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Everyone's a Catgirl! Bonus Quest: Manohari (NSFW)
🕑 Added 2023-03-19 03:09:13 +0000 UTCPatreon-Exclusive chapter with Tristan and Svarga, Queen Toast's Creator Tier. Thanks, Toast!
Follows immediately after Chapter 195.
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Svarga couldn’t hide the wry smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. This boy? Teach me? “Perhaps we could wait until my daughter is a few years older,” she countered. “A better pairing, I believe.”
Tristan’s expression never wavered, his light blue eyes warming as he crossed his arms. “Oh? Is there a certain age where you’re no longer allowed to enjoy yourself?”
She spun the calamus of her quill, and the purple feather swirled in the sunlight from the single window high on the back wall. “Allow me to be blunt. I don’t believe you have the… qualifications to fill the gaps in my education.”
At that, he chuckled and leaned against the desk. “Allow me to disagree. I won’t push you, Svarga. I know there’s a lot happening with the shift in leadership—”
Svarga waved a dismissive hand. “There is little in Naeemah’s assumption of the throne that affects my work.”
“Then all the more reason to take a break.” He shrugged.
Laying her quill carefully by the pad of paper, Svarga sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Tristan… Indra, my daughter, is my greatest blessing in this life—her presence is the warm wind that guides me.” She idly traced the edge of her parchment with her forefinger, following the loops and swirls on the page with her eyes. “I do not know how to say this without sounding irreverent.”
“I’m not here to judge.”
She sniffed, rolling her thoughts on the tip of her tongue. “I am not in a suitable position for another man to have his pleasure with me only for me to bear his child.”
Tristan blinked. “Then we wouldn’t go that far.” He relaxed his arms and took one of the tomes from the desk, flicking through the pages. “The offer wasn’t meant for me, anyway.”
Then… why? “What do you mean?”
Settling on a passage, Tristan ran his finger down the page and inhaled. “‘I slip my dress from my feet, and I’m naked before him. He reaches down and roughly grabs me between the legs—’”
Svarga felt the heat of embarrassment return, snatching the book from his hands. “I know what I’ve written!”
“Getting ‘roughly’ grabbed between the legs doesn’t sound like a good time for anyone.” His grin returned, and he smoothed out his shirt. “Those are the types of gaps I can fill.”
Svarga hugged the book to her chest, willing the blush of her cheeks to go away. Her heart hammered against her chest as the fantasies she’d reserved for quiet nights and a few glasses of wine danced through her thoughts. But they were just that. Fantasies.
Weren’t they?
“I’m sorry, Svarga, I won’t take any more of your time. It’s a pleasure to meet a famed author.” Tristan straightened and turned to leave.
“Tristan, wait.” What was the emotion that betrayed her? Curiosity? Fascination? Carnality?
He paused, then patiently watched her.
“My chambers are next door.” The heat in her face only deepened. “I have only two requests. Keep your word, and stop if I say so.”
Tristan nodded, errant tendrils of his blonde hair falling into his eyes. He was young, handsome, and undoubtedly about to disappoint her for giving him the opportunity.
She stood, realizing that the top of her head only reached his nose. With a final sigh, she took his hand.
He followed her out of the small library and waited as she locked the door, then stepped over the threshold of her bedroom and shut the door behind him.
A nervous laugh bubbled through Svarga’s lips, and she touched her cheek. “I’ve written more scenes of intimacy than I can count, yet I don’t know how this should begin.”
“All you need to do is relax,” Tristan murmured, leading her to stand near her modest bed. “And tell me if you want anything to drink so I can go get it for you.”
Svarga tipped her head in curiosity. “Will it take so long that I need one?”
Tristan stepped around her, finding the pins in her dark hair and pulling them free. “That depends on you.” He ran his hand through the braids, loosing the taut plaits and releasing her tresses in waves.
She shivered. I must not raise my hopes. “I’m content, thank you.”
“Tell me if you change your mind.” Tristan’s fingers found the fastenings of her top, then her skirts, and he unhooked them one at a time with a rhythm that made her skin tingle.
Warm hands slid inside the fabric, mapping the curves of her cool body. His touch was delicate, teasing, deliberate. Lips caressed her bare shoulder and throat. Hot breath collided with her ear as he cupped her breasts in his palms, creating a barrier between flesh and silk. “What do you want to feel, Svarga?”
Svarga’s breath caught in her throat, her gasp hiding the hint of a whimper. Her skin throbbed, against his hands, back arched to encourage his machinations. “Make my pleasure your focus. Not yours,” she murmured before she realized what she’d asked.
“Done.” He pinched her nipples and gently nibbled on her outer ear.
She hissed in a breath through her teeth. Her free ear flicked in response, and her tail wrapped around his back without her beckoning.
“What else do you want?” Tristan’s right hand drifted from her chest to the base of her tail.
