Att wasn’t sure how long he had been in love with Milia. He had been with the group of adventurers for about a year, so a few months sounded right. The small street urchin had been little more than a bundle of skin, bones and rags when he had first joined the group, his ability to pick locks, move silently and, at times, distract enemy fire earning him a place on the team. Since then… well, not much had changed really. True, he now had access to slightly more appealing clothing (though it was often dirtied from long, cross-country journeys and raids of old, crumbling fortresses) and he could bathe more frequently, but he didn’t look a great deal different. He was still small and fragile, almost petite, with soft, round features and a head topped with auburn curls. He was so unlike Milia. She towered over Att, and most of the others in the party. She was a Minotaur, one of those strange beasts from the far south, where the sea broke up the land into warm islands and the sun always shone. That was how she described her homeland, anyway. Milia was a towering, beautiful woman, with soft, swarthy, sun kissed skin over muscles that were clearly defined, but not so large as to make her seem masculine or otherwise unwomanly. Her bovine legs and tuft-ended tail were covered in black fur, matching the colour of her long wild hair, broken apart at the front of her head by two curling horns. While Att had never ogled her, he could tell that, compared to most human women, she was well endowed: her great breasts heaved when she breathed deeply, and when she walked her shapely bottom swayed from side to side in an almost hypnotic manner. Milia was a warrior. Whenever the party had to fight, she would always be at the front of the charge, overtaking even the West Lander who led the group, swinging an axe, club or whatever other weapon she was currently in possession of. Att would always hang at the back, completely useless in combat situations regardless of the knife he carried. However, whenever a battle did develop in such a way that Att was in danger, Milia was always there to defend him. She would always stand between his cowering body and whatever villain or other threat they were fighting against. The incident that stood out most clearly in Att’s memory was the adventurers’ courageous battle to clear out an old watch tower in the Hebian plains that had become infested with Orcs. As the others fought, Att had retreated into what he thought a safe hiding place, only to discover that he had cornered himself with no means of escape when a group of she-Orcs broke away from the battle and started to advance on him, each with a horrifying look of hunger and malicious intent on their faces. Att was practically in tears by the time the beasts stood over him. They reached out for him as he cowered in the corner at their feet, only for several of them to be smashed aside and sent flying by a sweep of the huge mace in the hands of Milia. The Minotaur stood taller than even the muscular, olive-skinned women and with a great bellow she felled several more and sent the rest running. And when the whole thing was over she had held Att to her as he trembled and sobbed, and she had defended him as the others questioned his usefulness to the team. Even if Att could not remember when exactly he had fallen in love with Milia, if such a point in time even existed, that day was definitely a key moment in the development of his feelings for her. Att had tried, several times, to pluck up the courage to confess his feelings to Milia. Every time he had tried, he had failed. Whenever the two were sleeping near each other, or were alone together while the rest of the party was off doing other jobs, Att tried to tell her. Several times, he had gotten as far as opening his mouth, only for the words to catch in his throat while Milia smiled patiently at him. At these times, after several seconds of his mouth hanging open dumbly, Att would usually scurry off in embarrassment. It would then take him several days to again feel brave enough to even try telling her, only for his words to fail him yet again and reset the cycle. -- Att found himself alone with Milia again, in a forest clearing on a cool spring afternoon. However, it was definitely not a good moment to confess his feelings to her, as the two had stumbled across the horrifying beast that the party had split up to find. The monster was a great wolf-like creature, its matted grey fur covered in curling, twisting patterns in dull blue and black. It was a result of some sorcery or magical presence in the local area, and it had become the group’s target when they had learnt that it was terrorising merchant caravans on the nearby road. Milia had a wooden club. Att had his small knife. Neither weapon was particularly suited for slaying horrifying wolf monsters. While Att did his best to keep