I Was a College Professor Reincarnated as a Wolf King?! Chapter 4
#4 of WolfKing
Trevor almost loses it with River Blossom. And then he does.
I Was a College Professor Reincarnated as a Wolf King?!
Chapter 4
Trevor Gates was just an old college professor that was facing retirement down with a scowl. When he's unexpectedly killed, otherworldly beings take his soul and bring it into a new world so that he can end centuries of stagnation. Unfortunately for him, this involves not just a new culture, but a new species, and not all of the aspects of either sit well with him.
This story will contain sexual acts, including dubious/non-consentual, homosexual, and themes of domination/submission, as well as violence and death. The medieval world that Trevor finds himself in is not kind in many respects. If you are not of legal age to consume adult material, do not proceed.
Trevor and River Blossom; Distal Bend, Barn
Trevor leaned back, and then fell onto his spine with a low groan. He noticed that his tail automatically flipped to the side so that it wouldn't get crushed under his weight. The planks were finally engraved. Doubtless there would be some easier way of writing that official scribes had; probably a softer wood or a punch or chisel, or both. He'd done nearly thirty planks, by hand, with an awl.
River Blossom was still working on the last of her tasks, and if he were able to judge by the position of the plank she was working on, she was almost done with it. He had to admire her diligence.
Timber Hauler had gone to bed once the first set had been done.
She was still hard at work, and he could see her checking every single mark three times. It was simply copying, but it was somewhere to start. She still couldn't actually read the symbols she was making, but she'd finished the first of the copies just after he'd started work on the second of the 'letters'. The one to Sir Javeth had been the hardest one to compose due to the animosity. The one to Baron Teers had been a challenge, especially because it was a blind interaction, and because he had to include a whole added tablet explaining that neither the Baron nor the Knight should believe any reports from the jealous pup who would say anything to get River Blossom back.
He started to ask her how she was doing, but instead let out a yawn that nearly popped his jaw. "Damn. I'm exhausted," he said, grunting as he hefted himself off of the floor. "Not my first two-day stretch," he mumbled as he started to stumble toward the door. He got to it, but didn't open it due to hearing the deluge outside. "Damn," he repeated himself, and looked at the bundles of cut grass, including a few that had been sliced open, probably preparing it to be used after the rainstorm to help keep the insides of houses clan of mud or strew it about outside to try to reduce the problem, or maybe just to be used as fire starters in homes. It was near enough what could only be firewood that had been sectioned to fit inside hearths.
"Trevor! I did it," squealed River Blossom.
He turned to congratulate her when he was met with her rushing into his arms and knocking him over. Being tall was excellent for being able to see over crowds. It was also excellent for much shorter people to be in just the right position to knock the wind out of you. He let out a "WHOOOF" as she bowled him over into the pile of hay, giggling furiously and peppering his face and chest with little licks and kisses. And while he couldn't breathe, he wouldn't have yelled at her. These weren't meant to excite him. They were just the excess joy of someone who was learning something new and seemingly magical.
"I did it, I did it," she cheered, reaching around to search for the wood tablet, pushing it into his face once she got her hand on it. "Read it to me," she begged.
Trevor wheezed, and coughed, and then took the tablet from her. Adjusting her so that he could read it while showing her what everything said took some effort, ending up with her head on his biceps, while his other hand settled it where they both could see it as he read to her the rules that he'd determined to send to the other villages.
Distal Bend would not accept new villagers who wanted to leave Sir Javeth's territory.
Distal Bend would not shelter or hide any who tried to escape their duty to Sir Javeth.
Distal Bend would make no war upon Sir Javeth.
Distal Bend would send teachers to communities to improve farming.
Distal Bend would seek justice from Sir Javeth or Baron Teers for any crimes committed against them by members of other communities.
Falling back into his role as a teacher, especially with such an eager student, he asked her to point to the set of glyphs that read 'Distal Bend'.
She almost pointed to the wrong set, but she got it right.
He petted her ears. "Very good. Now, point to Sir Javeth's name."
She did so, and made a childishly rude gesture to it.
Trevor chuckled, and petted her once more. "Now," he said, and then yawned again. "This one is harder. Point to the word for 'communities'."
It took her a long time, and when she finally determined what her guess was, she brushed her fingers over it. He didn't say anything. She looked up at him, worried that she'd gotten it wrong. Instead she found that he had fallen asleep. For just a moment, she thought about shaking him awake to confirm whether she'd gotten it right, but he just looked too peaceful. And if she understood what had happened to him over the past two days, he needed his sleep. So she squirmed free of his arm as slowly as she could, and took the tablet from his hand, setting it to the side. She got up and moved to the planks they had been working on. They were already in stacks, and she worked a length of twine around them. When she flipped the first stack over to tie the twine off, it clacked and clattered more than she expected, and she flinched, then looked back at where Master was sleeping.
