by R. Cooper
Prityal startled into motion once Delf was bootless and would have undone her own belt if Delf had not recalled her duty as a squire and silently taken over the task. Delf had to kneel for the boots, and was not sure if she was grateful that Prityal had not worn greaves, since that would have meant more time on her knees while Prityal watched her with her hands trembling at her sides.
Prityal’s surcoat was next, fluffing her curls as Delf pulled the garment away. Prityal made a face, not entirely displeased by that, judging from the smile that followed, and turned without being asked to allow Delf to unbutton and pull away her doublet.
Her undershirt was thin and the room was bright. Delf politely averted her eyes while tugging her own surcoat off, and left Prityal to undress the rest of the way to her level of comfort. She would not have minded pulling off Prityal’s breeches or hose, but their understanding had been for armor alone.
Prityal made a rough noise, perhaps irritated, but kneeled down and got onto the pallet in her sleeveless undershirt, with her hose still on. She’d left her breeches on the floor. Delf picked them up and placed them neatly with the rest of Prityal’s things, then kneeled on the pallet under Prityal’s sharp gaze.
“Your cut has healed cleanly,” Prityal observed. “But your padding still should have held.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll get better armor.” Delf turned to wriggle out of her breeches. The room was sunny but hardly warm, so she tugged Prityal’s cloak up over them as she lay down. The cloak was mostly over Prityal, but Prityal was the one who suffered more in a chill.
“I will get you better armor,” Prityal murmured grumpily while rolling onto her side to make room for Delf. “You will be protected.”
Delf briefly paused at this pronouncement, then continued to settle down, facing Prityal’s back. It put her between Prityal and the door, something she did not think a tired Prityal had noticed yet, since she had not remarked on it.
She smiled at the back of Prityal’s neck and wished to place a kiss there. She had no idea if it would be welcome, but rest was more important than Delf’s desires, anyway. She closed her eyes to listen to their breathing as it slowed.
She opened her eyes again after some time had passed, because of Prityal’s long, quiet sigh.
“You’re not sleeping.” Delf propped herself up on one hand to peer down at Prityal in concern.
Prityal ducked away, then glanced over her shoulder. She took a deep breath. “I was not sure if… You’re not sleeping, either,” she pointed out, and rolled onto her back to stare up at Delf. “I find it difficult with you close, now,” she stated boldly, only to lower her eyes a moment later. “I should not have mentioned your markings, the hidden ones, in front of Rosset.”
Delf found herself smiling giddily down at her, and struggled to compose herself before Prityal looked back up. “Well,” she said finally, reacting to the last part first. “I didn’t mind much that you did, though I was surprised. But before we discuss that, you should know I have been lying here wishing to kiss your neck.”
Prityal wet her bottom lip, then swallowed. “What stopped you?”
“Fear that it was not welcome,” Delf replied honestly. “This morning, I thought you were angry with me.”
“Delflenor,” Prityal sighed her name in a way Delf already loved too much, “I was not angry. I was… I didn’t know how to ask. Bors—” Prityal worked her jaw once. “She is pretty and she likes you. If you’d rather…”
She stopped herself with a scowl and then said nothing, only watching Delf carefully.
Delf closed her mouth so she would not laugh or say something regrettable. Prityal was not open with many, and considering their history, would probably misunderstand if Delf spoke foolishly because she was surprised.
“I wouldn’t rather,” Delf answered at last, and settled back down onto her side. They were closer than before, but she had to shift a little to get her chin on Prityal’s shoulder. “I’d rather this,” she added, and pressed a swift kiss to the soft place at the base of Prityal’s neck.
Prityal slid a hand into Delf’s hair almost instantly, pulling more of it loose and sighing as it slipped between her fingers. Delf stayed where she was, already flushed at the slight tug. Then Prityal tipped her head to the side, inviting, so Delf kissed her again. She let this one linger. Prityal caught her breath, a delightfully encouraging sound, and hummed when Delf put a hand to her hip and pressed closer to begin kissing her neck in earnest. Neither of them were particularly clean, but the smell of sweat and icor had never bothered Delf, and she was distracted by the noises Prityal made when she sucked a tiny mark at her collarbone.
