It was strange to see a man think this way, even for one becoming a priest. “But Quistainn, why didn’t you find another? There are many maidens who smile and are cheerful and good and all that. You have not taken your final vows. You could still find such a woman.”
He shook his head. “If you had seen the sun, would another star compare?”
“Come now. Believe me, I care and love women as much as the next man—more I should say, but you cannot think that way. I wager your religion teaches something of every soul being beautiful in its own way or some such thing.”
“Yes. But in its own way. Meaning there is no other like each individual soul.”
“Gah! What do I know of it. If that is your conviction, then you are right to follow it. Perhaps you are greater in this way, than other men. I would say that you are missing on the joy of loving a woman. But it also comes with quite a many blows up one’s arse, Quistainn. Tears at you in queer ways. Perhaps it is best that you never have to live it. Part of me envies you.”
“And part of me envies you. Desire whips me now and then. And in those times the human part of me envies ordinary men who can love in that way. I suppose the heart is never content with what it has. But I tell myself what I could be when I am old and dying, what will I be prouder of, that I sought out some mundane human love to quench a thirst, or that I became a pillar for Thrawn’s glory because I stayed true to the greatest love I ever knew?”
I stood there a long moment, my breath coming down, not feeling the burden of letting go of Kyra as heavy as it was moments before.
Quistainn’s armor felt cool against my hand as I rested it on his shoulder.
“You’ve helped me carry many burdens of war, and now you even help me carry the burdens of life.”
“I am glad to do it.”
“I’ve had many friends, Quistainn. But you, you might be the greatest.” I suddenly tensed at my own words, recalling the vision at the Lantern Forest. Why did I speak such a thing? The world seemed lighter for a moment, painted, sculpted of some dream substance I could not comprehend. It was as if I had lived this moment before. It was all unnerving, and I pushed it from my mind.
Quistainn smiled. “Thank you Rothan. That is all want now. All a priest is, is a man who wants to help the rest of the world carry its burdens.”
“We will have many of those, rest assured.”
“And we will carry them all. You will see.”
We clasped forearms there in front of my father’s home as the wind howled.
Sleep. My bed furs. Bellabel’s warmth. They all enveloped me. And finally, so did sleep.
I drifted into such a sleep as only stones must know.
Darkness. Stillness. Such sweet oblivion.
Then dreams came. Of what exactly, I did not know. There were glimpses of talking with half-familiar people in houses that were at once in arid deserts, only to be among frigid mountains when I opened the door to leave. I was a child again, watching father sharpen a blade with a whetstone, his hairy thick-fingered hands moving too deftly for their shape and size. There were gladiator battles and haggling with merchants over prices of fish. Strange sights all running into one another as if my mind were made of water. One thing I did dream clearly: Kyra’s face peering at me from between row upon row of straight pine trunks. I spoke and called to her, but my voice was silent. I was mute as a tree stump. Some shadowy creatures grabbed hold of her, pulled at her, tugged at her as they dragged her further into the trees. I dreamt that I drew my sword then to rush to her aide, but its blade became a snake. Its eyes froze me for an instant, then it snapped its fangs into my neck.
I woke then, and there was someone at the door to my room.
“Bellabel,” I called out, as in my grogginess I only managed to see it was a woman’s form that stood there.
The figure stepped forward, into a slant of light seeping in from a partially open window curtain. Through sleep-drunken eyes, I saw it was Kyra.
“Kyra,” I mumbled.
“You’ve been sleeping for days.” She stepped nearer, and I could see she was wearing a relaxed outfit of a bustier and wool skirt. “Bellabel came to find me. Said she was worried about you.”
“How long do you mean… slept for days?”
“Two days,” it was Bellabel who answered for her as she closed the room’s door behind her. “Two days and three nights.”
“It’s a long sleep,” Kyra said. “Perhaps we should call a healer, even Dorgramu might be.”
“No,” I shook my head as I sat up. “Come Bellabel, it’s my beast, it grows weary after so much effort. We did just wage a war against a horde of fell creatures. You know I slept just as long on the ship we took from Kenessos.”
“Yes, but this time you caught a fever. And… you seemed to be dreaming nightmares. I became worried.”
