CAUGHT BY THE CAT

CAUGHT BY THE CAT

A Christmas Cat Erotica short story  

The Monster Erotica Collection, story 13

TERRI STERN

Copyright © 2024 Terri Stern

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner

whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely

coincidental.

Ivy blew a long line of icy breath out, watching the ice crystals catch and tumble like a swirling wave as the gentle breeze carried them away. It was already dark, despite only being mid-afternoon, and her trip to the harbour had left her lacking in much festive cheer.

The phone at her ear pipped with the sound of a call being picked up, and she tugged on her brightest smile. “Hey.”

“What’s the news?” Andrea – Ivy’s flatmate – was as ever straight to the point. Today it was welcome, the dull news an ache in Ivy’s chest.

“The boat back will be between twelve and twenty days, depending on the weather.”

“Fuck! Three weeks?”

“Yep.”

“Well, the ash will be clear before then. Don’t fucking do it Ives, it’s not worth three weeks of seasickness and trying to eat sprouts that are rolling away from you.”

Ivy sighed, resting her head against the cool wall behind her, tracking how ice motes played in the streetlights but didn’t quite push into being snow. A silly distraction from the burning in the back of her throat. “I know. Unless there’s another eruption, and it doesn’t sound like they’re expecting one. Waiting for the flights is going to be the most sensible thing. But it means I’m gonna miss the whole thing, Christmas and the Boxing Day bash too. Zara and Kay travelled over from the US, Dee. They’ll be gone before I’m back.”

“Call in, you can video with us from your quaint as fuck little cottage, or wherever you are, they’ll still love it. They can’t blame you for a volcano girly.” Ivy made a non-committal noise and Andrea laughed, warm as a mocha in the snow. “Don’t pout, I can hear it. It sucks hun, I know, but don’t put yourself on a boat to get back after New Year, it will suck so much more. You go green in too deep a bath.”

Ivy snorted a laugh, unable to disagree. “Fine, I’ll see if I can set something up for a video call. I’m going to grumble about it for days, though.”

“As you should, let it out. This is a very specific type of bullshit. Arguably one you sign up for as a volcanologist, even so, bullshit.”

“Not helping, Dee. Right, in that case, I’m going to go get some food in and see what I can do.”

“Go out and have fun! No point sulking around at home, get out to the bar and see if there’s anyone else drowning their travel sorrows.”

“You can’t wingman me from five hundred miles away.”

“I can try my best,” Andrea shot back, chuckling to herself. “I’m serious, though, Ives. Go do some festive window shopping, or find a pretty not-a-Viking to kiss under the mistletoe. You’ve got at least a week there. May as well have fun with it.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ivy knew she was going to, and she knew Andrea knew, but she didn’t have to give her the satisfaction just yet. “I need food first anyway. I’m freezing and it’s already dark.”

“Off you go then. I’ll break the news to the group over here and you can message me tomorrow about getting a video call set up. Love you.”

“Love you too, your brat.” Ivy ended the call, laughing to herself. This was not a fun way to spend Christmas, but she had insisted on going to the site of recent eruptions for her research. There was a certain flavour of ‘told you so’ about this. Just because it hadn’t erupted in a year wasn’t a guarantee, clearly, and she could comment on that in her work.

Sighing, she pushed off the wall, starting back up the road towards her current home-from-home. Grindavik was a fishing town which knew how to make the most of it, their bars serving speciality salted fish dishes, and their other main attraction being a nearby geothermal spa, the Blue Lagoon, which was absolutely worth the three-mile trip out because it was the best she’d ever been to.

It had taken a little while for her to get used to the place, but the locals were welcoming once they knew she was a proper researcher, and there was enough of a night life between restaurants and pubs that she wouldn’t have to cook tonight. Most of her colleagues had already left, so she’d be sharing her company with a book, but she’d find something to do rather than just sit home and stew.

Probably.

She wrapped her scarf tighter, starting up the hill towards her little cottage at the edge of the town. Nowhere here was outside walking distance, though there were plenty of cars and scooters on the road, and she enjoyed getting to soak in the place as she meandered home. Most of the town sat on one side of the deep harbour, but her temporary accommodation was on the lesser side. Sat maybe a mile up the hill, which was really the bottom of a mountain, it hunkered close to the land, looking down over the twinkling lights of the other houses.

The town had done itself up for Christmas - the streets bedecked with lights, a tall tree with warm cream, old-fashioned bulbs and thirteen ornaments to denote the thirteen lads of legend. It was practically picturesque.

None of that was a comfort to Ivy as she walked up the snowy road, rehearsing how to break the news to different people she was going to disappoint. Andrea would take care of the flat and planned company, and her mum didn’t expect her to come and visit so her parents wouldn’t even know she was outside the UK. Maybe she could just skip telling them altogether, just mention it when she was back to avoid them fretting.

~

That evening Ivy settled into a bar she’d grown fond of in her two months in the town, sitting in a booth near the back to eat her meal and read her book. The locals were in high spirits this close to Christmas, and the local… something team, maybe basketball, had won a game, so the crowd was loud with celebration.

