At the End of the Temple

Perhaps, Asmaä mused, this place really was built by giants. For them, it would be unthinkable that someone could pass through such a small hole.

Srinandi traded a look with Asmaä. "You want me to go first?" he said. Seeing her eyes drift to his butt, he rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. Well, I'll burn before I let Mitra have all the fun..." He splashed into the gutter. The current teased his dangling cock as he lurched through the opening, one short step at a time.

Asmaä did indeed like the idea of watching him wade, but her real reason was more embarrassing. She still suspected treachery. Now, with no one behind her, she hopped in without fear. As the water soaked her clothes, she gritted her teeth for a chill. It never came; the river was oddly warm.

Inside, all was quiet. Asmaä did not know how. Outside, the rushing and sloshing of the water had filled the air with a ragged din. But now that she had passed the stone door, the rivers had gone mute. The gods only knew what magic silenced the river—or why.

The stone walkway ended, and ahead black water stretched as far as the light allowed her to see. Briefly, Asmaä longed to climb into a boat and explore the waters beyond. Someday, she decided, she would return to this place and see everything.

But for now, she climbed from the gutter back onto the walkway. The path ended here, a dead end overlooking the great, dark, silent lake. There was no hoard of loot. Instead, there was a throne, completely unadorned, rudely carved out of lumpy grey rock.

Srinandi looked more amused than disappointed. Mitra, who should have been cursing a storm, showed only a subdued smile. When Asmaä met her gaze, the smile grew a little deeper. "Well," she declared, "I don't need to sit. Outcastes are tougher than that."

Asmaä raised an eyebrow. That was not Mitra's honest voice. That was her imitation of it.

"Suit yourself," Srinandi laughed. "It's not every day a man gets to sit in a throne." His rear met the stone, and he froze.

The silence shattered. A horrible crushing and crunching noise boomed from the throne, and Srinandi jumped, but found he couldn't. His wrists and ankles were swallowed by the stone, subsumed into it like a hand sinking through cream. He howled in sudden fear as his arms were drawn behind him, his back reclined by force, and his ankles pulled wide and down until they were on the floor.

The throne could have torn him in half, but it didn't. It stopped there, with him neither sitting nor lying back, but something halfway in between. His panic subsided, and he found his voice. "How did... what just happened?" He looked up. "Mitra! You knew about this!"

Mitra giggled. "And you didn't see it coming? Srinandi, I'm insulted."

"This is the reason you wanted to come here! You lied to us!"

"Oh? How did I lie?"

Srinandi hesitated.

"What I said," said Mitra proudly, "is that there's a prize down here. And I was right." She faced Asmaä and gestured at Srinandi's delicious, prostrate form. "Here's our prize! One fine, choice cut of meat, ready to eat!"

Asmaä inched toward Srinandi, speechless. With a gentle hand, she reached down and parted Srinandi's shirt. Her fingers brushed his hot, water-rinsed skin. Ready to eat, indeed! She had not seen him bare-chested since that blessed opportunity back at the springs. Muscles glazed his flat, slim chest, and he had kept his chest hair sedulously shaved, as if waiting for the day when a woman unwrapped him. Asmaä traced her finger along a groove in his muscles. She could feel his warm skin and the slightest remnants of sweat. She could feel his muscles tense under her touch, his blood flowing beneath the skin, his lively heartbeat strumming away. His stomach did not show ridges of muscle like some men's did, but Asmaä could feel them beneath her fingers, hard coils of flesh that answered to her touch. Her eyes got ahead of her fingers, and she saw his cock, a little fuller than it had been last time.

Srinandi laughed. "This is it, Mitra? You two dragged me all this way just to get your legs around me?" He looked as Asmaä. "Was all this really easier than talking to me and asking if you can have me?"

Asmaä jumped. "But... I did ask, back at the sandbar! And you said no!"

"I said, 'not right away.' I said, 'let me see what kind of a woman you are.' But that didn't make sense to you, did it? You wanted to board the ship and plunder." He gave one last chuckle. "But the joke is on you. Those snake-things beat you to me. I'm limp." He looked down at his cock, still too soft to use. "Now what are you going to do about it?"

Mitra pulled out a climbing hook and used to lift his half-limp rod. "You think we're idiots? Men don't stay soft forever."

Srinandi looked briefly indignant, then chuckled darkly. "I knew something like this would probably happen to me, eventually. But I didn't think you'd be the one behind it, Asmaä."

"Oh, she's not," sang Mitra. "By rights, you're mine. But I want Asmaä to have a bite first. She's been making eyes at you so long, it's just ridiculous." She stepped back, folded her arms and watched expectantly.

Asmaä stood with her mouth open. "Me... first?" She tried to force courage into her veins, but in the absence of danger, her nerve abandoned her, and her cheeks tingled.

"You looked ready to explode, you wanted him so badly," said Mitra. "So go on. Take him. I want to watch."

Asmaä looked down at Srinandi, spread like a plate of ham. It hadn't looked like this in her fantasies. Always, she had imagined Srinandi the man-whore beckoning to her from across the surf-washed dock, or Captain Srinandi slyly inviting her into his cabin at night, or Srinandi the Slave of the Ring proudly offering her any three wishes she could imagine. It never started with Srinandi a prisoner, or her poised to... "You expect me to rape him?"

