Acolyte of the Pleasure Goddess Ch. 07

Bryn chuckled. "That's surprising. You're the most talkative partner I've ever had, by far."

She reached down and flicked the side of his cock, causing him to jump. "I think you have the right tool to quiet me, warrior. Or at least reduce my talk to cries."

Bryn shook his head. "No, no. I like it. In any case, it's not my job to shut you up. That's Cenhera's job."

"What?" Cenhera said, sitting up from where she had been masturbating, watching the two.

"Part of the scene is missing here," Bryn explained. "You heard Delyssa, she had another friend sitting on her face. Hop to it."

Cenhera hesitated. "I don't know... I've never done that with a girl before. Would it be weird?"

Delyssa shrugged from her supine position. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. For my part, the only weird thing is that I've never been with a tunling before. Or anyone who's not a human."

While she was speaking, Bryn entered her and began slow, easy thrusts into her sex.

"I might sit out this time," Cenhera said, her attention rapt on the slide of Bryn's cock into Delyssa.

After a dozen or so thrusts, Bryn said "Alright, sex-cleric. Any pointers for me? With my wooden cock I could go all day and usually the person would come eventually. I'm not sure I can keep up with that right now."

Delyssa giggled, a light sound that escaped through otherwise clenched teeth as she was rocked back and forth. "I have some ideas," she said between deep, steadying breaths. "I know what I like, which is five or six short, shallow thrusts followed by one long, deep one, and repeat."

As she described the pattern, Bryn fell into it. With each of the shallower thrusts, Delyssa's anticipation grew, and with it grew the agonizing satisfaction of each of the deeper penetrations. Bryn varied the number of short thrusts, sometimes four, sometimes seven, his hips rolling in a slow, powerful circle. When he thrust deep inside her, Delyssa could feel her whole lower body alight in trembling ecstasy.

Soon, she was coming. Her orgasm shook itself down through her quivering legs, tensing against Bryn's solid mass. She closed her fists around clutches of her black hair, and the ascending notes of her climactic moans echoed down the tunnel and into the dungeon behind them.

When he saw that she was coming, Bryn leaned over her and accelerated, one hand gripping her waist, the other planted by her head, supporting himself. Bryn put to use all of his warrior muscles, driving his cock into her in deep, rapid pounds. He grunted again, and Delyssa could feel her sex contracting and pulsing around his cock. For a moment, he held still, and she could sense that he too was nearing his edge.

Instead, he slowed, returning once more to the easy pace of before, and as she came down from her climax, she could already feel another one, more raw, threatening to boil over her.

"Unh. This really works for you? I think I could do this all day."

Delyssa simply let herself be rocked back and forth for a moment. She could feel how her lower back was slick with sweat as it rubbed against the smooth stone floor. Cenhera moved to sitting between them, tentatively reaching out and grasping Bryn's wet shaft with her hand. Bryn shifted to accommodate her, pulling out slightly, but then continued with his thrusting, carrying the tunling's hand in to brush against Delyssa's sex. Cenhera seemed fascinated by the process, her violet eyes wide as she stroked Bryn through his own pumping. Slowly, she reached down with her other hand and grasped Bryn's balls. Delyssa lost sight of her as Bryn lifted her ankles up to over his shoulders, the tunling blocked by her own hips, though she could feel her fingers continue to brush up against her lips and pubic hair as she held on to the fighter.

"What are you doing down there, Cen?" Bryn said, sounding more curious than anything else.

"Just... shut up. I'm exploring."

"Ah, once a sneak, always a sneak." Bryn seemed content to let Cenhera investigate him as he fucked Delyssa. He yelped, then looked sharply down at Cenhera, whose bob of hair was only visible down by Bryn's waist.

"Uh, I'd like to remind you that Delyssa used a lot of oil before she did that, Cen," he said.

Delyssa laid back and let herself enjoy the pair's banter, gazing lazily down her torso at the two of them teasing one another. Perhaps an even greater pleasure in life was to be fucked by two friends.

Seemingly satisfied, Cenhera re-emerged into Delyssa's view, smirking. She leaned over to peer directly at Bryn's cock as it plunged into Delyssa's wet, quivering sex.

"Are you going to empty into there again?" she asked. Delyssa could feel the tunlings warm breath upon her.