“Well, I’m alright. Nightmares can’t hurt one, can they?”
Bellabel stepped closer now, so that the two women were at the edge of my bed.
“You… spoke Kyra’s name many times. While you slept.”
“Well.. what can I say, Kyra might have been in a dream. Something about her being attacked. It makes sense, we did just fight an Orc horde. My beast must still be on guard.”
“I have brought you this oil,” the Sarthean said as she came to the edge of my bed. “Yorbrand was kind enough to find it for me. It is Samphor oil. It will ease you.” She took out a long thin flask filled with a golden oil. “Here, hold out your hands Kyra.”
Kyra did so, though there was a look of confusion on her face. Bellabel poured oil into her cupped hands.
“Now,” Bellabel said as she slid the bed fur out of the way and motioned for me to lie down. “Here, rub some on his chest.”
Kyra sat on the edge of the bed, folding a leg up so that her skirt rode high and revealed a length of muscular thigh. She leaned toward me but then paused. “Why must I do it, Bellabel? Are you not better at this?”
“You see...” she answered, looking between me and Kyra, “one of Samphor’s properties is it heals the heart. And who better to do it, than the person whose name Rothan called while he slept.”
I turned. “I was merely dreaming. Nightmares can mean any kind of thing.”
“Whatever it is, this oil will lift that weight from your heart.” She took Kyra’s hands and guided them to my chest. “There, just rub slowly, like this.”
Bellabel showed Kyra how to move her hands, her fingers spreading like a waking cat spreads its limbs. I was surprised that the coconut almond-like aroma of the oil did seem to relax me, and I felt a sweet ache in my chest as Kyra went on massaging.
“There,” Kyra said, “is that enough?”
“You tell me,” Bellabel answered.
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Because you can feel what is in his heart.” Bellabel moved a lock of Kyra’s gold hair from her face. “You see how we ease him? We can go on easing him. Go on loving him.”
Kyra suddenly brought her hands back to her lap in fists. “Rothan and I have spoken of this and it is settled. I won’t stand in your way and I do not begrudge either of you.” She rose and motioned for the door. Bellabel grabbed her wrist.
“But you’ll begrudge yourself for denying the two of you. Don’t you see, it hurts him to lose you. And I know it must hurt you. I saw how worried you were when I told you he was ill. I saw how much you wanted to see him. I see how you look at him now.”
“I care about him. I always will. But that does not mean—”
“Just let me speak my peace, and I will not be angry if you still want to leave.” Kyra was silent. “You have been thinking of it all wrong. You think I come between you, that he would be divided. We would not be sharing Rothan, Kyra.” Her eyes sparkled. “You and Rothan would be sharing me.” She guided her to sit back down on the bed. “He would be my master. You would be my mistress. I would be yours as much as his.”
“Why would I want a woman as mine?” Kyr
a glanced at me in confusion, then back to Bellabel.
“Because only a woman can know certain things about another woman.” Bellabel sat beside Kyra, slightly behind her. “Here, you must relax. You northerners are such strong people, perhaps it is why you burdens yourselves so much.” She took a bit of the oil into her hands and began rubbing Kyra’s shoulders. “Kyra, we just journeyed together, and I have seen that you would make a good sister, a good lover to Rothan. And you have seen I hold a loyalty to you of a trusted companion, do I not?”
“Aye, you do.”
“Well,” Bellabel said, smiling with her eyes, and continuing her massaging of Kyra’s shoulders, her long-lashed eyes moving up and down Kyra’s curves. “I also… find you beautiful, striking as a lion in the sun. Do you... find me beautiful?” Bellabel took off her outer gown, her long-nailed fingers moving slowly. Underneath she was wearing the delicate half-translucent outfit she had purchased, but which I had not let her fully enjoy. She brushed some of her maple syrup hair off her lean shoulders, her breasts swaying with the movement. “Do you?”
“I… I had not thought of it,” Kyra said, seeming to enjoy Bellabel’s delicate touch as she worked her way to her lower back and around to her waist.
