Drowning at Dusk Ch. 05

"Indeed," said Varanthir. "Just about every day here I get some young brash recruit teasing me about my gray hairs or my wrinkles. Try harder."

I pondered for a moment, and decided to go right for the throat.

"Oh, I can see now," I said, snapping my fingers as if I'd stumbled upon some great revelation. "You're one of those men who gets off on being tossed around and beaten by a woman. A submissive, dutiful sort. And it'd be very embarrassing for you to get all hard and hot in front of your company once I thrash you."

Laughter rose from the other mercenaries, and Varanthir flashed me a feral grin.

"So terribly, terribly incorrect, Esharyn. But a well-placed barb nonetheless. Can't risk backing down from talk like that. Come on, then," he said, gesturing to the racks of training weapons. "Make your choice, and face me."

"Good luck," Kivessen said, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Save your luck for Varanthir. He's the one who will need it."

I crossed the courtyard, swaying my hips a little for added affect. Since Varanthir had opted for his training spear, the obvious choice would be to go for a similar weapon with reach, and they certainly had a variety of staves, spears, and wooden greatswords for that purpose.

And yet I was far better with a smaller, quicker blade. Even up against his greater reach, a shortsword or a dagger would feel much better in my hands. I also wasn't exactly trying towin, either, and was just looking for a bit of a distraction while we waited for Lescorik, and so I could take the chance to assess the battlemage's skills up close.

A few of the mercenaries called out a warning as I selected two smaller shortswords made of hardened wood. I ignored the warnings, gave the blades a twirl, and moved to stand before Varanthir.

"Rules?" I asked.

"First to three touches wins. Or if you get a full knockdown: back and all limbs on the ground."

"Only the weapons?" I asked, tossing one blade into the air. I deliberately botched the catch, nearly dropping it, and hoped that the little 'mishap' might cause him to misjudge me. "Or can I bite, kick, and scratch?"

"Bite, kick, scratch all you want. We've plenty of healing potions on hand. We just avoid steel against skin, that's all."

"And magic?"

"To make it fair, I'll only use mine if you use yours."

Given the extent of those runes on his arm, that still wouldn't be 'fair' at all, so I decided to keep my runestones in their little pouch.

"Begin!" one of the mercenaries shouted.

I rushed forward, wild and reckless, blades swinging in a desperate maelstrom. His spear easily batted aside the flailing strikes, but one came within inches of the side of his head. He nonetheless had a quick, easy victory: sidestepping, he thumped his spear against my backside, much to the delight of his subordinates.

"One touch!" Kivessen shouted.

"Sloppy," Varanthir said, as he moved back to take his position. "Good thing you're hiring us."

I'd been sloppy on purpose, of course. The wild attack had been a test of his movement and reactions, and to get him to lower his guard.

Feigning a growl of rage, I rushed him again, only a bit more cautious and restrained than my first charge. During that second offensive, I managed to get my blades past his guard and scraped over his tunic, but not quite enough for a full touch, and once more he twirled away and thumped his spear against my ass.

"Two touches to the captain!" the meadow elf called.

Jeers rose from the mercenaries. One booed, while another shouted in support, advising me to take it slower on the next try.

Rather than rush forward, I held my ground for the third round, allowing the battlemage to come to me. He didn't fall for the obvious bait, and instead advanced cautiously, jabbing tentatively with his spear to test my guard and my reflexes.

I finally unleashed myself, blurring forward, using one blade to attack and the other in reserve in case he countered. I bobbed and weaved between his thrusts and slashes, closing in and giving his thigh a fierce slap with my training sword, before slipping it up beneath his guard to rake the weapon over his stomach. Were this a real duel, his guts would have been on the ground.

"One touch for Esharyn!"

Laughing with glee, I tapped him on the ass with a sword as I passed, drawing forth hoots of laughter from the mercenaries. Varanthir took the loss well, and turned to face me, grinning widely.

"Playing games, are we?" he asked. "Fighting like a reckless fool for the first two rounds to throw me off?"

"I have no idea what you mean," I said, giving him a wink before settling into my defensive stance once more.

He attacked, with no hesitation whatsoever. Fierce steps, firm lunges, followed by wide sweeps with his spear that might have fractured a bone had they made contact. I rolled, and then hopped over one sweeping blow with the same grace Xelari had showed during her Moondance. Another quick step and I was past his guard, and I smacked both of my swords against his backside.

