In Her Blood

The anger in the joy, rage in the ecstasy, fury in the simple bliss I carve through her way. I saw into her, hammer and pulverize the heavy weight as she screams. Her hands go to my breasts and I finally feel something sharp in the grip. Pain, glorious pain fluttering through my skin like a caged songbird. It's rapturous, scouring lightning bolts in its wake. Barren wastes and abandoned war standards rattling on the breeze. The scent of clean iron on the wind., the aftermath of energized storms, the rapids in the high lands. I take it all in and give it all out.

My second release comes faster. I see no reason to halt it. I need more. So, I'm taking more. The hole babbles something to stimy the tide, but another climax chokes her words with an iron fist. She fully collapses on me and that doesn't let me finish. I huff and the noise smolders just out of my lips. I roll over and bring her with me, bring us both up to standing. The weight isn't as much of an issue once she is in my arms. I lift and drop as I thrust. More movement, more shapes in her stomach that I make. I feel myself press into my stomach through hers. Tight, it is all tight. Her nails dig into my shoulders and that doesn't stop me. Her teeth find my shoulders and I feel the skin break. That doesn't stop me either. I wrench her lips away until they find mine. She screams in me and I devour it. The noise tastes lovely. Intoxicating.

I ravish her and start my second end in the moments to follow. The well is overflowing with no sense of running dry. My stomach hurts as the muscles clench and flex. It breaks and I feel the weight in us shift. The center flows and I lean back so we don't fall down again. I want everything to be upright and rigid. Her belly pushes her away and I have to shift my grip, so she remains in the air under my hands. I suck on her tongue. I taste everything she offers. It breaks me, the release and flow. Her noise dies down and I break away. The haze steams off me. I finish with her gravid, fecund stomach squishing around me. More of it has fallen to the earth. I don't like that, but she has been seeded enough. I don't want her to break completely. She gets a soft kiss to bring her down and set her aside the other.

I am dragged by another hole. A set of holes, actually. Two driven mad by my presence and I have let them believe they are strong enough to make me do anything thing. One with golden hair puts her head to the mattress and sticks up her hips in my direction. The one with dark hair gives her ass an open palm and spreads it for me. The dark haired one is nice. I like it. I like the murmurs that encourage me. I like the hums and coos and waving arousal that entices me further. A level passes through me and wipes the slate clean. The other two don't matter. They might as well have never happened. I am fresh and new and throbbing and eager. It hurts. I watch a vein pulse and throb on my length as the skin stretches. More, it needs more, and it grows to get more. The dark-haired gives off a bit of trepidation. Too big, but I don't care for her opinions. It doesn't matter. It won't change the inevitable reality I am enforcing.

I step forward and that is all I need. More tight, more wet, more heat gripping and tearing over me. She works with me as the dark haired one kisses my stomach and fondles my sack. She encourages me, she encourages her, calms her with words and touches and coos that let me go in deeper. It is more difficult with this one. Not impossible, but the shaking and the noises and the pleading make me more cautious. It would do me no good to have any of them break completely.

I grow bored with my front exposed. I gesture for the free one to stand and bring her hole to my mouth. I am still starving. She obeys like a good girl. Salivating, drooling down my chin, just as she does down her thighs, her lips meet mine. She tastes good. She tastes ready and willing, and I shove my tongue in circles through her, her legs grow weak and stumbly, and my hand can only do so much to support her like this. She screams and clenches and I taste her release run down my chin. Good. I like it when they do that. I like the feeling they give into me as I bring them down with me. The one on my hips does as well and I love the way it pours over me.

I move her legs up to my shoulders and my free hand goes to her spine. I lean her back and she has all the support she could ever want into the palm of my hand. She comes into me again and I feel it run down my chin. It makes me go faster into the poor vessel. My preseed fills her in terrible pulses like a flood. She is already full, and I am filling her more than she can handle. I don't care. I want her to be full and sated and still. I saw into her and break her under me. I have my feast laid out before me in every way. I devour into ravenous bestial darkness.

