Sleeping Beast

REMINDER- I write long stories; some parts don't have naughty bits, but the parts that do will make more sense if you read the non-naughty bits, too. Also, while I usually prefer the text to stand alone, I'm cheating (again)

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Piquet is one of the oldest card games in the world. It's a 2-player game using 32 cards. Enjoy!

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

In sixteen days, she'd taken over.

He couldn't imagine how the Bashkir people ever lost a battle, Argus thought, watching Troi directing Talgut in the kitchen garden. The first hints of spring had barely begun dotting the earth, but Troitsa was determined to get her vegetables in the ground as soon as possible. To that end, he and Talgut had carried partially-rotted half-logs to one of the second-floor galleries on the south side of the castle and filled them with soil. She'd planted peas, turnips, and cabbage and was keeping her log-nurseries covered at night until she was certain the danger of frost had passed. Then he and Talgut would carry them back out to the garden to be transplanted into the care of the aging scarecrow Troi had found in an unused storage space behind the kitchen.

She was eyeing another south-facing slope, too, but Troitsa and Talgut were engaged in an extended debate over the merits of millet versus barley. Argus didn't point out that they had no oxen to pull the plow, because she was already hinting she wanted goats for cheese and meat, and he was afraid oxen would be next. Yesterday they'd walked the woods for hours looking for wild beehives, and he'd promised to climb up and expand the woodpeckers' work of hollowing out a cavity in a dead tree, so Troi could install her bait. If it attracted a swarm, as she assured him it would, they would then have a reliable source of honey near the castle. In a few days, Talgut would be going down the mountain for supplies, and his list included things neither he nor Argus could cook, because Troi had commandeered the kitchen, as well.

Argus followed Talgut and Troi in through the kitchen door, grinning.

"You'll get twice as many bushels of barley than the same plot will yield of millet!" Talgut snapped.

"And

you

want to thresh it? No! You want barley just to make ale. If we have extra millet, we can feed it to the chickens."

Talgut stopped in his tracks. "

Extra millet

? No one ever has extra millet! That's what I'm telling you, woman: you get half as much millet as you'd get barley. Even wheat is better than millet!"

Troi looked to Argus, who'd been forced to stop when Talgut did or run him over. He was still grinning. For the past two decades, Argus had thought of Talgut as a rather dispassionate, taciturn individual, but his opinion and the man himself had undergone a wild transformation since Troi's arrival.

"What do you think, Argus?" Troi asked.

He could see her hoping he'd say millet so as to put their argument to rest-- in her favor. He cleared his throat. "I think we don't have any chickens to eat the extra millet, so the point is moot."

His answer earned him the same glare from Troi that Talgut had been giving Argus as she asked the question.

He detoured around them, ignoring whatever she was muttering under her breath as he headed for the tower to tell Nivid that the rest of the family was in for the day, so he could let his wolves out of the stable.

Family.

A year ago, Argus wouldn't have believed Zamok Denova could feel like a home again, but somehow Troi had made it into one.

Argus, Troi, and Talgut worked together during the day and sat together almost every evening. Argus and Talgut played chess or Piquet, or Argus read aloud while Talgut sketched and Troi sewed. She'd found some old gowns in an abandoned cedar chest and she'd been sewing ever since. Already she'd made herself one new ensemble from the fabric she'd found, shorter than a European dress, with a long chikmen coat to don over it, and loose-legged trousers to wear beneath. The Bashkir style allowed her to mix colors, which was fortunate, since Argus and Nivid's mother had been a tiny woman: one of her old dresses wouldn't provide enough material for tall, uncorsetted Troitsa to make herself a new European-style gown.

Talgut had made some suede slippers for Troi to wear inside, but Argus planned to send extra coin when he went down the mountain so Talgut could bring back more fabric for Troi, plus shoes, boots, slippers, and a new cloak. Argus wanted her to have something nicer than the plain wool one she'd been wearing.

Before he'd seen her in the Bashkir dress, Argus had been wishing he could he'd take her to Ykaterinaburg for an entirely new wardrobe. No maidenly pink or white for Troitsa, though: rich jewel tones would suit her dark complexion better-- burgundy, sapphire, emerald, amethyst-- with hats and gloves to match, and a fur cloak for each new winter moon.

