“He is pliable, this one,” Elan says, still exploring his body with her hands. She continues to stare at his face as she touches him. When he cries out, she closes her eyes, holding his wrist.
“Are you going to do as I tell you, little brother? All of it?”
“Yes.”
She smiles, glancing up at Laren. “I like this one. Is his cock sharp, too?”
“Yes,” Laren says.
He looks over at her answer.
Laren meets his gaze, her own faintly hard.
Then Elan is tugging at his hair, pulling him up off his back. He winces a little from the new ink on his shoulder, but follows her hands willingly enough.
“I want you to go down on me, first,” she says. “Come on, brother. You’ve likely done that with your humans...?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
She lays back on the couch, and he follows her, putting his mouth on her before she’s fully resting on her back. She is specific at first, directive, but he gradually gets her to let that go, until he can feel her starting to lose control of her light. He brings her to an orgasm...slow, pulling on her, experimenting when she isn’t telling him what to do. She is clutching his hair then, crying out when he uses his fingers.
“Stop,” she says finally, when he starts to build her again. “Stop...little brother...stop.”
Laren is pulling him back then, holding his hand, and he turns, kissing her, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him from where he kneels on the couch. When they part, she is looking at him, her eyes glazed.
Elan slides her arms around him from behind.
“Your boy knows how to give head,” Elan says to her, massaging him until his eyes close. “Won’t need to teach him much there...”
Tugging him away from Laren, she guides him to the couch once more. Once he is lying on his back, she climbs on him, and he finds himself looking up, focusing on Laren’s face. He sees her react when the other woman positions herself over him. He is still looking at her when he arches up as Elan’s light requests...until he extends fully once more, letting out a startled cry.
“Gods...” Elan cries out.
Laren clutches his wrist. Still leaning over him, she kisses him, putting light into her tongue. He loses himself in the kiss, groaning against her mouth as the other woman fucks him. Laren helps her calm him down when he starts to lose control again, kissing his throat, caressing his arm above the bandage.
He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, Laren is watching his face. He sees a flicker of pain in her...it takes him a moment to recognize the look as jealousy. The understanding brings another low groan, and then he is kissing her again.
When they part, she looks at him, then points at her own eyes, briefly, right before she kisses his, using her tongue to close them. He closes them tighter as it occurs to him why she’s done it. Both women are pulling at him again, hard enough that he loses control, nearly yelling when the Asian seer climaxes, grinding against his hips.
He is kissing Laren again, even as Elan climbs off him.
The red-headed one gives him head until he is begging her, too, then another one is on him as well, and by then, he is so close to orgasm he is literally crying. The minute the last one finishes, Laren is pushing her off, almost angrily now, pulling him up by the arm.
She lies on her back on the couch, guiding him to follow until he is on top of her.
When he enters her that time, she cries out, digging her nails into his back. He nearly hurts her, starting to extend before he’s all the way against the right part of her. He manages to stop it, mostly, then he is so far in her he nearly blacks out. She is still controlling his light, still holding him back even as she urges him harder, until he is barely aware of where he is.
The first time she climaxes, he is so far in her and the Barrier that all he can do is cry out, feeling her legs tighten around him. When she finally lets him do the same, he loses awareness completely, unable to make a sound as his body convulses in a hard angle against hers. He is whimpering as he continues to let go, gripping her hair, his forehead pressed against hers. She is still talking to him, but he can’t understand her words, can’t do anything but throw his light and body into hers, gasping in pain. He feels pain in her too, along with something else, a kind of bewildered emotion as she feels his light, as she remembers who he is.
“Gods,” she murmurs, even as he feels it on her. “Gods...Illustrious Sword...I want you again...I want you again...”
He finds himself coming a second time. His back arches violently; he calls out her name. She digs her hands into his lower back, and he forces his way as far into her as he can, nearly losing his mind when he feels her climax with him.
For a long moment, he hangs there, his mind lost in hers.
It isn’t until moments have passed, until he realizes they are alone once more, that the others left, that he finally lets his arms relax, resting his weight on her heavily. He realizes she is naked then, that he can feel her belly and her breasts and thighs; the robe is gone, but he doesn’t remember taking it off her.
She is caressing his back, his hair, his face, and he realizes he is sweating on her, too, still fighting his breath back to normal. He is still gasping a little, still trying to slow his heart rate, when he laughs, kissing her mouth.
“...I owe brother Wreg,” he says, kissing her throat. “Gods. More than he owes your mistress. Perhaps I should come to work for her...pay off his debt for him...”
Laren smiles at him, kissing his face, then his mouth.
Her kiss deepens when his does, until he can feel himself hardening again, his light coiling almost desperately into hers. Her light affects his more than he can catalogue with his mind, more than he can think past. When he breaks off the kiss, he is gasping again.
“I’m going to need all of the money he lent me,” he says, softer, kissing her ear, then her face. “I think I’m going to need a lot more money from now on, sister...”
She caresses his face, using light in her fingers. When he raises his head though, smiling, her eyes are serious. She frowns at him while he watches, biting her lip.
