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According to most people, answering the phone while a dick was getting up close and personal with your cervix was not the best plan of action in most situations—however, Daine considered her case a special one

Firstly, it always took ages to convince her boyfriend that penetrative sex was a good idea and then an age or two more to get to the sex itself, and secondly, Onua had a habit of investigating when her phone calls were ignored.

The first was down to Numair being daft as well as a romantic. She could tease and flirt until he was frantic, but he would remain a gentleman until the end—which only involved giving her the fucking she desperately wanted when they had hours for preparation and aftercare as well as very thorough lovemaking. She loved that about him only slightly more than she hated that about him, but no matter how she felt, it was nothing short of a miracle that had him buried inside her in the back of the minivan Onua used to transport supplies. If she stopped now, the mood would be permanently disrupted and she would be left high and dry until their next date.

The second was down to Onua knowing her best assistant quite well. The number of times Daine had failed to pick up her calls could be counted on her fingers, and all of them had involved Daine trapped in some compromising or dangerous position (usually in pursuit of some animal or another) which kept her from answering.

Seeing as her phone was in range and she desperately did not need rescuing (except, perhaps, from her own libido), her response to hearing Onua's special jingle was to lift off of Numair and then crawl over to her jeans (ignoring his tight, frustrated, resigned sigh), retrieve her phone, and then crawl back over to him before he could get any bright ideas like 'cleaning up' or 'leaving'.

Phone in hand, she straddled him in reverse cowgirl position, lined the head of his cock up with her opening, and then unceremoniously dropped, plunging him into her sex once again.

Numair let out a strangled grunt, asking, "Daine, what—?" then cutting off as she swiped the Accept Call circle.

She'd perhaps been a bit hasty about it—she was still seeing stars and trembling all over at how much he was when Onua started talking.

"Daine? Are you there?"

"'M here," she croaked, then cleared her throat. She still wheezed when she said, "I'm here. Did you need something?"

"Are you okay?" Onua asked, concerned.

Daine leaned forward until she could brace herself against the driver's seat headrest and let herself just breathe for a minute. "Yeah." Slowly, she rolled her hips so Numair slid out and then pushed back in, and he choked back another grunt and clutched at her. "Decided to take a break and go for a ride," she added, swatting his hands off and aiming a mischevious grin over her shoulder. "I hope you don't mind."

Numair glowered at her.

(Girls like Daine were not necessarily meant to take cocks like Numair's, so his dedication to prep made a depressing amount of sense. Not that that was going to stop her—as long as she didn't try to bottom out she'd be fine—but it meant that she was using her core muscles much more than a girl who wasn't trying to ride an impressively thick nine-inch erection would be, and it was going to show. Might as well call it what it was.)

"Mind?" said Onua as Daine worked herself up to a convincing trotting pace, well-slicked skin stroking through her sex and winding the promise of orgasm in her core ever tighter. "Nah. You've been in a hell of a funk all week. You deserve a break."

"Thanks, Onua," Daine said, and meant it. That didn't stop her from bouncing as sharply as she could without making the suspension squeak, tightening around Numair's girth with everything in her.

Numair breathed a litany of curse words, some of which were directed at her and some of which weren't, and she grinned again.

"Did y' need somethin'?" she added, casual as she could manage while she was still thoroughly out of breath. It was unlike Onua to call for no reason.

"Daine," Numair cut in firmly—hang up right now, I swear to god, went unsaid.

"Is that Numair?"

"He decided to come with me," Daine informed her cheerfully, knowing exactly what look Numair was aiming at her back right now (betrayed, impressed, amused, incredulous).

"Oh, that's where he went." said Onua, in the tone of a mystery solved. "His car was in the driveway and I couldn't find him."

"I have 'im right here," Daine huffed, grinding down and squeezing again, shivering at the way it made her skin crackle electricity all over. Numair emitted a strange, muffled noise as he tried not to choke. His right hand grabbed at her hip again, but seeing as he wasn't trying to stop her, she allowed it.

"Good to know," Onua said, then snorted. "Riding a horse of his own will—never thought I'd see the day. You're something special."

Daine didn't point out that she'd never said anything about horses, then felt her ears and cheeks warm up in a different kind of pleasure at the last three words.

"No, look, I'm getting off-track." Onua sighed. "Gareth is thinking about breeding his Thoroughbred and I wanted to get your opinion on possible sires."

Normally, talk of breeding horses was business-as-usual to Daine.

