Flora & Fauna Pt. 03

There is blissfully and maddeningly no mention of the way Andrius touched me by the water. As if it didn't happen at all. He had dry goods to pair with the plants growing outside. We sit on the pillows beside the fireplace, my back leaning against his lower torso as we eat savory porridge full of roasted vegetables. I look up at him through my periphery, but he's watching the fire as he chews a mouthful.

"Can we talk about it?"

"No," he answers without looking at me.

"I think it would be fine," I grumble, though I'm uncertain.

"You've never even had sex. I have."

"So you know what you're doing?"

"You're relentless. You ought to be a salesperson."

"Can't you just," I glance at the innocuous hiding place between his folded legs, "not use all of it? We could stop wherever it gets to be too much and not go further."

The firelight makes it impossible for me to see if he's blushing when he sets down his bowl, but his expression is awkward and nervous.

"It um," he pauses and his eyes move around as if he's hunting down the words in his mind, "It's not that simple. Centaurs aren't like humans in that way."

I swallow the last little bite of porridge and stack my empty bowl in his for something to do. The odds are in my favor that I am more stubborn than Andrius. And I'm willing to wait for his explanation to go further. I turn around to drape myself over his lower torso and comb my fingers through his hair absentmindedly. He closes his eyes and shivers under my touch before he goes on.

"Centaurs, males in particular, go into a kind of trance when we fuck. Like a rut. It would still be me but... I don't know how in control or able to take direction I would be."

"Oh," my hands pause at the information, "Is it like that when you're with females of your own kind?"

He nods.

The unwelcome imagining of Andrius with another fills my mind. A beautiful creature like himself with silken hair, glistening eyes, and a body that can accept his. I hate the way it makes my eyes prickle and my stomach twist into knots. I lay limp across his back and nuzzle my face into his fur.

"I'm getting shaggy," he says broodingly.

"No, you're not," I laugh softly.

"I am," he peeks over his shoulder at me, "I'm much more sleek looking in the spring and summer."

"I believe you," I push my hands through his fur and leave them buried on his back, "But I like you this way."

.

How is he asleep?

Andrius stacked more wood in the fireplace to keep me warm tonight. And I'm pressed against him as I was previously. The blanket is tucked infuriatingly tight. Not tight enough. My hands rest on his upper chest, where I can feel the burning hot steel of his muscles. My legs twist and untwist in frustration. The desire to kiss the golden skin in front of me coats my lips in a prickling madness.

Without dinner or cleaning up to distract me, my mind swirls with overlapping memories of how he touched me by the water. His mouth everywhere and nowhere. My clit throbs relentlessly in lustful discontent.

"Stop writhing," Andrius grumbles quietly above me, "You're keeping me awake."

"I can't sleep," I blush, feeling too embarrassed to describe the feeling in more detail than that.

"Take care of yourself then."

"I can't do that. You're... right here."

"I don't mind. I took care of myself."

"What? When?"

"When we got back, and you were in the washroom brushing out your hair."

I squeak out an offended sound and twist my legs together again, committed to trying to sleep instead.

"Wait a second!" I pull away from him.

Andrius' eyes open and watch me as I hold myself up on my hands and look down at him, my eyes scanning over his entire body.

"Your hands can't reach that far. How did you take care of yourself?"

His lips curl in a sharp smile and he puts a finger to his lips in a secretive, shushing gesture.

"No. Seriously. Tell me."

"Nope," he tugs me and the blanket back to his chest.

"Do you," I gasp at the thought, "do you use the hooves?"

"No!" He exclaims in horror, "That sounds painful."

"So, how do you do it?"

"Sleep."

"No! You use... the pillows?"

"Do I?"

"Tell me," I push at his chest with my palms.

He shakes his head, some of his hair slips forward and tickles my face. Feeling bold, I lean forward and press my lips to his throat. His body goes so still I worry his heartbeat has paused.

"Take care of yourself," he repeats tensely, "Not me."

His hands slide down to my middle and turn me around, putting my back against his chest and looping his arms around to hold me tightly in place.

"Fine," I snap.