“Well I will try to be more beautiful in your eyes then,” Bellabel said and then her hands caressed Kyra’s upper chest. She unlaced her bustier and Kyra’s heavy breasts slumped out from the garment. Kyra’s eyes roamed in a kind of curious confusion. Bellabel’s copper hands began massaging Kyra’s pink-nippled mounds as if they were made of a priceless clay. When her fingers squeezed Kyra’s nipples and gave them a teasing twist, Kyra closed her eyes. Her mouth parted in contained pleasure. Bellabel slipped her own thin garment from her body with a single fluid twirl of her hand. The gossamer gown fell from her, exposing the sand dunes that were the curves of her body.
“Am I more beautiful to you now?” Bellabel said as she slowly took Kyra’s face in her hands and gazed into her eyes.
Kyra looked at Bellabel’s naked body up and down. Her reply was barely audible, came just as a whisper. “Aye.”
“Then don’t let me come between you and Rothan’s love. Let me be a servant to it.”
Kyra gave a little girlish nod that for the powerful warrior that she was, made me love her all the more.
My eyes rounded as I saw Bellabel give Kyra the slowest most delicate kiss, then they nearly bulged out of my skull when I saw Kyra kiss her back, eagerly, searchingly.
The two women kissed one another, sitting there atop my bed, Bellabel’s delicate bronzed limbs roaming over Kyra’s much larger, stronger, paler frame. My grogginess, the oil’s scent and the sight of the two women kissing, stroking each other’s hair, each other’s legs and breasts: it all made me feel as if I were in a dream still.
Bellabel stopped for a moment, looked down at me and smiled.
“It looks like we finally woke Rothan up.”
I looked to what she was gazing at: my bed furrs were tented by my hardened cock, tented so tall a damn hundred men could have slept under them.
“Well, come closer Rothan,” Bellabel said with a smile.
She didn’t have to tell me twice. The fur covers flew from me as I tossed them aside and sat up. I made my way to Kyra, laid her on her back and spread her legs, running my hands over them as I did, feeling the smooth strength of her muscular frame. I climbed on top of her.
“Wait, wait, Rothan,” Bellabel said. It was almost as if she was gently reprimanding a child. “You see, Kyra? This is why I am around. To make sure you have plenty of time to enjoy yourself before you bring in this wild beast.” She giggled as she looked back at me. Her delicate, long-nailed hands nudged me aside, then she slowly crawled on top of Kyra. She made her way slowly, the way a cat moves. She kissed Kyra all along the way, beginning with her calves, the back of her knees, the inside of her thighs, her crest of her hip-bone, her shoulders, her neck. All the while she went on caressing her body, enveloping Kyra in a constant, building pleasure. She made her way back down Kyra’s large pale torso, her hair dangling down tickling Kyra’s skin. When her face came to her spread legs, she looked up.
“I feel guilty, Kyra.” The Sarathean beauty smiled. “How can this be service of mine, when I am enjoying it so much?”
“Somehow I think…” Kyra said, trying to catch her breath, her eyes wide with anticipation, “that I will enjoy this part a lot more than y——hmmm!” Kyra could not finish her words as Bellabel’s mouth spread over her bright pink folds. Her tongue began rhythmically… dancing is what I could call it, a slowly building, searching, hungry dance. Kyra threw her head back in stifled gasps. She clenched fistfuls of bedsheet to contain herself. As I watched Bellabel pleasure the leonine beauty, I was unsure what to do. I had to contain my desire to begin piercing one of them—or both somehow in my maddened state of mind. My hands ran over Bellabel’s hair, her reed of a waist, her firm little ass.
Bellabel looked up for a moment, letting her fingers begin exploring Kyra’s soaking wet folds. “Don’t worry, Rothan, in time we will be as good a team as a troupe of Sarathean acrobats.” She giggled as she ran a finger smoothly, quickly up the underside of my shaft. I groaned with a mix of pleasure and nearly uncontrollable desire.
“Gods, how long must I wait,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
“Until Kyra has her fill,” Bellabel answered, then her fingers continued penetrating into Kyra’s folds, but now they were partnered with her tongue that went on stroking her pink flower’s center, then found the little rosebud half hidden at the top of her folds.
