Haley Thistle
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Iomhair the Centaur
🕑 Added 2023-01-31 20:00:01 +0000 UTCFemale Reader x Male Monster
Originally Posted: February 14th, 2018
Your family owns and operates a massive orchard. So, every year come harvest, your father often hires help. He usually hires the same crew every year, so you’ve gotten to know them over time. One of them you’ve known since you were both children, a centaur named Iomhair. Back when his parents had started working in the orchard, his mother would make him stay at the edge of the orchard and play so he didn’t get in the way. Your mom would invite him inside during hot days and the two of you started to play together.
He was mottled black and white. The tips of his hand and around his nose and mouth were soft, baby pink. The rest of him was mottled black and white. His hair was long and billowy like one of your mother’s scarves. It started black and dripped down to white. Even his hooves were covered with silky white hair. You enjoyed playing with his hair more than anything. At the end of work days, his mother would come to collect him and find his hair done up in braids or curls, decorated with ribbons and bows from your collection.
Iomhair was always skinny and squirrelly, he scared quite easily. Loud noises made him jump and sprint like a madman away. One day, you had to go out and find him after thunder began roaring in the distance. You had been playing in the yard, helping your mother collect sticks for the bonfire planned for the evening. The first sign of thunder and he bolted. You waddled out towards the willow tree by the pond. He was cowered under the cover of draping limbs. He laid in the cradle of the roots, sniffling.
“Iomhair,” you coax him. “You need to come out.”
“No,” he mutters.
“Why not?” You plop down across from him.
He lifts his wide, dark eyes to you. “Aren’t you scared?”
You turn towards the horizon, seeing the dark clouds gathering overhead. “It’s just rain. Rain is good for the orchard.”
“But storms are scary,” he whimpers. “They can hurt people.”
“Well that may be true,” you frown. “But you’re somewhere safe. There is the house and the barn and you have my family and your family.”
He sniffles, rubbing his eyes.
“Come on out,” you hold your hands out to him. “You have me too.”
He stretches his hands out, taking yours and squeezing tight. “You promise?” He asks, standing with you.
“Of course!” You exclaim. “You’ll always have me.”
His smile is crooked but sweet and his tail swishes behind him. “Thank you,” he says. He walks behind you back to the house.
When it starts to get dark and rain, his family comes to collect him and head back home early before the storm set in. He runs up to his mother and hugs her.
“Mama! She’s going to be my bride!” He says excitedly.
His mother laughs. “Oh is that right?” She glances up at you and your face begins to burn bright.
“She told me so! So that I won’t be afraid of the storm.” He clutches his mother’s hand.
“That’s very sweet of her,” she winks at you. “Come along, we need to head home before the storm comes.”
Through the rest of the harvest, he talked non-stop about what your future would be like. You played house often and he talked about what the house would be like, how many children you would have, and so on and so on. After the harvest was over, he and his family moved on. Over the next few years, Iomhair began to change. He began growing bigger and stronger. He started working out in the orchard rather than sitting aside. He was something of a show-off too. He competed with the others in the crew often, seeing who could pick the most or haul the heaviest bushel. He wasn’t the same timid little fowl you grew up playing with.
Time went on and you became manager of the orchard when your father passed. Iomhair began leader of the crew and you had hired them to stay on year round since most of your father’s regular had quit or moved on since his death.
You had gotten the worker’s quarters refurbished and cleaned just for them so that once they arrived they could get settled and comfortable before harvest started. When they arrived, you directed everyone to take which houses and bunks they wanted and to come to you if anything was needed. Iomhair came and stood by your side, towering above you and making you feel insignificant. He was a much more daunting figure, you wondered if any of the crew would ever listen to you.
“My fiance’s word is law. You listen to her or you face my hooves,” Iomhair bellows out when some of the younger centaurs were cackling and making a ruckus.
You feel kicked in the gut. Did he just say what you think he said?
“Get into your quarters and be grateful for it. You’re dismissed.” He stomps his hoof and the crowd disperses, whispers and giggles echoing about. “Forgive me,” he says to you, “I hope I didn’t speak out of term.”
“I uh-” you’re not even sure what can be said. “Well…you certainly spoke.”
He touches your hair, running his fingers through the curls. “Your face is red. Are you sick?” He touches your forehead.
“No, you just-” you try to laugh it off as well as your nerves. “Calling me your fiance, was that really necessary?”
“Of course it was,” he says. “Because they need to know. You’ve been my betrothed since we were young.”
“We have?” You blurt.
His ears flick straight up and his scoffs. “Don’t you remember?”
Of course, you did. It was all he could talk about one harvest. “You really believed that? We were just kids playing!”