More jeers and laughter from the Tombflayers.

"Two touches to two touches!" Kivessen called. "Last round!"

"We could call it a draw here and now, if you don't want your ass to get sore again," I said, giving him my most impudent grin.

"I was going to say the same to you."

I met his gaze, licked my lips.

"Of course, if you let me win, maybe I'll let you make my ass sore in another way."

His eyes widened at that, right when Kivessen called for our third round to begin. That faint moment of lust-inflicted hesitation gave me all I needed. I darted forward, leapt into the air, and slammed both of my feet into his chest just before he could ready his spear. He stumbled backwards, dropping his spear and losing his balance.

Varanthir righted himself before he he could fall, and I dropped my blades, snatched up his spear, and after another lunge and a deft spin, I smacked him right on the ass with the stolen weapon.

"Three touches to Esharyn!"

With that, I twirled the spear, tossed it to my defeated opponent, then gave a grandiose bow that would have made Dazyar proud.

"Well fought," Varanthir said, mild amusement replacing the shock. "You're a nasty one. Feigning a lack of skill, tossing out a joke about your ass..."

"Who said it was a joke?"

The battlemage stared at me for a moment, then his eyes dipped lower, giving me an appraising, approving glance.

Gods, but that fight had gotten my blood up, and I was ready for a tumble then and there. What better way to seal the contract than with a nice fuck that made us sweat even more than our sparring had?

With the adrenaline and amusement fading, I wondered if that was really a good idea. As handsome and alluring as Varanthir was, I was unsure if Xelari would have approved of that sort of fooling around. Yes, she'd pleasured Dazyar in order to tease me, but that was only after we'd both discussed our plans to eventually bed him. Given the tumultuous, tenuous, and strange nature of our partnership, would it really be wise to spread my legs for the handsome battlemage at the moment?

Such dilemmas would have to wait, however. Lescorik returned, bearing scrolls, ink, and a skeletal hand with fingers coated in gold. I raised an eyebrow at the unusual sight, and followed the captains over to a table, where Varanthir wrote out the terms of the contract and the amount and manner of payment.

Once he handed it to me for approval, I skimmed it over and frowned.

"I thought I was paying for a dozen. This only accounts for payments to eleven."

"Call it your prize for winning that match," Varanthir said with a crooked grin. "My services will come for free. Besides, this contract is a good one. Sometimes I like to employ my spear for the good of the city, not just for the coin."

"How chivalrous."

That comment earned a burst of mirth from Lescorik and Kivessen, and I scribbled my signature to the parchment. Next came the down payment, which I splayed out on the table for them to count.

"What's the story of that hand?" I asked.

"It's a relic from one of the Tombflayers' first contracts," Varanthir explained. "That ragtag group of sellswords banded together to hunt down a necromancer, specifically a royal court mage who fled Mrenhold after the fall of the city's king. The mage turned to dark magic in a bid to take power for himself. Our forebears slew the mage, and divided up his bones as a trophy, with a piece being given to each First Captain of the company. These became good luck charms, of a sort, used to finalize formal contracts like this."

Varanthir picked up the skeletal hand, dipped its finger in ink, then scraped it over the contract.

"And we are agreed. At dawn tomorrow, this band of Tombflayers is at your service."

"A toast, then?" I asked.

"Afraid not," Kivessen said with a somber shake of his head. "We still have six hours of training left today. No drinks or distractions."

"Probably for the best," I said with a regretful smile. "I need to report back to my associates about my success here."

A flash of something like disappointment sparked in Varanthir's eyes.

"But we may yet have chance for a bit of fun later," I added quickly.

"'May?'" he repeated. "Based on your teasing and the way you were ogling me, it seemed you were ready to part your legs for me here and now."

"Believe me, I'm sorely tempted," I said, which earned wicked grins from the other mercenary officers. "But I may have gotten carried away. I'm in a...complex situation with one of my associates."

"You're sleeping with them, and not sure how they'd react, you mean," said Kivessen.

"More or less. Like I said. Complex. We have our fun but I'm still unsure as to how much fun either of us can have outside of our little partnership."

