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Aoife instantly closed her eyes and lay motionless, endeavoring to slow her breathing to a slow, peaceful semblance of slumber. For a moment he remained frozen against her, then the hand on her belly stealthily withdrew, and his body eased away from hers, leaving cold, empty air behind her. She heard him shifting about, rolling to face the opposite wall, she guessed. Her ears caught his almost inaudible mutter of "Jaysis!"
For nigh an hour Aoife pretended to sleep as her ears remained attuned to him over the sounds of the now light rain. From his breathing, she judged him to be likewise wakeful. Almost wistfully, she remembered that this young man had in fact kissed her...in a way. After descending the rope from the tower, when they were caught on the battlement by the other guard...Declan had pretended to kiss her to convince his on-duty comrade that she was just a wagtail.
Aye, she had been so agitated and shocked there upon the battlement that she had scarce noticed anything save his overwhelming strength as he held her close. But their lips had touched, so they had. And today she had had an extended opportunity to feel the stirring power and warmth of his body as he had carried her in his arms.
At last, Aoife heard his breathing alter to the rhythm of true slumber, and for a long time she simply listened to him. The rain had ceased, and there were intermittent dripping sounds outside.
The unresolved chaos of her body and mind manifested again. She could still feel the ghost-like sensation of his large, strong hand upon her belly, pressing her back against him...could still sense the insistent rubbing of that hardness along the cleft of her bottom through their garments. Her tremulous imaginings blossomed.
What if she had --- instead of his clothes --- still been wearing naught but her nightgown...and...and what if he had previously risen to piss but drowsily hadn't completely refastened his breeches and drawers? What would that stiff pole have felt like with just a thin layer of linen separating them? What if the nightgown had ridden up in her sleep and 'twas his bare organ...its blunt ruddy head uncapped...prodding her with no intervening fabric at all? What if his hand on her belly had been under the nightgown...and slid yet lower? Oh Medb!
Images from her dream came back...his eager hand moving upon her breast...had he in actuality...whilst they both slept...fondled her so?! Placing her own hand over her breast, atop the shirt, Aoife felt the thumping of her heart, but could discover no clue as to what had in truth happened.
Her hand slid away and encountered the dagger handle in its scabbard. Shame overwhelmed her at her wayward thoughts and agitated body. Ah God, but she was a wicked, cowardly lass, so she was!
In a rush, her other bitter urge swelled anew. Clodagh! Eoin! Paddy! Now, she could even more efficiently accomplish that end...unencumbered by Declan's...the bastard's...too-close body, she could draw the blade and generate a mighty slashing motion. Round the handle her fingers closed as the pulse in her ears magnified.
She sat up silently, drawing the dagger.
Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump.
Her mind churned incoherently.
Her upraised hand shook.
Damn it all! Rising to her feet, Aoife crept from the stone shelter and breathed deeply of the rain-scented darkness. She stepped round to the side of the structure from whence she could not be seen and there doffed the coat. Her mind was racing...she decried absconding with his belongings but, refusing to let foolish pride leave her defenseless and frozen, she was obliged to find a compromise.
Swiftly she disrobed of his garments and stood naked a few moments with the cooling touch of the night air upon her breasts and bare, overheated cunny. Then she slipped on the tattered nightgown that she had been carrying draped round her neck. Over it, about her hips, she tied the leather strap with the scabbard and knife, then redonned the coat. Tiptoeing back to the entrance of the cromleach, she set his breeches and shirt on the ground inside, and atop them she placed the contents of the coat pockets.
Aoife headed out into the dark pasture, her tense ears hearing no evidence behind her of his stirring. Climbing over a stone wall a few hundred yards thence, she broke into a limping run.
*****
- COMMENTS
Comentarista82almost 2 years agoYou bewitch readers with Declan's and Aoife's story/interactions. You reveal her thoughts plainly to all--especially the conflicts in her mind from how her trauma fragmented her memories to where we feel she cannot separate the truth from what she experienced--as well as how she has some nagging gaps.
Love how you describe the birds singing at night, the smells, the sounds: you portray these well.
It charms me yet frustrates me how you expose Aoife's feelings to us: on the one hand, she recognizes how safe she feels with Declan, as 1) she curled up against him while he ran with her and 2) she dreamed of him in a very sexy way yet felt no shame--just appreciation--but then she removes his clothes and runs off?!?? Yes, I can understand her reticence to reconcile the opposing desires to accept him yet still blame him for her tragedy. At least on the balance of the evidence, she's FAR more in his corner than not--although you'd think she'd crush all her fears after she ran from him--only for him to find her, defend her and liberate her from the two thugs in the alley. A bit daft, isn't she?
Despite some misgivings....5
Horseman68almost 2 years agoI have become enthralled with the story. I’m hoping that they will speak to each other soon — as soon as he finds her again. Bravos.
Purplefizzalmost 2 years agoIrritating that our author has neither of them willing to talk, yet they’ve spent days together and been through more than a few scrapes, you’d imagine that like anyone else with a couple of brain cells they’d at least pass the time of day with each other even if it was to spew hate and/apologies, instead we have this somewhat contrived silence as a plot extender. Bored now.
Anonymousabout 3 years agoGreat start to a novel. This really is a good erotic work that feeds off the sexual tensions of the 2 main characters. Declan is infatuated with Aoife but is too proud and chivalrous to admit it. He was too proud to peek when Aoife was having her examination done, yet he was excited by it, and despite being in close contact with her in the outdoors, he's too proud to watch her when she has to expose herself to relieve herself or bath, yet he vividly imagines how her cunny would look like in those situations. He's not being honest with himself.
A really good scene of this sexual tension self denial, happens in Chapter 2 when Aoife sarcastically asks him if he wants to watch her piddle, and he nervously backs away, yet privately wishes he hadn't and then goes on to imagine how her cunny would look like piddling in his mind. "Alas, the idea of her piddling had now taken root in his mind as a most charming sight to behold, if a lad could count himself so fortunate...he flushed as he lingered over the vision. So distracted was he that he did not immediately note how long she had been gone." If he had been more honest with himself and watched, it would have been better for him, since she wouldn't have been able to run away. It also would have demystified and humanized her to him. He would have seen how her cunny looks like, gotten that mystery out of the way, and seeing her piddling with it, may have reminded him that she's only human, not the etheral spirit or goddess he seems to think she is. Like, this is her cunny, this is how it looks like, and there's piss coming out of her cunny because she's only human. Heck, with Declan's limited knowledge, he probably doesn't even know exactly where women pee from.
Aoife is sexually repressed in her own way but she's more honest about it. She doesn't hold Declan up on a falsely high pedestal, he's fully human to her, but she doesn't hold herself back the way Declan does. She wantonly made him strip at gunpoint, and brazenly stared and gawked at his genitals, something he doesn't have the courage to do. If anything she's seen more of him than he's seen of her. You did a really good job showing things from her perspective, and her point of view of how strange male parts look to her. Aoife is a virgin protagonist which is a nice rarity in stories, and while she has lust and sexual restraint issues of her own she probably doesn't want to squander her virginity just yet, but she definately isn't above staring, which means despite her own sexual tension and denial she's still more honest with herself than Declan is with himself. Maybe she could move on to get some gratification without sex, through exhibitionism and teasing, exposing her cunny to him by piddling and bathing in front of him, not minding being watched, maybe even asking him to help her as she does.
All in all, a very good work I hope this work keeps on going for a long time, heck the female lead has just discovered her own burgeoning sexuality, hopefully there's still many more misadventures to come.
