Trope Tuesdays #3 - male minotaur x reader (nsfw) 'cuddle for warmth' (Patreon)

Thanks to everyone who voted in the last-minute poll today to decide whether this was nsfw or sfw. For those who don't want nsfw, it's after the chunky paragraph break at the end.

Content: storm, power cut, the odd bit of swearing, mention of being drunk in the past, fluff, tropes (duh), cuteness, and some nsfw.Wordcount: 3860 (yes, they're still supposed to be short stories (c.1-2k words) but hey! I love you folks.

Hope you enjoy!!

With rain lashing at your cheeks, you scurried home from the bus stop, your collar turned up against the weather, scowling with the discomfort of biting winds and freezing rain.

“Fuck this!” you snarled as you stepped into the entrance of your apartment building and shook the weather from your coat and hair like a sodden dog. Shivering by the time you reached the elevator, you cursed again and thought longingly of a searingly hot shower and some hot food afterwards.

As the doors began to close, you saw someone else striding across the entrance hall, looking about as miserable as you felt. Maybe more. Jamming your foot in front of the closing doors, you felt your heart fluttering as you recognised the new arrival and your stomach swooped.

It was your gorgeously attractive neighbour from across the hall. He was a police officer, still wearing his uniform that day, and although he was soaked and miserable looking, it did nothing to distract from his attractive looks. The minotaur’s dark, shaggy pelt was drenched, and water dripped miserably from his hooves onto the flagstones of the hall as he made his way towards the lift. He inclined his head at you in gruff appreciation for holding it for him, and murmured, “Thanks.”

“No problem. It’s foul out there,” you added.

“Isn’t it?” he snorted, blowing air through his nostrils and glowering.

He loomed over you, the small space making him seem all the larger, and you tried to pretend that all of your shivers were from the cold, and not from just how attracted you were to him. You also tried to ignore the fact that this wasn’t your first elevator ride with him, and that the last time you’d been in such close quarters with him, it had been two o’clock in the morning, and you’d been absolutely wasted. You’d have liked to have pretended that it had been the alcohol that had made you come onto him, suggesting that you go back to your place and have sex, but it really hadn’t been. You still wanted that even now; you just didn’t have the alcohol to loosen your inhibitions.

If he remembered it, he had never mentioned it in the few times you’d crossed paths, and you hoped you could just forget it ever happened.

The elevator reached your floor and he waved a muscular arm to let you out first. “Thanks,” you murmured, teeth rattling.

“Hope you warm up soon!” he called over his shoulder as he headed for his front door which was almost exactly opposite your own.

“You too!” you chirruped, so cold you could barely get your key in the door. After three goes, you managed it, and as you closed the door behind you, you saw that he had lingered long enough to make sure you got inside alright. He’s just being nice, you told yourself. He’s a policeman. It’s his job to make sure people are ok. Even when he’s not on duty? you added hopefully to yourself and then growled, heading for the bathroom and shedding your wet clothes in a soggy trail on the way.

It was only when you opened the fridge a little while later that you remembered you had no food. “Fuck. Takeaway it is then…” you said despondently. Still, if any evening called for greasy fast food, it was a night like tonight. With dinner on the way, you settled down and started to scroll idly through various social media on the couch when, with a startling clunk, all the lights went off, leaving you with only the harsh glow of your phone screen to see by.

“No,” you groaned slowly, rising from the sofa and heading to the rain-streaked window. “No, no, no…”

The lights and power were out in a huge chunk of the city, from what you could see, and you knew from the last time this had happened that the building got cold really quickly. It was old, the windows and walls weren’t properly insulated, and it would soon hit the ambient temperature of a root cellar if the power didn’t come back on. You also wouldn’t know when the food delivery arrived because the doorbells and intercom were all electric.

There was only one thing for it.

Stuffing a hoody over your head, you grabbed your wallet and phone, and made your way downstairs to hang around in the lobby until the delivery showed up. And of course, because there was no heating in the hallway, you began to freeze almost instantly. Pacing around didn’t do much to keep you warm but it stopped you seizing up at least. The rain outside turned to sleet and you felt doubly guilty for making the poor person come all the way out there to deliver you your supper. When a miserable looking girl drove up on a sputtering moped the ‘L’ plates and knocked on the door, you made sure to tip her what extra you could, and thanked her profusely. She left with a little smile on her face, so that was something.

With icy hands wrapped around the pizza box, you made your way back upstairs and arrived, more than a bit winded, at the top of the staircase to find the minotaur from across the hall standing outside your door.

