by Leo Hull
Tristan, seething and needing an outlet for his anger, found Gori to be the perfect target.
“It took him a year to gain the skill as a Bolstered to heal his nose right,” Annik said in awe, finally looking up and meeting Tristan’s gaze. “Seeing him walk around with that crooked nose…”
With a start, Tristan recognized her eyes, wide, thankful, and the same as years ago when he’d helped her to her feet after he’d been pulled off Gori. She’d been smaller back then, so thin Tristan was sure she’d never make it, so he never gave her a second thought. He hadn’t known Annik well—she just happened to be the current target for Gori’s sick games when Tristan decided enough was enough.
“That was the first time I ever saw someone get beat like that,” Annik grinned. “There was so much blood! When he went limp and just lay there while the others struggled to pull you off, I thought you’d killed him.”
“I wish,” Tristan replied, a smile on his face as he recalled the fight. Gori, cocky as ever, squared up like the two were going to box. Instead Tristan had rushed at him, taking a blow to the head that left him dizzy but doing little to slow his momentum. Despite all Gori’s fancy training, he’d never fought out of anger and was unprepared for simple brute savagery. Tristan was as surprised as anyone when he quickly sat across Gori’s prone body, hammering his fists into the arrogant man’s face until his knuckles ached and blood spattered his arms and shirt. “That little fight felt great at the time, but he made me pay for years.”
“I know, but you were a hero to us.”
“Us?” Tristan hadn’t felt like a hero and the teachers hadn’t treated him like one. He’d been raging and the instructors made sure extra duties kept him too exhausted for any more fights. Then he’d discovered drinking.
“The girls. Gori stopped after that, so did the rest of his minions that seemed to worship the ground he stood on. I never forgot that, I just never worked up the courage to thank you.”
Annik’s gripped her hands tightly, one thumb making a small circle endlessly on the back of her other hand. Her eyes were wide and hopeful, as if expecting some magnanimous response from Tristan for heroic deeds he’d long forgot.
He’d seen this look from her before, when they’d first taken to sea and she’d sat with her spray-drenched top plastered across her chest, singing and basking in the warm breeze. At the time he’d thought her drunk on the attention of a ship full of men and the excitement of her first expedition. The fact that she threw the more glances at him than the sailors was just the exhilaration of leading her first command.
Now he knew better.
“You’re the reason I’m on this trip,” Tristan said, finally connecting his past to his present circumstances.
“Yes. I told you I asked for you to join.”
“I know, I know. But you did it because of what I did to Gori, didn’t you? You wanted to help me because of what I did all those years ago.”
“You can be better,” Annik softly said, her voice full of hope. “I thought the change in scenery might help you. The Corp agreed.”
Tristan’s mouth flapped uselessly as he struggled to process this. He’d dreaded the trip and entered new realms of debauchery in the weeks before his departure. This wasn’t new behavior, and Tristan was well practiced at immersing himself deep enough in drink that it quieted the thoughts of trying that crept in when sober.
He didn’t know exactly how to feel about Annik’s meddling. Even a day ago, he would have raged and cursed her for dragging him along. Maybe it was just the relief of saving her, or perhaps the aftershocks of Nessa’s attack, but the angry voice that had dominated Tristan’s inner thoughts sounded distant.
Despite his years spent spiraling, Annik still managed to see something in him worth saving. He’d given up those views of himself years ago, and even his father had stopped bringing him along to important deals to flaunt his Bolstered son. Annik had dried him out and he did feel better. One benefit of being a Bolstered meant when he cleansed the alcohol from his system, it was like he hadn’t touched the intoxicating beverage at all.
His mind felt as clear as Annik’s worshipping blue eyes. He enjoyed the clarity of both and opened his mouth to express as much, but instead his jaw dropped as Nessa strode into camp, water dripping from her nude form as she shook out her silver mane. Annik rolled her eyes at Tristan’s helpless loss of focus but seemed amused with his interest.
