33. Darcy
33
DARCY
I n the end, Fallon sewed up his own wounds. I’d tried, and he’d sat there and attempted to hide his grimacing like a real fucking champ, but I just truly had no clue what I was doing. After I’d burst into another round of tears over hurting him with the needle, he’d gently pried it from my hands and finished the job himself. He was so quick and efficient that I’d asked him, not without some worry, if he’d had to suture up a lot of his own wounds.
“Not too many,” he’d told me. “But I sew other things. I made all the quilts. And I sewed my shirt and jacket for our wedding.”
“I wondered where you got that outfit!” I’d cried.
“Cherry helped me with the design,” he’d said, so proud and so bashful in equal measure that I thought I’d melt into a big puddle of Fallon-loving goo. God, I was a goner for him.
After his wounds were closed, and I’d fetched him water and a little food, I made the executive decision to make camp in the kitchen overnight. I didn’t think either of us had the energy to try getting him back up again, even if it was just to get down the hallway to the bed.
So, instead, I brought more pillows, as well as the quilts that Fallon had made, and I made us a temporary bed on the kitchen floor. I didn’t think I’d sleep a wink, what with how worried I’d been about Fallon. But as soon as I was lying beside him and I felt the comforting slip of his tail around my leg, I crashed and crashed hard.
I was awoken sometime before dawn by Fallon trying to clumsily get out of our little camping bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, vigilance instantly overtaking my grogginess. “What do you need help with?”
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “I am just going to milk the bracku. And then-”
“Oh no, you are not,” I said, rising from the bed and stumbling over to the place I’d left my boots. “You just tell me what to do. And I’ll do it.”
“It’s too much!” Fallon exclaimed. “Just let me-” He tried to stand, but he didn’t even make it past a sort of crouch before his injured leg gave out.
“It’s not too much,” I told him firmly. “Nothing is too much for you, you big dope. And if I need help, I can call Cherry and Silar.”
“I want to be the one to help you,” he said, so quietly that it gutted me.
“You will be,” I told him. “But first, you have to heal.”
Things went on like that for days. Which turned into weeks. Fallon’s wounds didn’t get infected, thank God, but they were deep and took time to heal. Even after the surface skin closed over, it was difficult for him to get up, to put weight on his leg, or walk. I threw myself into my new role as head rancher, and I was pretty fucking proud of how well I did, being thrown in at the deep end the way I was. For more than a week, Fallon couldn’t even get out of the house to supervise me or give me directions.
Cherry and Silar did come over a few times in the early days of Fallon’s healing, just to make sure we were doing alright and so that Silar could do some of the harder jobs like inspecting and repairing the property’s fencing. But when it came to the animals, I did just about everything, with Silar and Fallon’s instructions to guide me. I milked, fed, and watered the bracku. I worked with Sora to move them from pasture to pasture on Fallon’s property and made sure their barn was clean and dry. I learned to groom the shuldu, inspect their hooves, and to keep them happy and calm while Fallon was out of commission.
It was the hardest work I’d ever done in my life.
And I fucking loved it.
I loved being with the animals. I couldn’t believe it, but I even loved getting dirty. I loved how tired I was at the end of the day, not a depressed sort of tired, but an “I did good work today” tired. The only thing that could have made it all better was Fallon being back to his normal self.
About three weeks after the genka attack, Fallon decided he’d had enough and, despite my worried protesting, he hauled himself up to both feet. I held my breath. Though he winced a little when he put weight on his leg, he didn’t collapse.
“I am going to wash,” he said.
“Are you sure? Maybe you should rest a little more, and-”
“If you are worried about me,” he said, a not-so-innocent gleam coming into his eyes, “then perhaps you should come along. To… supervise.”
“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes but smiling all the same. “Let’s go, big guy.”
I followed closely behind Fallon, hovering like a nervous nelly. He’d recently started using a makeshift crutch for short trips to the outhouse or to have a quick wash or fang-cleaning session at the kitchen sink. This was the first time he’d walked without it. We went all the way to the little shower shed built onto the side of the house.
Fallon was already naked. There hadn’t seemed much point in making him bend and stretch his legs just to get his tight leather trousers on while he recuperated. Whenever Cherry or Silar popped by, we usually just tossed a quilt over his lap.
He stood, nude and immobile, in the centre of the shower area.
“I require assistance,” he said.
“OK! With what?” I asked. He’d already made it this far.
“Turning on the water.”
“Uh… Alright…” That made just about zero sense, considering all it took to turn on the water was to use the pump. He could easily do that with his tail, not even using his hands. I tried to step around him to get to the pump’s level, but he caught my waist in his hands, halting me.
“You should remove your clothing, too. Or else you will get all wet.”
There was a husky, needy scrape in his voice that had me worried about getting wet in a whole different way. I hadn’t been with Fallon sexually since his injury, and I’d missed it more than I ever could have predicted. I knew he missed it, too. He’d made remarks about being healed enough for it, but I’d kept chickening out, scared I would hurt him or somehow reopen his wounds.