He hadn't woken up, and she let out the breath she'd been holding. She set the second one on its side, and tied it off much more quietly. She wanted to demonstrate that she could write, though, and just to be sure that it was obvious, she stuffed one of the scrap planks that had been deemed unpresentable for nobles crossways, and carefully scrawled "Sir Javeth" on it so that Timber Hauler would know which was which. It was still raining outside, and she didn't want to get wet. Besides, Master was in here. That was her place. Right?
She got one of the blankets and draped it over him, as gently as she could. She had to turn it so that it covered all of his feet, and tucked the top corner down so that it wasn't covering his face, and then spent a few more minutes fussing over him. Only once she was satisfied that he was comfortable did she pick the two stacks up and move them to the door.
She pulled one of the torches off of the wall, and with it in one hand and the other hand carrying the planks by the twine, she made her way across the village. Like most spring rainstorms, this one had almost no wind, and was mostly water. She made it across the village to Timber Hauler's house, and set the bundles next to where his soaked clothing was. She knew that he and Master had already gone over what needed to happen with Furrow Plower in the morning. And she knew that he couldn't read, and that part of the message was intended to deal with the fact that no one trusted Furrow Plower.
She made her way back to the barn, and after tucking the torch back into its sconce, she stripped down, shaking the water out of her fur and doing her best to wring her clothes out. The farmers may be in trouble with this one; they'd all gotten their seeds planted and covered over last week, but this could well wash all of it away.
"River Blossom."
She practically jumped out of her own fur at the soft words. At first she looked at the small shrine built by the door, four statues representing the four gods. Every building in town had a shrine, even the barn. Obviously the most important one was Rumesh, but every god was represented.
"River Blossom."
This time she heard the direction they were coming from, and it was from Master. She turned to face him, expecting to see him sitting up. But he was still asleep. And while she had draped the blanket over him, she hadn't undressed him, fearing that she would wake him and that he wouldn't understand.
Not that it mattered. Master may not have been awake, but he was absolutely 'up', as Autumn Leaf frequently said. She could see the outline of it even through the blanket. Master was dreaming, apparently!
She watched him for just a moment, and then she saw his hips shifting a bit. At first, she thought he was simply moving in his sleep to a more comfortable position. Until she saw that he was... thrusting.
Sir Javeth; Somewhere off the road
Sir Javeth was in a foul mood, and the cursed rain only made it worse. His arm hurt. Every damn step his damned mount took made the arm shift, and the bones grind. For a moment, he'd considered taking the ride as fast as possible, but he had two reasons for not doing that. The first was that it would be too painful, and possibly ruin his arm past the point where Greeble could mend it.
The second was that the fastest route, along the road, would put him riding through villages. And the one thing that he could not do was show them any kind of weakness. They would lose any deference for him and certainly any respect. And while they'd all seen him proudly riding through, getting on their knees like they should have, they also knew that he was on his way to Distal Bend.
More than one had asked, nervously, if he was there to inspect the planting or to inquire about soldiers, but he had simply told them that he was bound for Distal Bend. One impudent sheriff had asked if there was a raid, and the tone indicated that he was too cowardly to mount a fight against anyone. Sir Javeth had very nearly kicked them, but simply told them there was no cause for concern. If there had been a raid, he wouldn't have come alone.
That was then. Now, it was getting dark, and it was going to be too dangerous to ride through the forest without the sun.
He suddenly regretted his choice, realizing only then that he wouldn't be taking shelter in a home with some sweet young thing to keep him warm. He would have to either find a cave (practically impossible) or build a shelter. With one hand. And a broken sword.
He was going to slaughter that whole village. He wouldn't even spare the children. No one who had seen his disgrace would be allowed to breathe.
Riding a few further steps, he started to look for something that wouldn't require much in the way of work. When he felt his mount snort and shuffle to the side rather than go straight forward as he'd been directing, he almost kicked the beast. Until he looked down and saw the hole that would have broken the klika's leg. "Good boy," he begrudgingly said, and dismounted. Having to drop off the side, while holding onto both the saddle and the reins was a challenge, and the impact hit harder than he'd intended. Which shook him. Which jared his arm. Which practically made him scream in pain and anger.
By the time that he'd found a fallen tree big enough to serve as a shelter, tied the mount to a tree and then dragged a few branches in place and spread his cloak over it, it was far too wet for him to start a fire, especially without the use of his good arm. Damn that bastard. Damn the whole community. They were going to rob him of his rightful promotion. Everyone knew that Baron Rich Lake was not going to last the winter, if he even made it that long. And Sir Javeth was in line. Viscount East Watch would be putting someone new and aggressive at Rich Lake. But while he was the favorite, he also knew that he could lose that chance if his forces didn't perform as well as expected, even if he personally performed well.
He dropped his head onto his arm, and shivered the rest of the night. As the temperature fell, he felt his fury do something strange. It went from the normal raging inferno, to a cold, pitiless thing. He would have his vengeance even if he had to break the law to do it.