back, sticking to the shadows of the trees surrounding the clearing, Milia and the beast circled each other. The beast moved first. It darted at Milia, covering the space between the two in the blink of an eye. She moved quickly, swinging the crude club against the head of the beast. It connected hard, and the beast went sprawling. The monster landed, rolled across the floor, but then sprang back to its feet in a moment. It dived for the Minotaur and, again, she swung the club with enough force to break bones. Regardless, whatever magical strength the beast had meant that, even as the hit landed, its skeleton did not shatter. Again, it was simply sent rolling, and then it was on its feet again. The fight continued in a similar manner for a short while. The creature was on the offensive. Milia countered every attack, but the beast kept coming. Att was sure that, eventually, the animal would tire itself out and Milia would get the upper-hand. But it was then that the creature darted for her, and its body seemed to twist low in a manner so lithe that it bypassed the swing of Milia’s club and barrelled into her. Its jaws snapped at her, and while it did not succeed in biting Milia, its body suddenly flexed and slammed into her. Milia was sent flying backwards, landed, rolled and hit a tree with a loud crack. She didn’t get back up, and the beast began to advance on her. Att felt helpless. He was standing there, in the shade of the trees, staring at Milia’s limp form and willing her to get back up. The wolf-thing was nearly upon her. Saliva was dripping from its jaws. Its mouth was opening, fangs glinting wetly in its gaping maw. It was going to hurt her. With what was meant to be a ferocious roar but came out as more of an outraged squeal, Att ran into the clearing and flung himself at the monster. He grabbed onto it, clinging to its filthy fur, eyes screwed shut, and began to swipe wildly with his knife. The beast was roaring and growling, its body twisting and thrashing. Att could feel a judder going through his arm each time the knife tore open the monster’s skin. The creature managed to throw the boy from its body with a great writhing motion. Att hit the ground hard and his knife fell from his grasp. Blood had sprayed across his body, warm and dark red. The monster, its attention now focused fully on Att, was approaching. He could see that its side was now riddled with jagged wounds, each one trickling blood, but they seemed to have done nothing but infuriate the creature further. It was practically standing over Att now. Its warm breath was on him, and a drip of foul spit fell from its dark mouth onto his face. But before it could tear through his body, Milia bought her club down on its head with such force that it splintered and split in half. The monster’s skull shattered, the shape of its head deforming and fragments of bone poking through its skin with another spray of blood. -- Milia reported their success back to the group. The Minotaur carried the boy, his blood soaked body cradled in her arms. Att wasn’t harmed, but in such a state of shock that Milia had found it was quicker to just carry him on their way back to the others rather than trying to get him to walk. The others congratulated them on a job well done. Milia insisted they give their praise to Att, but he didn’t take much notice of the others as they offered him awkward praise. The party leader decided that they would make camp nearby, sleep for the night, retrieve the creature’s corpse in the morning and then head back to the manor of the local lord for their reward money. While the others began to set up a fire and spread out bedrolls in the fading light, Milia gathered up Att’s night clothes and then lead the boy to the nearby stream. Now that the initial shock of the event had worn off, Att had begun to whimper and then cry. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he allowed Milia to undress him. She slipped his blood spattered clothes off of his body and then put a hand on his back, pushing him gently into the waters. The boy sat in the tepid stream, washing himself down as Milia sat close-by at the waters edge, wiping the blood from her own body and doing her best to rub the red stains out of Att’s clothing. Night was practically upon the forest when Milia took Att’s hand and lead him back to the others. She had handed the boy his night clothes after he had gotten out of the stream, and he was now dressed in a thin, undyed woollen tunic and hose. When they reached the camp, the others were sat around the fire, some already in their own night clothes, several still finishing their small meals. They offered Milia and Att food, but both turned it down. The Minotaur immediately led Att to her bed roll and had him sit there as she fetched Att’s own. Milia dragged the boy’s bed roll next to hers and then lay down next to Att as he