Fool's War

Catching her under her knees, I pushed her legs up, opening her before my lips like the petals of a flower. A rose. And oh, how sweet and rich was the smell of that tainted rose. I lunged for it, licking deep into the hot center of her. From those warm depths, I lifted out a sweet ambrosia that was her sex turned liquid, her passion given form for my pleasure and her own. I drank her down and went back in for more, knowing that I could never slake my eternal hunger for her, but relishing the attempt to achieve that impossible goal.

"Oh, my sailor. Yes, devour me. Oh, yes just like that."

I know Beth spoke, but at that point words had no meaning for me. Just meaningless mumbles that gave no distraction to the pleasure I was giving and taking. Her hands laced themselves around the back of my head, and I was forcefully driven into her pussy by a desire I had no wish to fight. As the ability to breathe vanished in her wet folds of skin, I cared not in the least. Like an air plant that can sustain itself on nothing, I gave up trying to draw a breath. I would live only on the scent of her, that scent that still filled my lungs. Live and live happily.

Her nails dug into my scalp, and I felt Beth curl herself up off the mattress, her thighs and belly surrounding my head in warm skin. Shiver, after shiver of her thighs shook against my cheeks as she rode my face, arching up to drive my tongue even deeper. My nose was pressed painfully against her clit, and I moved it, rubbing that little hard nub to try and give her even an ounce more pleasure.

And take it she did.

"Evan, please!" she begged as her body betrayed her to her own passions. Orgasm after orgasm taking her to torturous levels of pleasure. Over and over she grasped me tighter. Grinding my face into that wet gash as her moans became a deep-throated purr of contentment and finally soft exhaustion.

Beth collapsed, boneless upon the bed and I upon her thigh, my head pillowed on that damp softness. We both gasped for air, each lost in a pleasure that was shared but was solely our own. Hers for the deliciousness of the spasmic-trimmers that still shook her thigh under my face, and mine for causing them. Oh, how much I live for knowing I can make a woman I love so much turn into such a primitive, passion driven...animal like this.

"Remind me to set up my tent next to the two of you at every event. I haven't had this much fun just listening in forever."

Beth and I began to laugh softly as Alejandro's whispered voice came to us through two layers of tent canvas.

"Glad...glad we could provide you with erotic entertainment, you sexy fellow," said Beth taking deep breaths, "Feel free to join in and let us hear you, if you're of a mind to...release some...stress."

He chuckled, a deep rich sound. "I surely will have to, before this weekend is over, if I keep listening to the two of you...my naughty neighbors."

We heard him getting up, a groan of the similar headache pain I felt, and the jingle of his coin belt as he got dressed.

Beth squirmed her ass under me and I had only looked up at her eyes to know what she had in mind. That lusty gleam in her eyes told me what she wanted to do, more than any words could have. She brushed my cheek with her fingertips, pushing my wet hair back form my face.

"I want him," she mouthed the words to me.

I grinned.

"Let me up, lover. I want to go get a quick shower before I help with breakfast." She ran a pair of fingers through her wetness. She brought her fingers to her nose and sniffed. "Now, I don't only smell like a French whore, but I'm as nasty wet as one too."

With a groan, I reluctantly picked my head up from that soft, white pillow of skin. Using the bedpost to lever myself to my feet, I offered her my hand. When I pulled her up, she melted all soft and warm in my arms, snuggling into my bare chest.

"God, I love you. The way you can make me feel..." She nuzzled her head under my chin.

Smiling, I kissed her hair. "I know, my lovely. You make me feel the same way."

Beth looked up at me, and I saw that her eyes were gleaming. Her hand left my side and wove into my long hair, pulling my face down hard to meet hers. Her lips though were gentle, soft and seeking only love in my kiss, my touch. I felt her lips twitch after a moment of it though. She pulled back, wiping at my mouth with an apologetic smile.

"Damn, hun! You...really, stink of pussy!" She giggled. "I have got to go get a bath and please, please go wash your face."

Grabbing our shower bag, a towel and her thick robe from the Rubbermaid, she dressed simply and left the tent still giggling like a loon.

Settling my own clothes, I dug out my shaving kit, and stuck my feet into my soft shoes. Going out into the common area under the big tent, I looked over at the sun just starting to make itself seen over the edge of the trees. The chilly breeze off the lake was enough to send chill bumps that I had to rub away up my arms, but not strong enough to blow off a thin water-hugging fog. I glanced around at the other tents of my household, a few soft snores and even fewer half-heard mumbles marking their first morning at war, on this cold now April first.