Trevor and River Blossom; Distal Bend, Barn
Trevor woke up, and was confused at first. He'd had the strangest dream. He'd been a werewolf, and he'd broken someone's arm. He started to push himself up off of the oddly lumpy and earthen-smelling bed. And his progress was blocked by the fact that someone had curled up against his side. He looked down his body at who it was and saw a pair of pointed, fluffy ears poking out of a messy braid of silver hair. "Ah. Damn it."
Thumping his head back onto the hay, he took a deep breath, counted to four, then let it out. He looked around to figure out where he was, and then remembered the marathon session of writing the letters to Baron Teers and Sir Javeth. He shuffled his arm out from under River Blossom and then folded his blanket on top of her. He had to piss. And apparently morning wood was a thing for him now.
For a few moments, he made motions toward it, as if he could find a way to stuff it back into its sheath or perhaps will it to calm down. Neither of those ideas seemed plausible. He grumbled to himself as he walked over to the door of the bar, pushing it to the side so that he could walk outside into the mud.
He was already annoyed at the fact that he'd woken up in a barn. And he was annoyed that he'd woken up with River Blossom tucked up against his side, even if she'd separated herself with two blankets from him. He was annoyed at having had to deal with an idiot of a Knight who refused to back down when he had no legal right. He was annoyed that he had to piss with this damn thing bobbing around in front of him like a sexual dowsing rod. He was annoyed that he had no sandals. He was annoyed because doubtless the rain had washed away all of the ash from that massive fire, a primary source for potassium, which he could have used to make all sorts of things. And he was annoyed that every damn person seemed to be out and about, but all of them were focused on the fields.
He made his way into the trees and relieved himself, having to fight a lot more than he was used to in order to keep the damn thing from pointing up and splashing all over him. "Goddamn stupid marking custom. Mark myself, I'm a slave of myself, is that how that works? Goddamn stupid rain, making mud all over the place. Goddamn stupid clothes, need to invent pants or at least get them made for me. Goddamn stupid world. Goddamn stupid nobility and their goddamn stupid distribution of wealth."
He had no idea why he wasn't calming down. Every time he'd ever vented like this, it felt good just to get it out there. Once expressed, the frustration ebbed and he could think rationally about the problem. Now? He could barely keep from screaming in sheer almost berserker rage. Could he even be a berserker in a world without any bear skins?
He saw Timber Hauler at the entrance of the barn, looking inside, then pulling his head back out and turning until he found Trevor. "Oh, there you are, My-"
Trevor pointed at him, snarling. "You say 'my lord' and I am going to get very angry and I do not think that I can control myself right now. What is it?"
Timber Hauler actually backed up a few steps, obviously shocked. "W..we have a problem," he stammered, almost putting out another reflexive title. "The fields were washed away last night. All of this year's crops are gone. We thought that the last of the heavy rains had come and gone. We have some seed left, but not enough to plant a full crop. It will take days to prepare the soil in the first place, but we need to do so quickly."
Trevor clenched and unclenched his fists several times, feeling his shirt constricting his powerful chest as he sucked in deep lungfuls of air, and then let it out. "How much food do we have on hand?"
Timber Hauler shook his head, "That's not the issue, the issue is that we will not have anything to get us through autumn and winter. We have enough food to last us through the fall harvest at least, perhaps a few weeks past that."
Trevor closed his eyes. If he closed his eyes perhaps the damned sun wouldn't be in them and it wouldn't annoy him so much. "I will need to think about it. What of Furrow Plower?"
Timber Hauler didn't sound like he was getting any closer. "He left with the messages, just as we discussed. I told him to go to Sir Javeth first, then Baron Teers, and to not leave until he had a written response."
Trevor nodded again and lifted his nose up into the air, sucking in a deep breath and then blowing it out. "Your immediate priorities are the fields, and then hunting as much game as possible, and then having the children gather clay from the river bank. At least three buckets full. Soft, fine clay. No rocks. Not even sand."
Timber Hauler gulped, and started to say something, then shut his mouth. It would be a sore subject, doubtless, and therefore wise not to bring it up. He knew, or at least thought that he knew what the problem was, but doubted that his new Lord would like to hear the answer right now. And in spite of Trevor's words about 'never hold anything back, especially if you think I may not like it', Timber Hauler had seen wolves get like this before. It never boded well. "One last thing," he said. "One of Three Feather's... Family will be by soon now that you're up. He will be bringing material to measure you for sandals. Trevor."
Nothing in the larger wolf's face changed.
"Trevor."
The bigger wolf looked down at him, scowling.
Timber Hauler said, "Be gentle with this one. Exceptionally so. He is the finest craftsman in the village, and he frightens easily. Specifically, he is frightened of you."
Trevor nodded. "Anything else?"
Timber Hauler shook his head. "I'll get them started with plowing. I already know where the plow is, one of the children found it last night. Oh, why were there table scraps and twigs in your room?"
Trevor growled, actually baring his teeth. "River Blossom."
