Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bonnie was acutely aware of Bigby's fear of fire. It was a cloak and friend to her, but a terrifying thing for him. The A-shaped brand on the side of his head was a constant reminder of it, etched deep into his skin. She watched him from across the campfire, his eyes darting nervously towards the flames every few seconds.

"You're safe," she said softly, stirring the pot of stew. "I've got it contained."

Her rib-sticker, a long iron poker that had an eternally red-hot tip, was stuck handle first into the dirt. Its glowing end rested directly against the thickest log feeding the fire.

"I see." Bigby watched the sizzling point, a bead of sweat tracing the scar beside his eye. His left wrist was bound with chains close to his body, fist resting on his right shoulder as it gripped his cloak.

The Vestal's Secret was a day away from being under siege by beastmen, and the two had been on their way to that inn to offer support.

Bigby had been even more melancholy than usual. Probably wondering if his own beast curse was somehow related to the creatures threatening the inn.

Bonnie stirred the pot, the steam curling up towards the darkening sky. "Hungry?" she asked, her voice deliberately light.

He didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames as if hypnotized. She saw his knuckles whiten around the fabric of his cloak, the chains at his wrist clinking faintly with his shallow breaths. Something was tucked under his free arm, held close to his body.

"Bigby?" Bonnie pressed, her spoon hovering over the stew. The silence stretched, thick with the crackle of the fire and the distant cry of a nightjar. His stillness unnerved her—more than the usual melancholy. She hoped the beast wasn't about emerge again.

"When we came to the campsite, I found this." Bigby shifted to reveal the book under his arm. "I was wondering if you'd read to me."

"You're a scholar, but you can't read?" Bonnie asked.

"I can read. It's just an invitation to... to share." He extended the book toward her. The title read Book of Bawdy Tales. "On the off chance that you'd be interested in a beast like me..."

Bonnie took the book, and flipped it open to a random page. The ink was faded, but the illustrations were unmistakably crude. She raised an eyebrow. "You want me to read this? Now?"

Bigby blushed, his skin turning a greenish color from the eldritch blood in his veins. He shifted uncomfortably, chains clinking softly against his cloak. "It's... just a story," he mumbled. "Something to distract from..." His gaze flickered toward the fire again, then to the horizon where The Vestal's Secret lay.

"What's your goal? If you're interested in women, there are much better choices at the inn."

"I'm interested in you. I like you, Bonnie. Is that a crime?" He gestured toward the distant inn. "Those women? They'll take one look at me and run. You... you look at me like I'm still human."

Bonnie opened her mouth briefly before closing it again. Attention from men was foreign to her, but not unheard of. A lot of people mistook her for a boy at first glance, with her shaggy hair and dark, baggy clothes. "I look at you like you're Bigby," she finally said. 

"It's more than anyone else gives me." The firelight caught the vulnerable curve of his neck as he tilted his head. "That's why I want you to read it. Because afterward... maybe you'll see something worth wanting?"

"What a strange, timid little man you are. Your beast form is twice my size. If you wanted to satisfy yourself, you could simply take what you wanted. And yet you use this..." She held up the book. "As an attempt to seduce me?"

Bigby flinched as if struck. The chains at his wrist rattled sharply. "I would never. That's the point." He looked away. "The beast... it wants to take. I fight it. Every day. This... asking... it's the opposite."

He swallowed thickly, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Bonnie had noticed the beast's bile tended to come up when he got nervous.

Bonnie traced the worn leather cover with her thumb. "So you're asking for permission," she said quietly.

The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks upward. Bigby flinched violently, his chains jerking taut as he recoiled. His breath hitched, ragged and shallow, eyes wide with terror fixed on the embers dancing in the dark.

Bonnie set the book aside and reached for her rib-sticker. With deliberate, quiet movements, she used the tip to push the thickest log deeper into the coals, collapsing the fire’s structure. The flames shrank instantly, dimming to a subdued, deep red glow.

Bigby’s breathing eased as the immediate threat receded. He uncurled slightly, though his knuckles remained white against his cloak.

"Do you want my permission, or my pity?" Bonnie kept her voice low, watching the tension coil in his shoulders.

"It seems I've overstepped," Bigby murmured, his voice tight as he stared at the dampened fire. The chains shifted against his cloak as he drew his knees closer. "I thought... perhaps the book might bridge the gap. A foolish hope."

Bonnie studied his hunched form. The dim glow softened the harsh lines of his brand but deepened the shadows under his eyes. "You haven't answered my question," she pressed.

