The dark-eyed beast’s brow furrowed heavily and he brought the mixture to his face to sniff. A louder, funnier noise left him as he jerked back, away from it, to glare down at his hand like it was the perpetrator. His mouth opened slowly, his tongue darting out, and I was somewhat reminded of a snake tasting the air. My all out crying jag ceased for a moment, cut off abruptly to taper off into loud, ugly cry aftermath sniffles, because I knew, before he’d even made a move, what he planned to do.
Don’t- Don’t tast- Oh, gross! He did. He actually did! He just- Ick! I thought to myself, too busy sniffling and carrying on in my post wail snuffles, on the outside, my junk throbbing in every sense possible, pain, this sense of incompletion, more pain, struggling to go back to its original shape, I was sure, from my recent impalement... and did I mention pain? To properly express how not cool watching him dart his tongue out for- Gah! He did it again! Ugh. I couldn’t even think it.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I got out on a hoarse whisper.
Tokre’s head jerked up as my chest heaved then hiccupped, his gaze unerringly shifting to meet my exposed pussy.
They’d just met, kinda, so no introductions needed. Or his dick had, I should say, but they’ll not be catching up again for a long while yet, if my angry vaginal pulsing had anything to say about that.
Wincing as a particularly uncomfortable twinge cramped my snatch, I scuttled back, curling my legs up, my feet tucking in, effectively covering my nudity.
Tokre made a weird noise and hunched down, as if to make himself smaller, his head tilting, exposing his neck, and then that crooning started up in his chest. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, his gaze fixed on the general area of a particular part of my anatomy, his large hands setting in front of him, knuckles down, grinding them into the floor of his hut methodically as he leaned forward to balance himself on them. He looked as shook up by our ordeal as I was.
Traumatizing first time? Check.
“Tokre...?” Swiping at my eyes, despite swearing to myself up and down I wasn’t going to do this, wasn’t going to give him some easy excuse to get rid of the headache of a female he’d stupidly taken on, wishing I had someone to talk to about this, a computer to look shit up on, something! And more importantly, where was my interest in all of this before now? I felt so unprepared, so overwhelmed. What books did they have to prep on beast kidnappings, though, I’d like to know! And gentle beast seduction?! Can one be quadruple-whelmed? That’s what I was, on all fronts.
Despite everything, emotions ruled supreme with me, period, the gatekeeper, keymaster, master of everything—I went ahead and channeled that female anyway. “I th-th-think- I think you broke my vagina!”
CHAPTER 8
Tokre kept patting my head heavily as I buried my face in a thick fur, the heavy pelt warm and inviting, refusing to look at him—refusing to look at anyone or anything. My newly christened mate had moved me to his big bed and washed me off, frowning as the wet cloth he used came away smeared with blood.
He was notably wonderful about ignoring my howling wails and garbled babbling as this went on, even going so far as to attempt to put a horribly smelling paste on my lady junk. I would admit, the bits that had received that funky salve were sporting a rather pleasant tingle. Couldn’t say much for the rest of me, though.
Snot leaking from my nose, my hands slapping at him every other second and then hugging him to me in frantic, crazed fits? Didn’t bother that male one iota, not in the least. And after the activities we’d participated in, I was surprised that cloth he’d so carefully cleaned me off with hadn’t come away drenched in crimson, dripping buckets—my poor, abused lady parts throbbed so angrily at me.
Embarrassed and unable to explain when he kept trying to prod my sex, refusing to let him check down there, I rolled over and hid my face in his blankets. It was my pussy, damn it, and I’d cry about it if I wanted to, right along with my tender insides.
But, like, don’t leave me, you giant idiot, that other half of me kicked in to fuss about, you’re mine now and you’re not allowed to under any circumstances get rid of me, in any way, shape, or form. And I didn’t care what for—a mate was a mate, and that male would learn that soon enough if he thought to try anything funny, get one over on me.
Oh, hell no. He thought he was getting himself a mate, did he? Gonna kidnap me? Oh, I’d be showing him a mate, alright. I’d go Joanie style on his butt, if need be. He split my shit, he’s keepin’ me!