For just an instant, Timber Hauler thought about saying that didn't explain anything. Then he decided that discretion was the better part of valor on that topic at the moment. "Of course."
Trevor shouldered past him. "I'll be in the barn for now. I won't get in the way of anyone who's cleaning the room out or working in the fields."
And with that, Trevor stomped his way back inside.
He moved over to where the pile of straw by the door was, and scrubbed the mud off of his feet with it as best he could, then went over to the spare wood planks that they hadn't needed to use, and picked the awl up once more.
If he could work, perhaps he could get calmer. He did his best to focus, and bring up his list of tasks. He was glad that he'd spent all night last night... no. Two nights ago. All night two nights ago working on the project plan that he'd spent so long on. Now he needed to come up with the list of materials to make it all work.
He scratched and scrawled, sometimes copying designs from his head onto the planks as best he could from what he could 'look up', sometimes just putting a word down. He heard someone come through the door and ignored them, assuming that they were coming to get some tool or other.
"Excuse me, Trevor," someone quietly said, and Trevor finally looked up, snapping his head toward the source. A slender black wolf was kneeling a few paces away with a large mat of leather laid out on the ground in front of him. "Why are you kneeling," Trevor growled, feeling his hackles raise. If he had one more person bow and scrape to him he would rip their ears off and use them as weather vanes!
The smaller wolf flinched, but didn't move. "Because it's easier for me to mark the leather you're standing on if I kneel," he almost whispered.
Trevor grunted. "Right. Sandals. Give me a moment. Let me brush my feet off." He stood and went to the pile of straw, once more scrubbing at his soles until all of the dried mud had flaked off. Brushing his hands off in the pile and then on his shirt, he walked back over to where Awl was waiting.
The measurement process was simple enough, with a bit more than Trevor had initially expected in the process. The longer it took though, the more Trevor just wanted to scruff the little guy and throw him into the street. He had work to do. But he restrained himself and stood there for the time required. Once Awl indicated that he was finished, Trevor stood back, and then grunted a 'thank you' before getting back to his scrawling.
The smaller wolf left silently, and Trevor went back into his surly growling and working.
Which was when he felt something hard and sharp impact him on the shoulder. He snarled, whirling on it, arms wide to grapple or rip whoever had just attacked him to shreds.
River Blossom had sat up, and she was scowling at him.
He looked down at the floor, seeing the tablet that she'd worked on. That must have been what hit him, and then he looked back up at her.
She threw the blanket off, and stomped over to him, growling just as much as he was. "I have had just about enough of this," she declared.
His lip curled up, baring his teeth in warning. "Enough of what?"
She shoved a finger into his chest, and the act of aggression on her part fed into his.
His hand snapped out, not even thinking about it, and curled his fingers around her throat as he advanced on her. He managed to stop himself from squeezing, but even then, she wasn't backing down.
"I don't know about where you came from, with your black trees and blue leaves and magical food and your lack of females," she said, and the sheer strangeness of it knocked him off of his anger, and into confusion. She stabbed her finger into his chest again, "You're a wolf now. And you're going to start acting like a wolf, even if I have to kill myself to make it happen," she declared, and then practically ripped his kilt off of his hips.
He had never seen her get this aggressive toward anyone, let alone him. The demure young woman was gone, and she was replaced by someone that he never even knew existed. He was about to ask her what the hell she was thinking when she grabbed his erection and pulled on it. "You're going to take me. And you're going to do it now. Because if you don't, you're going to kill someone."
He just stood there, throbbing and shocked at that declaration. He wanted her. He wanted exactly what she was demanding. "River Blossom, I will not-" he started to say, when she started to stroke him, and he almost collapsed as his knees felt like giving way.
She tugged her own skirt loose and let it fall to the floor, and then shoved him onto his back. "You WILL," she almost screamed at him even as he yelped.
His head hit the floor hard enough that he saw stars in his vision for a moment. He felt her climbing on top of him, and he fumbled weakly at her legs, trying to push her back.
She fell on top of him, still trying to get further forward, up his frame, and the more they struggled with each other, the more desperate he was to not give in, the more desperately she fought to make him. She ended up losing.
He was bigger, stronger, and he'd had more training and experience. He pinned her to the floor, panting hard as he pushed her shoulders down into the barn floor, while her legs were still spread around him from her attempt to get on top.
She had her hands on his wrists, trying to break the hold.
He felt those raging desires inside of him screaming through his mind and veins. Kill the bitch for attacking you. Take her, she's yours.
She seemed to realize that he had won the fight completely, because she dropped her hands off of his wrists, and set them next to her head, then exposed her throat. "Kill me," she almost spat. "You're going to kill us all, anyway. Start with me. Then I don't have to watch."
"I am fighting to save you," he screamed at her.
"You're fighting your nature," she screamed back.
He couldn't actually argue with that. Which didn't stop his rage in the least. He squeezed her throat. A warning, but for what, he couldn't say.