The boldness or lust don't seem to be enough to make me move. My hands stay at my chest, held above Andrius' arms. I pull in a slow, deep breath that does nothing to steady my pulse. He says he doesn't mind. And we've already explored each other. Or maybe he doesn't consider what we did exploratory at all. Worry swirls in me that all of this feels meaningful to me only because I am a virgin. But to him. To an experienced, virile male, maybe it is nothing. The need for distraction nudges me over the remaining mental edge.

Andrius relaxes behind me, I think with sleep, as I slide a hand down between his arms that are hugged around me. The silk slip has quickly gone from feeling like nudity, to feeling as stifling as a straitjacket. I wiggle my hips to help the fabric ride up and collect around my waist. At the first contact with my clit, my body jolts. My lips part around a caught breath. I start to slide my other hand over one breast, but Andrius beats me there. His rough hand envelopes one and squeezes the delicate flesh. I whimper and press my backside tighter against him.

"I thought you wanted to sleep," I murmur.

"I did," he whispers back as his hand continues to knead.

I suck in my lower lip and bite at it as fire blushes over my chest and cheeks. The hardness of Andrius' front hooves graze by the outside of my thighs as his forelegs extend slightly. I'm frozen as they bend and hook around my thighs, pulling back to open my legs further.

"Keep going," he urges me, his breath hot against my hair.

I pull my hand back enough to slip it under the thin fabric of my underwear. Even more hesitantly, I rest my other hand on Andrius and drag it along the hard strength of his forearm. I yelp and flinch at the direct contact with my delicate, burning pearl. Andrius' arms tighten, holding me as flush with his body as he can. I breathe deep and hold the sweet, crisp smell of him inside me. The circular, pressing motion of my fingertips makes me pant like a wild animal as pressure builds in my core. I push back harder against the centaur holding me tight.

No amount of contact with his body enough to satisfy me. I grit my teeth in frustration and feel something like a snarl rumble through them. Andrius' chest rises and falls harder, his sweet-scented breath huffing out against my hair. Wetness spreads all over my inner thighs and seems unending. I want to tell him that I trust his control. I want to say "just fuck me." I want to tell him we can deal with the consequences later. But his description of the trance like rut, and the vision of his manhood hold the words back.

Both of his hands grip and roughly knead my tits. His fingers pinch my nipples so hard I bark out a scream and throw my head back. My feet hang down and I feel the ball of one foot graze over the wet, pulsing flesh of his erection. I press harder with my fingertips and stretch out the one leg, desperate to feel more of him with any part of me. I hear Andrius grunt into my hair as I rub at the tip with the soft bottom of my foot. One hand leaves the breast it was lavishing with attention, the arm looping under my legs and pulling them into a bent position as his forelegs release me.

"Be good," he pants breathlessly.

Frustrated, but too close to stop now, I press hard and rub circular patterns on my clit faster. I only wish I was close enough to taste his tongue. I let out a strangled yelp as I cum, more wetness drips down as I buck against my fingers. I selfishly wonder if any drips onto his manhood and makes him as frustrated as I am. The nails of my free hand sink into Andrius' forearm. Fruitlessly, I try to reach my foot down again. Still panting from my own release, all I can think about is touching him still. I want to hear the sounds he'll make. I want to know the taste of more of his body.

His arm pulls up tighter, until I'm held so high against his chest that my face is resting beside his. He presses the lightest kiss to my lips, offering me no taste of him before he pulls away.

"Aren't you going to take care of yourself?" I ask.

"How do I do that again?"

"You're such a jerk," I groan.

A laugh rumbles against my back, "Now that you're good and tired. Sleep."

"I'm not tired," I pout.

His face nuzzles affectionately against mine. I can feel the closing of his eyes as his lashes brush against my cheek. As the fire at the hearth crackles, the fire in my flesh dims. Exhaustion finally takes over and leaves a chill in its wake. I shiver and burrow more into his warm arms.

.

"Do you want this?"

I pause my flour-coated hands above the blob on the counter top and look toward Andrius. He stands back up in front of the open closet and holds up his find. The sweater is so long it would nearly reach my knees. A soft gray color, one sleeve had a hole at some point that was closed with an embroidered green vine design.

"Might keep you warmer at night."

"It's pretty. You don't mind?"

"Nah. I didn't even remember I had this," he sniffs and his nose crinkles in an almost sneeze, "Smells a little dusty though."

I giggle at his face and go back to preparing the bread dough. His hooves sound behind me as he heads out the front door and hangs the sweater out in the crisp sun.