And if I never got out of this, well, he’d just better shape up, because homie don’t play like that, and this mated shit was going to happen, period. I was his lady, for however long that might be, and his ass was mine until I said otherwise, I thought indignantly.
Gave that hairy wad my virginity, surely that was worth something! Hmmph. Tigerlady rawr, I thought, already huffing and puffing about things that might not even happen.
Crooning softly to me, his chin resting atop my head, Tokre kept petting my damned va-jay-jay, snuggled up to my back. His free hand reached out, cradling my equally as aching breast gingerly—the one with a giant bite mark on it, unaware of my thoughts and inner ramblings.
As I lay there, letting him fondle my good bits, the look on his face an admission as to his worry for his new fav body part friends, I at least had the consolation of feeling like I had a definite place here—or so it appeared so to me—so far.
So if this was going to go how I was hoping it would, as his mate he’d look after me and protect me, and we’d assume the happily ever after position, while I quietly, secretly plotted a way for my ass to vamoose.
I had to admit, noting the look of concern bleeding into his stern features—worry over me—despite the fact that he was the one who had taken me. He was also the one who had saved me from that freaking bear.
He’d saved my life, then taken it—in a sense, or taken me from mine, I should say—forcing me into his. Definitely not okay, dude-beast, I thought in annoyance.
He wasn’t so bad, I guessed, with his silly grumbles and gruffness—kinda funny with his shocked reaction to anything I did, like kissing, for example. My lips quirked up for a second at that but quickly fell.
He was untrained in the being gentle and bedding virgins department, but I was already coming up with theories on that one.
He was almost... untrained in people-ing. Untrained, untried, unused to anything. Was he always by himself? Was that his lot in life? The broken dude?
A bad mate? How sad and lonely that must be for him.
Eyes widening at the tiny ache in my chest just thinking about being some village shunned person, the bad seed in a sea of many, I jerked visibly, then blinked. Oh my god, am I...? No, I wasn’t sympathizing with the thing. This it—yes, it—no, I totally wasn’t. Pfft. Why would I? Should I? I wasn’t worried about falling for the creature or anything, no. I mean... he’s a beast, and I’m not, and I... no. Just no. How twisted would that be? No, wasn’t gonna happen.
Without him, though, I just had to argue with myself, I probably wouldn’t be here.
Or, I thought with a cringe, I could’ve ended up stuck with—gah—Rek. The idea was scarier than Tokre and his crazy dick and all of his oddness.
I dunno, I thought with some trepidation, maybe I’d already sipped the alien beast punch—maybe the rabbit hole had swallowed me up, gobbling me whole—but I felt safe with Tokre, honestly, even in all this madness, in everything that’s happened, crazy beastiness aside. I didn’t think he’d protect me, I’d witnessed it for myself, several times now, in fact.
My poor sex gave a twinge and I grimaced. Yeah, and who will protect me from that steel pipe he’s toting around?
Tokre, as if he could sense my discomfort or smell my pain, started to coo even louder, the heavy fall of his hands gentling to whisper soft touches.
“Yes,” patting his hand as it continued to pat my shit, I agreed, “my poor, poor pussy. Let’s both mourn the loss of its usual shape, shall we? Until it heals up and I allow
you to stretch it beyond its limits and we can do this all over again.”
Mine, the giant Abominable male mumbled into the crown of my hair, his heart thundering steadily against my back.
“Yours,” I said aloud, as if he needed to hear it and I needed to keep telling myself that was the deal. He gets the goods, I get to live.
Now I just had to protect my poor vagina from his bear of a cock.
˜˙˜*˜˙˜
I was pretty positive he was asleep, his breathing nice and even, a little whistle of a snore coming from his nose. For all my carrying on and waterworks themed dramatics, I couldn’t say more than an hour had passed.
Now, I may be new to all this sexing it up stuff, but one thing that had been drilled into me: have fun, sure, but relieve that bladder after. Better late than never, my bladder agreed.
Carefully removing his arm from my person, I inched, slowly but surely, away from him. Other than a tiny huff of a protest, still appearing to be what looked to be, to me, dead asleep, he didn’t so much as stir.
