"Thank you," Izra offered softly.
Ramora kissed her, giving her all the passion she had, winding her sorrow, suffering and pain into it, venting out all her hurt in a single moment of need. The Deep Elf returned it fully, holding her close, needing her just as much in return.
They savored just that for a while, the feel of each other, the being held in return. The exquisite passion of the kiss, neither wanting it to end, letting it draw out long enough to silence their agony of not being in the arms of the ones they truly longed for.
It was a strange thing, Ramora felt, that the agents of the Divine were so very fragile, seeking solace anywhere they could, in a world they couldn't truly belong in.
When Izra finally pulled back a bit, Ramora gasped out a breath, her body feeling overheated from the feel of the Elf. With a smile, her fellow Blessed nodded, having the same reaction, and tugged at the towel till it fell free, leaving the other woman bare to her touch.
Gripping her arms as she held her, Ramora wished she could groan openly as the Elf left warm kisses along her neck and throat, easing her way lower, hands traveling up her back as her head sank to nestle between the warrior’s breasts, where she rested herself for a moment.
Ramora's fingers tugged the ribbon that held the Elf's long hair back, letting it fall free so she could tangle her hands in it, the silken feel making her tremble with need. Izra turned hazy eyes up at her for a moment, before capturing a hardened nipple, her lips teasing it fuller, making her new-found lover all but melt in the floor.
Faint as a whisper, her tongue drifted down over Ramora's stomach, pausing to savor the hard muscle there for a moment before the Elf fell fully to her knees, her hands straying down to stroke hard thighs for a moment, then up to cup the warrior's full breasts as she savored the feel and smell of her.
Ramora felt the room spin a little at the skillful touch of the Elf’s tongue, making her shudder in delight as she grabbed the bedpost for support, draping a leg around the Elf's shoulder, her free hand urging her on. It'd been too long since she'd known a feminine touch, and welcomed it eagerly.
Hungry to be at peace in her own mind as well, Izra buried herself between the warrior’s legs, finding solace and joy there from the darkness that threatened her will to fight on. Her warmth, the tremble in her legs, the sound of her breathing, even the feel of her skin growing moist from the heat of her body, all washed away the Elf's agony.
The cold hard reality that had ruined her earlier mood was unable to intrude on her this time as Ramora rocked her hips against the Elf's nimble touch. Far quicker than she'd expected, she felt her body tighten, the artful way Izra manipulated her driving any thought from her mind save that of the pleasure she was given. Fingers caressed, guiding her as she moved against the source of her desire, making her lose all sense of anything in the world but that.
When her release came, it shook her hard, leaving her panting for breath as she clung to Izra, hands gripping the Elf's shoulders tight. To her amazement, her lover teased it out, making the ripples of gratification go on and on, until she could take it no more and almost collapsed, her legs giving out fully in sheer bliss.
Izra caught her, easing her down onto the bed, where Ramora gasped for air, her entire body humming. Resting her moist chin on her stomach, the Elf smiled at her as she slowly stilled, the room swaying wonderfully. Reaching out, she rested a hand on her head and smiled.
"Had enough?" Izra asked.
Ramora shook her head, reaching both arms out for her.
Standing, the Elf unbuttoned her dress, letting it fall away, her skin glowing in the faint light. Ramora wanted to weep at her beauty, unmarred and perfect, unlike her own. Well-muscled and lean, the Elf urged her back onto the bed as Ramora stroked her smaller, but firm breasts lovingly. Reluctantly, she left off of them to crawl back, letting her lover cover her.
"Time enough for that," Izra promised with a soft whisper, lounging across her, squirming a little against Ramora's larger bosom. "More than enough, I think."
Laughing silently, she stroked the Elf's long, elegantly tapered ears, getting a soft groan of delight from her as Izra nuzzled her neck, kissing lightly. She felt more than good, Ramora thought, tracing fingers down her back, receiving a wonderful shiver in return.
They teased at each other for a while, soft kisses and gentle stroking, taking their time to enjoy. There was no rush. No need to be frantic about it. They had all night. Ramora planned to spend it, too.
