Twelve Days of Monstermas: Day Two (female gargoyle x male reader - NSFW) (Patreon)

I hope you enjoyed Day One! Here's Day Two for you! Happy Boxing Day... 

The city of Cambridge was made up of 60% students and 40% tourists, almost all year round. 

The start of the Michaelmas term in September was always crazy, with hundreds of freshers all getting lost in the rambling city, forgetting codes, getting locked out of halls and college accommodation, getting blind drunk, or falling off bicycles. Speaking of bicycles, they were everywhere. You couldn’t go ten yards without tripping over a stack of them. In short, the place was a little bit crazy, and it tended to drive those who remained there for more than their three or four (or even more depending on the degree) years a little bit nuts. 

So it was that you, a young architecture fellow and lecturer at St. Michael’s College, sought out a moment of quiet and peace. The fact that this moment of quiet and peace just so happened to be found on the roof of the college chapel was entirely by the by. It had become a favourite haunt of yours, and ever since you had ‘acquired’ a spare key to the roof, you had been sneaking out there to recharge above the constant hum and noise of the city. 

It was a balmy September evening, with just the slightest chill to the air to hint at the deepening autumn in the damp fenlands, and as usual you had your sketchbook tucked under your arm as you made your way out through the tiny access door onto the roof. A low stone wall topped with decorative pinnacles guarded a significant drop into the court below, and the leads stretched away from you along the whole length of the chapel nave until they hit the square tower over the chancel and altar below. 

Making your way carefully along your now-familiar route, you settled down to watch the sun sink below the spires and roof lines of the city. The hulking silhouette of the nearby St. John’s college chapel drew your eye, and you began to sketch it. As you lost yourself in the lines and angles, you felt a drop of rain hit the back of your neck, and you looked up to see that the sun had just sunk behind the horizon and the clouds had moved in, as though trying to wash the last warm light of the day away. 

The rain they brought would make your journey back along the roof a little more treacherous, so you decided to fold up your sketchbook and head down before it got any worse. You had just closed it, however, when the heavens opened, drenching you almost instantly. Above you was the statue of a winged gargoyle - which technically should have been called a ‘grotesque’ because it didn’t contain a water spout, but you thought the term terribly unfair, as she was a particular favourite of yours. Yes, the figure was definitely supposed to be female. 

As you cursed the rain, however, you blinked, dazed. You had to be hallucinating: the gargoyle’s wing moved. 

It opened out and, like a mother swan sheltering her signets, she sheltered you beneath the rippling, soft feathers of her huge wing, revealing at the same time the slate grey skin of her torso and underside, and, yes, a perfectly clear shot of her modest, muscular looking breasts. 

In your shock, your foot slipped and you teetered backwards. With a shriek of alarm, the gargoyle shot out her clawed arms and grabbed you by your jacket, hauling you back from the terrifying drop which had been fast approaching behind you, and setting you down at the base of the peaked roof where you could safely grab the stone bulwark for support. 

“What the hell?” you panted. 

The gargoyle made a soft grunt of disgust. “Not hell,” she said in a gravelly, warm alto. She had a head and body similar to a panther’s, but her eyes shone with intelligence. Small, delicate ears swivelled forwards, while those eagle’s wings folded back neatly against her. “I’m not a demon; I’m a gargoyle. I thought you knew about architecture?” she said dryly. “I mean, you’re always up here drawing it…”

“You… You're… You mean…?” you stammered stupidly, wondering if you had indeed slipped and cracked your head. 

She sighed longsufferingly. “Yes, I’ve watched you for a long time,” she said evenly. “I like to watch you draw. You’ve even drawn me a couple of times…” she added with an almost coquettish tilt to her head.

You blushed at that, thinking about the way you’d lingered on the curve of her breasts and her slim waist as it melted into the muscular sleekness of her thighs, and the way her tail coiled coyly around one ankle. You felt your trousers shrink a size, and knew you were in trouble. You'd always found this gargoyle alluring, and had even jacked off in bed to the imagery of her clawed hands on your thighs and her breasts above you…

She smiled and you felt, as much as heard, the low-frequency rumble roll off her. “You should go inside, human,” she said softly, her voice husky and warm. “You’ve already proven it’s not safe up here…”

“Wait,” you said as she tried to shoo you back towards the door. “Can all gargoyles come alive like you just did?”