It was almost too much, and if she wasn’t digging voraciously into her late dinner, she might have left to sulk at home like she’d promised Andrea she wouldn’t, but that was being petty. It was nice to be around some positivity, even if she wasn’t feeling the festive spirit herself.

She returned to her page, dragging her focus back to the political machinations of the novel’s much too lucky protagonist and rereading the last paragraph, so she was keeping a track of who was backstabbing who.

“This is an over twenty-one bar,” someone said beside her and she looked up to find a mountain of a man stood beside her booth. He was well past six feet tall, with a mass of long, dark hair that hung down his back like a sail of black silk. Unlike a lot of the sports fans, he was dressed up in black jeans and a deep red shirt. He even had a tight black waistcoat that made him seem like he’d wandered in from a financial district that Grindavík didn’t have. Eyes so hazel they could have been golden.

They were the first pair like that Ivy’d encountered here, so disarming that it took an embarrassingly long moment for her to make her mouth work. “Pardon?”

“The bouncers are pretty lax until it hits ten, but it’s an over twenty-one bar, so you might want to keep an eye on them.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m over twenty-five, though, so I should be good.” She laughed, suddenly worried that her choice of clothes made her seem juvenile. Her dress was a longer, dungaree style one, skimming her mid-calf with a tartan style pattern – an old nod to her family background – and her boots were the thick, brown leather she favoured for walking around in the snow. It rarely made her seem young, though she wasn’t dressing like a grandma either. It was just cosy.

“No way, really?” He flashed a grin, scratching under his chin. “I’m sorry. This was a bad introduction. What’s your name?”

“I’m Ivy. And yours?”

“I’m—” A cheer from the sports tables went up, something loud enough that Ivy’s shoulders crept up around her ears, and she shook her head.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that. Can you say it again?”

“I’m—” Again the shout went up and Ivy shot them a glare, catching the end of something from the tall stranger.

“Sorry, was that Arthur? I heard the end, but it’s so loud in here.”

“Close enough.” He wrinkled his nose in amusement, nodding to the other side of the booth. “I was just about to get a drink; can I get you one too?”

Ivy’s stomach tightened just a touch at the offer, but she nodded. “Sure. It would be nice to talk to someone.”

“Great. A beer?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

She watched him head to the bar, failing to quell the heat in her chest at how blatant he’d been. There’d been one or two approaches before, mostly from athletes or students coming back from a winning game, but no one had been as smooth as that. Maybe she could make Andrea proud after all.

She slipped her phone out, sending a quick message. Cute guy at the bar buying me a beer. Ho, ho, ho? She added a winky emoji just to be clear this was a good message, not a ‘help me’, and put her bookmark on her page.

It wasn’t like she’d never picked up a guy at the bar before, but it was an unusual forwardness in the little fishing town. And she couldn’t think of seeing him around the place before, but she had been distracted with the volcano, so that might be on her, to be fair.

He returned with the drinks, setting one down beside her plate and settling himself in at the other seat.

“Thanks.” She mimed a little toast, clinking the bottle necks gently together. “Not that I’ve been partying all the time, but I don’t think I’ve seen you out on the town before. Are you local?”

“Sort of. I’m here for the holidays. You aren’t.”

“What, the accent gives me away?” She chuckled, picking at some more of her food. “I’m a researcher, studying the volcano. It wasn’t as lively when I got here, and now because of the ash, I’m stuck. No flight home.”

“Ah, stuck in a strange place for Christmas. That’s not fun.” He tilted his head, looking at her over their drinks. “Let me guess, English?”

“Not quite. Edinburgh.”

“Ah, Scotland, I like there. Very good architecture.” He nodded sagely.

“Thank you, you’ve been?”

“Not for a long time, but yes. Their volcano is very dormant, though.”

“Hence coming and looking at your one. It seemed too good not to, for my thesis, especially with the clusters that have been happening, but no one thought it would go so quickly.” She threw her hands up in a mimed eruption, shoulders slumping a little. “Like my flatmate said, sort of what I get for coming so close to Christmas. So what do you do when you’re not buying strange women drinks in bars?”

“I’m in security, you could say.”

“Oh my, very mysterious. Private, I take it?” He nodded. “Nice. I didn’t think you guys got time off around the holidays. Too much risk of family members killing each other in a fight over the stuffing.”

He snorted a chuckle, diverting his drink so he didn’t clip his teeth with the bottle. “That is a British thing, I think. We rarely do that. Plus, my boss, she’s pretty good. Has her own things to be doing this year, so she’s busy, means she gives us a pretty wide reach.”

“Mores the better for you. So what, you work up in Reykjavík?”

“Yeah, up that way. I’ve got until just after Christmas off, then back to it.”

“Only a few days then. You’ll be back to work before I get to go home.”

“Maybe I’ll come back before the New Year.” He raised a brow – immaculate, they had to be threaded – and she chuckled.

