by Cebelius
His eyesight immediately became useless. He almost tried to use tremor-sense, then thought better of it. He didn't know if he could use it on his own without Prada inside him, and in any case, here it was better to be blind, to let Mila choose. She did not want him to see her, so he would not look, in any sense.
She guided him, turned him with careful hands, then said simply, "Sit."
He did. His back was to the tree, and he leaned against it. The silence lingered, but eventually he broke it more because he knew he needed to than because he'd found the right thing to say.
"I didn't know it would happen, with the magic. I still have a lot to learn. Now I know it can be done a different way. It won't happen again."
"Prada is responsible. I do not blame you."
Her words still had that unnatural steadiness to them that told him she was focusing too much, and he frowned and shook his head. He had no idea if she could see inside this spell or not, but there was no reason to hide if she could.
"Much as I'd like to shift it, I'll take the blame. I didn't have to follow her suggestion. I should have stuck with the mental exercise she described to you, instead of the one she gave me in my head."
She was silent for a long minute, and Terry was about to get up and move away when she suddenly asked, "When you learned to fight, did you apprentice?"
Not understanding quite where the question came from, Terry played along. "No. Not as you understand it. Skilled fighters open schools where I'm from. You pay them to learn, but we are students, not apprentices."
It was too dark to see her expressions, but he heard her shift, and he got the sense that she was looking at him. He stayed still, and waited.
"I apprenticed to learn what magic I know," she said, and it sounded like an admission, rather than the simple statement that it was. "Do your people ever carry out apprenticeships? Do you know what they entail?"
He blinked and considered the question before answering. "It used to be common practice up until oh ... a hundred years or so ago, but other than the fact that an apprentice usually lived and worked alongside the master, I don't know much about them. No one where I come from really does that anymore. All children go to standardized schools now. They don't choose what they'll do for a living until they're grown."
"Your world is so strange," Mila murmured. "We have so little in common, you and I."
Now vaguely uneasy, he shrugged. "I'm sorry. I never intended to embarrass us like this."
She shifted again. "You feel embarrassed? Why?"
"Sympathy, mostly, but also because I did something I shouldn't have."
"Ah." The word was ripe with meaning Terry couldn't parse. Before he had a chance to say something stupid, she went on.
"I was an apprentice. For many years I studied under my master. While Yuri learned his trade from father, I learned from a mendicant mage. He was a gnoll. Do you know of gnolls?"
He shook his head, but in the darkness he couldn't be sure she could see it so he also simply said, "No."
"Gnolls are in some ways like Shu, but in other ways not. If we see one, I will be sure to point it out to you. They are not uncommon, but gnolls are a lusty breed, and the payment my master took from me was in flesh. I was six years old, the first time. I was twenty, the last. I am untouched since then, and will be twenty-four years old when winter comes."
Terry had nothing to say to her admission. He had no way of empathizing with her, and he had no way of really even knowing how she felt about what she was telling him. Her words sounded empty to him, somehow.
"I cannot say I never enjoyed it," she said after a moment, probably waiting for him to speak and realizing he wouldn't. "But usually I did not. Master Finnen always treated me as a receptacle for his needs, and nothing more. It is best that way, for he was not attached to me, nor I to him. Vlad had him killed, and thus my apprenticeship ended. I took this staff, and none protested. Vlad had no desire for it, and no one else in my village could make use of it."
Again she fell silent, and again Terry waited. He knew now that he should not leave, but he still had no idea what he should say. Eventually, Mila shifted and again he got the impression that he was being examined as she said, "I have ... never felt like you made me feel during the ritual. Once I had my knowledge and my staff, I felt no desire for sex. I did not want it. I was convinced it was merely work a woman was expected to do. I used drugs to kill my yearly heat. I have felt no affection for anyone that was not family." She paused, then hastily added, "Marcus is family. He has always been there, like a boulder in the river. Life flows around Marcus, but he has always loved my family. For all I know my father and he were blood brothers, like you and he are now."
She's babbling.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again as he thought, So what? Let her talk.
He had been the cause of this, the least he could do was shut up and let Mila's words run dry on their own.
She said, "Terry, what you did to me was not fair. You had no right to cause me to feel this way."
He frowned, but didn't deny it. It's what he'd come to apologize for in the first place, after all.
"I'm sorry."
"Hush," she said. "You owe me, and I will take my payment now. I know my brother spoke to you. I know you have his approval."
"Mila, we can't do that," he protested. "There's no way to know what might happen to you."
She said simply, "Sit there, and do not worry. We will not have sex. I am more afraid of the consequences of that than you are. But I will have my payment. You will pay me. Stay there."
Terry shifted and did as he was bade. Before he could fold up his legs though Mila stopped him with a gentle hand on his knee.
"Sit like that. Do not move. Can you see?"
"Not a bit," he admitted.
"Good."
He heard the sound of a buckle, then another. The shuffle of cloth, and it didn't take a brilliant mind to figure out what she was doing. Once the sounds stopped, she shifted and settled back against him, pressing her back to his chest as she sat between his spread legs. She drew her tail down and to one side, and he felt it tickling the underside of his left knee briefly before the feel of it vanished in the dark.