“No funny business,” I warned him, still worried about the possibility of worsening his injuries. I quickly undressed, chucking my clothes and boots on the ground outside. I turned around just in time to see Fallon’s eyes turn white as they roved over me hungrily. His cock visibly twitched, and he groaned and wrapped his fist around it.
“Hey! I said no funny business!” I admonished him, fighting the arousal that curled hot claws inside me at the sight of him. Big, naked, beautiful, with a rapidly swelling cock, it was hard to imagine that he hadn’t been able to walk just a few short – and terribly, terribly long – weeks ago.
“I do not know what that means. Is admiring my beautiful wife considered ‘funny business’?” He gave his cock a short, swift stroke. “Funny business feels good.”
I spun around, face on fire, pussy tingling. I bent slightly, beginning to work the pump. Warm water dribbled, then sprayed down on both of us.
“There. Now it’s started. You keep working it with your tail,” I told him. “I’ll help you wash your hair and back and stuff.”
“Would you also help me wash my cock?” he asked hopefully.
“Are you telling me that area is hard to reach for you?” I asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him.
“Maybe? I do feel, ever since my injuries, that perhaps my arms are not as long as they used to be…”
I burst out laughing.
“Jesus Christ. Just turn around, Fallon,” I said, blinking water from my eyes and still laughing. I grabbed the bottle of soap/shampoo I’d brought with me from Elora station – nearly empty, now – and squeezed some of the sweet-smelling stuff onto my hands. I started sudsing Fallon’s back, rubbing slippery circles over the clench and flex of his muscles.
“OK. Now hair,” I said. “Here. Sit on this.” I dragged a bucket from the corner of the shower, flipped it over, then banged on its surface like a drum. Putting almost all of his weight on his good leg, he bent it, then settled himself on the bucket-stool I’d created.
I got more soapy stuff onto my hands, then started working my fingers into Fallon’s thick, soaked hair. My hands and fingers had already gotten a lot stronger from all my farmwork, and it was no trouble at all for me to give Fallon a nice, deep scalp massage. He groaned deeply, and when I reached his ears, stroking water and soap over them, his whole body jerked.
“Oh, shit. Are you alright? Does something hurt?” I asked, wrenching my hands back.
“No,” Fallon said. “My ears… They are very sensitive. But you did not hurt me. The opposite, in fact.”
“Really?” I’d had no idea. All this time I’d spent admiring his cute little cartoon-like ears, and I’d never even touched them. Experimentally, I swiped my soaked fingers along their silky edges, then started to gently massage.
Fallon bucked so hard he nearly fell right off the bucket.
“Ah!” he moaned, hips gyrating. From this angle, it was easy to see how hard he was. How he fucked desperately upwards into nothing.
OK. This went way beyond sensitive. Who knew his ears were a goddamn erogenous zone?!
And suddenly, I couldn’t make myself stop. I couldn’t make myself deny my husband this little bit of pleasure after everything he’d gone through. It wasn’t like I was going to make him drill into me in some violent fuck-fest. I was just going to rub his cute little ears, until –
“Darcy!” Fallon’s hips spasmed again, and his cock throbbed, then exploded. I gasped, the edges of his ears still caught between my fingers, as his pelvis rolled, his cock spewing.
Even when it stopped, he was still hard.
Well, he did ask me to wash it…
That wouldn’t be so bad. If I did all the work, and he could just sit there and relax…
That’s what I told myself, anyway, as I went around to his front and kneeled down between his spread thighs. Raising my soapy hands, I began to slide them up and down his rigid shaft.
Fallon made a long, mangled sort of sound. He stared down at me, watching my fingers work themselves over his wet cock. Water rolled down his hard body in shimmering rivulets. Impulsively, I leaned to the side and sucked water from the skin of his inner thigh.
Fallon’s cock lurched, and before I knew it hands were on me, lifting me and spinning me until my back was to him and he was easing my hips down against his own.
“Fallon! This isn’t… Oh, God .” My complaint melted into a whimper as I felt his hot, throbbing head prod at my soaked entrance.
“Please,” Fallon said, guttural, begging. “Don’t run, Darcy. I’ve needed you so badly.”
“Need… Needed?” I gasped. My nipples pricked. Fallon’s fingers dug greedily into my flesh.
“ Needed ,” he groaned. “I’ve needed your touch on me. Needed your mouth. Your cunt. I need to be inside you, Darcy. I need to be inside my wife.”
I cried out, a strangled sort of sob, as I let Fallon guide me lower. His tip pushed inside, stretching me.
“Blazes. I could climax again right now. Just from this,” he ground out, wrapping one thick arm around my waist, his other hand spanning my pelvis. His fingertips explored, sliding down, until they encountered the swollen point of my clit.
“I’ve dreamed about licking you here again,” he panted against my ear. “I dream about your taste.”
“I’m sorry,” I moaned, unable to stop myself from rocking down further onto him. “I didn’t want to make your injuries worse.”
“I know,” he grunted, pushing further into me, making my breath catch and my clit throb beneath his demanding touch. “You’re so cursedly kind. But you wouldn’t have hurt me. The only reason I didn’t push the issue is because I could see how tired you were. How hard you’ve been working to keep the ranch running. But… Blast . I can’t wait anymore.”
