Chapter 162: 134 – Poko and Nasha bond a bit.

We left the valley over which Paarjo floated a few hours after departure, and entered the thick forests.

The path was some thirty meters wide and lined with vegetation on both sides.

The group moved with leisure, and conversation bounced between us.

Hanna, our newest member, was riding an Untu. The Ork looked was looking to the sides and back every few minutes, probably to check if we were followed.

I shrugged and took a more comfortable position, leaning my back on Sonya's neck and my hands behind my head.

Pokora gave me a glance and chuckled.

“It's a long trip,” I justified my behavior and closed my eyes.

“True,” she muttered and returned to her conversation with Yolin next to her.

The sound of the wind rustling the trees was comfortable, and the wet sounds coming from the muddy ground as the mounts stepped on it was relaxing.

I decided to sunbathe and changed my clothes to a two piece swimsuit.

It was a lazy day so far, so I took the opportunity to be lazy as well. Naturally, I did my best to not fall asleep even though it was super cozy.

Night came and we made a small camp to spend the night.

“I'll keep watch,” I announced after dinner.

No complaints were cast, and the rest went inside their tents.

Pokora, however, stayed with me. She took her chair and brought it next to me, then sat down. “This climate is too humid,” she complained and sighed.

“Is it?” I inquired, looking at her.

Her dull silver eyes met mine and she nodded. “It's drier back home,” she supplied. “Usually under fifty percent.”

I slowly nodded. “Haven't noticed that, to be honest,” I pointed out.

“You don't get all sticky?” Pokora probed, raising her eyebrows.

“Nope,” I replied with a shake of my head. “You do?”

“My underwear feels like second skin,” she overshared with an annoyed huff. “Feels tropical around here.”

“Want a swimsuit?” I offered, gesturing at myself and the two piece I was still wearing. “I have lots.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled. “Is this your strategy to see me nakey?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Strategy to see you nakey?” I repeated. “How horny are you?”

Pokora bit her lips and smiled. “A lot, actually,” she replied, blushing. “This is so embarrassing, but whatever. I need to talk about this.” She turned to me and looked me in the eye. “I dream of Yolin fucking me.”

My eyes widened a little, and my eyebrows climbed my forehead.

“And it's not just her,” she continued, her face turning redder. “It's you, Lapia, Alyssa, Elena, Thelea, Bromisnar, Bonte, Hanna, the fucking King...” she sighed and shook her head. “It's like... if they breathe, I'd breed.”

“Damn,” I muttered, a little concerned.

“Yeah,” she let out along sigh and looked away. “It's... not even funny how everything anyone does is somehow sensual...”

I nodded in understanding.

“A part of me feels a little guilty with all the sexualization of others and shit,” she continued, running her hands through her hair. “But a bigger, much bigger part of me finds it fucking thrilling. Almost like a drug I can't get enough of.”

“Fucking hell,” I sighed and looked down at me. “Would you be more comfortable if I wore a shirt?”

She chuckled. “Honestly? I'd feel guilty because the entire fucking point is to not make others uncomfortable...” she sighed and hesitated for a second. “And if you put a shirt on, it'd be... disappointing in a weird way. And that makes me feel like a degenerate.”

“Well... don't,” I said with a shrug. “I don't mind, you can look all you want, Pokora.”

She looked at me and squinted her eyes. “For real?”

“We're both adults,” I pointed out.

Pokora closed her eyes and leaned back on the chair. “I just... got this intrusive thought of hoping for something...” she groaned.

“Something sexual?” I asked for clarification.

She nodded, not opening her eyes.

“I see,” I muttered with a nod. “Wanna change subjects?”

“Please,” she whispered.

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I looked around the little camp we set up while I thought of something.

The tents were ten meters away from us, and the conversation had been mostly on the quiet side.

My glow illuminated the space, aided by a flame Lapia had set on the ground. A pot floated above it, somehow not affected by the heat due to the Elf's control of the element.

It was easy to understand for the most part.

The woman struggling to deal with her hormones had produced the chairs we used. They were the kind that folded, basically fabric and metal sticks.