"Well, I'm the last man to wade into a complex, uncertain partnership," said Varanthir, though he gave me a wink. "But if you figure out some of that complexity and are up for a bout of a different sort, I'll be here."

"And don't you worry," I said with a bright grin at Kivessen and Lescorik. "I may be up for a bit of fun with the two of you, too."

Collecting the contract and thanking them for their time, I made my way back to the Songhouse. On the walk back, I pondered the opportunity I'd just turned down, and more than once thought about turning back for a wild tryst with Varanthir, and potentially his other officers.

Why was I so damned worried about making Xelari jealous? I wasn't her damned wife or her betrothed, and she had no true claim on me. Our bond was a strange and intense one, but nothing she'd ever said had made it seem like an exclusive arrangement.

As I arrived back at the Songhouse, I wondered if my reasons for turning down a possible wild fuck with the mercenaries had more to do with my desire for Xelari to be there to witness it.

Flustered by that thought, I cooled off with an icy bath, then had a meal down in the tavern below, and made small talk with some young bards who ranted and raved about Dazyar's performance the night before.

When the bard himself returned, they rushed him like children going to greet a parent returning from a war, and the grinning Dazyar basked in the attention, spending nearly a half hour buying the younger bards drinks and answering their barrage of questions. After finally extricating himself from their attentions, he joined me at the bar for a cup of tea.

"No need to break away from all that fawning attention," I said with a smile. "We still need to wait for Xelari."

"Truth be told, not sure how much of it I could stand."

"I've never met a bard who doesn't like adoration."

"Oh, I love it. But all that yammering was making my headache from the hangoverworse. Felt like my damned head was going to split open."

After a bit more idle chatter about the state of the city and our plans for the rest of the evening, the dusk elf finally returned. She bore a particularly fierce scowl, and ordered an unusually stiff drink from Sergayl.

"No luck with the Crow's Grave, I take it?" Dazyar asked.

"None. Though they did lead me on for a merry few hours, wining and dining at my expense before we could discuss details. It turns out they're more suited to just guarding farms and caravans, and they all nearly pissed themselves when I mentioned a hunt for a necromancer." She took a long gulp of her wine. "What about you two?"

"I secured us a ship," said Dazyar. "A large fishing boat, willing to set sail anywhere within fifty miles without care or question. Should have more than enough room for us and any mercenaries we hire."

"And I finalized a contract with the Tombflayers. A dozen hardened killers, including a battlemage, and a meadow elf with extensive experience in hunting undead. Expensive, but worth every ounce of silver." I laid out the contract for them to examine.

"Honestly, I'd have expected the Tombflayers to charge more," said Dazyar.

"Managed to get a discount. Got on quite well with their First Captain, a battlemage named Varanthir."

"'Quite well,' hmm?" Xelari repeated, raising an eyebrow as a devious gleam appeared in her altered eyes.

Gods damn it. I should have just slept with him. There was no jealousy in those eyes, only hungry curiosity.

"We had a friendly duel and flirted a bit. Nothing more." I took a drink and watched her carefully. "I was very much tempted, but wasn't sure how you'd react."

Dazyar cleared his throat and scooped up his cup.

"This seems like a private conversation. I'm going to go get some fresh air on the balcony, clear my head."

After the bard had wandered across the room, pursued by several of his young fans, Xelari laughed.

"You held back, out of fear for my jealousy?"

"I don't know," I said with an exasperated sigh. "You sucking on Dazyar's cock when I barged in was one thing, because we'd both talked about sleeping with him. And ever since our strange little alliance started, we've only been with each other, or we've just shared Dazyar or Terakh."

"How do you know I haven't had other lovers during this time, hmm? Given how much time we've been spending apart during these investigations, I very easily could have crawled into someone else's bed."

She had a point. After all, I'd have had no way of knowing if she'd used her wiles or body to try to coax information out of someone, or had simply found her way into someone else's bed for the sake of idle amusement.

"Let's say I did do that," she continued. "Assume that when I was negotiating with the Crow's Grave mercenaries, that I laid on my back for them and let their officers use me, one after another. That I moaned and wailed beneath their attention."

My breath caught in my throat. Had she done that? No. That was but another tease, another game, another little barb to test me.