When Izra drew her leg over Ramora's, her thigh nestling comfortably as she rested against the other woman’s, she got a smile for it, making her world brighten. Kissing her slowly, leisurely, the Elf moved against her, feeling her respond in kind.
This, too, they did not hurry. Rocking slowly, savoring the feel of each other as their bodies reacted, giving them all they needed to slide against one another, they took it slow, losing themselves in the moment. Gentle kisses turned languid, lasting long as Izra slipped her fingers in Ramora's briefly before they wrapped each other in their arms once more.
Gentleness slowly gave way to eagerness as they reached higher together, their movements growing more hungry, by increments measured in the soft moans and sighs that slipped from the Elf when her mouth wasn't owned by her lover. Need rose, driving them on, Izra burying her face against Ramora's neck, gasping out softly whispered pleas.
Nibbling her ear, she grasped the Elf tighter, bucking against her, too lost in desire to remember she couldn't make a sound, her panting all the encouragement the other needed. It was the most wonderful of slow tortures, as it built, both eager for it, but trying to put it off, wanting this to last.
When it came, Izra's cries were music to Ramora's ears, her body shuddering in release as she kept moving, unable to stop. Her own striking a moment later, she clung to the dark-skinned Elf desperately, her entire body alive with pleasure as it clenched, holding her firm.
Damp, they held each other as the lamp burned low, the dark a welcoming thing as they gasped for breath. Somewhere, Izra found the strength to raise her head, finding Ramora's lips and claiming them eagerly. Wrapped in the smell of her, the warrior let herself belong only to her.
"Done?" Izra finally managed.
Ramora shook her head, rolling her over so she covered the Elf.
"Thank the Gods," she whimpered. "I was really hoping not."
Chuckling silently, Ramora wrapped arms around her waist as her lips burned a hot trail across the Elf's body, paying special attention to her beautiful breasts, captivated by them for some time. Izra trembled, moaning, hands in her hair, soft pleas not to stop floating in the air with gossamer wings.
When she finally pulled herself away, Ramora began a slow journey down, the scent of the Elf's heat making her dizzy with lust. Shaking like a leaf, Izra urged her on, unable to think of anything but that.
When she arrived, Ramora lingered, much to her lover’s delight.
They made it last till the dawn.
Chapter Forty-Five
CHARA CAME TO SLOWLY, drifting awake from a pleasant dream about things that made her feel warm and flushed as she opened her eyes. Stretching, she curled against the pillow she was cuddling in her sleep, allowing herself to drift, pert breasts floating through her mind for a moment more.
She blinked. Pert breasts? Easing herself up, she looked around, realizing she wasn't where she normally was when she woke up. It took a moment to recognize Rayne's loft. Plus, she was in Rayne's bed. Naked. Dreaming of pert breasts.
"Oh, not again," she groaned, collapsing back. "Seriously, I can't even keep my legs together in my sleep."
Closing her eyes, she sighed. The bed did feel good, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd woken up feeling so rested. Besides, it wasn't like she found the little Half Elf unattractive. Quite the opposite, when she really considered it.
Rested wasn't the only thing she'd woken up feeling. She was alone, though, making her wonder where Rayne was. She could see the sm
all kitchen was empty, the bathroom as well, the curtain that marked it off left open.
She didn't remember that. Come to think of it, she didn't remember getting out of the tub, either. Last thing she did recall was after Rayne had slid in behind her, washing her hair, then things had gotten a little touchy feely.
She felt her body flush with heat again. No wonder she'd woken up randy. Closing her eyes again, she could bring back the feel of the Spellweaver's body against her, breasts brushing her back, those wonderfully stiff nipples grazing over her skin.
Chara moaned softly, her hand drifting lower to encourage her imaginings of what she hoped had happened next. It bothered her she couldn't quite remember. Rayne had been holding her, talking softly in her ear as she'd stroked the Half Elf's leg. There'd been a few timid kisses, she remembered that.
Her hand worked slowly at the thought. It had been like magic, which sort of made sense, as Rayne was a mage and all. Her hands had slid up, cupping, teasing, fingers lightly pinching, then, nothing. The rest was a blank. That was annoying in the least.
