by Dixon, Ruby
They look the same as they ever did, bright, cheerful flowers waving in a gentle breeze. I love my farm, but for the first time I’m really noticing just how shitty it is compared to Nassakth’s. My fields aren’t straight or flat, but rocky outcroppings that mean that my harvesting bots take three times as long to gather crops. My house is small and looks run-down. Everything just looks…like an afterthought. It makes me unhappy to see the flaws in my little homestead, because I love it. But after being with Nassakth…I’m not entirely content with it.
As if my thoughts summon him, he pokes his head out and nods. “All clear. Go in and get what you need. I’ll work on setting your perimeters so no one can come on your land except the two of us. Is that all right with you?”
“That would be great. I’m not expecting visitors.” I smile at him. “I really appreciate the help.”
He gives me an odd look. “Kim, you are my mate. I am not helping you. I am doing what any mate would do.”
“Right. I know.” I just feel…odd today. Like I’m the one taking and taking in this relationship and he keeps giving and giving, and the inequality of it bothers me. The way I panicked last night bothers me, too. I want to be brave and sexy and strong, and I feel like I’m chickening out. The moment he started to grab me, I panicked.
But I give him a bright smile, and he touches my shoulder as he passes by, heading to the edges of my fields so he can establish a protective shock-fence perimeter. It’s something that’s been on my to-do list except I had no idea how to do it and no money to pay anyone…instead, I’d paid a bounty hunter to kidnap me a husband. I feel like I won the lottery in that regard.
I head inside my house and I’m a little surprised to see the shattered chair still in the middle of my living area, the one that Nassakth splintered when he forgot he was supposed to be pretending to be captive. I think of how tortured he was that night, how his cock strained against the front of his clothing…and yet he never even thought of hurting me. He could have grabbed me so many times that night and forced himself on me, and yet he didn’t.
And here I panicked about a little kiss last night.
Well, a little kiss that led to something more, if I’m honest with myself. I do want more. I just…I don’t know what I need. Maybe I need a hint of the control back in my life. I think Nassakth is wonderful, but I also feel like I’ve given all my power over to him. There has to be some way I can regain that.
I bend down and pick up some of the biggest pieces of wood, intent on cleaning up. As I do, my fingers brush over a bit of metal. My gaze slides to the broken stun-cuffs, the ones he snapped as easily as my chair. They had kept his arms tied behind his back, though, and I had felt as if I was in control when he wore them. It had made me braver.
I study them thoughtfully, and then a plan forms in my mind.
I wonder…I wonder if he’d wear those while I tried kissing him again? And I wonder how long it would take for me to panic then? Or if I’d panic at all?
I flush with heat at the thought of Nassakth lying on the bed next to me, his hands bound, mine to do with as I please, to explore without fear, to touch and taste and—
“Kim?”
I jerk to my feet. “What! What?!”
Nassakth frowns at me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just distracted.” I brush a lock of hair back, my pulse pounding. There’s a curious liquid heat between my thighs I haven’t felt in a long while, and I squeeze them tightly together to compress the feeling. “What’s up?”
“Did you know one of your bots has a faulty card?”
“No?” I move to his side so he can show it to me, but my thoughts are full of stun-cuffs and potential. Tonight, I decide. Maybe tonight I’ll roll the idea past him and see how he responds. The thought fills me with excitement.
33
NASSAKTH
Kim’s perimeter bots are a mess. They’re several software updates out of sync with her host system, and some are so fried from lack of maintenance that they’re useless. I work on them all day long, fussing with components and stealing parts from one broken bot to repair another. In the end, I can’t set up the perimeter I want, so I set the bots on patrol instead. They’ll scan for invaders and ping my datapad. I make a mental note to order an entirely new set of bots for her land, because I won’t have anyone distressing her.
My mate seems to be in a good mood after spending the day at her farm, though. She’s humming and fresh-seeming, her clothing crisp. She’s baked several loaves of something that steam on the counter, and her tiny house is spotless.
