Arda: The Captain's Fancy

by Annie Windsor

  Beside the women, the Tul’Mar brothers gazed at their mates and stroked their own staffs, groaning almost in rhythm with the pleasure of their shannas.

  Krysta tensed and gasped, and Darkyn felt the build of her first orgasm. His eyes fixed on her face now, on the closed, fluttering lids, the half-open mouth, sometimes brushed by kisses from the women pleasuring her.

  She was so beautiful.

  So beautiful, he said in his mind, directing the thought to Krysta, who received it with a new gasp and a shiver of joy.

  You are close, hallas. Darkyn felt his own feral smile and squeezed his cock harder to keep his control. Lips on your lips and neck, fingers pinching your nipples to aching points, that fine, graceful hand in your quim, dipping in and out of your wet center, pulling back to rub your clit over and over. Harder and harder.

  Krysta moaned low and long, thrusting her breasts into Georgia’s firm grip, bucking against Elise’s fast-moving fingers.

  “Yes, hallas,” he said aloud. “Come while I watch. Come screaming, and I’ll make you scream again and again.”

  At this, Elise and Georgia shuddered with Krysta, both groaning. Georgia pinched Krysta’s nipples harder. Elise stroked Krysta’s clit faster.

  Krysta came then, just as Darkyn instructed, with a low, satisfying scream.

  She sank down between Elise and Georgia, her heavy-lidded gaze fixed on him.

  Fari moved in almost immediately, spreading himself on the silvery floor in front of Krysta. Georgia straddled him. The sound of his prick sinking home in the woman’s wet sanctuary made Darkyn ache to stride past him, push Krysta up against the wall of the bubble, and do the same.

  Instead, he remembered his earlier lessons.

  Fari and Georgia were strongest while fucking. Ki and Elise were strongest while satiated. He and Krysta—they were strongest while frustrated.

  So we will keep our strength at its height a bit longer. As long as we can. Win or die. I should think this is the sweetest form of combat.

  “Have you been fucked by two men?” he asked Georgia, who rocked back and forth, taking her sha’s prick as deep as it would go.

  She nodded and leaned forward, exposing her ass to Ki.

  With a nudge from Elise, and a rumble of pleasure, Ki moved forward. Elise stopped him long enough to moisten his staff with her full, tempting mouth, then smiled as he knelt between his brother’s legs and entered Georgia’s ass with a firm smack of wet flesh and bollocks.

  Georgia moaned, as did Fari, who was feeling the rush of her increased pleasure.

  Krysta inched up on the bubble’s far wall to better see Georgia in front of her. She seemed doubly aroused by Georgia’s frenetic state. The redheaded beauty had her eyes closed, her arms braced against her husband’s side. Leaned forward as she was, she was at Ki’s mercy, and Fari, in turn, was at the mercy of Georgia’s movement. Each time Ki slammed into Georgia’s ass, she moved forward, partly unsheathing Fari’s prick, then slamming back to take it deeper. Her breasts bounced and rubbed over Fari’s pa, literally sending out sparks.

  Krysta let out her own noise of pleasure, pinched her pa-coated nipple, and moved her free hand to stroke her own clit.

  Wait!

  She stopped at Darkyn’s sharp command.

  Elise moved over to Darkyn, stretched up on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. Her hand drifted down his pa to the stone in his chest, and he felt a surge as she touched it.

  “Thank you for saving my life and my baby’s life.” She palmed his cock then cupped his balls, gently stroking and squeezing as he watched Georgia’s hard fucking and beyond that, the increasing, explosive desire of his reclining shanna.

  Gods, but this was sweet.

  “You are more than welcome,” he answered, but stopped her from pumping his cock. It felt wonderful, but it wasn’t time.

  No. Not yet.

  “Go to Georgia,” he told Elise. “Increase her pleasure.”

  Elise eyed him for a moment, then grinned and nodded. She moved over to the trio, knelt at Georgia’s side, and kissed Ki as he pistoned in and out of Georgia’s ass, then reached down to fondle his bollocks. This drove Ki to new heights, and he moved into Georgia even harder and faster.