He looks around then puts his hand on your back and leads you back to your house. He kneels before you on the porch. “I took it very seriously,” his speaks low. “I always have. That’s why I started taking the harvest seriously and working with my family.”
You fidget as you look at him. It’s very obvious he’s been working. His body is beautiful and strong. His arms and chest looked like granite, his lower half would make any show-horse writhe with envy. Then there was you. Corn-fed all your life and served one too many of your mother’s award-winning apple pies. You have a soft and rosy babyface, a tummy, and thighs that clapped if you even thought about running. You weren’t anywhere near Iomhair’s caliber.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’m a bit stunned.”
He touches your cheek. “I should have been more upfront I admit. I got caught up in everything and forgot why I was doing it. But coming back here I always remember.” he eases in and all you can see if the baby pink. He kisses you and you moan softly to his skin. Pulling away you shake your head and cover your face.
“Don’t,” you murmur.
“Why?” He asks. “Do I taste bad?”
You chuckle. “No, Iomhair, no,” you look up at him. “That was just something we said as children. I never expected you to take it seriously. You don’t have to hold to that promise if you don’t want it.” You smile at him. “I understand if you don’t want to.”
He furrows his brow. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”
“Well, you’ve grown so lovely,” you play with your hair as you talk. “You must have all sorts of admirers. Girls and boys much more suited.”
“Sure I do,” he shrugs. “But they’ve never compared.”
You gulp.
“You’ve always been my standard and no one has reached it.” He tilts his head, watching as your face turns from pink to bright red. “I’ve never imagined being with anyone else.”
“That’s…well,” you try to steady your heartbeat again. “Even so!” You become resolute again. “I’m not-” you duck your head again.
“Not what?” He scoffs. He nudges you and tugs your chin up. “What are you supposed to be?” He says.
“Nevermind,” you sigh.
“You’re my standard,” he repeats. “That means you are ideal.”
You feel tears prickle in your eyes and he wipes them away before the fall. “If I need to prove myself to you, I will.”
“No!” You gasp, nearly jumping out of your seat. “You’re the ideal one! You have no idea how much you’ve touched me.”
He dips down, kissing you again. This time, you lean into it, kissing him back. The baby pink of his face is much softer than the rest, even his lips feel velvety.
“Then my fiance you remain,” he murmurs into your ear.
When harvest starts, you figure he’ll return to his competitive ways with the rest of the crew. You’re stunned when each morning, he greets you with a kiss. He comes during lunch to sit beside you. Then in the evening, he comes to have supper with you, leaving each night with a kiss.
He’s an amazing crew leader, much like his father was. He insists everyone get equal breaks, he even hauls the water. He’s not as hot-headed as he was a few years ago. In fact, he squashes that in some of the younger members.
One day it begins to rain. It starts heavy and soon comes down a flood. Iomhair makes sure everyone one gets home and then he comes to you. You had gotten caught in the rain trying to help set up sandbags along the riverbed. You were changing when he came to your door. Your answer, your shift wet and sticky to you, your towel barely covering you. He’s soaked to the bone as well and there is a strange look in his eye.
“Did everyone get home safe?” You ask as he steps inside.
He’s breathing hard and his hands are trembling.
You touch his arm. “Iomhair?”
“Can I sit with you?” he asks. “Like when we were kids?” He moves towards the fire and kneels down. He lays his head in your lap as you sit down.
“What’s wrong?” You ask again. “Are you still scared of storms?”
He frowns. “Not really,” he grumbles.
You run your fingers through his wet hair. “It’s ok. I won’t tell anyone. Our secret,” you press your finger to your lips.
His ears flick back and forth and he frowns for a moment. “I want to kiss you,” he mutters. “But if I do now, it could be bad.”
“You’ve never given me a bad kiss,” you tease.
He lifts his head, “not that kind of bad,” he grumbles. “Bad as in…won’t stop.”
You bite your lip. “Even that isn’t…bad.”
He sighs and kisses you softly. He touches your cheeks, his dark eyes gazing into yours. He kisses again and you gasp, feeling a strong heat to it. You plant your hands on his shoulders and run them down his chest.
“I’m sorry I-” he kisses again and his hands roam your body. They lift up your shift and touch your bare skin. “I wanted to wait but I-” he moans as he gropes your thighs, your soft belly. “You look so sweet right now.”
“Iomhair,” you moan as his lips trail down your neck. “If you wanted to wait ah-” you shiver as his fingers kneading your hips.
He pulls back, but his hands are still all over you. “I did want to wait,” he smiles at you. “A wedding night should be special after all.”
You blush, fidgeting. His touches and kisses have made for an uncomfortable ache to grow. You scoot closer to him and unbutton your shift. Opening it slowly you expose yourself to him and watch as his eyes grow wider and wider. His jaw drops slightly and his hands tremble as he touches your bare skin.
