Riding Lessons | By : Sealink Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 13196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Zarang
took a quiet pleasure in the distress that showed so plainly on Jaera’s face.
“I have to
sleep with you?”
“De raptor
knows my smell, elf,” Zarang purred. “You wan’ her to
trust you, you sleep here wit’ me.” He punctuated the last sentence with upward
nods and a knowing smile.
Jaera’s
face was smeared with a helpless look, and Zarang
relished her discomfort for a moment before waving to the floor, where he
spread out a blanket. “I’ll sleep down here. You take de bed.”
Jaera’s
helpless look was in place for only a moment more, and then it was replaced
with a look of general malaise. Zarang saw her eye
his humble cot with a disapproving glare, and he smiled. “Unless you wan’ de groun’,” he added, and she shook her head slowly. Zarang settled on the floor, stretching out his long legs
and turning on his side.
Jaera
hesitated before climbing into the small bed. Taking the
troll’s bed was one thing, but sleeping in his bedding? What if he
didn’t bathe? She needn’t have worried; the fabric was worn soft, and the small
bundle that served as a pillow cradled her head as gently as any in Silvermoon. She turned her cheek to the sheets, and became
distinctly aware of a thick, comforting musk that wafted up off the fabric. No
artificial fragrance or perfume, it was a very primal, earthy smell, and she
pressed her face into it, finding herself growing fond of the faintly spicy
aroma. Her brain very insistently
interjected that this was Zarang’s bed and Zarang’s smell, and the thought of being so very…okay with
his natural scent made her keenly aware of his even breathing on the ground.
The Kalimdor night was full of strange sounds that kept Jaera awake long after the troll had gone to sleep. More
than once, the chittering sounds of a scorpid strayed too near the village, and through the hut’s
leather flap, she heard a vigilant guard deal with one of them, its squalling cut
short with a death cry. The noise startled her, and she leaned up on one elbow,
looking around in the twilit hut.
The scrim
that veiled the hut’s single window admitted wan light from the almost-full
moon. It lit Zarang’s sleeping form, his tusks casting
black shadows over his face. His stomach and side were bared to the night air,
and even with the poor light, she saw the muscles of his abdomen set forth in
high relief. Jaera realized that she was staring at
him, and flopped back down quickly, like a child caught up after lights-out.
Her female friends would have called it ‘shopping’, the bold-faced perusal of a
man’s body and what he had to offer. It’s
not like he would know, she thought. He’s
asleep, thank goodness. If he knew I was looking at him like that, I think I’d
just shrivel up and die.
The
beautiful hell of it was that Zarang did know; the scorpid’s death cry had also awakened him, but countless
nights of sleeping with the raptors out in the open had trained him not to move
as he came around. He watched her sit up and look at
him for several minutes, and then bury herself in his bed again. From the hurried way in which she laid down,
he wondered what must have crossed her mind to fluster her. The thoughts he
entertained pleased him in a way he didn’t dare name.
oOo
Jaera
woke suddenly in the dim light preceding dawn, finding Zarang’s
spot on the floor cold; he must have left ages ago. She cursed as she shoved
her feet in her boots and hurried outside. Sunrise had yet to be fully realized, but
she saw him standing near the raptors with a block of wood in his hand. As she
arrived, breathless, he smiled at her, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Didja have a good sleep, mon?”
Jaera
froze, looking up at the troll’s face. “Yes, I slept very well,” she replied
politely, but she didn’t have the kind of surety in her voice that she would
have liked.
“You sure dere wasn’t someting dat disturbed you during de night?” he prodded.
“No, I went
to sleep and stayed that way,” she said haughtily, grasping at the shreds of her
dignity.
Zarang
internalized this and a grin spread slowly over his face. “Must ‘ave been my imagination, den.”
He jerked his head toward a skin of water and a hunk of brown bread. “Drink;
you’re gonna need it.”
He went on
with what he was doing, stroking the raptors down with
the block of wood, which she now saw was a kind of curry comb, similar to the
ones used for horses. She watched him for a while, and after a few strokes, he stopped,
smoothing fine grit off the raptor’s back.
“Why groom
them?”
Zarang
stopped and turned to look at her. “Why wha’?”
She raised
her voice. “I was wondering why you groom them. They don’t have fur.”
Zarang
was quiet, and he made a few more strokes with the comb before stopping and
turning back to her. “De skin is very sens’tive.” Another stroke. “An’ I can look dem
over for parasites.”
“I didn’t
know that raptors got parasites,” Jaera replied.
“Dere’s many t’ings
you don’ know, elf.” Zarang dropped the comb in a
nearby bucket and stepped over to her. He took the skin of water from her loose
grip and drank deeply. A loud gasp escaped him when he came up for air and then
dropped the skin next to her. She eyed it warily, and then looked up at Zarang, who was surveying the reddening horizon. He walked
over to the big green raptor and beckoned her to follow. “Come over ‘ere.”
Jaera hopped
up and started walking briskly toward Zarang.
“Slowly, slowly. Don’ frighten ‘er.”
Chastised,
she slowed to an amble, drawing near. The troll smoothed the raptor’s skin,
petting her, and he moved back and to the side to let Jaera
get closer to her. Jaera was distinctly aware of Zarang’s presence behind her, but she tried to concentrate
on the raptor. “What’s her name?”