Good, I thought, right before rolling myself right off the bed, over the side, and straight onto the floor. My naked body smacked the unforgiving floor, my limbs landing with a few resounding, simultaneous slaps of which I had not anticipated at all, making my journey to the land of relief all the more tedious.
Trying to muffle my pain-filled grunts as I got to my hands and knees, wincing with every scoot across the floor and around the foot of the bed, I thought I’d made it free to go about my business, or try to if I could find the darned restroom in this joint, in relative peace.
That is to say, until my head bumped something, a pair of furry legs, I realized, and then his toes came into focus, claw-tipped and long, a blue tint to the tips of his tootsies, and I was just damned freaking busted.
Curling my legs beneath me, I plopped back on them on my butt. Daring a peek at him, I let out a nervous titter.
Tokre stared down at me, that eerie, unreadable look on his fuzzy face, his long, massive arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t say a word, just stood there.
Gaze darting from him to the bed, then down at myself, I bit my lip. Should I tell him? Could I, I should say. Would it even matter to him?
Pointing to the furs piled up on my side of the bed, my one woman pelt cocoon, I swallowed hard, mumbling, “I fell off the bed.”
As if to prove my point, I began pointing out the numerous bumps and soon to be forming dark patches the floor had not so lovingly bestowed upon me. This just seemed to confuse the beastie even more.
“I have to go pee,” I admitted, gesturing to my groin region and then the door.
Tokre’s brow, creased in a wrinkled fold that was practically covering his pitch black shiny olives for eyes, shot up. So I gestured to the pots hanging on the wall, my person, and then the door. A deep, unhappy noise left his throat as I continued to make the same gestures, motioning towards my vagina, the pot, and then the door with great gusto.
No doing. Nothing. Not an ounce of recognition.
“Fine,” I grumbled under my breath, making to stand. Widening my stance as I gained my feet, sore and a bit wobbly on rubbery legs, I pointed to the pot and made as if to squat. Gesturing with my hands in great gushing motions, my face a purplish red of embarrassment, it felt so hot and I blushed so suddenly, I even added sound effects to better my rousing game of beastly charades.
Tokre’s eyes widened as my squat copping inadvertently gave him a peek at the goods. When he would have made to move forward at the tantalizing display, the gushing motions and broken pipe sound effects gave him pause.
Now the creature standing before me was staring at me like he was worried I might crap my innards at any moment.
Lovely.
And now, for some reason, he looked so freaking guilty I almost felt bad. Almost. Having to pee won out.
“I need to take a piss!” I shouted, startling him hard enough to make him snarl and jump back like he thought I meant to lunge at him and attack
“Pee! Tinkle! Make peeshy! Drain the she-lizard! I gotta wee, mon capitan!”
Tokre, so confused it wasn’t even slightly funny anymore, scratched at his furry head as he studied me. When he saw how impatient I was growing he began making the same sploosh gestures and crouching a little, like maybe if he somehow mimicked me he’d figure it out.
“Oh, for the love of!” Hopping up, reaching over and snatching a fur up from the bed to fly across the room, I ran for the door, banging my fists on it for someone from the other side to let my ass free. “I have a tiny bladder and I’m not afraid to lose it!” I howled.
Something popped, a latch, a lever, I didn’t know, but the door opened and I was free.
Thank Captain Kirk for small favors and faulty door locks, my inner geek cried out in wonder.
Rushing out, ignoring the funny noise Tokre made as I flung the door open and made a run for it, I made it all the way ‘round the side and towards the back, facing the woods before I realized he hadn’t followed. I was honestly surprised to find the beast hadn’t come charging after me.
Eyeing my surroundings, I mentally shrugged. The back of his hut was as good a place as any to let it go, so I did, digging a little hole to use to cover it with snow afterward.
Waddling my way back inside, I wondered if that funny looking, green and black speckled lump he kept on his counter by that small water bucket looking thing was soap. Trying to ignore my frozen, needle-pricked numb feet, I heard it before I saw it, this horrible, gut twisting, pained noise.
Stepping into the warmth of the hut and closing the door behind me, I found Tokre hugging my wet pants to his face, rocking himself back and forth, his giant form curled up in a tiny ball, his cheek pressing to them, his eyes squeezed shut tight as he made the saddest sound I’d ever heard.