“A wedding night can still be special,” you murmur. “If you find the reason for it to be special.”
He kisses you again. “I suppose that’s true.” His hand wanders down your chest and stomach. “But-”
You sit up and guide his hand between your thighs. “Only touching,” you whisper. “Nothing more. We only touch.”
“Only touch,” he whispers, kissing you. “Ok. I can…I can agree to that.”
You press against his chest as his fingers trace the lines of your folds. You’re already wet and warm and his soft whinny in your ear makes you tremble. His strong fingers push a little deeper, finding the source of the dewy wetness. You nudge your forehead to his shoulder as he rubs your clit. You mewl and squeeze your thighs around his wrist.
He chuckles, his free hand petting your back. “Does it feel good?”
You nod, clinging to his strong arm. “Mhm.”
He gently presses a finger inside and your fingers dig into his bicep. You press closer and you nod more, wanting him to push more. He swallows and pants into your ear as he moves his fingers inside and out. You whimper, clinging to him more. His hand stroking your back joins in, slipping between your legs from behind and touching your folds. He slips that finger inside you while the slick one rubs your clit.
“Iomhair,” you whimper, feeling him bring you closer to the edge. You shiver, your inner walls clutching his finger tightly. You sigh, twitching as your cream oozes into his palm.
He slowly removes his finger, licking it and his palm clean. “Was that…good?” He asks.
You swoon, still having to hold onto him. “Unh-huh,” you nod slowly. “Now uhm…I’ll touch you.” You slip down his body as he rolls onto his side. His legs part and you see his cock laying on his belly.
It’s baby pink at the head-turning white and black closer to the base. You touch him, stroking down the long shaft and hearing his moans behind you.
You kneel down, rubbing your soft chest along the shaft. You lick the head as it pokes out from the top.
“Hey-” he moans.
“What?” You peek your eyes up at him.
“You said…only touching.” He reaches down and tugs your bottom lip. “Not licking.”
You bite back a smile and lick his thumb. “Licking is ok too.” He dips back down, rubbing his between your breasts and licking him. You take him into your mouth, sucking and moaning softly. His taste is sweet, almost like apples.
“Hey!” He whines again, his fingers tangling in your curls.
You take a little more of him, pulling back as saliva strings connect you. You lick your lips and he pulls back. “Too much?”
“Yeah.” He growls, nipping your ear. “You promised, only touching.”
“I couldn’t help myself.” You move as you kiss him, sliding into place so that he rubs against your entrance.
He groans, his hands firmly grasping your rear. “That’s-”
You roll onto your side, pressing your back against his underbelly. You guide him into place, slowly easing his head inside. You bite your lip, groaning as he stretches you wide. You ease down a little more and his hips buck, pushing inside you.
“Oh!” You gasp.
He growls above you as his rear bucks and jerks. He stills himself for a moment only to thrust back inside you. You whimper, clutching his leg. You hadn’t expected him to go so deep so fast.
“Warm,” he pants and you squeeze tighter around him.
“Big,” you murmur back, looking up at him.
He dips down, kissing you as he thrusts up inside again. You whimper, biting his lip as he sits back up. You can feel your peak build again, climbing higher and high until you fall. You cry out, knowing your voice is a little too loud. He brays and huffs, gasping for breath as his hips shudder and back legs kick, knocking over a side table and a few knick-knacks. He releases deep inside, flooding your womb and stuffing you so full it begins to glob out.
You both lay back, panting and gasping for breath. He pulls you cup, letting you lay on his broad chest. His hands cover you and knead your rear gratuitously.
“Only touching,” he murmurs. “You failed horribly.” he kisses your cheek.
You giggle. “It was a good fail I’d say.” he snuggle close to him, resting your head on his arm. “I can’t believe I did that,” you snort. “I’m never like that!”
“Well…I can’t let you take the full blame there.” He touches your belly, rubbing it gently. “I’ll have to marry you now for sure,” he huffs. “There’s no way I didn’t leave something behind. I won’t be surprised if we’re parents in the coming months.” He kisses your cheek lovingly.
You face burns. “Well…you did leave an awful lot.” You can still feel him oozing out slowly, warm and sticky. You know you have a mess on your hands, but not a really bad one when you think about it.
“Exactly,” he murmurs into your ear. “If this storm keeps raging, I’ll need your comfort again and I’ll leave more.” He nibbles your ear and chuckles, pushing you down onto the ground as his lips travel down.
You whine. “Only once and you’re already like this!” You shove weakly against him. “Iomhair, just go home then.”
“I am home,” he kisses you, stroking your cheek. “Because I’m with you.”
