Lucero
“Wife, I have returned with our food for the day.”
I fought back my smile, but it dominated my face as I turned to meet Qanek.
Over his shoulder, he sported a rope and several gutted and skinned beasts for our evening meal.
“Oh, those would go well in a stew.” I rose, dusting off my pants. “And it’ll be tasty with the vegetables you brought yesterday.”
Qanek made a face, one I interpreted as displeasure.
Qanek, I found out, hated vegetables. I knew this because he complained every time I served them on his plate.
Loudly.
Days had passed. Long days that felt more like weeks, though I couldn’t quite keep track of time from within the cave.
Qanek and I had fallen into a new normal.
A routine where we awkwardly worked around each other at first, not quite knowing what to do or say after spending so long screaming at each other, hurting each other’s feelings. Now, we had become more like roommates.
Friends.
Friends who wanted to fuck each other.
Just like I’d wanted.
Though Qanek still called me wife. I tried not to let it make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, but couldn’t help it when that sensation filled me to the brim.
He was still grumpy–that just felt like his personality–but the disdain we’d had for each other initially had melted away into something far more companionable.
I liked him. A lot.
Sometimes, I couldn’t help but feel like he liked me too. And a foolish part of me hoped that he’d forgotten all about Carlota, that he no longer wanted her and didn’t regret having me here.
He hadn’t spoken about her at all, and I could tell he really was making an effort to keep me taken care of.
Being around him had become as easy as breathing, and falling into this new routine actually made me feel wanted. Needed.
While we didn’t bicker like we had those first few days, I often found Qanek falling into the slow thrall of depression.
I could tell when his memories began to haunt him, memories of battles and blood.
That far away look in his eyes would become prominent, his breathing would grow heavy, and it took minutes, if not hours, to draw him back to the other side of darkness.
“What do you dream about?” I’d asked one night.
We’d been side by side in his nest, close enough to feel each other’s warmth but not to touch, even as my fingers stretched, searching for his.
“When you go into the darkness, what do you see?”
He gave a soft hum and his body warmed as the flames beneath his grainy skin came to life.
“Death,” he answered solemnly. “I would protect you from the truth of the things I have done, wife.”
“I understand. But if you want to talk about it…”
“I have killed many,” he interrupted. “And many have attempted to kill me. But I am still standing and they are not. That is all that is important.”
Being a warrior in the legions of the Underworld brought nothing but trauma and pain and things Qanek didn’t want to discuss.
I respected his privacy, but wished I could scale those walls.
Maybe talking about it would help pull him out of that darkness, but I had to be realistic.
I wasn’t a therapist. I doubted there was anything I could do or say that would help him battle his demons.
But he deserved peace after all he’d been through.
He deserved to have rest, to not close his eyes and be overtaken by a force greater than him.
I didn’t bring it up again after that, fearing what my questions would do to his mind. Instead, I’d turned and scooted closer towards his body. We slept face to face, our fingers entwined in unspoken promises, and continued on the next day as if it never happened.
It was in his den that I realized I’d been missing out on a genuine friendship my entire life.
Carlota was a user, someone who took advantage of others for her own gain.
Qanek really cared about my comfort, and though he hardly ever smiled, I could feel the difference in our slow budding relationship compared to what I had with Carlota.
This is what I always dreamt true friendship to be, and I had it.
But something felt like it was missing. It had been for days, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Not even as I went through the routine of shared domestic bliss.
Together, Qanek and I cooked our evening meal. We ate by the fire in silence and when we finished, we chatted.
For days, he’d been telling me stories about his life in the Underworld.
He spoke to me of his brothers, though the mention of Nazzar and Xavir was brief. His stories were tales of violence and macabre, of demons on the battlefield and skewering them to death with his claws and his horns.
They were morbid, but I found the beauty in those tales just the same. I was sure he watered down the violence for my benefit, told me only of the tame moments, while keeping the darkest ones close to his chest.
And when he spoke more of reverence about the mating rituals, I found fear and uncertainty in that, but he never stopped looking at me expectantly. Like he was waiting for me to give in, to complete the final ritual that would officially bind us together.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep with him.
Interspecies relationships weren’t uncommon. I’d seen wilder things out there than a human with a gargoyle.
Sometimes, my own desires scared me, almost as much as the thought of what doing it with Qanek would mean. Ugly insecurities threatened me. He’d said before he didn’t want me. That I was imperfect.
He was settling because he had no choice.
Taking that final step would tie us together officially. Completely.
I was still afraid.
Even as my body burned for his, craved his.