It comes again and it is thick and heavy and blunt through me. It comes into her and does the same as all the others. The one on my shoulders has another terrible bit of paradise on my chin. The one on the bed screams until she is hoarse. It fades into silence, and I am left with a moment to myself, riding out my wonderful end. The one in my hands goes limp and I shuffle her to the side for a moment, safe and snug on a spot of unsullied blankets. My work continues until I am done, and she is full and round and dead tired to the world of comatose dreams. One more kiss on one more forehead and one more for the growing nest.

"You're a monster," the one on the bed purrs in absolute awe. I bask in those two syllables. I revel in the awe behind it. The venom in my veins is finally slowing me down. There's a wobble in my steps that I don't quite realize is in me. The last one the one with sweet nothings on her lips, sits with her legs spread, hands pulling everything open for me. She is on the brink of madness, and I am so far over the edge.

I lay into her. I lay into it all one last time as the venom tries to slow me down. I fight it. I fight every urge they want me to have, and I refuse it with every fiber of my being. I move and thrust and break her, just like that voice in the back of my mind always wants to do. I don't even register how she feels on me anymore. It is good, I know that, but it is just an avenue for further release. One last time. One last little ounce of pleasure stolen from the terrible fog in my mind.

This last one is the fastest one to fall. I don't have pride that can be hurt anymore. It is my right to feel this way. Everything is screaming in unison of a song behind reality. I am so close and one last push takes me there.

It's numb. It's two steps beyond me and my realization. I know I should be feeling something as the last of my climaxes comes to us and forms one more round fecund belly under me. I feel a soft dream of joy at the sight. I have a soft bit of pride at the four wombs seeded by me. And I can't grasp it. It's just an empty acknowledgement of my being. It's all so ethereal, drifting through my grasp like gossamer.

I finish and I am not done if I had my way. But this is still nice. There is still a bit more work, carrying the last one to her own little part of the nest. Two of them are coming down together, lips together and hands all over, making the afterglow burn warm and bright. I am happy. They deserve this pleasure of theirs. The last one finds her spot. I teeter to my bunk and collapse. The venom is all through me and I can't think of anything else other than sleep. The clean up can wait for when we are all up and about.

---

It's a beautiful day. The thought keeps collecting in my mind. The sky is blue and clean with a soft breeze from the south. The sun hides behind the clouds, giving plentiful shade to everyone equally. There's the barest hint of rain on the wind, the full scent still a good day or so off. Just cold enough to invigorate the senses, but not quite enough to send shivers anywhere. Just enough to excuse a hot drink and a few extra minutes wrapped in a blanket. Stars, I wish I was still in a blanket with my retainers. Not even attending to me, just there. It is a beautiful day. Shame a war had to come along and ruin it.

I pull my spear free and streak the emerald grass with a man's life blood. His dead eyes still seethe with anger at my being. I can't be anything else, so I don't quite understand the anger. Get angry at things that can change, so you can change them. Like how I get angry with people like the good Ceannard so they become scared of me and do what I want them too. Like adding Annalise to my official retainer list as well as the one who administers whatever concoction I am assigned. That was certainly worth it.

My sword dances for a moment and opens another man's neck, splitting the chain mail coif like paper. The rings glow from the friction heat before the breeze takes it away to join the light of the stars. I wish I was by the sea, basking in the sun. I wish I was back in my tent with a kettle and an army of blankets. I wish I was anywhere but here, waiting and killing for the moment to turn to the next one. I swim in a sea of blind furious rage, directed at the tempest whirlpool. I sit at the center of it all. The world churns and I sit in the eye of the storm. I see the world as a red pan of stained glass. The scars come and look at me with clear diamond light. I fill in the gaps with steel and iron and blood, and we all go back to red. I waiver and dodge a set of arrows. My spear catches the rest. Someone else has been dispatched to deal with that particular pest. I'm on the southern flank, picking off stragglers and flankers and anyone trying to find a way to play this game smart. We're at war. There is no smart way to play at war.

I hear some whistling over the field of dry grass. I hear when screaming as they die. I catch the scent of iron and blood. My heart quickens. The glass pane waivers and bends, turning into shimmering heat haze of hue and color. There is a spotlight in the distance over a rolling hill. The day is getting better.

