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

113. Going Home

---

Though it took quite a bit of sweet-talking, I finally managed to convince Stolas to lend me an Asmodean crystal for my trip with Striker. I scheduled some time off of work, and within the next month, after Striker had fully recovered from his pneumonia, he and I were headed to Wrath for our journey.

We made our way into town after leaving the elevator terminal, hitching a ride from an imp woman in a dirty white pickup truck. When we reached the edge of town, the woman parked her truck at a local farmers' market, and Striker helped me out of the truck bed and grabbed both of our bags.

"I can carry my own bag now, Striker," I told him.

"No, ma'am," he retorted. "You might need to carry somethin' once we get some supplies for the trip, but not for now."

I rolled my eyes at his insistence, but followed him down the dirt road through the small farming town until we reached a familiar stable. Just like last time, Striker walked up to the large front doors, knocked twice, then promptly opened the door and stepped inside. I entered the stable behind him, my eyes scanning the building's interior before I noticed a fairly burly imp turn the corner and see us. He smiled and approached us with his arms out in a welcoming gesture.

"Well, hey there, stranger!" said Darryl, clapping a hand in Striker's.

"Mornin', Darryl," Striker responded, returning the handshake. "Came to get Bombproof. He been shod lately?"

"Not since you last dropped him off. Daisy's at the shop right now, if you wanna get her to do it."

"Yeah, I think I will," Striker said as he and I followed Darryl through the stable to Bombproof's stall.

Bombproof grunted when Striker opened the stall door and approached him, gently pushing his snout into Striker's palm.

Striker chuckled, scratching the hellhorse's jaw and patting the side of his neck. "Hey, buddy." He grabbed the saddle from its mount on the wall and strapped it to Bombproof's back, then took the bridle and slipped it over the horse's head.

Once Bombproof was ready to ride, Striker led him by the reins out of the stable and gestured for me to take the saddle. I grabbed the pommel and stuck my foot in the stirrup, Striker pushing me upward as I pulled myself onto Bombproof's back. After making sure I was planted squarely in the saddle, Striker hopped up and slung his leg over the horse's back to land directly behind me. The closeness of our bodies in the saddle no longer affected me, but a humored grin threatened to crawl across my face when I felt what was obviously Striker's dick pressing against my backside, and I knew that just a slight shift of my rear would potentially drive him mad with arousal.

Striker whipped Bombproof's hip with the spearhead of his tail, sending us trotting down the dirt road toward Miss Daisy's shop.

---

"Hey, baby!" Miss Daisy wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace, pulling away to flash me a beaming smile. "How are you? Feelin' better?"

I returned the smile and replied, "Definitely a lot better than I was the last time I saw you."

"You look it," she remarked. "I reckon y'all stopped by for some preserves, huh?"

"Actually, I was wantin' to see about gettin' Bombproof shod," Striker answered.

"But we will take the preserves if you have some," I chimed.

She giggled. "Sure thing, baby. You and Striker can look around in the shop while I shoe Bombproof."

Miss Daisy started working on Bombproof a few minutes later, and Striker wandered into the adjacent shop to browse the selection of preserves. I sat on the bench in the far corner of the shed and watched while Miss Daisy removed the hellhorse's old shoes and cleaned and trimmed his hooves.