Me, my fur itches from sweating in her barn, I’m covered in noli pollen, and I’m irritated that Risda’s government gave her such worthless equipment. “Good afternoon?” I manage as I come inside, even though I want to be grumpy. It is not Kim’s fault, and I will not take it out on her.
“Great afternoon,” Kim says, beaming. “I got so much done, and I packed up my things.” She gestures at a small bag near the door. “I got two chapters in on my book, and I made you some meat pockets.”
“Meat…pockets?”
“I guess it’s a human thing? I wanted to bake some bread but I knew you liked meat with your food so I stuffed the middle with some meat I had in my stores. I hope it’s okay.” She inhales deeply. “It smells like heaven.”
I point at the breather pinching my nose. “I can smell nothing. And I should clean off before I eat.” I dust pollen off my sleeve.
“Oh.” She looks disappointed. “Well, I can wrap them and we can eat later?”
I nod.
We gather Kim’s small amount of possessions and put them on the air-sled, and I’m irked she does not have more than this. She puts the loaves in a thermal wrap to keep them warm and cradles them on her lap as I drive, and I cannot help but notice that this bundle is almost bigger than her bundle of possessions. I should buy Kim more clothing, I think. More trinkets. More everything.
I strip off my clothes in the barn and head into the house naked, not wanting more pollen inside than can be avoided. By the time I clean off, I feel better, my sour mood vanishing like steam. Tonight, we will begin weapon practice. She is probably tired, but some things cannot wait. Then I must be prepared to sleep elsewhere, if she is uncomfortable with my presence in her bed. I will take this as slow as I need to with Kim. There is no rush for anything.
I emerge from the shower and head into the bedroom, only to run into Kim in the closet.
“Oh.” She blushes and averts her gaze from my body. “I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking you were coming in here—I’ll leave—”
“You can stay. I only need fresh clothing.” I rub a towel over my mane, soaking up the water, and move to the far side of the closet. “I cleaned out that half for you.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs, and her tone sounds distracted.
“Is all well?” I ask, rubbing more water out of my mane and then dragging the cloth over my arms and chest. “Are you too tired to train tonight?”
“No, it’s fine.”
When I glance over, she looks away and hurries out of the closet. I glance down at my naked form. There are scars on my torso that cut through my fur, but I am still strong and fit. My thighs are like rocks and my cock hangs heavy between my legs. Truly, I see nothing alarming. Perhaps humans are uncomfortable without body coverings. I think of Kim, and how every time I have seen her, she is hiding her body. That must be it.
Well, she will be in for an unusual surprise when we start training.
I leave my tail unbrushed so she will not get the wrong idea, and put on a simple robe. We eat dinner in silence, Kim looking flustered as she picks at the meat pockets. They are good, but I prefer just the meat and force myself to swallow the thick, bready parts that do not sit well in my carnivore stomach because my mate worked so hard on them.
She takes our plates and gives me a smile as she stands up. “Cards tonight?”
I shake my head. “Tonight, we start your tra
ining.”
“Even though you’re tired?”
“Even though,” I agree. “Come. Let us head to my war room.”
Kim murmurs assent, setting the plates down in the kitchen and following me as I head through the house. I enter my war room, select training weapons from the wall, and then touch a panel. The floor shifts, the easy seating disappearing and a thick, springy pad rolling out over the floor. New walls descend from the ceiling, covered with a similar pad so we can practice in a safe environment. Kim watches all of this with awe, her mouth falling open.
“I didn’t know this was here. How much did it cost to set this up?”
I chuckle. “Many things are cheap here.”
“Not enough,” she says, and I know she is thinking of her poor farm.
I feel like a fool for bragging about my wealth. “Come. Let us get started with your training.” I fling my robe off and toss it aside. “Strip.”
“I beg your pardon?” Kim’s strangled voice raises an octave.