It was just a few fingers on her lower back, a soft grip on her tail. But when Tristan massaged just beneath the fur, the sensation ignited a sensuous flame that lapped hungrily at her spine and heated the tension between her thighs.
Svarga moaned, caught between Tristan’s hand on her breast and grip on her tail. “Your mouth,” she whispered.
“Where?”
“Everywhere.” Another searing strip of pleasure erupted from her tail. “How do you do that?”
“Practice,” he laughed into her ear, initiating another. “I can draw it for you later.”
Svarga’s breathing was already ragged, emerging in shallow panting and hoarse words. “Goddess above, I’m still clothed,” she whispered. “Yet I’m already a mess.”
“One of these things we can rectify.” Tristan released her, pushing her top forward and her skirts to the floor. “The other, well, I have some bad news.”
Svarga kicked her clothing to the side and turned to face him. “Do you always know the right words to say?”
“No.” Tristan brushed his lips against hers—barely a kiss. An ask. “Sometimes there aren’t enough words.”
Svarga rolled to the balls of her feet and pressed her mouth to Tristan’s, pushing her tongue past his lips in search of his. He was a willing recipient, holding her close and stroking her hair and tail as she memorized his mouth with her tongue. Only when she drew free for air did he guide her to lie down on the bed.
Just as he kicked away his shoes and stepped forward to join her, Svarga tugged at the hem of his tunic. “Take this off,” she instructed, then chewed her lower lip. “Just this. For now.”
Tristan smiled easily, then tossed his shirt aside. Hopping on the bed, he positioned himself beside her, eyes drinking every inch of her—from her gaze to her feet. He didn’t have the hulking muscle of their fallen king, but he was toned and lithe. His touch was affectionate and perceptive. As if this was their hundredth time coupling and not the first. “Anything else?”
Svarga touched his forehead, then traced around his brow with her fingertips until they reached his lips. Embarrassment stilled her tongue, but she finally managed, “Only what I’d asked for.”
“It’s yours.” He trailed a river of intoxicating kisses and quick nips of his teeth from her lips to her collarbone until he hovered above her breast and toyed at the hardened bud with the tip of his tongue.
“Tease,” she breathed, burying one hand in his hair and forcing him down.
Tristan hummed a laugh, setting to work with his mouth while the fingers of one hand tickled the inside of her thigh. She spread her legs, wriggling her hips toward his hand. His fingers met no resistance sliding inside of her—a testament to his work.
It had been a very long time since she’d taken anyone to bed. Even his careful entry felt overly snug and surprisingly deep. But was this advancement not meant for his enjoyment? What was she—
“Ah… hah!” Svarga cried, her grip on his hair tightening.
He kneaded a place in her depths that made her toes curl and her hips writhe. Her whole body shivered as he slipped another finger inside of her, pushing into the spot that dragged moans from her throat and sweat from her brow.
Lifting his head, Tristan found her eyes and purred, “How does that feel?”
“Intense,” Svarga replied. “I—mnh!—I don’t have the words,” she squealed. She didn’t. Every roll and massage of his fingertips forced a gasp and heightened the tension between her legs.
Tristan repositioned himself between her legs, kissing her abdomen before bowing his head lower. He parted her folds with his tongue, caressing the bead between them. Svarga moaned and clawed at the bedding, hands searching for purchase. Goosebumps bloomed across her body, and she shuddered beneath him.
“That’s incredible,” she managed between groans. “Don’t stop.”
Another finger. His tongue flattened against the point of her pleasure. Svarga could hardly breathe. Think. Speak. She watched him between flashes of ecstasy, his mouth against her, fingers inside her. The weight of his bare chest against her legs.
“Tristan, I can’t hold—ngh!” The climax hit her like a storm, wrapping her in ecstasy without warning. Her head lulled back as her back arched, eyes vanishing behind heavy lids. Every pulse was amplified around Tristan’s movements; each throb brought a new wave of bliss.
This was the kind of apex she wanted to write stories about.
As he withdrew his hand and moved to lie next to her, another surge of carnal hunger tensed in her stomach. Again? She was as surprised as she was willing to continue.
“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Tristan said, propping his head against one fist.
“I’m thinking of… a lot of things,” Svarga admitted, her mind racing through narratives she’d written years past.
What else could I learn when the opportunity is so freely available?
Her heart skipped. Were there not three men in the citadel? “For example, a book I wrote about relations between two men and a catgirl.”
“I’ve read that one.” Tristan raised a brow. “But wouldn’t that break your first rule?”
Every nerve, every inch of her skin, begged to be touched, caressed, experienced. It was overwhelming. The starved voice in the back of her head whispered that she was ready to break every rule if it meant truly experiencing another person. Another two people, if they would allow it.
Svarga licked her lips. “Let’s say that I’m willing to break it.”
Tristan nodded, then stood and picked up his shirt. “Stay here.”
Svarga watched him leave, still shivering from her climax. Her fingers slipped between her legs as she imagined his tongue against her skin.
Come back soon, Tristan.
