23
GATHREN TURNED ON her side and looked at him.
His eyes were closed, and he was nude and his cock was growing soft, glistening with the juices from inside her body, and she felt a tendril of possession.
Mine.
She let out a long, low breath. “You have sorted me out, my lord.”
His eyes opened in slits. “Have I, then?”
“I think so,” she said. “When you do that to me here, you make things wake up in me…” She shut her eyes and moaned. “I should like it, I think, if you’d do all of that to my breasts and then fuck me for longer.”
“Oh, certainly, except that’s impossible.”
She laughed. “Oh?”
“Maybe…” He turned to look at her. “Maybe if I’d had one release already? Because the problem is that having my mouth on you there makes me so aroused.”
She laughed. “Well, it’s sort of perfect, then.” She lay back on the bed. “You’re perfect.”
“No, you are,” he said.
“I love you,” she told the ceiling of the inn.
“Do you, though?”
“I’m sorry that I—”
“Sorry, that was an awful response, Gathren. I love you, too.” He sat up and looked down at her. He bit down on his bottom lip, making a noise.
“What?” she said.
“No, your… my seed is all over your breasts, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and…” He met her gaze. “How about now? Can I try this fucking you longer business now?”
“Oh, can you do that?” She flicked her gaze down between his legs to see that he was stiff again. “Well, then. Yes, please.”
He parted her thighs and pressed into her, and she moaned, because she was sensitive and it felt good. He spread his sticky release all over her breasts, rubbing it into her nipples, and she rippled against him, around him, and she realized that was very nice, and she did that again.
He grunted.
“You like that?” she breathed, clenching her walls on him.
“Fuck,” he gasped.
“So do I,” she muttered. “Someone could have told me about that, really. Why didn’t I think to do that?”
It was good.
He fucked her and she gripped him on and off, and he rubbed his come into her breasts, and then he suckled them anyway, and that made things inside her belly twitch.
She felt as if she tumbled in and out of heights of pleasure, plateaus that rose to crest against heights that felt deep and sweet and nearly ancient, and they traveled through her pelvis and twitched through her here and there, and they gasped against each other and kissed, and he said he loved her at least four more times and she said it back.
She felt as if she was tossed back and forth on the churning seas of goodness, and the sweetest part of it was that he was right there, and they were joined and she loved him.
At one point, though, he said, “I am getting very close and if you think that you… I don’t want to… can you?”
“Oh,” she said. “No, I don’t think so.” It was funny.
She’d stopped thinking about that, about a climax.
Some of the pleasure she’d felt while he was inside her had seemed sort of better than a climax…
not more pleasurable, not exactly, but deeper and sweeter in some unfathomable way, an ache that felt like joy, something that reverberated through her, all the way to her soul.
She thought of what Iahir had said about the emptiness of pleasure.
Perhaps there was something to that.
“Touch your clit, warrioress?”
Well, yes, that was a bit obvious, she supposed. She put her fingers there, but while he was inside her, it was just too much. She couldn’t find a thread of her pleasure, for that, and she ended up telling him to go ahead and finish.
So, he pulled out of her and slid himself against her belly and then slid up higher, between her breasts, and she giggled and he finished there, right there.
Then, she put her fingers back between her thighs. “Kiss me?” she breathed. “Rub your seed into my nipples?”
He did, and now it was easy, now it was quick, now she hit her peak right away. After, she apologized.
“Don’t apologize for coming, Gathren,” he said. “Never apologize for that.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do it while you were inside me,” she said.
“It was good,” he said. “That, between us, was good. You were not far away, not like last time.”
“I was not,” she said.
“I hardly think it matters when you come or how you do it,” he said. “Just that you do, that we please each other.”
“But it would be nice if I could, wouldn’t it?”
“It would be,” he said. “So, we have something to work towards.” He kissed her neck, just below her earlobe. “We will never do this again unless your breasts are bare, though. Agreed? They’re entirely necessary.”
She shut her eyes. “I’m glad you think so.”
They were sticky and naked, but truly exhausted, so they yawned into each other, and they twined up and they both fell asleep.
She liked the feeling of being close to him. She liked the feeling of his skin against hers. She liked the way she could hear his heart beating when she lay her head against his chest.
THEY WOKE LATER and their clothes were dry, but they were both a bit of a mess, so they got up to use the water basin to wash their skin.
This backfired, and they ended up with their hands and mouths on each other again. She sucked him. He finished in her mouth and then lay her back on the bed and put his mouth between her thighs, which he was really laughably bad at.
