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Bloom for the Beast: Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2022-05-05 17:24:17 +0000 UTCThis is something I'm writing for a contest, so BFS updates will likely be few and far between until this is done. If you can, be sure to head to the contest site & interact with the story! https://booknet.com/en/book/bloom-for-the-beast-b394925
Ophelia
From far away, the cacophony began. It started off low at first, almost out of range of my hearing. Before I had time to figure out what it was or where it was coming from, the screech of the alarm on my phone grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me into consciousness without a shred of mercy. Pulse like thunder in my ears, I sat up quickly. Too quickly. A spike of pain shot through my temple as I fumbled for my phone in the cottony darkness. My fingers finally grasped it and I slammed my fingertip down on the screen to silence the offensive noise.
I let the phone drop into my lap, and let my head drop into my hands with a muffled groan. Motion beside me under the blankets startled me into further alertness. I pulled the comforter down to reveal two men curled up beneath it. The one directly next to me scooted closer, wrapping heavily muscled arms around my waist, his scaled crimson skin warmer than usual due to being wedged between two warm blooded humanoids.
Doing my best to keep the annoyance from my tone, I said softly: “I thought I asked you two to bail before I woke up.”
He didn’t even bother lifting his head to meet my gaze. I knew he could feel me boring holes in the back of his head with a glare. “You always say that, Lia. If you really meant it, you wouldn’t have us over every other week.”
The other beastman beside him stretched languorously, lean muscles flexing enticingly beneath his sleek coat of black velvet fur. “Ragnar’s right, Lia. We’ve been here every other week for the past six months. We’re too damned tired to take off in the middle of the night like we’re teenagers.” He yawned, his pink sandpaper tongue protruding between feline fangs. Large acid green eyes blinked at me slowly. “We’re almost forty, ya know? Give a couple of old geezers a break, would ya?”
“Speaking of break… I have a migraine from the bowels of Hell. Can one of you grab me a cup of coffee and a Motrin, please?” I closed my eyes against the lancing pain behind them, fingers clutching at the sides of my skull to keep it from splitting apart.
Ragnar’s weight shifted, then he stilled at Felix’s voice. “You stay with her. I’ll go get it. You want one, too?”
The dragonkin nodded, the ripples of the skin on his face, rubbing against my stomach. “Extra sugar. I feel like it’s gonna be a carb-heavy day.”
“No problem. You got any special requests aside from the painkiller, princess?” I could hear Felix’s smirk through his snarky tone without even needing to look at him.
“Call me princess again and I’ll show you how many ways there are to skin a cat,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
His laughter was gentle, but he surprised me when velvet-encased fingers brushed across my forehead, the caress brief but somehow soothing to the pulsating chaos that had taken root inside my skull. His lips were soft against my forehead, his whiskers tickling my cheek as he pulled away. “You’re adorable when you try to threaten someone who can bench press a car, Ophelia.”
I swatted at him with flapping hands, and he departed the bedroom with masculine chuckles that curled things inside of me I forced myself to ignore. I absently dragged my fingertips back and forth over the impressive curve of Ragnar’s deltoid, and he softly hummed his approval.
“You really should be nicer to Felix, Lia. He worries about you more than he lets on. He’s just as prickly about it as you are, though.”
I flopped back onto the pillows with a sigh, my oversized t-shirt riding up to expose my abdomen. I yanked it back down self-consciously. We were all closer to forty than thirty, and while I was in decent shape, my stomach was softer than I preferred it to be.
“You’re both pains in my ass, and you know it.” I grumbled, resting my forearm across my eyes to shield them from the slivers of sunlight that valiantly attempted to breach the curtains.
Ragnar’s hand settled on my stomach, unbothered by my extra winter weight, the blunted black claws on his fingertips resting against the flesh there without an ounce of malice in his body. I should have been frightened. Worried that Ragnar could crush me and rend the flesh from my bones without needing any weapons save those he was born with. As a mere human, I should have kept to my own kind. In the eyes of most of society, anyway.
Lucky for my lovers, and myself, I’d never had many fucks to give about how society thought I should act. Beast human hybrids, colloquially called beastmen or just “beasts”, have always had an allure that human males just didn’t. I wouldn’t call it a kink, but my preferences have always leaned toward the beasts who were least like humans, in appearance.
The few times I’ve made the mistake of dating a normie, it didn’t end well for either of us. I’ll stick to what I enjoy. Not just what I enjoy, but who. And it all started because of an accidental roll in the hay with a wolfman at a college party. Not just any wolfman, though.
It was with none other than Adrian Ripley, heir to the Ripley Clan’s fortune. Their future alpha, and the man I’d had a crush on since we were teenagers.
