Author's note: To those that have been waiting for the next chapter of
Kyree and I,
I would like to offer my apologies. After the last chapter, a friend of mine took the time to edit the story so far. The results were...disheartening. He returned it to me with numerous typos and grammatical errors, as well as a multitude of story moments that, according to him, broke the narrative flow of the story. As a result, I went on a hiatus from erotic writing. However, I finally have garnered the courage to take up the pen, or rather, the keyboard, once more. I have begun rewriting the first few chapters of
Kyree and I
in such a way as to make the story flow more smoothly and, hopefully, more sexily. In the meantime, please enjoy this side story, set in the same universe, while I refresh the story that you all enjoy. Thank you for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 1: Mi 'amor
When I look back at the beginning of my relationship with her, I often wonder if our first encounter could be considered as rape.
It had been almost two years since I had entered Mi 'amor, a small bar on the outskirts of town, and it had not changed much in my absence. Gentle music played from speakers strategically hidden in the small space, loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to not be a distraction for the patrons. At the far end of the room, a small bar rested, and of the six stools in front, two were occupied by a blushing human couple quietly giggling as they nursed whatever drinks they had been sipping on. Between the bar and I, eight circular tables were placed sporadically, one of which was occupied by a group of six men boisterously laughing and talking after their shift at the nearby construction site. A pool table and a horrendously out of date karaoke machine rested on a slightly raised platform to my left, and thankfully, nobody had bothered blowing the dust of the ancient machine tonight.
The gentle atmosphere and soothing music managed to help quiet my nerves as I entered. This was the first time I had "Gone out" in two years, and that was only because Charlie, my best friend and coworker, had threatened to kidnap me if I didn't do "Something" over my weekend. And so, here I was, a place as familiar as it was foreign, doing my best to calm my trembling hands as I took several steps forward, winding my way through the tables as I approached the bar.
As I passed the occupied table, I suddenly jolted as a hand slapped my ass, giving it a playful grope before retreating. "Hey there, pretty boy," the owner of the hand, a handsome, bigger, older human man, with just the hints of grey in his jack black beard, said, his green eyes twinkling mischievously in the dim light. Clearly a little drunk, he leaned toward me. "Why don't you come over here and sit on Papa's lap for a bit? I'll make sure to take good care of you." His other hand cupped his crotch, which displayed a prominent, and impressive, bulge. He was either very blessed, or there was some Magic at work down there.
I had long since gotten over my disdain for being called "Pretty Boy," and had started taking it as the compliment most men meant it as. It was true, I did not have the appearance of your typical human man. At about six foot two inches, I cut a lithe figure, not the typical musclebound look of most men my age. And despite my best attempts at the gym, I had not managed to tone my slightly plush ass, which given my wider than average hips, had often caused me to be mistaken for a woman when viewed from behind. My face did not help matters any. At twenty-four years old, I still had not grown out of some of my more boyish looks, and my soft cheekbones and rounded eyes gave me a slightly effeminate look. Growing my auburn hair out had only made the confusion worse, so I kept it trimmed to just above my ears. Any shorter and my head would look like a misshapen egg, and any longer would have me in a perpetual state of bed head, despite any attempts to tame it.
"Sorry to disappoint," I replied good naturedly, my nerves suddenly calm as I gave him a smile of my own and revealing my left hand, presenting my wedding band for the older man's perusal. "But sadly, I am taken."
That was not strictly true, but judging by the man's loud laughter, I did not need to elaborate any further. "Damn it," he said, slapping my hand away with a meaty paw, though his broad smile showed he had no malicious intent behind it. "All the fine asses in this town are already taken."
"Probably to avoid dealing with your handsy ass." This came from one of the other men, a younger Caith, probably only a few years older than me. He gave me a wink, his broad smile reaching all the way to his golden feline slits, his charcoal fur quivering around his muzzle as he struggled to keep from laughing.
"Don't worry," I said teasingly, running a hand up the older man's arm and leaning down closer to him, a small grin spreading across my lips as I saw his manhood swell a bit in his jeans. Yup, there was some magic there. "If the ring ever comes off, you'll be the first man I call."
"I'll hold you to that," he grunted, adjusting himself to hide his rapidly swelling erection as he reached around to give my ass another squeeze, shaking his head in mock regret. "Damn, that's a fine ass."
I chuckled and extricated myself from him before he got any more ideas of where he could put his hands and turned away, only to find myself face to muzzle with an Equis, and not just any Equis, but the owner of the bar himself.