"I might be a bit jealous. If only because I wasn't there to witness it and join in." I stared down at my half-empty cup. "I don't know. It's not a possessive sort of jealousy, though. Honestly, I'd only be mad if they mistreated you or didn't give you the pleasure you deserved. If you enjoyed yourself, and if I still get to have you later, what's the harm?"

She reached out and brushed a hand against my cheek.

"That is exactly how I feel, Esharyn. It is not the way of my culture to let petty jealousy get in the way. Pleasure is pleasure, no matter who delivers it. As long as such dalliances don't distract from the mission or get in between me and that delicious body of yours, why would I be angry?"

I turned to kiss her hand.

"I figured that was the case. But I had my doubts in the moment. And given our talk last night...I didn't want to risk breaking that trust."

"Adorable." She patted my cheek. "You can certainly scurry back off to their barracks if you want your fun."

"No, that's all right. It'd be too late by the time I'd get back there, and they're busy preparing for the expedition tomorrow. Maybe I'll save that for a victory celebration, though," I said with an impish smile.

"And what about a celebration tonight?" she asked, her fingers grazing over my wrist. "You did secure a band of skilled mercenaries who will surely help us win the day tomorrow. Certainly worth reveling in your triumph a little."

"Given that I was the one who secured the Tombflayers' support, does that mean I get to pick the method of celebration?"

Grinning, I looked her up and down, imagining all the wonderful and wicked ways I could use that curvaceous body of hers. Given that I'd missed out on a wild fuck with Varanthir, I had plenty of energy to unleash upon the dusk elf.

And unleash it I did.

Within moments of returning to our rented room, I'd grabbed her and bent her over the edge of the bed, not even taking the time to take off her clothes. I bent down, yanked up her skirt, earning a delighted laugh from the dusk elf.

A firm yank on her silken undergarments bared her sex to me, and I growled at the scent of her, and then again at the taste when I leaned in for a quick lick.

"Toys?" she asked, squeaking as I tilted her ass up for a better angle.

"Yes, but let me make you come, first."

My fingers gripped her ass, parted her cheeks, and I smirked and thought about licking at her rear entrance, before focusing instead on her cunt. Xelari moaned, her hips bucking back against my questing tongue.

I guessed she had been quite fired up by the talk of me fucking Varanthir, as she was already quite wet by the time I'd settled between her legs, and I quickly worked her up towards a peak. Delicious moisture soaked my tongue, and she let out an array of moans and sharp laughs, which rose and rose until her body went limp. A short and sharp one, and hardly the most delirious I'd made her.

But we were only getting started.

As she collected the dildo, I tore off my clothes, then ripped hers off as well. We collapsed to the bed in a tangle of kisses, pinches, and grasping touches. After rolling about for a time, our lips colliding, our teeth stealing quick little bites to each other's necks, she laid upon her back and affixed the straps around her hips.

"Ride me," she commanded.

I had other plans for the moment. My fingers brushed over her stomach and I took hold of the fake phallus. Smirking, I brought my mouth over it, taking it all the way to the hilt.

Laughing, Xelari brushed her fingers through my hair.

"The enchantment only conveys echoes of your pleasure."

"I know," I said, popping it free from my mouth, then winked and licked the tip. She tensed, clearly enjoying the sight of me sucking the toy even if she didn't feel anything. "What if I play with myself?"

"The enchantment is localized, I'm afraid."

"We'll need an upgrade, then."

I bobbed up and down on the shaft for a few moments, mostly to amuse myself, and also because of the fire it sparked in her gaze.

That fire brightened, and her nails scraped against my cheek.

"Enough games, malrixi. Ride me."

"You know," I said, before leaning down to kiss her thigh. "When you give me commands, it just makes me want to defy them."

"And there are times when I want you to defy me, too. But this is not one of those times."

Laughing, I raised myself up, moving to brace myself over the spit-soaked tip of the dildo.

"Need me that bad, huh?"

Her soft hands settled on my hips, and her arms strained in a vain effort to tug me down. Grinning impudently, I held still, easily thwarting her attempts to thrust inside of me.

"I always need you, Esharyn," she said, her deep, raspy voice cracking with just a hint of vulnerability.

Perhaps it was but a ploy, a scheme to get me to obey.

If it was a ruse, it was a damned good one. The softness in her voice, the need in her gaze, the tension in her arms...