placed another berry on the bottom ridge of her ribs and I had to scoop it up quickly with my lips to keep it from rolling into the valley of her flat stomach. The third he inserted into the shallow crater of her belly button and I had to scuttle backwards on my knees to reach it. She was writhing from the rise and fall of her hurried breaths, her eyes half shut as she watched me.

I picked up the huckleberry with my teeth and inhaled it into my mouth. Swallowing it down rapidly, I poked my tongue back into her belly button until she groaned.

She had been in the cave now for 9 days. The bottoms of her feet were filthy and her hair was heavy with oil, but the only odor she exuded was the enchanting potency between her legs. Her lean thighs were unable to hide the clear shine smeared there and I hoped that was where the last berry would end up.

Pratt flicked his wrist, tossing it, and it caught the fair tangles of her pubic hair.

I kept my eyes on Riley as I lowered my head. Her head came up off the bed to watch me incredulously over the small hills of her breasts. I felt her muscles tense up and her ragged breath completely ceased. I pressed my mouth into her soggy nest, finding the hard nub of fruit, extracting it with care from the fine hairs. It was a delicious mix of sweet, salty and sour. Chewing slowly near her sex, I was reluctant to move away and yet still too timid to nudge closer.

Although I could have imagined it, I thought I felt her legs open, almost indiscernibly. It was apparently all the consent I needed. I licked her tentatively, pushing her taste experimentally around in my mouth, and when her legs fell open wider I dove back.

Overwhelmed, my tongue slathered around erratically at first. I drew away to catch my breath and rest my tongue, brushing back her golden wreath of pubic hair to take a more tactical approach. Already her inner thighs were split wide and glistening by firelight. Examining her anatomy, it was hard to tell how alike she was to my own. This was an angle I never saw of myself. I slid two fingers through her bloated creases, gently peeling back the fleshy pink folds of her petals to expose the smooth gristle of her clitoris. Flattening my tongue, I lapped deliberately at her sex, slowly, pacing myself, listening to her breathing for cues.

I was distantly aware of Pratt moving around, our bodies eclipsed by his great shadow as he stood somewhere between us and the fire. I heard the hiss of sparks as he tended to it, adding more timber or situating the logs for better circulation, and a surge of heat spread over us. His distance speared me with momentary sadness. Maybe I was just being selfish. I wanted Riley for myself, but I wanted Pratt there, too. Wasn't that how it was supposed to be? The three of us?

I realized I didn't know how it was supposed to be. It had been backwards with Amy; she had seemed repelled by me, so I bonded with Pratt first. Maybe it was different with everyone and Pratt had to change the itinerary to suit every personality combination. And this time, he had to omit himself on account of Riley's anxiety. It was my own fault. Had I not been secretly hoping for this? That they would never get along? And now I wanted them to, only to suit my own needs, so I could be close to both of them.

But wasn't I just playing Pratt's role when it was just Amy and me? Hadn't he wanted Amy and me to be close, if only to serve his own desires? When it didn't work, he had to choose and he chose me.

Please please please, don't make me choose.

I sensed from the tremors in Riley's legs she was getting close. Maybe Pratt knew it, too, from the sounds she was making or the scent she was giving off, because a moment later I felt him behind me, prodding teasingly at my secret parts. He sunk a finger into me to draw out my juices and I moaned against Riley's sex. The hair on his legs tickled the back of my thighs as he positioned himself, rubbing the head of his cock searchingly around the entrance of my vagina.

Peeking over Riley's pubis, I watched the drowsy slits of her eyes as they observed the activities behind me. Immediately, I stiffened my tongue and swirled it directly around her hot button to distract her. Her mouth fell open to moan and her eyes rolled back, pushing her hips up into my face. I felt Pratt's hands squeezing around my waist as he drove into me and froze, lingering inside at my full capacity for several seconds before beginning to slowly thrust.

It was the first time I felt my body used in its entirety, efficiently maximized to its carnal potential. Connected to each other through me, their desire was controlled by the flick of my tongue or the flex of my vaginal walls. It was overwhelming, the focus it took to maintain both of them and for now I centered all my concentration on Riley, fighting her hips to keep her still, my tongue stirring madly around her clitoris. Gasping, her head flew up in a stomach crunch, a gorgeous flush spreading across her face. Her hands scrabbled at the fur blankets.

She was barely complete when I was hauled up, thrown back against Pratt's chest. From behind, he stuck his face into my neck, fitfully sniffing me, his arms circled around my body to keep me upright, ruthlessly jouncing me in his lap. I felt his penetration deep inside me. I was exhausted. My head lolled back against his shoulder, conceding to him, content to just let him find his release, but then I felt that familiar lurch in my belly—

—and a warm mouth closing around my right nipple.

Groaning, I lifted my head with great effort. Riley's hand looked tiny as it clutched my left breast, while her pink lips greedily sucked at the other. I tried to touch her, but my arms were trapped under Pratt's. She released my breast and I saw her shoulder droop down. A moment later, I felt her finger probing uncertainly between my thighs. When she hit the spot of all my passion, the sensitivity of it was almost pain, and I moaned and shuddered, feeling quite helpless to all that was happening.