She wondered if no one had ever dared before, and stopped before she used her teeth, pulling away to stare at the mess she had made of the Hope.
Prityal met her eyes, pushed out her bottom lip, then tugged Delf back down by her hair. Delf gasped into it, her hand sliding down to the pallet to hold her up. Prityal kissed her as if she had thought of these kisses all through the night when she could not sleep, taking Delf’s mouth over and over until Delf could not think. Prityal was not rough. Delf might have wished for that if she could think of anything else but their shared breath and the closeness of their bodies, how Prityal continued to hold her by her hair as though she had noticed the pleasure Delf took in it.
No one had ever starved for Delf in this way. Delf could have kissed her for hours, though her cunt throbbed, and high, whining sounds escaped her when Prityal pushed up her undershirt to grasp her hip. Prityal had said she could not climax easily, and perhaps she could not, in different times, but after this much kissing, she would likely be wet if Delf touched her, and Delf ached at the thought.
“Let me,” she asked between the drag of their lips and the scrape of Prityal’s fingernails along her scalp. She thought about undressing her, about having Prityal naked, and serving her until exhaustion stopped her, but when Prityal sighed, “Delflenor,” into her neck and dug her fingers into Delf’s hip, Delf was again reduced to the simple plea. “Let me. Please.”
She placed her hand on Prityal’s stomach and moved it with deliberate slowness to the knot at the belt holding up her hose.
“I wanted to please you,” Prityal complained without stopping her, biting the tender spot beneath Delf’s ear, then pulling the lobe into her mouth to toy with Delf’s piercings.
Delf shuddered for her and yanked at the knot with much less care. “You already please me,” she promised, pushing the hose down to cup the heat between Prityal’s legs. Prityal was wet and hot, pounding against Delf’s palm. “You—ah,” Delf could not speak for a moment at the fiercer bite Prityal gave her and the hard kiss that followed. Prityal fisted a hand in her hair, sending shocks all through Delf’s body, and dragged her nose over the skin she had left stinging. She hummed, fully aware of what she was doing to Delf. Delf could not stop her mouth. “You please me. You please me so much. Let me show you.”
She ducked her head, though any passing begleys would have to deal with the noises she made. If Prityal did not know Delf was hers to command, she would soon. Delf could hear herself crooning, babbling adoring nonsense. Nothing silenced her but Prityal herself pulling Delf down to bruise her lips with more kisses.
“Enough,” she said, soothing and breathless, petting Delf’s cheekbones to calm her. Delf’s skin was flaming hot and her breathing was uneven. Want had exposed her, something to worry over, perhaps, when she was not being kissed and soothed and made all the more desperate for it. “Enough.” Prityal’s words were as tender and careful as her caresses, and then she smiled, almost shyly, against Delf’s mouth before directing her once more. “You can please me. Ah, Delflenor.” She opened her legs to allow Delf to settle between them, and stroked her fingertips down the back of Delf’s neck, and said, “I am waiting,” in such a stern, fond tone that Delf hurried to her task.
Prityal was slick and welcoming, and lifted her hips to help fuck herself on Delf’s fingers, which she seemed
to like, though slower than Delf generally did. She moaned softly all the while; a secret against Delf’s ear. Delf fucked her until her moans staggered and broke, until Prityal tugged a handful of Delf’s hair again and pushed Delf’s head down so Delf could suckle at her breast through the cloth, and then she came apart, cunt clutching so tight around Delf’s fingers that Delf stopped, and then slowed even more to let her draw out her pleasure.
It took some time for Prityal to relax her grip on Delf’s hair, though she grasped it again when Delf withdrew her fingers. Delf hummed around her nipple, then eased up to her knees to once again observe the Hope with kiss-bitten lips and wild hair and a sodden patch on her undershirt.
“You please me,” Delf informed her again quietly, so it would be known and never forgotten, even if this never again happened between them.
Prityal blinked, perhaps still seeing stars.
