The Thief of Virtue Ch. 01

"Are you finished?" he asked after a silent moment, nodding at the porridge. "I should check that wound of yours again – I'll need to look after it carefully if it's to heal right."

"Oh. Urrr. Thank you," said Ellia in a small voice, caught off-guard by his concern for her. It made her feel vulnerable and off-balance – he had no right to care for her. She changed the subject abruptly. "What was in that stuff you gave me? That potion?"

"That was the marsh rose you stole from me yesterday, amongst other things" Trystan said with a smile, enjoying the irony as he stacked the breakfast things.

"What?! Do you know how much that thing is worth?!"

"Worth more than your life?" He looked at her seriously. "Your wound was severe and infected, and you'd lost a lot of blood. You wouldn't have survived with normal treatment."

Ellia was silent, unsure of what to say. She should be dead. Failing that, she should be in a cell somewhere. This seemed better than both of those options, but perhaps that was just because she hadn't found the catch yet.

"So you can make potions, then?" she rallied, after a moment. "Isn't that a bit..."

"...unusual? Yes. I'd be grateful if you didn't tell anyone."

"How did you learn? The Dragonhorde executions... I mean, I thought the knowledge was gone?"

"That's not important," said Trystan, lifting the tray. "Can you remove that bandage yourself?" Ellia tried, but her shoulders were so stiff that she could barely lift her arms. Trystan sat on the bed beside her, untied the knot and began to unravel the long bandage. Ellia couldn't work out why his movements were suddenly so awkward until she realised that he was somehow trying to avoid touching her bare skin with his hands.

"It's OK," she said. "You can touch me, I'm not poisonous."

Trystan blushed, continuing his work without looking at her. The bandage was gradually falling free.

"I mean," continued Ellia, perversely enjoying his discomfort, "you must have stripped me to put the bandage on in the first place. So you must have seen me naked." If possible, Trystan's cheeks became an even darker colour. She noticed a vein in his neck throbbing ever so slightly. Looking down, she saw a pronounced bulge in the front of his leather pants.

"Maybe you had a little feel, too," she teased him. He retracted his hands from her bandage as though burnt and stood up, staring at her in horror.

"I would never touch a woman without her permission," he protested, disgusted at the thought. Ellia looked at him with her head on one side, trying to decide if this strangely prudish behaviour was genuine. After all, he was a man first, even before he was a paladin. At that moment, the rest of the bandage slipped down, revealing her naked breasts to the cold air. Ellia made no move to cover herself, and Trystan's eyes seemed to bulge for a moment as he stared at her, transfixed, unmoving. Then he turned tail and fled down the stairs. Ellia heard his heavy foot falls retreat, then the slam of a door as he, presumably, left the building. Well, she mused, he could vanquish vengeful ghosts but couldn't face a naked woman. She wondered if he was queer, but his physical arousal seemed to indicate otherwise. Quite a mystery.

*****

Sometime later, Trystan returned. Ellia had fallen asleep again, and looked up at him blearily.

"Forgive me for leaving so abruptly," he said, bowing formally.

She rubbed her eyes, vaguely. "What? Oh!" she said, remembering finally, staring at him in wonder. "You're... forgiven?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," she replied, stretching and twisting experimentally whilst holding the blanket up in front of her, wincing when she pulled the still-healing skin. "Less stiff, anyway," she conceded. She paused distractedly, sniffing the air. "Is there something.... burning?"

Trystan thought for a moment. "Oh, Arnan – the stew!" he cursed, and he disappeared down the stairs, feet thudding heavily on the wood. Ellia followed, wrapped in the blanket. Trystan was bent double over the fireplace, furiously stirring a pot set up on little stone feet. It was boiling relentlessly, and burning flecks of greasy liquid spattered his arms.

"Lift it off the fire – it'll just keep boiling otherwise," she suggested, staying well back. Trystan looked at her for a moment, then did as she said, his muscles bunching as he lifted the heavy pot.

"What was it supposed to be?" she asked. Even without the burn, it didn't look very appetising.

Trystan shrugged. "I'm no cook," he said, by way of explanation.

"No, I can see that," she replied. Ellia lifted the giant wooden spoon from the ruined stew, and sniffed it theatrically. She blew on it, and took a small taste. It was so bad that should couldn't help giggling.