Chara frowned, then filled in the blanks herself, finding her own release, since she was without the woman she'd obviously shared a bed with. Hadn't she? As her body clenched, soft cries of pleasure slipping from her lips, she tried to remember it, but couldn't.
Panting a little, she lay there for a while as the sunlight filtered in past the curtains. They must have. Why else would she be asleep in her bed, in the morning, when it had been early afternoon when she'd gotten there?
If they hadn't, then Chara realized she'd just gotten herself off in another person’s bed, which was kind of weird. Check that, she corrected, for normal people, kind of weird. For me, probably can go with average.
Pulling herself up, she padded across the floor to the bathroom and cleaned herself up. Casting about, she couldn't see her clothes anywhere, then noticed Rayne had a one of those little auto-washers she'd heard of, but never seen before now. Checking it, she found her cotton shirt and the leather pants she'd had on the day before, both clean and dry.
"Gotta get me one of these things," she mumbled as she tugged them on, looking around for her boots. Finding them under the couch, for some reason, she sat and laced them, spotting her gun belt rolled up in a chair.
She sat there for a bit, wondering about the previous day. Maybe she was going crazy, running around without a thought, throwing herself at random people's crotches. That wasn't a sane thing for a person to do, was it?
Mastiff had said it wasn't abnormal for a person who had experienced true battle, or the loss of friends. Still, she wondered if she'd been thinking at any point in the day, or just moving, on automatic.
Taking a deep breath, she let it out slow, then nodded. "New day. Forget the past, move to the future. Just act like it never happened. Even though that part with me playing with myself in Rayne's bed happened today, technically speaking, but I'm gonna call that a yesterday thing anyway. Yeah. Yesterday thing."
Strapping on her gun belt, she headed downstairs, looking for either Rayne or Guido. Not that the mobile trash pile could tell her where the Half Elf had gone, but at least he would be company till she returned. After a fashion. Chara wondered when her sense of normal had gone on a permanent vacation.
Downstairs, the shop was dark, but she could hear an odd hissing sound coming from the workshop. Pushing the door open, she spotted the Spellweaver standing by her workbench, draped in Mastiff's coat and nothing else, her goggles in place. In front of her, held by a vice attached to the bench, was a long, wide sword with green, glowing, runic writing down the center of the blade. Rayne hunkered over it, a small gout of intense blue flame coming from her finger as she traced the sword’s edge, leaving it red hot. A few feet away, Guido tried in vain to clean the floor, rolling around leaving tracks in the thick dust.
So, this is what a normal morning is like around here, Chara thought, leaning on the door frame to watch the slender little Half Elf work, admiring her warmly. A gal could get use to waking up like this every day.
Okay, that was a weird thought, she admitted. Where did that come from?
The hissing stopped as Rayne pulled her hand back, shaking the flame away while she leaned in, giving the edge of the blade a long look. Seeming satisfied, she straightened up, stretching her back, getting a loud pop from it as she drooled a little. Chara couldn't help but giggle at it.
Rayne snapped around, stared at her for a moment, then smiled, looking completely mad in the coat and goggles. "Mornin', sleepy head. How you feelin'?"
"Better, thanks," Chara nodded. "Though, I've got to ask if we, you know, got more intimate last night?"
Rayne's smile faded. "You don't remember?"
"Yeah, not really," she said, feeling a little embarrassed. "I recall us kissing in the tub, then everything sort of goes black."
"The most amazing night of my life, and you don't remember it?" Rayne whimpered, lip quivering. "The best sex I've ever had, and you don't remember it?"
Chara turned bright red. "I'm so sorry, Rayne. It's probably just because of that Ogre whiskey. It'll come back to me."
"That'd be neat, since I'm screwing with you," the Half Elf laughed.
Chara buried her face in her palm, then sighed heavily. "Of course you are. Naturally. I forgot for a minute who I was dealing with."
"That's not to say it wouldn't have ended up there the way things were going," the Spellweaver told her. "But, you conked out. Fell dead to the world just as I was getting ready to make my big move. Not that I'm insulted or anything, which I totally am, of course, but you'd had a rough day, so it's understandable that you'd be sleepy, even though I was bringing my A game, which has, in the past, so you know, been rated triple A."