“Strip,” I gesture, indicating her clothing. “A true gladiator fights with no clothing for his opponent to use against him. I will teach you how to protect yourself first, and later on, we will add clothing to our practice rounds so you can know how to use it against the enemy.”
“I’m going to be fighting naked?”
“Is that a problem?”
I can tell she wars with the thought for a moment. Her throat works, and then she lifts her chin. “No. No, it’s not.” She puts her fingers to the collar of her tunic and touches the auto-fastener. It zips down her body, and then her clothing falls away. Kim swallows hard and steps out of the fabric, then turns to face me, her body pink and exposed.
And not entirely furless. She has a small patch between her thighs that I did not notice in the human porn vids I watched. I decide I like it, quite a bit. I study her hips, her legs, her arms, and notice she is soft all over. There are no cords of muscle, just more and more softness.
Kim crosses her arms over her breasts. “You’re staring.”
“Merely assessing your muscle tone.” Now that she has her arms over her breasts, I do notice that they are round and soft, with enticing pink tips that harden in the cool air.
She snaps her fingers twice at my face. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have any muscle tone there.”
I laugh, because I am caught. “You are right. Let us begin.”
Kim sucks in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
34
NASSAKTH
Kim trembles as I hand her the sword, still sheathed. She takes it by the pommel and bites her lip.
“Are you scared?”
“No, I’m naked.” Her cheeks turn a fiery pink. “And you are, too. It’s fine. I’ll get over it.”
I grunt. This is something she will need to get used to. “Come here and I will show you the proper way to grip your sword.”
“Well that sounds dirty,” she breathes, but she does as she is told.
I pull her against my chest, her back to my front, and put my hands over hers. “Your grip goes here. Holding your sword in the right spot is the difference between a strong, precise hit, and snapping your own wrist.”
She sucks in a breath, looking down at our hands. Mine is so large against hers that her fingers disappear under my grip, and her small body tucks against mine perfectly. My cock stirs at her nearness—like this, her head nestles perfectly under my chin, her mane tickling and smelling of her. I force myself to focus on the task at hand. “Draw your sword.”
When she does, her grip changes, and I make a sound of frustration. I put the sword back in the sheath again and adjust her hands.
“Draw it again.”
I make her draw it seven times before I am pleased with the way she holds it. “It feels weird,” she complains. “It’s stronger if I hold it the other way.”
“It might be stronger, but one wrong hit and your wrist will break. You will learn to hold it like this. It is not up for discussion.”
“I think I like you better outside this room,” she grumbles, the sound charmingly cranky. But she sheathes the sword and pulls it free in a motion that is not fluid, but her form is correct.
“Good,” I tell her. “In here, I am your battle tutor. I am not your mate, I am just a male here to teach you sword-work.” It is a reminder for me, too, because as she begins to sweat and her arms tremble with exertion, her scent fills the air. I am increasingly aware of the brush of her skin against my fur, the quiver of her bottom when she pulls the sword free, even the way her small hands curl around the grip.
I will most definitely need a cold shower after this.
“I think I’ve got it now,” Kim says softly, sheathing and unsheathing the sword one more time just to show me.
“Then we will move on to the first of lessons.”
“The…first?” She turns to look at me in surprise.
I nod and then put my hands on her hips, maneuvering her form. I show her how to stand, how to position her body so she can put the weight of her strength on the downward swing. These are basic swings, designed for maximum slashing effect and not precision. I am teaching Kim as I would a young boy who has not yet developed the fluff in his tail. I pull out a training bot and turn it on to the lowest setting. It wobbles back and forth, occasionally raising a shield to block, and then I position Kim in front of it. “Use your swing and attack.”
She immediately forgets everything I have shown her and stabs at it, clumsily. I bite back a sigh. She is like every person that is handed a sharp weapon—the moment circumstances change, she goes back to instincts and forgets everything she has learned. I put my hand over hers, reset her grip, position her hips again, and this time keep my hands on her hips to remind her how her stance should not move. “Try again.”
