Devotia Ch. 08: Confession

Confession

Callie's fingers clutch the sheets desperately as her back arches, letting out a loud cry of pleasure. Her legs wrap around Calvin's neck as he smiles, tongue once again returning to the task of her hard shaft.

"You taste delicious," he grins, gently licking Callie's tip. She can hardly respond, mind racing with a deep ache for him.

Pressing her stomach down to steady her, Calvin lifts her hips higher. His free hand drifts to her raised ass, massaging it carefully as his mouth sucked her happily. Her eyes feel like they roll back into her skull as his finger softly presses against her asshole.

"Calvi-," her voice fails as he pulls a satisfied moan from her lips. His finger pushes inside her, tenderly stroking the soft walls inside her and causing her hips to quiver. As his finger presses down against her prostate, Callie's clit feels like it is going to burst. She throws a hand on top of his head, holding him down lightly as his tongue fondles her soft skin.

"Right there!" She shrieks as Calvin's finger circles her, his lips taking her clit into his mouth with glee. His head bobs up and down slowly, each sensual motion making her heart skip.

"Inside or ou-,"

"Don't you dare stop!" Callie shrieks as he lifts up to speak to her. She giggles playfully, using her hand in Calvin's curly hair to push him back down.

Calvin returns to eating her out with a delightful sparkle in his eyes, reveling in each twitch and gasp of her body. Callie lets herself melt into his arms, hips rocking as the gentle paladin speeds up.

Callie's body rocks as the orgasm consumes her, pressing her back into the bed and feeling the waves of bliss pour out through her veins. Just as one surge dissipates another quickly replaces it and leaves Callie trembling happily.

She closes her eyes, moaning slightly as Calvin's finger leaves her sensitive hole, lips quietly swallowing the taste of her as he leans back. His naked body climbs up into the bed, tenderly scooping her tired form into his arms and draping her across his chest.

"You always ask," she giggles into his wiry chest hairs, breathing finally slowing to a manageable pace.

Wisps of golden light trickle away from his body as she reopens her eyes, and her head and chest bob slightly as he laughs.

"I dunno," he chuckles, "you're still new at things and I just want to make sure."

"It's cute," she places a kiss on his cheek, hand drifting to cup the side of his neck. "And the answer is almost always 'inside.'"

"Well," he smirks, "I wouldn't want to risk missing the few times it isn't."

Callie smiles, laying back down and savoring the contented feeling inside of her. Outside the window of her bedroom, she listens to the quiet pattering of late spring rain landing across the tiles. She takes a few deep breaths, hearing the quiet peals of the noon bells ring out from the center of Solva.

"Has she said anything yet?" Calvin asks her some time later.

"Nothing," Callie confirms. "Complete silence for the last few days. I don't even think she's summoned anyone."

"That's so strange."

"Yeah," Callie nods. In the three days since the Feast of St. Valvedor, Junivere has been a ghost. Willow says she's been taking meals in her room, hardly speaking with anyone at all.

Callie had blown through a few waves of emotions: fear, then acceptance, then confusion. She'd thought Junivere would've confronted her about being threaded, or told someone, or anything... Callie couldn't understand why she had simply disappeared from public life.

"It doesn't matter," she tells Calvin. "I've accepted it at this point, I think. If the secret's out, it's out."

"That's brave of you," he replies kindly, stroking his fingers through her hair. "You're not the scared, sheepish woman I met two weeks ago."

Callie sighs. She couldn't believe it, either. Each day as a Devotia felt like weeks, and it was impossible to imagine doing any of the things she was doing now when she began. A small part of her wonders what she would be like if she lasts over a year in the role.

"How long are you able to stay?" She asks quietly. It was painful that the only times she could see him were small rendezvous in the villa and distant acknowledgements in public. She ached to just walk down Solva's streets and hold his hand.

He sits up, groaning slightly and gazing out the window for a moment. "Probably another couple hours. I think Knight-Captain Wellt is expecting me to show up for the officer's dinner tonight."

"Do you want to get something to eat with me?" She asks, hoping it doesn't come across as begging.

"Of course I do," he smiles, hand drifting down to rest on her lower back, putting her nerves at ease.

"Civa is making her famous lamb stew," Callie breathes out a small sigh of relief. "I helped her prep it so you could join us before you left."

"Good thinking," he kisses her forehead. "How many invasive questions should I expect?"

