Taken for Granite

by Nancey Cummings

  “I wouldn’t like the water, either, if that happened to me,” she said. “So, thank you for jumping in to help.”

  “You did not require assistance,” he said sourly.

  “Maybe, but you didn’t know that, which makes it sweeter.”

  “I am not sweet.” Bah. Sweet.

  “So it’s been a day…” Her voice trailed off, as if waiting for him to finish her thought, as if he had any notion about what blurted out of her mouth.

  She wanted to talk about the kiss. He prepared himself to deny attraction and deny that his cock stood at attention just at the thought of her. “Yes,” he said, cautiously.

  Then again, why deny the attraction? His body reacted purely on instinct. It was nothing more than the physiological reaction to a stimulus. He was no more at fault for being attracted to Juniper than she was for causing his aching cock stand.

  She sighed. “I can’t sit alone, okay? My mind just gets trapped in this worst-case-scenario loop. I need a plan. I need to plan for a plan.”

  Not what he had been expecting, and Tas noted with annoyance that he felt disappointed. “And you want to know my plan.”

  “Well, yeah.” She joined him on the rock, their thighs touching. “How long do we wait before we, um, before the exchange?”

  “How long before you trade my freedom for your sister’s life?” Perhaps he spoke a bit cooler than necessary. He knew that was the original agreement, but his pride smarted at the notion she would be so eager to see him off.

  “You volunteered,” she retorted. “I know you need to rest and heal, so how long will that take?”

  “I cannot say.” Too long. His progress was minimal, and her proximity kept his body primed for mating, not healing. Until he purged his body, it would not end.

  “Then we wait. If you’re not healed, you won’t have a fighting chance.”

  Her concern seemed genuine, for a possible agent. Why was she so insistent that he heal? That ran counter to what he expected from an agent.

  “Is there anything we can do to speed up the process?”

  Spoken like an agent.

  “No,” he said, lying.

  “Any food? A special vitamin?”

  “No.”

  “I’m only asking because you’re as shaky and feverish as you were two nights ago. Worse, now that I’m looking at you. Sleeping outside did not do you any favors.”

  Her hand lightly brushed his brow. Tas sprang back, his useless wings outstretched. “Do not,” he hissed.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she repeated.

  “I am worse because of you.” Once he uttered the words, the rest spilled out as though a dam burst. “I cannot rest, I cannot think, and I cannot enter duramna because of your pheromones, female. Stay away from me.”

  “What? How is this my fault?”

  “Because I need to mate!” His voice filled the glade and echoed off the trees.

  Silence hung between them.

  He was so tired of resisting, of trying to ignore the pebble in his boot. He wanted to see her, wanted to see if her face held shock, disgust, or intrigue.

  “It is a physiological reaction,” he explained. “My body has responded to your pheromones and activated my mating gland.” He touched just under his jaw, near his ear, indicating the gland at the back of his throat.

  “Oh.” She was quiet for a moment. “What happens if we don’t, you know, mate?”

  “It is unpleasant, but eventually it will pass.”

  “So why don’t we?”

  He did not believe her words. “Because my mating fluid, my dassa, can alter your DNA. In a female Khargal, it makes her fertile and improves her health. I do not know exactly what it will do to a human.”

  “So you haven’t, um, with a human before?”

  “Not I. Others have,” he said.

  “But the women survived?”

  “Undoubtedly. There are Khargal-human hybrids.”

  She hummed, as if thinking over the problem. “Let’s do it.”

  juniper

  Okay, okay. In all fairness, “We need to screw to cure my illness” wasn’t the best come-on she ever heard, but Tas looked rough. She believed him. After eating basically everything she put in front of him the day before, he gained a little color back and no longer looked so emaciated. His dip in the lake hadn’t helped, and he slept outside, wet, with no shirt and no blanket. She knew this because she left two blankets and a pillow on the front porch last night when it was obvious he wasn’t coming in, but they remained untouched that morning.