At night, we slept side by side without touching, and somehow I’d wake up in his arms, all too aware of every inch. All too aware of the embarrassing amount of desire that leaked from between my legs.
Desire he could smell.
It always made me scramble away from him and under the blankets where I wouldn’t move until he got up for the day.
When we got ready for bed that night, my body felt alight, but like always, I kept my distance to one side, counting down the minutes until my eyes grew heavy and I finally fell into a deep sleep.
When I dreamed, I dreamt of him.
I dreamt of rough hands gliding over my body, twisting my nipples into painful peaks that were begging to be tasted. My pussy ached and cried for a graze, a touch, anything.
I lifted them, meeting empty air, until his heavy weight settled between my thighs, that roughened, grainy skin rubbing against mine like sand. All warm flesh that heightened every emotion and set my skin on fire.
I moaned, grinding up…
My eyes flew open and I gasped, staring up at the darkening cave to find Qanek holding himself above me, arms caged on either side of me.
The bite of my hips was painful as they spread wide around his thick body.
His chest was alight with that eerie red fire, creating a glow around our naked forms.
A single glance down showed he’d torn off his loin cloth and his cock was notched between my legs, his tip kissing my entrance, though not penetrating.
I’d gone to bed with clothes on, but I was naked now.
The idea didn’t frighten me so much as it startled me.
“Q-Qanek…” My voice was breathless. “What are you doing?”
His mismatched eyes seemed to glow like orbs in the darkness.
“Your body called to mine in sleep.” A purr emanated from within his chest. “I scented you and your body came towards mine. You touched me. You felt me. You want me, wife.” His hips pressed forward, his tip sliding into my folds.
I gasped at the sensation, dropping my head back and feeling the touch all the way down to my spine.
I looked down again where our bodies were nearly joined.
The sight of him there took the breath from my lungs. His cock was wide, so wide I knew it would be a tight fit. He would split me open, have me screaming. And the veins all along his cock glowed and moved like they were alive.
“Qanek…”
“I must have you, wife.”
The haze of lust in my head made it hard to think. All I could do was feel. No… I halted those thoughts. They were overpowering. I had to remind myself why this was a bad idea.
“You don’t want me, Qanek.”
A frustrated, angry sound came out of him and he pressed forward, slipping inside me just another millimeter. “Does this feel like I do not want you?”
It felt like he did, but my doubts were loud. I should push him away. Put a stop to this. He didn’t want me. I wasn’t the wife he wanted. I was just someone he was settling for…
“I am a gargoyle of my word.” He leaned down, so close that his forked tongue flicked out and caught me between the seams of my lips.
I tasted fire. Cinnamon and spice. “I will care for you because you are my wife. I will mate with you and only you, because you are my wife.” His tongue slid over the pulse at my neck, and a second later the sharp ends of his teeth grazed me there.
“And when I fill you with my seed and make you scream, it is because you are my wife.” He pulled up, staring at me with something tender in his gaze.
I’d never seen him look so kind, or so honest. “You are the wife I want, Lucero. If you trust me in nothing else, trust me in that.”
Something in my chest heated at his words.
Though I had my doubts, hadn’t I noticed the truth in the past few days?
The way he was trying his hardest to accommodate me.
Before, he’d been eager to get rid of me, but now he actually acted like he enjoyed being in my presence.
Like he liked me. He did, I could tell that much for sure.
And, really, would it be so bad to give in?
Would it be so bad to be a gargoyle’s wife? To be protected, loved, cared for, and provided for… forever?
“Get up,” I ordered, shoving against Qanek’s chest.
He did not hesitate to remove himself from my body, rolling off me and lying on his wings to stare up at the ceiling. His breathing was harsh, and that fire in his chest burned bright.
As soon as he was lying flat, I climbed over his body, spreading my legs wide enough to hurt just so I could straddle him.
That cock was softer than the rest of his body. Smoother. Wetter.
I grinded against the length, lifting on my knees so his tip tickled my entrance once again. I bit back my groan. He felt soooo good.
“Feral creature…” His head arched back.
“Qanek.” I lowered my hand, driven by some instinct that I couldn’t name. Maybe it was the feral creature in me, but I didn’t care. My hand wrapped around Qanek’s horn and I squeezed as hard as I could and yanked.
Qanek nearly roared, lifting willingly, and a rocky, whimpering, needy sound came out of his throat that brought me far too much pleasure.
The tips of our noses kissed and I smiled against his lips.
“You told me that it is traditional for your people to hunt and steal your brides.”
His eyes flew open, searching mine, questioning and curious. “Yessss…” It was a hiss of desire and pain.
I leaned close and licked a path over his cheek before reaching his ear.
“So hunt me.”