The Rabbit Dies Pt. 07

There is a warmth next to me and I slide next to it. It embraces me and I try to find even deeper recesses of said warmth. I don't find any, but more of it moves around me. That's nice. That's very nice. It can keep doing that if there are no secret places for me to nuzzle into. There are blankets around me and the warm and that's great. I don't want to leave the warmth, but there is a vague thought that I should get up and do something.

"Claire," says the broad warm thing that hugs me and kisses me, "It's time to get up. I have to repair the chicken coop today. We don't want foxes in there, do we?"

I hate the warmth now. I do not want to do as it tells me, but it's right. The storm a few days ago took that and part of the fence with it. We've been lucky so far, but there's a limit to luck and I'd rather not push it. To do all that though, I have to leave the warmth and that's terrible. The warmth kisses the crown of my head and I let it go away. I shouldn't. I should grasp it and clutch it and force it to stay with me, but it leaves me and that means I have to leave the bed too.

Amaru stretches in the morning light, black ink on blue skin melting into one another. He never told me where he got them. But I don't mind. They don't matter. Just like that scar on my shoulder. He doesn't need to know that and I don't need to know the ink. It is nice to look at though. It traces many, many, many fun places on his body, pooling underneath his navel in some symbol that has meaning to him but no one else. Well, and me. Usually, because I start kissing that before I take him in my mouth. It's a good place to kiss.

But I do the same, however reluctantly. The bed calls to me, telling me that it is too early to do anything at all. It's a liar, that bed, but damn it does tell me what I want to hear.

I stretch too, working some of the stiffness from my shoulder. I had to pound in stakes for the fence all yesterday afternoon. I'm not used to swinging a mallet, but I figured it out. It's not that hard, really.

I put on a simple dress that scratches at my skin. It's worth it. I'd rather have rough cotton than brambles and burrs poking and prodding. I yawn and move to start breakfast. We have bacon and bread and eggs and that seems like a good enough start to the day. I'll have to start another loaf soon, but chicken coop, chicken coop first. Then collect the eggs and feed the damn birds. Then I have to milk the cow while Amaru sees to the strawberries. Market day's soon and we need to be ready. Should be a good haul too and we might be able to get some honey and chocolate if the caravan doesn't run out.

I busy myself with cleaning up before I head out to join him, hiking my hem so I don't get mud on the thing. It doesn't feel quite right, like it's the first time I've worn the garment. That's insane. I wore this yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. But not before that. That was laundry day and I decided that Amaru deserved a treat so I did it naked. Mistake on my part. There were bug bites the size of cherries all across my back. But they don't itch anymore.

I hear Amaru pounding away as I lug the pail and the milk can to the barn. Heavy, but I don't remember them being this heavy.

"Claire," Amaru says, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to milk the cow," I say, "What do you think?"

"Isn't that too heavy for you?"

I give him an odd look.

"I'm managing just fine, thank you."

"I can see that. But you usually have me do that. You always say that's too heavy for you."

It's fine. It's not that heavy. I can lug it all around the homestead probably. My shoulder doesn't feel quite right, but I can manage. It can manage picking stones and pulling teats, sure as Warren's got ears.

Annette moos when I walk in, trotting over to give me a lick. Always affectionate if a little reckless. We had to take down one of her horns so I wouldn't lose an eye. She doesn't seem to mind. If anything, it makes her look more right.

It's easy to milk her. She knows the routine down pat. I think we might start looking for a bull or something to breed her. Might be a good idea to get some calves to sell at some point, or another one to milk. We have the space for it. And there has been talk of getting some hogs as well. But that might mean we need to hire some help on and I don't know if we want to go that big. A conversation, that needs to be a conversation. That can happen later. Right now, I need to milk Annette and Amaru needs to finish fixing the coop before we start harvesting the berries to take the market. The work is never ending, but that's the point. It simple, so simple, so incredibly simple. The pail is full and Annette moos again, pushing her head against my back. Maybe she's trying to gore me.