  Stubborn gargoyle. Last night got cold. She shivered under two blankets and a flannel sheet and couldn’t imagine roughing it outdoors.

  And she couldn’t deny her attraction to him. He was everything out of a fantasy, with his handsome face, strong shoulders and wings. She wanted to touch and stroke the leathery membranes. She wanted his wings to wrap around her, cocooning her inside, safe in his arms.

  Tas frowned, the grumpy expression marring his perfectly symmetrical face and making him somehow more attractive. Not fair. “Why would you do this for me?” he asked.

  “Because the sooner we can get you healed, the sooner we get Chloe back.”

  That was the logical reason. She had to do it—had to have sex with the gargoyle—because her vagina had magical healing properties or something. God, it sounded so ridiculous.

  “What if you get with child?” His eyes brightened for a moment, as if the idea pleased him.

  “Can that happen?”

  “Yes.” He did not elaborate.

  “Risk of pregnancy is nil,” she added, thinking of the IUD she had implanted three years ago. “I might be ovulating right now, which could be the pheromones you were talking about, but I’m on birth control.” That made a certain degree of sense. “Do you know about birth control?”

  “From personal experience?”

  Juniper laughed unexpectedly, the snarky comment catching her off guard.

  “I know of sheaths and womb veils,” he said.

  “Wow, that’s old-fashioned.” A sheath had to be a condom, but she could only guess at the idea of a womb veil. “We have pills now to prevent pregnancy. I have an implanted device, so we’re safe in that regard,” she said. He grunted. “And, honestly, this is like my all-time biggest fantasy.”

  “Really? I somehow doubt that.” Surprise colored his voice.

  “Really. There was—it’s so weird to tell you this—but there was this cartoon when I was just hitting puberty. About gargoyles. The main character was way too good-looking for a kids’ show.”

  “You have a fantasy about gargoyles? About me?”

  Juniper nodded, belatedly realized that he couldn’t see her reply. “Yeah. And honestly, I just need to get out of my head. I’m worried. I’m tired. There’s nothing I can do. I want to not think.”

  She wanted skin on skin, mouth to mouth. She wanted to be held, to lose herself in touch and sensation, the push and pull of them.

  The sun fell on his face, casting his gray skin with a compelling luster. She wondered if he would be cool as stone to the touch, or warm. Her hand stretched out, but she pulled it back.

  “Can I touch you?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  Warm. He was warm and alive, not a stone fantasy but a living, breathing—well, not a man but a person—a living, breathing person.

  Her hands brushed along his collarbone, appreciating the strength in his broad shoulders before drifting down to his pecs. She could feel his heart beating under her palm, steady and sure. She leaned in, giving his heart a light kiss.

  He sucked in his breath.

  “That not okay?”

  “It is fine.”

  She noticed his clenched fists, the way his tail lashed against the rock, and his dick, hard as ever. Having a constant erection for the last two days couldn’t be comfortable. He wasn’t fine.

  “How long does this mating fever-rut-heat thing last?”

  “Until
I have expressed the glands completely.”

  So clinical. So absolutely not sexy. So completely Tas. Juniper smirked.

  “Can I touch your horns?”

  “There is not much sensation there. It is keratin,” he said.

  “Hollow?”

  He shook his head. “There are nerves inside, but I cannot feel much, only at the base.”

  She started with the horn near his right temple, running her index finger and thumb down the curving shaft. At the base, she rubbed where the horn met his scalp and hair. His eyes fluttered closed and he shuddered.

  “Good?”

  “Yes,” he hissed.

  “We should take the edge off. Would that help?” Her hand brushed against his crotch. Another hiss but he lifted his hips, tugging his pants down enough to free his cock. He leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs out.

  His cock stood proud, dark purple with a vivid pink head, glistening with precum. Shaped liked a human penis, with a thick vein down the underside, she noticed the extras. It swelled in the middle, giving a girth that promised to stuff her entirely. Ridges ran down the top and she knew they would hit the right spots inside.