“I can’t either,” I warbled as I finally sank fully down onto his girth.
Fallon made a sound that could have been one of pain if I didn’t know that it was pleasure. He ground himself deep inside me, hips undulating, as if he couldn’t bear even to pull out enough to thrust back in. From this angle, his cock tail couldn’t easily reach my clit. It flickered, tickling, over my sensitive skin, until its slippery, soapy tip prodded against my ass.
“Oh!” My eyes went wide as his cock tail pushed inside my ass.
“Darcy,” Fallon rasped. “Empire help me… that feels…”
It felt insane. Incredible. Like I was entirely filled by him. His cock tail was so narrow and flexible that it didn’t cause any pain or stretching, especially with the water and soap as lubrication. It just created the most exquisite, fluttering stimulation of nerves I hadn’t even known existed. Already, I could feel the dark wings of a gathering orgasm around me, both holes hot and clenching in response to Fallon.
His big fingers moved clumsily but devotedly against my clit. I gave up on trying to hold myself up, sagging against his soaked chest. He made a pleased sound at the way I gave myself over to him.
“You’re sure this is alright?” I mewled. “I’m not hurting you?”
“You’re not hurting me,” he promised fiercely, his hips surging powerfully. “I’m not your patient anymore, Darcy. I’m your husband. Lean back on me. Let go for me.”
“I… I’m scared.” It came out as a sob. Words I hadn’t even said to myself. I’d kept myself so busy with Fallon’s caretaking and the ranch duties that I hadn’t let the fear come at me head-on. The fear of what could have happened if I’d lost him.
“I’m here with you. Right here,” he crooned huskily against the dripping strands of my hair. “Perfect little wife. I’m right here.” His fingers circled my clit tenderly, his breath coming unsteadily, until, him with a muffled grunt and me with a wild cry, we both came together, throbbing and grinding and clenching.
I convulsed on him so hard it nearly hurt, coming so forcefully that my vision went blurry and white at the edges. Dimly, as my body stretched and constricted and rolled, I wondered if this was what it was like when Fallon’s eyes went all white.
Fallon kept coming long after I was spent, holding me tightly, sealing my wet back to his front. Every time his desperate thrusting seemed to slow, I felt him twitch and throb inside and he’d start again. I lost track of how long we remained like that – Fallon fucking up into me while I lay back against him. I was nearly limp, content to let him keep going and going until he was finished, delirious with the joy of feeling how strong his heart was beating beneath my back.
I was so weak, so overwhelmed, that I wasn’t prepared for the next orgasm that ripped through me, sudden and warningless. When my flesh began to quake and clench once more, Fallon moaned and started thrusting all the faster, giving another hot spurt in response.
Eventually, Fallon slowed. I got the sense he wanted to keep going, but that trying to continue coming was reaching that sensitive point between pleasure and pain. He stilled, keeping himself inside me, and just held me beneath the caress of the water.
“I don’t think I can walk,” he finally croaked. “Not because of my leg,” he added hastily.
“I know what you mean,” I said.
I gingerly got to my feet, shivering when his shaft and his cock tail eased out of my tender flesh. I took a moment to rinse off, feeling Fallon’s spill seeping heatedly out of me. When I was mostly clean, I wiped water from my eyes and got out of the shower’s spray.
“Stay right there,” I told him, stroking my hand down his wet cheek. He caught my hand and kissed my palm. “I’ll go get you something clean to dry off with. And some clothes for myself.”
Reluctantly, he released my hand and let me go.
I hurried, wet and naked and dripping, to our bedroom, heading for the closet to find some dry things. As I did so, white silk caught my eye. Well, it wasn’t exactly just the white silk. It was what looked to be an unfamiliar seam on my wedding dress that drew my attention.
I pulled the dress from the closet and held it up.
Yup. I was right. There was a new seam, right up the middle of the skirt. A careful, neat row of stitches, from the hem almost all the way up to the waist. Stitches made by the only person in this house who knew how to sew. The very person who’d ripped the dress in the first place. Beside the repaired tear, there was a faded brown blot. A bloodstain that someone had obviously tried very hard, and probably more than once, to remove.
“I tried to fix it.”
Fallon’s voice made me whirl. I found him dripping in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame for support.
“I thought I told you to stay there!”
“I missed you.” He pushed off from the doorframe and limped slowly but steadily until he came to a stop before me. He fingered the white silk and grimaced. “I tried to fix it,” he said again, sounding apologetic. “I thought about making you a new one, but then I worried that it wouldn’t be the same. Because it wouldn’t have been the same one you wore that day.”
“I don’t want a new one,” I said instantly. I hugged the dress to my chest and tipped forward, letting my forehead come to rest against his chest. “And you don’t need to fix it, Fallon. It’s perfect.”
His arms went around me and I sighed inside the safe haven they created.
“It’s perfect just the way it is.”
Thank you so much for reading Wrangled by the Alien Rider!