Normally, the head of Numair's very bare member wasn't nudging her cervix.

"Oh," she squeaked.

(She'd gone and gotten an implant as soon as she realized she was in a long-term relationship that would hopefully involve a substantial amount of sex, because she was living proof of the fallibility of condoms and pills (though, knowing her mother, those pills had probably been taken very erratically), but that didn't change the fact that the goal of the next several minutes was to get Numair to come inside her.)

She'd stopped abruptly at the words, which let her feel the throb and twitch of the man inside her, and she couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"He's not breeding for racing, so I'm looking at the overall health of our stallions," Onua went on, thinking nothing of Daine's odd tone—she was riding, after all. "There's always outsourcing, but I'd prefer to offer in-house options, if we can."

As she spoke, Numair had let go of Daine's hip and moved his large, warm hand to rest against the stretch between her snatch and bellybutton. Not pushing, not stimulating, just... reminding.

She bit down on her lip so she wouldn't whine, searing heat racing through her veins, flooding her breasts and belly, throbbing in her clit.

She couldn't even tell if the touch was for her benefit or his.

(If she let herself think about it, she knew he wanted kids. If she let herself think about it, she knew he wanted rings and vows and white picket fences even more. If she let herself think about it, she was pretty sure he wanted all those things with her.

If she let herself think about it, the only thing that kept her from agreeing was the idea of forever—and the fear that one day, he wouldn't want it anymore.

She didn't let herself think about it much.)

Onua was listing their stallions and her thoughts on each one, but Daine couldn't remember any of them for the life of her, thoughts wiped completely blank by the hand blanketing her abdomen.

Her hips stuttered back into a rhythm of their own accord, instinctively trying to get enough direct stimulation to push her over the edge, and Numair's hand moved with her, his other coming up to brace her from behind.

"So, what do you think?" Onua asked. Daine was fuzzily aware that the list of stallions had trailed off into silence a beat or three too long ago.

She scrambled what she could find of her wits together in a hurry.

"S-Sorry, Onua," she half-slurred. The effort of not whimpering took up most of her focus. "I can't... r-remember much right now." She locked her jaw and forced air into, then out of her lungs. "When I get back..."

"Ha, right," said Onua ruefully, blissfully unaware of the sheer amount of slick dripping down to Numair's balls. "Sorry. Usually you can rattle off so much information about the horses that I forget you don't have the whole registry memorized." (Daine, did, in fact, have the whole registry memorized.) "I'll give you a chance to look it over before I email Gareth back."

"Thanks," Daine said, grateful, as a bead of sweat tickled down her back. She'd thoroughly forgotten what Gareth had to do with any of this.

"Ah, while I have you here, I was thinking about the fair. Originally I didn't want to send any of ours, but Miri just told me she's volunteering. I know if she's there, she'll make sure they're treated right."

"Miri?" Daine echoed, which was about as much as she could manage at the moment. It was getting easier, away from the subject of breeding, but she was still feeling its effects and Numair now had her backside in both of his big hands and was guiding her into an easy canter. The sheer fullness of him was making it impossible to see straight.

"The girl's come far! You haven't seen her recently so you wouldn't know, but she's even gotten on the better side of Peachblossom."

Daine knew that. Probably. Everything was hazy and shimmery and good. She put the majority of her weight on the seat in front of her and tried not to gasp as she replied, "That's fair amazing."

"Well, I'm sure I won't send Peachblossom," Onua said, wry. "But Mangle and Spots are good with children, so I was thinking of sending them."

Numair angled her body just so, and the next thrust hit her g-spot hard. Daine's vision went white as she felt it through every last inch of her.

"Mm-hm," Daine agreed to... something, quavering, which was much better than the loud squeal that had wanted to escape her. Numair hissed a breath through his teeth as she clenched around him frantically.

Her nipples were painfully tight and her clit nearly groveled for attention, but they were ignored as Daine wrangled the shreds of herself back under control and started trying to participate in the ride again.

Numair angled her hips again and it was all for naught.

"So, any thoughts?" Onua prompted again.

"No," said Daine with a grunt, trying and only partially succeeding in keeping her gulping breaths quiet. "N-none."

She wasn't sure she'd ever have another thought again, actually—if Numair hit that spot again, she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't just combust into goo and never turn back.

"Still in a funk, I see," said Onua dryly. "Well, enjoy your ride with Numair—he'll be able to get you out of it."