She headbutts me out the door and Amaru is tending to the chickens. The coop's all finished now. Everything's safe. He must have worked up some heat, because he decided to take off his shirt. It was a good choice. The sweat traces the lines of the muscles, the lines of ink, rolling across his body like rivers down a mountain. My face flushes red and I keep looking. Even when he turns up and waves, I keep my head to his chest. Strong, broad, defined, the morning heat baked into his skin. There is a wonderful thought that says I could go over there and toss him to the ground, strip him naked and ride him until he breaks. Later though, I will have to do that later. I have to see to lunch right now. He must be working up an appetite, and I certainly could use something to eat.

---

The fireplace crackles and snaps while a covered bowl sits just off to the side. I'm going to have to get up early tomorrow to knead it. It will be rough and uneven. I never quite got the hand of baking. I've done it enough that I can be passable, but I always rush it. No matter. Amaru likes it. Swears it's the best bread he's ever had. Never mind that he always sneaks off to the bakery run by that girl to get some fresh loaves. It's just stuff we can't get here, that's all. Her perky demeanor and plump buns have nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. I'm not jealous about anything, despite the fact that his lap is under my head.

"You're really affectionate tonight," he says.

"Am I?" I say. I stare into the fires, the lapping tongues licking and touching the wood into curling fingers. There seems to be a pattern, repeated again and again and again, on a loop. I don't know if flames should do that. They might. They might not.

"You've been kind of odd all day. Usually, you hate it when Annette licks you, but you seemed fine with it. And you got it done really fast, like faster than normal. You seemed to have some trouble with the bread, too. Yours is usually fine. And I've never seen you lift anything that heavy before. Are you feeling alright?"

"So, I get stronger and that makes me sick?"

"You know I don't mean it like that. It's just odd. Things happen a certain way for a while and that becomes normal. Maybe the heat's just been getting to me. Might have to see what the Bone Witch said about the weather this summer."

"I think I know a way for you to cool off," I murmur.

"Claire? What are you doing?"

I run my hands down his leg and feel his length. I grin. I have to grin. It's there and it's heavy and the right light makes it strain the fabric of his trousers. It grows and keeps growing down to his knees.

His hands grasp mine and pull me away.

I have never wanted to hit someone as much as I wanted to hit Amaru in that moment. I don't, mostly because hitting what appears to be my husband wouldn't be a good basis for the future of our relationship. I do glare at him and he looks scared, so scared of me and the look in my eyes.

"Claire," he says, "We did it last week." The anger goes backwards to stale confusion. Last week was last week and I don't remember doing it last week, so this might as well be the first time we've been together. But I know how that feels inside me and I want to feel it again. And Amaru apparently doesn't want to be inside of me. That requires an explanation.

"So?" Despite the clutch in my core turning my entire being hollow and barren in dire need of some sort of insertion, there are reasons to avoid the act. They just have to be good reasons.

"Doesn't that seem a bit much y'know?"

Those are words. I recognize them as such. And as words, they have meaning. Each one registers that meaning to me and I interpret them one by one. I am right with my assessment. But in the greater context of the full sentence, that simply falls away. That, meaning sex again when there was apparently a session a week or so ago, does not make sense with any statement regarding as excessive. Granted, if last week was the end of a month long or so act, then there would be some leeway there. But I don't remember a month of raw primal sex with Amaru turning my insides out and bruising my pelvis. None of that happened. As far as I can tell from the context, it was a gentle lovemaking act that lasted a normal amount of time. I hope it left me satisfied. I hope it left him satisfied too.

"You're scaring me," he says, "You have this weird look on your face. Maybe you should go lie down."

"I don't think I will. Do you want to fuck?"

He blushes at the word. I'm sure I've said it before. I've sure we've had sex before so I really have no idea as to why he would say no.

"Do you not want to?" I ask. I try to keep the mounting frustration from my voice. I have said no to him and he has respected that, so I will do the same. Maybe it is just me. I've been feeling off all day and I do need to lie down. His length twitches and I feel it from where I rest on him. I hope to everything I hold dear that he says yes, otherwise I might do something rather crass.