She tensed up, tears running down her cheeks. "You aren't where you came from any more," she said, quietly, resigned to her fate. "You're so determined to make things right that you can't deal with how they are."
He shook his head, still fighting just to hold still. One hand was braced on the floor next to her head, the other on her neck, threatening to cut her air off and silence her for good.
She put her hands against his thumb and three other fingers, and started to push them together.
Instantly he opened his grip, but she just pushed harder.
"Do it," she demanded.
He ripped his hand away, scrambling off of her, breathing hard, sitting and pushing back until he could regain control of himself. "River Blossom, go away," he warned.
She sat up, and crossing her arms in front of herself, she pulled her shirt off and flung it to the side. "No," she said, and stood up. She walked toward him, and his eyes snapped to her hips. Round. Perfect to hold.
His body knew that. Her folds were right there, and he could smell her. He wanted her. His body wanted her.
She stopped a pace away from him, and then squatted down. The pose put her completely on display, her heat right there, waiting for him. "I am not going to let you destroy yourself. You need this. You don't know why. But you do. And if you don't, you're going to rip someone's throat out before you even realize it. Probably mine. Because I am not leaving you." She then rolled onto her hands and knees, spreading her thighs and pushing them back toward him. "Now either take me, or kill me. If you won't, I'll throw myself into the river."
"Do it then," he snarled in rage. How dare this... this... He couldn't even say the word without hating himself. But he couldn't reject it for some reason. She was his. And yet he refused to accept that. He closed his eyes, trying to focus, to center himself. He couldn't, and he couldn't understand why.
"Yes, Trevor," she said, and he heard her standing, and walking to the door.
"Stop," he snapped. But she didn't. Footfalls still progressed toward the door, and he heard it creak as she pulled it open. "I said stop," he yelled.
"No. Either you're my Master, or you're not. You don't get to order me if I'm not your slave." She'd stopped, with the door open.
He opened his eyes, staring at her as she looked back.
Yes, she was still crying, but she also stood proudly. "Either you're my Master, or you're not," she repeated. "Which is it? Because if my Master tells me to return, I will. But if you're not my Master, then you have no control over me. And if you're my Master, then you need to start acting like it."
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do. He smelled her fear, and her desire for him, and both of them made uncomfortable needs war through his mind. "You're really going to do it, aren't you," he asked.
"Yes."
"But why?"
"Because I will not watch you destroy yourself. I love you too much."
"You can't love me," he said.
"No. You can't accept my love because you're too busy wallowing in self hate."
Trevor opened his mouth to say something back, bitter and heated, but anything that he wanted to say, simply wouldn't come out. He was still furious with her. And that rage terrified him. Because the more that he looked, the more that he realized that she was right. He hated himself. For what he had done to her.
But she didn't hate it. She wanted it to be that way. And while he couldn't understand that, he could accept it.
And perhaps that was the key. Because as soon as he decided that he could accept it, much of the rage started to ebb. Not all of it. He could still feel his frustration and anger, but it wasn't an overwhelming tidal wave.
"Come here," he said gently.
She shut the door, and then practically flung herself into his arms, crying and licking his face and lips as she did so.
It knocked him back onto the floor with a grunt of impact, his hands moving to her hips. Instincts that he never had told him what to do, and he resisted them out of fear at the unknown.
"Let me," she whispered as she reached for him, slipping her gentle and soft fingers around him once more, just like the first time that she'd touched him. This time, he didn't stop her.
She lifted up, then set his girth against her entrance, slowly pushing herself back as she felt his body finally get what it needed. His slave's body serving his needs. She whined in the back of her throat as she felt him spreading her open, pushing her face into his chest as she stopped to adjust her knees, and then resumed slipping him deeper into her willing entrance.
Trevor gritted his teeth at just how tight she felt. He had nothing to compare it to. And as much as part of him still screamed that this was wrong, far more of him was screaming that it was right. His hand on her butt clenched, and then pulled her down further.
"Yes, Master," she gasped out as she felt that, her tail brushing his knees as she sank further down, and then she started to pull off. She felt his grip tighten, and whispered, "Let me," even as she set up a gentle, slow rock. Up and down, showing him that for the act to continue, she had to withdraw him slightly, if only to give him more.
Any worries that he had about her resenting the act were permanently erased. He couldn't exactly say why. Maybe it was her breathy gasps, or the way that she was clutching at his sides, maybe it was the way that her wetness seemed to cling to him, but he could finally tell that she didn't hate him. Perhaps she didn't love him like she claimed, but she certainly didn't hate him. Trevor was braced back against his hand while the other remained on her hips, not knowing just what tempo this new dance needed to be performed at.
River Blossom did. Or at least, she determined the pace that she wanted to go at, and he didn't stop her. She set her hands on his shoulders, and then looked at his shocked face, and flushed slightly. "You really didn't have any females where you came from, did you," she whispered.
