The Minotaur #9
"What? What don't you need? Anyone? You do not need anyone in your life? You're happy all alone?"
I flinch. "That's not what I'm saying."
"So you just don't need me."
I don't want to need him. In my struggle to get the words out, to tell him I do want him, though, and that he is right, that I don't care what other people think, he sighs and takes a step away.
It feels like a crater of distance, and I nearly cry and reach out, to beg him not to go.
"Do you know what I thought when I first saw you?" He looks down at me to be sure I'm really listening. I don't miss a single breath.
"When your request came through, I snatched it away from one of my colleagues.
Your picture was beautiful, yes. I love how thick your thighs are, and these beautiful tits.
" He reaches out, briefly outlining the shape of my left breast through the bulky terry-cloth robe, before pulling his hand away.
"Your stern smile and soft skin… you tried to hide behind ugly business clothes, but I saw right through your cold exterior.
You are exquisite. To me, you are perfect.
But that wasn't what called you to me. There was something in your tone, in your comments, in all the things you selected—I knew you had chaos in your mind, even then.
And loneliness. I knew exactly what you needed, and for the first time in a long time, I felt connected to someone, and we hadn't even met.
"And then I arrived here in your perfectly sterile apartment, and I saw you.
Minotaurs call it a kink-mate. One who calls to our inner demon.
Your need for control is so strong it keeps you spinning, and you're desperate for someone to rescue you, to help you off the carousel.
Like a little mouse, you heard my gourah, and you answered the call.
You stepped out of the safety of your bedroom, hungry for salvation. "
He closes the distance between us, and my shoulders drop in relief.
He tilts his head down, and his voice lowers to a purr.
"I do not care what others think. Uncommon as it may be, humans and monsters do mate.
It's not easy, but I've never needed easy.
And you don't strike me as the type to take shortcuts in life.
So. I'll tell you again, little mouse. I like you.
Very much. And I already know we are kink-mates.
Destined to fulfill our inner demons, perfect for each other.
I want to explore this with you. If it wasn't so soon, if you were not a human, then I'd admit how badly I just want to be with you.
But I'll save that for next week. Now tell me what you want. "
I don't even have to think about the answer. And he's right; this isn't the time for games. I want him, and the thought of him leaving, of turning him away, feels worse than everything that came before.
"You," I whisper. "I want you. You're right, I don't care what other people think. All I care about is this, you, us. I want to try. I don't even know how minotaurs and humans—"
Zair
I cut Calista off and stalk forward, forcing her back a few steps. I inhale a deep breath and release my gourah. The hum vibrates out of me, pulsating around my rib cage, then up and out of my throat. I keep the tune low, enough to feel, but not enough to influence.
Calista places a hand against my chest, her soft, small human palm flat against my stacked, furred muscle. I can smell her wet cunt. The vibration turns her on. When I press her against the countertop, caging her in and looming over her, it's doubly so.
I cannot read her mind, and yet I know what she's thinking, her dark eyes sparkling as they zero in on the place where her palm meets my body, feeling the hum. She could straddle my chest and possibly climax if she rocked herself just right.
I've unleashed a sexual deviant, I think. She's a puddle of need; distracted, even our argument doesn't deter her.
I huff a laugh. Her cheeks flush pink, and she mutters, "You can smell me, can't you?"
"It is a very pretty-smelling cunt, mouse." And it is. But she needs to understand why I'm still here. That this has become more than just the melding of two bodies. "Do you know why the minotaurs make gourah?"
"You said that word earlier… no, I've never heard of it."
I place my palm over hers on my chest, engulfing her small hand. We are so different. And yet, I know we are perfect for each other. Our kinks align, as if we were made just for each other. I just need to make her see.
I push her hand more firmly against my hum. "This vibration is the gourah. It is unique to the minotaurs. It can be a natural defense mechanism to ward off other monsters. We used it in battles, wielded like a weapon."
"How?"
"I will not give you an example, because changing the vibration for defense can be quite painful for the receiver, and I would never hurt you." I pause, and think again, chuckling. "At least, not unless you beg."