To my utter delight, he tilts my chin up and touches his lips to mine. And he stops with that. No tongue, nothing deeper, no moaning my name into the depths of the earth. It takes me awhile to think of a word to fit. Chaste, this was a chaste kiss. It was nice, but I don't like chaste kisses. There are so many better ones to have.

I dart back forward and shove my tongue between his lips. Even if my eyes are closed, I can feel my eyes widen him as I devour his taste. Savage primal need pours from me and it frightens him. It scares him. It terrifies him that something so close to him, so demure and proper, even if I have no recollection of that being me, something so close can be so ravenous. I taste him and taste him, swirling my tongue and his, sucking and biting his lips, doing everything I can to take more of him into my mouth.

He pulls away and I let him do so. I wipe my mouth and smile like nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong at all. I merely wanted a kiss a little less chaste than the one he gave me. So, I took it from him. The gears grind and turn in his head and I don't know why. I kiss him again. He's not suited to thinking like this.

My hands are on him, his shoulders, his chest, his neck. And he does not touch me at all. The shock is too great, the confusion too overpowering to let him do anything. That's fine. I take charge most of the time anyway. I'll just need to put in a bit more work.

I draw myself up to lever our eyes, straddling his lap. Even then, I have to look up. I have to look up to him and he is fighting some urge within him to push me down and take me in front of the fireplace. I don't know why he doesn't. I kiss him again. He needs to let go, let the instincts take over and do whatever the fuck he wants with me. He doesn't. He does, however, finally muster up the courage to take his hands to my shoulders and pull me closer. That's nice. That is very nice.

I break from him this time, shimmying out of my dress and my skin finally feels free. So much scratchy, itchy wool gone and Amaru gets a look in his eyes that he might be attracted to me. I have to take his hands to my chest, but once there, he amuses himself. Not quite as violent as he can be, but this is nice. Simple. I feel that will be the theme for tonight and I'm okay with that. Been a while since something simple happened and I think that would be good for the both of us. Maybe tomorrow we can go a bit harder. We can work up the stamina and the intensity later. But right now, his hands and his callouses tickle and shiver down my spine. Simple, and frankly a little clumsy. He knows where everything is and the general idea of how it is supposed to be pleasured. But the skill is gone. It works and I can't fault anything that works. But I don't remember it being this way.

His shirt comes off and all the worries slipped away. Muscle, tense muscles that twitch with his heartbeat, rise and fall with his breath. I work my way down to press my lips to his chest. Smooth, so smooth and toned and tight. I swirl my tongue around his nipple and he jumps. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.

I have decided that this is now kind of fun. Amaru is new to the tricks and the feelings so I imagine that he is about to have a very good night. My own arousal is weeping through me at the gasps and the moans and all the noises he makes. All new, all loud and contained and all the way down to his stomach. His muscles twitch and shift and his stomach twitches. A hand goes down his trousers and that wonderful length responds with a throb that tortures the poor threads of his clothes. Those need to go. Those need to go and never come back one. Naked Amaru, only naked Amaru so if the urges ever come over me, I have ready access.

One hand is still not enough to hold him in his entirety. But it's great, it's amazing, it is everything I ever wanted. It's hot and hard with thick veins that carry his heartbeat as I slowly bring him out. It slaps against my stomach and my core twitches and bucks as the preseed smears against my stomach and its hard lines of muscle.

"Were those always there?" he mutters. He takes a hand away and runs it along my stomach.

"It's like you don't know me at all." I whisper. My lips play with his ear and he shudders again.

"I'm starting to think I don't. I've never seen you like this."

"Well then, I guess we better get to know each other."

A little bit more fumbling, the good, practiced kind and I align my entrance over him. It's such a long drop, such a long beautiful, amazing drop, dizzying heights of mountain tops and storm clouds. The horizon curves and bends from my vantage point. It all rotates away from me with my head in the stars and his head prodding me.

I sit there for a moment, just letting the tension build. His hands are on my hips, mostly under my guidance and I have my arms draped over his shoulders. I can finally look into his eyes. Dark, so dark, even the whites seem gray and stormy. They're worried. I don't like that, but I have a solution that I am about to enact. I will be in my heaven and all will be right with the world. I just want it to be wrong for a second longer. It will make the second after all the sweeter.