"It tastes like the inside of a giant's shoes," she said, laughing.

"You've been inside a giant's shoes?" inquired Trystan, with mock-seriousness.

"Now THAT is a long story," she joked, winking. Trystan grinned at her.

"Well, what do you want to eat, then?" he asked.

"What do you have?" A determined search of the kitchen produced a large sack of flour lying forgotten in a cupboard, and a basket of eggs which had been given to Trystan when he had returned.

"OK," Ellia nodded. "We can work with this..."

*****

The forsaken stew had been fed to the next door pigs. Under Ellia's guidance, Trystan had painstakingly boiled water and clumsily mixed batter. Now, finally, they sat downstairs eating at a small table, talking comfortably about nothing in particular. It was dark outside and still raining, but the crackling fire cast a warm glow over the wooden walls.

Ellia sat back in her chair. Trystan had changed, she thought, as she watched him explaining about the Order of Arnan. In the morning he'd been gallant and polite, but thoroughly guarded. Over the afternoon, Ellia had seen him relax in her presence, becoming less formal and laughing more. Beyond his quiet modesty he had rather a sense of humour.

"How does someone become a Paladin of Arnan, anyway? I mean, it's a strange choice, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Well, I grew up in the order. Most of us do, you know, one way or another. They get so many babies on the doorstep they've installed a special flap," Trystan joked. She giggled.

"And, what, you go around slaying dragons?" she teased gently.

"Mainly, I go around solving problems for people. And that's about as glamorous as it sounds," he grinned wryly.

"What if the solution isn't clear?" she asked, thinking of her own predicament.

"Then I pray to Arnan."

"He's very chatty then, is he?" Trystan was silent for a while, considering his answer.

"Arnan favours mercy and equality," he said after a while. "That's what we try to achieve on his behalf. You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm very curious."

Trystan shrugged. Honestly he didn't mind; he rather enjoyed her company. She wasn't afraid or in awe of him, which most people seemed to be for some reason, and she was refreshingly honest, especially for a thief.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier," Ellia said, after some silence. Trystan looked awkward, but nodded silently in acknowledgement.

"Are the Knights of Arnan all virgins?" she asked curiously after a while.

Trystan changed the subject abruptly. "Do you want more food?" he asked, something steely in his voice.

"There's no shame in it," she persisted; "I suppose we all were once. Come to think of it," continued Ellia, "there's a Sir Theron of Arnan that I've heard stories about from some acquaintances of mine. 'Three-legged Theron', they called him, so I don't think HE could be a virgin..."

Trystan's mind flicked unwillingly back to the day when the monks had taken him, about seven years old, and the other orphans out into the fields. It was spring, and they were made to watch a bull mounting a cow, whilst one of the brothers droned on, describing the process. Trystan hadn't understood most of the words he'd used, but he had remembered the sound of the cow, bellowing and screaming, as it tried to escape the bull. The subject had not been mentioned again - perhaps that was all the monks thought necessary for a young boy's education. And though the Order of Arnan by no means enforced celibacy for its Paladins, Trystan had been left with an unshakable feeling that sex was contrary to Arnan's decree of equality – after all, what did the woman get out of it, except discomfort? Throughout his travels he had seen rape and abuse, only strengthening this belief. Men were beasts, who could not be trusted with women, and Theron was no different – brutalizing women with his manhood, and unworthy to bear Arnan's name.

"Sir Theron is a disgrace to the order and an abuser of women..." blurted out Trystan, before he could stop himself. Ellia stared at him in disbelief.

"The women I talked to said he was rather charming, and they enjoyed him immensely between the sheets," she said, with one eyebrow raised.

"They enjoyed him?" asked Trystan incredulously. "Impossible! You mean, he enjoyed them."

"I heard he was very talented..." she purred. "Wait," she said, an idea striking her suddenly, "do you somehow think that only men can receive pleasure from a coupling?". It was her turn to stare in disbelief, as his beetroot blush confirmed her notion. "Have you lived beneath a rock your entire life? I mean, I've heard of innocence, but this is ridiculous..." she tailed off as Trystan silently took the dishes from the table and returned with herbal tea.

"This will help you sleep," he said, stiffly, not meeting her eye.

