His horn sparks were making his horns glow at the tips, turning them bright red with the heat of it. Gritting his teeth, he growled, eyes squinting. That couldn’t be pleasant.
“Is there something we should be doing?!” I shouted back.
“Bollocks if I know!” His kilt flapped, whipping up until it was stuck between us, exposing his person.
“We’re going to die if we keep falling!” I felt the need to point out. Faster and faster, farther, we picked up speed.
I didn’t want to go out like this. Not like this.
His hands, holding me tight, his elbows out in the tight space, were bloody and raw from scraping the walls.
“Hold me. I’m turning,” I called out suddenly.
“What?! Ye mad, woman, I- We’re fuckin’ fallin’!”
Dropping my legs between his curled, thick thighs, I wiggled until I could face him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. My legs were next, fitting around his. The new position had my arms scraping the tunnel along with his, offering him enough space to tuck his in if he so wished. Heat scalded as my shirt gave way, leaving holes so my vulnerable flesh was bared, burning the thicker patches of skin until I wondered if I’d see bone. I didn’t care. If this was to be it, I wanted to go looking into my pair bond, my lover, mate, husband’s eyes.
“I’m going to be a little premature here, and go ahead and tell you I love you, seein’ as we might not come to a time when we can admit it after the appropriate amount of, ah, days, weeks, months, post marital courting has passed, and I’m going to kiss you, and then you’re going to butt or buss heads or whatever qualifies for the Tauran equivalent of a wild, desperate kiss, yes?”
My bull man gave me a stunned look but nodded, his horns scraping harder as his head dipped, sending stinging sparks raining down on our heads. We both winced.
Leaning in close, I slanted my mouth, contemplating how I was going to do this, and then just went for broke. Our lips met in a wet mash. It was untrained and sloppy, his mouth frozen, at odds with mine as it moved over his.
I’m kissing a bull’s face, I thought, fighting the urge to let my face scrunch up and pull back. But this was my Tauran, not some domestic animal. This was my pair bond. He’s a beast, yes, but also a man, my man. What could be unnatural of that?
Closing my eyes, ignoring the steam starting to waft towards my face, my tongue slipped free, teasing along his stiff lips once they parted.
My Tauran, clearly surprised, grunted, swallowing, his mouth opening up to mine as I led the dance. His tongue was rough, thick, he held still, back stiff, fingers gripping my back. His hands were the only indication he enjoyed what we were doing, those thick digits tightening until they dug into my skin through my shirt.
A long moment passed before I finally pulled back. “Okay,” I said, opening my eyes, “now it’s your-” My words died on my lips. The stone well drop was lit up, strange gold and silver markings lighting up the walls.
More importantly, at some unknown point, despite the wind still whipping passed us, we’d stopped falling.
“What in the-”
“Runes,” my male murmured, his gaze going from one piece of odd swirls and scribbles, strange markings that held no meaning to me, to the next.
“Do you know what they say?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. Horny, thievin’ bastards. Anything to get the jollies off.” Eyes glowing red, nostrils steaming like a hot kettle, he smiled in relief. “Hold onto me tight. Don’t let go,” he said at once, his hands going from my back to the band of my pants.
“Jollies? I don’t- But- What are you-”
“What we’ve both been dying to do since we got dusted by forest fungi.” Loosening the rope I used as a belt, he slid my pants down my ass, exposing my bum, then farther, until my pants were stuck at my thighs, my legs still draped about his waist.
Thick arms slipped beneath my legs and he lifted them, forcing them up, until I was sandwiched, ass hanging out there. It was a tight fit, and he was lucky I was even remotely flexible, my hands encircling his nape, legs pinched together, along either side of his shoulders, trapped as they were.
Thick hands lifted me up to slowly settle me down, and that’s when I felt it.
My eyes widened before narrowing, eyebrows lifting. “I take it you liked my kissing?”
He groaned as he found my pussy hole, his cock head slowly breaching my channel. “That little, adventurous tongue, vacha. Thinking of all the things I’d like you to do with it.”
