Return of the Lost

Annyell started half out from under the smooth sheets, the coolness of the silk stark against the heat of the arms suddenly around her. She drew in a breath to scream, but let it out in shudders when, “It is only I”, was breathed just over her left ear. Annyell did not scream, but she did not relax. The arms released her and a form moved to stand in the window, backlit by the moon.

Sleek as a jaguar, Terime stood just inside the window frame, his posture bearing a touch of insolence even now. The paleness of his eyes made the green nearly clear, but they were fierce. Hands moving slowly, he removed his equipment, starting with his weapons. His fingers made no sound as they brushed the leather of his pants, or when they reached beneath his shirt. He moved especially slowly when taking the dagger kept hanging between his shoulders from its sheath.

All the while, Annyell sat half-upright in the bed, wings twitching some with nervous indecision.

Softly, Terime said, “You summoned me into your dreams again, my lady?”

Annyell nodded. “Yes, I did.” When she didn’t speak thereafter, Terime reached down to the pile of belongings on the floor and drew out a delicate hand harp.

“Then, if you are willing, I will color this dream of yours with song. If some other delight would stir you more, please tell me.” At that, he closed the gauze curtains around her bed and curled his frame along the shape of the window ledge. He began to play, singing softly at the same time. As he sang of the Land of the Four Lakes in its days before the War of the Gods, Annyell laid back to watch and listen.

After three songs, she burst out from behind the curtains, but stopped before she reached the window and the assassin sitting on it.

“Yes, lady?” A smile flickered above his face but did not land. “Is there something that you wanted of me? Does my music offend?” Annyell was bright red; when her mouth opened, no words came out. “If you would rather, I can take my harp and leave you to a more pleasing dream.” He began to uncurl.

“No!” Having protested, the words failed her again.

“Rest easy, lady. I will not go until you have done with me.” Terime’s voice was soft but huskier than usual, and his eyes shivered all along her body. “Seat yourself, and I will tend to you.”

Annyell lowered herself to sit on the bench at the foot of her bed, hardwood with an embroidered cushion. “I...”, she paused to breathe more slowly, her voice having risen with the nervous pace of her heart, “I thought you had died. You haven’t come for months, and...”

Terime moved to stand in front of her, dropping the harp carelessly atop his other belongings on the way. “And...?” He reached out his right hand, fingers almost entirely extended, toward her face. Perhaps so much as an inch remained between them.

“And...I missed you. I shouldn’t, but I do—did!” The flush that had started to wane returned to the winged elf’s face, and she turned her head away.

“Close your eyes, Annyell.” It was the first time he had said her name. It was always “my lady”, “merciful one”, “priestess”, or simply “lady”. It could have been the shock of that which persuaded her to obey his command.

Terime spent a moment looking at the lines her eyelashes cut across her delicate skin, then moved without sound to the foot of the mattress. She sat facing away from him, her iridescent wings pushing the gauze of the curtains aside. Annyell did not move as he brushed the curtains away. She did gasp as his fingers reached around and brushed her right cheek, so softly. Her eyes shot open, but he whispered, “Easy, easy. You may stop me with a word. Or you may grant me the things hope of which has kept me sane these past months of healing. Have mercy, beautiful one.”

A moment passed before, chest rising and falling rapidly, Annyell closed her eyes again. Terime returned his fingers to her skin, but this time moved her hair aside with one hand to trace the line of her throat with the other. The side of one finger started just behind the top of her right ear and trailed down to her collarbone. The pulse of her fear was clear through his fingertips. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, then breathed from just behind her, “Trembling like the rarest of butterflies...Oh, priestess, I promise that I will bring you nothing but pleasure this night. Still, this trembling is gratifying. I have hoped to be the first to touch you like this. Alone, in the night of your dreaming, and while you are so vulnerable and trusting. Your trust is my star.”

As he spoke, his fingers ran along the edges of her wings. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she sat up slightly straighter. When one hand ran its fingers from under her chin back around and down her neck, she exhaled deeply and relaxed her back a little. The slightest moan was audible when Terime’s hands covered her shoulders. He smiled at that.