"Now I've offended you again? I do seem to be rather good at that, don't I?" she grinned at him impishly, and he glared at her. "Forgive me? I was just curious. That's not the first time it's got me into trouble."

Trystan's steely expression melted into a smile once more, and their conversation turned to other matters. Before long Ellia was yawning in her chair.

"It's time for you to sleep again," said Trystan.

She protested mildly, but stood up anyway. Her head rushed dizzily as her blood pressure dropped, and she sat back down again heavily.

"Are you OK?" he asked, concerned. She nodded.

"Head rush," she explained.

"I shouldn't have let you stay out of bed so long," said Trystan. Before Ellia knew what was happening, Trystan had scooped her up without apparent effort and was carrying her up the stairs. She felt strangely warm and safe in his arms. These were not usually qualities she looked for in a man but combined with his smoky, masculine scent, she was finding him rather irresistible.

"I want to whisper something to you," she said softly as he carried her. He obligingly put his head down to hers. Ellia kissed him lightly on the cheek, his stubble tickling her lips.

"W- w- what was that for?" he stammered, caught off guard.

"A thank you?" she said. "You could have left me out in the swamp. Or you could have turned me over to the townspeople."

"I follow Arnan's wish for mercy," Trystan explained, trying to brush off the thanks, "and they would have given you none." He lowered her to the bed gently, sliding his arms from beneath her. She caught one of his hands in hers, and held it tightly.

"What's wrong?" asked Trystan with concern, sitting on the bed next to her. Ellia drew his hand to her, and placed it over her blanketed breast. Trystan said nothing, but his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. She felt resistance in his arm; he could easily have drawn away, but he didn't.

"You don't owe me anything. Don't do this..." he protested quietly, not removing his hand. Trystan was torn. She could see that he was arguing as much with himself as with her.

"I want this. For my own pleasure. Let me show you..." She left the words hanging in the air as she slipped the blanket away and pressed his warm hand to her skin. Trystan felt the supple flesh beneath his fingers, kneading and grasping without meaning to. He was transfixed by the smoothness of her skin, by the way her little pink-tipped nipple pressed into his palm. He thought guilty about how aroused he had become when he had bandaged her up the night before. He had avoided touching her as much as possible, but every time he did, he felt his swollen manhood jump. Downstairs in front of the fire he had tried to sleep with his raging erection, finally giving up and manipulating himself to orgasm; images of her body flashed unbidden in front of his closed eyes. He had never thought in his wildest dreams that he would lay his hands against her like this, and that she would welcome it.

Then Ellia sat up and kissed him, closing the gap between them, his mouth opening instinctively as hers did. He felt a strange, astonishing tension inside his chest as Ellia lapped at his tongue. She withdrew, trailing small kisses along his jaw line as she moved her lips to his ear. He found that his arms were around her naked back, and wondered how this had happened.

"I want you," she reassured him again, slipping her hands beneath the loose linen shirt and tugging it. She caressed his skin as she drew the fabric upwards and over his head, revealing a tattoo emblazoned on his chest - "Devoir me lie" in curling, monastic script. She lay her head against his shoulder and he cradled her there for a moment, as he had done when he had carried her across the marsh. Her fingers traced over the letters on his hair-speckled chest and he mimicked her, stroking his fingertips up and down her spine. For a moment they remained there, a calm silhouette against the oil lamp's glow. Rain and wind beat the roof above them but, inside the warmly lit room, all was still.

Ellia though, her ear pressed to his chest, heard the race of Trystan's heart which betrayed his quietness. She looked up to kiss him again, touching his chin lightly. He reciprocated more fiercely this time, taking some initiative to deepen the kiss. Reflexively, he tightening his grip upon her, and one hand slipped down to explore the curves of her hips beneath the blanket. Ellia moaned louder at his engagement, running her fingers through his hair and down his flanks. Trystan stopped instantly and pulled away from her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked fearfully, afraid that his long-held belief had been true and she was moaning in pain. Ellia was so small against his over-sized frame, and he was terrified that he would overwhelm her. Ellia just giggled.

"No, I... I was enjoying it..." she smiled into his concerned eyes, wondering how she could help him overcome his fear.