"Mm-nnnnnn," Daine groaned, unable to formulate anything else around the steady, deep, heavy, thick pumping of her 'ride with Numair.'

Apparently it sounded aggravated enough to pass, because Onua just snorted. "He will, just you wait and see. Later, Daine."

Daine didn't bother to attempt a reply. Her phone slipped in her sweaty hands as she fumbled for the End Call button, and it took her three ties to swipe it to the edge of the screen, but once she was absolutely sure it was off, she dropped it into the front seat and let out the loud, garbled, unintelligible noise that had been sitting in her throat for the entire call.

Once she was done, Numair stilled her hips, thumbing the divots in her lower back. Daine felt him sit up, both of them trembling.

"I really should just pull out and leave you like this for that stunt," he rasped conversationally, a threat that was doubly effective for the way he rested one large hand on her inner thigh, as close to the apex as he could get without actually touching it, and slid the other up her ribcage, coming to a stop right below her breast. "We shouldn't have been doing this in the first place."

She whimpered her panic, almost choking on it, despite knowing that he wouldn't actually leave her—his merciful soul and own desperation aside, he knew she was absolutely useless when he edged her, and she still had the rest of her shift to get through.

"I can't believe you talked me into it," he mused, voice terribly steady for how bad his hands were trembling, but he captured and cupped her breast as he said it, pinching her aching nipple at exactly the right pressure, and Daine keened senselessly.

It only took a couple more frantic bounces—this time with two of Numair's fingers positioned exactly right to rub while she worked him in and out—and she was gone.

Under the torrent of pleasure, she heard herself cry out as she came and came and came and came, and then heard Numair's muffled groan of completion through the blood pounding in her ears as her aftershocks coaxed him over the edge.

(It didn't escape her notice that some of his seed would end up in her womb, however uselessly. She wasn't letting herself think about it.)

She was almost deadweight when he lifted her off of his cock and turned her around in his arms, but she was there enough to participate in the kisses that followed, fingercombing his long hair and purring for his huffing laughter.

Kisses for the sake of kisses and touch for the sake of touch, nuzzles and sweet talk and I love yous—apparently even a quickie necessitated them.

It was one of the first things she'd learned after they got together; if she was useless when she was edged, then Numair was little better when he was denied this. Grouchy, mopey, crabby, and no number of food bribes or book bribes would sate him until he'd had her to himself for at least a solid hour of cuddles and affection, both given and received.

She didn't know if that was normal—most of the men her Ma had seen were gone before she woke up, but the men that liked Ma had been a very certain kind of man—but she didn't mind it, even if she didn't understand it or need it herself. It was fair sweet, really, and it felt nice, too.

After that, Numair was content to towel off the mess and put his clothes back on, but Daine decided that the weather was warm enough and she was uncomfortably dirty enough that a quick hosing down was in order.

Numair tied up her hair for her and then turned his back while she yelped and giggled her way through her washing, only to slowly give up pretending that he wasn't watching as her efforts persisted. She drafted him into holding the hose after that, and had a much easier time of it.

He was flushed scarlet and well out of breath with what looked like a painful level of arousal by the time he came to wrap her in a towel of her own and retrieve his hair tie. He leaned down to kiss her, and the kiss was meltingly soft despite it all. "Were you dragging that out on purpose?" he asked when they broke apart, letting her hair tumble around her shoulders.

"No, sir," she answered honestly. She wrinkled her nose. "Much too cold for that."

He nuzzled her, and she stole another kiss while he was close enough for her to do it.

"Well," he said almost philosophically, voice mostly gone. He stroked the newest mark he'd given her—a tender patch of skin on her shoulder right next to her neck that she was sure would show itself to be an impressive hickey once she found a mirror to check it in. "At least you're not being an intentional tease."

She put on her best butter-wouldn't-melt look, and he narrowed his eyes.

"S'not me bein' a tease if you're the one who won't take no invitation," she pointed out.

"Won't take an invitation," he corrected automatically, then realized what he said and shut his mouth, blushing again.

She grinned and backed out of his hold so she could brace herself against a post and dry her legs.

Numair took his defeat with a sigh. "I'm going to... go air out the van."

She nodded her thanks and swiped the water off her right flank. She thought she heard a muffled groan, but when she looked, Numair was already walking away, twisting the tie around his neat horsetail.

When Daine returned, Onua took her assistant's sudden good mood in stride.