Nessa breezed past, her scraps of armor and clothes in one hand. To Tristan, it looked as if a fabled forest nymph had come to lead him deeper amongst trees of lust. He would follow willingly. Her breasts shook gently, goosebumps forming along the slopes in the evening air, and her nipples were hard from the chill.
Her hips swayed with each step, framing a cropped patch of silver hair that shimmered with the light of the dying fire. She looked like Sex Herself come to take him, though her demeanor seemed to match that of a sleepy woman on her way to bed after a bath, both in casualness and in the way she stopped to stretch, yawning loudly as she cocked her hip to one side and raised her arms above her head.
“That felt amazing! You two should clean up so the tent doesn’t smell so bad,” Nessa suggested, wrinkling her nose. Unconcerned with Tristan and Annik’s surprised gawking, she walked past them to their shelter, dropping her armor by the entrance in a heap. “Night!”
Nessa fell onto her hands and knees, exposing her femininity as she wiggled into the tent. She disappeared from view, leaving the two stunned Aeolians staring after her as the fire crackled softly.
“Did that just happen?” Tristan finally asked, rubbing at his eyes then looking over at Annik.
She had a strange look on her face as she stared at the tent. Her cheeks were flushed, but she looked thoughtful as if working herself through a plan. Tristan was still too dazed by Nessa’s display to ruminate on anything other than burning the vision of the silver-haired siren into his memory.
“We need her,” Annik whispered, barely loud enough for Tristan to hear. Her eyes never wavered from the tent and she chewed at her lip. “You still have the Sliver, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
Annik never answered, but for the first time all day she looked content.
Chapter Six
Tristan grunted, his body steaming in the crisp mountain air as sweat dripped down his torso. He circled to the left, Annik matching him with a grin on her face.
“You’re getting better. Almost as good as a fresh recruit,” Annik taunted. “Not so fat now either.”
Tristan ignored the barbs, knowing by now she was trying to distract him.
Besides, she wasn’t wrong. For the first time in more than a year, the flexing of his muscles and tendons was visible beneath his skin. They kept a fast pace on Perran’s trail and Tristan’s normal diet of three parts alcohol had been replaced with dwindling trail rations and whatever game they could catch, but most of the change came from the fact that he’d actually been using his Bolstered abilities.
“You look half-decent now,” Annik continued. It wasn’t the first time she’d complimented his emerging muscles. Nessa had taken to staring at him and running her hands along his triceps and pecs before letting him bed down for the night. Annik hadn’t gone that far, but he’d caught her admiring gaze more than once.
Annik feinted to the right then came in low, but Tristan had seen her eyes and swept her arms away as he stepped aside. He shoved her hard on the back, spinning to follow as she stumbled and tried to keep her balance.
He was on her in a flash, his legs and arms locking around her in an immobilizing hold. They went down in a tumble of sweat and curses, each scrambling desperately for position. His grip on her leg wasn’t the best, but he didn’t dare reposition for fear of her taking advantage. Her left arm was pinned, but she’d managed to keep her right free through a twisting move Tristan would have to get her to demonstrate later. The two panted and sent gouts of steam into the air as they struggled.
“How
do you two have the energy for this?” Nessa chimed in from the sidelines where she sat wrapped in a thick coat nibbling on the remains of her dinner. Tristan glanced at her, then cursed as Annik used the momentary distraction to twist in his grip, freeing her left arm. He still had the advantage, but only barely. “I’m so tired I’d almost rather sleep than eat!”
“We’re Bolstered,” Annik grunted, slamming an elbow back and catching Tristan in the cheek. He absorbed the blow and huddled down to use her body as a shield. He dragged an arm up her torso towards her neck, intent on finally forcing her to yield. Her shirt rose with his arm, her hot skin slick with sweat as he struggled to keep his hold. Annik’s head twisted, a glint in her eye. “We’re playing that game?”