Bryn kept pace, but looked down at her quizzically. "I hadn't planned out my whole day ahead of time, you know. Why? You want me to finish somewhere else?" A sudden thought seemed to strike him and he faltered for a moment. "Hey, uh, Delyssa. Now that I have balls and all, should I not have come inside of you earlier? Was that... risky?"

"What, Bryn, you don't want to fill her up and breed the young acolyte?" Cenhera grinned up at the fighter. His face immediately turned a deep, dark red.

"Oh, fuck!" he cried, pulling out of her. His cock trembled and shot one long, heavy load of cum up between Delyssa's breasts, but before he could release any more, Cenhera dipped her head down and took it in her mouth, jaw wide to accommodate the thick organ. She sucked eagerly, her head between Delyssa's thighs, one hand steadying her against Delyssa's stomach. Delyssa laughed again and held Cenhera by the back of her head, applying a little pressure to keep her bobbing up and down on Bryn's cock, noisily swallowing as Bryn flexed his ass, sending more and more of his seed pouring into the tunling.

Eventually Cenhera broke away with a gasp and a cough, cum spilling out of her mouth and pooling on Delyssa's stomach. Bryn shook his cock, slapping it against Cenhera's head, releasing a final bead of cum that ran down towards her lips.

They sat there, just breathing together. Delyssa smiled and ran her hands through Cenhera's hair, stroking her. Bryn collapsed alongside them, on leg draped across Delyssa's thighs, cupping Cenhera in the curve of his own hip. Delyssa lifted her head and let Bryn lay an arm down beneath her, and she shifted slightly to cuddle up closer to him. It didn't seem like only a short time earlier they were crawling through the dark of a dangerous ruin, or fighting for their lives against a strange monster.

If only Vael were here, Delyssa found herself thinking. Then the party would be complete. She tried to picture the paladin participating in their revelries, and found it difficult. How would he arrange himself? She imagined him in different positions, different partners. Would he take her? Roughly, like a soldier might? Her on her hands and knees, him behind? Or would he lean down over her, with her on back, and exchange kisses and soft words, praises and oaths as they joined in bliss?

Maybe he would watch her. She thought of him sitting off to the side, looking over his shoulder as Bryn thrust into her with all the strength he possessed, and only when the sight grew too intense would he face them both, revealing his sturdy cock, dripping and demanding attention.

Or perhaps she would watch him. She thought of cupping his face in her hands as Bryn rode the paladin from behind, Vael's cum leaking down to the ground as the fighter held on to his cock for support. She thought of Bryn and Cenhera, the former on his knees, the other standing in front of Vael, both sucking his cock, licking up and down his firm body and soft balls, all while Delyssa stood before the paladin, leaning in to a hard kiss.

She imagined herself on her back on the grass, with Vael down between her legs, eating her. For an instant, with incredible clarity, she could see his dark eyes meeting hers across her body, could feel his beard tickling her, his tough hands wrapped around her thighs, and the light of the goddess Shevlana warming them both. That light, a background sensation to the lancing pleasure of the tongue she imagined against her palpitating sex, grew in an instant to a blinding flash. Suddenly, she could feel Vael totally, the touch of his skin against hers, his tongue across her clit, his eyes piercing into her own. She could feel the extent of her own pleasure, and beyond it, an edge, a wall of steel and chain, and past that: a barrier of sinew and scar tissue. In between heartbeats she could sense through that barrier, and tasted feelings recognizable but unfamiliar.

Hurt, jealously, shame, these swirled and twisted within Vael, she could feel their tumult at each point where his skin she envisioned met hers. But stronger than those, stronger by far, was a hurricane of grief. It swept at her, threatening to pull her inside, and for the first time, with indelible clarity, she saw clearly the pain behind his eyes. The vision dissolved, though for an instant Delyssa felt entirely held within a gentle, divine embrace, that left her weightless and comforted.

She opened her eyes to the stone tunnel and she came again, though neither of the campaigners embracing her were touching her with anything other than idle caresses. She shook and trembled, her stomach tensing, her knees shaking involuntarily.

Cenhera sat up. "What was that?"

"Did you just come again? Are all you Shevlana girls so sensitive?" Bryn asked.

Delyssa turned and buried her head into Bryn's shoulder, shutting her eyes and clenching her teeth to avoid gasping out a sob.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Bryn said, sitting upright. She let herself be pulled into his lap, choked back another cry.

