A Dryad's Centaur

         The blazing reds and oranges mixed with the cool pastel blues and purples of a smoggy, mid-summer overcast. The bustling atmosphere of the city slid to a calm slow. The morning and afternoon rains trickled down walls and gutters, its descent echoing off the grimy brickwork of dark alleys. A black, putrid-smelling stream of runoff emptied down rusty iron curb drains.
  A centaur, known as Sindar to his friends, worked on getting drunk while he clopped his hooves north up Pratstrom Avenue, a near-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a faded red rag in the other.
  He adjusted the tilt of his dirty apple cap. The only other thing he wore was a safari shirt, with 'Harmung's Auto' emblazoned in bright blue lettering on the back. It was all a centaur could wear when it came to human clothes. The police would often hassle him about it, even get violent, but he managed to get by.   
    Sindar rounded the street corner, deciding, at the last minute, to pay a surprise visit to Meliai, a dryad who, for some reason, looked out for him. Whether it was a warm place to get out of the rain, a kind ear, or just to have someone to know in a city of strangers, she’d been there. And yet, nothing ever happened between them.
    Down the block, Sindar noticed a pair of police officers strolling toward him. This meant only one thing, Sindar thought, as he pitched the whiskey bottle behind a turned over trash can. It meant trouble.

~*~

    He didn't know what started it, or why, but the bruises on his chest and back, the deep gash across his forehead, and the cuts on his legs, all four of them, painfully reminded him that it didn't go well.
    He remembered the smart-mouthed copper on the left, the one who hit the hardest, made a comment about centaurs being the inbred bastard children of mythos.
    That wasn't it.
    The other copper, who hit like his fists were forged out of iron, sneered about Sindar's smell and appearance, that it was typical of impotent, centaur-kind.
    That wasn't it either.
    Maybe there wasn't a reason, Sinder told himself, while his battered horse legs wobbled feebly underneath him, leaving a dotted trail of blood on the sidewalk. Regardless of what drove him to fight with the coppers, he couldn't stay on the streets. He attracted too much attention, and he was close to collapsing.
    Sindar had to think fast. Meliai, he told himself. She's the only one he could trust.