“Oh,” he said when he saw you emerging from the main stairwell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you went out again.”

“I didn’t,” you said. “I went to wait for my takeaway downstairs. Did you need something?”

“I… uh…” he said, looking unusually shy. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok, I guess.”

You grinned at him. “I mean, I’m slowly freezing my ass off, but I now have some food…?”

“Ok, well, let me know if you need anything. Just come over, ok?”

You paused and looked at his big, dark eyes, framed with long, thick lashes, and smiled again. “Thank you, I will. That’s really kind of you.”

He nodded gruffly and turned away. He was now wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and scruffy police department tracksuit pants with a small, tailored hole for his slim ox-tail, the cuffs snugging tightly around his hocks, his hooves bare as always. It seemed odd to see him in anything other than his uniform. Kicking your brain back into gear, you added with an awkward smile, “And if you need anything, you can come over too.” In the next heartbeat, you introduced yourself properly as well, since you’d never actually exchanged names before.

“My name’s Mason,” he said.

“Suits you,” you grinned, and then ducked inside your apartment before your courage faltered completely and sputtered miserably out into nothing but embarrassment.

With the pizza devoured, you curled up under your duvet and tried to read by the light of your phone, but it was tiring on your eyes and you were starting to get really cold. You had one extra blanket that you dragged out of the depths of your cupboard, but without the initial warmth there to begin with, all it seemed to do was insulate your cold feet inside your little cocoon like a freezer bag.

Two hours later, you began to wonder whether it would be a good idea to go round to Mason’s. Two people in one apartment had to be warmer than one? He might have candles too, which you definitely didn’t, and the thought seemed extremely inviting.

Throwing all ‘fuck its’ to the wind half an hour after that, you shuffled round to his and knocked on his door. It was only then that you realised it was super late, that he might be in bed, and that it was most likely really intrusive of you to be calling at that hour of the night.

However, Mason answered his door and his ears waggled softly when he saw who it was. “You want to come in?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

You nodded. “I’m so cold!” you said. “I only have one extra blanket…”

“I’ve got a gas hob so I can heat some water if you want a hot water bottle and some tea,” he said, shutting the door behind you as you scuttled into his hall and tried not to feel like a stray rat in the process.

“Wow,” you breathed, taking in his apartment. It was clear that he lived alone, and that he was neat. Like… Spartan levels of neat. It was classy though, with hardwood floors and soft rugs in the living room, but there was a couch and an empty coffee table, and not much else beyond a few lamps and a bookcase on one wall. His apartment was also bigger than yours. “Your place is lovely,” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder as he emerged out of the darkness of the hallway.

He had a laptop open on the sofa, its soft light the only source of illumination in the room. “Thanks. It’s pretty easy to keep tidy when it’s just me.”

“Were you watching something?” you asked, suddenly aware that you were probably interrupting his quiet evening. After what was likely a busy shift at the station, the last thing he probably wanted was company.

He shrugged. “Something on Netflix,” he said. “My battery is about to die anyway. You want a hot water bottle?” he asked, and then chuckled amusedly at the little whimper you let out. “Alight then. Sit tight. There’s a blanket just there,” he added, pointing at a thickly knitted, creamy coloured blanket draped over one arm of the sofa.

“Thank you so much,” you said. “I don’t want to get in the way…”

“You’re not in the way at all,” he smiled and disappeared towards the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”

The gush of water going into a kettle, followed by the steady click of the hob igniter announced that he was getting on with things, and you curled up on the sofa and looked around. There were some photos on the bookshelf, but not too many other personal belongings, and when he came back in a moment later and leaned against the door frame, you looked over at him and nearly choked on how gorgeous he looked.

His horns were wide and curved, with flecks of blue-grey near the base, fading up into ivory paleness at the tips. His large, dark eyes watched you warmly for a moment before he said in a soft, deep voice, “I’m glad you came over.”

You couldn’t help the smile, and then looked away bashfully, drawing the blanket up around your chin.

“You’re still freezing, aren’t you?” he chuckled, folding his arms.

“Well, I don’t have the benefit of all that luxurious fur you’ve got!” you grinned.

With a short, amused laugh that lit up his eyes and made his big ears waggle slightly again, he turned away to the kitchen and said over his shoulder, “Not long now.”

While he waited for the water to heat up, he fished out a few pillar candles from a cupboard and set them on saucers on the coffee table, adding a little more light to the room now that his computer had blipped to indicate its battery’s imminent final wheeze.