“What?” he says, worried. “Did I say something?”
“You need no payment,” she says quietly. “The Sword’s money is no good here.”
He tenses, staring down at her.
She only smiles, her voice low again, lower than a whisper. Her hand massages his chest, working her way down to his stomach, then below it, to just above his groin. He closes his eyes as she massages him there, her fingers sliding light into his skin.
“You can have me whenever you want, Illustrious Syrimne,” she says, her voice soft. “I want you again now...I’ll want you for days, if you let me...”
His face hardens, even as his body reacts to her words, and her fingers. He opens his eyes, frowning a little as he looks at her, but he is touched too, so much so he can’t answer her at first. When he finally does, he has to look away from her liquid gaze.
Even so, he already knows. He can’t come back here. He can’t come back here ever again.
Even Wreg seemed to have known that.
“You can’t tell anyone, Laren,” he says, soft. He caresses her face with his. “...You should not use that name, even if you are shielding us...even in jest. You cannot tell anyone who I am...that I have been here...you should forget what you saw tonight...”
“Forget that I just deflowered the Sword?” she whispers back, smiling. “I do not think that is likely to happen anytime soon, brother...”
She kisses his neck, using her light until he softens, letting his body rest back into the curve of hers. She smiles at him, caressing his chest once more.
“You’re going to be an amazing lover, brother,” she says. “...you already had half my house wanting you. I thought Elan might actually fight me for you. And you aren’t even to your full height yet...or your full size...”
He feels his fa
ce tighten again, even as his body reacts to her words.
“I only did what you told me,” he reminds her.
She laughs, kissing his mouth lingeringly.
“You will make her a good mate, brother,” she says, teasing him in a softer voice, caressing his arms. “She will be so grateful for you...she will pull on you all the time...she will do everything she can to coax you into her bed...”
Realizing who she means, he closes his eyes, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. It is more than he can handle briefly, and he grips her hair, resting his face on hers.
“Don’t talk about that,” he says.
“Why not? Is that why you waited? Were you waiting for her, brother?”
He doesn’t answer this, either. Pain eclipses his sight as he thinks about her words, making it hard for him to see her, to even think about where he is.
Then he shakes his head, clicking softly.
“You must forget who I am,” he insists. “I mean it, Laren...it is very important.”
He looks down at her, remembering his uncle’s words about this, about what he is doing. Understanding the old man’s warning now, in retrospect, isn’t enough to make him regret any of it. Not yet, anyway. But he knows that could change.
“It’s not...safe,” he says. “Knowing that. You must realize...”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she assures him.
“You cannot,” he says. “Please promise me, Laren...promise you won’t even think of it...not once, after I am gone.”
“I promise, Illustrious Sword.”
Before he can answer, she moves her hips up, spreading her legs so that he is further inside her again. He groans weakly; his eyes close, longer than a blink.
“Laren, gods...sister...”
“You can trust me, Syrimne...I will help get you ready for her...”
Pain envelops him when she slides her body under his, changing the angle. It nearly doubles him over when she pulls at him harder, almost possessively with her light. He realizes she is pulling at him with that part of her body, as well, until it feels like her mouth is on him there, and he groans louder, letting his weight grow heavy on hers once more. He is begging her again in seconds, his arms clasping her back.
At the same time, he thinks of her words, and the tight feeling in his chest worsens.
“Please, sister...don’t tell anyone...”
“You can trust me, brother,” she whispers again.
“Promise me...” he says. “Promise me you won’t...”
16
FINISHED
I COULDN’T MOVE.
I lay on my back, staring up at a green-mirrored ceiling. I didn’t remember coming out of it. I couldn’t think about how long I had been inside that place, with him...I couldn’t make myself think about what I’d seen.
My heart hurt, more than I could suppress, or keep out of my light...that pain I remembered, faintly, from long ago, from thinking he was dead. I remembered that pain well enough, but this ache in my heart was new, almost more than I could bear without voicing it somehow. I clutched at my chest protectively, fighting to breathe, unable to see for what felt like a long time.
I knew the truth behind it, though. I'd finally seen more than I could handle. Other things hurt, scared me maybe...or scarred me, maybe even more than I realized. Other things made me wonder if he'd ever be okay, if he was so far lost in insanity and death that he might never come back. But I couldn't handle what he'd just shown me. I couldn't even articulate to myself why, but that didn't really matter, either. I could feel my light closing, pulling away.
I even knew the story. He'd told me some of this before, in that rebel compound in the mountains, as the Sword. But I hadn't seen it in technicolor before, and in his version, he'd left out the part about the prostitutes. He'd also left out the part about how he'd given up...on me, anyway. On having love in the flesh, at least in this life. He'd decided he would be dead before we met again. He'd decided not to wait anymore.
I didn’t look at him.
I felt his eyes on me though. I felt his pain as he looked at me, but I couldn’t let myself think about whether it was aimed at me. I remembered how he felt, with that other seer, and the pain in my chest worsened.