sat there. After a few moments, he shifted himself until he was lying next to her, and she pulled the blankets over the two of them. Now that he had finished washing himself, Att’s thoughts were again drawn back to the fight. The warm blood. The look of feral rage in the beast’s eyes. Milia’s body, limp against the tree. Again, it was too much, and Att’s body began to shake as fresh tears started to roll down his face. He took a shuddering gasp of air, but his next sob was cut short as Milia’s warm arm wrapped around him. She pulled him against her own body, the heat from her flooding through Att, making him feel so safe as she cradled him against her. He laid facing away from Milia, and her great body curved around his own. He could feel her muscled arms and stomach pressing against him, so strong and sturdy. Even through his night clothes he could feel the fur of her legs tickling him. He did not stop crying, but quietened down as she stroked his hair and cooed to him in the flickering light of the fire. By the time the fire had died and the others had clambered into their own sleeping rolls, Att had fallen into a half-sleep. He was awoken by the feeling of Milia shifting herself as she wriggled out of her clothing beneath the sheets. The Minotaur rarely wore anything other than an undecorated brassier and loin cloth, and Att knew (simply as a matter of something he had noticed) that she always slept naked. When Milia had tossed these simple garments away, she pulled Att against herself again. The removal of Milia’s clothing had not changed much, but Att could now feel two soft, warm nipples poking into his back, and a slight heat against his bottom, which was aligned with the gap between Milia’s thighs. The two of them lay like that for a while. Neither said anything, but Att knew Milia was awake because she was still stroking his hair and squeezing him reassuringly in the darkness. It was there, in the warmth of the spring night and each others bodies that he rolled over and pressed himself against her body. He buried his face into her neck, and whispered. “Milia?” “Yes?” came the soft reply. “I love you.” Att waited. Milia was silent. Had she fallen asleep? Had he annoyed her? He wriggled uncomfortably in the silence, but then he felt her arm move. She placed a hand under his chin and pulled his face upwards, towards her own, and he could feel her breath on his skin. Then her lips pressed against his, warm and soft. The kiss lasted a few seconds before Milia broke away, leaving Att gazing at what he could see of her face in the darkness. His face displayed bewilderment, hers adoration. Milia pulled Att tighter to her body, and kissed him again. This time, a few seconds into the kiss, Att felt something warm pressing against his lips, forcing them apart and slipping into his mouth. His body shivered at the odd feeling of the oral intrusion. He didn’t know if putting your tongue in someone else’s mouth was a normal part of kissing, or if it was some sort of a special Minotaur kiss. Again, Milia broke the kiss. Her tongue pulled out of Att’s mouth, and he could feel a thin strand of saliva between her tongue, still sticking out slightly, and his own mouth. The strand broke and fell across Att’s chin, and the Minotaur leaned forward to lick it away before her tongue retreated into her own mouth. The small boy lay against Milia, doing his best to wrap his arms around her body as she wrapped her own around him. Her grip was tightening, pulling him closer against her body, her warmth and sweet smell flooding his body. She was hugging him so tightly that it was almost uncomfortable. Just as Att was about to squeak from discomfort, Milia relaxed. A muscled arm left the embrace and slipped down between Att and Milia’s bodies. The Minotaur moved her hands beneath his tunic and tickled his stomach, eliciting a slight giggle from the boy. Milia’s hand moved again, this time entering his hose and cupping his crotch. Att let out a slight gasp as he felt her skin on his private part. He had been told in the past that it was bad for people to touch others there, but when Milia gently squeezed him it didn’t feel wrong. It felt even less wrong when her hand started to move, gently squeezing and rubbing. Att let out a gasp and a slight whimper as a particularly firm squeeze made him twitch. He felt as if, down below, he was getting harder. It was not a completely new sensation, but one he was not accustomed to. The boy reached out and tried to wrap his arms around Milia’s neck, and again bury his face in the warm darkness. But this time she placed her hand on the back of his head and pushed down, moving his face to her bare chest. His mouth, still slightly open as he breathed heavily, found a fleshy nipple as the strong hand manoeuvred his head. Her teat pressed into his mouth and, almost instinctively, Att began to suck.