When you had the hot water bottle clamped to your chest, hugging it like it was a long lost teddy bear, he came and sat on the sofa beside you. You chatted for hours about your families and what you normally did over the holidays, until you began to yawn more than talk.

“You must be tired too,” you said when he commented on it. “You said you had a long shift?”

He nodded. “I am, but… this is nice.” Sighing expansively, he added, “It’s been a long time since I’ve just… hung out with someone and talked.”

“Really?” you blurted sleepily. “But you must have hundreds of people lining up to keep you company!”

He looked back at you with an odd expression in his dark eyes.

“That’s… That’s not quite how I meant that…” you said. “I’m sorry. Look, I… I feel like I should probably also apologise for something else…”

“Oh?” he frowned.

Flushing hot, you looked away and said, “I… I'm not sure if you remember really, but… a few months ago… in the elevator… I… I embarrassed myself pretty intensely in front of you. You know… coming onto you the way you did. I mean… I was drunk, and you probably aren’t even interested in humans at all, let alone… uh… well… me. I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s all.” You finished up by staring at a spot on the floor where someone had scuffed the hardwood, leaving a long, deep score in the otherwise perfect flooring. It looked like the rug under the coffee table was supposed to cover it, but it had got shunted aside a little at some point.

To your surprise, Mason let out a long, earthy, rumbling chuckle from his seat on the sofa beside you where you were still wrapped up like a burrito in his blanket. He was still only wearing a t-shirt and his sweat pants - not that you were complaining in the slightest.

“What?” you asked, even more ashamed now that he was laughing at you.

“I wasn’t sure you really remembered that,” he admitted, scratching behind one horn with his huge hand. “And… for the record, I am interested.”

That last statement made your brain screech to a halt and you blinked blankly up at him for a moment. “Interested in humans or…”

“In you,” he clarified. “I just wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking that night. You know how many drunks say they want to ‘ride the bull’ when we bring them in?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Tell me I didn’t say that… please…”

Again, Mason laughed, more richly this time, tipping his head back to expose a little of his throat, though it was ringed with a thick collar of his black pelt. “No, you didn’t.”

“Thank every deity in every culture, ever,” you said. “I think I’d have just… burst into flames in embarrassment otherwise.”

“Speaking of, are you warmer now?” he asked.

You made a little so-so gesture with your head, unwilling to unwrap the blanket to gesture with your hands. “Kind of?”

Mason took a very long, very slow, deep breath and said, “Would you like to stay here tonight?”

“It’s nearly two in the morning…” you said. “I… was kind of waiting for you to kick me out. I’d love to stay though.”

He smiled again and stood up, blowing the candles out one by one and plunging the room into almost complete darkness. Once done, and held out his hand to you and helped you to your feet, laughing quietly as you shuffled towards him, unwilling to unravel from your little burrito of relative warmth.

The Spartan decor extended to Mason’s bedroom as well, with a positively huge, low-slung bed taking up most of one wall, and a couple of chests of drawers and a built in wardrobe being the only other things in the room.

From the way the bed was made, you looked up at him and asked, “Ex-military too?”

He snorted. “Hospital corners give it away?” he asked dryly.

“That, and the fact that everything is exactly parallel and there’s nothing out of place. It’s nice. My place is a fucking tip in comparison…”

Mason just laughed and said, “Why don’t you climb into bed before you turn into an ice block?” And with that, he headed to the en suite and emerged a few minutes later wearing just his underwear. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you? I can put some more clothes on if you like…” he added, as if he’d only just realised exactly how little he was wearing.

You fixed him with a flat look and said, “I thought that was the whole point of me staying over. And I wouldn’t dream of making you put on more than you’re comfortable with,” you added with a grin.

“Just checking,” he said before getting in and sliding across, lying on his back. “C’mere,” he added, extending one arm and inviting you to curl up against the bulwark of his body. Because of his horns, he couldn’t sleep on his side without a billion pillows to prop him up, and you wondered idly if he had ever had to put socks on the tips to stop them catching the sheets.

The thoughts ebbed and flowed for a moment before his touch against your body chased everything away. The searing warmth of his palm through the fabric of your shirt made you moan louder than you perhaps wanted to, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. The heat that his body radiated was frankly delicious, and you snuggled in closer, pressing your chest against his side and resting your head on his shoulder.

You jumped when you felt something tickle your thigh and then laughed, “I forgot you have a tail!”

He snickered, amused, and shuffled, clearly hoisting it out onto the other side of his body so that it didn’t brush against you again.

Taking a deep breath, you nuzzled your cheek against his chest and listened to the steady thud of his heartbeat.