“Maybe that would be nice, depending.”

“On?”

“If you’re more interesting than my book.” She tapped the cover, setting her plate aside now she’d picked at most of it. “It’s an excellent book, so you’ll have to be very interesting.”

“Far be it from me to disappoint a lady. Why don’t I tell you about some of the Christmas traditions here?”

“Go for it.”

~

They talked through the sports fans finishing their celebrations with chanted songs and raucous toasts, and sank beers until the bar staff reminded them that closing time was soon.

“Are you staying nearby?” Arthur asked as they stamped their feet outside the bar, the fresh snow glittering like diamonds spilled under the streetlights. It was still coming down but in a lazy dusting, like icing sugar drifting into them rather than the driving blizzards of storm season, and Ivy lingered in it as she did her coat up and donned her gloves.

“Just up at the top of the hill. It’s not too far.” Ivy pointed in the general direction, stomach fluttering with the idea that it might be considered an accidental invitation. Not that an invitation for him would be bad, exactly, but she was tipsy and such things should be done with a clear head.

“Let me walk you back?” He tilted his head at her again, that lush hair swinging over one shoulder and catching some of the gently falling snow.

“Are you sure? It’s cold, and you don’t have a coat.” He’d rolled his shirtsleeves up at some point in the evening and though Ivy had no complaints about seeing the thick muscles, he must be freezing in the snow.

“I grew up here. This is nothing.” Arthur winked, offering her his arm, and despite her better judgement, Ivy took it.

“Scotland can be pretty cool, but snow is a bit much, even for us.” She adjusted her scarf, giving him a brief nod that she was ready. “We don’t get it too often other than Christmas and January, though, so maybe it’s just a lack of exposure.”

“I’ll have to come over in the winter then, see what it’s like.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be fine. I’m glad the snow isn’t grey, from the ash, too. I know it’s not supposed to happen but I’ve seen it before, flakes falling all dreary like the sky is crying instead of the freshness of the white.”

“Like it’s crying?” Arthur repeated, a steady presence at her side while they crunched through the crisp night.

“I know it sounds dramatic, but snow always seems… hrm.” She paused, glancing at the sky again as if it might have the answer. “Like it’s the air and the water coming together, in the same way the waves do. But when it’s all ashy, they’re not as light, or as gentle, and sometimes it’s sad. Sorry, I’m rambling on. You get all sorts of odd ideas when you study volcanoes.”

“What made you decide to study them?” Arthur squeezed her arm a little, keeping them together as they meandered through the bedecked streets, the crunch of their footsteps their only company.

“I grew up with one, living in Edinburgh, even if it’s a dormant one. It’s like having a sleeping dragon looking over the city every day. Which is maybe a little over romantic. They’re lava and fire and risk, too, but I just loved it more the longer I was studying it. What made you go into security?”

Arthur hummed, deep in his chest, mirroring her earlier look to the sky. “I’m good at it, I suppose, and I like it. There’s a certain mischief in it. You can push boundaries because you’re making the new ones. And a part of me has always loved the chase. When you grow up with stories like we do, it’s easy to see the appeal.”

“Tell me one.” Ivy leaned against him as they climbed the long, slow hill up to her cottage. The moon wasn’t quite full but nearly there, and that combined with the snow made a silver almost-daylight, making their shadows stretch out ahead of them like mischievous spirits.

“Well, my favourite one is the Jólakötturinn, the Yule Cat. It’s a giant cat that comes out at night to hunt around the festive season.”

“Why?”

“Well, he has to feed. The legend goes that he stalks around looking for people who haven’t received a gift of clothes for the festive period and eats them.”

“How big are we talking if he eats people? Like, beast of Bodmin Moor big, or bigger?”

“I don’t know what that is, but he’s huge. Like…” He looked around for dramatic effect. “The size of a church, maybe.”

Ivy let out a long whistle, nodding a little. “That’s a big cat. Bet you need a lot of people to give him ear scritches.”

“What?” Arthur laughed, leaning forward to look at her. “You want to scratch his ears? He’s a monster!”

“Why not?” Ivy shrugged, shaking her head. “He’s a kitty, just an enormous one. He deserves scritches. Is there anyone big enough to do that? I bet not. No wonder he’s grouchy if all he gets to do is wake up, go hunt, and get no love. Every cat I’ve had has just been a massive fusspot, really.”

“There are giants. The thirteen lads run amok around the same time.”

“Ah, but do they give our big cat any fusses and attention? You know what young lads are like, even the giant version. Maybe they’re horrible to him.”

Arthur hummed like he was pondering her words and Ivy realised they were almost at her house, the lonely road only having one endpoint. She swallowed, debating if she should invite him in or not. It was a snowy night, despite his protestations, and he was very easy on the eye. But they were both tipsy, too, and maybe it wouldn’t be the best idea to throw herself at him just because she was lonely at Christmas.

She’d been spacing out in her contemplation, missing what Arthur had said about the Yule Cat, and they were almost at the door.