What the hell had he been thinking, to bring her here?

Argus asked himself the question over and over, though he no longer knew if he or Nivid should take the larger share of blame. Yes, Nivid had chosen her and captured her and brought her to the castle, but Argus was the one spending most of every day at her side, discussing plans for the future. A future Troi wouldn't be here to see.

He hadn't thought too much about it until yesterday, when she'd mentioned sheep. Goats and chickens were one thing, but sheep were another. Buying sheep, if you already had goats for meat and milk, implied you planned to be around when the sheep were shorn, which wouldn't be until next spring.

The longest any of Nivid's women had ever stayed at Zamok Denova was ten months, and that was one who had conceived a tendre for Talgut and spent all her free time with him, keeping her mind off what she had to endure every third or fourth night. Otherwise, very few had lasted even half a year.

Troi hadn't once mentioned where she planned to go when she left here, and that was beginning to worry Argus. Not on Troi's behalf-- they were already hurting her-- but because he didn't know how he'd be able handle her going, and that was now, when she'd been here less than three weeks.

This morning, she'd glanced around the table as they broke their fast and asked, "Doesn't Nivid eat?"

He and Talgut had merely gaped at her. Not one woman in all these years had ever asked after Nivid's welfare. Argus had no question about whether Troitsa would prevail. In another sixteen days, Nivid would no doubt be taking meals with them. And how would he feel later, when other women cringed to see him at the table?

Argus stopped with his hand on the huge iron latch of the tower door, frowning. Nivid was awake, he could feel it. He would release the wolves, hunt something for his supper, and then he'd want to see Troitsa, because unlike all those other women, who Nivid visited as rarely as possible, Nivid wanted to see Troitsa every single night.

Argus didn't know how much more he could take.

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

On the thick wool rug in the middle of her room, Trinity twirled, tipping her face down to watch the fine, soft lawn float around her calves like clouds of mist. There was no looking glass in her chamber-- the only ones in the castle were in the master's suite upstairs-- but she felt pretty. As she sewed, Troi had been telling herself that she was making the long, sheer shift just to wear beneath her summer dresses when the weather changed, but in her heart, she knew that wasn't why.

Tonight was the first time she and Nivid would see each other face-to-face.

After the first week, Argus hadn't tied her, but she'd still been left lying face-down across the bench. She would have objected earlier, but her monthly had arrived, and she hadn't visited Nivid again until last night. It was a good thing she'd been too nervous to try it then, because after five days away from her, he'd been mad with desire. He'd mounted her before the door closed behind his brother. Afterward, he'd licked her and mounted her again, twice more, until she fell asleep, still draped across the leather saddle.

Nivid must have moved her then, because she'd woken just as Argus scooped her off one of the couches by the fire, carrying her back to her room. He no longer stayed to keep her company when she visited with Nivid, a change she herself initiated after their third tryst. She wasn't worried about Nivid hurting her any more, but she was self-conscious about all the noises she made when they were together.

Trinity twirled again, laughing to herself.

Although she'd never had an opportunity to decline his invitation, she no longer thought of what Nivid was doing to her as rape. The truth was that she hadn't enjoyed herself this much since her parents died. Except leaving, she could do anything she wanted.

If she ever got angry enough to haul off and slap Talgut or Argus, Troi firmly believed neither would lay a finger on her in response. She wasn't as sure of Nivid's reactions, which was one of the things she planned to remedy tonight.

She put a robe on and hopped up onto her feather mattress, still smiling.

By all rights, she should be sore and scared, but she wasn't. Tonight, she'd finally be able to

see

Nivid. Man or beast, he'd taught her everything she knew about pleasure, and every night before he left for his rooms in the eastern tower, he hugged Troitsa and whisper-growled his version of the name the slavers had given her. Tonight, she'd finally see her lover, not just his shadow on the wall as he stood behind her, staring at the secret places of her body as they grew soft and fluid for his use.

--o--

An hour later, Argus closed the garrison door behind Nivid and hurried toward the chaise he'd placed in an alcove down the hall. While he wasn't truly concerned about Troi's safety, he never went too far. From down the hall, he could block what he wanted to avoid feeling, yet he'd still be able to sense Nivid in a rage.