“Thank you,” you murmured, right on the point of sleep.

His hand, still holding you around your shoulders, twitched slightly but otherwise, Mason didn’t respond.

In the morning, you woke to find that the power was back on again, with a few of the lights in his otherwise bare bedroom glowing softly. Mason was still lying on his back, with one arm tightly around your shoulders, and as you raked your fingers through the thick pelt on his chest, he let out a deep, unconscious lowing sound. Where rakshasa purred, minotaurs apparently made soft moans, but you had to do it again, just to be sure.

His hips rocked upwards slightly and you dared to slide your hand a little lower to the jut of his hipbones. Through the material of his underwear you could feel him growing harder, pushing back against your hand as you stroked him gently with your palm.

Mason gasped as you slid your hand under the waistband and took his hard length in your hand. His eyes blinked open and he began to breathe quickly.

“You want me to stop?” you asked in a tense whisper, suddenly realising that you had just vaulted over some pretty serious personal boundaries.

“No,” he rasped, rearing up into your touch again. “Gods, no.”

“Thank fuck for that,” you laughed. “I’m sorry though.”

“Just don’t stop and I’ll forgive you…” he grunted blearily and you obliged, tightening your grip this time and smearing the rapidly beading pre-come around the head of his thick cock with your thumb. “Gods… that’s good,” he barely managed to croak out.

After a little while he groaned in frustration and you gave him enough room to free his impressive cock from his underwear, drawing them down his beautiful legs and ditching them on the floor before taking a moment just to admire him.

“Stop staring at me,” he snarled almost self-consciously, blowing his nostrils wide.

“Demanding,” you pouted, and he laughed again, falling back into the pillows behind him with another bovine moan of bliss as you started up again in earnest this time.

It didn’t take long until he was trembling, his great thighs quivering while you worked him with your hands and your mouth combined, until suddenly he hissed, “Stop… Stop or I’ll come…”

You slowed and pulled your mouth off him with a lewd pop, loosening your grip to something just shy of teasing and he choked out another broken sound, head thinking the pillows yet again. “You want to come on me?” you asked, feeling particularly playful.

His eyes fluttered and he lowed gently. “Yes,” he whispered.

“On my front or up my back?”

The inarticulate grunt he made did little to clarify.

“Mason…?”

In answer, he rolled you so that he was now astride your legs with you on your back, and he began to work himself desperately, almost brutally, with one hand, the other braced beside your head as he loomed over you. The darkness of his fur contrasted with the pale ceiling until all you could see was the monochrome of black on white. Except for his eyes. As he stared at you, tipping inexorably closer and closer, you noticed flecks of gold in the brown of those big, gentle eyes.

“I’m gonna…” he grunted. “Oh fuck, I’m… I’m gonna…”

And as you reached up and grabbed hold of his horns in each hand, pulling yourself up a little bit closer to his face and growled, “Come for me then,” he did. With a bellow that made your ears ring, he arched his back and spilled all over your stomach and chest, some hitting your chin as he emptied himself onto you. His body heaved with the force of his orgasm and as it faded, he began to shake and gasp.

He half collapsed beside you, landing awkwardly and rolling with great effort onto his back. Cock spent and twitching, he lay there, winded, chest rising and falling like he’d sprinted a mile, and his left hand fumbled and found your right. Lacing your fingers together, he squeezed you and whispered, “Fuck… I haven’t come like that in…”

He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t have to.

It was a while before he recovered enough to turn to you and he had the grace to look a little bit bashful about the mess he’d made of you. “Let me… uh… clean you up a bit…” he mumbled, getting unsteadily to his feet and heading to the en suite.

Mason took his time tending to you, and with every stroke of the warm wash cloth, he left a kiss in its wake. The way he focused his whole attention on your body was more erotic than almost anything you had ever experienced, and by the end of it, you were a quivering wreck yourself.

He touched you everywhere except where you were most sensitive, right up until he was completely finished, and when the heat of his eager mouth closed over you, you simply shattered. He held you as you came, lowing softly against your skin, the vibrations of it sending you spiralling through the seemingly endless pleasure until you finally lay back on the bed, as out of breath as he had been.

“We should have… power cuts… more often,” you wheezed, and in answer, Mason just snorted.

“You don’t need that as an excuse to come over now,” he said after a few minutes. He had moved and was sitting slumped up against the pillows, one arm draped around your shoulders, drawing idle patterns on your arm.

With a smile, you leaned your cheek against his chest and hooked your arm across his dark torso. “No. I guess not.”

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