But it was Pratt who undid me, his hot breath at the back of my ear and hoarse, braying growls marking the height of his pleasure.

I exploded around him, thrashing in his beefy arms. I saw Riley's face nearing mine, her eyes fogged with lust, her lips latching onto mine. Our tongues met, coiling together until I had to stop to catch my breath. My head rolled back, my temple leaning against the angle of Pratt's jaw, and Riley's cheek pressed my chest, her head nestled under my chin. I felt Pratt adjusting his arms. A second later, Riley's warm nakedness pressed completely and without barrier to mine as Pratt hugged the both of us in his long arms.

*

We slept afterward, the three of us, spoons in a drawer. My loins pressed against Riley's lower back, my nose in her silky hair. I felt the rise and fall of Pratt's breathing on my shoulder blades, his hand loose around my breast, the wisps of his body hair ticking my spine, under my knees and the soles of my feet. This was how I woke once, a perfect moment in time, and I remember the sleepy way I smiled to myself, holding back an indulgent stretch so that I didn't disrupt the tranquility of it all.

Because the next time I woke, Riley was ripped out of my arms.

*

It felt that way, although once I got my bearings straight, I realized I was being dragged back, suddenly and without ceremony, to my chains. Riley sat up, holding a gray fur blanket to her chest, her face swollen with sleepy confusion.

"What's happening?" I mumbled. The wall was cool on my back, one arm already locked into place. I squinted up at Pratt's face, but his expression was cold and indecipherable as he secured my second hand. The cuffs settled in their usual ruts in my wrists.

Pratt stood and marched directly to Riley, bending to scoop her over one shoulder. Her screams were immediately hysterical, her tiny fists beating into his lower back as he stalked out.

"No, Pratt, please!" I cried, but I was unsure of what I was begging for. I didn't know what was happening.

They disappeared down the tunnel.

I struggled to my feet, my vision veiled with tears. "Riley!" I screamed.

"Layla!"

"Riley!" I sobbed.

"Layla!" Already she sounded so far away.

"Bring her back, Pratt!" I shouted. "Take me, goddammit, take me! First in, first out, you sonofabitch!"

I paused for a response.

"Riley?"

Nothing.

"RILEY!"

I sunk down to my knees and sobbed. And sobbed.

*

I felt dead inside by the time Pratt returned, without Riley. And without remorse.

He had not been gone long. An hour at the most. He looked tired as he slumped down on the bench by the fire, poking the fire with a stick to revive it. He added a couple small logs and sat staring at it with his back to me.

He wasn't even mourning. Not like he mourned Amy.

It was because he didn't love Riley. He didn't love her and I did. Was that what this was all about? Was Pratt...jealous? I told myself I didn't want to choose between them. So Pratt made the decision for me.

Pratt got to his feet and stretched back his arms. He glanced over his shoulder at me, but his face was in shadow and I couldn't tell what expression he was giving. Scratching a spot on his arm with large black nails, he wandered over, climbed into bed, and crawled across the blankets to me. About halfway over, I noticed the frowning crease between his eyes. Kneeling in front of me, he lifted my chin to look at me, tilting his head in concern.

I could stay angry with him. I could refuse food, water, groomings. And Pratt would keep me chained to wall at night.

Or I could pretend everything was all right, that whatever Pratt did to Riley out of jealousy was completely justified, and her absence meant nothing. And tonight, while Pratt slept, I would be free to escape.

I forced a smile at Pratt. I could see the tension drain out of his eyes and his body visibly relaxed. He brought his face closer and I felt the flank of his nostril nestle against mine, followed by the soft caress of sweet, lazy nose kisses. Smoothing my hair, he gave one of my nipples a sharp tug and flopped on his back with an exhausted groan. Feeling around the bed, he grabbed my foot and propped it up on his chest so that he could absently rub the heel and sole with his thumbs. He turned his head to look at me, his eyes dreamy and content, and I pasted another smile on my face for his benefit. Soon, he began to drift off.

But I couldn't take my eyes off my own foot, the one he was drowsily stroking, and the smears of blood on my skin, left by one of his fingers. I think I wanted to puke.

The worst part was I didn't think he thought he'd done anything wrong.

He didn't sleep long. Twenty minutes, if that. He woke with a jolt, still holding my foot. Sharply inhaling, he gave me a sheepish look. He patted my foot affectionately before setting it back down on the bed. Fifteen seconds later, he was back down the tunnel.

That afternoon, I heard the general sounds of tinkering from within the cave, Pratt padding around, making his furs or his candles or whatever was on the agenda for the day. A few times he returned to the main cave with a candle to look for something in his dark cubicle of shelves and then he was gone again with hardly a glance in my direction. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt my feelings.

Eventually he came to get me water and bring me to the next cavern for a break. I laid my cheek unhappily against his knee as he cleaned me up, detaching myself from my usual enjoyment.

He left to get our dinner at the normal time and returned later, rabbit in hand, smelling fresh of the outdoors and in good spirits from the exhilaration of his kill. I was relieved there were no games tonight and ate my meal quickly. My grooming could not have ended faster and I stared sidelong to the fire while Pratt worked towards his climax.