Aaand now she's naked. Because of course she is.
He closed his eyes and his head thumped the tree as he laid it back. Mila chuckled softly and reached for his hands, which she pulled in around her as she said, "Prada confessed to me that you wanted to touch me? So touch. Only your hands, Terry. Promise me you will use no magic."
"I promise," he said, and his hands shifted over her fur as she released them. She spread her thighs, resting them against his, and laid her head back against his shoulder.
The fur over her belly was quite possibly the softest, smoothest thing he'd ever run his fingers through. It was silken and warm. He was mindful not to rub it the wrong way, and Mila sighed as she said, "Mm, that's nice."
"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his hands drifting over her thighs and up in exploration. He had to lift and draw them back to avoid pulling her fur in the wrong direction, and it threw him a bit. He was somewhat practiced by now in how to play with a woman's body, but hers had unique needs. Laina's hide had a direction as well, but she seemed not to care which way his hands went, so long as they were on her.
As he pondered this, one hand returning to her belly and tracing lazy circles around her belly button as the other lifted higher, then hesitated, Mila caught that hand and pressed it to the underside of one breast as she breathed, "Finish what you started. You wanted to lay hands on me, do so. I want to feel more of what I felt earlier, but I do not want your magic. I want your deliberate care and attention. I want to see if what I feel is something I truly want ... or if it is just physical. Teach me. Show me how you would care for me."
She squeezed his hand against her breast once, sighed, then let him go, lowering her arms over his thighs. He felt her claws as fiery lines of sensation traced down from his knees.
"So this is a science experiment," he said, unable to keep the smile off his face or out of his voice as his fingertips found and circled her nipple. Mila's breasts were not large, but they fit nicely into the palm of his hand and put his fingers in the perfect position to tease her. He did so, moving his hand from one breast to the other so that his reach was across her chest, knowing that most women appreciated the feeling of being held. He gathered her close to him as his other hand drifted lower.
"Mmm, you have made a science of this?" she asked, then sighed as he cupped her sex, keeping his fingers together as he rolled them. They were quickly damp, and if he'd needed any evidence of how badly she'd wanted this, he had it now.
"I wouldn't say that. Mostly I'll just be watching you," he said, and it was true.
"Oh?" she said. Her breathing was beginning to deepen, but he took his time. "I thought, mmm ... you could not see."
"I can't," he admitted. "Instead, I'll pay attention to your breathing ..."
His hand trailed down her belly, fingers slipping through her fur before lifting to trace the valley between her breasts as her chest rose and fell.
"I'll be feeling your heart beat," he murmured against the base of her ear as he cupped one impossibly soft, silken breast, measuring her pulse through the palm of his hand as he pressed her close. She shivered and sighed. He nuzzled her, and the feel of her fur against his face was odd, but pleasant.
"I'll be listening to the sounds you make," he whispered, as his fingers dipped inside her. She was ready for his touch, and her slick sex made it perfectly plain what sounds he meant to hear. She shuddered against him and splayed her legs wider, pressing his own knees further apart.
"Terry ... yess."
Her voice had a hushed, intent quality that told him she was paying attention to every little move he made, and he couldn't help but smile as he listened to her coo and sigh.
He fell silent then, and explored her tastes. She shivered when he dipped his fingers into her, but it was very quickly apparent that she liked clitoral play more, so he focused on that, pausing infrequently to bring fresh dew up from inside her. His sense of smell might not match a dog's anymore, but even he could smell her now, a sharp, musky tang in the air around them gave away the game.
She began making distinctly feline sounds, and rubbed her back against him longingly, but he took his time. He would have her pleasure come to him, rather than thrust it upon her.
It didn't keep him from developing a raging hard-on though, and there was no way to disguise it with her rubbing her ass against him like she was. Still, he had enough sex to keep him satisfied. He focused on her pleasures, and after a few minutes more he felt her start to quiver under his hand.
"So close ... Terry, I need you to finish me, please ..." she whimpered.
He neither slowed his play, nor hurried it. He knew by the feel of her that he had her exactly where she wanted to be, and a moment later she proved it as her body shuddered and she jerked her legs closed, trapping his hand against her sex as he felt her quivering underneath his fingertips.
He wrapped his free arm around her body and held her close, resting his chin against her shoulder and nuzzling her lazily, doing his best to ignore for the moment how horny she had made him.
Prada owes me big time for this, he thought wryly to himself. There's no way I go to bed tonight without some TLC from someone. These women are either going to drain me dry or drive me crazy.
Eventually, Mila's legs relaxed, and she tilted her head as though to look back at him. He couldn't see a thing though, not even the reflection from her eyes. He just had a sense of her shape. Her hand on the back of his head surprised him, but her lips against his surprised him more.
Her kiss felt strange. Her whiskers tickled his cheek, but the kiss lasted only a moment. She kept her lips closed, and he was thankful for that, because he really didn't want to take this any farther than it had already gone.