“Maybe they know a cat like that can take care of himself. The night’s ever so good for a hunt, especially up in the mountains, when there’s no one else around.”

“Hm?” She glanced up at him as they reached the door, the moonlight making his eyes almost glow with a low flash.

“I was saying there’s no one else around.” He stepped closer, his toes almost touching hers. This close she had to look up at him, his dark hair gleaming with silver. “It must be lonely up here.”

“It is when everyone else has run off home before the eruption, yeah.” She laughed bashfully, looking at her feet. Now they were up high their shadows were exaggerated too, clumsy with how they stumbled onto the heavy wooden door, Arthur’s seeming much larger than hers.

“Leaving you all alone.” He inched a little closer.

“Listen, this has been a really cool evening, but I think I’d rather invite you inside when we’re both level-headed. You get what I mean?” She brought her gaze back up to him, setting her hands on his chest. “Cause you’re really cute, and you’ve been a gentleman all evening, and I would really like to do this again. And here.” She tugged her scarf off, looping it around his neck and tugging him down into a quick kiss, just a brush of her glossed lip against his lightly stubbled cheek. “Something to carry home. And a scarf so the Yule Cat doesn’t get you on the way. It totally counts as clothes.”

“You’re giving me your scarf?” Arthur blinked at her, still bent down to her level.

“Gotta make sure you get home safely. I’d be heartbroken if you ended up as a cat snack. Plus, it means you have to meet me again to give it back, no?” She made a point of tying the scarf in a knot so she could look somewhere other than those lovely eyes. Heat flooded her face at the brazenness of asking for a second date immediately off the first, especially with tomorrow being Christmas Eve, but Arthur’s face split into a massive grin, his incredibly white teeth flashing. Had they looked that white in the bar? Must be a trick of the moonlight on the snow.

“Of course, I must give it back.” He stood up, cupping her face in one large hand and gently pressing her to look at him. “I like this idea. Meet me at the bottom of your road tomorrow, around seven. There’s a Christmas maze not too far from here. They do it every year, it’s great. We can do that together.”

“That would be fun. As long as it won’t eat up your plans?” She bit her lips, hating that she was being so obvious, but the flickering flame of hope glowing in her chest.

“No, not at all.” He grinned, leaning down to peck a kiss on her other cheek. “Wear those boots. There’ll be a little walking to get to it.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow night then. And remember the scarf.” She tugged the heather purple ends, and he nodded, winking at her.

“Of course. Sleep well.”

“You too, travel safe.”

Ivy watched him go back down the road, giving her a little wave as he went, and she let herself into the cottage, leaning her back against the door as it clicked closed. What had she just done? She had a gorgeous man at her door, chatting to her all night, and she’d strong-armed him into another date?

She set her head back against the wood, closing her eyes. He’d said yes to the date, and that was the main thing. He wouldn’t have agreed, and given her a kiss, so maybe he liked her moxie. She would have to text Andrea and tell her what she’d done. Urgh.

It would be shitty not to let Andrea know she got home safe at least, so she got her phone out as she drifted to the bathroom, stripping off as she went. Going on second date to Xmas maze with cute guy. Tomorrow.

Was he that good? She got back, too quick to be anything other than Andrea checking in on her.

Didn’t take him to bed tonight. Too many beers and I’m alone in the cottage. Ivy set her phone aside, face down, so she didn’t have to see the telltale dots of Andrea typing at her. She could be sensible for one night. And if things went well at tomorrow, well, Arthur already knew where they were coming back to.

Before collapsing into bed, she gave in and checked Andrea’s message.

Sensible, but if he’s cute, maybe just go for it. It’s the season for giving and receiving, go get some.

Ivy shook her head, putting the phone back down. Wingman from 500 miles away indeed.  

~

The next night, having taken much longer than she normally would to pick an outfit, Ivy checked herself over in the mirror for the third time.

She was in the requested boots, with a thick pair of tights, a slightly shorter skirt that settled at her knees, the deep plum contrasting with the pine green jumper that showed off her waist nicely. It wasn’t the classic little black dress, but if they were going to do a maze, they’d be outside and not freezing was also a good option. Plus, this outside matched the scarf Arthur would be giving her back.

Hopefully.

Bundling up in her coat, she grabbed her bag and went out the door, locking it behind her out of habit more than necessity. She’d had no issue with crime in her time here, but the habit was strong and she was too nervous to fight it tonight.

The path was still covered in snow, but the layers had condensed together with enough structure that it was safe enough to trot down - a little too quick - to avoid being late.

Arthur was waiting for her, this time in another dark suit judging by the trousers, with a matching black wool jacket that rested partway down his barely contained thighs, the muscles thick against the material. He must pay a fortune for tailoring: he was too tall for these to be off the rack. She dragged her eyes back up to wave at him, hoping her ogling wasn’t too obvious. His hair was in a loose ponytail this time, and her scarf sat draped around his shoulders, bright against the dark wool, but his smile was just as sharp as the night before.