"I didn't mean to... he's hurting, goddess, he's hurting."

"What? Who? Who?" Bryn said, holding her tight to him. She could hear how he was torn between an instinct to comfort and rising panic, but it was all she could do to swallow the growing lump in her throat.

"Was it another vision? Like by the river?" he said softly. She nodded against his shoulder. She made herself breathe in through her nose. Inside her, in that pit between her heart and her loins where she sought to channel Shevlana's magic, she felt a warmth begin to kindle and spread through her. It eased the tightening she felt across her skin, soothed the ache in her lungs and throat. The first and last tears fell from the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them each away with a finger and exhaled a steady, calming breath.

She sat back from Bryn and gathered herself for a moment.

"It was like the vision, in a way, but not the same. It wasn't a sending, I wasn't seeing someplace else. I was seeing someone else, into them, a glimpse inside..."

"Who was it? Did you know them?" Bryn's hug was tight, strong arms holding her close to him, unmindful of the fluids that now stuck between them.

She glanced away, and she could feel his gaze following hers out from the mouth of the tunnel and towards their empty campsite.

"Did you see Vael?" Bryn said quietly. Delyssa nodded.

She pulled away from him. Cenhera sat quietly to one side, not looking at either, but clearly playing attention.

"It was just fancy at first. Just my imagination, I was picturing him... what it might be like if he were to join us. Like this," she said, gesturing to their naked bodies. "But then I thought of just him and me, and somehow I could feel what he felt. Not the senses, not how I felt him against me. I could feel what he carried. And goddess, how it hurt me."

Bryn sat back, ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed. "He's a grim man, Vael is. Not the shining beacon of hope that one imagines a paladin to be."

Delyssa thought back to their conversation in the river. "He said his order teaches shame, and penance. That he was a killer with blood on his hands."

"He's a good man," Bryn said firmly. "I know that to be true."

"I know it too," Delyssa said.

"But he's also a haunted one," he continued. "I don't suppose he's told you anything of his past?"

Delyssa shook her head. "He mentioned something about growing up in an army."

"Aye. The Dolonese Legion. From what I've gathered, that's where he learned to march and ride and hold a sword. But I don't think that's what haunts. The Dolonese are no worse than any army of bastards that any warrior has fought with. I haven't spoken to Vael much about his past -- backstories tire me -- but I think he fought with the Quiet Host."

"He's mentioned them," Delyssa said slowly, "but only in relation to his patron, Saint Barassa. I know nothing of them, I assumed that they only existed long ago."

Bryn shook his head. "They yet live. Perhaps not as renowned as they once were, nor as many-numbered, but the ranks of the Host still hold. They fight far from here, far even from Vael's homeland of Ondolond. They are something between mercenaries and fanatics. They fight with no banner, no charge, no crest. And no member ever speaks. No captains so much as utter an order, no commands and no battle-cries. I've heard stories about them -- most warriors have.

"Blank faces beneath black helmets. Ranks moving in unison, the only sound the tremor of a thousand boots in time, the rustle of arms and the rasp of drawn blades." Bryn's eyes were focused on the wall behind Delyssa. "If one of the Host gets injured, he stays silent. If he cries out in pain, his own comrades cut him down before the sound finishes leaving his lips." Bryn's attention snapped back to Delyssa. "What we do, scrapping with monsters in caves, finding strange magics and great treasures, is bloody easy work. Battles are hell." He shook his head. "To fight like that without making a sound. That kind of discipline would break a man, Delyssa. I know I'm not strong enough for that. Nor would I want to be. But to have that discipline and then doubt yourself? And then leave? It's a bloody miracle. I mean that. I don't know how he heard of Saint Barassa in a legion that doesn't speak, but I'm glad he did."

Delyssa didn't know what to say, felt like she didn't even know how to begin a response. She struggled to order her thoughts. "How do you know this, if Vael hasn't mentioned it?"

Bryn shrugged. "Part of it is gossip. Vael might not spread much rumor, but other campaigners do, and you hear things from time to time."

"And the other part?"

Bryn absently scratched at the stone beside him with a finger. "I've seen how he fights, and it matches what I've heard. You've seen him fight against monsters, big beasts, wyrd things. You can't practice against those. You just have to rely on your own skill, your own speed. But I've seen Vael fight against men. It's... well... I hope you never see it yourself, Delyssa. He's... methodical. Precise. And afterwards, he gets this look, like he's somewhere else. Somewhere bad. I don't blame him for being haunted.

