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“Do you need help?”
Wan didn’t hear the voice so much as feel it, loud and echoing, in his entire body. He had curled up in the shadows of a tree and some bushes, let Mula stand watch as the heat overtook him. And now Raava was creeping toward him – if a spirit like her could really “creep” – floating in front of him in streams of light.
“Whatever you have in mind couldn’t hurt,” Wan said, straining to smile, doing his best to sound cheerful.
In the years since he’d ventured into the Spirit Wilds, Wan had convinced himself that the heats were getting easier to handle, that he had learned not to need anyone. At least Wan knew he was better equipped to deal with it than most. In the days when he lived in the Fire Lion Turtle’s city he had been the only male Yin, and he grew up learning to be swift when others were strong, clever when they underestimated him. Jaya helped him out when the hunger overtook him, but in the Spirit Wilds Wan learned to live without. In fact, for many months he hadn’t even gone into heat.
(“Survival is the root chakra, then pleasure,” Raava had once said, even though so much more was at stake now.)
These days, however, Wan wasn’t sure if he’d learned anything at all.
Raava moved closer to him, and Wan groaned a bit as her tentacles wrapped around his arms and legs, stripped him of his clothes. No matter what they looked like, spirits never quite felt like humans, or even animals. There was no warmth and flesh and bone, but a sort of tingling that made your nerves sing. At times they could feel solid, but the solidity always felt temporary. Pull or push the wrong way and the spirit could easily be dispersed, fade away to where you could no longer sense them at all.
(“No spirit and human have ever done this,” Raava had said.
“First time for everything,” Wan said with a wink.
“This is not your first time,” was all Raava had said, and despite the scolding Wan felt strangely proud.)
Wan felt Raava lifting him up. A strong thick tentacle – weaker now, but one that had once held the Spirit of Darkness – wrapped around the trunk of the tree and his torso, holding him there. Other streams of light tied his wrists together and pinned them above his head, circled his thighs and spread him apart. A flush warmed Wan’s cheeks despite himself. He was painfully aware of how he must look, his penis stiff and his anus wet and open. Raava had done so much to make him stronger, more powerful, but at times like this he felt very vulnerable, very small.
Raava grew more tentacles, let them roam over his body. They rubbed along his nipples, his stomach. One edged toward his mouth and Wan opened it, licked along the vibrating stream of light as it ventured inside him.
“Your human body wants to reproduce,” Raava said. “But no child will ever come from this union.”
Wan moaned and arched his head back against the tree. “That … that really doesn’t matter right now.”
“Humans don’t mate like this,” Raava went on. “And yet this fulfills you.”
“I’m not like ordinary humans.”
But how could Wan truly describe how it felt to be with Raava? She didn’t feel like a Yang, didn’t smell like a Yang, and yet she was more Yang than Jaya or the Chu brothers or any of the men he had known in the Fire Lion Turtle’s city. She was light and strength and protection. She was the very essence of everything he craved.
(“But why is the Yang spirit a woman?” Wan had once asked her on their journey to find the ocean.
“I am not a woman,” Raava spat. “Nor are you, and yet you are a Yin.”
“But I’d always been told …”
“You self-centered humans! You take a truth that has existed since the dawn of time, apply it to yourselves and filter it through your petty concerns. Dark exists in light. Male exists in female. The world is much more complex than you know, than you can ever understand.”)
Raava had grown more tentacles. Wan’s moaned without stopping as he felt them wrap around his phallus, massage his balls.
But she always used her tail to penetrate him. She was gentle at first as she wormed between his cheeks, aware of her power. Raava moved inside him slowly, stretching him wider and wider.
Wan couldn’t help but squirm, even though it was useless. Raava had him by every limb, had opened every part of him, had found every spot on him that was sensitive with those moving, vibrating tentacles that made him want to scream.
“You … you’re so deep inside me,” Wan moaned.
“Shall I go deeper?” Raava asked.
Wan nodded quickly. A tentacle wrapped around his neck, crept up toward the edge of his mouth. The tail had grown so thick it was hurting him a bit, but the tip was massaging a spot inside him, something that made his balls tremble.
“I need a release.” Wan strained against his bonds, groaned as Raava tightened her grip on him in response. “Please Raava, please help me.”
Her tail turned around itself inside him, bunching up low in his bowels. It felt so thick, so right and perfect. Wan’s entire body shuddered. Humans were never meant to feel pleasure like this, he was sure. He was thrashing now. Some of Raava’s smaller tentacles slipped, having trouble holding him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, when his climax shook him to the core, he started to scream.
“So much for so little,” Raava said as she let Wan down from the tree, gingerly placed him on the ground. Yet Wan thought he could sense something like affection in her reverberating voice.
“Not to me,” Wan edged closer to Raava. The sloping, angular body never quite felt right in his arms but he kissed her diamond, ran his fingers along the lines of her blue markings.
“I don’t understand your need for touch,” Raava said. “By your narrow human mindset the last being I felt so intimately I fought with for a thousand years.”
And yet she laid beside him that night until his heat rose again, a bright appendage holding him close to her, running through his hair.
It wasn’t their first time and it wasn’t their last, at least not until they joined forever. Wan never went into heat after that, which Raava regretted at times but Wan figured he didn’t need to anymore. He had found the only Yang who mattered. And, despite what Raava had said, after Wan died their union ended up producing many children: strong and bold, their bright eyes shining through the centuries.