Delf still had a hand inside Prityal’s hose, and splayed it over one muscled leg, drawing the hose even farther down and exposing glistening curls to the light. She hummed again and shifted down to kiss the warm, giving skin of Prityal’s lower stomach, and the firm curve of her hip, and then the sweat and slippery juices of her cunt at the inside of her thigh.
Prityal scraped her nails down Delf’s scalp again, in warning or question, but did not object when Delf kissed her thighs and parted them. She shivered when Delf exhaled, and said, “Oh,” in a trembling voice Delf had never before heard from her, and let Delf bury her face in her cunt and eat it until she came again.
She was louder, this time. More trusting of Delf or more lost in her pleasure. She bent her knees and drew Delf’s hand back to her breast and shuddered against Delf’s tongue, murmured Delf’s name and called her good. Their friends had also told her of that, it seemed, but Delf could not make herself mind. She left her head in Prityal’s hands and shivered for the compliment and glanced up to determine if Prityal wished her to stop.
She kissed Prityal’s hips and her navel as she waited for Prityal to blink again and focus on her, and then, with Prityal once more petting Delf’s cheekbones and the spit and cunt-honey on her lips, asked, despite how Delf had to press her shaking, damp thighs together to contain her own want, if Prityal would like another.
She was unprepared for the light to return to Prityal’s eyes, followed by the sharp tug that forced Delf to crawl over her on hands and knees until their faces were level.
“You’re still dressed,” Prityal complained in a slow, sated voice that nonetheless conveyed her displeasure.
Delf swallowed, then nodded at the implicit order and sat back. She had to wait for Prityal to release her hair, but once it was done, her scalp throbbing in time with the rest of her, she pulled her tunic undershirt over her head and tossed it away. She unwound the strip of cloth around her chest next, then went for the belt for her hose.
“Should I touch you there this time?” Prityal asked, eyes on Delf’s body as Delf wriggled to pull her hose off without moving too far from Prityal. When Delf told her it was all right, Prityal spread her hands over Delf’s ribs and the marking she had told Rosset about, no more than three lines, near to her heart. Then, looking up to Delf’s face, she took one nipple between her fingers and pinched it.
Delf gasped at the ceiling and then down at Prityal when Prityal pressed a fingernail against the peak and waited, still watching her. Her expression was somehow both worried and smug.
“You like things I’m not used to,” Prityal observed, scraping her nail gently once, then pinching again. Her eyes lit up when Delf arched into it. “You like it like this, and I do, too.” She didn’t seem very surprised. “How you are and how you sound, it’s… good. So very good,” she added, eyes bright when those words made Delf bite her lip and shudder. “I like how strong you are. How I may hurt you this much and how you give it to me. Good,” she said again, stroking Delf’s ribs and claiming her heart all over again. “But may I also keep being soft with you?”
Delf hid her face behind her hands, just for a moment. “Please.” Her voice was husky. Her fingers were still damp. She pulled her hands away and slid her Prityal-wet fingertips between her legs. “Yes, to both. You may be stern as well, if you like, as you like. You could just lie next to me as I sleep and I would like it.”
Prityal glanced several times from Delf’s face to the sight of Delf pleasuring herself, before narrowing her eyes. It was Delf’s only warning before her hand was batted away and then her wrists were captured.
Delf was beneath Prityal only a moment later, on her back with her hands held tight, not that Delf would have struggled.
Prityal stared down at her, considering, with a bit of a thoughtful pout. “I want to do too many things,” she admitted, fitting herself between Delf’s open legs.
“You may.” Delf was breathless, and too hot to do more than lift her chin to make it more clear that she was Prityal’s in this bed. And out of it, though surely that was already obvious. “If not now, then later. Whenever you please, command me or ask me or kiss me.”
“I do not understand you.” Prityal pressed harder on Delf’s wrists. Her eyes swept over Delf and she licked her lips. “You are brave, and you are vulnerable, and I want to punish you for it and make you feel good. And when I say these things to you, you shiver. I could… you are…” Prityal pulled back. “You won’t fight me, but…” She pulled back farther, releasing Delf’s wrists, then spoke, measured and careful, “Turn over.”