“You made it.” He took the scarf off, looping it around her neck so it settled against her own hounds tooth jacket. “I was worried you’d think my idea was too boring.”

“No way. I love the sound of a maze. Used to do them at all the big old houses when I was a kid, but I don’t think I’ve been to one as an adult. I didn’t even know it was on, honestly.”

“Too busy watching the volcano.”

She laughed at his smooth line, straightening the scarf for something to do with her hands. “Maybe, yes. How do you know about it?”

“I know the guys that made it, which means I get free tickets. If we head up now, we should get the place mostly to ourselves, too.”

“That sounds great. Lead the way.”

He offered his arm, and she took it again, pleased that they fitted together just as well sober as they did tipsy. “Follow me.”

They chatted as they walked through the town and out the opposite side, a little aside from the harbour and heading up towards the mountains.

The route turned into a gravel track not long after they left the boundaries of the town, the streetlights and festive decorations fading away to leave them in the moonlight once more, the jagged landscape thrown into near black and white relief as they wandered through it. Ivy had been through here before, on her way to meet another volcanologist, and it was almost comparable to the Yorkshire moors in how very bleak it was. Which was its own type of beauty, but made all the starker by the moonlight.

It was easy to keep talking to keep her nerves at bay, Arthur listening to her stories of Edinburgh and her various travels, the agonising process of grant applications for data gathering. In turn, he told stories of some of his jobs, details fuzzed to keep his employers obscure, though Ivy was forming a picture of an organisation with a powerful female lead and some very energetic middle management.

They were so absorbed in their talk that Ivy barely noticed them arriving at the large lot, set partway up the mountain and over the far side, so it was tucked away from the town. This meant the fairy lights, of which there must have been hundreds, glowed like their own little suns.

The maze was huge – bigger than any she’d seen before – with rows of smallish spruce trees, just over seven feet all in their tubs, laid out to make the walls of their maze. Each one was layered with lights in the minimalist, Norwegian style of simple lines down the body of the branches, with strings running along the top in line with the trees, so corners and paths were obvious.

“This is amazing. How had I not heard about this?” Ivy stepped away from Arthur, going up on her tiptoes to take in the size of it.

Arther came up behind her, settling a hand on her waist. “My friends are excellent at keeping things local. They don’t want thousands of tourists, like the Lagoon gets over the other side. They want it to be special. Traditional.”

“Will you get in trouble for bringing me, then?” She glanced back at him, briefly looking between his head at the trees. He wasn’t taller than them, but if she had to guess, he’d be around six feet six, so it would only take a small jump for him to see over the walls. Very useful.

“Not likely. They owe me enough favours. Come on.” He winked, slipping his arm into hers, and they went towards the entrance.

He’d been right about them having the place to themselves – they didn’t see a soul in their first few steps, and as they weaved between the spruces, it was only the fairy lights and their shadows keeping up with them.

“So, what’s at the centre here?” Ivy asked as they followed the path, the snow crunching under their feet.

“Hm?” Arthur glanced at her, eyes flicking over the tops of the trees.

“Well, is there an ice sculpture, or a special tree, or something? In the mazes I’m used to there’s a route all the way through, but there’s a surprise in the middle.”

“Oh, this one is certainly full of surprises, too.” He grinned, leaning closer to her to stage whisper. “Why don’t we make it a little more fun?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why don’t we race to the middle? I’ll take that corner,” he pointed to an opening just ahead of them, “And you go whichever way you think is best, and whoever gets to the middle first wins a prize.”

Ivy paused, raising a brow at him. “And how do I know you’re not going to cheat because your friends have told you the route?”

“I would never.” He put a hand on his chest in mock offence. “I wouldn’t do that, I swear. Honestly, I just want an excuse to see if I can get there first. I’m from a big family. It makes you competitive.”

“And what’s the prize if you win?”

“Hmm, that’s a secret.” He bobbed his eyebrows at her, and despite a nagging feeling this might not be the best idea, she nodded.

“Okay, deal. See you at the centre.”

“See you there.” Arthur leaned down, pecking a kiss on her lips as soft as a snowflake, then jogged off into the turn he’d pointed out.

Ivy watched him vanish, sighing to herself as he melted into the twinkling lights. Well, she’d done plenty of mazes as a kid. She wouldn’t be bested by this one just because there was snow.

There were all the old tricks for finding a path through a maze – keep a hand on the left side all the time, only take the left turns, mark the turns already made in some way so there’s a clear way to see which what has already been tested.

But this was a little different – she wanted to get through the path quickly so she could choose her prize from Arthur, so direct methods were called for.

Setting out on her path forward, she tried to build a picture of the maze up in her head as she went, making a mental map of her turns and the longer stretches that went forward. Occasionally she found odd things on her path, such as little packages of sweets, or books wrapped up in brown paper with pretty ribbons holding it together, but she left them in place lest they for paying customers. It would be a nice touch if they were. Very cute for kids.