"No, we..." He gave up. He had no idea how to explain the truth to her, especially when he was working deeper into her and she felt so good around him. Maybe he'd get around to it later, maybe he'd just never find the words. Either way, it wasn't important now. He finally started to sense the pattern and move with it, and she pulled his hands to her chest.
Squeezing her breasts, he finally moved his lips forward, kissing her. It was a clumsy touch. Thankfully for him, he had little practice without a muzzle, so he didn't have to re-learn how to do it.
She had never done this before, it seemed, and after the initial awkwardness she apparently loved it. Her hands moved to his cheeks, holding him there while she drove herself more and more onto his excitement.
And whether he liked it or not, it was excitement. It was passion and delight and things that he couldn't name. She started to break the kiss off, panting, whispering things that he didn't understand. What he did understand was that things were starting to happen. He couldn't detach himself enough to name the effects, whatever scientific objectivity he had was gone for the moment. And perhaps that was for the best.
He closed his eyes, and felt her grinding against him, finally letting out a moan of pure pleasure. He didn't even realize that he had moved, consciously, until he heard her laugh. He opened his eyes, ready to see what it was that she was mocking. But her head was on the floor of the barn now, which it hadn't been before. And then he realized that she wasn't the one who was moving against him. He was on top. And he was thrusting into her with every last bit of urgency and need that she'd claimed his body had.
Each motion forward came with a deep sound from him, and she kissed at his chest, then his neck, then his mouth, and her arms curled around his chest to draw him in against her. "Trevor," she whispered, the sound ending in a gasp as he felt her clench down around him, and a quiver traced through her body as she arched up into him. Her heels kicked at his thighs, spurring him downward.
Something was getting in the way of him pushing in fully, and she seemed to need that. So he just pushed harder. Right up until he felt her opening part a bit wider, and then clutch at his knot, sealing himself within her body, and he let out a groan as his vision went absolutely white.
Every nerve in his body activated in the best possible way, the unfamiliar tingling that focused on his glans being alien and delicious and right in a way that he would need years to explain. For some reason that he couldn't pronounce, he started to laugh as he felt the surge and clench of his body within her. As he emptied all of his need and tension into her body.
He sank down onto, and into her, both her arms and her heat, going slack and panting, chuckles making his shoulders shake as he held her.
River Blossom trailed her fingers along his nape and shoulders, scratching lightly at her Master. "Why are you laughing," she asked, gently, and not a little smugly.
"There is a joke in my old world, about things of beauty and people who can't appreciate them," was all he could say as he lay with her, hands petting her without really knowing where to go.
"You'll learn," she said, and then tucked her muzzle under his chin, kissing and licking at his throat. "Thank you," she added. "I'm not in season. But thank you for planting your seed so deep in me. I... I like it. I want it. Your pups."
Trevor didn't really know what to say about that. As much as he had enjoyed the physical pleasures of the moment, he could only marvel at the sudden clarity, and the lack of all of his anger and tension was practically a drug. Was this why most men needed sex so much? For this moment of simple relief and reflection? He gave her forehead a kiss and then her lips. "We'll see what happens. I have never wanted children before, but we shall see what happens."
River Blossom reached a hand out away from him and fumbled, looking up and to her right, then her left, and pulled the plank that she'd thrown at him closer. She found the word for communities, and then showed it to him. "This is the word you asked me to point to before you fell asleep last night," she said, "right?"
He had been petting her soft fur the whole time, and laughed. "I honestly don't remember what I'd asked you to point to. If the word is 'communities', then you're right." He trailed that last phrase off, as something occurred to him. Something about seasons. Something that she'd said. "River Blossom, you said something. Something about pups and season. Say that again."
She tilted her head at him. "That I want your pups but I'm not in season?"
He shook his head. "Yes. I mean no. I mean." He huffed a breath. "There was something else. Say exactly what you said to me. Word for word."
She blushed a bit, the way that anyone who speaks while the passion is settling does when they later recall the words and realize they wouldn't have said them soberly. "I... I said that I wasn't in season, but thank you for planting your seed so deep in me. That I liked it-"
"THAT'S IT!" He jerked up, making the both of them yelp in pain as he felt his knot locked inside of her still, and it was very much not going to allow him to pull free of her for a while. "Sorry," he said, kissing her, "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just. I realized how we can fix all of this. How we can save the crops. All of them."
She looked up at him, utterly confused. "You're... going to... spread your seed on the crops? Is that a spell you have?"
"Huh? Oh! No." He laughed, and kissed her. "No, I have something that I think you'll find more amazing than spells." He looked down at her, and then down their bodies to where he was joined with her. "How... uh... How long are we... together?"
She shrugged. "Until your body decides that it's time to let go?"
He huffed a laugh, and then rolled over onto his back, pulling her so that her lighter frame was on top of him. She hadn't complained, but he could only imagine that it would be more comfortable if his bulk wasn't mashing her into the floor. "Would you like to hear about the world I came from, and what I did, and how we lived?"