Srinandi looked at her sideways. "You are a pirate," he pointed out.

"Yes! And you're part of my crew! I... I don't want this."

"Oh, don't tell me you're going soft now!" Mitra's arms drooped. "You want him! What are you waiting for?"

"I didn't want..." she shook her head. "Gods, forget about that! Srinandi, you're stuck in there!"

"Good eyes," he deadpanned.

"I mean permanently! You could die in that stone!"

"No he won't," groaned Mitra. "You think I'm sick enough to kill him just for a ride?"

Asmaä blinked at her. "...yes."

"Well I'm not. The deal is, you have your way with him. Then it's my turn. Then we leave him to the nomads, and that's their payment for guiding us here."

"Payment?" gasped Srinandi.

"Of course. The nomads guided us right. You think I'd leave them with nothing?"

"Yes."

"Well I wouldn't!" Mitra thundered. "And they know the water trick to unlock him."

Water trick? Asmaä looked again at the stone and saw a little pit in a surface behind Srinandi's head, surrounded by wave-patterned carvings. On an impulse, Asmaä scooped up a double handful of water from the lake and poured it into the hole.

"Hey, don't you dare!" snapped Mitra. But Asmaä had already dared.

At first, nothing happened. Then the stone crackled. Srinandi yelped as the stone shifted around him, nearly crushing him. But then it began to recede like melting snow, and his hands and feet buoyed to the surface.

For a moment, Srinandi sat there, marveling at his free limbs, flexing his fingers. Then he stood up and faced Mitra. His nostrils flared. He tore off his shirt, gathered it in one hand and threw it onto Mitra's face. She wrestled with it for one comical moment, pulled it away and glared indignation at him. Slowly, she drew her machetes.

Asmaä whipped out her scimitar and braced her feet on the smooth stone.

Srinandi would have none of it. "What are you two maniacs going to do?" he scoffed. "If I die, then no one gets a ride. And killing me is the only way you'll get me back on that stupid throne." He turned to leave. "Come on, Asmaä."

Asmaä tried to move, but walking away from Mitra, all bare blades and coiled muscles, felt like walking off the edge of a cliff. But when she forced herself to take a step, Mitra did not lunge. She only watched her go like a tigress who'd just had her kill taken away.

Srinandi leapt down into the gutter and let the current carry him under the vault door. Asmaä followed, wading backwards, still baring her scimitar. When Srinandi climbed back up to dry ground and offered her a hand, Mitra still hadn't followed. Asmaä sheathed her weapon.

"She is coming out, isn't she?" said Srinandi.

"Depend on it," said Asmaä. "I've known her for three years. She's just giving us a head start." She sighed. "We've never drawn blades on each other before. Well, hardly ever."

The hall of petrified women seemed horribly mundane now. Impaled women moaning without voices was now only the second-most shocking thing Asmaä had seen today. Even Srinandi kept his male eyes off them for the most part.

In the courtyard outside, the white tendrils did not return. "What were those things?" Srinandi mused aloud. "They weren't vines, but they weren't arms. They were halfway in between."

"They must be part of this temple," said Asmaä. "The architects must have put them here to guard it... or something." Then she blurted out: "What if we could control them?"

Srinandi blushed. His cock made another attempt to go erect, showing where his thoughts had gone.

After climbing the roots up to the staircase, Asmaä peeked upstairs and saw the exit, a pinhole of sunlight in the distance. It was well that the two of them took so long to reach it, because her eyes needed every moment to adjust to the brightness.

The sticky, sweaty Jungle had never looked more welcoming. Asmaä pelted into the wild, Srinandi close behind her, and they plunged into the thickness, going as far and as fast as they could just to put distance between themselves and Mitra. Luck rewarded them with a river, and they splashed down the streambed, far enough that Mitra would never be able to track them.

Finally, Asmaä slumped down in a shallow spot. "There," she panted. "That's far enough." The cool water lapped at her skin, carrying away her heat and worry.

Srinandi sat down beside her. "Now Mitra will have to explain to the nomads why she doesn't have a boy-toy ready for them. I wonder if they'll put her in that throne as a replacement."

Asmaä had not thought of that. For that matter, she didn't think of anything at all as she rested her legs and enjoyed the flowing coolness.

"Go ahead," said Srinandi. "You can stare."

"Huh?" Asmaä became suddenly aware that she was watching his cock. At times, the silty water lapped up and covered in completely, and at others it waned and showed his curved, mostly erect tube of flesh. Most of the time, it gurgled around his manhood, giving her little glimpses of it. "Sorry. We should..." She tried to stop blushing. "We should go."

"Go? You don't want to wash yourself off first?"

She gave him a strange look. "Are you..." His quirked eyebrows and his thief's smile told her something she hadn't dared ask. "You want me to, don't you?"

He leaned back. "I wanted to see what kind of woman you were. Now I know I'm safe with you."

Asmaä beamed.