"Come," she said after a while. "Lie beside me." Trystan looked at her nervously, but did as he was told. Lying on their sides Trystan and Ellia looked at each other, one fluent in the motions of love and the other completely naïve. Ellia took Trystan's hand and placed it lightly on her cheek, moving her own hand to his face. Gently, she traced the curves of his features, encouraging him to do the same. She felt his touch feather against her skin as his fingers tentatively drew the curve of her nose, her jawline, her lips, mimicking her own touch.

As Ellia's hands moved lower to his chest, Trystan obediently copied. He gasped with surprise at the tingle of pleasure she released in his nipples. He copied her gentle stimulation, tapping and teasing the rosy points, which hardened even more. Trystan felt Ellia stroking the muscles of his chest and realised that she was asking him to do the same for her. Tentatively, he took her breasts in his wide palms, testing and kneading them. Her pressure increased, which emboldened his own touch. She felt deliciously pliable and soft, and she moved against his body in a way which aroused him immensely. He was already extremely hard and her undulation was both tormenting and delicious.

She kissed him, her breathing heavy and her cheeks becoming flushed as his attentions increased her desire. Her hands moved to cover his as the game changed, and she directly controlled his touch according to her pleasure. She tugged his hands to go lower, guiding them over her ribs and naval, stroking her waist and hips. Trystan's whole mind buzzed in his fingertips as he drew them over her soft skin. His heart thundered in his chest, and time seemed to flow oddly around them, so that he could not tell if minutes or hours had passed.

Trystan felt Ellia shift to her back and suddenly his fingers, entwined with hers, were being guided inside her yielding thighs. He felt her movements become smaller and more precise as his fingers were drawn to her entrance. He touched her and felt her wetness pooling, felt her hand grasp harder at his as together they explored her intimacy. Ellia was now gasping, and her face was flushed. She held tightly to Trystan's hand as she guided his fingers in circles over her clitoris, demanding his persistence, bucking her hips. Their motions grew faster until Trystan watched her head tip back into the bed and her body contract, feeling her hotly spasming beneath his touch. Her grip relaxed on his fingers and he slowed his movements, discovering her folds with his fingertips. Sliding lower, he found her slick and open. He pressed slightly inside her, and she gasped again, her eyelids fluttering. She squirmed on his finger, and her hand reached down to push him further inside her. Under her more relaxed guidance, Trystan explored her tight, sensitive walls, pulling out and re-entering her in a way which made her gasp over and over. Finally she could take the stimulation no more, and drew his glistening fingers away from her.

Trystan looked at her with his head on one side, as if asking approval. She reached up and kissed him. "Did you have pleasure?" he asked her. A wide smile spread across her face.

"Very much," she replied, kissing him. "Do you believe me now?" He smiled bashfully, and nodded. Ellia tugged at the elbow which he propped himself up with, until he finally understood and lay down beside her.

"Do you wish to sleep? Should I leave you?"

She shook her head, and tried to pull him into the middle of the bed. He chuckled gently and shifted, obligingly turning himself over to her will. She ran her hands over his chest and down to his belt, opening the buckle.

"I can't leave you like this," she purred, running her hands over the front of his trousers. A low groan rose from his chest as she stroked and teased him through the material. His member had been stiff for what seemed like an age, and her touch both eased and intensified his suffering. Unconsciously, his hips rose to meet her fingers.

Ellia grasped the sides of his loosened trousers and pulled them down. Trystan's manhood jutted out against his belly. It was larger than any Ellia had seen, but considering his height and build she was grateful that it was not even larger still. She had heard rumours that the manhood's size was relative to a man's sexual drive – if this was the case, Trystan's celibacy must have been truly torturous for him. Trystan stayed still, unsure of what to do and waiting for Ellia to act. She dragged his trousers off, considering the best way to approach this. Given his inexperience, he might come to completion before he was even inside her. That would be a real shame, she thought lustfully.

Ellia straddled Trystan's hips, steadying herself on his chest. Her hands seemed tiny against his broad shoulders. She rocked her hips above his, spreading her moistness over him. Then Trystan's hand came up to her breasts, his other cupping her buttocks, and she was unable to think or plan. She needed him inside her, now. Adjusting her angle, she slid just the glans inside her. It was Trystan's turn to gasp. Despite his intention to give her control he thrust up into her, burying another inch or so. Ellia rocked over him, gradually taking him all inside her. Gods, he was big – he stretched her even further open, filling her with a decadent pain as her body adjusted to accommodate him.