Argus didn't make it to the chaise. Halfway there, Nivid tore his control away, something that normally only happened in survival situations. Argus didn't have time to worry, or even to be surprised; he barely had time to brace himself before he tumbled to the floor, unconscious.

--o--

After Argus closed the door, Nivid stood with his back to it, facing the bench. The woman wasn't where she was supposed to be.

His shaggy head turned, his big lungs seized, and his entire being zeroed in on his Troitsa, seated on one of the wide, upholstered couches near the hearth.

Nivid wasn't aware that he'd taken control. He could see only Troitsa, smell only Troitsa, think of only Troitsa. Not that he was thinking very much at the moment.

He took a step and at last remembered to breathe.

Between the torches on the wall behind him, the fire on the hearth, and the candles on the mantel, Troi was clearly visible, perched as she was on the very edge of the sofa cushion, looking back at him. The firelight beyond outlined her body through the sheer white fabric of her shift, baring every inch to Nivid's greedy gaze. Under the loincloth, his cock hardened.

Troi's eyes dropped, widening as her lips parted.

Slowly, he walked forward. With the largest portion of his consciousness and will available, Nivid was more able to control his animal impulses, and he wanted to avoid doing anything that might frighten her. One part of his mind realized she was seeing him for the first time, too.

She wanted to see him,

Argus whispered.

She'd done this on purpose.

Which didn't mean she'd enjoy the results of her curiosity.

Troitsa's eyes rose to Nivid's face as he approached. The brown orbs were huge in her light brown face, but Nivid saw only triangles of white at the corners, not the rings indicating terror. He stopped a foot from her toes and sank into a squat, where he was closer to being at her eye level. He folded his arms across his knees and for a long moment, they merely stared at one another.

He was aware that Troitsa was attractive in a conventional sense, but Nivid's notions of beauty were different than Argus' human reaction. Nivid had been irresistibly attracted to Troitsa the moment an evening breeze lifted her scent from the mountain pass. He hadn't meant to take a woman that day and when he saw the horses below, he'd started to turn away, to draw the wolves south in their quest for elk. But a burst of air tumbled her taste through his nostrils and across his palate, and he was caught. All reason fled. He let the wolves take the men while the horses scattered, and he swept the bearer of the beautiful fragrance into his arms and over his shoulder.

Tonight, with no fear obscuring her natural beauty and a film of arousal slicking the skin between her thighs, she smelled even better.

Nivid huffed, his ears twitching, and Troitsa blinked.

He went completely still as she reached out to him.

Softly, she traced the broad bridge of his velvety nose, following the brown skin upward over the protruding brow, where the dark fur line began, all the way to the edge of the wild, wiry black forest which flowed loose over his shoulders. Then she followed his hairline out to where the dark ivory horns began.

Unlike a true bull, Nivid's horns curled first toward the back of his head before circling down and around again, and for the first time, he considered the alternative and was glad for his lot in life. If his horns had pointed forward, he wouldn't have been able to embrace Troitsa freely without fear of hurting her, and if she allowed it, Nivid planned to embrace his woman often and at length.

The corner of his mouth rose in pleasure and the same-side ear twitched, catching her attention. She broke off from following the curve of his horn to blink at the oval of his ear, which was more like a bear's than a bull's pointy, elongated leaf shape.

Troi smiled and laughed softly, glancing at his eyes before her fingers went to the gold circle dangling from his earlobe. Rather than the typical nose-ring, he'd chosen to put small rings in his ears after he'd changed to this form in his youth. Troitsa tapped the nearest hoop to make it glitter in the candlelight, and Nivid's ear twitched again, making her laugh. Her eyes returned to his face as his lips curved upward, and for the first time, they shared a smile.

She put her hand on his cheek, but a small movement told her the fur on his jaw ran up and away from his mouth, so she lifted her fingers instead, going straight to his lips. They were his most human-like feature, Nivid knew. Though much wider than a human mouth, his lips shared most of the same qualities, which made it possible for him to speak and be understood despite the hindrance of his thick tongue and clumsy cheeks.

