This is part two of a two-part story requested by Bryson ThrillHer and written by Vanessa Foxe (breedorbebred)
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"I don't see why I have to practise so much," I complained as I rolled my sore wrist. Khagrim Beastbreaker had smacked my arm with his wooden practice sword hard enough that I was sure I'd have bruises in the morning. "I can stay towards the edge of fighting and use my magic."
"That's not reliable," my minotaur teammate argued as he circled me like a wolf circles a wounded calf. "Your magic has short range, and your main physical weapon is basically a sideways shortsword on a stick. You need to be ready for when the enemy manages to close in on you."
I frowned as he lectured me. The worst part was that he was right, and I knew it. In the last scrap we'd been in, a goblin had gotten right into my space and almost managed to slit my thigh with a rusty dagger.
But it was hot out, I was sore and tired, and anything would have been better than this endless repetition of combat drills. I hadn't even asked Khagrim for training, he'd simply approached me yesterday and informed me that he would be teaching me. Maybe it was his way of trying to pay me back for healing his shoulder wound.
"Then how come you're not putting Vee through this torture?"
"Because Vee is smart enough to stay out of the way." He paused his circular movements, then started in the other direction. "And last time I tried to get him in the ring, he drank some kind of potion and turned invisible. Now, on guard, Ness."
He lunged without waiting for an answer, and I barely got my sickle-tipped staff into guard position before the warrior's weapon clashed against it. We exchanged a few quick blows and parries before he stepped back again. I was already panting from exertion, but Khagrim looked like he'd barely even worked up a sweat yet.
"Better," he said gruffly. Khagrim gave praise so seldomly that I couldn't help but feel immediately flattered, but before I could even smile he was stepping forward and swinging again. There was a clank, and my weapon flew from my hand to land five feet away. He followed the disarming manoeuvre with a quick sweep of his wooden blade that ended with the tip of it pressed against my throat.
"Stay alert when you're fighting, Ness."
I huffed and flicked my tail in annoyance, and stomped over to where my weapon had landed. I bent to pick the sickle-staff up from the dirt, and turned just fast enough to catch Khagrim eyeing my behind. He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed at being caught staring at my ass while I'd been bent over, he just instructed me to return to my fighting stance.
I did so reluctantly, and mostly only because I suspected that if I refused more training, he would just whack me with the wooden practice sword until I complied. Khagrim seemed serious about trying to teach me enough to keep me alive.
Plus, some part of me was reluctant to miss any opportunity to see Khagrim exert himself, up-close and personal. It had been three weeks now since that moment in his tent, but flashes of it still came back to me again and again.
Whenever I closed my eyes, I could smell him, smell the thick musk of his arousal. And I swear I could almost feel his hands on me, rubbing and pinching and squeezing until my milk had let down and spilled over onto his hands. And the feeling of him throbbing in my hand...
"I want you to practise that manoeuvre I taught you again," Khagrmi said, interrupting my reverie. "You have kind of a weird weapon, and you need to make use of its unique properties."
I rolled her eyes at his describing a sickle as "weird". What I used was more-or-less just a long-handled sickle, and I'd seen plenty of farmers scythe down fields of wheat with almost this exact same item. True, it wasn't commonly used on a battlefield, but it was the sacred tool of my deity, and the symbol of his power.
Khagrim's muscles bunched and flexed hypnotically as he swung in an upwards arch, the kind that a shorter opponent than he might use to try and catch me off-guard. I sidestepped like he'd taught me, and swung my bladed staff down to catch on his blade and slide down its length. Unfortunately, my timing was off, possibly due to my attention having been focused on the shape of Khagrim's arm and shoulder muscles as they moved.
All I managed to do was throw myself off balance with the weird move. My teacher immediately used this moment of weakness to step into my space and shoulder-check me, toppling me on my ass.
I fumed, but all he said was, "Better. Again."
Khagrim stepped forward to offer me a hand up, then stopped mid-motion. I followed the line of his gaze down to the front of my robes where they had come partially undone. The minotaur was unabashedly staring at my cleavage, and I felt a hint of blush starting up on my cheeks.
"Help me up?" My question brought Khagrim back to reality, and he took my outstretched hand.
I made it back up to my feet with a bit of help, and my breasts jiggled extensively with the motion. They shouldn't be able to bounce around so much in this bra-- I'd chosen it specifically for the extra support.
My breasts had spilled halfway out of my bra, and I turned my back on Khagrim to adjust it. Sure, he'd already seen me topless, and even massaged my aching breasts for me, but I didn't want anyone walking in on us and getting the wrong idea. I pulled the cups of my bra up, and found the problem.
"My bra tore," I complained. This was my favourite one, too.
"Do you need to stop to mend it?" Khagrim asked, walking a little closer. He was probably just coming to check up on me, but part of me suspected he was also trying to get another glimpse of my nearly-exposed breasts. "We can take the afternoon off and start again tonight."
I shook my head and cinched my robe tighter, hoping it would hold everything together. "No point. We're here now, Khagrim. Let's do this."
I took a moment to dust off my white-and-black bovine legs, glancing up mid-motion to take a surreptitious peek at him from under my pale pink hair. He was wearing his armoured skirt, and not much else. My eyes fixed to one of his thick, muscular legs, and followed the line of it up to...
"Back into your stance," he commanded, and I obeyed with a sigh. We put our weapons back into the same positions, and repeated the drill. No one was terribly surprised when it resulted in him evading my clumsy parry with ease. In the next movement, our "blades" locked and Khagrim stepped into my space.
I froze in place as our bodies were suddenly separated only by a few layers of clothing and a pair of crossed wooden weapons. I looked up to find Khagrim's eyes fixed on our interlocked weapons. Then, slowly, his gaze rolled down my weapon, my arm, my chest. I watched as the minotaur stopped paying attention to our practice battle and started focusing instead on.... me.
My heart raced as suddenly we seemed to be far too close together. Or maybe not close enough?