  She licked her lips and moved to straddle his legs. The size of him was enough to make her reconsider and reminded her of the quote about how to eat an elephant.

  When blowing a gargoyle, take it one lick at a time.

  She licked the weeping head and the flavor of salted caramel burst on her tongue. Delighted, she hummed with pleasure and swirled around the head. She licked the underside, the thick vein throbbing and pulsing. With her hand at the base, she wrapped her lips around him and took him as deeply as she could.

  His hand rested at the back of her head, guiding her as she worked him in and out. His strong fingers twisted into her hair, pulling. The sharp sensation zipped down her spine and went straight to her core. She didn’t know she was into hair pulling, but apparently, her body liked it. So much.

  His cock pulsed under her tongue. Her hand, slick with his precum and her saliva, stroked and her head bobbed.

  The light diminished and they were in the shade. His one functional wing wrapped around, creating a barrier between them and the world. He shielded her, cradled her, and crooned, low and sultry. The song of a male lost to passion. A song he sang for her.

  He released his grip on her hair and tapped her head in what was apparently the universal sign he was about to come. She didn’t stop. She wanted him, all of him—every last drop. His cock swelled and twitched, and with a hiss, he flooded her mouth with salted caramel.

  She remained still until the pulsing ceased. Sitting up straight, she swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Better?”

  Tas collapsed back, tossing an arm over his eyes. “The best.”

  12

  Juniper

  Leaving a trail of clothes behind, they somehow ended upstairs in the cabin. His hands traversed every part of her, exploring and memorizing her curves. They gave an appreciative squeeze to her breasts, not too hard, and he growled with approval when he reached her ass.

  Juniper fell back onto the bed, and he covered her, his face buried in her hair. His lips skimmed down her neck and the valley between her breasts, not kissing or licking but his warm breath marking a trail in raised flesh and shivers. For a man who needed to fuck, he was taking his sweet time.

  “Tas,” she implored, raising her hips. She ached for him. “I’m ready.” She’d been ready the moment his salted caramel cum hit her tongue.

  She moved to kiss him, but he turned his head, then a strong hand pushed her back down. “That is not necessary,” he said.

  “Oh. Do your people not...” She didn’t want to finish that question, because it asked if Tas kissed at all or if it was just her he didn’t want to kiss.

  “No. We do not.”

  Relief fluttered in her chest. Silly heart. Don’t get attached. He told you this was just to relieve his body’s needs, to purge the mating hormones so he can heal. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even like you.

  “Like this.” Tas flipped her over and raised to all fours.

  She bit back the snarky comment that she knew he didn’t want to kiss her, but did he have to act like he didn’t want to look at her? He was blind. The idea that Tas didn’t even want to face her during sex hurt.

  Something about her breathing or posture must have betrayed her thoughts. His large hand stroked her back and caressed the curve of her ass. “Do not misunderstand. Female Khargals have wings. This way is familiar.”

  Oh. “Sorry, I just assumed—”

  His hands explored her back and sides, mapping her curves. He stroked her soft stomach, pressing his front to her back. She wiggled, spreading her legs wider, just as his hand delved into her folds. A low-pitched growl rumbled in his chest, piercing right through her.

  “Be sure,” he said, mouth pressed to her ear.

  “Yes. I’m sure.” Tas might kid himself and say this would be nothing more than a clinical fuck, a medical necessity, but she felt the heat between them. She couldn’t stop herself responding to him and he couldn’t hold back. This was anything but clinical.

  His finger strummed her like an instrument, eliciting new notes from her cries.

  Something warm wrapped around her leg and slid upward: his tail. The tip stroked between her ass cheeks and she gasped. It pushed at her tight hole but stopped shy of breaching.

