Tales of Thistledown Ch. 02

"Is that a--."

"Portal," I finished, my voice croaking weakly against his chest. "Do you believe I'm a sorceress now?"

"Yes, but should you really have expended yourself like that?" I ignored him and tried to stand upright. My knees felt like water, and I would have crumpled to the ground if he hadn't caught me again.

"I think you've done enough for the day." He picked me up and slung me over his shoulder, easily as a sack of potatoes. Stepping carefully around the cockatrice's remains, he made his way to the portal and peered inside dubiously. "Does this really go back to where we came from?"

"If I didn't fuck it up."

"And if you did?"

"Our bodies will be torn to shreds."

"Hm. I'd rather that not happen to me." He tapped a finger against his lip.

"Are you a man or a maggot? Go."

He sighed and stepped through the portal.

My handmaiden Doreen shrieked and threw a cotton slipper at his forehead.

He rubbed it. "Ow." We had returned to my bedchamber. The bed had been made, the sheets washed and the linen drapes changed, and the room was tidier than we'd left it. A very startled Doreen huddled in a corner of the room by the oak wardrobe, clutching a second slipper to her chest. Marion unslung me from his shoulder, sliding me onto the floor to lean against him.

"Doreen." My voice was tired, but no longer frail. "This is Marion. Marion, my handmaiden Doreen."

"Charmed." He inclined his head.

"Mistress! But, what... how...?" Doreen babbled, trying to make sense of the scene before her.

"Doreen. Bring me something to eat and drink."

"Mistress? Well... yes, of course. But, if I might ask...?"

"You may not."

"Of course, right away... but, who...?" She pointed a shaking finger at Marion. He grinned back.

"Doreen?"

"Yes, mistress?"

"Close your mouth. It suits you better. And go fetch food and wine." She did, leaving the room in a bustle of skirts, no stranger to my darker moods.

I collapsed face-first on the upholstery as the door closed, burying my face in the soft duvet. Marion sighed and sat down beside me. He began to unlace his boots. I peered up at him. "What on earth are you doing?"

"You can't mean to kick me out already!" he protested. "I just slew a cockatrice for you!"

"That's certainly a way of putting it. One might also say you stabbed a half-dead animal on your own behalf."

"At least put me up for dinner. It's no expense to you, after all."

"Fine." Some minutes later, Doreen returned, peering suspiciously at Marion and bearing a platter of fresh-baked bread, cold cheese, and a thick beef stew in an earthenware bowl, still simmering and loaded to the brim with carrots and onions. She set it down on the small, satinwood desk next to the bed.

"Mistress, if you don't mind me saying, the whole castle's been abuzz over you these last couple days. No one knew where you went. Why, Lord Horace hisself came to ask me if I had any idea of your whereabouts! Of course, I had to tell him no I didn't, and he didn't seem to believe me and told me he'd have me strung up if it turned out I was lying to him. But I was telling the truth! Will you tell him so? I wouldn't want to be strung up." Her prattling seemed endless.

Marion raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged. "Horace won't harm you, you have my word."

"Oh, thank you, mistress, I was so worried, that man frightens me. Men shouldn't be like that if you ask me, all sweet-smelling and soft and fat and ugly." She glanced at Marion as she said this. It did not escape my attention that she was half-biting her lip.

"Thank you, Doreen."

"Of course, mistress." She didn't leave.

"That was a dismissal," I told her, coldly.

Her eyes widened, stupidly. "Oh! I'll be going, then."

Marion chuckled as she left, tearing off a chunk of bread. "Why, you almost seem fond of her."

"Whatever." I grabbed the bowl and began spooning heaps of stew into my mouth. The rich flavor was heady, the stock savory and seasoned with parsley and rosemary. It settled in my empty stomach like a weight. "Are you going to leave soon?"

"Oh, soon enough," he replied amiably, cutting a slab of cheese with his dagger. "I'll want to report my success to the Order as soon as possible. They'll want to take the spoils and all."

"Perhaps you could send them for our horses as well."

"Good idea. You really were in a hurry to get out of there, weren't you? Had enough of the outdoors?" He popped the cheese into his mouth, smacking his lips.

"You could say so." I took his dagger and cut a thick slice of bread for myself, mopping up a bit of stew with it.

"Well, at least our tale had a happy ending."

"Yes." I narrowed my eyes at him. "You did slay a great evil, after all."

He replied around a mouthful of bread and cheese. "Oh, yes. I'm quite the hero."

"I never asked, did the thing put up any resistance? Give you much of a fight?"

"Not really, no."

"Liar." I put down the earthenware and wiped my mouth with my sleeve, glaring at him. "Even a half-dead cockatrice should have been a tough adversary. That thing was the real deal. It ought to have petrified you with a mere glance."

"Why, Thistle," he said, reaching to the bowl and taking a chunk of tender beef between his thumb and forefinger. "Did you really think the eyes of a cockatrice would faze me, after enduring your barbed stares all day long?"

The corners of my mouth twitched. I laughed. He laughed with me. We finished our dinner together.

***

That night, I sat alone in my bath, water cooling against my bare skin as I pondered my adventure. The cockatrice had been sickly, and dying already. That much was clear. Had Marion done it? And why, if so? For that matter, why was a cockatrice attacking a merchant's caravans? As far as I knew, they thought like wild beasts; they bore no personal vendettas nor did they maintain treasure hordes like dragons. And we had found no evidence of the missing wares. Many questions remained unanswered.