Taking a deep breath, I was about to walk to the bath house when Alejandro unzipped his door and came out, stretching his back. He saw me, gave me a grin and scratched his hand through the long loose locks of his hair. Walking over to me, he kept that grin.

"It goes without saying, you've had a good morning so far, Evan. Fun way to be woke up, by the way. Getting to listen to that." He fanned his face. "Like a portable heater, the two of you. I could feel the heat through the tent walls."

Actually feeling embarrassed, I grinned and just nodded.

He saw my little leather bag and pointed at it. "Heading up to the bath house? Let me get my kit, I'll walk with you." He slicked the curls of his mustache. "Got to look my best this fine April morning."

Chuckling, he went back to his tent and in a few we were walking up together to the cinder block building that was this site's shower and permanent bathroom. I wrapped my cloak around my arms before we were half way there. With a shiver, he did the same with his.

"Jesus, fuck howdy, it is cold this morning," he said after a dozen more feet. "Okay, note-to-self: bring warmer clothes next year."

"I've got extra stuff packed. We just did Gulf Wars, so it was easier to just launder everything and leave the trailer packed. You're certainly welcome to what will fit you."

He looked at my heavier frame and smiled. "I'll look like I'm getting my clothes from Abdul the Tent Maker." He shivered again. "Thanks, though. I'll take you up on that. Come on, walking faster, what a good idea!"

Laughing, I hurried after him. As we got closer, I began to hear Beth's voice raised in song. Alejandro stopped and listened. When he looked to me, I smiled. "Yeah, it's her. She loves to sing. Especially in the shower."

"She's got a great voice."

I nodded agreement and walked into the men's side of the bathhouse. We were the only ones there. I made quick use of one of the toilets and then, after giving my face a look over in the mirror, began to shave, still listening to Beth singing. I could easily let memory show me what she looked like just now, standing under that stream of hot water, her body moving as she soaped up and rinsed off. It's a sight I've seen hundreds of times, but can still watch over and over with pleasure.

Alejandro stepped up beside me and lathered up the sides of his face. I noticed he was quietly humming along with Beth. Even as I shaved, I found myself watching him. The way he did things with such deliberate action, no wasted motions. He shaved like an artist would approach a canvas, carefully placing the blade only after he had chosen the exact spot where he wanted it to go.

His eyes shifted over to me. A slow smile formed.

"I like begin watched. It's a guilty pleasure of mine, enjoying the eyes of others upon me." He washed the blade in the stream of water, tapping the hairs out the razor and going back to his face, trimmed another path clean. "Vanity, is such a sin, but it is also so much fun."

I laughed, a soft chuckle. He and I exchanged another look in the mirror, and then we both laughed. A deep rich laugh from him and an almost infectious giggle from me.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"Oh, yea! Oh, yea! My Lords and Ladies!"

"We heard you the first two dozen times...you sadistic so and so." Timothy muttered, holding his head between his hands, covering his ears as the herald continued his repeated speech, giving us the time for the armor inspection and for the first melees and tournaments. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thank you. Now go. Far away. As quietly as you can manage."

"Delicate this morning, Timothy?" asked Beth setting a plate in front of him.

"Oh, fuck my life. Jim, I hate you this morning, just so you know that." He looked at the food but turned a little green at the idea. "Mandy, your husband is a very evil man."

"No he is not! He is a very sweet, loving and caring man." Mandy gave Jim a kiss, on the side of the neck. "But he is a wicked brewer of some truly devilish concoctions. You have sampled enough of them by now to know that. So blameth not my husband for thy foolish excess, good Dane. Rather looketh thou to thy own besotted self for the true villain of thy morning vexation."

"No, no, please. No Shakespeare voice." Tim, moaned. He took another look at the food we were all digging into. "It's far too early for that part of my brain to have to work figuring out what you just said."

"She said shut up it's your own fault," I told him around a forkful of hash browns. I daubed a bit of ketchup off my lip with the edge of my thumb."And to not blame her husband that you drank ten mugs of his oak-aged vanilla mead."

At the laughter of the household, Timothy clutched his head in both hands again and laid his elbows on his knees in misery.

"Poor, poor Dane," said Beth, setting down her plate. She moved over to Timothy, and leaning over placed a kiss on his head. He groaned even at that light touch. "I understand. It's not your fault at all."