Her cheeks burn even brighter. The pink blood rising to the surface is lovely against her warm skin. I like embarrassing her. She enjoys being restrained, the fear, the sharp sting of a slap. Especially when she knows she's safe with me. That means more to me than anything—her trust.
"But," I continue, "the gourah can be used in other ways." I let the vibration fall away, then swiftly lift Calista into my arms and carry her into the bedroom.
At last, I can finally explain everything.
And make her mine. Make her see that we belong together, despite our differences.
In contrast with how we met, I'm gentle with Calista.
I set her down at the edge of the bed, admiring the demure way she holds herself, all prim and proper, with her spine straight, shoulders a haughty distance from her ears.
It makes pulling on the tie of her robe all the more enjoyable.
The thick terry-cloth robe falls open, exposing her lovely naked flesh, and she tries and fails to hold in an excited gasp.
I get down on the ground, spread her knees, and caress her soft legs, up and down, so gently, it leaves goosebumps in the wake of my touch.
She's so warm and soft and delicate. I could crush her bones with little effort.
In fact, it takes more effort to be soft with her, and if that isn't deep affection, I don't know what is.
"The gourah vibrations can be used for pleasure, as you've learned. But also for something deeper. A ritual of sorts, used between mates. A kind of cleansing that rattles you from the inside."
I swallow, trying not to sniff the air, the wetter she gets. I need to be the strong one right now, so she can give in. Calista knows how good it can be between us, and she's getting distracted by the physical, attempting to grab hold of my belt.
I slap her hands away, naturally falling into scene. "Do you need me to tie you up?"
She shakes her head no. I nod once, but add, "If you can't give up control right now, I'll tie you up." I'm not trying to reprimand her, or pass judgement. I like that she wants me so badly she can barely think straight.
"But what about you?" she asks innocently, pointing to the tent growing between my legs.
I shake my head. "I need to show you what it means to be with a minotaur. What it means to be my mate. I would like to perform the cleansing on you. Will you let me?"
I see the moment it dawns on her I'm trying to share something meaningful.
Ritual is important to my kind. I'm trying to explain everything I've been feeling these last few days, and after the cleansing, and we connect, she will feel me and always understand my true intentions.
She will no longer second-guess herself or me.
Calista will understand that in the last week I've spent with her, I've become infatuated. More than that, the possibility of a future together is all I've been able to think about.
I adore her and all her control-freak ways, and watching her come apart for me—trusting me—has been my greatest honor. I don't take it for granted.
I think we could really build something, Calista and I.
Quietly, her dark eyes peering into mine, she tilts her chin down, and says, "Yes, Zair. To you. To all of it."
Her weighted words fill me with hope. I hum in appreciation before gently pressing her back down onto the bed. And so she lies back and looks up at the ceiling, and lets me take control.
I move methodically, unlike our usual violent, passionate lovemaking.
I spread her knees again, draping each leg over my shoulders.
My bull's head is massive compared to her small human form, and I can't help but nudge the soft fur on my cheek against her thighs.
It tickles her, and in reward, I receive a happy giggle.
It takes Calista so much effort to let go. I'm so proud she can do it with me.
Now, with Calista's legs spread open, her beautiful pussy on display for me, glistening, wet and ready, my mouth waters and I can't help but lick, spreading my long tongue so I can taste all of her.
She tastes so good. Like a human woman, a little spicy, a little sweet, with a unique flavor that is all Calista. Like a honeyed tart, warm and luscious.
I keep licking, tasting as she gets wetter, and she tentatively reaches out and traces her fingers over my long horns. The sensation sends shivers down my spine.
I pause briefly, distracted by the pleasure, but refocus on the task at hand, and keep licking, while Calista fondles my horns and moans. She's drenched, and the more I work my textured tongue in lazy strokes over her pussy, the wetter she sounds. It's obscene, and I fucking love it.
Calista squirms, her body craving more. "Zair," she moans. Desperate little pleas, and we spent so much time in scene over the last few days, I almost chuckle when she bites her lip, trying to keep quiet. My sweet little mouse.
But we aren't in scene. I pull away and let my growl ride the wave through my voice, into her body. "Let go, Calista. I've got you."