Bigby lifted his gaze slowly. "Permission," he rasped. "Always permission. The beast doesn't ask." His bound fist clenched tighter against his shoulder. "But... I understand if it's too much. The book was a poor idea."

Bonnie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. The dim firelight caught the sharp angles of her face. "Tell me," she said, her voice low and deliberate. "What exactly does the beast want to do? Not you. The beast." She watched his pupils dilate, the faint green flush creeping up his neck. "Be specific."

A shudder ran through Bigby's frame. His chains clinked as he shifted. "It... smells your skin," he wheezed. "Wants teeth on your throat. Not to hurt. To... taste. To pin you down and feel your heartbeat against its claws."

Bonnie didn't flinch. "And?" she prompted, tilting her head. "What else?"

"It wants your warmth," he choked out. "Wants to bury itself in you. Deep. Hard. Until you scream." He hid his face in his free hand.

"And do you want that too? Or are those just your animal instincts talking? Be honest." Bonnie leaned closer, the firelight catching the sharp curiosity in her eyes. Her boot nudged his knee gently. "Don't hide your face. Look at me and tell me what you want, Bigby. Not the beast."

"I... I... I want to go dig a hole and die in it!" Bigby choked out, his voice cracking as he pressed his face harder into his palm. The green flush spread violently across his neck and ears. His chains rattled against his cloak with the tremors running through him. "Forget I said anything."

Bonnie leaned forward, resting her chin on her knuckles. A slow, unexpected smile tugged at her lips. This was... fascinating. His raw, flustered agony was leagues more interesting than any bawdy tale. "No," she murmured, her voice low and deliberate. "You don't get to escape that easily. You started this confession, so finish it. What do you want to do to me?"

For a moment, Bonnie was sure Bigby was going to leap to his feet and just run away, but he managed to keep his composure. "I want to kiss you. Your bare skin. Your..." His eyes flickered upwards. "Schamhaare. The hair beneath your clothes, between your legs."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "That's specific."

"I've thought about it," Bigby mumbled, staring at his chained fist. "When the beast isn't stirring. Just... touching you there. With my mouth. Feeling how warm you get. Hearing you sigh."

Bonnie remained perfectly still, her poker resting against the dampened log. The air crackled louder than the embers. "And?"

"Ach du lieber, your questions are going to kill me. Fine," Bigby rasped, lifting his gaze. "I want to feel you tremble under my tongue until you're wet and shaking and begging me for my — ah... for more. Then I want to slide into you so deep you forget your own name." His chains rattled as he shuddered violently. "There. Said it. Happy?"

Bonnie didn't move, didn't blink. The fire's dim glow painted sharp shadows across her face as she studied him—the tremble in his chains, the sweat beading along his brand, the raw desperation in his eyes. Her thumb absently traced the worn leather spine of the bawdy book still beside her. "So," she said, her voice unnervingly calm, "you want to fuck me senseless."

Bigby looked like a man awaiting execution. "Yes," he admitted. "Gods help me, yes."

"Alright." Bonnie stood abruptly. She kicked dirt onto the embers, plunging them into near-darkness save for the faint crimson glow of her rib-sticker’s tip. "Permission granted."

She pulled her cloak off and threw it over her bedroll. Her shirt followed, and Bonnie was about to start on her trousers when Bigby squeaked "Wait!"

His chains clattered as he scrambled to his feet. "Not—not here. Not with the beastmen coming. I wanted... candles. A bed. Something soft beneath you."

"Too late. Take me or leave me." Bonnie's trousers slid down her hips, and onto the dirt. She watched Bigby's eyes immediately go to the curls between her thighs. "You wanted me wet and begging? Make it happen."

Bigby froze, chains pulling taught across his body before snapping as his beast form surged against the bindings.

Bonnie stood unmoving as she watched the transformation ripple through him. His muzzle elongated, long horns sprouting from the back of his head. A deep growl rolled from his chest as he shook off the shattered chains, his massive form towering over her.

She felt a brief flicker of fear. Bonnie hadn't feared death since she realized they were all trapped in some kind of time loop and would always come back, but she wasn't in the mood to be ripped apart.

Bigby stepped towards her, nose pressing into her shoulder as he inhaled deeply.

It felt like the muzzle of a goat, soft and moist.

He pushed her onto the bedroll, snuffing hot air against her belly. Bonnie gasped as he shoved it into the fur between her legs. "Still human enough to ask?" she breathed, tangling her fingers in the coarse fur under his chin.