"Well? I've been naked all the way up here, but you're still fully dressed. Fair is fair. Or do you want me to do it for you?"

"Do it!" Asmaä giggled.

Licking his lips, he pushed himself to his knees, then slowly—teasingly—he positioned himself behind her. She first felt his hands on her sides, barely there but unmistakable, and his palms carefully squeezed her as his hands crawled around to her belly button.

Already, she boiled. He's doing it, she thought triumphantly. He's really doing it! A deep, formless moan issued from her throat.

Somehow, she could sense Srinandi smiling behind her as his hands reached the ties on her shirt and undid them, one by one. They were women's ties, more intricate than the kind men traditionally used, but they were no obstacle for his slow, careful fingers. Soon, her shirt parted, the sleeves came open, and the waterlogged hide fell away from her. The steamy jungle air caressed her skin.

Srinandi left her pants alone for the moment. That clever man, he knew better than to rush. Instead, his fingers traced lines under her breasts, then up the sides until they met again at her collarbone. His fingertips massaged her shoulders, and she relaxed, falling back into his firm chest. She felt the contours of his body on her back, the muscles and mounds and even the thin points of his nipples on her skin. She pushed her rear onto his lap, and his cock pushed back, ready for her.

Srinandi shifted his weight, then shifted again, and all at once he fell backwards into the shallows, and Asmaä was falling back after him.

She landed on top of him, staring up at the tree canopy. Her weight pressed on his hard body, sinking him into the soft soil. His chest pulsed as he laughed. "Next time, warn me before you get too hot to stand." But he didn't stop. Those irresistible fingers were on her again, pushing here, prodding there, tending her like a cooking fire.

Asmaä moaned again. She was done waiting. She trapped one of his hands with both of hers and guided it down to the hem of her pants, just beneath her belly.

Now Srinandi's breath broke warmly on her ear. "Relax."

But how could she relax now? His hand insinuated itself under the cloth, and her legs spasmed with anticipation. His fingers broke around her pleasure spot and fondled around her outer lips, rubbing skin against skin. She could hear her own wetness as he teased her open, then closed again. Then he delved a little deeper.

There it was, that friction she'd been wanting. Warmth flowered through her body, and she arched her back, pushing herself against him. His other hand tweaked her nipples, and she gasped and fell flat against him. His strength trapped her there, and he worked faster at her sex, building speed and heat and tension.

Asmaä closed her eyes, and suddenly Srinandi was her whole world. His body engulfed her. He could feel his breaths lifting gently between her shoulder blades, hear the air deep in his throat. She could even smell him now, a rich masculine scent. Her hands clamped on him and pulled him tighter against her, trying to burrow into his soft skin and hard muscle.

She burst. She felt it coming, and his hands played her masterfully as her passion overwhelmed her. She clenched him, pulled against his hands, pushed and squirmed, worked her body deeper against his until finally it passed, and she gained control of herself again. She panted, sweated, gloried in the fading rush. When it was gone, the boiling inside her had only grown hotter.

Every part of her felt rubbery and loose. She turned her head to face Srinandi, and with her hand she pulled him into a kiss. He didn't need to be told to kiss her like a queen, sucking and poking with his wet tongue.

As they held together, Asmaä pushed herself up, then rotated and lay over him, her stomach on his erection, her breasts rubbing against his slick, solid chest. She didn't allow him to break the kiss until her fingers found his cock and teased it up.

His lips broke from hers with a gasp. He looked a question at her as she lowered her pants. When she sat upright, looking down at his glistening abdomen, he said, "Are you sure you want to do this? I'm fertile."

She hooked both of her hands into his hair and pulled him up to sitting, his nose touching hers. "That's what I'm counting on," she said, straight into his eyes.

She lowered onto him. The cave-tendrils had worked him hard, but they couldn't drain him completely. His cock held up against her, inside her. She bucked, fingers wrapping themselves tighter in his hair. She pulled him into her, feeling his chest brushing on her tight, pricked nipples. Her rear slapped on his thighs as his shaft thrust brilliantly up into her. Once again, she could hear, feel, smell him going tense every time she collapsed onto him and bucked up again. Her feet dug into the soil, clamped on either side of his waist, and she sped up, feeding herself with him.

A surge of energy ran from his sex all the way up in a hissing intake of breath. It was a gesture Asmaä had felt exactly once before, and she braced herself.

Ripples ran up his cock. Warmth exploded into her. Srinandi gasped and huffed, his jaw working under her palms. Finally, he ran out, the flooding stopped, and his back sagged so that her hands cupping his chin were all that held him up.

His eyes found her again, and she pulled him into a brief kiss.

Slowly, she dismounted, then eased herself back into the water. With an audible effort, he got up and followed her, massaging her from the base of her spine up.

"Do you know what you just did?" he asked her.

"Of course I know. I sealed our bond."

"That's it? No ceremony? You don't want your mother or your grandmother here to witness?"

She turned to him, laughing. "We're not doing that, and you know it. I'm a pirate. You're a runaway. This is how we do it." One last kiss on his flawless cheek. "If anyone asks, we'll say we married in an old temple underground."