As she went, she tuned into the sounds of the surrounding maze; the hissing of the branches rubbing together in the light breeze, a constant hush in the background. There was something else too, an occasional thumping that was heavy, but not loud. At first she thought it was someone moving bales of hay, or shifting a generator around – they must have needed one for all these lights – but there was a regularity in the noise too.

It almost sounded like footsteps.

Ivy stopped, looking around for the source of the noise. She couldn’t hear Arthur, but they could be at opposite sides of the maze by now, depending on how it was designed. Tall as he was, his feet wouldn’t make that noise.

She held her breath for a long beat, straining to hear it again. A dull thump sounded, almost like the buffer before thunder rolled, and a long growl echoed out over the maze.

“What the fuck?” For a moment her mind flashed through options – a warning of an eruption, the crackle of the rocks before an earthquake, all that ash above about to spurt into orange, furious life as lava surged out and ate through whatever it found in its path.

Panic gripped her chest, the fear that Arthur and her would be cut off from the town and at risk from the gasses or the lava itself. Just as she opened her mouth to call for him, something large and dark came over the side of the corridor she was standing in.

Two huge, golden eyes the size of dinner plates blinked at her, and a rasping, bright pink tongue flicked out to lick over thin lips. Oh. A massive black cat was staring down at her, one paw up to lick it and clean over its ears in a move she’d seen her pets do a thousand times. She stared at it for a stretching moment, her mind struggling to make sense of what she was seeing.

When that didn’t work, and her chest spasmed with the need to scream, she turned and ran instead.

Diving through the maze she kept her head down, darting between corners and openings, slipping between the trees in what was no doubt cheating, but if she could get to the middle, she could try to find Arthur. Maybe that way they could both get away from a living myth that was apparently chilling out on this side of the mountain!

Her mind span through options, scrabbling for something to make this make sense. Maybe it was a prank, something set up by Arthur, or his friends to fuck with him because he was bringing a date. Maybe it was a part of the maze, something more advanced than fairy lights and potted trees, so specific to Iceland that it wouldn’t fucking terrify the locals into bolting from it like a scurrying mouse.

The pad of large footsteps behind her knocked that idea aside, and she nearly stumbled with how quickly she shoved herself between two lines of trees, throwing herself through the gap and landing hard on her front.

Cold bit into her, seeping through her coat and tights as she slapped the ground once, hard, before pushing herself back into standing. She had to be close by now. The maze was big, but she’d been rushing through with the eagerness of a collie dog. Limping onwards, she trembled when another growl rippled over her head, but she glimpsed something up ahead, a flickering that was more like candles than the twinkling fairy lights, and that spurred her on.

With another push through a line of trees, almost tripping on the pots, she emerged into a large square, nearly as big as the town square back in Grindavík.

The centre of the maze had a raised platform, with large, freestanding candlesticks forming a semi-circle on them, framing a mass of blankets and cushions in what seemed to be a massive bed, or nest. The materials were as bright as Christmas baubles, reds and blues shining like precious gems, with occasional green or purple glints that glowed in the flames. Dragging her breath in, she beelined for it, ready to fling herself onto the platform when something heavy thumped into her back, sending her sprawling onto the snow again. Air puffed out of her lungs in a flurry of white as she landed hard against the snowy ground.

“Caught you.” Arther rumbled above her, though the shape pressing into her was so much bigger than even his large frame. With a grunt of effort, she twisted on the ground, squirming until the pressure let up a little and she could flop onto her back.

The massive cat stood above her, peering down with those golden eyes, and what could only be described as a smirk on its lips. “Arthur?”

“You never got that right. It’s actually Köttur, though I like how that other name sounded coming from you, so I went with it.”

“Cats can’t talk.”

“Not normal ones, no.” The cat folded down, sitting in the snow with one enormous paw pinning her legs. “But I never have been normal. Even amongst the ogres.”

She was going to pass out, between the cold at her back and the flood of information rattling through her brain. “That’s…. Wow.”

“What a reserved reaction. You remain full of surprises.” He set his head down on the paw touching her. “Now, I should eat you, because you are a stranger, and it’s better to eat strangers. And you didn’t get any new clothes as gifts.”

“You don’t know that. My gifts are five hundred miles away!” It was a stupid comment, of course, but the indignant anger flashed hot in her chest anyway.

“True, true. It’s got so complicated, Ivy.” His tail flicked up, swooshing through the air with the sound of a whip. “I was all set to eat you last night and then you were so sweet. Inviting me politely, giving me a gift, arranging another meeting. It messes with our rules. Now I have to figure out what to do with you.”

She thought about that, peering up to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

“You smell so good. Last night, tonight, there’s just something special about you. It’s so tempting. Fire and snow all mixed around you like a travel cloak. It makes me crave you.”

“Oh.” The volcano ash was maybe helping her after all. “Is that why you spoke to me in the bar?”

“Just so.” If a cat could nod, Arthur did.

“Is there anything else we can do that wouldn’t involve eating me that could still… satisfy you for that?” She was scrabbling for ideas now, the cold seeping into her back a dull distraction from the cooling adrenaline in her veins.