“Oh?” I was trying for flirty and airy, attempting to lighten the mood, pretending we weren’t suspended midair, playing find the wet hole to break realms, his monster cock stuffing me full.
If by dusting or other means, like my awkward, clumsy attempt at kissing my beast, I was wet and ready. He was thick and hard, his hips working to gain entry. It was tight like this, and I couldn’t move as much as I’d have liked, but two thrusts in and he was ramming a sweet spot inside me that had my hands tightening, a moan slipping from my lips.
“More,” I muttered, trying to pump myself on him, growling, groaning in frustration when I was thwarted by my own fucking pants.
“Impatient,” he murmured huskily, a smile in his voice. “Admit it, my little bonded, you like my cock.”
Biting at my lip, groaning, eyes squeezed shut tight, trying to chase that wonderful feeling building inside of me, I cracked an eyelid open to glare at the smug male slowly fucking me.
“If I declare my undying, unending love for your rod will you fuck me proper?”
“Proper?” He choked on a laugh. “Aye, and this is to be what?” He gave a hard thrust, one that had me clenching up tight around him.
Leaning in, I nipped his chin, smiling when he grunted, jerking, and his fingers dug into my ass cheeks harder. “Like in the cave, at the pedestal.” I nipped his chin again, harder, clamping my inner muscles around his manhood as my teeth gave a harsh, biting nibble.
His answer was a steam producing low of a groan. Bracing his feet on the wall, his ass digging into the stones, kilt lifted, pressed between his chest and my legs, he ground himself into me, until our groins met, then he ground down harder, forcing me to take all of him. Lifting me up a little, strong and capable, he pounded into me as he thrust me down upon him.
Gasping, three pumps of his cock and I cried out, squirming.
“Like that, vacha,” he hissed between gritted teeth.
I never wanted him to stop. “Again.”
Again and again, he fucked me into oblivion.
His body was tightening up right as my release found me, a wave of euphoria washing over me as I found completion. His cock jerked deep inside me then, his cum hot, thick, filling me, spilling out of me to drop below.
The walls seemed to flex suddenly then, those odd runes painting the space brightening. My Minotaur’s feet slipped and we started to fall.
We were still coming down from a joint sexual high, entwined intimately when our decent continued. This time was different. We weren’t whipping down too fast to think, steadily dropping, but buffered.
By the time we’d reached the bottom he’d disengaged his monster penis and I’d managed to wrangle my legs free and drop them between us, gripping my loose pants with one hand, the other grabbing my pair bond, who was holding onto me.
Fluid dripped down my inner thighs and my legs chafed. I was a soppy puddle of sated goo, limbs loose, mind a comfortable, hazy blank.
Stones faded into the walls, replaced with compact, dark soil, then slimy roots, until the roots dried, leaving dark brown, crumbling stumps looping and weaving around us.
Burying my face in my mate’s neck, I closed my eyes, inhaling his unique scent—musk, and man meets animal.
We landed with a jerking thud, almost tumbling as I slipped, sliding down my male’s thick frame, our boots smacking, tripping each other up, limbs entangling.
“So this is it, then?” I asked, glancing around the wild tangle of roots ov
erhead in the dark space, small, dim glowing blue rocks set in a pile off to the side offering a small bit of light.
There was a chill in the air, making me automatically shiver and lean into my beast. Just up ahead a smear of white was visible through an animal hide hanging over what appeared to be an opening, leading to the outside world. A part of me was tempted to seek out more of his world, the other wanting to stay here and hole up with my male, pretend it was just the two of us and no one else. Surely this wasn’t his abode?
“This is a yum-gumme tree, this particular one the oldest in existence. It was said to house the entrance to the realms. Just the single one now,” he corrected, motioning towards other upward leading tunnels and pathways. The rest were all dark, none with the faint glow emanating from it like a million fireflies were having a festival.
“Why do you think they stopped working?” I mused.
“Died off.” He shrugged. “Dunno.”
And the one he’d picked, the only one available, led him to me. Glancing up at him, my lips quirked.
“What do we do?”