Her grip on his arm eased just enough for her breast to slide into Tristan’s palm. Despite his surprise and uncertainty, he kneaded the soft mound and recalled the playful games of Corp recruits. Being a Bolstered recruit was a strange time for men and women as their lives were upended at the same time their bodies underwent massive transformations.
The Bolstered were the peak of human physical performance, and with the right training they could achieve enough control over their bodies to heal grievous injuries, resist deadly toxins, and reach levels of strength akin to a wild beast. Even an average Bolstered could run longer, jump higher, and endure better than the best a non-Bolstered could ever hope to muster.
The stress of these changes and the pressure of the Corp demanded relief. And what happens when dozens of young men and women are crammed together, isolated with one another at the pinnacle of athleticism and physical perfection? They find outlets for relief, chief among them exploring their newfound stamina in ways not officially sanctioned by the Corp but certainly encouraged as tradition.
Tristan sprung to attention as Annik started to grind her butt against him. He smiled and ground right back, his grip easing as his fingers quested for her nipple.
“I never had a chance to play this with you,” Annik hissed, bucking and trying to get her knees under her while he clung to her. Tristan pulled her legs back with his, sending them crashing to the ground again.
“Easier to pay a whore,” Tristan grunted.
“Not as fun, though.”
“The end result is the same.”
Annik laughed at that, then pushed against the ground with such force she launched herself and Tristan feet into the air. Midair, she slapped the ground, sending them spinning. Tristan held his grip, clenching his muscles as they crashed to the earth with her on top but still in his clutches.
“You really think fucking me would be the same as one of those girls? I would eat you alive!”
“I’ll be giving you something filling soon enough,” Tristan promised, tightening his grip on Annik’s breast. He pinched, and Annik’s body shuddered in his grasp.
Tristan needed this, he realized. His self-destructive bender and voyage meant it had been ages since he’d had sex. Nessa’s presence certainly didn’t help. Since entering the high passes of the mountains, she had taken to wearing a thick cloak that regrettably covered her lithe body, but she still slept naked, wedged happily between Annik and Tristan. Her casual displays of nudity as they prepared for bed had grown in length and daring and always left him staring helplessly in the dark trying to go to sleep.
Tristan’s erection pressed hard into Annik’s shapely rear, and she rocked encouragingly against him.
“Promises, promises,” Annik teased, her voice low and breathy with need. He looked past her shoulder where he’d pushed her shirt up in during their wrestling. Her nipples stood proudly, even the one he hadn’t been playing with. He groaned at the view of her heaving chest, a noise echoed by Nessa at the edge of the ring they’d cleared.
Tristan’s eyes darted to the side. Nessa sat hunched over, her eyes glazed as she watched. The cloak was wrapped tight, but Tristan swore he saw the tell-tale motion of Nessa’s arm at work on herself. He gawked at Nessa’s flushed face, relaxing just enough for Annik to squirm away.
In a flash, Annik sat astride him grinding gently onto his face and pinning one arm above his head. She locked her legs around him in a position he wouldn’t mind if she hadn’t been wearing a rough pair of trousers and wasn’t squeezing his neck so tight. His eyes bulged as she leaned forward to pull his arm to the point he could feel his shoulder dislocating.
“Yield!” he gasped beneath her, slapping the ground with his free arm. She released him immediately pushing herself up and laughing in delight. Her muscular torso glistened in the firelight, her full pair of breasts shaking as she celebrated her victory. It was a view worth losing for.
“Better, but you’re still too distractible,” Annik taunted. She leaned back and pressed harder against his face to muffle any response. Tristan groaned as he felt fingers lightly dancing over the bulge in his pants.
Maybe losing wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t just the men of the Corp that took their pleasure after a conquest in the ring. Annik certainly seemed intent on having some fun and it had been as long for her as it had for him. Unless she’d snuck off with a sailor during the voyage. Tristan frowned at the thought and pushed it away.
Annik wasn’t his and he’d never thought of himself as the jealous type before.
