Chapter 1: Tongue and Trust in the Straw
The barn air was stale, thick with the sweet-rot smell of old hay and damp wood. Kaidan could taste the dust on his tongue, gritty and dry. He knelt in the straw, the rough concrete biting through the thin material of his—well, it wasn’t really his. The cow-pattern bikini top itched. The bell around his neck hadn’t stopped jingling since he started trembling.
He stared at the dark, sticky patches on his inner thighs. Failure. That’s what it was. The proof was right there, cooling on his skin.
“Almost done, Kai.”
Blade’s voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder. Kaidan flinched anyway. A massive hand, warm and calloused, settled on his knee to steady him. Then Blade’s head dipped, and that rough, wet tongue dragged over his thigh again.
Kaidan squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t watch. Blade was just… cleaning him up. Like a calf. Like something that needed tending. The humiliation was a hot, tight coil in his stomach, worse than the owners’ laughter had been. He could still hear it, sharp and mocking, echoing off the steel milking stalls.
”Pathetic output.” “Hardly worth the feed.”
A low, contented hum vibrated against Kaidan’s skin. Blade was happy doing this. Oblivious. He nuzzled closer, his breath hot, his movements methodical and tender. He licked a broad stripe from Kaidan’s knee to the hem of the bikini bottom, gathering every last trace.
“Blade, stop,” Kaidan whispered, his voice thin. “It’s… it’s dirty.”
Blade lifted his head. In the flickering lantern light, his green eyes were soft, confused. A streak of fluid glistened on his stubbled chin. “Nah. It’s just you. Tastes like salt.” He offered a slow, easy smile. “I don’t mind.”
“You should,” Kaidan said, pulling his knees together. The bell gave a sharp, discordant ring. “It’s supposed to be… more. You saw. They all saw. I’m just… small. Everything’s small.” The words tumbled out, brittle and sharp. He wrapped his arms around his slender middle, as if he could physically hold the shame inside.
For a moment, Blade just knelt there, his huge frame casting a shadow that swallowed Kaidan whole. He rocked back on his heels, the worn denim of his jeans straining. His cow tail gave a slow, thoughtful switch.
Then he shifted forward. He didn’t grab, just moved, his presence an immutable fact. He gently pried Kaidan’s arms away from his body, his hands so big they circled Kaidan’s wrists completely.
“Look at me, Kai.” Blade waited until Kaidan’s slanted blue eyes, glistening, met his. “Don’t matter what they say. Don’t matter what comes out. You’re my Kai.” He leaned in, until their foreheads almost touched. His cowboy hat bumped gently against one of Kaidan’s small horns. “My pretty Kai. With the pink hair. And the smart eyes.”
“They’re not smart,” Kaiden mumbled, but the tight coil in his gut loosened, just a fraction.
“They are. They see things. You think things.” Blade’s smile returned, brighter this time. “I just do things. Like this.”
Before Kaidan could protest again, Blade ducked his head and pressed a warm, firm kiss to the soft, pale skin of Kaidan’s belly, right above the bikini line. It wasn’t a lick. It was a kiss. Simple and affectionate.
Kaidan gasped, a tiny, hiccuping sound. His tail gave a frantic twitch.
“See?” Blade said, his voice muffled against Kaidan’s skin. “Nice.” He kissed the same spot again, then leaned back, looking immensely pleased with himself. “All clean. Good as new.”
A shaky laugh escaped Kaidan. It was wet, near a sob, but it was real. “You’re an idiot, Blade.”
“Your idiot,” Blade corrected, standing up in one smooth, powerful motion. He extended a hand. “C’mon. Straw’s itchy. Let’s go to our corner. I saved an apple from breakfast.”
Kaidan took the offered hand. Blade pulled him up effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing. As Kaidan found his footing, the loose plank in the floor creaked under Blade’s boots. He wobbled, and Blade’s other arm shot out, wrapping around his back to steady him. Kaidan’s face pressed into the soft, well-worn cotton of Blade’s vest. It smelled like sun, sweat, and him.
For a second, he let himself be held.
The barn door groaned on its hinges.
Both of them froze. Kaidan’s bell was silent, a clutch of fear stilling the clapper. Blade’s arm tightened around him, his previously relaxed posture hardening into a wall of muscle.
Heavy footsteps scuffed on the concrete aisle. Two pairs. The owners doing their final rounds, lanterns swinging.
Kaidan’s breath hitched. He pressed closer into Blade’s side, seeking to disappear. Blade turned subtly, angling his body to shield Kaidan completely from view of the aisle. His hand came up, slow and deliberate, and rested on the back of Kaidan’s head, holding him safe against his chest.
The footsteps paused. A lantern beam swept over the stall posts opposite, casting elongated, marching shadows.
“Hear they’re culling the lower producers tomorrow,” a gruff voice said, too close.
“About time. Waste of resources.”
The footsteps moved on, fading toward the tack room.
In the darkness of their corner, Kaidan began to shake. A full-body tremor he couldn’t control. Culling. The word echoed, cold and final, in the hollow of his chest.
Blade said nothing. He just held him. His hand moved from Kaidan’s head, down to the nape of his neck, thumb stroking the jittery tension there. Then his fingers traced up, over the cool metal of the bell’s collar. He found the simple clasp at the back.
With a soft click, the collar came loose.
The weight around Kaidan’s neck vanished. The constant, shameful jingle was gone. Blade let the collar and bell fall silently into the deep straw at their feet.
He replaced the cold metal with the warm solidity of his own hand, cupping the side of Kaidan’s neck, his thumb sweeping over Kaidan’s frantic pulse.
“No,” Blade murmured into his pink hair, his voice a low, absolute promise that brooked no argument. The single word wasn’t a maybe. It was a plan. “Sleep now, Kai. I’m here.”
And in the deep, listening dark of the barn, Kaidan believed him.