An odd thrill runs over my being and I'm not quite sure what name I can give it. Anger, that is definitely in there, the battle rage building up over the day. A bit of fatigue after a good day's work, but that's been washed away with the realization of my opponent. I have no time to be tired. And there is something akin to joy mixing in it all, just because it is her. Just because she is here. She lived through whatever happened since I saw her last. I get to see her and watch her and be with her. I loosen my wrists and work out a cramp in my thigh. My neck cracks and my helm rattles. I don't like wearing it, but I have to. It's the smart move. I want to take it off. That and the breast plate and the chain mail along my crotch and the greaves and the pauldrons. All of the heavy iron strapped to my body. So heavy, but I start walking now. Top of the hill with the tattered standard, that's where we're headed. I can't make out whose it was. Its just rags and scarred poles.

I reach the summit first. I reach it and wait, scanning the valleys and hills. Everyone's scattered and broken. All of our lines, all of our drills, all of our formations, all of theirs as well, didn't stand the first contact with the enemy. Just like always. I think I was supposed to run a cavalry unit, despite the horses' reactions to me. The good old Ceannard did not listen to my sound tactical advice, so then I had to take matters in my own hands. I tried. I really did. It is a beautiful day, and my mind tends to wander on beautiful days.

"Nice weather today," she says as she comes to my hill to die on. I hum in agreement.

"Kind of makes me want to go swimming," I say. She sighs at the thought. It is a good sigh.

"River or sea?" she asks.

"Sea. I like the scent of the ocean. More room, too."

"Good point. Haven't even been to the sea. They did my little process in the mountains.

"Lucky me. Had a great view from my operating cell."

She huffs a short laugh through her nose and hefts her axe into her hands. The silent question of readiness passes between us, and it is answered with a slow roll of my neck.

I have the first move of the day, low and sweeping and wide. A spray of reaped grass springs high into the dust. It frames her body and breaks the light. She looks radiant with the vivid ruby eyes burning with the same flame I keep in mine. Burning and smoldering all of that heat on my body. Everything sparks and burns, and I want it all on me. Her trail of destruction lies behind her and I am the next task at hand.

Her axe comes to my stomach, and we are playing at the low game today. We roll in the dirt like children at play. My foot catches on a stray arrow and a cracked skull. Dented mail and I roll through her strikes. The spear comes again, and she joins me on the ground.

We grapple. I slip through her grip, and she breaks mine. I move to her back and lift. A moment of surprise and she is in the air. A moment more and then she is on the ground. A second more and I am on top of her. An instant later and then I am under her.

Our weapons are forgotten. We work with our hands. I think I break her ribs with an open palm. She breaks my collarbone with a closed fist. I feel her gaze on me as she rakes her nails across my neck. Something breaks and we are both bleeding.

We break and gaze over our shredded perch. Her armor is dented, and I tore a good chunk from her stomach. I lost my greave and my helm in the scuffle. There's an axe at my feet and it doesn't feel right. We both come to standing, shaking and panting and bruised. Her eyes are so beautiful. I want to go swimming, to taste salt on my lips and wash away the blood. I want to grab the axe at my feet and take off her head. My stomach growls and I want to eat.

"They never give me enough food either," she pants. Her stomach protests too. I watch her abs shift and move and think I would like to touch them. She could touch mine as well.

She goes for her belt, and I go for mine. I pull a dagger, she gets small leather pouch. Dangerous things can lie in pouches. Powders and weights and tacks and poisons. She pulls a length of jerky from it.

"I've started having my retainers nick extra from the quartermaster when they get my injections," she sighs.

"I have them steal from the calvary units," I say.

"Huh. Smart thinking."

"They get specialist ones too. Not quite as good as the officers, but better than the grunts and definitely better than what I get."

She nods sagely and rips into a piece with her teeth. They look sharp. They look good. The jerky looks good and my stomach protests again. The noise forces her to look at her prize and shoot me a terrible glare in burning embers. It fades for a moment, and she tosses a piece to me. I snatch it from the air and hold it in my hand. It's so small. I want the big piece she has and the bigger one still in her. The sack lays on her lap and I spot a fun shape behind the leather. That could work too.