His hands ran, no, slowly walked, down her arms, spreading their warmth along her skin. When he came to her hands, he cradled them in his, closed his eyes, and took a long moment to complete his next breath. Annyell leaned toward him, and he moved from kneeling to sitting down, his boots resting to either side of her on the bench, the rest of him still on the bed.

When her weight rested against him, Terime let out a sigh, his back and legs relaxing a fraction. Placing her hands to either side of his boots, he began to explore. Her legs were just far enough to either side of her that they did not touch, and her body rested on his chest alone. Brushing her hair aside, the assassin laid his face against the side of her neck. “Is this so terrible, priestess? Not a touch that could stain your honor, and such a boon to your poor slave.”

Annyell’s breath was shallow, but she managed to whisper a reply. “My slave?”

“Indeed, sweet one. Ask, and I will obey. Command, and I will leap to fulfill your every whim.”

Annyell’s eyes came open, her lids settling halfway down, and she smiled. “Then continue. I’ll tell you when to stop. I deserve some relief for my worrying, don’t I?”

“Annyell, you deserve anything you can command me to bring you. I will guard treasures you amass, slay the monsters that threaten you, protect your friends, or simply do this...” At that, he laid his lips softly against the back of her neck, pulling her more tightly to him. His arms only held her shoulders, but she followed willingly.

“Yes...” she mouthed, no sound escaping.

“Or perhaps this...” Terime replaced his lips with teeth, the woman melting into him with a moan. A smile was definitely present now, akin to the type a cat wears in the presence of its prey. He grabbed her firmly by the waist, his hands burning the skin her exotic garments left bare. The moan that answered him was clearly audible now. “Did you like that, priestess?” She did not answer. “Did it please you?”

“Yes.” His hands did not move. “Yes, it pleased me. You pleased me.”

“Good.” His hands moved. She whimpered low in her throat, flushed. “Close your eyes. It won’t be for long.” The priestess complied.

Using the speed and strength of a body trained for an age, he grabbed her again with no warning. She landed on her back, arms out and knees bent. Eyes open as well, looking in shock at the man kneeling to face her at the end of the bed. He was smiling.

“Have faith, my priestess. I want to see you, but first I will show you me. Unless you would stop here?” His tone held mockery, but his hands did not unbutton his shirt, body immobile in waiting for her response.

“No.” Her voice cracked at the first attempt, but she repeated it, “No.”

“No, you want to stop, or no you want me to remove my shirt?” There was definite mockery there, but his eyes were no less hungry than hers.

“Take it off.” Annyell’s quiet voice was almost a growl, and she sat half-upright before Terime’s hand pushed her back.

“No.” His voice was authoritative, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

“I thought you were my slave,” she said when she opened them again. Her attention was riveted on his fingers, unbuttoning his shirt with patient care.

“I am. But you want me to do things this way. You spend all day commanding your party, most nights worrying if you are doing a good enough job to keep them all alive. With me, you can let me command you. I am more than capable of taking care of myself, and you know that I will do anything you want.”

“Mmm...” was the response she managed, watching the silk shirt slide away from his torso to reveal taut muscle and smooth, delicate-looking elvish skin. Terime looked away briefly, “I hope, my lady, that I am not so far a disappointment to the eye.”

“Oh, no!” Her voice leapt out before she thought, and the priestess turned deep red. He smiled, then said, “Your turn.” When she turned a confused eye to him, he replied, “Garment for garment, my beautiful one.” He caressed her face, leaning forward to run a finger from her forehead down over her nose and across her lips. Her lips parted slightly. “Unless you would let me remove it for you?” His voice deepened. “I would be honored.”

Silent with anticipation, she nodded. Their eyes stayed focused on each other as he moved to kneel directly between her legs. His hands came to rest lightly on her stomach, making her gasp and arch her back slightly. They skimmed out to her sides and roamed to her throat. He smiled as he teased the hollow of her throat. She whimpered, and a look near to pain crossed his face. She started, but he soothed her. “Only my base nature asserting itself, merciful one. Do not distress yourself.”

Annyell smiled, in much the same predatory way that he had earlier, and said, “Do what you were thinking of.”

His eyes widened. “But—“

“Do it.” Her tone was as commanding as her voice was soft.