His blue eyes, hidden behind wire framed spectacles, were set in steel as he literally stared down his nose at me, being almost a head taller than I was. He wore a finely made three-piece suit in a deep, royal purple, which complimented his chestnut coat beautifully. His arms were crossed in front of his torso, and he stared down at me like a disappointed father about to scold his child. And his finely groomed tail hung just beneath his knees as he let out a derisive snort. "I don't see you for two years, and when I finally do, you're flirting with my patrons?" he asked, his deep, melodious voice adding to the bar's gentle atmosphere.
Suddenly, his face broke into a wide smile as he reached forward and, with strength befitting a man of his stature, pulled me into a warm embrace. "It is
so
good to see you again, Carter."
I returned the hug, happy to feel the warmth of one of my oldest friends again. "It's good to see you too, Jack."
Jacklyn Kingsly, known to his friends as "Jack," everyone else as "Mr. Kingsly," and his mother as "Jackie," was the owner and sole bartender of Mi 'amor, and my best friend since kindergarten. Despite being only three months older than me, he had always taken on the role of the older brother, and had been with me through thick and thin, a strong and steady shoulder when I needed it, and single handedly the person who had gotten me into the most trouble in my younger years.
After almost a full minute, Jack pulled away from me, holding me at arm's length as he gave me a once over, his eyes scanning every part of my body. "You look good," he finally said.
"I feel good," I answered truthfully. "Though I'm much better now."
He let out a chuckle, releasing me and wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he fell in step beside me and guided me to the bar. "If you're flirting with me, I hate to tell you this," he winked at me. "I'm
way
out of your league."
I let out a snort as I sat at the end of the bar, away from the flirtatious couple. "Coming from the guy that dated Penny Grayson, I'll take that as a compliment."
Anger flashed through his eyes as he stepped behind the counter and grabbed a few bottles of alcohol, pouring them in a small glass as he mixed my usual drink. "You swore never to speak that name again," he growled, eyes darting around as if he expected her to appear out of thin air.
Wanna see something that will make you kick yourself?" I asked, pulling out my phone and opening social media. After a moment, I found the picture I was looking for, depicting a blonde bombshell of a woman draped over the arm of some famous actor whose name I could never remember and showed it to him.
"Who's this?" he asked. Seeing the look in my eyes, his own eyes widened. "
That's
Penny?"
I nodded.
"Penny 'The pigsty' Grayson?"
Another nod.
He sighed. "Guess I fumbled on that one then," he mumbled sliding the drink over to me.
"Why don't you go ahead and put his drink on my tab?" a sultry, female voice said, and I suddenly became aware of someone sliding into the seat next to me. I turned to the newcomer to express my appreciation and politely turn her down and had to do everything in my power to stop my mouth from falling open.
She was easily the second most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. I was surprised by her height. Even seated, she still stood a head above me, just taller than Jack. She looked to be around my age, maybe a year or two older. Lush, scarlet hair cascaded down her back, perfectly framing her emerald, green eyes, adorable button nose, and plush, glossy lips, which were slightly upturned in a charming smile. She wore a grey V-neck, out of which spilled two luscious D cup breasts, and left her stomach bare, revealing a simple silver navel ring. Contrasting this, she also wore a black skirt which rested well above her knees, giving me an ample view of her wide hips and thick thighs. She was, in a word, stunning.
She appeared to be mostly human, with a few exceptions. Two dropping dog ears of deep crimson fur extended from her scalp, stopping just above her human ears, and a bushy red tail jutted through a small hole in the skirt and wagged slowly, almost hypnotically, back and forth over the barstool. Finally, I noticed a patch of crimson fur that began at the base of her neck and disappeared down into her shirt. Two options presented themselves for her appearance: she had either been Modded, an act of taking magical supplements to replace or add features from races present since the Break, or she was a half-breed, a mixture of two different races, in this case a Regus and a human, and given Jack's disposition towards half-breeds, having adopted one himself despite the social stigma surrounding them, the latter was just as likely as the first.
I managed to compose myself before making a complete fool of myself. "Thank you so much for the offer," I said, giving her a small, polite smile. "But unfortunately, my drink is on the house tonight, so there's no need for that."
She leaned against the bar, giving me a fantastic view down her shirt, a privilege that took every ounce of my self-control not to capitalize on. "Well, in that case, handsome, how about you put my drink on