"It's good," I say through a full mouth. She nods and pulls another one for herself and none for me. I hate her. She is the devil of everything good. I will end her life. She tosses me another piece and all is forgiven. She heaves and ugly sigh and sits in the grass. A hand knocks away a fallen vambrace into the horizon. That's a spot for me. I am unsteady and starving. A moment's rest is in order. I am the worst weapon imaginable, but I need to be sharpened and oiled every once in a while.

"Who's winning," she asks. I shrug. My jerky's gone. I don't know where it went.

"I think it's you," she continues, "I've told my commander I don't know how many times we should be flanking from the north here. The lay's flatter so our horses would have an easier time. The hills give your archers a good vantage and we can't run those."

"It's all a coin toss really. They're both stupid," I say, "I keep getting calvary assignments."

"With the horses so skittish around us? Is everyone an idiot?"

"There's a theory I heard where we all get promoted to our level of incompetence. We stop impressing people at that point, so we get left alone and nobody questions it anymore. That and I think my guy is dipping into my injections. Makes him see things."

"That's insane. Why would anyone want to be shot full of that stuff?"

I shrug and there is no more jerky to be had. I guess that means we have to get up and pick up our weapons. Keep the good fight going so we can win the day for our respective flags. Maybe. I don't know. I really just want to have more food. We could probably go back to our tents and get food. No one would stop us. There is no one to stop us. We stand. We ready ourselves. The axe is in my hand, and I give it back. She gives me my own tools as well.

"How many more do you think they'll be?" I ask.

"Not sure, but not that many. Can't be. We're running ragged and you seem to be as well," she says, "They'll be looking for a way to end this civilly."

"My money's on a marriage."

"Probably. I think the last one ended with a marriage too."

Before we can start, a horn sounds over the rolling hills. It triggers the venom in my veins. Her eyes lose focus, and everything goes slack.

"Yours or mine," she asks. Already the urge to recall is getting stronger. I'm fighting it. I want to fight it. I want to stay here and find more jerky to eat.

"Mine," I say. Sounds like we have won the day. I glance back and my flag is raised nice and high.

"Good for you," she says. Already, she's walking away. I watch her move and my stars her ass is amazing. The urge to turn and walk is strong in me and I can't fight it anymore. I twirl my weapons and start walking. I think I'll try and get a bath in first before I see to my other needs. Unless I try and combine them all. Bath and dinner and sex all at once. I'm a tactical genius.

---

"Mongrel."

"Don't get too close to it. Look at its eyes."

"I'm surprised they let that thing in here. It should be in the cage with the bear."

"Whoever invited these things needs to be hanged."

"I don't trust the food here anymore. If they're letting it eat, then it can't be good."

"May this union bring peace and prosperity to both nations. Blood and iron have given way to doves and marriage. Bless our new parliament. Bless the future we will forge by our own hands."

I hear all of that and more from my perch on the balcony over the courtyard. It has a good view of the bear that's been mentioned. It's in a cage with a fun ball to play with. People gather round and throw chunks of meat at it. I take a sip of my flute. Sparkling wine, my first time having it and I think I've developed a taste for it. Don't think I have pull to get this added to my rations. The fighting's over as far as I can tell. The flute's empty. I glare at one of the servants until they get the message. The empty joins the army of them at my side. I hope they bring food this time as well.

I don't like the clothes they put on me. Stiff and tight in all the wrong places, my chest, my hips, my crotch, and offering no protection on anything vital. The collar is too high, digging into my chin every time I move. So many terrible things collected into a single garment. The castle is more to my liking, high walls and arrow slits and catapults. Or trebuchets. Never quite figured out the difference. The lad in the fancy pantaloons gives me another glass. I think they would have figured to just give me a bottle by now. He scurries away before I decide to bite his head off.

I am alone and it is a beautiful night to be alone. Stars and the moons and a streak of comets burning every handful of moments. The bear growls and the people clap, giving it another round of meat to chew through. I don't look at the poor thing. When it decides to break the bars and go on a fun rampage, I'll be on its side. But not now. I have more wine to drink and more food to pine after.