  With her free hand, Elise reached around Georgia’s waist and easily found her clit.

  Georgia screamed and came instantly, shuddering and jerking, but the Tul’Mar brothers held back, slowing their rhythm, then once more picking it up as Elise massaged Georgia’s clit.

  Behind them against the bubble wall, Krysta made fists and beat them against the unyielding surface.

  “Georgia,” Darkyn asked in low tones. “Have you ever been fucked by three men?”

  At this, Georgia groaned incoherently, and Darkyn had his answer.

  He could bring something to this circle, then, and he would.

  Barung be damned. We will kill him, or we will enjoy the last moments of life like no people before us.

  Keeping his eyes on his hallas, he strode forward, positioned himself in front of Georgia, and took her by the hair. She lifted her head, eyes glazed with pleasure, mouth wide for the task. Languid excitement was etched on every feature of her face.

  When next Ki rammed into Georgia’s ass, Darkyn thrust his cock into her mouth. Warm and wet and welcoming as he knew it would be—but his pleasure came from Krysta’s throaty moans. Her nipples made peaks with no stimulation but what her eyes could give her, and the outflow of sexual energy rippling through the pa around them.

  Darkyn could see her clit from his vantage point, it was so swollen. He had to grin, which caused Krysta to have violent, passionate thoughts.

  Like Fari, Darkyn was a captive to the rhythm dictated by Ki—and Ki played his role masterfully, speeding up, slowing down, bringing them all to the edge repeatedly.

  Georgia shuddered from orgasm after orgasm.

  Ki finally thrust his fingers into his shanna’s quim, and brought both women to orgasm at the same time he allowed Fari and Darkyn to come.

  Darkyn gave no thought to pulling out. He knew Georgia wanted to swallow his essence this once, and he knew it would bring Krysta to the brink.

  As Georgia collapsed forward, Ki pulled out of her ass, leaving her, for a time, to Fari’s embrace. The Sailmaster turned his attention to cleansing his staff by rubbing it against the pa on his mate’s hips. The air sizzled and crackled as the silver fire flowed to gently burn him clean—and then he pulled Elise down and mounted her, driving into her as if he had not just led them all in a prolonged session of pleasure.

  Darkyn understood.

  The lure of a soul’s mate made everything else pale in comparison. These family joinings—they were but foreplay for the real thing. Planting one’s cock deep inside your shanna’s tight, drenched quim.

  Darkyn moved between Ki and Fari and their mates, approaching his own.

  He knelt between her legs, erection already at full strength again from just the sight of her beauty, from the barest whiff of her woman’s scent.

  Krysta lay against the side of the bubble, gazing at him with both murder and adoration in her eyes.

  “I love you,” she said. “Fuck me.”

  But she wasn’t begging.

  Darkyn loved that about her. Her strength, her command. Yet he knew—and he knew she knew—who held the power when it came to pleasure.

  “I love you, too.” He leaned down and bit one nipple, then the other. “Now spread your legs wider.”

  Krysta cried out and convulsed from just that contact, but she spread her legs wider.

  Darkyn reveled in the feel of her soft, wet quim against his hard cock as he kissed her mouth. Her pa-coated bush made his staff tingle all the more as he pressed it into her folds, using the hard flesh to rub her swollen clit, letting the head barely enter her waiting center, then pulling it back as he once more bit her nipples.

  Around them, the sounds of lovemaking intensified.

  Krysta screamed in need and frustration
, pulling his hair as he kissed her and continued to tease her quim with his cock.

  “As I promised,” he whispered against her ear, enjoying the snap of pa against his wet lips. “I’ll make you scream again and again.”

  Below them, the Barung’s struggles became louder, more desperate, but he seemed an eon removed. This was the way to kill the bastard. Yes. With their love, their sexual energies, their strengths.

  Krysta thought she might die if Darkyn didn’t give her relief soon. She didn’t want his fingers or his mouth, though both were quite skilled and driving her near to distraction as they danced over her nipples, her lips, her ears, and now and again her clit.

  What she wanted was his cock.