She giggled a lot, and he kept trying, and she really did not know what to tell him, because she had never applied a tongue to this part of her body, but she kept saying, “More gentle than that” and “Stop sticking your tongue inside me” and then “It’s just like you’re poking me.”
“Oh,” he said. “Maybe it should be more of a, erm, lapping?” Which he tried and it was better, and she did like it, but she couldn’t quite get there, and ended up making him just use his fingers, while she kissed the mouth he’d had between her thighs.
Maybe it was that, her smeared all over his face and the beginnings of his blond beard, that made her tip over into clenches of pleasure, because there was something decadent about that, about knowing he’d put his mouth on her there.
He said that he wished he’d been practicing this before meeting her, that he was really very sorry he was so terrible at it.
She said that she was probably very bad at using her mouth on him.
And he said, “Um, no, you are not.”
To which she giggled a lot. “I think male parts are more straightforward than female ones.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe most men are selfish the way I was. We expect women to care about our pleasure but we don’t care about theirs.”
“Well,” she said, “maybe if I had expected men to care about my pleasure, I would have insisted they please me more?”
They had to have food and drink delivered to their room because they could not go out into the rest of the inn, and the servant who delivered the food to the room saw Gathren and gave her such a look that Gathren felt acutely uncomfortable even being in the inn.
There was a knock on the door only about fifteen minutes later.
It was the innkeeper. “You’d best be out of here early tomorrow,” he told them. “I’ll not turn you out now, in the midst of the cold rain and the darkness, but there is unrest, and the servants are talking amongst themselves about serving an orc guest. They are not pleased.”
Iahir responded angrily, but she caught him by the arm and shook her head at him and told the innkeeper they would be on their way by first light.
After the innkeeper left, Iahir raged a little on his own, saying that he was paying good money and that the innkeeper should be able to keep his servants in line, and that there was no reason for anyone to treat her this way simply because she was an orc.
“Orcs have been treated like this for some time,” she said. “There’s no way that I could procure a room in an inn like this on my own, you know.”
“Well, being turned out early in the morning with the threat of violence if we do not? That is not normal. I don’t care what you say.”
“Perhaps not,” she said. “Perhaps that is because of the invasion.”
And then they were quiet again.
They finished their food, and they climbed into the bed together.
She would have thought that they might have just slept, because surely he was sated on her body by now, but his fingers sought her breasts under the blankets, and he pressed into her from behind and kissed the back of her neck and teased her nipples stiff.
She writhed against him and turned her face to capture his lips.
They ended up with his cock inside her from that angle, both lying on their sides, rocking gently against each other, and she liked this very, very much, because it meant she could squeeze her legs together and this seemed to stimulate not just her clitoris, but all of the internal elements of her that seemed swollen and sensitive.
She thought that certainly, if she was ever going to have a climax with his cock inside her, it would be this way.
But. She didn’t.
Iahir said it was his fault for not being able to last, but she wasn’t sure if she wasn’t just too overstimulated with so much going on, that she couldn’t quite isolate her pleasure to find some way to concentrate on her climax.
It was odd, of course, because to have a climax, she needed to concentrate and also not concentrate at the same time.
At any rate, she finished herself off snug against him, with his hands on her breasts, and his chest pressed into her back and her backside nestled against his crotch. Then she fell asleep, sated and happy.
THEY HAD BEEN warned by the innkeeper, so Iahir supposed they shouldn’t have been surprised, but they were.
He wasn’t particularly frightened of the servants who barged into their room with knives and swords and neither was Gathren.
For one thing, the servants didn’t actually attempt to use the weapons, just stood around their bed in a ring, waving them around and hurling insults at Gathren, calling her underhanded and manipulative, just like an orc, and claiming that it was indecent that she be under this roof.
He wasn’t frightened, but he was annoyed, because they were naked.
He supposed he didn’t much mind getting out of bed and showing everyone his cock while he got his sword and taught these very rude servants a lesson, but he didn’t want anyone to see Gathren’s breasts, which felt as if they were some hidden mystery that only he had been privileged to uncover, and he was not keen on anyone else seeing them.
But it didn’t matter because they were both up, out of the bed, both getting weapons and —when the servants saw they were unclothed, half of them ran out of the room, apparently too embarrassed to make a stand against naked people—or maybe they were frightened, because they could see that the way that he and Gathren used weapons meant they were trained.
That left only five or six of them. He crossed swords with one of them, immediately disarmed him, and the coward ran before he could wound him.
Gathren seemed to have disarmed two of them, but the others were all just staring at her bare bosom—damn everything—and then they left, too.
He shut the door behind them.
She tossed strands of her hair that had escaped her braid out of her face.
“Well,” he said. “Time to go.”