My breath was a blasting furnace as I watched. Kyra writhed, her face nearly melting with pleasure. Her gasps, her sighs, her moans came more frequent, louder, more piercing. Bellabel did not let up, but instead her stroking, her dancing tongue instensidfied. “Ohhhh! Shit!” Kyra moaned, arching her back and thrusting her hips right off the bed and into the air. Even so, Bellabel clung to her like a kitten suckling, her small weight being easily held up by Kyra’s ample hips. One of the desert beauty’s hands wrapped around a flexed thigh, the other frantically curled fingers inside Kyra’s canal. Her tongue went on flickering near fast as a hummingbird's wings on the Kyra’s rosebud. My blonde’s hips reached even higher into the air as her breath shuddered, then came falling back down in release.
Bellabel pulled back and I saw that Kyra was dripping, near as a man does when he has spilled his seed. She was rocking gently from side to side, still enjoying the tremors running through her body. Shudders of gasping laughter began running through her. Bellabel giggled too.
“Alright, shall we bring in the poor beast man now, Kyra? I think he is about to have sex with the bedpost if we don’t.”
“Aye,” Kyra said, looking at me with her reddened, ecstatic face. “Aye.”
I felt a surge of anticipation run through me as I quickly picked her up, and turned her. She was on her knees now, her voluptuous backside facing me, her sex dripping wet and ready for me.
“Rothan, Rothan, dear,” Bellabel said and reached up to kiss me. It was quick but a sweet kiss from her glistening lips, the pungent taste of Kyra’s juice still on them. “There will be plenty of time for that, but tonight is all about showing Kyra how to enjoy herself.”
I was of a mind to ignore this and go on, but Bellabel gripped my cock in her soft hands and she squeezed it so that my spine perked and my eyes widened with alertness. As she stroked it, unable to close her fingers around it for it was so engorged, she guided me back down on my back. The bed was like a warm pool as I reclined back into it.
“Come Kyra,” my Sarathean said, “I will show you how to use our beastman to pluck your body’s fruit.”
Kyra’s full breasts dangled from her as she twisted toward me in a crawl. I began rising to meet her, but Bellabel touched my chest to halt me.
“You just stay there, Rothan. Relax yourself. We will take care of your desire, believe me.”
I leaned b
ack on the bed, my legs stretched out in front of me, my cock even taller than it was before as I felt it pulse in arousal.
“Come Kyra, sit on top of your mount,” Bellabel motioned for her to sit and Kyra squatted on my hips, while Bellabel sat behind her. My loyal concubine took my manhood in her hand and guided it into Kyra, its head being enveloped by Kyra’s bright folds as she came sliding down in a squat. It was a slow entrance as my cock was engorged to its limit, and Bellabel was delicate if anything. I felt the thick hot fluid of Kyra’s canal cover my cock, making an audible squishing sound as I entered her.
“Rothan, I have…” Kyra shuddered out, “never felt you this hard.” She began rocking her hips back and forth on mine, the large muscles on her legs flexing rhythmically.
Bellabel stayed behind her, running her hands all along Kyra’s belly, playing with her breasts. She licked at my golden-haired woman’s earlobe, kissed her neck, ran her fingers through her wild mane of hair as only another woman can know to do.
Kyra’s cheeks became red roses from arousal as she switched rocking from back and forth to bouncing up and down on my cock. Her blonde locks danced on her shoulders. Small beads of sweat began pooling between her luscious, heavy breasts. They made a wet slapping noise as she bounced faster and faster on top of me.
“Ah, gods….” Kyra sighed as she soaked in pleasure with every part of her body.
It took all my self control not to sit up and take her in a maddened frenzy of fucking, but I knew to follow Bellabel’s lead for now, to let Kyra discover new pleasures. As my eyes drank in the stirring sight of Kyra’s shuddering body and Bellabel’s bronzed arms and lips running all over it, a great pleasure filled me. It was the pleasure of seeing the two women I loved loving each other, giving each other pleasure, especially to Kyra who I knew was the one with the harder northern heart.
“There, just like that, Kyra,” my Sarathean concubine said. “It is a dance, it is a slow churning of milk… do exactly what feels good to you and you alone.”
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