  Damn him!

  He kept laying his erection against her, rubbing it up and down between her wet lips.

  She came twice, little orgasms. Little tortures.

  “What do you want, hallas?” he whispered. He rubbed his lips across her new feather pa mark, then sucked her coated nipple so rapidly, so deeply that she came again, this time shuddering as her clit rubbed against his erection.

  Little tortures!

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  Wrong answer, apparently.

  Darkyn sucked her other nipple, pulling back just as she almost came again.

  She pounded on his chest with both fists as he lifted up.

  “I want your cock,” she tried. “I want you to fuck me. Please!”

  Also, clearly the wrong answer.

  He rocked back, stroking his own shaft, yellow eyes penetrating straight to her soul.

  “What do you really want, Krysta?”

  Somewhere behind him, Georgia came with moaning fury, followed by Elise, but the sounds of wild lovemaking never stopped.

  It was lovemaking now. Beyond recreation or simple pleasure. Beyond joining, even. Soul’s mates were blending with each other, enjoying pleasures for what might be the last time.

  Krysta blinked, then understood.

  She felt herself smiling as she lifted her own legs, giving Darkyn a deeper entry when he chose to take it.

  Gazing directly into his unsettling, fiery stare, Krysta yelled, “I want my turn!”

  Right answer.

  Darkyn leaned over her, bracing his arms beside her head, holding her still to look at while he drove his cock deep, deep into her aching, pulsing center.

  Krysta felt her inner walls clench around him, felt him bury himself bollocks-deep, pull almost completely out, then bury himself again.

  She felt like she couldn’t get enough. Like she’d never have enough. Not now, not this day, not ever.

  Her own moans of pleasure were all she heard, mingled with Darkyn’s groans and the wet, slippery sounds of their complete joining. Their mingling of essence.

  Krysta’s nipples burned. Her lips throbbed as her sha, her munas kissed her deeply, all the while fucking her harder, faster, going deep then shallow—anything to increase her pleasure. Anything to make her scream.

  As the heat built and built in her body, she did scream, repeatedly. The force of her orgasm felt like a lightning storm, striking every inch of her flesh. She rolled her hips yet higher, feeling Darkyn’s jets of seed stream into her as he joined her, coming with a deep roar of male elation.

  Before her body could even settle from that pleasure, new pleasures began. Elise and Georgia were suddenly there, sucking her nipples as Darkyn took her again.

  Krysta plunged her fingers into their wet channels, delighting in the hot, silky feel, in knowing they took pleasure from her pleasure.

  At one point, Krysta was certain her brothers had entered their shannas from behind, that they were all joined as one, sharing pleasure and energy in ways her mind scarcely understood.

  All the while, she could see the eyes of her munas, her made of stone lover, eating her whole as he claimed her again and again, giving her all that he could give her.

  She loved this man. Gods, how she loved him!

  The orgasm that claimed her then was shared amongst six minds, multiplied twice over, then twice over again. The rush of energy was impossible to measure. Impossible to fathom. It rocked her body, making her wonder if she had become a shower of sparks, an explosion of stars lighting dark and faraway space.

  In that instant of complete fulfillment, her expanded senses told her the moment of truth had arrived. Barung had taken such damage from their pleasure that he was desperate. He was massing his remaining strength for the last attack, live or die, crush or be crushed.

  Krysta didn’t want to surrender the moment, but the six knew the moment had passed.

  As they got to their feet, trembling from exhaustion and joy muted only by the chance it was about to end, Krysta knew she had at least, indeed, had her turn.

  Darkyn held her in his arms, flanked by Elise and Georgia, who held their mates just as firmly.

  All of them looked down through the pyramid, at the black mass almost out of sight but rising quickly.

  Here he comes, Krysta had time to say before space and life as she knew it exploded into pain and screams that had nothing to do with pleasure.

  A fireball rushed at them all, despite their frantic joined efforts to thrust it back.

  Krysta barely saw it strike the bubble, knocking Ki and Fari to the silvery floor. Only the women remained standing. The women and her munas.