Elan had been there. Elan Raven, Maygar’s mother, had been there when he lost his virginity in a whorehouse. She’d practically molested him.
I covered my eyes with a hand, trying to fight the image out of my light.
I needed a break. Balidor was right; so was Jon. I could feel it now, my gradual loss of control, the inability to keep my mind running in straight lines. I felt my own exhaustion. It wasn’t lack of sleep...not the part that hurt me, anyway. I fought it out of my light, that desperation, that pain that wasn’t just separation pain, or even regret or fear or confusion at some of the more violent things he’d shown me.
I didn’t know if I could handle much more of this.
The thought brought another hard pain in my chest, a tightness that cut off my breath. I fought back tears, fought back whatever wanted to manifest on my face.
I was losing it. I wasn’t going to be able to help him much longer. I would have to call in Vash...or Tarsi. I had to believe that I’d been right in what I’d told him, that they could do it without me. I wasn’t going to be any good to him much longer. Better to go now, before I lost control of my light altogether, and caused him to withdraw, or worse...to slide backwards into that fortress he’d built around himself.
I had been doing it for weeks now, fighting back everything I felt, every reaction I had to what I saw...anything that hit me that was personal. It wasn’t denial...not all of it, anyway. I knew what I had to do. I had to be a kind of mirror. There was no way in hell I could remain objective, but I had to at least seem objective. For him.
Whatever his words said, I knew he was sometimes consumed with guilt, or maybe just shame...to the point where he couldn’t look at me after. I didn’t know if those feelings were personal to me, or the mere fact of having any witness at all...or if it came just from having to see it all again himself. Whatever his reasons...and I didn’t probe them because I didn’t have to...I knew he was looking for any excuse, any reason to fight me more than he already was.
I struggled to bring my light under control, breathing.
The pain gradually ebbed to a bearable throbbing, somewhere in the near background. It always did, eventually...but it took longer each time. Each time, it felt a little closer, even after it had receded. Each time, it bit into me harder.
I fought to swallow, lying there a few minutes more.
I waited for it to go back more, to recede further into the background. When it didn’t, I waited until I could handle that. Or until I could at least keep it off my expression.
I wondered how long that time had been.
Going under, time distorted. That had felt like days...but I knew it had likely been hours. Ten at most. More likely, it had been seven or eight.
I grew conscious of my own fingers clenched in my shirt over my chest, and I loosened those too, taking my hand away from the sweated fabric. I laid it on the blanket by my side, and tried not to react to the fact that he’d seen me do that, as well.
I still felt his eyes on me, from where he lay only a few feet away.
It made it easier to connect, to be so close. But it made everything harder, too.
I was still trying to make up my mind to turn, to look at him, try to ascertain what lay behind his stare. I preferred to do it by reading his expression, without reaching out, without violating him inside the collar unless I absolutely had to. My own paranoia wasn’t a pressing enough reason to take advantage of the disparity between us. In fact, I couldn’t really think of a good reason to do it anymore. I suppose there had to be one, if I thought hard enough.
I still couldn’t make myself look at him.
“Allie.”
His voice was soft, almost a whisper.
I didn’t turn. His voice slid thro
ugh my light, bringing the pain back in a thick pulse, strong enough it probably showed on my face.
“Allie, look at me.”
I swallowed again. But his words got me to turn, to shift my head on the hard pillow.
Meeting his gaze, I felt a kind of pit form in my stomach. I tried to keep it off my face, studying his expression. He looked at me, and I saw something like fear in his eyes.
“Allie,” he said, softer. He touched my face.
“Are you all right?” I asked him.
His eyes shone back at me, conflicted, shimmering briefly with things I couldn’t pin down long enough to identify. But whatever it was, it was more than he could handle, too. His clear eyes changed again as I watched, morphing until I could no longer see him through them.
The softness left his face. His clear irises held mine, holding an empty scrutiny that didn’t reflect any of the things I fought in my own light...or that I’d felt in his, seconds before. All that remained was that emotionless appraisal, almost an infiltrator’s stare.
I forced myself to hold that clear gaze. I couldn't force myself to speak, though.
He looked away from me a few seconds later, frowning. I saw his eyes narrow at the wall. Thoughts clouded his colorless irises while I watched, cycling forward and back as he pursed his lips. His expression didn’t move really, but I saw flickers around his mouth and forehead, enough that I didn’t buy his stillness.
I knew that look...sort of. But I didn’t know what he was thinking. Some scenario was taking shape in his head, and he was feeding it, gearing up for something. I was still fighting to understand what I saw in his eyes when he spoke.
“So that's it, then?" he said. "We're done...aren't we?"
I swallowed. It wasn’t an auspicious start.
Still, I couldn't lie to him. Swallowing, I shook my head.
"No," I said. "I just need a break. A few days..." Seeing his jaw harden, I touched his arm, fighting not to react when he flinched. "It would be good for you. To spend some time in someone else's light. Vash's...or Tarsi's. Someone who's not going to take things so personally." I fought to swallow again, shaking my head. "Revik. I'm just tired."
Allie's War Season Two Page 94