"No," he muttered. "No, it wasn't"

"I understand completely, it was the fault of that mead being just so delicious that you...had...to get another mug. And another," she said with clearly false sympathy.

"Exactly. Not my fault at all," he answered, in his pain not hearing her tone like the rest of us were.

"And that you have the self-control, when it comes to alcohol, of a masturbating chimpanzee," Beth patted the top of his head, as his mead saturated brain caught up to her sarcasm."That's not your fault either, right?"

Timothy again clutched his head at our laughter.

I watched my wife kneel down in front of him. "Now, go to my medical bag, get you a couple of Aleve, drink at least two cold bottles of water, and then eat your food before it gets cold. Oh, and man the fuck up, Dane. I expect to see you on the field to protect my fool of a husband. If he comes back covered in bruises I'm going to blame a certain person and take it out his hide." Beth put a finger under Timothy's chin. The burly, tattooed-covered biker-guy looking up at her meekly. "Understood, sweetie?"

He nodded without saying anything else. He got to his feet and set his plate into his seat to save it. I watched him with a smile shuffle off to my tent.

"Some people. I swear!" She sighed and plopped dramatically back down in the seat between Alejandro and me. "They just do not know how to handle their liquors."

"By the ears, right?" piped in Alejandro.

"Exactly," she answered and picked up her plate from my knee where she had left it. "Oh, and Timothy? Bring me a soda from the cooler while you're at it, hun. Please. Thank you."

Alejandro and I exchanged a silent grin over the top of her head.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"How you holding up there?" I asked Timothy as we stood waiting in our armor for the Knights Marshall to call "Lay on!" again. I rotated my left shoulder to try and ease the stinging ache from where a Trimarian knight had tagged me earlier. "Dane? You okay?"

"Please, Evan. I'm trying not to throw up in my helmet."

Chuckling, I left him alone with his misery, and turned to Jim who was on the other side of me. He gave me a tight nod and a half-salute with his sword.

"And...lay on, my lords!" cried the Marshall.

"STAY THE LINE!"

"DRESS IT UP!"

"MOVE IT UP! MOVE IT UP!"

Moving forwards with the rest of the shield wall, into that narrow gap between the stacked hay bales that simulated a lowered draw bridge, I raised my shield quickly to block an incoming arrow. The feel of it twanging off the plywood surface traveled through to my arm.

"REFORM!"

"BALISTA!"

"GIVE ME A SPEAR UP HERE!"

"SHIELD! NEED A SHIELD!"

A red-belted squire from Meridies gave my shoulder a tap as he moved behind me.

"SHIELD COMING UP. SHIELD COMING UP," I yelled as I advanced to join the wall of wood and metal where the crumpling sounds of an endless car crash were thundering.

"SHIELDWALL! ADVANCE! ADVANCE! ADVANCE!"

Lord Essex pointed with his sword towards the other end of the shield wall, sending his squire running to take care of that side while he managed to direct our end of the line.

"LOOK UP! BALISTA, LOOK UP!"

As the lines of warriors closed, I felt my adrenaline again start to rush through me. Then there was a back and fourth for a few moments to let the pole arms, have a chance. My shield took a couple of hard hits, but nothing got through. At the Knight's command, we pushed forward till our shields slammed into theirs.

"DRESS THE LINES! DRESS IT UP! DRESS IT UP!

Oh, the roar of it! The metal on wood roar!

"MERIDEAS, ADVANCE! SHIELDS TOTHE RIGHT! SHIELDS RIGHT!

The din as blow after blow was attempted over the edge of my shield was deafening but they didn't deliver anything hard enough that I felt I needed to acknowledge it. They pushed me back a step, but then from behind I felt a shield on my back helping me to hold ground against their strength.

"STAND YOUR GROUND!"

"Coming out, coming out. Dead, coming out!"

I moved enough for Jim to move from the spot beside me.

"DRESS UP THE CORNER! MERIDIAS!!!"

A hard jab from a pole arm over the shoulder of the man in front of me finally slipped through. The padded end connected with the front of my visor knocking my head back. Off balance, I couldn't recover when the back of my legs connected with the hay bale next to me.

"Oh, shit..." Tumbling ass-over-teakettle, I hit the ground with a sound similar to a black-smith shop collapsing. Into a pile of aluminum cans. On top of a cat.

A hand helped steady me, as I tumbled in a roll to my knee, catching myself with the end of my sword digging into the soft turf.