  And then Darkyn was between them and the fireball. He was throwing the women out of harm’s way, Krysta included.

  And then he was engulfed.

  Krysta’s heart was engulfed with him. All of her senses seared. Her being screamed a denial.

  The pa around them sucked inward, to her, to her alone.

  An explosion took her full awareness, shattered it completely.

  She had only a sense of drifting left.

  A sense of endless drifting.

  Chapter 16

  The day Darkyn Weil woke, he knew he was not on Arda, nor Uhr, nor any world he had seen before, even in vision.

  He reached up, touched the yellow stone in his chest, and felt a reassuring vibration.

  Not dead, then.

  His axe was missing from his hip, but oddly, he didn’t mind. His memories swirled and clashed, whispering of weapons far greater than those of the hand. He knew he was still a warrior, still a leader, but he also knew the meanings of both stations had changed for him, forever.

  How, he couldn’t yet say.

  As awareness returned in full, Darkyn realized he lay on a bed of soft moss, so soft it might have been made from the finest trading silks. Golden leaves spilled from his body as he moved, and they, too, were softer than soft when he touched them.

  As he sat up, he saw that his bed sloped down in a sculpted arc, coming to rest in verdant grass that had to be as silky as the moss. A single yellow orb hovered in the blue sky above him, bathing his skin with a softer, less intense warmth than he was accustomed to from big sun and little sister. All around this strange bed were tall trees with brownish-red bark and massive branches, lifting score upon score of golden leaves toward their yellow sun.

  Occasionally, they rustled in a slight breeze, showing a glittery underside that reminded Darkyn of a gold version of pa.

  Pa…

  He glanced down at himself, trying to accept that he was alive, that his body remained attached to his mind. He saw that he was clad only in breeches, that his feet and chest were bare, and in places, slightly reddened.

  He remembered throwing the women clear of the fireball, shielding them from the flames…

  When he tried to stand, Darkyn felt a tightness in his back and knew he had scars from that decision. Many scars. He touched his head to find only bristles of newly-growing hair.

  As he lowered his hand, he couldn’t help but stare at his own flesh.

  It was…silver.

  Not in the crackling, sparkling fashion of pa, but yet silver and…flowing like pa.

  My body has become like Krysta’s hair,
coated and fused, maintaining its true form and color, yet to the eye, silver-white and shining. My stone remains, yellow as always, and yet I know it’s stronger. I could touch it and shake the foundations of a stone building, I think.

  “Krysta,” he said aloud, feeling the tears in his dry throat even as he called.

  “Be at ease,” said a voice from in front of him.

  Darkyn squinted in the odd yellow sunlight to find a man standing at the edge of the sculpted mound holding his bed of moss.

  “Yes,” the man said. “Afternoon sun is bright here, even by your standards, only not as hot.”

  This man—he had black-black hair streaked with white. On Arda, he would be perhaps several hundred stellar years of age. Darkyn had the distinct sense this man was much, much older than a few hundred stellar years.

  Questions swirled through his mind, but the only one of import was the first to his lips. “Where is Krysta? Where is my shanna?”

  “Waiting for you in the House of Wisdom.” The young-old man’s voice carried an unmistakably light, amused note.

  Darkyn had a sense of weights lifting from his chest. “She lives, then? She is healthy? Is she—?”

  “Be at ease,” the young-old man instructed again, this time with some sort of subtle binding in his voice. “Do not force me to send you back into trance. You have been sleeping long enough.”

  Darkyn found he couldn’t speak, even if he wanted to. The man’s command was like a spell, compelling him to silence until the fellow chose to lift it.

  Slowly, cautiously, the man climbed the swell of the hill. Darkyn saw that he wore robes of sapphire, gold, white, and red, wound together in a way his brain had trouble perceiving. He looked like he might be Kaeradi, but Darkyn noted the absence of gloves.

  “We do not wear gloves on Kaerad,” the man said, making no pretensions about reading Darkyn’s thoughts even though Darkyn hadn’t sensed him doing so. “There are other protections here. You and I, we’re kin enough that I could touch you without penalty, I think. Let us find out.”