With a grimace, he nodded. “I will be sore tempted by the time you finish with me, I think.” He then leaned down and teased the hollow of her throat, not with his fingers, but with his tongue. Ever so lightly, pointing the tip, and breathing across her neck. Annyell moaned, back arching up almost to meet his body. When he felt that, he pulled away. “You mean to drive me mad, don’t you?” His lips were parted, and his eyes bright with lust.

“If you are my slave, you’ll go mad for me.” Annyell’s hands were tangled in the sheets.

“Gladly. But I think you need to remember that I’m not the only one who wants in this dream.” Terime leaned down and laid his tongue flat against a nipple, letting it soak through the silk of her halter. Her body jerked, but his other hand pushed her down, green eyes looking up at her steadily. His tongue did not move, but her nipple stiffened under it. She was frozen, but did not protest.

After not long, he lifted one hand behind her neck and untied the knot there. His hand moved under her neck, providing an excuse for the arch she was beginning to form, and untied that knot. On one sharp motion, he cast the cloth away and brought his tongue down on her skin. The contrast sent her arching into his mouth, but he pulled away. Wearing a slight pout, the priestess glared at him.

“Are you mad at me for taking liberties, or mad because I stopped?” She did not answer. Looking down at her half-naked body, his eyes went wide. “I’d never dared to expect to see you like this, Annyell. Are you truly displeased?”

When she looked into his eyes, hers softened and she shook her head. “I’ve just never felt these...surges before. I am so glad that you’re alright, and glad that you’re here.”

“Good. Good,” he repeated a moment later. “I am here for you. You helped me save myself, and you provided the drive to stave off death.” His fingers traced her breasts, and her hips rocked ever so slightly.

Then, he hopped to the floor. Eyebrows drawing together, Annyell turned on her side to look at him. His fingers untied the lacings of his boots, then his trousers. A few motions later, he was naked before her. The breeze blowing in teased the ends of his hair, brushing it against the bottom of his ribs. Annyell just stared for quite a while, then reached out a hand to him.

He stumbled closer, fell to one knee, and took the hand gently in his two. Head bowed over it, “I cannot...cannot resist you any longer.” Head lifted to stare into her eyes, “Will you let me love you? Not just your body, but your soul and your spirit and everything else I can find? I can’t bear the thought of touching you without you knowing the drive behind my touch.”

She lay, without speech, only a moment before he broke in again, “I am not so powerful as I was, but,” he paused, looking at her almost with desperation, “also not evil any longer. My former master took the powers that he granted back....” Annyell waited the minutes it took before he spoke again, “...when I renounced him. Renounced assassination, and evil, and hate. I can’t offer what I could have then, but I will be yours, am yours, if you will but accept me.” His offer made, he bowed his head over his knee, his hands forward, still holding one of hers.

Annyell hesitated perhaps a second, then turned his hands toward her and kissed the topmost. Terime jerked his head up to stare at her, eyes dilated and tear-filled. “You will?” She nodded, and he wept. Annyell pulled at him until he was stretched out beside her, and cradled him against her.

Tears spent, he pulled away after a time. “If I recall, we were in the midst of something.”

“Yes, Terime.” Annyell’s voice was very gentle, as were her eyes.

He leaned down across her body to take her left nipple in his mouth, leaving his hair to brush her body, its fine, dark ends both tickling and arousing. He laved the nipple until it stiffened, then switched breasts. When they were both hard, he resumed his kneeling position between her legs and took her breasts in his hands. Firmly, he massaged them, leaning down to suckle or nip every so often.

Annyell watched him, staring at his legs and between them when he was sitting upright, or at his muscular back when he was bent over to attend to her breasts.

He stopped abruptly, looked playfully up at her. “These,” he plucked at her gauze pants, “simply won’t do. May I?”

She bit her lower lip, smiled and nodded.

“However I wish?” She nodded again.

The former assassin tore them from her body, leaving only the opaque cloth covering her groin in place. With a moan, he ran his hands up and down her toned legs.

“For someone who can fly everywhere, you have very fit legs, priestess.” Too far gone in the pleasure to explain the social propriety of flying around those who can only walk, she just nodded.

He smoothed his hands over her flesh, avoiding the apex of her legs by several inches, causing Annyell to pout.

Finally, “Turn over.” She complied, if languidly. When she was settled on her stomach, he repeated his smoothing motions, this time up and down the backs of her legs. He took the time to lavish attention on her back and wings before abruptly ripping the last clothing from her. She lay now completely naked, flat on her stomach before him.