His summit hits me and spreads me and everything is perfect, simply perfect. What I do not remember fades away as simply not important. None of it is important. He is inside me once again and every single minuscule detail is just as it was. No change to the tip, the way it slowly boards and pokes and open we wide, so wide, so terribly wide I feel my hips will break. The muscles have to let go, have to relax so that more, more, more can go in. And more will go in. I flex and twitch as I go deeper.

Glacially slow, I sink down him glacially slow. My eyes do not leave his and the worry starts to melt away. It's not important. Whatever thoughts he had are not important because he is inside me, where he belongs and nothing in the world can stop this. Nothing at all. A quarter of the way in and I stop again, mostly for the hell of it. Right there, as I rock my hips, he can hit a spot that almost makes my legs go numb. He's not moving, but I move for the both of us. He glares at me as the worry is replaced by ravenous hunger. Amaru's cute when he tries to be intimidating. It works, but not in the eyes. It's the length, the girth spearing into me that sparks righteous defiance. Something so massive and intimidating deserves to be challenged just for existing.

Halfway and I stop again. Full, so full and warm and happy. Simple happy that screams the world is as it should be. I am somewhere with a crackling fire and full belly. A mate is in me, so far in me and its hot and twitching and gliding past every fold and nook and cranny that even suggests pleasure.

"Did I ever tell you how good you feel?" I moan. He looks at me through gritted teeth and eyes that wish to shut.

"No. Usually, you say it hurts. You said I'm too big."

Again, those last 3 words trigger that same reaction. Individual meaning that is clear, a grammatically correct idea, but in the context of the whole does not make sense. No sense at all. Yes, Amaru is big, but not too big. He is perfectly big.

"If I ever say that again, you have my permission to hit me because that woman would be an imposter. You are so fucking big and it's the best I've ever had. Horses will walk away in abject shame if they so much as get a suggestion of this wonderful piece of flesh."

"Claire. You've never been like this before. You keep saying that we should only make love when we decide that we should have a baby."

The me he keeps recalling is a bitch. I don't like her. She seems to be wrong about absolutely everything. Amaru is going to get an apology for all that once I finish riding him. If he is still conscious. I hope he is. I imagine I would want to go again.

I hit his pelvis and I finally have to look up to him again. His eyes narrow and his teeth are gritted. I shift and roll my hips a bit more, just to make him squirm. His hands dig into me, dig into the soft flesh of my ass. I think he likes it. He better likes it. He raises some amount of control and the face softens. Pity. He looks best when he's trying to hold on. He takes a deep breath and kisses me on the top of my head before throwing back and groaning with the force of an avalanche. I swear I see the rafters rattle and send a shower of dust on my shoulders.

"That's the first time you've taken all of it," he moans.

If I ever meet this past me, I think I might kill her. She isn't me. She never could be me. I ride and take and buck with the best and she leaves beautiful, sweet Amaru to deal with this wondrous monster by his lonesome. Cruel, needlessly cruel, negligent to a sinful degree.

But all of that doesn't matter. Amaru is inside me and he is starting his motions into me. I work with them for the moment, let him think he has some skill. Clumsy, so clumsy but the size and my motions pick up the slack. I'll have to train him up, but that's fine. Learning and practice and all the things that go into the endless pleasure we can expect from one another.

I rise and fall like a mountain range, putting more and more and more of the strength I have into the act. He taps into something and rises to match. He rises and bucks and thrusts into the world and I have to admit there is something to raw eagerness and lack of experience storming into something massive and brutal. I bite his lip and I start moving harder.

It takes a moment for him to realize that he can move his hips side to side as well as up and down. And it is glorious once he learns. Part of me wants him to take longer to learn, to savor the moments of his inexperience, but then he hits deep and I don't care about anything else other than the ride and the buck and the twitch.

Full, so incredibly full. The hands dig deeper into me. The reason and the mind slip away until it is all a rut with another. Full and big, he takes a breast into his mouth and bites I bite his collar in return. Teeth and pain and tongue and lip and the outline of his intrusion throng the dense muscle of my stomach, I ride him through it all.