Sleeping Beast Ch. 08

He kissed her into bliss, stroking her soft body, loving her with his mouth until she begged him for penetration. When his cock was seated in her slender body, his hips wound lovingly in her thighs, Nivid moved Troi's hand from his chest to her own, waiting silently to see what she would do.

Maybe she felt her breasts were too visible in the firelight, or maybe she simply succumbed to the growing pressure of desire, but after a moment's of shy intimidation, Troi's hand slid southward. Nivid's stillness became shock as his eyes followed her fingers into the deeper shadows between them.

He shifted his weight, craning his muscular neck to savor the sight of her hesitant caress displacing the puffy lips of her sex. Eventually, the needs of his libido overcame the visual stimulation. Nivid's hips lurched as he planted his swollen cock more securely in his woman's heated embrace.

He wanted to watch her face as she took her pleasure, to luxuriate in the multitude of erotic scents, sights, and sounds she produced whenever he made love to her, but from that moment forward, Nivid wasn't able to pry his eyes from the sight of Troi's fingers stroking the fluid, welcoming folds of her own pussy.

At first halting and tentative, her movements soon began to echo the growing urgency of her lover's thrusts. With whispered commands, she pleaded with Nivid to take her. Every blow of his hips squeezed her hand between them, forcing her fingers into the juicy, open folds. He held his body to one side, finally shifting to support himself fully on one fist, while his other hand was employed in pressing aside the thigh that had risen to his waist, threatening to obscure his view. Pushing the limits of her flexibility further still, Nivid spread her achingly wide for the deepest possible penetration.

Troi wailed as Nivid began to work his hips, his cock pounding into her. Each brutal, thrusting claim filled her unbearably full, stretching tissues already strained by the thick, hard column of rough brown flesh. The bumpy imperfections of his perfect, beastly cock stimulated every minute crevice of her body, until her fingers became nothing more than an accessory to the overwhelming sensation of being fucked by him.

Finally, when her sense of self-consciousness had been completely vanquished by lust, Troi's hand rose to cup one pert, round breast, and Nivid was favored with the sight of creamy flesh bulging between her clenching fingers. Troi's fingertips closing tightly on the flushed tip sent him hurtling blindly for completion.

With a violent clamping motion of his hand on the pale skin of her inner thigh, Nivid's cock began to spasm, spurting its heated contents against the entrance to her womb as he growled his pleasure. Troi screamed. Her hips lifted, her free leg clinging desperately to his torso as she tumbled over the edge into climax. Fighting his restraining hands, she writhed beneath him. Their struggle continued for endless moments, his engorged, pulsating cock battling the strangling spasms of Troi's body.

When at last Nivid collapsed, his muscles loose in Troi's embrace, her pussy was still fluttering around him. The whimpering of her final screams melted into mere whispers, the soothing hum of his woman's satisfaction reverberating in Nivid's soul. Slippery and sated, he drowsed ---- after bestowing a tender, suckling kiss on her still-wet fingers. Troi's eyelids didn't even flicker, but a tiny smile graced her mouth for a fleeting moment before she slept.

-- o --

When Troi woke from her nap, he told her.

"Lyubimaya . . ." One of his broad fingers traced the line of her neck as he murmured the endearment, wishing he didn't have to speak the words. "Vesa's sick."

Troi paled.

For him to have begun a conversation this way after carrying her up here so abruptly, she knew "sick" meant more than a passing malaise. Before he'd even begun to elaborate, Troi's mind was weeding through her memories, picking out scenes of her friend appearing pale and fatigued, dark circles ringing eyes bright with irritation, the movement of his limbs sluggish and sometimes awkward.

In a few quiet, sparsely-worded sentences, Nivid related what he knew and what he presumed. The curse. His urge to mate. Vesa's exchange of old flesh for youth. Eternity.

"How long?" Troi whispered, her voice tight.

Nivid rolled to his back, keeping an arm around her shoulders. Looking at the ceiling, he shrugged. "One moon, two?"

He moved restlessly at her side.

She stroked his chest, trying to find the words to comfort him. "Nivid . . .."

How had she not known?

Troi pursed her lips disdainfully.

Mayhap if she hadn't been so focused on staying angry . . . or mayhap if her eyes hadn't so often avoided Argus . . . .

Her face heated with the same shameful flush that afflicted Troi's body every time she recalled that clifftop kiss. Grateful for Nivid's distraction, she turned her face into his bare chest, hiding her disgrace and ruthlessly tamping down her illogical desire, though part of her thought the attraction she felt was more understandable in light of what she now knew about the Denova curse: Argus and Nivid were inextricably linked, virtually the same person beneath skin and bone, horn and fur, according to both men. Troi was nonetheless ashamed of her inability to control her lustful thoughts; the logical explanation didn't excuse her behavior, and she wished the persistent tingles would simply stop.

An image of Argus appeared in her mind. Not sexual, not angry, not tired, but as he'd been in the days after her arrival: a buoyant, curious person, with a cheerful, determined disregard for his circumstances which was so blatantly missing from their family now.

Troi's jaw tensed.

Argus wasn't the kiss on the clifftop, or the bad-tempered hant of Zamok Denova.

Argus was her friend, and somehow, inexplicably, he was as one with the man she loved beyond life itself. She'd be lying cold in a lonely grave before she'd allow some nasty crone to steal her family away.

Consciously relaxing the resolve which had narrowed her eyes and curled her fingers into claws, she tipped her head back to tell Nivid she was confident she'd find a way to save his brother.

He was asleep. Troi watched the beloved, furry face as the last of Nivid's waking tension released its hold, and saw the weight he'd been bearing alone.

Troi's forehead folded as her brows drew together, but her mind was calm and her touch gentle as she lowered her head to Nivid's chest. His heart beat reassuringly against her cheek, marking the tempo of fresh purpose flooding her veins, strengthening her body, knitting her bones into armor, and preparing her for battle.

Come hell, high water, demons, or death itself, she, Troi, the formerly homeless, beaten Bashkir slave girl, was going to kill whatever wretched sorcerer or witch was so bent on torturing her men, and then she would destroy the curse of the damned, soon-to-be-freed Denova brothers.

--o----O----o--

TIDBIT-- Molodets= approval/praise. It can be general, as in "great!"-- like when Troi said it to Argus-- or it can be used more specifically to mean "Good guy!"-- while you clap your keg-buying friend on the shoulder. One of my favorite newly-learned Russian words, though, is "poputchik," which refers to the kind of temporary BFF you make on a trip. I'm pretty sure no one will be getting a poputchik in "Beast." Back soon (-er or later) with Chapter 9!

PS-- I'm interested in which bits of Russian or Bashkir you think need translating. Sometimes I think context is enough to get the gist of it-- when Argus & Troi both swore at Talgut, for instance-- but when Troi congratulated Argus on catching two of the chickens, I thought "molodets" needed more than context to make her meaning clear. So, please LMK if you have an opinion-- on that or anything else!