"Told you he'd cheer you up," she told her as the three of them unloaded hay bales by the barn at the end of the day.

Daine glanced over her shoulder at the man in question with a fond smile. "He's good at that," she acknowledged.

He caught her and smiled back, quiet adoration in his eyes. "It's my superpower."

Daine went for another hay bale before that look could drag her any closer to thinking about rings and vows and kids than it already had.

(One year. One more year until she got her Bachelor's, and then... if he was still around...

Maybe she'd start letting herself think about it.)

Thankfully, Onua missed the unspoken portion of the exchange.

"I should just start calling him up every time you get like this," she continued thoughtfully. "He's got the magic touch. The Daine-whisperer."

Daine's gaze had cut over to Numair's at 'magic touch', and she had to admire the strength of his poker face. She couldn't manage a look that blank.

"You have my number," he said graciously—and it was only because Daine was listening for it that she caught the bland humor in the words.

"So I do," said Onua, dropping her bale on the stack and dusting her hands. "So? What manner of zoological trivia did he serenade you with this time?"

Daine caught Numair's eye again, then said, "It was biology this time, actually. We went back to the basics."

He shot her a Look.

She grinned unrepentantly.

When he looked away, he was chewing the corner of his mouth against a smile of his own.

"Biology?" Onua echoed.

"Y'know, life cycles, reproduction, genetics," Daine said. Her smile this time was much more innocent than the one she'd given Numair.

"Oh, because of the horses," Onua said. Daine wasn't about to correct her. "Did you get the chance to look at the registry, by the by?"

The reminder of that conversation sent hot awareness zipping through Daine's abdomen once again, but she suppressed her blush and said, "Not yet, but I was thinking about Peachblossom, after you mentioned him..."

Debating the merits of each stallion and narrowing them down to a handful that would suit Gareth's aims took up much of the rest of the chores—they went fast with an extra set of hands, and Numair seemed content to help out as long as they needed him—and then the three of them were standing by the front of the ranch, three cars parked in the wide driveway.

Daine was achy and dozy with exertion by the time they got there. Her hips, thighs, and core were sore in ways they rarely were, even after a very good date, and the post-coital urge to sleep had been nagging at her louder and louder for the past several hours.

"Hey, Onua?" Daine said, suppressing a yawn as Numair took out the fob for his obscenely expensive hybrid. "D'you mind if I take a nap on your couch before I go? Not sure it's a good idea for me t' drive when 'm this tired."

She hated to ask, but her other options would be to ask Numair to not only drive her home, but to drive her back to the ranch in the morning so she could pick up her car, or to take to the road on her own and pray she didn't fall asleep on the highway. Hopefully Onua didn't have any pressing plans for the evening.

She found both older adults looking at her with concern.

"Of course not," said Onua, frowning. "But—is everything okay? It's only seven. Normally you're still raring to go at this hour."

Daine glanced at Numair before she could catch herself, and chagrined understanding flickered across his face.

"Oh, well..." Daine floundered, and Onua's brow knit.

"She's had a hard day," Numair said gently, sympathetically, without an ounce of indication that he'd noticed the innuendo.

It was one beat too late.

Onua eyed them both, suspicion growing by the second. She inhaled, opened her mouth, said, "Did... are you two..." and then trailed off.

Daine gave her a confused version of the butter-wouldn't-melt smile she'd given Numair. "What?"

The moment stretched out as Onua stared her down, then looked back at Numair, who had wiped his face clean of incriminating evidence, then back at Daine—then exhaled sharply.

"No, never mind," she said with a smile. "Don't know what I was thinking. C'mon—" That was aimed at Daine. "—I know you like that old quilt, but let me get you real blankets this time."

"Thanks, Onua," said Daine, and meant it. Carefully, she tweaked the collar of her overshirt to better hide the hickey she still hadn't gotten a look at.

They bid Numair goodnight to the clicks and chirps of his car, and he caught her eye one last time when Onua's back was turned.

He gave her another one of those looks, warm and deep and soft and adoring, and Daine took hold of her quivering rabbit heart, forced it to stay right where it was, and smiled back.

One year.

When Daine and Numair announced their relationship after Daine's graduation, the general reaction was something between bemused acceptance, forehead-thumping why didn't I see that coming exasperation, and congratulatory cheers of it's about time!

The most memorable reaction, however, was Onua's affectionate felicitations—and how they rapidly descended into unbridled fridge-horror.