"You alright?" asked the marshall when I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. "You sure? Check your helm." He pulled me to my feet and kept a hand there till I steadied. I nodded my thanks.

Holding my sword arm over my head, I turned and walked past the line of hay, slipping past the warriors from the back rank as they moved into the gap my loss had caused.

The walk back to the edge of the field and the resurrection post took the last of the adrenaline from me leaving me actually glad I was dead, at least for now. Popping my visor, I pulled the helm from my head, taking my doo-rag with it. Making sure that the visor's hinge was not broken, I pulled the thin metal back straight and snapped it shut. When I reached the edge of the field, I gestured to a water bearer, who brought me a quick drink. I had her pour a little of the cold water into the black head rag.

"Thank you," I told her, as I put it back on.

"You're welcome, my lord."

"HOLD!"

"HOLD!" "HOLD!" "HOLD!" "HOLD!'

As the Field Marshall's call was picked up, and repeated by dozens of voices, till it sounded across the whole field behind me, I was thankful for it. Standing there, trying to catch my breath, I found I couldn't. Dropping my helm to the ground, I knelt beside it and leaned my sweaty forehead on my sword.

"Evan, you okay?"

"Yeah." I glanced up to see Beth moving around to stand as close to me as she could. "Just a bit winded. Adrenaline shakes. I'm good."

"You sure? Need to take a break?" she asked clearly worried.

With a shake of my head, I got back to my feet, and cinched my helm back on. Even though I would have liked to stay where I was till the marshall started the melee again, I had to go back to the others. Tapping the resurrection post with my sword, the marshall next to it nodded that he had seen it. I headed back across the field over to where Jim and Timothy were standing, waiting.

Before I could speak, the knight, Sir Essex stopped next to the three of us.

"You okay there?" he asked, resting his hand on my shoulder. "I saw you kneeling down over there."

"I was just catching my breath," I told him.

"Good. Reform with the line. The marshall is about to make the call."

Nodding, I took my place.

"Evan?"

"Stop mother-henning me, Jim. I'm good..." I told him, then gave him a look and a shrug "...ish."

"LAY ON!"

** ** ** ** *** ** **

Running my head under the rapidly chilling water, I moved a little to let the cold hit the sore place on my left arm. I grimaced at the slight pain from the railroad track-looking bruise on my shoulder and bicep. As the cold began to leech away the pain, I wish I could just stand here all day and let it soak the pain away, but there was a bath house full of guys waiting to get a shower. Shutting off the sad, leaking excuse for a faucet, I moved out from under the continuing dribble it let fall and reached through the curtain for my towel. I gave myself a quick rub to get somewhat dry, and then wrapped it around my hips. After sticking my feet back in my rubber bath sandals, I stepped outside so that the next guy waiting could use the shower. He, I noticed, had twice as many bruises as I did.

With my shower bag in hand, I moved out the wet-floored room into the area where guys were getting dried off and dressed. I used my second towel to get my hair dry and my legs. Sitting down on the simple wooden bench, I stepped back out my shoes and dried my feet better. Looking up, I smiled when I saw Alejandro walk into the bathroom. He gave me a quick grin then headed into the part of the bathhouse where the toilets and urinals were. I noticed a few eyes follow him, not all the looks were nice though. There were then a couple of exchanged looks between a few of the guys.

Those guys either moved back into the shower area to dress, or hurriedly left when Alejandro came walking back out.

The poi dancer's eyes went to my shoulder and he winced at the twin lines of bruising.

"Ouch!" He pointed to it. "And that would be why I don't get the whole hitting-each-other-with-sticks part of the SCA."

"Looks worse than it feels. I'll be sore for a day but I can't beat the rush the fighting gives me. I'll take the bruises to get that." Taking my towel, I gave it one more shake through my hair then got my brush out the shower bag. "You might like to give rapier fighting a try. The rush is the same but the bruises are less."

"Swishy-poke is for people that are young and in shape," said Timothy stepping over to us. His towel already replaced with his kilt. "Evan, there gave it a try and he looked like a geriatric case before the end of the first day."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered then broke into my best Yoda impersonation. "Old and feeble am I. But when my age you are, look as good you will not! Besides who was the hungover one this morning?"

Alejandro chuckled, at my not subtle thumb pointing. I noticed his eyes taking in Tim's bare chest. He moved his head a bit to follow the blue tribal around to Timothy's back.