"Plenty," Callie giggles. "Salome says she wants to know how you measure up compared to Paladin Mickel. Apparently he was quite vigorous at the feast."

Calvin lets out a loud bark, falling back onto the bed laughing. "And which one is the one you had a hallway dash with?"

"Mira," she pokes his arm. "You'll like her." He raises a flirtatious eyebrow, and Callie pushes him playfully. "She's only into women. You'd have a better shot asking Civa to join us, but I think she's secretly into Willow and trying not to be."

"I never expected the priestesses to be so..."

"Insatiable?" Callie ventures. "Me either."

"And here you are, locked away with them," he smirks. "Must be so terrible for you."

"Get dressed," she laughs, standing and throwing on her own dress. "And if you ever want to know what Mira felt when I was with her, behave," she furrows her eyebrows, full of mischief, wondering what it would be like to tell her past self what her life was now like.

-- -- --

The late lunch with the priestesses and Calvin was painfully normal. Sitting and laughing and savoring each bite, listening to their voices fill up the large lounging room, Callie could close her eyes and pretend all of the things keeping them apart were gone.

She spends the whole time staring at Calvin, watching the way the laugh lines on his face twitch and his eyes twinkle with each joke. He could be obnoxiously pleasant, the kind of person who anyone could get along with and who Callie desperately wished she was more like when she was younger. Sitting with their legs intertwined on one of the large cushions, it was hard to believe he was real.

"No, no, no," Calvin snickers happily, "There's no way you could pick Dale over Timor! Timor's got a hundred pounds on him."

"Timor's not as tough as you'd want him to be," Civa sips a glass of wine, smirking proudly. Calvin's head rocks back in uproar, cackling like a madman while trying not to knock over his bowl.

"And Dale is... well Dale," Salome confirms. "He can do no wrong."

"It's a dueling ring," Callie snorts, "not your cot. I doubt it'd translate well." She doesn't really care at all for the sport, but Callie enjoys watching their eyes pop as she butts in.

"Whatever, hal delicate," Salome leers. "Your boyfriend is going to owe me way more than he can afford when he loses."

Callie's heart flutters silently at the word. She resists the urge to dissect Calvin's face, hopeful he feels the same.

Willow waves a hand quietly, sending another tiny jolt of fire into the burning pit that warmed them. Callie revels in the comfortable warmth as the drowsy storm thunders lightly above.

"So, Knight-Commander," Civa chimes in, "we've got a question for you."

"Civa," Callie hisses, embarrassed.

"It's not that question, hal Devotia," Mira grins knowingly, "though that's still on the agenda."

"As the recipient of the majority of Callie's blessings," Civa continues, leaning forward in her seat and flashing Callie a salacious smile. "How do you think she could improve her abilities? In less time consuming ways."

Calvin sits back, placing an arm around Callie and squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. Her face flushes.

"In all honesty?" He begins, and the girls lean in closer, excited for his answer. He leans to Callie, "Don't hate me for this." She shakes her head, smirking and pulling her knees to her chest. "I think she likes serving people."

The group bursts into laughter as Callie shrinks into herself, embarrassed. "I do not!" she giggles.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he shoves her, eyes beaming. "You do."

"I do," she confirms quietly, hiding behind her glass.

"You do," Mira smirks, causing Salome to tip over, gleefully cackling.

"Short of giving head to everyone she meets," Civa continues, "how do you think she could make that work?"

"I'm not really sure," Calvin lets out a breath, scratching his head. "But I guess it isn't really about the service, is it? It's more about the affirmation."

"You have nice eyes, Callie," Mira whispers, eagerly looking down to see if it'd work.

"I'm sure it's not that easy, Mira," Callie lays back against Calvin. "But I don't really know how."

"Well, hal Devotia, why don't you come pour my next drink for me, then?" Salome leans back, opening her legs commandingly and grinning at her.

Callie hardly stifles her giggle, getting up and filling Salome's drink with an exaggerated bow. "For you, hal Salome," she says in an overly proper voice.

"There's a good girl," Salome sips her drink greedily, eyes scanning Callie for a response, but the Devotia sits back down with a bemused expression and nothing happens. "Worth a shot," Salome concludes.

-- -- --

If spending time in the afternoon with Calvin and her friends made Callie feel more normal, the evening finding her on her own made her feel more lonely than ever. She sits on her bed later that night, glaring at the open space on her wide mattress and wishing he could be there to fill it.