Blinking at the rapid fire barrage of nonsense, Chara rubbed her face. "There a reason we're back to you acting crazy?"
Rayne paused a moment as she prepared to release the vice. "Yeah. I almost broke a rule last night, cause it's you. I guess I'm feeling defensive."
"What rule?" the young woman asked. "Defensive? I don't understand."
Rayne sighed heavily, flopping over to her and putting a hand over her right eye. "I never sleep with people who aren't who they think they are. That's a rule I have. Your face is still wrong. So's your voice. You aren't you yet. I can't sleep with you until you are. When you're you, I will, but not till then. Got it?"
"Not even a little," Chara admitted.
Rayne bobbled her head. "Yeah, well, don't worry about it. There's always the chance I really am just insane."
"I don't buy that for a minute," Chara retorted.
Rayne shrugged, looking absurd in the oversized coat. "Can't be helped. That's just the way it is. Cookies, crumbling, that sort of thing."
Growing annoyed, Chara barked at her. "It would be really nice if you'd stop being ridiculous for a minute and just talk to me, Rayne."
The Half Elf hopped back to the bench as she said it, then paused. "I can't. I'm sorry."
"Rayne, please, don't shut me out like this," Chara pleaded. "You're the only thing in my life right now that feels stable and sane. I don't know why, or even how that makes sense, but there it is. I need you, and you promised you'd be there for me. Please, stop this."
Rayne stood still for a bit. "Have you ever heard the Elven theory of twin souls?"
Slumping, seeing the Spellweaver wasn't going to relent, Chara shook her head. "No, I haven't."
"The story goes that everyone is born with only half a soul," she said, voice soft and low. "The other half of that soul is born to someone else. The two halves, separated, feel empty and lost, without even knowing why. They spend their whole lives searching for each other, because only together can they feel complete. When they meet, they know. They don't need logic, or reason. It doesn't have to make sense. They just know. They balance each other, you see, and together, they make a complete person. Until they find each other, though, no matter what they do, they feel incomplete, deep down, like
they don't really understand who they are. That's the story of twin souls."
Chara realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly. Something in her tone, the way she stood, made her sad. Like she should be holding the little Half Elf.
"I can't talk to you properly right now. I'm sorry," the Spellweaver said after a minute. "My heart hurts too much. You aren't you, and I don't know why, and I don't like it. Please, be you now. I've waited so long. It isn't fair to make me wait any more. Please, be my angel now."
"I..." Chara stammered.
Rayne waved her arms about, making the sleeves dance. "It's just superstition, silly goose. I'm screwing with you again. I do that a lot."
Not believing her for a second, Chara wondered what she'd meant by it all. Feeling sad for no reason she could find, she sagged against the door frame, watching the Half Elf take the sword from the vice.
"Taa daa!" Rayne declared, whipping it about. "The sword you requested, my ladyship!"
Chara swallowed her confusion and sadness. She stepped forward, putting a smile on. "Did you make that overnight?"
"No," the Spellweaver snorted. "I'm awesome, but not ultimate level awesome. I had it laying around. It needed to be sharpened, and I wove a lattice into it, but I didn't forge it overnight, silly."
"Sorry," Chara replied sarcastically. "Forgive me for paying you a compliment."
"I will, this time," the Half Elf huffed, pointing the sword at her. "Next time, you'll have to get on your knees, though."
"Uh," Chara snickered.
"Pervert," Rayne groused.
"Says the girl wearing nothing but a coat," Chara shot back with a grin.
Rayne looked down. "No wonder it was so drafty."
Shaking her head at the woman’s antics, Chara motioned for the sword. "Show me what you wove in."
"Right!" Rayne trumpeted, dropping the hilt in her hand with a great deal of fanfare, which was mostly Guido clattering a lot.
"It's light," Chara commented, hefting it easily.
"That was the first trellis, yeah," Rayne said. "It weighs about half what it should, which is something, since bastard swords are typically heavy."
Rise (War Witch Book 1) Page 58