“Now.” His hands went to my shoulders, relieving me of my pack, to rub my sore muscles. I shivered again, my hands coming up to scrub my arms. “Now we make shelter for the night, get warm, eat.”
“Warm? Eat?” I perked up instantly, making my pair bond chuckle and smile. His nose went to the top of my head and he breathed into my hair.
“So easily pleased,” his deep voice rumbled. “Mayhap we’ll stay here a while, make our home here,” he glanced around, “with the All-father’s blessing.” Releasing me, he left me staring after him, hovering close to the portal as he picked his way through fat leaves and dead branches, headed to a series of pocket-like crevices lining the wall off to our left. Digging, tossing things this way and that, he unearthed a burlap sack in the farthest pocket type corner,
“The All-father?” I queried, watching him while he worked.
“Tauran worship the All-father. Most do.” Meaning almost but not everyone. Did he? He’d just mentioned him. I wanted to ask but held back, much as I sensed he was. This was all new, so very new, we both needed time.
“And those that don’t?” I asked instead.
“Don’t have anything to be thankful for,” he said with a quirk of his lips that had mine lifting in return.
There was the male I found myself gravitating towards, gruff at times and charming when he wants to be, the grumbling arsehole of earlier, thankfully, absent.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Up there? You just climbed?” The upward abyss glowed warmly, almost invitingly. You know, if a bottomless pit looking hole with human and Minotaur bones, sacred rocks, whatever they were, and sparkling fae dust powder lining it, leading up from packed soil and yum-gumme tree roots could be considered inviting.
“Yes.” Deep, resolute, unyielding, succinct, that single word, muttered with such impatience, so much conviction, made me want to strangle him, wonderful orgasm tingles still warming my thick frame from his monster Minotaur manhood, or not.
Was the brute always so blasted moody? One moment I wanted to smother him to shut him up, the next he’d say something completely alarming, charming, off putting, and then I found myself wanting to smother the abominable being with affection. Grrr!
Or maybe I’m the one who’s lost their marbles, I mused, having a think on that. If so, being crazy is hard, damn it!
“Climb?” I asked pointedly, with emphasis, trying to shake my odd thoughts and go back to our conversation.
Sighing heavily, pausing as he rummaged through yet another wall pocket cleverly disguised within the shelter of the gutted tree, pulling more glowing rocks, a bundle of sticks, a bag within a bag, the smaller bag stuffed with bits of rolled up dried meat and berries folded into bits of thick material. He even pulled a sack with a blanket free, a sloppily woven, tapestry style looking, thick one that appeared to be a little worse for wear but warm.
“Climb.” He mimed the action with his hands, his thick nails pulling away from his skin, sort of like a cat’s claws, when he held his fingers up just so.
Shuffling towards the lip of the gateway between worlds, I peered up at it, eyeing the swirling smoke surrounding the blue light above. Shaking my head, I stood back. “I could never do that.” Didn’t honestly intend to try, seeing as I had no intention of going back, ever. Taking in our surroundings, it wasn’t so bad, and I had what I needed.
The inside of the tree was a mishmash of darks and lights, dark, flaky but thick, chunky, reddish brown bark covered roots competing with smooth, faintly green dotted white ones, similar to the Yamma trees of my world, realm, whatever I was to call it, yet another reminder this world was mine now. The ground was hard and compact, either by nature itself or Tauran design.
Abandoned hunting hideaway, this place said to me, with the grooved pockets that were unlike the other side of the wide space, twining roots spiraling up the wall in a counterclockwise manner, the area with pocket’s dividing walls the color of dried peppercorns, too uniform in their construction, too smooth and straight, unnatural. There were bits here and there that could have at one point been baskets, maybe, hunks of furry looking pieces, possibly tanned hide from animals, clumped in one corner. Bugs and what not had long gotten to them, crumbling remnants all that remained. A small bit of smooth material of some kind hung along the top of half of the storage pockets, the best piece I’d yet to spy, clinging to the edges stubbornly.