She turns away, letting her mind drift. For not the first time in recent days, Callie wonders about Mykah. She knew he had escaped their home at the same time as she did, running to avoid the consequences of helping her, but she'd never known where he went. As horrible as her first days hiding were, Solva had bandaged those wounds well, and she wished her friend could be here with her.

She thinks again of Quimere, the merchant who had saved her. She wonders if she'd been interrogated for helping Callie, or if she was a good enough liar that none of them ever knew. Callie decides it's probably the latter, Quimere had a remarkably sharp wit.

A gentle knock on her door startles her slightly. She turns to face it, briefly confused, before deciding it's probably just Willow again. The quiet priestess was fond of sitting and drinking tea late at night, and Callie knows that if Willow saw her bedroom candles lit up past midnight, she was sure to stop by and invite her. Mostly she'd just giggle about the potter's apprentice, a stout girl named Vem who always wanted to watch Willow's hands attempt to work the clay.

Callie stretches, calling out, "Just a sec, Willow." Rolling her shoulders, she wonders what new stories the priestess might have for her.

She crosses the room, stifling a yawn and throwing open the door, preparing to greet her friend. But as the door creaks open, Callie's breath catches in her throat as Junivere stands before her, eyes red and puffy.

"Can I come in?" The fellow Devotia asks her quietly.

Callie's skin bristles and she stays motionless. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention as pangs of fear and alarm bounce around inside of her.

"Are you sure that's a-,"

"Please," Junivere begs, her voice low and weary.

"Fine," Callie exhales, stepping aside to allow her into the room. She closes the door quietly, turning around to watch as Junivere stands awkwardly in the center of the bedroom. For the first time since Callie had met her, she seems unsure of herself.

"Why are you here?" Callie asks her, her body remaining on guard.

Junivere tries to speak, but no words leave her lips. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before giving up, plopping down to sit on Callie's bed and running a hand through her own hair, which seems oily and matted slightly.

"Should I go call for someone or something?" Callie ventures nervously, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

"No," Junivere whispers, her voice weak and hoarse, "please stay."

Callie wants to comfort her, but she can still feel her muscles tense. It was unnatural seeing the Devotia this way, though deep inside Callie knows what she is capable of. She knows it isn't beyond Junivere for this to be some sort of trap.

"What do you want?" She asks, trying to maintain a neutral composure. Half of her wants to leave Junivere here and forget about her, while the other half breaks softly with concern.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out, throwing her hand to her mouth to stifle a shaking breath, tears welling up behind her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Callie shifts her weight again, crossing her arms across her chest. "What game are you playing?" She demands. "What is this?"

"It's not a game!" Junivere's voice squeaks.

"Why should I trust you? Remember what happened last time I saw you?" Callie backs up slightly, leaning her back against the door, feeling her resolve hold fast. "Tell me why I shouldn't have a guard remove you from my room."

"Callana, please," her voice begs, low and scared. "Can I stay with you tonight? I can't be alone right now."

"No," Callie declares, surprising even herself. "No."

"What?" Junivere shakes silently, restraining the urge to cry. Callie looks away, trying to avoid giving in.

"I said, 'no,'" Callie repeats. "I think you should leave."

Junivere nods, her eyes vacant and glassy. "I understand," she says softly. Instead of rising, she simply falls to her knees, crawling towards Callie and stopping at her feet. She looks up with a broken expression on her face. "Go ahead," she mutters, slowly opening her robes to expose her chest.

"What are you doing?" Callie tries to step back, forgetting the door directly behind her and hitting her head on the wood. She rubs the bump on her head, annoyed, looking back down at the timid Devotia below.

"This is what you want? Isn't it?" Junivere states, her tone flat. "Do whatever you want with me, just don't make me be alone. Please."

Staring into Junivere's eyes, watching her beg on the floor in front of Callie, she feels her defenses collapse. She drops to her knees, throwing her arms around her rival and pulling her tight to her chest. She feels Junivere's shoulders lurch, hearing the sounds of stifled whimpers as she cries into Callie's neck.

"It's okay," Callie coos, gently running a hand through her hair. "Whatever it is, it'll be okay." She shifts, stretching out her legs and leaning back against the wall, pulling Junivere with her and holding her tight.