The oil lamp in the room had sputtered out, leaving me with nothing but shadows for company. I sighed and dipped my head below the water. My hair floated to the surface around me, a mass of silky brown atop the clear bathwater. After a few moments suspended in empty darkness, I surfaced, closing my eyes and pushing wet hair back out of my face.

"It's rather fetching when you do that, you know." A voice sounded from the end of the chamber. I shrieked, covering my bare breasts with my hands.

It was Marion. "Come now, what's with the false modesty? I thought we were past that."

I stood, still holding my breasts, and grabbed the linen cloth hanging on the wardrobe, wrapping it about myself. I was acutely aware of the way it barely reached my thighs and left the tops of my breasts naked to his eyes. "I thought I sent you on your way. Have you been creeping on me this whole time?"

"I was on my way. Then, it occurred to me I had forgotten to give you a goodbye kiss."

"What makes you think I wanted one?"

He came to me, crossing the room in long, easy strides, and my breath quickened. His large frame dwarfed my small one, and his dark eyes shone with hunger. Droplets of bathwater clung to my bare skin, moisture darkening my cheeks, my lips, my cleavage.

"Thistle." He took my chin in his large hand and titled my head up to his, the emerald-green of my eyes meeting the deep brown of his. "Your lips were made to be kissed. Your breasts were meant to be touched, and your cunt, well...." He ripped the linen away from my body, baring the whole of me to him. His dark gaze washed over me, eyes half-lidded in lust. "You were made to be fucked."

I stood there, naked before his hungry eyes, hair still-wet and gleaming. "You're not as stupid as you seem, are you? There are enchantments set at my door, wards against intruders. No ordinary man could have crossed the threshold without my knowing."

He only grinned. "Yes. Have I passed your test, then? I mean to claim my reward." And he kissed me.

I kissed him back, slipping my tongue into his mouth and winding my arms around his neck. He threaded a hand through my damp hair and grasped my ass with the other. My small breasts pressed against his tunic, nipples hard against his sturdy chest. I nipped at his lower lip. "Take your shirt off."

He did, and I ran my hands over the hard muscles of his chest, brushing my thumbs across his abdomen. I tilted my head up for another kiss, and he bent his head to mine as I pushed my fingers into the front of his trousers. He was hard as a rock already, cock jumping eagerly in my palm. He growled against my lips and pushed away from me, holding onto my elbows. I was breathing heavily, small breasts heaving, moisture still hugging my bare skin. He picked me up easily, my petite body like a toy in his arms, and slung me over his shoulder. I gasped. It hadn't been this erotic when he'd done it earlier.

He threw me into my bed, and I bounced slightly against the feather mattress. Climbing in after me, he took me by the waist and flipped me over so that I faced away from him, the sleek curves of my back and buttocks elegant against the silk duvet. I could sense his tall frame hovering over me, his breath hot in my ear. He kissed my shoulder, my neck, nipped at my earlobe, and caressed my back with a large hand, stroking the soft skin and reaching down to squeeze the cheeks of my ass. I mumbled nonsense into the pillow, arousal clutching me completely.

He grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face firmly against the mattress. I could feel his hard cock pressing against the soft skin of my thigh and squirmed against it, wishing desperately for him to fuck me. He chuckled, lightly. "Is there something you want, Thistle?"

"Bastard."

"Am I, really?"

"No," I gasped. "Just fuck me, Marion. Please fuck me."

"Good girl," he whispered, and my insides turned to water. He took his length and positioned it at my entrance, brushing it against my outer lips and making me shudder with anticipation. Then, he entered me. It was sweet, so sweet, and he pushed deeper and deeper, making me whimper his name against the mattress. I could hear his moan from behind me. "God, Thistle, you're so fucking tight." He buried his length to the hilt, stretching me like never before, and as he slowly pulled out, my cunt gripping him all the way, his absence made me whine with desire. He pushed himself back in, and we both moaned at the feeling, our voices mingling in the night.

Marion began to fuck me in earnest, pounding me furiously into the mattress. I gripped him like a vice as he pummeled me, making him howl with pure, animal lust. I lifted my head from the duvet to scream his name, but a large hand covered the back of my head and pushed me forcefully back, leaving my moans muffled by the featherbed. He fell against me, gripping me by the shoulders as his large body crushed my petite one into the bedframe. His head nuzzled against the crook of my neck, and I felt the grazing of his teeth against the skin of my earlobe.

He kept fucking me like that for a while, squashing my body beneath his as his cock pumped in and out of me. My moans turned into incoherent gasps and squeaks, and my world was reduced to the feeling of his cock stretching against my walls. Finally, he gave a sudden hiss and leaned back, the absence of his body over mine making me gasp. He slapped my ass, hard, his large hand leaving a bruise on the cheek. It was enough. I came with a great shriek and shudder, my cunt suddenly awash with juices. He followed shortly after, taking his cock out and spurting great ropes of cum over my back with a shout. We came down from our high together, and he held me tightly against his chest, whispering my name into my still-damp hair.

We stayed like that for a while, his softening cock resting against my thigh.

"Do you still need my blood?" The words came as a murmur some time later, as my eyelids had begun to droop and a deep languor had suffused my tired body.

I yawned. "In the morning," I responded, sleepily.

I fell asleep against him.

When I woke up, he was gone, the only remnants of his presence a slight imprint in the duvet and a soreness between my thighs.