Furrow Plower; Road to Javeth Point
Furrow Plower slapped the flank of his mount, because the damn thing had slowed again. He had to get to Javeth Point as quickly as possible, to stop this madness, and to reclaim his bitch. He wouldn't let this stand. He'd had his eye on her for a year, and the stupid woman was playing hard to get. It was a game. All women played that game. It just showed him that he had to chase them more to get what they both wanted.
He'd already made his way through one of the other villages, and hadn't even slowed to ask how long ago Sir Javeth had passed through. Doubtless by this point he was home and he was forming an army to come back and settle this once and for all. And once Sir Javeth had put this worthless upstart out of everyone's misery, he would probably kill that upstart traitor Timber Hauler as well. If Sir Javeth didn't take Autumn Leaf for his own slave, maybe he would let Furrow Plower have her. If nothing else, she was a fertile little thing.
They would have to kill the pups, of course. Traitors and their whole line had to be expunged. That was the way of things. Leave no disloyalty or thread of it behind. But Autumn Leaf couldn't be blamed for her mate's decisions as sheriff. By the law, she should be killed as well, but perhaps Furrow Plower could convince Sir Javeth that she could be spared. Doubtless they would need to replenish the population of the village after the purge.
The klika stumbled and then regained it's footing, and Furrow Plower growled as he let the beast slow and then stop. The damned thing was tired, and needed to rest. He climbed off of it, and started drawing it down the road, walking along it with the reins in hand. There was a stream that the road would cross in a few miles, and he would drink there and water his mount. It was nearing mid day, and he could see the opening of the pass that would lead to the keep. He'd reach it well before evening, and could probably make it to the other side of the pass by nightfall if he had to.
Not that he thought that he would do that. He didn't doubt that Sir Javeth would stop him and he wouldn't even have to go to Baron Teers. After all, if his rightful lord gave him countermanding orders, he couldn't be blamed for disregarding that upstart.
Reaching the stream, he drank all of the water in one of his skins and then filled it while the klika sucked in as much as it could handle. Stepping down stream to relieve himself, Furrow Plower looked up at the sun once more, trying to estimate how long Sir Javeth had been back at the keep. Doubtless he'd arrived yesterday evening and had been seen by the cleric before being up all night preparing plans and sending messages to Baron Teers about the revolt.
"That's enough," he growled, reaching to pull the reins and draw the klika away from the water. It resisted, but after a few more drinks, it came along resignedly. Furrow Plower would walk the beast for another little while before mounting again. He could make it to the keep with one last push and that would put them both in the keep for the night, and that would let the beast rest and be cared for in a stable, which would make up for the poor treatment somewhat.
For the next hand of moments, all Furrow Plower could think about was how sweet it would be to finally have River Blossom under him. After all, once the owner of a slave was killed in combat, the slave went to the victor. And then she couldn't refuse him.
Timber Hauler; Distal Bend, fields
Timber Hauler looked at the workers, and set his hands on his hips, trying to imagine a way out of this mess. If Trevor hadn't shown up, they would be able to send word to Sir Javeth, and perhaps get some of his spare seed. The rest of the towns would likely need that as well though so maybe it would have been a moot point.
"Damn," he sighed, and shook his head. It would be a truly harsh winter. Not necessarily because of the temperatures, but because they would likely loose half of the elders and half of the children. Game would be scarce. Rust Shores would likely do alright, though the next year would be brutal as well. The whole valley would likely need to recover and replenish stores, if not the whole world. That would put Sir Javeth in a rough position if no one had a lot of food to supply the army with.
The children were all down by the river, doing their best to get clay for their Chosen. Awl would likely have sandals for an initial fitting by the end of the day. Now they just had to start hunting and salting as much meat as they could. It would take a lot of time to get enough for everyone to last through the winter, and with everyone else in the valley hunting, they'd need to start now if they wanted to get enough for them to last. He'd need to send messengers to the other villages in the area to try and coordinate somewhat. If he didn't there could be conflicts between hunting parties, and it wasn't unheard of for those who were desperate to steal game that had already been killed from one group or another.
"This is the last thing that we need," he sighed, watching as the table scraps that River Blossom had brought into his house were thrown out. He shook his head again, wondering what in the name of the gods had possessed that girl.
The door to the barn flew open, and Timber Hauler practically jumped out of his fur as he heard Trevor bellow, "Timber Hauler! Bring me the most experienced farmer we have and Timber Bringer! I'm going to the river to bathe, I'll be back in a few hands of moments! Oh, and I need an inventory of how much copper we have and where the closest master carpenter is! And if we have any lodestones! And spare scraps of leather from Three Feather's shop! The longer and thinner, the better!" The whole time, Trevor was either jogging or running toward the river, wearing just his kilt. Sometimes he was turning to walk backward and make hand motions toward Timber Hauler or the barn, sometimes waving over his head.