Junivere cries for longer than Callie expects. It's never very loud or encompassing, almost as though she didn't want anyone to hear, even Callie. She simply snivels into Callie's chest, gently shaking and sniffing occasionally.

Sometime later, she lifts off of Callie's now damp chest, rubbing her eyes carefully. Callie reaches past her, picking up the dress she had been too lazy to fold away earlier and hands it to Junivere, who blows her nose gratefully.

"I'm sorry," Junivere whispers. "I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Callie asks quietly, directing Junivere to lean back against her. She pulls the girl close to her chest again, where her head gently lays on Callie as the rest of her body curls into a ball.

"You're threaded, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Callie exhales, hand lightly petting her head.

"I didn't know," she repeats. "I..."

"It's fine," Callie sighs. "It isn't really much of a secret anymore. You haven't been meaner about it than my family was."

"It's not that," Junivere huffs, sitting up slightly. "Just... look." She pulls up her tunic carefully, revealing her stomach to Callie.

"Okay...?" Callie looks at it, confused.

"Look closer," Junivere nudges, rolling her eyes.

Callie leans forward, eyes straining in the dim light. At first, she doesn't notice anything. But as she looks closer, she suddenly notices a few faded scars across Junivere's skin. A small hash of jagged cuts cross over her abdomen. They're faint, but hard to ignore once you've seen them.

"What are those?" Callie asks gently.

"I... I'm also threaded," Junivere explains. "But not like you were. It's a long story."

Callie feels her heart soften more. Placing a hand on Junivere's she lowers the girl's tunic, wrapping her back into her arms. "Do you want to tell me?"

Junivere nods slowly, taking a few deep breaths. "I used to be married. It's been eight years or so by now," she begins. Callie isn't sure exactly how old Junivere is, but she knows that eight years ago the Devotia wouldn't have been very old.

"I can feel you counting," she says quietly. "And you're probably right. I was young, too young. We got married when I was just about to turn seventeen."

"What happened?"

"His name was Silas," her body shivers slightly at his name. "My family sold me to him."

"Oh..." Callie feels her stomach churn.

"My family sucked, if you couldn't tell," Junivere continues. "I was the youngest of four, and the only girl. Once I was old enough to walk, and to understand people, suddenly I served them all. They'd make me fetch water every day, do their chores, carry the heavy shit from the market... everything. It got worse when my mom died."

Junivere pauses for a moment, shifting to be closer to Callie, who tightens her grasp in response. She could feel Junivere trembling softly.

"But then I got older, and suddenly I was drawing everyones' eyes. When people started making offers to buy me," she lets out a tense breath, "my dad was practically drooling over the bidding war. Silas was the winner."

Callie wants to say something to comfort her, but no words come to her mouth. She thinks back to her own childhood, terrible in its own ways, and doubts there's anything that could be said to help it.

"At first, he was nicer than my family, always bringing me little gifts and telling me how beautiful I was. It was such a stark change... for a while I thought I was in love," she sighs. "Gods it was embarrassing. I felt like a helpless puppy with him."

"What changed?" Callie asks quietly.

"He wanted an heir... and I let him." Her fingers gently grab a fold in Callie's dress, clutching it tightly. "But once I was pregnant... he changed. Suddenly he was just like my father and I couldn't do it anymore." She takes another deep breath. "I'd pray to Suul every morning and evening, begging for Her help. Once a mage divined that I was to have a daughter, not a son, I knew Silas would take it out on me."

She sits up, pulling away from Callie and holding her hands to her stomach again. "I'd heard of a lady who could help me. She made me this awful tea, and I thought I was going to die. Part of me wanted to. But, I no longer had to fear my child being born into the same life as I was."

"Juninvere..." Callie lays a soft hand on her cheek, wiping away the silent tear that fell.

"It was the right decision, I stand by it. But I couldn't risk it happening again. I knew a little magic, picking up bits here and there... I cut myself open, removed my ability to have children, used threaded magic to sew myself back together. I wasn't very good at it, obviously," she lifts her tunic again, gesturing to the scars.

"When Silas learned what I had done... I've never seen anyone that angry before. I ran, barely made it out of the house before he could catch me. I took refuge in a cathedral, hid with the priestesses there." She closes her eyes, and Callie could see a few tears drip by before she reopened them. Callie feels a soft trickle of water escape her own eye, not caring to brush it away.