"You'll hear me teasing him, because, well, that's just who I am," said Bryn, barking a laugh. It sounded shallow against the stone. "But I also like to think that he needs to hear it, to know that he's in freer company. Who knows if it helps."

Bryn stood, and Cenhera followed. The mood was soured, and through all of her swirling emotions Delyssa felt guilt about ruining what could have been potentially hours more of sex. She thought about her earlier conversations with Vael, trying to piece together a complete picture of the man. He thought of himself as bloody-handed, a killer, someone whose physical skill, his instincts, were suited only to violence. She could not think of a greater difference in one's relationship to their body than the one between Vael and herself.

At the Temple of Shevlana where Delyssa was raised to womanhood, and taught her entire understanding of herself and the world, the body was a source of almost limitless pleasures, a vessel of love and beauty and vitality, that could be shared to whatever extent one wished. And Vael thought of his body only as an instrument of harm.

She revisited those earlier imaginings of Vael's participation in their orgy and found the picture she conjured to be a little off, a little alien. How could such a man ever give himself to another like that? How could she prove to him, who had little of the comfort and joy of her own upbringing, that he was capable of such love?

She didn't know, and that realization hurt her.

They cleaned themselves. Cenhera wiped away their stains and sweat with a tingling spell, and they dressed in what little rags remained, though Delyssa kept her chest bare beyond the metal adornment of the Wings of Amity.

They sorted the gathered treasure, went over their packs, and lounged around in the lowering sun. When Bryn and Cenhera spoke, it was of how they intended to spend their share of the loot once they got back to Gra'tan. Bryn talked of new armor, while Cenhera went on about a wizard she knew from the Campaigner's Guild, an illusionist who would sell spells trapped on scrolls for coin. They mostly talked past each other.

Delyssa was silent. Her legs were still sore from her multiple orgasms, so she lay in the shade of the tunnel and watched the sky darken. She couldn't bring herself to care about the accumulated treasure: whatever was partitioned into her share would be given to the Temple, where the priestesses would make sure that it was spent wisely. Beyond that, she had little concern for it.

Her thoughts continued to be dominated by Vael, and of the vision she had that allowed for that empathetic connection. She thought of her conversation with Mesembre, the sadness she held when she told her that Delyssa could not heal Vael's kind of hurt.

She wanted to kick, scream at the injustice of it. The Vael she knew was a man of quiet kindness, generosity, and subtle wit. He deserved to love. He deserved to be loved. Like everyone else that Delyssa knew. But she also knew that he could not be forced to love or forced to accept another's love.

There must be a gap. A chink in the armor, somewhere between them where she could get through. She could sense it as clearly as she could feel the well of magic gifted by her goddess within her. There was a way to love Vael, with herself or her body. Mesembre said that he did not lust for Delyssa, but he loved her. If she could only learn to know what that love was, to feel its form, so that their hearts could truly speak to one another, not this fumbling about with words and manner.

She waited for him atop the hill, staff in hand and planted beside her, skirts flapping in the cold breeze, gooseflesh over her naked chest, the gold bands of the Wings of Amity warm and snug against her.

He appeared first as a distant light, the dim outline of a man holding a flickering lantern. He led the three mounts, picking their way across the same loose paths they traveled only a few days ago. Vael paused when he got close enough to see her faintly silhouetted against the dark blue of the desert night, but nonetheless he led the animals down and around the base of the hill. Delyssa watched. Vael seemed sluggish, and she realized that the paladin had none of the benefit of rest or relaxation that the rest of them enjoyed all day. Another surge of guilt flowed through her. She shook her head, and descended the hill. The others were already roused, and by the time Delyssa neared, they had approached Vael. He passed Bryn a bundle of clothes, and the fighter grumbled as he dressed: simple brown trousers and a thin shirt that hung loose around his shoulders.

"I wasn't sure of your size, so I bought three different shirts," Vael said cautiously. Bryn rolled up his sleeves and shrugged, rolling his shoulders.

"Thanks," the fighter said. "These fit nicely."

Vael turned towards Delyssa and offered a similar bundle. "At first I thought to get you something a little more... protective. Then I thought better of it. You don't need me telling you to wear something not to your liking."