Delf did so, shivering exactly as Prityal had described. The straw poked against the blanket, rough on her knees and palms. She could not steady her breathing, but Prityal must have liked the sound of her desperate panting. She inched closer, first just heat and a trace of breath, and then fingertips gliding up Delf’s wet thighs.
Prityal claimed she was not used to teasing, but she was slow to touch Delf anywhere but there, and then it was only Delf’s back, her ass, her knees as she positioned Delf how she wanted. Delf curled her hands into the blanket and waited, and still was not ready for Prityal’s mouth.
That was slow as well. No hurried, impatient fuck by a pretty pond. Today, Delf had the suspicion she was being learned, by someone who liked to be the best. Her legs were shaking before Prityal’s lips ever graced her cunt. Delf bowed her head and whimpered shamelessly, and squirmed until she was told not to.
Prityal choked after the order, then sighed before opening Delf with her thumbs and tasting her. She huffed when Delf jolted, something else to make Delf twitch, and for a moment, Prityal’s hands tightened on her. Delf gasped roughly as she might have done if Prityal had smacked her ass, but did not have the words to suggest it. She bowed her back and lowered her head, offering herself, and shuddered in surprised delight when Prityal understood and gripped her harder.
“Hold still,” Prityal warned in her softest voice, with her breath hot and close in intimate places, and hummed in approval when Delf gasped but nodded. Then she returned to her tasting, as though Delf were not swollen and open and pleading for more. She took her time with it, and slapped the meat of Delf’s thigh, just once, when Delf wriggled back.
The sounds Delf made could not be muffled by straw bedding. Prityal grabbed her hips and held her still and hummed again, enjoying Delf’s taste or the hoarseness in her voice as Delf cried out her name.
The begleys outside no doubt heard Delf begging for their beloved Tyrant-slayer to fuck her. Prityal made Delf come on her tongue first, for all of Delf’s noisy submission.
Delf thought she liked it.
“You are so…” Prityal told her, more than once, biting the inside of Delf’s thigh and then sweeping her fingers over the mark she left behind. She curled her hands over Delf’s hammermarks and kept Delf’s legs parted, touching Delf’s open cunt when she was not tasting it.
She fucked Delf at last, with more than her tongue, when Delf’s arms gave way, made Delf come on three fingers and then kept them inside for long moments afterward. “Brave,” Prityal finished at
last, while Delf struggled to regain her breath and imagined Prityal looking her over. Delf was breathless and trembling, spread across the small bed, bitten and swollen and gasping.
Prityal licked her again and Delf whined for it but did not pull away. Prityal put her hands around Delf’s thighs and then slowly, as though Delf were an icor who had done well, began to stroke them.
Delf loved her so very much.
“Do you own a cock that you would fuck me with?’ she mumbled once her tired limbs had at least stopping shaking.
Prityal paused in the middle of petting her. “No,” she answered finally, but with a tone of earnest interest. A few moments after that and she was lifting Delf’s hips to hers and moving as if imagining it. “I will get one,” she vowed, and Delf had no doubt she would return to the Seat and order Delf new armor and an attachable cock in the same trip to the markets.
Delf was going to die happy. “Whichever hole you like,” she added, her face to the bed. She grabbed at the blanket as she was adjusted once again, Prityal lining herself up as she considered fucking Delf’s ass.
“You’re brave in ways I would never think to be,” Prityal whispered after finally lowering Delf back to the bed. It was an odd thing to say in regards to ass-fucking, but when Delf rolled over, Prityal was smiling at her and the comment did not seem to be about that at all. Delf must have looked confused, because Prityal explained, “You don’t mind being like this. Vulnerable, I mean. You let me see all of you. I want to… I want to reward you for it. And then do it again.”
Delf’s body was humming, and she was too tired to question what about her was so worthy of study. “I wouldn’t say that I don’t mind,” she said instead, sleepily, eyes mostly closed, “I would say that I trust you.”
Frustration flickered through Prityal’s expression. “You tell me that I am remarkable to you, but when I try to tell you the same, you won’t understand.” She sat back and pulled at the hem of her undershirt, which she was still wearing. “I’m going to have to make you understand,” she muttered, almost to herself, then swept a look over Delf that made her sigh. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”