"Am I done yet?" I ask with a nervous glance at the dough ball.

Andrius peeks over my shoulder and shakes his head, "Not even close."

I groan and stretch out my arms.

"Okay, okay," he laughs and picks me up, putting me aside so he can take my place, "Give your arms a break if you're that delicate."

I stay close and watch his forearms flex as he forces the dough into something smoother and stretchier than I was managing. I take a wet cloth and scrub my hands clean.

"How long do you think you'll stay here?"

"Until I stop being angry, I guess. Having you here gives me a good excuse to stay longer too. I can't possibly leave when there's a delicate little human with a twisted ankle that needs help."

"Will your family worry about you?"

He shrugs and dusts more flour on the countertop, "My mother is in a town further East than my own, helping my sister with her first foal."

"Foal?" I quirk up an eyebrow at him.

"Don't you start," he boops a spot onto the tip of my nose before I can flinch away.

"What about your father?"

"Dead."

"Oh," I pause in wiping the white spot away, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," he shrugs at my expression, "He was a bad person. Terrorized my mother. I'm surprised she didn't throw a party when he died."

"Did you throw a party?"

"No. But I went out and drank a lot with my friends."

I look at his full form and wonder in awe how much drink it takes to get a centaur tipsy. It must've been an expensive night.

"He was a decorated warrior," he continues as he checks the consistency of the dough, "Some might say he was a warhorse."

"You can't say foal and then judge me for horse-marriage."

Andrius smiles and I try not to melt.

"Okay. Now it's ready to become bread. See the difference?"

The heat from his body soaks one side of mine as I walk up close to look.

"Kind of?"

"I thought you said you spent time in a kitchen back home?"

"Maybe I meant I wanted first dibs on desserts."

He rolls his eyes dramatically as he plops the dough into a pan and puts it in the oven. I look over his body again and shudder at the thought of his father. A vicious, massive warrior towering over everyone around him.

"I'm glad you're more like your mother," I mutter.

"You've never met my mother."

"I doubt your father was the friendly, funny, good cook in the family."

He turns toward me and bows forward. Andrius darts forward to plant a kiss against my forehead. Before I can react or kiss him back, he has already pulled away.

"All that flattery is not getting you out of helping. Now chop something."

I look at the pile of vegetables we picked and stretch out his name in a pouty groan.

"Chop chop." He commands.

.

The indifference Andrius has to my nakedness under his sweater is infuriating. The cotton underwear that I cleaned against a washboard are drying on a hook beside the fireplace. Heat seeps through his fur and into my back where I'm leaning against him. I sit up straighter to peek at the leather-bound cookbook he's flipping through.

"I can feel you pouting," he says without looking back at me.

"I didn't say anything."

He reaches back with one hand and ruffles my hair. The moment I lean into his touch, his hand leaves me and turns a page. I grumble and flop limply over his back.

"I'm starting to think you're a little spoiled."

"Am not."

I sit up enough to walk forward on my knees and lay across his stretched out forelegs. Firelight shines on the sharp, rounded edges of his polished hooves. I look up and am staring at the book, the cover dotted with little carvings of vegetables and fruits. Andrius closes the book just long enough to look down at me. A shiver runs up my body as his gaze slides up and down. I'd give anything to be able to read minds. One of his eyebrows raises for an instant before he opens the book again, blocking my view.

"Not talking me into anything," he says, and I hear another page turn.

"Who's talking?" I answer innocently.

His arm extends into my vision, reaching for one of the ceramic mugs of tea sitting in front of the fireplace. I reach out and let my fingers drag over the length of his forearm as he takes the tea and brings it behind the book.

"You wouldn't know what to do with it if I let you," he mutters around the mug.

"I can learn."

"You barely learned how to bake bread today."

"Maybe I wasn't as interested in baking bread."

Andrius grumbles above me, but his hand sets down the mug and reaches under the book to gently cradle one side of my face. I tilt my face toward his palm and smile when his fingertips slowly pet my cheek. The touch pauses when it reaches the curved end of my lips, skipping over the gesture as if he's afraid he'll wipe it away. I bend my legs and feel the hem of the sweater ride up slightly. Andrius' fingers pinch the hem and tug it down, holding it there.