  “I want you here,” he growled. The tail danced around the ring of sensitive nerves. She could only imagine how good it would feel to be filled up with him, stuffed in both places.

  “God, yes.”

  “But not just yet.” With no more warning than that, he entered her.

  Juniper gasped at the sudden sensation of being very full, very fast. He pushed in, somehow going deeper, and waited for her to adjust.

  “Pebble?” He ran his hand over her hair, tangling in the messy ponytail.

  “I’m fine. Just a shock. I haven’t had anything bigger than my fingers in a long time.” She grimaced at that confession. Why did she say that? His grip on her ponytail tightened. Apparently, he liked her cringey sex confession or liked knowing he was the only one to be inside of her.

  He began to move, the first stroke a slow retreat before pushing back. His good wing covered her on one side, beating against her thigh with each pump. The ridges along his shaft hit the perfect spot, each thrust forward sparking new bliss.

  Soon her world narrowed to where their bodies connected. His hand on her back. His other hand pulling on her hair. She dug her fingers into the bedsheet, twisting the fabric. His wing wafted cool air over her heated body as his tail possessively wrapped around her ankle.

  He pressed his mouth to the crook of her neck, and without warning, he sank his fangs in. The sharp sting surprised her, but he never lost his rhythm. A tingly warmth flooded her, driving away the lingering ache of the bite. She floated away at the sensation, her body not quite hers and completely under his control.

  Tension curled around her, ready to burst but she couldn’t let go. Not yet. Her hand slipped down her front and she rubbed her clit.

  Tas growled and knocked her hand away, replacing her finger with his own. He pressed too hard and too fast, but it worked, tipping her over hard into her climax. Juniper cried with pleasure until her throat felt raw. With her head resting on her folded arms, he pounded into overly-sensitive flesh.

  His grip tightened on her arm and he stilled. His wing beat once, twice, and he pumped into her a third time, releasing deep within her. Warmth flooded her and he fell at her side.

  Gathering her into his arms, he kissed the curve of her neck, still sore and tender from his bite. “Pebble,” he whispered in a husky, dreaming voice.

  tas

  Tas woke with hunger for his pebble. The worst of the mating fever had passed. He could fly away now and slip into duramna, he knew with certainty, but he hesitated to leave the warm bed. Resting on his side, hi
s wing stretched over her, the unconscious act of a male protecting his female. Her limbs tangled with his and her hair spilled on the pillows.

  This female.

  He brushed the back of his hand across her brow. She had done nothing but assist him. She fed him, clothed him, sheltered him, and eased the burn of mating, all under the burden of her own worries. Even after the act, when he used her body and lost himself to his base needs, she thought of his wellbeing.

  His cock stirred for her.

  Her breathing changed and she woke.

  “Hey,” she said, voice groggy.

  “Good morning, pebble.” The endearment slipped out. She made a pleased noise and he could not fight the sense of elation that she allowed this name. Perhaps he was not quite finished with purging the mating fluids from his body. Clearly, a hormonal imbalance made him sentimental.

  He rocked his hips toward her, his cock rubbing against her stomach.

  She sucked in her breath. “Again?”

  He rolled her underneath him, fitting himself in the cradle of thighs. She fit him perfectly.

  “You are beautiful,” he said, holding himself above her.

  “You don’t even know what I look like.”

  “You are beautiful on the inside. I do not need to see you to know this.”

  Her breath hitched at the tender words. “Careful. I might start to think you care.”

  He did, more than he wanted to admit.

  They joined, in warmth and soft breaths, their bodies moving together. This time he felt her, truly her. More than her heat as he pushed deep inside and more than fluttering sighs, more than her body responding to his on a primal level. He felt her heart as she welcomed him into her, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and gripped the base of his wings as he drove into her again and again, filling her and spilling into her.

  She arched off the bed, tightening her grip on his wing base, and her core clenched him tight as she reached her release. Sharp pleasure spiked through him and his release followed, pumping deep into her.