A deep
chuckle sounded and she heard Zarang step closer
behind her. “She don’ have a name.” His hand reached back around her, trapping
her between the raptor and himself.
Jaera
stiffened, but it wasn’t because she was uncomfortable
at him having her trapped, but more that… she was uncomfortable at being trapped. The sensation of his body near
her, around her, made her skin prickle, her blood heat her face to what she
thought must be a noticeable level. His deep voice purled through the air
again, and with it in her ear, so close, she could barely focus.
“She don’
need one- ev’rybody know who she is.” Zarang was just behind the elf now, and he caught the smell
of her hair; the faint scent of a perfumed shampoo, and then the dirt of travel,
but also the smell of her own natural scent, cloying, sweet, and intoxicating.
He closed his eyes briefly, battling images of her dark auburn hair swaying
over his crotch or being tossed over her shoulder as she looked back at him on
her hands and knees, waiting for him to move up behind her and slide into her
warmth—
“Then what
do you call her?”
Zarang
blinked his eyes open. “Call ‘er?” He repeated,
buying time to recover from his imaginings. “I don’ call ‘er
anyt’ing. She know when I speak ta
her.” He looked at the raptor, whose keen blue eye darted around in the socket,
seeking and re-seeking his face. Jaera reached out
and timidly laid a hand featherlight on the raptor’s
side. The raptor squawked and snapped at her; she might have lost a few fingers
had Zarang not jerked her hand away.
“Careful
now,” the troll chuckled softly behind her, “Elves don’ grow back like trolls
do.”
“Right,”
she said, swallowing hard. Zarang’s hand had jerked
her wrist back, folding it into her chest, and his strong arm now wrapped
half-way around her. The raptor growled
a low warning, but Zarang shushed her, petting and
gentling the beast until her eyelids drooped in relaxation. He then paused just
long enough to take Jaera’s hand and put it half
underneath his own. They pet the raptor together, Zarang’s
firm hand showing her how to calm the animal. Electric thrills
sizzled over her skin, and she felt very thankful that he couldn’t see the way
his touch made her flesh gather into goosebumps,
although she began to wish that she had pulled on at least her leather chest
armor to hide any unseemly reactions there. Well,
who would have thought you’d be thinking like this about a troll? she thought, hoping that she might have a chance to run back
to the hut and grab the armor.
Several
minutes of this passed, and the raptor turned her head to sniff Jaera. She stiffened as the raptor’s head neared, but Zarang gripped her shoulders, moving up behind her. “Don’ be shy,” he said, holding her steady as the raptor’s nose
worked. After an extended period of sniffing, the raptor snorted and shook its
head, the muscles in its neck shaking. Zarang
chuckled. “She likes you, elf.” He realized just how close they were, how
easily she fit next to him, and he smirked at how on-point his original
assessment had been.
Zarang
stepped away to tend the other raptors, leaving her with the curry comb. She
imitated the way he had been grooming the other raptors, long firm strokes, and
in time, she saw the raptor’s eyelids drowse with pleasure again. She whispered
softly to the raptor as she groomed it, speaking of the enemies they would run
to ground, the Scourge she could disembowel with her large claws. And when they
were more acclimated to each other, “We’ll go to the Outland,” she promised.
She’s not bad, the troll acknowledged in a pause
between gulps of water. Once she knew how to move around the raptor, she was
doing it like a natural. He didn’t even have to tell her to go around the front
where the raptor could see her. He might actually lose this bet, but somehow
the idea didn’t disappoint him as much as he’d thought. He looked up, sighting
the sun’s rise through the sky. Much longer and it would become time to rest in
the shade until the hottest part of the day had passed. He looked back at Jaera, smiling at the look of intense concentration on her
face. It would be alright for her to take a break from being so serious.
“We’ll take
de raptors ‘round dese rocks ‘ere.” Zarang took the lead of one of the smaller raptors, and
then another. “De sun get too hot to be on dem directly, but de shade is fine.”
Zarang
turned around after settling the other raptors in the noon ‘pasture’, a field of rocks
underneath the shadow of monolithic outcrops. The larger raptors he took one at
a time, to minimize aggression between the larger ones. The smaller ones
preferred packs, and the big green one was the leader of their impromptu tribe.
He would miss her when she was gone. That
elf will never be able ta ride her in a week, he’d
thought. But he wasn’t as sure as he
had been the day before.
He met Jaera on the way back, the large raptor following her
obediently. Zarang looked at her hands on the lead;
the right one was loose, guiding the raptor easily, but the slack rope gathered
up in her left hand was held with a white-knuckle grip. He stopped, waiting as
she approached him, raptor in tow. Zarang reached out
and pried her fingers open, showing her how the lead should be loose in her
hands. He felt Jaera’s shudder when he touched her,
but said nothing more.
At first,
he thought it must surely be revulsion; no elf would dare be caught dead with a
troll. But as Zarang was playing the scene over again
in his head that night, he was more certain than ever that there had been a
small gasp. It wasn’t disgust— he knew that sound all too well. No, this gasp
had a decidedly more lusty tone to it, and Zarang
rubbed his face, growling in frustration at the woman sleeping in his bed
without him in it with her.
“She seems
to like me, huh?” Her enthusiasm about
the raptor echoed in his head and he sighed deeply, turning away from her
sleeping face. She ain’t de only one, elf.
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