"Perhaps," she breathed, "we can do some further experimentation?"
"If that's what you want, I suggest you talk to my women about it."
"They are not fools, Terry," Mila said, making no effort to pull away from him. In fact, she seemed to be snuggling in, which forced him to suppress a whimper. "They know what we do here. Or at least, some of what we do. I would be willing to bet they assume we go farther than we have."
Her fingers traced over his thigh as she said it, and she'd half-turned against him when they'd kissed. He wasn't an idiot. If he didn't stop her, he knew where her hand was headed. While he mentally conceded that she was likely right, he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice in as many days. Laina especially deserved to be consulted.
"Talk to my women. I have more than just your wants to consider here," he said again as he set a hand on hers. It fell still at once. Mila didn't seem willing to press.
"Is your ... I mean are you," he faltered, uncertain what to say, then decided to just be blunt. "Is this heat thing you've got going on still a problem?"
"This was not a natural heat," she said quietly. "What I felt is receding. Now what I feel is only attraction, something I have ... felt for some time. I did not want to explore it. Being with you is dangerous for me. I am still not happy it happened this way, but it did. Thank you at least for being ... you."
He smiled faintly, but she had reminded him of something else. He said, "If you like, there is one other thing I've been wanting to do with you."
"Oh? What?" she asked. He imagined she was looking at him, but couldn't be sure. He reached up though, and his fingers found and traced the shell of one of her erect, mobile ears. He came to the base of it and rubbed, gently at first, then with a bit more vigor.
He hadn't known what to expect, but he didn't bother to suppress his smile when Mila simply sagged against him with a soft grunt and said breathlessly, "Oh, that. How did you know?"
"Cats back home like it. Figured you might too."
"More than you know. It would not break my heart if you keep it up for a while."
"Can do."
As he switched from one ear to the other, rubbing both inside and out, she melted gradually against him until her head was resting on one of his thighs. He lost track of the time, but guessed at least twenty minutes had passed before she spoke again.
"No one has done this for me since I left for my apprenticeship," she said quietly. "Yuri will be jealous."
He chuckled once and said, "Yeah, well, sucks to be him. I don't do guys."
"Mm. Your women have spoken often of your hang-ups. This one at least, I think they will have no objections about."
Her words were lazy and came from a place very close to insensibility, which only encouraged him to keep rubbing her ears and massaging her scalp. More time passed. In the dark there he had no idea how long. But he found to his mild surprise that he never seemed to tire of petting her. The simple pleasure she obviously derived from it only made him want to give her more. Eventually though, her head slid off his thigh as she curled up and breathed with the deep, even rhythm of sleep.
Moving carefully, he disentangled himself and stood. In the dark he'd have a helluva time trying to find her robe, so he took his tunic off and covered her with that instead. It wasn't even close to cold, but she had her reasons for doing this in the dark, and he'd respect that.
Besides, if her magic wears off before she wakes up and someone else sees her, I'll get blamed as sure as the sun rises.
Then he took a deep breath, let it out, and started doing powers in his head, fully intent on keeping it up until his hard-on gave up the ghost. He was not going back out into the light of day with his dick tenting his pants.
What I wouldn't give for some modern underwear.
He was well into the six-figures before his sub-mind gave it up, and even then he had a residual ache that didn't leave him for quite a while afterward.
16
You Gets In, There …
The rest of the day was blissfully une
ventful, at least in terms of anyone trying to kill him or the people around him.
Given how things are going lately, I think my idea of an uneventful day is getting a bit skewed.
Yuri had obviously been waiting for him, and when he emerged he met the tiger man's eye and nodded. Yuri lifted his head a bit as though measuring the worth of that nod, then returned it and approached, saying, "Come on. We will spar for a little while. You need as much practice with that ax of yours as you can manage. Laina is working with Marcus, which means you are mine for now."
He caught sight of Prada gliding along the ground toward him and almost told her to go away, but decided against it. She rejoined him a moment later and her first thought was, 'Are you still upset with me?'
Thinking about it, he shrugged and made no attempt to answer. In truth he was upset, but it struck him as silly to be mad at Prada for being what and who she was. He knew she preferred to manipulate. Knew she wasn't at all like him when it came to how she thought about the world. If anything, he was at least as irritated at himself for falling for it as he was at her for setting him up.
He got the sense from her that she was following his thoughts and they upset her, but she didn't say anything else, and any thoughts of Prada were soon driven entirely from Terry's mind.
Yuri worked with him for the better part of the next four hours, and by the end of that time he was covered in bruises, some of which were bone deep. The tiger man used the flat of his blade, but his method of teaching was essentially to beat Terry, tell him why he'd been beaten, then do it over again until he got the message. Then he'd pick another way to beat him.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
It was painful, educational, and by the end of it Terry was convinced that while Yuri might be intellectually okay with what had happened to his sister and how Terry had handled it so far ... emotionally? He, like any older brother anywhere, wasn't above getting a few shots in.
As a man with two sisters of his own, Terry understood him perfectly, and kept his mouth shut.