Again, she purred softly and this time you had to fight not to think about what that might feel like against your cock. “Yes,” she said, “Though many are no so deeply asleep it would take a great jolt to wake them.”

“What do you mean?”

The gargoyle made a calculating little side-to-side movement of her head. “I’ve been semi-dormant for a while now, awake but still unmoving once the sun goes down, but just now, with you in danger, I came fully awake.”

“Will you be fully awake if I come back here again?”

“As long as it’s after sunset, I could be awake for you,” she purred. “Now get off this roof before I actually knock you off it.”

“Yes ma’am,” you snorted playfully, and retreated for the warmth and dry of the college, your mind still reeling after the encounter, and your legs more than a little shaky.

The encounter stayed with you and it was all you could do the next day not to skip out on your commitments and bolt up to the roof, but you had a number of lectures to deliver, and a good few essays still to mark. That kept you mostly distracted until six or so, and when you could bear it no longer, you wove through the stone warrens of passageways and old buildings of the college, and found yourself on the roof of the chapel again. 

She was dormant and motionless as she had always been, but the sun was still up, you realised. Could gargoyles only move once the sun had set? You approached her and pressed your hand down on her stone paw. If she could feel you, she gave no sign. Was that merely the lingering warmth of the day, or did the stone feel perhaps a little less like stone?

Slowly, the moments ticked by, and you became aware of a change coming over her. The stone definitely began to grow warmer beneath your hand, and then, with a creaking, grinding stiffness, her head began to turn. “You came back,” she rasped. 

“Of course I did!” you exclaimed. “I have got to know more about you! I have so many questions!”

She gave a rough laugh like grinding sandpaper, and then as the sun set properly, she shook herself out, a light coating of dust clouding off her feathers. She hopped delicately down off her perch, landing catlike and silently, although she had to be easily eight feet in length from nose to the base of her tail, and you swallowed thickly when she paused to stand in front of you. She walked on all fours like a lioness, and as such she came midway up your thigh. 

“What do you want to know?” she asked. 

The mane of fur which began around her ears and trickled down in a stripe between her wings to finish halfway down her back, was a deep, russet red, the colour of rusty iron, but her slate grey skin was smooth and bare of fur. The cool of the evening air didn’t seem to bother her, though you tried to keep your eyes from wandering to the tight curves of her breasts. The colour of her wings reminded you of a golden eagle, the feathers beginning at her shoulder joints. 

“You seem very interested in me,” she commented, now strutting confidently along the apex of the roofline while you returned to the foot or so of flat border inside the stone bulwark. 

“Do you have a name?” you croaked at last. 

“Yes.”

“What is it? What should I call you?”

She smiled and sat down, looking very much like a cat atop a garden wall. You felt suddenly very small as she surveyed you with her golden, hawk-like eyes. “Fenestella,” she said. 

You frowned. “‘Little window’?” 

She rolled her eyes. “It is the name the sculptor who made me gave to me,” she said. “He probably liked the sound of it. I have been called ‘Ness’ or ‘Nessa’ too in my time.”

“Ness,” you said, trying the name on your tongue. “I like that. May I call you that?”

Ness nodded slowly and then began to pad down towards you, her paws never slipping. “And what should I call you?”

You told her, and she repeated it with a smile. “I like it,” she said. 

“Really? I’ve never thought it suits me.”

“Does a name have to suit you for someone to like it on you?” 

“I…” you said, watching her get nearer and nearer. When she came to a halt on the same piece of flat roof as you, you swallowed hard. She was staring very intently at you. “I suppose not,” you finished rather limply. 

After that first visit, you went back as often as you could. Sometimes you would take your bag of work up with you, and you’d sit on the roof of the college chapel, marking essays and preparing seminars while she either lay curled around you to protect you from the wind, or just watched you from her perch. She purred loudly whenever you rested your weight against her warm body, and she particularly liked her ears being stroked, tilting her catlike face into your hand whenever you did. 