He moved to kneel beside her. Her legs came closed. Making scolding noises, he slapped her left thigh lightly. When affronted eyes turned to him, he grinned.

His fingers traced the inside of her thigh, up to where he’d stopped in front. Her eyes still on him, she started to frown when he continued and brushed against the hair there. Gasping, she dropped her head back down and spread her legs apart.

“Good, Annyell. Just tell me if you want me to stop. I am yours forever, but I’ll not force my way with you.”

She moaned and replied, “Shut up and touch me.” At that, he proceeded to tease her. He drew his fingers all around but never past the lips that guarded her. When she started to squirm, he turned her over and began from that side. Exposed to the cooler air, her nipples hardened again. Terime leaned down to draw one into his mouth briefly. At her questioning moan, he said, “I couldn’t resist.” Looking down her body, he moved his fingers along the crease of her sex. The lips were parted slightly, and wet from her desire for him.

His fingers played like that for a time before he ran one over the now-enlarged clitoris just inside. She let out a sharp gasp and started to writhe in earnest. Terime moved rapidly, placing himself between her legs and replacing that finger with his tongue. Wet and hot, hardened, it circled and massaged, wetting the outer lips and tasting every fold just past them. He suckled her clitoris, bringing a finger to just outside her opening, pressing down on the flesh at its bottom. She whimpered constantly now, only pausing in that to moan or gasp. Her hips were lifting from the bed to stab toward his mouth, but he controlled her motion with his other hand on one side of her waist.

In the middle of things, he suddenly stabbed his tongue inside her. She cried out, and shuddered beneath him. Smiling, he waited for her to recover before resuming. Fingers outside, tongue in, he brought her to climax several more times before he switched. His tongue back on her clit, one, then two and three fingers deep inside the tightness he’d been allowed to feel.

She pushed his head away at one point, pulled at him. He followed her desires and ended up laying back in the warmth she had made with her body. She knelt down the bed from him and stared at his body. Tentatively, she reached out toward his penis. He nodded, “It’s well, lover. Everything of me is yours to explore. Everything.” She looked at him for a long moment with soft eyes, and then touched the strange organ in front of her. Already somewhat hard, he solidified in moments at the touch of her dextrous fingers.

She played for a time, Terime slowing his breathing to allow her as much time as he could to play without his release interrupting her. His self-control was stretched near to the breaking point when she, all at once, dropped her head to lick the crown of his penis. He shuddered, and grabbed her shoulders to buy time to calm down. She knocked his hands aside, and licked the sides, then the whole like a child’s candy treat.

Terime breathed the way he was used to after a hard fight. “Annyell, if you don’t stop or at least slow down, I’m not going to last very long.” She answered by taking him into her mouth, inch by inch into warm wetness. When he was all the way in, he gasped and tried to push her off, but she would not go. Her moan of satisfaction was an echo of his as he came.

Terime took her by the hand when he was recovered, and pulled her up. “Dance with me?” She nodded, and he sang to her, this time not of his homeland, but a song he had composed for her. “My lady of mercy, my star in the darkness, brighter than the moon...” Annyell closed her eyes and danced in the style of his land with him.

The moonlight covered them as they came closer to the window. When they came to be centered by the frame, Terime stopped and leaned in to kiss Annyell. She met his lips softly. Starting with an aching tenderness, Terime’s kiss became more carnal as his hands roamed her naked body. Now, she ran hers over her lover’s body, feeling the play of muscle under his skin, and the brush of his hair over her.

Terime grasped her by the back of the neck, pushed his pelvis toward hers and bit with some pressure into her neck, just under the jaw. Annyell moaned at the aggression of it, and dragged her nails across his back. He trembled, and knelt down on the floor before her. Steadying her hips with his hands, his mouth returned to her sex. She relaxed into his caresses, letting his hands hold her upright. It did not take long before the desire in her eyes matched his.

Her elven lover rose to his feet and swept her into bed. He stretched out beside her and began to tease her breasts. Annyell let out a low growl and laid her hand on his penis, biting her lower lip. He frowned. “Lover, you have to tell me what you want. I can’t see your thoughts.”