As Trevor vanished behind the trees, Timber Hauler turned to see River Blossom standing in the doorway of the barn. She looked as confused as anyone else, but also happy. Timber Hauler walked over to her and said, "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"
She shook her head. "He... ah... he finally had me. And while he was joined, he seemed to realize something."
That got a sigh of relief out of Timber Hauler. "At least that worry is past us now. By the gods, I thought that he was going to kill someone."
River Blossom looked at Trevor's receding form, and gave a brittle smile. "He almost did. But I think that I understand him better. A bit. He truly does come from a strange world."
Timber Hauler grunted acknowledgement. "So what's this about Timber Bringer and our best farmer? And copper and a lodestone? And leather?"
She sighed, and shook her head. "I honestly don't know. Something that he called a seed planter. Though he tried another one of his strange words that didn't work at first."
*
Trevor had enough time to bathe. Which is to say, he jumped into the river at the closest point, scrubbed the water through his fur and face, then climbed out and shook the water off of his frame. He was focused on getting things fixed as fast as possible. He didn't notice the children staring at him in shock, piles of red clay mounded and being sorted in wooden buckets. He didn't notice the hand carts of topsoil being carted to one field or another. So much to do! And so little time!
He was still wrapping his kilt around his hips when he got back to the barn, finding everyone that he'd asked for there, as well as most of the items. Good enough, he could make this work. The first question was how much space needed to be between each plant. It took a bit of trial and error to explain to the farmer what he meant, but eventually got the information that he needed, and measured that distance with a bit of leather.
The whole process of designing the strange machine took much of the day, and the addition of other tools from Three Feather's shop. To River Blossom, it looked like a sled with teeth in front of wheels, which pulled a log. He explained it, and the farmers all looked like they were about as skeptical of it as they could be. "These parts will cut the furrows," Trevor pointed to the teeth. "These parts will hold the seeds. Children will walk behind this as we pull it, and every time they see one of the notches in the wheels, they'll place a seed there." He pointed at the log, which was connected by two long bits of rope. "This will drag behind and cover up the seeds so that they aren't eaten by any flying scavengers."
Everyone looked at it, and no one said anything for several seconds. "It looks like it will fall apart before we finish the first pass," Timber Hauler said, and instantly everyone was nodding. Trevor know that it wasn't 'good' by any stretch of the imagination, but that wasn't something that would fall apart that quickly. ... He hoped.
"It's not the best," he said out loud, "but I will stake my reputation on it lasting long enough to plow and sow all of the fields and then cover them with a single pass. Six furrows at a pass. We can get all of the fields sown in two days instead of three weeks. And I'll take one of the ropes to pull, so that if something does go wrong, I'll be there to fix it. Not that anything should go wrong," he quickly added. As crude as it was, all of the attachments were sturdy. Sturdy, but not elegant. Not in the least. Wood pegs and slots were the only things that held the bits together, and he'd seen that they held up the roofs of the town's houses and barns. It should hold the teeth of the plow together. Once he had more time, he'd build a much better machine for them, but for this pass it would do.
"So much to do. So much to do," he muttered, and tapped his chin as he thought. "Let's carry it to the fields, and leave it there for tonight. One person won't be able to steal this." He set himself at one of the sections of the sled and then after counting to four (a number that shouldn't have surprised him but did) they all heaved upward and moved the sledge and its parts to the edge of the field. On the way there, one of the children from the river bank scurried up and called that they had as much clay as they could gather. He nodded and waved one hand toward them in acknowledgement.
Once they set the heavy thing down, he moved to bend down next to the child, giving instructions and then patting the child to send it off. He would start the children building a kiln, and like everything else, it would be a crude thing to start. Kiln, then bricks, then a smelter. Smelter would get copper and iron from... somewhere. More important than that is that a kiln and mold would allow for more detailed parts. A lack of iron was going to be a real massive problem. He couldn't build a generator of any kind until he had some amount of iron, even as much as a large nail would do. An iron age nail, not a modern pin.
So much to do. So much to do and so few resources. He'd have to spend tonight trying to plan the various parts of this project, if he wasn't pulled into something else. And the chances of that happening were slim. They needed to send runners to the other villages, to discover who had their fields washed away, as well as ask for any spare resources they could trade items for. Probably bows from Three Feather at this point. He needed an inventory and a skilled labor force, and a manager and a printing press and a literate population...
This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any characters, living, dead or imaginary is purely a coincidence. All characters are a product of the author's imagination and copyright to them, unless noted guest appearances of other copyrighted characters are listed in this notice. Comments may be left (and are encouraged!) on the author's FurAffinity or SoFurry page. If you liked this story, and wish to support the author, please visit their Patreon.
This story is a work of fiction. Any immoral acts included in this story are a fantasy and should not be taken as encouragement to perform or endorsement of these acts by the author. Specifically, because apparently it needs to be said; anything other than expressed consent for any sexual encounter by a legal unimpaired sentient adult is wrong, immoral, and evil. Unwilling subjugation of sentients who have committed no crime is wrong, immoral, and evil.