Nuë and the Djinn Ch. 07

She hesitated and then nodded. He spread her legs, his cock pressing on her belly. His brought his hand down, smacking her on the ass, a series of loud cracks, gentle because she was a delicate beauty. She cried out with them, arching, her legs spreading more.

"And then?" he said, his breathing rough.

"That's it," she said, lying and knowing he would hear it.

"I was there, Nuë. I know what happened next," he said, turning her over. She was on top of him now, on her back. He cupped her. "Do you want me to slap your pussy?"

She bit her lip and shivered. He waited. She spread her legs, offering herself. Mihel clamped down, pulling on all his control. He was too aroused, the haze taking him. He kept the slaps on the puffy pouch, her outer lips, striking it, although he sometimes caught the tenderness inside, too. Nuë cried out high, spreading more, sharp slaps, Mihel reaching for her nipples.

He stopped and she made a needy noise, moving on him, squirming. He touched her pussy. She was dripping on his fingers now, a breath away from coming. This was also his incora.

"Please, Mihel," she breathed.

"You're not done showing me your skills," he said, lifting her to straddle him again, facing him, her pussy slippery all over his cock.

She held his eyes, reaching between her legs, taking him in her hand. He grunted softly, rising. She angled him to her entrance, hitching, and began sinking onto him. She didn't slow, taking all of him all at once, a slick journey into hot, tight heat, doing it faster than he ever would.

Mihel knew that it hurt but that she also couldn't wait, Nuë giving a soft cry of pleasure as she began to move on him, thrusting her own hips, his fingers going to her nipples.

She cried out high and stilled, hitching, so close. He grabbed her hips, lifting her halfway off of himself, holding her still, refusing her. She writhed and whined. He had waited four hundred years to hear that sound.

"Mihel," she demanded, her whole body moving, pushing against his hands, arching, nothing but the struggles of an analeta to him, delicate wings. "Don't stop. I want you to now."

He watched her as she tried everything, arguing with him. She finally opened her eyes and whimpered at him, Mihel feeling a stab of deep lust. He rocked, holding her still.

"More, Mihel. Do that more, faster," she said. Her head fell back, her tits thrust out, his eyes on her nipples. His eyes dropped to her thighs, to where his cock was disappearing into her as he moved faster. He grunted with the pleasure, beginning to fuck her in earnest. He held her still, Mihel beginning to cry out low with each thrust. "Don't you come on my cock yet, little incora," he said, grunting.

"I can't stop it," she said. "The pleasure is coming, Mihel." She hitched once and went rigid, clamping so hard on him that it pushed him several rungs up the ladder he was climbing. She cried out high, shivering on him and pulsing, Mihel's mouth going to her nipples, tugging with his teeth, rough, making it stronger. She cried out again, Mihel thrusting through it. She releasing, pulsing wildly.

Then she went still, panting, Mihel watching her face, thrusting even faster. She winced. She was wiggling, her knees drawing up like she did, curling inward, pushing on his arms again, her eyes closed, her brows drawing together. "Stop, Mihel," she said. "Don't do that. I don't want it."

"No," he said, so aroused he couldn't think at all.

"Please. It's too much."

"I know," he said, rolling her abruptly on her back, careful of his weight, Nuë under him. He spread her legs wide, pumping into her. The pleasure was so deep. His hand went between them, finding her tenderness, his fingers moving fast on her little pussy. He looked deeply into her eyes.

"No, Mihel. Don't, it's too much. I don't like it." She continued, staring back at him, arousing him more, and finally she gave a dry sob and her face relaxed, changing her mind. "I like that," she breathed.

He was going to come. Dimly, he heard her draw her breath in for a long time and yell her pleasure, their lights igniting, so much of it. He wasn't in either world, coming in both, and he didn't ever want to leave here, the lust between them thick and so good. He was releasing, making a helpless sound. She shuddered under him as he finally finished, the relief of it almost as good as the pleasure right before.

He pressed into her to feel it, satiety, his cock emptied, his mind clear. Nuë was shaking under him. He nuzzled her, running his hand over her body, soothing her, caressing her in the other world too. He rolled them over, careful, his incora's weight nothing. She curled up on him, so sweet, and promptly went to sleep.

"Nuë," he said, drowsy himself.

"No," she said.

"We have to ride."

"You go ahead," she slurred. "I'll catch up."

He grinned, beginning to get up.

"No."

Trapped under an analeta. He relaxed back again. "How can I do that if you won't let me up?"

"I don't know,' she sighed, her tone saying it wasn't her problem.