Elena had taken control over the insects around the camp, staying a good distance away.

Our mounts were chilling behind me and Pokora, and some were sleeping already.

“I was allergic to makeup,” I chose a subject.

Pokora looked at me and arched an eyebrow.

“My dad bought me one of those kits when I was 15,” I chuckled at the memory. “You know, the ones with the brush thing and the circles with powdery shit?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I remember those.”

“I put some on and went out with my boyfriend at the time,” I retold. “He was surprised and complimented me. We went to watch a movie that day, and when the credits rolled we kissed.” I shook my head and sighed. “My lips and cheeks had gotten all fucked up. He panicked and called my dad, who thought he had hit me.”

Pokora's eyes widened. “No way...”

I nodded. “It was a shitshow,” I chuckled. “My dad grew up during the Soviet Union, and... well... he wasn't someone you'd want to fuck with. But he listened to me and calmed down. He scheduled an appointment with some doctor and I was told I was allergic to the stuff that made makeup non-allergic or some shit...” I sighed. “I don't know the name in English.”

“Hypoallergenic,” Pokora supplied. “That's... ironic.”

I nodded. “Yep. 'Safer' makeup was made later but I had lost interest by then,” I recalled. “So I never used it.”

“You didn't miss much,” Pokora commented. “That just clogged your pores and dried your skin unless you got the good stuff that was stupidly expensive.”

“True,” I chuckled. “I had girlfriends that wore, though. I couldn't kiss them when they did, so that made me dislike makeup even more.”

“That's understandable,” she agreed, then thought for a while.

I waited for her to change the subject, looking around the camp.

“I don't mean to be rude and all,” she started, giving me an apologetic look. “But you mentioned the Soviet Union and I was wondering...was it as bad as people said it was?”

I smiled and nodded. “My grandfather, my dad's dad, was born in a gulag,” I told her.

Pokora bit her lips and the blush on her face vanished in an instant. “Natasha.. I didn't mean to...”

“It's okay,” I waved it away. “I'm an adult, and honestly don't care about that anymore.”

She nodded, but her face said she wanted to ask about it.

“You see,” I started with a sigh. “My grandfather's father was a shoemaker who got in trouble with an officer. Someone broke into his store and stole the officer's shoes, so the officer took it out on him and said he had western propaganda in his store. And off he went, along with his pregnant wife and eleven year old daughter. My grandfather was taken away shortly after being born and sent to an orphanage. He then met the wrong people and ended up working for a...” I squinted my eyes trying to remember. “It's like a gangster, but not quite,” I explained.

“Like a gopnik?” Pokora asked with an odd spark in her eyes.

“No,” I replied with a shake of my head. “More organized, but less than an OPG. Anyway, he met my grandmother a few years into his... activities, and popped my dad into the world. Being the son of a gulag-born criminal wasn't ideal for anyone, and well... you can imagine it wasn't a fun childhood. He had to become a tough man from an early age.”

“Damn,” Pokora muttered.

“My grandfather's sister was sent to a different orphanage, where she ended up becoming a ballet dancer,” I sighed. “Her parents died before she could reunite with them, and she met my grandfather in 1995, almost sixty years later.” I nodded and shrugged. “So, yeah... the Soviet Union was pretty shit.”

The Elf nodded. “Is that why you're so jaded?” She probed.

I tilted my head in confusion. “Jaded?”

“Pessimistic,” she clarified.

“A bit, yeah,” I replied. “That, plus a lot of other shit. I think I got a bit of my dad's temper in me, be it good or bad. He wasn't the most emotionally available man in the world for understandable reasons.”

“What about your mom?” She tentatively probed. “You haven't mentioned her.”

I chuckled. “That's a whole different story,” I sighed. “But enough with the pity party. Are you still horny?”

Pokora facepalmed and sighed. “Really?!”

“Just wondering if I got you to calm down,” I explained.

“Well, yeah...” she sighed again. “A bit difficult to stay horny after that story.”

“I'm glad it helped,” I joked and chuckled.

And so, we spend the rest of the night chatting about less serious topics.

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