"For someone who talked me into skinnydipping," I mumble, "and is always naked, you sure are antsy about a sweater riding up a little."

"For someone who had to be talked into skinny-dipping, you sure are eager to flash me."

I sigh and stretch my legs out again, letting Andrius drop the hem and go back to flipping pages. After a few moments, he places the open book over my face.

"We should make these tomorrow."

I pick up the book and look at the painting of pretty, complicated looking meat pies and roasted potatoes.

"Okay, but I call dibs on cooking the potatoes."

"Deal." He agrees.

"You know," he says slowly after several silent moments, "I've never touched human legs before yours."

"Oh?"

One his hands spreads across one of my thighs and squeezes hard at the flesh until I squeak. His grip lets up but remains, sliding up and down nearly the whole length of the leg before switching to the other.

"I always thought they would be hard."

"What? Why?"

"Well, you balance up there on two legs instead of four. It looks so precarious. I just thought your legs would be hard, solid muscle to be strong enough for that."

"Your legs are way harder than mine," I breathe out.

"Can't argue with that," his hand slides up, stopping just short of where I want it, "Your legs are very soft."

For a silent stretch of time, I let myself enjoy the touches he does allow me. Andrius' gaze is on the fire, the warm color shining along the sharp points of his ears and reflecting on the surface of his eyes. His hands absent-mindedly massage my legs as his brow furrows deeper and deeper. I stay perfectly still to avoid giving him any excuse to stop, until he sighs and takes one hand away to rub tiredly at his face. I slide myself closer to him so my side is pressed against his lower chest to make up for the lost contact.

"I'm thinking about your problem back home," he says when I open my mouth but before I can ask, "What are the odds you could pay him off?"

"Claudius?"

He nods but still hasn't looked at me.

"He's even more wealthy than my father. Even if I could access everything my family has, we wouldn't have enough to pay him off. I think even the offer of such a thing would just send him into a rage."

Andrius hums to himself thoughtfully. I reach up for the hand he took from me. His fingers start to lace with my own, but he lets me grab his wrist instead and bring the hand back down to rest on my thigh. His hands slide up and grip me around my middle, picking me up and laying me down on one of the massive pillows in front of his legs so he can look at me.

"Okay," he says carefully, "I know how we can do this."

The sweater is nearly off before I consider any other possible interpretation of his words.

"No, no, no." He hastily repeats.

I squeak in annoyance when I feel his hands grip the bottom hem and pull the sweater back down over my body. Through the mussed hair flopped over my eyes, I see his serious face staring at me from inches away.

"Simmer down," he commands, "That's not what I meant."

"We're not going to-"

"No. Absolutely not."

I groan and flop back onto the pillows. Andrius' hands wrap around my wrists and pull me back up to sit in front of him.

"Okay, this is the plan," he pauses to decide his words, "Before you go back to Leaven and only if we haven't thought of anything better, because I think this is a risky way to try to get out of it, I'll fuck you with my fingers."

"Would that... be convincing?"

"If you have a barrier, it will break it. It would probably make you bleed a little. Then I can bring you back to Leaven and drop you off out of sight. You know these people, I don't, so you tell whatever story you think will get you out of this. Tell them you had a fling with some traveler, or were kidnapped and ravaged by a stranger. Whatever you need to say."

Even though it is the lesser of my own plan, I look down at his hands and suddenly feel very nervous. But a humming, electric energy flutters in my chest and sinks low at the same time. I suck in my lower lip and bite at it until I can take a deep breath and nod up at him. Andrius holds out one hand with his pinky raised and I take it with my own.

"I still think we should try to come up with something else," he raises and lowers our hands in one steady shake, "But this will be our eleventh hour plan, okay?"

"Okay. Got it."

Andrius looks away from me to pick up the cookbook he had put aside and mark the page he showed me with a black feather.

"How come you can sleep naked and I can't?" I pout.

He snorts out a laugh and drops the book to put his face in his hands, "Because I don't complain about being cold all night."

"Fine, I won't complain then."

"You say that now."

I set my jaw and sit up as straight as I can atop the pillow while I pull the sweater off over my head. Smugness pulls up the corner of my lips when Andrius' eyes roam over my body. The expression wilts when he easily looks away and flips through pages of the book again.

"Has anyone ever told you you have an infuriating level of willpower?"