#

Mihel rode up to the caravanserai on his big roan, Nuë tucked in front of him. He was leading her horse. There was one entrance, a large wooden gate through a stone arch, the caravanserai what amounted to a small stone fortress, a ring of buildings facing inward two stories high behind a huge wall.

They went through the gate. The first main area was a marketplace with storage and a small outpost with armed guards. There, merchants set up their wares on tables or on the ground. Past the marketplace was a long tunnel leading into a second ringed area, a central courtyard with an open well in the center with water. Armed guards stationed there watched the marketplace and the courtyard.

The single entrance was strategic. The caravanserai provided a place for trade merchants on the roads that was safe from raiders. One entrance meant there was only one way in or out. It was a place to get water, to rest and store goods, to trade, to pass news and to socialize.

On the far end was a large central buildings with arches, the residence of the caretaker and owner of the caravanserai, which also included several rooms for special guests. At this caravanserai, that person was Vassi, a large man with brown hair and brown eyes, of indeterminate origin with a voice that could boom and whose features were mostly hidden by facial hair, a huge beard and long mustache.

Nobody knew Vassi's past, although the merchant would tell you if you asked. That history just varied according to whom you were. He greeted everyone as a distant relative.

If you were from Heltas, then Vassi had been a Heltasian boy. He had been the child of a Suvian villager, a highland Kole, a lowland Utuli, a Shati tribesman, a Sidean, and any others required, and he spoke many languages poorly. If he was caught in contradiction, he would simply wave his hand and claim dual heritage, spinning a tale of forbidden love and tragedy, if necessary.

Ringing the inner courtyard were stables for horses and large livestock. On the second floor above were small rooms where a traveler could rest, nothing more than a bare bed in an alcove, some with a single window for light and air.

The marketplace and courtyard were always crowded, always busy, the babble of voices from many places. Translators ran from person to person during the day, making their money on their reputation when the trade tongue wasn't enough or a merchant didn't know it.

To a certain degree, Vassi would arbitrate conflicts, providing impartial judgement, although Mihel imagined he was open to bribery. Armed fighting wasn't tolerated, and Vassi would simply order the combatants to be put outside the gate to work out their difficulties. Some were forbidden from returning.

Luta delighted Vassi, who, unlike most humans, knew something about ifrit. Vassi didn't claim to speak the ifrit language, although he had tried to elicit words from Luta, who had refused. Vassi didn't claim to actually be an ifrit, either, not even partly so, possibly because it would so clearly strained the limits of credulity, but he sometimes alluded to a mysterious ancestry that might have involved a djinn and a beautiful woman from the mountains--a distant relative, of course.

Mihel rode through the main gate, his face reflecting his doubts, which was to say he looked thunderous and foul to those whose eyes were caught by the delicate beauty in front of him, who looked a bit like a Heltasian, golden hair and skin, but whose braids, twined with red leather, said she was Sidean. Those eyes shifted away, travelers finding other places to rest them.

Luta joined him in the marketplace, Mihel dismounting and pulling Nuë off the horse, leading both now. They walked through the tunnel, Luta signaling a stablehand. Mihel put Nuë's bags on the ground. The stablehand took the horses to be fed and watered.

"Rasmin, my friend!" Vassi's voice boomed through the courtyard, speaking the language of Heltas, showing up in front of his residence, his arms wide, his enthusiasm undimmed by the fact that he had just greeted Luta earlier. "You have brought my guest."

Vassi pretended not to see Mihel, who was glowering at him, Vassi's long legs eating up the distance to them, his eyes on Nuë.

Then Vassi seemed to see Mihel, switching to the language spoken by the Kole in the highlands, broken. His face under all the hair broke into a wide grin, Vassi knowing ifrit didn't need to speak a language to understand it. "Ciel! My old friend! I am overwhelmed with joy to see you. Might this woman at your side know my grandmother, from the mountains of my home? She once said to have met a large man of beauty with strange blue eyes, and later that year she bore a child but wouldn't say who is his father."

"No," Mihel said.

"My family doesn't speak of it," Vassi waved the issue away, his sharp eyes taking Nuë in, stepping in front of her, switching to the language spoken by the Sidean, again, broken. "Never have I seen this in my life! She is golden beauty from the land of Sidea, the place of my childhood youth!" he cried, approaching Nuë with enthusiasm, capturing her hands and kissing one and then the other. Nuë drew them back, frowning lightly.

Vassi's eyes focused on the blue bands on her wrists, his eyes going to Luta. He dropped Nuë's hands like they were hot, looking alarmed, his eyes going to Mihel, to the white lines on his wrists, and then he switched to the language spoken in Heltas, turning to Luta. "No," he said, shaking his head, stepping away. "No. I didn't agree to this, Rasmin, no, you didn't tell me this. If something happens to her, your brother will show up at my bedside and they will find my skinless meat quivering outside the gates."