“What did you have in mind?” 

“I planned to invite you back to my cottage tonight, if the maze went well. To let you stay the night. I’m sort of thinking that wouldn’t be as effective now. Your tail would stick out the window, but you are very handsome.” When he looked human, at least.

“Oh, my.” A deep purring started up, running through her like the strum of a guitar string. “We are near a lovely bed, too.”

“Did you make this maze?”

“Yes.” He chuckled, somehow, and Ivy gave up trying to figure out how a cat did such things. “I’m glad you like it. It was a new idea for a chase. I do so love playing with my food, but you’re not the same.”

“Would you like to pick up where we left last night?” Her cheeks heated at the memory of the sweet kiss, now altogether different given his position on top of her. “Would that give you… what you need? I’m guessing there’s some magic about why you eat people rather than humans just being extra tasty.”

“You’re right, of course. Hrm.” He rolled over, looking at her with his long whispers glinting in the moonlight. “It would need to be in a different form. You’re too small for my current state.”

“Yeah, I would like that too.” She nodded vigorously.

“But would you like it in general? I don’t want to make you do something like this unless you want it too. It doesn’t work for the magic, if you’re just doing it out of fear.”

“But eating does?”

He chuckled again, batting her lightly with his paw. “That’s different. Eating you is full consumption. This would be consummation, instead.”

“I don’t know enough about magic to know the difference. But if you looked like you did at the bar, then yes, I’d want that. I wanted to take you to bed last night, but I thought it would be poor form to do that when we were a little drunk.”

“You were a little drunk. It’d take the sweet nectar of the ogres to make me tipsy.”

“Good for you, I am but human.”

Arthur purred again, twisting onto his back as he watched her. “We can do that, yes.”

In a blink and a flash of golden light brighter than the stringed lights around them, he was back to being the Arthur she knew. He was in the dark waistcoat and shirt of the night before, standing looking down at her, with a flicking tail and a pair of dark, twitching ears pushing out from his long hair.

“Those are different.”

“The closer we get to Christmas, the more powerful my magic is. This is the best blend I can manage when I’ve been in my proper form already.” He offered her a hand and she took it, letting him pull her into standing. “You’re rather interesting, Ivy. Let me show you how much.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he dipped lower, sweeping her legs into his arm so he could carry her in a bridal hold, taking them to the vast bed.

Setting her on the cushions, he was on her in seconds, kissing her down into the mass of blankets, his hands exploring her as he tugged her top free from her skirt. Large hands spanned the arch of her ribs, coasted up and down so he could trace her waist, her hips, nudging the material down or away as he went.

His tongue flicked into her mouth, the texture rougher than she was used to, and she gasped as his tail reached down to tug her boots free, the thump of them dropping from the raised section lost in their heavy breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to mouth over her neck. “Want to mark you.”

“You can bite, or scratch. I’m okay with those.” Secretly, in ways she would never admit to now she was no longer a teenager, she loved having hickies or other little marks, things to remember a fun evening by. How they would look from a cat was another matter, but there was a thrill in that as well.

Arthur groaned, rolling his hips against her as he laved his rough tongue over the pulse point in her neck. Ivy rocked her head back, grasping his shoulders as the sensation washed over her, very aware that what pressed hard at her thigh was significant. She matched his rocking, eager to know what he was working with, and her hips stuttered when he bit gently at her shoulder, growling low in his chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hard.”

“Aching for you,” he agreed, yanking her top over her head and shedding her bra with practiced ease. “Need to feel you. You smell so good.”

“I want to feel you, too. Get rid of these?” She tugged at his waistcoat and it melted off him like falling snow, leaving him bare above her. He was deeply fuzzed, with dark chest hair and a thick treasure trail leading down to a leaking, heavy cock that was flushed red with how hard it was.

He was certainly gifted – maybe seven inches, and thick enough that she’d need to wrap her thumb and forefinger around him to encircle it. The skin was also curiously textured, little pointed bumps running along the lower two-thirds in what could have been a pattern. “My goodness.”

“You can take it; we’ll get you nice and ready first.” He shifted down the bed, one hand pushing her skirt down while his rough tongue finding her bare breasts. Lapping at her nipples in an alternating pattern, he purred again, nuzzling against the soft inner skin to bite and kiss her as he freed her legs from skirt and tights alike.

She pressed into him, pulling his head harder against her chest as she tangled her fingers in his hair. Tracing the shape of his ears, she giggled as they flicked under her touch, and she gently scratched around the join between his head and their velvety skin. They were hot under her fingertips, and firmer than she expected, and he purred more as she fussed over them. 

His thumb found her heat, zoning into her clit to circle it, making her arch into him. “Arthur, fuck.”

“Yes, pretty thing, soon.” He kept circling her, slipping two thick fingers into her as he twisted his wrist, getting a better angle to find her shape. It was a sudden stretch but felt good, made her eager for more as he flicked a tempo against her nerves, wound her tighter in breathtaking quickness.