My eyes landed on my surly Minotaur and my insides gave a little yip. He was working hard, trying to hurry without missing anything. Methodical, headstrong, there whether he was hot or cold—emotionally and physically. He’d, we’d, stick this out, figure it all out. One day at a time, one musty, gutted tree at a time.
Again my gaze went to him. He was surly, ornery, just plain grumpy half the time, but he could be generous, kind, softening when he wanted to. I liked him. More than liked him. “This is... cozy,” I said slowly, eyeing the spiraling ceiling that seemed to go on forever and a day dazedly.
My mate chuffed, the sound a far cry from his softening of earlier. Ah, back to the grump, I see. No matter. Dusting my hands off, I shrugged. This grump was to be mine. Whether he felt like talking to me sweetly or biting my head off. Foolish male.
“Might I help you?”
My question was met with a sour look. I let it go, busying myself scouting my surroundings, keeping away from any dark corners.
An hour or so must’ve passed before I tired of trying to be the good natured one. He was definitely much surlier now than before, offering grumpy looks and short, single word answers, but it had been a tiresome trip, there was still so much to do, and the stubborn fool wouldn’t let me lift a finger.
“You could do it,” he muttered, adding, “if you had to.”
“What? Help? I know. I offered but someone refuses. Go a lot faster, if you ask me.” I looked up from the bit of fur in my hand, dropping it with a grimace as it disintegrated in between my fingers.
A rumbling grumble followed a grunt. “The climb, I mean. You could do it, if you had to.”
Hah! Oh, he was funny. “Do I look like a cat to you?” My hands lifted, fingers wiggling, piddly excuses for nails, bitten and or cracked and broken down past the quick on display. “And why would I need to?” I shot back. “I’m with you, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to get rid of me so fast. We’re bonded,” I reminded with a sniff.
My Minotaur stilled, his head whipping up, whatever he held in his hands limp in his loose grip, tumbling from his fingers in his surprise.
“Well, you’re not,” I muttered, pretending interest in the cuffs of my shirt as I cleared my throat, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. When he stood there in silence I cleared my throat again, louder, biting out, “Now are you going to let me help you rummage through your junk so we can get this all going, or what?”
“What,” he quipped, red swirling maroon eyes alight.
Ch
uffing, I was getting huffy, not even the look of pleased surprise that popped across my mate’s face enough to pull me from it.
Marching over to him, I thrust my hands out. Lips pulling back into a wide, teeth baring, mockery of a smile, my fingers wiggled in his direction. “Well?” I huffed and puffed impatiently.
“Of course, my queen,” he intoned formally, going so far as to bow.
Oooo! Oh! Why, I- Picking up a stick from the ground, I reached around, lifting the back of his man-skirt enough to whack his tight little rump with it, smirking when he yelped, jerking straight up, to glare down at me.
Smiling sweetly, I held the stick aloft. “Motivation? Now a- Whoop!”
“Motivation,” he muttered, mocking my sickly sweet tone. Yanking the stick from my hands, he jerked me towards him. Expecting a swat to my rump, wholly deserved and well worth the trouble, I was shocked down to my stockings when he snorted, chuckling softly, tugging me close, snuggling me to his broad chest, to press his snout to my hair. He snuffled there, inhaling deeply, as if to take a piece of me into himself.
“Tired of me yet?” he murmured, his cheek brushing across my forehead.
“No. Lord Surly.” My face nuzzled his chest, placing a quick kiss to the bald patch from the sap incident. He was always so warm and his embraces calming, inviting. I felt safe with him. Reaching around, I gave his bum a gentle squeeze, entreating, “Now hug me harder, peasant.”
His laughed boomed, echoing across the space. His hand came up, brushing my hair from my face when I grinned and looked up at him. Gently, so gently I wondered if he was going to abort the idea all together, he placed a chaste, close-lipped peck of his mouth to my forehead, a steady stream of warm air brushing across my face right after.
“That was nice,” I admitted.
“Vacha,” he murmured, cupping my face to bend closer and nuzzle either side of my face with his in an affectionate display, “if this journey doesn’t call me to the All-father’s arms, I fear you’ll be my undoing.”
By the Horns Page 16