~*~

    Sindar hobbled up the short flight of concrete stairs leading to the double-doors of Meliai's apartment building. He didn't know how he was going explain this to Meliai, but she was always good about things like this in the past. He hoped she would understand.
  Sindar squeezed through the doorway, and hobbled to the main hallway elevator.
  The elevator doors suddenly opened, and by chance, Meliai stepped out.
    At first she was surprised and disgusted, until she recognized who it was.
    "Sindar!" she cried, grabbing hold of him as he lurched forward. "What the hell did you do to yourself now?"
    Sindar was thankful to see her.
    "I was out chasing trucks again," he replied.
    "I believe it," said Meliai, wincing at his lumps and lacerations. "Come on, let's get you upstairs."
    "I knew you'd be good about it, Meli," said Sindar.
    "For you, I might as well be the emergency room."
    The two of them packed snugly into the elevator. Sindar barely had room to curve his body so Meliai could fit.
    As the elevator ascended up the floors, Meliai eyed Sindar.
    "Trucks, huh?" she said. "Chasing or stealing them?"
    "Come on, Meli." He adjusted his apple cap and forced a weak smile. "Do I look like one of those guys?"
    "Yes," she said sharply. "And you can stop calling me Meli. I can't stand pet names."
    "You got it."
    Meliai gave Sindar a sideways glance, but said nothing.
    Sindar adjusted his shirt, wiping off some of the grime and blood.
    "And what's wrong with how I look?" he said.
    "If you have to ask, Sindar...."
    The elevator doors squeaked open.
    Meliai followed gingerly alongside Sindar, giving him just enough room to tromp down the green-carpeted hallway. She feared she wouldn't be able to hold him should he start to fall. And she certainly couldn't leave him lying in the hallway.
    "Which one is it?" said Sindar, nodding at the apartment doors.
    "Third one on the right," she answered, never taking her eyes off his buckling legs.
    She took her keys from her pants pocket, opened the door to her apartment, and stepped aside.
    Sindar grit his teeth and wedged himself through the narrow doorway. Humans, he thought, they build everything too damn small.
    Once inside he found a wide enough spot in the living room, and dropped. The deep boom rattled the furniture, and the paintings on the walls.
    "Sorry Meli," Sindar said, forcing himself back up. He positioned his horse half in a lying position.   
    Meliai closed and locked the front door.
    "I'll get some warm water and the iodine," she said, heading to the bathroom.
    "Forget the water," Sindar hollered, massaging the bruises on his left arm. "I'll take whatever's strongest in your fridge, whiskey if you got it, but anything will work. Damn coppers," he added, feeling the bumps on his face.
    A few minutes later Meliai returned with a ceramic wash bowl filled with hot water, a hand towel, and a small brown bottle.
    She laid everything on the floor then knelt down beside a grumbling Sindar. She raised his shirt a little and inspected the cuts and bruises across his human waistline. She followed the mess downward until it ended just above the hocks of his front legs.
    "So what really happened?" she said, dampening the towel. "Back talk to another valkyrie again? Try to rob another pimp dwarf?"
    Sindar chuckled. "Yeah, those little fellas sure love blunt objects. I took a few cracks by Grinjer a few months back. Man that was a messy night," he added, watching the advertisement blimps hover over the Business District through one of the windows.
    Meliai looked up at Sindar and raised an eyebrow.
    "I know," she said disapprovingly. "I remember scrubbing the blood off my rug."
    Sindar looked down at her. When he noticed her irritable stare he started to blush. For the first time he thought about how much of a burden he'd been to her. All these years and she never said anything. Why?
    "I guess I'm not the best house guest," said Sindar shamefacedly.
    Meliai ran the warm, wet rag gently along his arms, wiping away the sweat, dirt, and blood.
    "You're not the worst," said Meliai. "But you're not the easiest either," she added harshly.
    Sindar put his hand on hers, stopping her washing his injuries, and stared into her eyes. His gaze worked over her figure, noticing the warm amber glow of her skin, and the silk shine of her sweet-scented russet hair as it flowed down the gentle curve of her back. 
    He was realizing things about her that he never did before, and suddenly, he couldn't help but admire, and want her.
    "How about second worst?" he said finally.
    Meliai smiled.
    "I think I can agree to that," she said.
    She rose up slowly, standing on her knees, and brushed her hand tenderly over the bruises marring the side of his jaw.
    Her touch was calming to him, better than any wandering daydream.
    "You never told me why?" he said.
    Meliai raised an eyebrow. "Tell you why?"
    "Why does a straight-walking dryad like you want to help a half-naked, dishonest bum like me?"
    She smiled back. Reaching up, she took off his cap and tossed it across the room.
    Sindar watched it slap off the wall.
    "I think you just stained your wall," he said.
    Meliai turned his attention back to her.
    "Sindar," she said, placing her finger on his lips.
    "Hmmm?"
    "Shut up."
    She leaned forward and kissed him. At first it was a soft touch of lips, but when she felt his large hand suddenly glide up her back, bringing her closer to him, she kissed harder, passionately, feverishly. She reached down and grabbed Sindar's other hand, placing it firmly on her butt.
    "It goes there," she said in-between kisses.
    Sindar ran his other hand along the front of her white, comic strip shirt. Her kisses grew stronger, warmer, and with a subtle taste of cinnamon. Suddenly he felt the wet touch of her tongue on his lower lip. She bit softly.
    Sindar moved his hand from her bottom to the front edge of her shirt, feeling the soft skin of her belly. He wanted to tear the shirt off, but hesitated. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what was acceptable.
    "Sindar," she whispered by his ear.
    "Yeah Meliai," he coughed, nervous as all hell.
    "Take it off already."
    Sindar quickly pulled off her shirt. He threw it over his shoulder, hearing it topple a table figurine to the floor.
    He stroked her supple breasts with his hands then gently squeezed them.
    She moved her kisses to his neck, biting and sucking.
    Holding her closer, Sindar unbuttoned and unzipped her blue jeans, and ran his fingers eagerly, feverishly, across her muff. Her skin suddenly felt softer, smoother, like the petals of a flower.
    He ran his fingertips lower, feeling the wet nub of her clit. He rubbed it gently, with a slow, circular motion.
    Meliai breathed heavier. Her bites on his neck became deeper, more passionate. Wispy lines of faded lime green began to appear on her skin. She started to unbutton his shirt.
    Sindar rubbed her clit faster, harder.
    She moaned and whimpered, her body rising and arching. A sharp, electric sensation washed over her, and she tore off his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.
    Sindar grabbed her jeans with both hands and pulled them off, along with her lavender panties. Meliai squeaked as she was suddenly lifted up high, her legs propped over his shoulders, his hands holding her up by the peach curves of her ass.
    Sinder sank his tongue into her pussy and swirled it, taking the taste of her. He slid his tongue in and out, and then flicked the tip of it along her wet clit.
    Meliai clenched Sindar's hair with an orgasmic, vice grip.
    "Don't stop," she gasped, louder and louder. "Keep doing that! Mmmph....Do it!"
    The wisps of green on her skin became more defined and brighter. She threw her head back, her russet hair flipping wildly, and let out a wild growl. Her legs squeezed.
    "Keep doing that, keep doing that..." she chanted, her eyes closed. "Faster...faster...just like that! Fuck!"
    Her orgasm came hard. Her body shuddered and trembled.
    A moment later she relaxed. Her breathing slowed.
    Sindar brought her down slowly. She clasped her hands round the back of his neck, and wrapped her legs tightly round his waist.
    "Raspberry," he said with a boyish grin.
    "What?" she laughed, still shaking.
    "Tastes like raspberries."
    Meliai buried her face in his chest and laughed.
    "Sindar," she said.
    "Meli?"
    She brought her head up and smiled.
    "Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."
    She leaned back to look down the length of his horse body to the area she was interested in. It was big, she thought, and looked surprisingly more human than horse, which was a relief. Still, she thought, this would prove to be a challenge, but that might make it more interesting.
    "How do we do this, exactly?" she said.
    "Do what?"
    She nodded at his hindquarters, a naughty smile on her wrinkle-nosed face.
    "Oh, that." Sindar rolled his eyes upward, unsure how to answer. He was getting nervous again.
    Meliai caressed his cheek with the side her hand.
    "Relax, Sindar," she said. "We'll figure it out as we go."

WC: 2,000