"Yes," Mihel said. Mihel drew Nuë back toward himself, watching Vassi, his eyes narrowing.

Luta stepped forward to Vassi's side. "Fifty dirnai a day, five-thousand dirnai deposit upon our return since we know where to find you, and ten thousand we will leave for her if we don't return. I'll have your word you will arrange a protector and a place for her that is safe. But don't answer yet," Rasmin said hastily when Vassi opened his mouth.

Vassi eyed him. It was a great deal of money, obviously more than Rasmin had agreed to before. Vassi'ss eyes went to Nuë, and them to Mihel, Mihel watching as greed warring with native caution. "I need to think. Come with me," Vassi said heavily.

Vassi brought them into his residence, small but luxurious, to a large table. A servant came, bringing dates and fruit, watered wine. The servant left.

Vassi looked at Nuë again, throwing up his hand, speaking to Luta. "And what am I to do if she falls in love with a merchant and runs away in the night to have sex with him and bear his children?"

Mihel's face tightened, Vassi glancing at him, wary.

Luta leaned forward, raising his hand, making a delicate motion. "You don't worry about that. And maybe don't say it again aloud as an argument, Vassi. She doesn't do that. She's not like that."

"So would many men say of their wives--" Vassi scoffed.

"Yes, but for my brother and I, what we are, you understand, it's true, you see? The bracelets, you saw them? She doesn't do that. She's not like that."

"If you say so, Rasmin," Vassi said, sighing deeply, "but I must take into consideration this risk."

"There's no risk," Mihel said, narrowing his eyes.

Vassi leaned forward, turning away from Mihel slightly, Luta doing the same. Vassi's voice was low, like Mihel couldn't hear him. "Why your brother doesn't like me so much, Rasmin, when you are so friendly? You're not very the other's likeness for twins."

Rasmin shrugged, speaking as low. "He just doesn't understand you, Vassi, like I do. There's something I never told you, since sometimes I wanted things from you and it gave me an advantage in our negotiations."

"What's that?" Vassi said.

"See," Luta continued, "my brother and I, what we are, you understand, we can tell when someone is telling a lie or the truth. Since most of the time when you open your mouth, a lie emerges, my brother has his doubts. Now, me, I know that a person such as yourself, so many things to take into account, needs to sometimes stretch the truth, maybe get to a larger truth by another path, to make business happen in a fair way with a profit, but my brother isn't so worldly. He's a little primitive. He spends most of his time in our mountains."

Vassi's brows had raised, looking alarmed again. "You can tell when someone says the truth or false, Rasmin?"

"Yes. So if we returned, for example, and you said, 'This woman you left with me has found a merchant she loves and is having his baby with him in Kole,' which would be a lie, we would know that. Or, if you said, 'This woman you left with me fell into the well in the center of the courtyard and drowned herself tragically--'"

"Rasmin," Michel said, frowning, Rasmin waving a hand at him, ignoring him.

"We would know if this was a lie," Luta continued, "or, if you said, 'This woman you left with me was struck by an arrow--'"

"Rasmin," Mihel said sharply.

Luta turning to him, frowning. "I'm giving examples, brother. These things won't happen to Nuë," he said to Mihel, turning to Nuë. "These things don't happen to you, Nuë." Luta turned back to Vassi. "Don't mind my brother. He's superstitious. He lost her a couple times before, but that doesn't mean he's careless--"

"Rasmin!" Mihel said, his voice thundering into the room.

"Anyway," Luta continued, not looking at Mihel. "You agree, she stays here, she's beautiful, you can look at her but don't touch her at all, nobody else does, she's happy, we return, and you make five thousand dirnai plus fifty for every day she is here. You give her a place in your residence, you feed her and make her feel welcome. If we don't return, you help her, and we hear the truth when you say our agreement aloud before we leave."

Vassi was staring at him, seeming afraid to say anything at all, Mihel making a small noise and looking away. He was hardly surprised. One statement in twenty Vassi said was a partial truth, maybe, and the rest was horse shit. Vassi opened his mouth, his eyes going up. "Two hundred dirnai a day," he said carefully.

"Seventy-five," Rasmin said immediately.

"One fifty."

"One hundred dirnai a day and I spend one day, when we return, just one, and follow you where you go and tell you which one is lying and which one is telling the truth among all the people here."

"Done," Vassi said immediately.

"Good. You maybe say our agreement aloud for my brother so he can hear the truth of it now and he doesn't feel so strongly that he wants to kill you slow with his knife. He's a little protective, you understand."