She scrabbled to hold on to him without pulling his ears, thighs falling open as she rocked into his hand - frantic to feel more of him. “Feels good, want to feel more of you.”

“You think you can take me already?” He sounded amused, grinning down at her with that same confidence as last night.

“I want to try. Feels like I need you inside me.”

“What a greedy little thing. You must be just as magic as the rest of us.”

Ivy shook her head, trembling as the pressure in her lower stomach tightened. “No, just want you.”

“As you say.” He leaned down, catching her lips in a hungry kiss as he shifted on the makeshift bed, setting himself between her shaking thighs. “This will be a push, but I’ll take it slow.”

Rearing back, he sat up on his heels, taking his thick cock in hand. He pumped it lazily, watching her underneath him as he took her in. She blushed at the want in his eyes, feeling like a mouse about to be pounced on, but true to his word, he took things slowly.

Gently, he parted her legs further, inching himself closer so he could rub the blunt tip against her leaking opening. Her hips circled the movement, matching him as he smirked down at her. Coating himself in her, he slipped the tip in twice, testing the give, before he leaned forward, planting one hand beside her head as he slowly pushed inside her.

It was like all the air was being pressed out of her, his thickness pushing out everything other than the delicious burn of him taking her over. The bumps on his shaft were delightful against her, prickling her nerves as they pressed into her walls while he slowly went in, in, more and more of him until their hips were flush and he was near panting above her, his head hanging low between his shoulders.

“You feel amazing,” he growled, a tremble in his shoulders. “I haven’t felt like this in an age. You’re perfect for me.” 

“Fuck me, then,” she gasped, flexing her hips against him.

He didn’t need telling twice, chuckling darkly as he dragged himself out, then chased back in, testing the roll of his hips a few times. Satisfied with the movement, and spurred on by Ivy’s blatant moans, he set a punishing tempo, hips snapping forward with each chase into her, fucking her desperately into the blankets.

One hand planted on her hips, keeping her in place as he slammed deeper with each thrust, making her eyes roll as his hips clashed with hers. It was all-consuming, the beat of him against her sweet points within harmonising with the tightness in her lower stomach, the furious spark of heat along her nerves. No one else had felt like this in her, had been so demanding with how much she wanted them, and her body yearned to get more of him.

“That’s it, pretty, just like that. You feel so good.” Arthur cooed above her, the hand at his chest creeping in to find her clit again. “You feel like gold around me. Take me higher with you.”

She nodded, breathless and clawing at his back as he carried on, smashing them together with the eagerness of the hunt. Each rock of his hips and flick of his thumb wound her higher against him, his tail curling around her waist to anchor them together as he shifted her underneath him, folding her knees against her chest so he could pull her down onto him.

“Gonna come, so close,” she gasped.

“Yes, give it to me. I want to feel you.” He leaned forward, dragging her lower onto him so she crooked up a little as he licked and bit at her neck, hips crashing into hers like she would vanish below him. “Come for me.”

That was all it took to send her spinning over the edge, her thighs clamping against his sides as she rocked into him, encouraged him impossibly deeper. She tightened, spasming around him, crying out as she crashed through pleasure. Each clench making his spines feel more deliciously tight against her walls, his dragging thrusts more pressured against her sparking, glimmering peak, and she slumped into the cushions as her whole body went limp.

“Fuck, so good, so fucking beautiful.” Arthur growled above her, burying himself deep inside her as he cradled her hips and followed her into bliss, his cock throbbing against her. Heat burgeoned between them, spilling between their thighs, and he rested his head on her shoulder as he slowed down, gently rolling his hips through the aftershocks.

“That felt amazing.” Ivy sighed, stroking Arthur’s back as his breathing evened off. He nuzzled her hair, pecking kisses over the bites and heated marks on her neck.

“You feel amazing too.” He pulled out a little as he leaned up to grin down at her, the wet sound of their joining making her tighten again. “Can you go again?”

“Again?” She raised a brow at him.

“Oh, pretty thing. I want you all night long.” He thrust gently into her, laughing when she moaned. “I’ll make sure you get home safe in the morning. You can indulge me a little longer, yes?”

She tightened around him deliberately, mostly out of spite, and nodded. “Yes. But you’d better make it worth staying out all night.”

He grinned at her, biting his lip as he looked her naked body over again. “Of course. Far be it from me to disappoint a lady.”

Other stories from Terri Stern:

The Monster Erotica collection

A Vampire’s Debt Steamy Short Stories collection

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If you enjoyed this story, I would sincerely appreciate if you would leave a review or a rating! Reviews and ratings are a great help to the author and they make my day. Thank you!

Terri Stern is a writer and student based in Scotland. Outside of writing she enjoys walking and cocktails, as well as belly dancing. Her favorite tea is Royal Milk Tea from South Korea and she dreams of being able to travel again so she can visit there to try it fresh.

Find her on Twitter: @TerriSternWrite

Website: terristernwrites.com

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