Troi ran her finger across his upper lip, which was almost black. When she was halfway to the corner, Nivid lifted his chin and turned, sucking her fingertip into his mouth. Troi gasped, her mouth falling open as her fingertip came in contact with the large, rough tongue which had given her so much pleasure. Her cheeks flushed.

Nivid shifted his weight, lifting a hand as he released her small finger from the warm cavern of his mouth. She met his eyes again. Her cheeks were pink and the scent of her arousal had sharpened.

Through the rising fog of lust, Argus was acutely aware of how incredibly, unbelievably lucky they were. Since the instant he saw her sitting across the room tonight, Argus had been waiting apprehensively for the flash of revulsion he'd been sure they would see. Nivid had seen it on the face of every human who ever looked at him-- even Talgut, in the beginning. Normally, Nivid didn't care, but for the first time, Argus felt the true depth of his attachment to Troitsa. Her scent called to him on a primitive level he could neither fight nor define. Nivid saw the woman as an extension of himself. They were one, and Argus was sure he'd be shattered when he saw evidence of disgust on her lovely features.

But Argus and Nivid were utterly amazed to discover the only emotions in Troitsa's eyes were affection and a lust which matched their own. Argus finally relaxed, letting his consciousness blend with Nivid's.

--o--

His hands were gigantic, Troi thought as he reached for her.

She'd seen them before, but this was different. Without the touch of his fingers on her nude body distracting her, and with firelight and candles to assist, Troitsa could see that the hand approaching her head was wider than both of hers lined up side-by-side, and one of his broad, fused digits was about the same width as her first three fingers. She only had a moment to think about it before Nivid cupped the back of her head, tugging her forward.

When their lips met, she melted. Surging up, Nivid pulled her against his body, holding her closely. Troi's arms encircled the thick neck, her fingers winding themselves in the forest of wiry black hair as she responded to his kiss. It wasn't the first time she'd been kissed: her master and half his servants had been there before Nivid, but Nivid's kiss was entirely different. He didn't smash his mouth against her like a weapon-- his agile lips embraced hers in tiny, gentle sips. He tasted her like a rare treat, like the wild strawberries of her childhood, which she dreamed about sometimes. She lifted her chin and tipped her head, giving him her mouth to do as he pleased. She didn't even notice that her feet were off the floor.

With his other hand supporting the small curves of his woman's bottom, Nivid sampled her sweetness. It was overwhelming to have her scent right there next to where his lips were taking their pleasure. Nivid's cock was really the only part of his body that brought him pleasure when he was with a woman. Even his nose was wont to be unhappy. Usually the women smelled of fear, or hatred, or disgust. Sometimes they found pleasure and his noise rejoiced, but he'd never, ever kissed a woman. As a boy, he'd kissed a few girls, but then the curse had changed him, so for the past two and a half decades, Nivid had kissed no one. He took his time, cradling Troi as he kissed her mouth from one corner to the other, letting the very tip of his tongue slip out to trace her upper lip. Then his nose led his lips across her smooth cheek and onward. Right below and slightly behind her earlobe, he found a tiny dip that smelled-- and tasted-- like sunshine and springtime and sex.

Troi wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned as his big nose and dextrous lips heated her body as surely as the fire's glow warmed her side.

Her moan touched Nivid's senses, and for a second he was at a loss. He wanted her and was used to taking her on the bench, but they'd been unexpectedly freed from the bench.

He'd

been freed from the bench. He turned and sat on the couch with Troitsa on his lap, her feet near his spine. He was careful not to crush them when he leaned back, and she cooperated, settling her bare feet next to his hips as he retook her mouth.

Troi stroked his head, combing the thick black hair with her fingers, petting down as far as she could reach toward his spine-- not very far-- and starting over, exploring the base of his horns and the soft fur in the dimples where his ears met his head, and the firm, thick muscles running down the sides of his neck to the heavy pads atop his shoulders, which were hairless, she discovered. With a sensual hum against his lips, Troi pulled her head back to watch as she explored his body.

Nivid watched her face as he supported her lower back. Occasionally her eyes would jump to his face as though to see if what she was doing bothered him, but his reactions were all positive. The small warm hands touching him were amazing. No one had ever touched him like that, and Nivid hardly dared to breathe.