Annik swung her body around, quickly planting her ass back on his face. He sighed as Annik’s fingers wrapped around him, his hips thrusting upwards with need. She had a firm touch and confidently brought her other hand to work on the laces that contained him. Tristan sprang free and Annik’s warm hands teased his bare skin. If he’d won, he wouldn’t have settled for a hand, but he wasn’t about to complain.
He grunted, his breath coming faster as release approached, then suddenly Annik’s hand vanished and she pushed herself off him, laughing in amusement at his frustration.
“What was that?” Tristan yelled in frustration, rising to a sitting position to glare at Annik. She was doubled over in laughter, her eyes more alive than he’d ever seen them. “That’s your idea of victory rights?”
“If you don’t like it, just win next time,” Annik giggled, her breasts bouncing delightfully. She hadn’t bothered to pull her top down and just raised an eyebrow as he drank her in. Her lips were parted, and she kept darting her eyes down to take in the aroused state she’d left him in.
“That’s it? Just win?” Already an ache spread into Tristan’s lower abdomen.
“Consider it motivation!” Annik winked at him, then pulled her shirt back into place as she went to eat her meal.
Tristan gawked in disbelief until he saw Nessa staring at him, and not at his eyes. It was her turn to pant out plumes of hot breath. Her violet eyes simmered with lust, her lower lip caught in her teeth as she focused on his exposure. Nessa showed as little shame in admiring his manhood as she did getting ready for bed at night.
You’re welcome, Annik mouthed when he looked her way. Tristan didn’t mistake the message. Annik wanted him to take their companion.
They needed Nessa’s help, a point Annik brought up with increasing frequency. Neither Annik nor Nessa had directly broached a binding contract since the first day together, but Annik had dropped hints that Tristan should do his duty to guarantee the success of their mission. Eyeing their silver-haired guide, Tristan decided this was a duty he was willing to fulfill.
He stood, proudly displaying his erection as he brushed the dirt from his pants. He took his time putting himself back together as he enjoyed Nessa’s attention. She watched raptly, her eyes drinking in his form. He hadn’t had a woman look at anything but his wallet like that in years. He felt proud and wanted, both notions that even a month ago would have seemed impossible.
As he tucked himself away, Annik’s face flared with disappointment. Feeling cocky from Nessa’s adoration, Tristan brought a blush to Annik’s face with a wink and a raised eyebrow of invitation. She quickly looked away, but Tristan basked in the knowledge that Annik’s teasing hadn’t just been to leave him worked up for
Nessa.
He pulled his shirt on and in the brief moment where it obscured his vision, Nessa vanished into the tent.
Tristan gingerly lowered himself down next to Annik as the reality of who and where he was settled back onto him. He might be improving, but he was still just a few weeks removed from nearly drinking himself into captivity. The strange confidence that filled him fled, but rather than despair he was left with grim determination. He wanted that feeling of pride back. After years of wanting nothing, even this small desire to feel proud seemed a victory.
He focused and let his Bolstered energy flow into the bruises that Annik had inflicted on him, though he resisted the urge to ease the ache of his pent-up need. Tristan wanted to remember this bit of discomfort as motivation for the future.
“Comfortable?” Annik teased, as Tristan spread his legs and adjusted himself. Tristan grunted and glared. “You used to be better than me.”
“I’m still better than you,” Tristan answered before ripping off a piece of jerky and popping it into his mouth.
“Then beat me and claim your prize,” Annik whispered, her tone pleading and wide and hopeful. Tristan choked and coughed, Annik laughing as she pounded on his back.
“You’re going to kill me.”
“I’m not, but you were certainly trying your damnedest,” Annik said, her tone cooling. “You were well on your way to drinking yourself to death.”
Tristan stayed silent, chewing the cured meat until Annik spoke again.
“Try living again,” Annik suggested, standing and looking down at him.
“I’m not sure I know how anymore.” Tristan’s unbridled honesty felt both relieving and terrible.
“You can start with her.” Annik jerked her head towards the tent and Nessa. “She asked me this morning if you preferred men, and I had to tell her I didn’t know.”