He was... mourning? Who the heck died in the space of five minutes?
Deciding to try and wash my hands and, erm, other places first before attempting to approach him, ignoring the loud, sad hum warbling his chest, the mini howl emitting from his throat, I quickly made use of what was indeed an ugly bar of homemade soap.
Nothing like freshening up the downstairs to a man’s sobs to get you moving, I thought snarkily.
Drying my hands on a small bit of woven cloth that was no doubt made by beast creature hands, pat drying my personal parts, I set the cloth down on the table nearest the counter and made my way over to him.
“Uh... Heya, big fella. Heh-heh. Who, erm, died?” Wincing, I cringed inside and out, but what was I supposed to do?
Comfort him. You’re his mate now, stupid. Eek. Mate—I didn’t think I’d ever get used to thinking that.
Reaching out, I gave his heaving back a there-there pat, wondering if he was hugging my pants for lack of things to wipe his eyes on or...?
I didn’t have a chance to find out.
At my light, feathery touch, Tokre’s head jerked up. “Mmmmmnnnn?” his deep bass of a voice growled out softly, his eyes cloudy with as of yet to be shed tears. The male was bawling his damned eyes out.
“Well, it’s Rosie,” I joked. “Rosalinda.” A small smile tipped my lips, unbidden. “But, you know, language barriers and all, I guess that works for now, too. Who doesn’t want to be Mmmmmnnn-y, right?”
He just blinked up at me, his mouth open in a beastly gape.
And I’m really not as funny as I’d like to think I am.
Holy crap, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen, like someone had just killed his mutant beastie puppy and he just couldn’t deal. The sad rumble vibrating throughout the small space stopped and he sucked a nose full of gunk up his sinuses with an enormous, gook filled sniffle.
Mine, Tokre mouthed the words, chucking my wet jeans he’d been snuggling off to the side of him to grip my hips, shoving the fur wrapped around me and draped across my front loosely aside, to bury his face in my bared stomach.
Mine. His warm breath blew across my sensitive flesh, making me shiver, th
e words mouthed against my tummy and lower over and over. Mine. Mine. Mine. His hands tightened, his movements almost frantic with relief, and a hint of... worry?
“I was just going pee, buddy,” I reminded him, “no need to, well, panic.” As if I couldn’t help but try and soothe him, I began smoothing the fluffy, hairy, cowlick-like anomaly faux-hawking the tippy top of his head.
Ironic, I thought, that he would let me go so easily, assuming I was leaving him for some strange reason, and after all that damned work he’d done to get me here in the first place? And here I was, petting his damned head, comforting him! Would any of this ever make sense?!
Tokre’s hands flexed on my hips as he started to nuzzle lower, grazing my belly with tiny, playful, searching nips. “Oh, buddy, that’s, uh, that’s- That’s... gonna be a- What are you doing?” I rushed out, unhooking his hands to step back.
Tokre allowed it, pulling back, his hands falling to his sides to stare down at the dark patch of hair between my legs. The longer he stared at my shit, the more he seemed to close in on himself, his shoulders curling inwardly along with him.
“Uh...” I had no clue what to think of that. He’s sad about my vagina? “It’s, uh, nicer on the inside?” I joked lamely, following it up with a weird laugh.
Was this the virginity thing? Is he sad it’s gone now? Wait. Do beast people possess a hymen? Does he... “You know this is fine, right?” I asked for no particular reason. Can’t understand you, Rosie, chickie, remember? Did he take the blood and my pee gush charades to mean he thought...? No! But then I glanced down, studying him. Hmm. Maybe.
My hand came down to slide over my pubic region, but a harsh snarl had me nixing that idea real quick. “Jesus! Okay, no touching! Even for me! Got it!” I bit out harshly.
A sound warbled out of him, part mourn, part coo, and I was the one frowning heavily, staring down at him, lost as hell.
“You know what? Fine. I have no idea how this is supposed to play out and, frankly, I’m getting tired of trying not to piss myself or puke my guts out, sick out of my head with my own kinda freaking worrying going on, and my ass just got here!”
Bride of Glass Page 9