“I…I can’t think when your hands are on me,” she stutters.
I withdraw immediately. “Are you frightened?”
“No.” Kim sounds breathless.
My cock rises in response, and I step away from her. “Keep your hips and feet in place and I will not have to correct you,” I grumble. As she swings again, I focus on my cock going down. I think of unpleasant things…like Kim’s fear of me, the state of Kim’s farm equipment, or more of that awful bread. Her next swing is weak, but precise. “Good,” I say. “Again.” I nod as she connects with the bot. “Again. Again.”
I make Kim practice the same move over and over again, until her entire body is trembling with fatigue and her pink skin is sheened with sweat. She pants, bending over to catch her breath, and flings down the sword. “Mercy, okay? Have mercy.”
I want to point out to her that she has only been practicing for an hour. That most young cubs train for eight hours at a time. That a new gladiator trains until he falls over—and then he is beaten for stopping, because weakness is a flaw that must be expunged. But she is human and has not been equipped for such a life.
And she is my Kim, and I am heart-soft when it comes to her.
I eye her sweaty form appreciatively, spending far too long gazing at her rounded bottom. “Very well, if you are tired, we will call it for today. In the morning, we will practice again.”
She moans, and the sound goes straight to my already-primed cock. It rises almost instantly, and now I cannot think of anything but Kim’s glistening skin, Kim’s plump bottom, Kim’s breathless sounds…
“I am going to go shower,” I announce.
“You? I’m the one that worked up a sweat,” she sputters, and straightens. Kim turns to face me, and then stops. Her gaze slides down to my cock, and then my face. “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.” My tone is far more snappish than it should be. It is not her fault I am distracted. It is not her fault my body does not realize her fear. “I will be fine. You are not in danger. Give me a few moments to compose myself.” I turn and leave the training room as quickly as I can, practically racing for the showers. I will take a cold one, I decide, and if that does not ease the ach
e between my legs, I will put my hands on my cock and solve the problem one way or another.
It is not Kim’s fault I am easily distracted by her.
I will not paw at her, though. No matter how much I want to.
I retreat to the bathroom and turn the water on, but I do not get in just yet. I rake my claws through my mane, frustrated, as I begin to pace. Why is it that everything I do to help Kim somehow makes her more frightened of me? I am filled with despair.
Perhaps this will never work.
There’s a gentle knock at the door. “Nassakth?”
I bite back a groan of frustration, because just hearing her voice makes me want nothing more than to grab my cock and pump it furiously into my fist. “Not right now, Kim.”
“Actually, I think right now might be a good time.” Her tone is meek and soft. “I’m coming in.”
That is all the warning I get before she enters, and when she comes into the bathroom, she has a pair of stun-cuffs in her hand…and nothing else.
She is still naked, her skin flushed from exertion, and she gives me a tiny smile…her gaze straying to my aching, erect cock. “I have a proposal to make.”
35
KIM
Naked, he looks even more imposing than with clothes on. That should be illegal. He should look awkward or odd stripped down to nothing but his birthday suit, and the differences in his body should be off-putting. Instead, he looks powerful and just a little bit savage and it’s making me breathless.
Not that I wasn’t breathless anyhow. It’s not just the training, forcing muscles to work that haven’t done anything that physical in years. It’s his nearness, his nudity, his everything.
I really, really can’t stop staring at his nudity, though.
His cock is completely erect, stabbing into the air, and his hand hovers close to the tip, as if he’s about to take himself in hand. He’s enormous, much larger than any human man I’ve seen in this particular aspect. His cock is also thankfully very normal seeming. Large, yes, but not as alien as it could be. He’s furred thickly at his groin, but that’s expected and doesn’t alarm me. Actually, nothing about him alarms me anymore, I realize with wonder.