Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

10. Preserves

Bombproof was extraordinarily well-behaved during his shoeing. Miss Daisy would give his side a good pat before bending one of his legs and holding it firmly between her thighs. He remained calm while she carefully extracted his old worn-out shoes, cleaned his hooves, then nailed on the shiny new wear. She was gentle with him, and worked on him with a sense of familiarity that led me to believe Bombproof was a regular customer for her.

I sat on a bench in the far corner of the shed watching her work. The door to the shop opened, and in walked Striker with two open mason jars filled with an opaque reddish liquid. He handed me one of the jars and took a seat on the bench next to me.

"What is this?" I said, taking a sniff of the contents of the jar. It had a fruity smell, but there was also a prominent and undeniable scent of booze.

"Jam cocktail," he answered, "made with gin and Miss Daisy's preserves." He brought his jar to his lips and took a big gulp, smacking his tongue to the roof of his mouth after swallowing.

I raised an eyebrow. "Did she say you could break into her preserves?"

"Maybe," he remarked with a small smirk.

I gave the jar a gentle swirl before taking a sip. To my surprise, I hardly tasted the alcohol — the main star of the drink was the fruit. The flavors of raspberry and strawberry danced across my tongue, and I savored the taste a moment longer before swallowing. Only after it hit my stomach did I feel the mild burn of the gin.

"It's delicious," I said, taking another sip. "She makes her own preserves?"

"Yep, she and her brother do."

"The guy from the stable?"

"Yep." He took another long swig of his drink. "Make 'em every summer."

I looked down at my own cocktail, a grin tugging at my lips. "I'd risk being vaporized to come back down here just for this."

He chuckled. "Good, huh? I might could get her to sell you one if you want."

"Yes, please."

Striker and I finished our drinks within the next few minutes and stacked our empty mason jars on the bench. Miss Daisy finished shoeing Bombproof shortly after, and she pulled off her gloves and tossed them on her nearby workbench before approaching us. "Welp, your baby's all done," she said, wiping the sweat from her face. "Twenty-five per shoe, and I can do seventy-five for the shoein'."

"Yes, ma'am." Striker reached into his pocket and pulled out the cash I had given him earlier. He flipped through the bills and handed Miss Daisy the desired amount. "Here ya' are, Miss Daisy."

She smiled and slipped the money into the front pocket of her overalls. "Thank you, baby." Her eyes wandered to the empty jars at my side. "I see y'all found my stash. What'd you think?"

"I would gladly risk being vaporized trying to leave Pride unprotected just for a jar of these preserves," I said to her with a straight face.

Miss Daisy let out a loud laugh. "Well, I've got some pints of raspberry and strawberry I'm sellin' for eight a piece if you want any."

I immediately went through the extra cash in my wallet and gave her thirty-two hellbucks and some change. "I'll take two of each."

She chortled and took my cash before walking into the shop. She quickly returned with four pint-sized jars and handed them to me. "Here you go, sweetheart. Enjoy."

"Thank you." I said, carefully placing the jars into my backpack.

Striker pushed himself to his feet and said, "Well, I do thank ya', Miss Daisy." He stepped toward her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

Miss Daisy beamed at him and leaned into the kiss slightly. "Anytime, baby. You ever need me or Darryl, you know where to find us."

She spoke to him with a motherly tenderness, and Striker couldn't help but soften at its sound. He smiled at her and gave her shoulder a gentle pat before turning to me. "Ready for a ride?"

"O-Okay." I stood and followed Striker as he took Bombproof by the reins and led him out of the shed. When we reached the side of the dirt road, he stopped and looked back at me.

"I'll let you get on first," he said, taking my backpack and slipping it into the saddlebag. "Ready?"

"I guess so," I answered with uncertainty. I eyed Bombproof's large frame. He was a tall and stocky beast, his shoulders reaching well over my full height. "It's been a while since I've been on a horse."

Striker gave a small nod. "C'mon." He laid one hand on my shoulder blade and the other on my waist. "Go ahead and stick your foot in the stirrup. I'll help you up."

My cheeks warmed as his hand settled onto my waist, but I did as told and slipped my foot through the stirrup. I hopped with my grounded foot and pulled myself upward, and I felt Striker push me up by the waist. His other hand left my shoulder and pushed me up and toward the saddle by my rear. My face grew hotter at the contact, but I was able to swing my leg over Bombproof's back and land square in the saddle. Taking some satisfaction in having made it, I leaned forward slightly and pet the side of Bombproof's neck.

Striker grabbed the saddle's pommel and pulled himself up with ease, settling himself on the saddle directly behind me. My heart pounded when I felt his hips gently pushing against my backside — and I nearly keeled over when I felt what was undeniably his dick pressed against my ass.

He leaned forward against my frame and reached his arms around me to take the reins. He lifted his tail and smacked Bombproof on the rear with its spearheaded tip. Bombproof let out a low whinny and began trotting down the road.

"So, where are we going?" I asked after a moment.

Striker leaned his head over my shoulder so he could see clearly and replied, "You said you wanted to see the sights, right?"

"Well, yeah. . ."

I small child suddenly ran out in front of us, startling Bombproof and causing him to rear up on his hind legs. He neighed loudly and flailed his front hooves until the child fled to the other side of the road. I tensed and kept a white-knuckle grip on the pommel as I tilted back and forth on Bombproof's back, still remaining stiff after he landed back on all fours. I sighed in relief when he continued calmly down the road, and I slowly relaxed.

"Well, I'll be damned," Striker remarked. I turned my head to see that, in my panic, I had unconsciously wrapped my tail around Striker for support. "Looks like you might be gettin' used to the thing, after all."

Though it required a bit of concentration on my part, I released him and relaxed my tail to the side. "Sorry," I muttered.

He patted my arm. "Don't worry 'bout it. Just shows that you're learnin' how to use it."

I smiled to myself at the thought as we travelled down the dirt road. We rode for several more minutes before reaching the edge of the small town. I looked back at him when we passed the last shack and said, "So, what exactly are these 'sights'?"

Striker smirked, an almost mischievous cackle escaping his throat. He smacked Bombproof's rear again with his tail, and the beast took off running.