"Skrff..." Bigby's beast form shuddered, hot breath ghosting over her thighs as he buried his muzzle deeper into her curls. The coarse fur of his jaw scraped her inner thighs as his tongue slid upwards

Bonnie gasped, arching off the bedroll as he lapped at the bead at the top of her lips. "Bigby—!"

He growled low in response, the vibration traveling through her core as he pinned her hips down with clawed hands. His tongue pushed deeper, exploring with shocking delicacy despite the beast’s form. Bonnie gasped again, fingers tightening in his fur.

Bonnie’s breath hitched as he found her entrance, lapping slowly at first, then with insistent pressure.  He worked his way upwards to her breasts, his tongue rough against her nipple.

He growled again, low and urgent, pressing her legs wider apart. Bonnie gasped as she felt the blunt pressure of his prick against her leg, thick and hot. It had to be the same width of her hand, at least, way too big to fit.

A tremor ran through his beast-form, muscles tightening under fur. He retreated, almost shy as his body shrank back to his human form. The cursed chains linked themselves back together, snaking around his body again. "Did the beast hurt you...?"

Bonnie touched her thigh where his muzzle had pressed. "You're gentle." She pulled him down onto the bedroll beside her. "Gentler than I expected."

She nudged him onto his back, tugging his trousers down his hips. Bonnie straddled his thighs, rubbing a thumb over the head of his prick.

Bigby gasped sharply. "Bonnie, I—"

Bonnie silenced him with a firm stroke down his length, fingers tightening around the base as she watched his hips jerk helplessly. His breath came in ragged gasps, eyes shut tight. "My turn now."

She lowered herself slowly, guiding him with her hand. The pressure was firm, not painful but not really pleasurable either.

Bonnie paused halfway down, adjusting her hips. The stretch burned slightly, almost pleasantly. She breathed through it, sinking until her thighs pressed against his.

Bigby was gasping shallowly, head tilted back. "Ah... aaah... Bonnie..." His hips jerked upward instinctively, seeking deeper friction.

She rolled her hips. A vague flutter of pleasure bloomed deep inside her, sharpening with each slow grind. She didn't see what other people liked about this. It felt awkward.

But Bigby's choked whimper beneath her and the desperate clutch of his hand on her hip kept her moving. His prick throbbed inside her, hot and insistent.

"Bonnie," he gasped again. "Please... don't stop."

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest. The friction intensified as she rocked faster, chasing that elusive spark. Faster felt good. Sweat slicked her thighs where they met his hips.

Bigby arched beneath her, a choked cry tearing from his throat. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her down hard as he thrust upward. The sudden, deep pressure punched a gasp from Bonnie’s lungs.

His climax hit like a breaking wave—violent, shuddering, utterly silent save for the frantic rasp of his breath. She felt him pulse inside her, hot and insistent, before he went utterly still. His eyes were squeezed shut, lashes dark against his flushed cheeks.

Bonnie slowed her movements, the friction fading to a dull throb. "Better?" she murmured, shifting her weight off him.

Bigby nodded, eyes still closed. "I... didn't last." His voice was thick with shame. "The beast... it wanted—"

Bonnie silenced him with a finger to his lips. "It's fine." She rolled off him, the night air cool on her sweat-slicked skin. Her thighs ached faintly from the stretch. She reached for her discarded trousers, pulling them on with brisk efficiency. "Better than fine. You didn't rip me apart. That's a win."

He adjusted his own pants, chains clinking softly. "I... I'm sorry it wasn't... more." His gaze flickered toward the smoldering fire pit, avoiding her eyes. "For you."

Bonnie pulled her shirt and cloak back on, laying down beside Bigby.

The night air cooled her skin, but the lingering heat between her legs remained. She felt the dampness on her thighs, a physical reminder of his release. "Don't apologize," she said, her voice low and matter-of-fact. "Go to sleep."

Bigby shifted, chains whispering against the bedroll as he curled onto his side facing her. His eyes, wide and searching in the near-darkness, traced the outline of her profile. "You didn't..." he began, then swallowed. "Did you... feel anything? At all?"

Bonnie stared up at the stars, sharp and cold in the moonless sky. The stretch between her thighs still pulsed faintly, a dull echo of the act. "It was efficient," she said flatly. "Why? Did you expect fireworks?"

"I didn't want to be selfish." He reached out to slip his hand into Bonnie’s.

She didn't pull away. His fingers were warm against hers, rough with callouses. "Selfish?" Bonnie snorted softly. "You asked. You didn't take. That's better than most men."

"If you say so, then I suppose I succeeded." His thumb traced a gentle circle on the back of her hand. 

Bonnie couldn't see him very well in the dark, but she thought she caught a glimpse of a smile on his face.