As the winter grew in strength, though, she asked you not to come up so often. It was dangerous, and she was scared for you, and you had to agree that the weather made it miserable at times, as well as treacherous. She also admitted that she usually slept through the winter. 

“I’ll see you in the spring then,” you said, stroking her head. “Sweet dreams...”

“I will think of you,” she said suggestively, nuzzling her cheek against your hip and purring audibly. “That way they will be sweet.”

As spring came, the days lengthened and warmed up, and by summer, you had long evenings together on the rooftop, undisturbed, and often spent chatting late into the night. On one such summer evening, well after the end of the summer term, you were lying against the leads, your head resting against her ribs, and she asked you a question. 

“Why do you keep coming back up here?” 

You sat up in surprise and stared at her golden eyes. “Because I enjoy your company, Ness. Why do you ask?

She shrugged and looked away. 

“Ness? Is everything alright?”

The gargoyle gave a great sigh and eased herself to her feet, stretched like a housecat, and then padded around to gaze off at the rooftops of the city. “I’ve seen so much in my lifetime,” she said, raising herself up to peer over the parapet. “But I’ve never known anyone to keep coming back the way you do. I’ve grown very fond of you.”

You stood and joined her, placing your hand on her warm shoulder and eliciting an involuntary purr from her. “You’re talking as though it’s going to end soon,” you said. 

She chuffed a little laugh and said, “Isn't it?”

“I’m a fellow and lecturer here,” you said. “I’m pretty young, so unless they fire me, I’m going to be here for a long time. I’m not going anywhere…”

“That’s good to hear,” she said, more to herself than to you.

You lowered yourself down onto the roof again and playfully pulled her with you, careful not to crush her wing. She landed on top of you with a disgruntled yet playful snarl, which broke up into a rasping laugh. She swiped at you with her paws, her talons retracted, but when her warm leathery palm connected with your cheek, the moan you let out was anything but chaste. 

She drew back and cocked her head to one side, murmuring your name. 

You bit your lip and rolled your eyes, heat and tension coiling in your groin. You didn’t need to look down to know there was a tent in your jeans already. 

Ness inhaled slowly, and then lowered her muzzle to your crotch, blowing hot air slowly out over your hardening cock through the fabric. You couldn’t help the choked groan you made at that, the sensation washing over you. Your hips bucked upwards slightly and she purred again more loudly. “I would like to taste you, if you’ll let me,” she said in a low, hoarse whisper. 

Throwing all caution to the wind, you undid your jeans and boxers, and the moment your cock was exposed to the summer evening, she drew your jeans down your thighs with tender claws, and licked the length of your hard cock with her hot tongue. You gasped and practically sobbed at the feeling as she took you into her mouth and began to suckle gently on your cock. Her tongue was rough but not painfully so, and the silky ridges on the palate of her mouth felt incredible as she worked up and down your length. 

Her paws held your hips down, even as you tried to thrust into her, and then the most incredible vibrations ran from her throat to your groin as she purred noisily against you. Her tail thrashed behind her as she got more and more worked up, and as you sensed your peak approaching, your face flushed, you gasped out her name in warning. She did not stop. She sucked that little bit harder, and you crashed over the edge, emptying yourself into her mouth, moaning as she swallowed you down and worked you through the intensity of your release. 

Eventually she sat back on her haunches and watched as you dazedly tucked yourself back in. “That… was unexpected,” you rasped. 

“But not unwanted?” she asked. 

Shaking your head, you smiled. “No. Not unwanted at all. I’ve been thinking about you like that for a while now.”

“Around your cock?” she grinned, flashing long canines at you. 

“Not necessarily,” you admitted. “But I’ve definitely not been having chaste thoughts about you every time you come to my mind.”

She purred raucously and padded up to lie beside you, placing one huge, taloned paw on your chest, flexing her claws against the soft weave of your shirt like a cat. Her tail landed over your ankle and she coiled it around you. 

“You’ll have to show me next time just what else you’ve been thinking about…” she grinned. 

Hope you enjoyed it! Do let me know by leaving like, and a comment if you feel like it. Tomorrow's is a trans female tiefling x female reader.