Talisman Ch. 1: Tallus Hostilus Ursus

Tallus thought about that. “Perhaps, you might.”

“I am sorry, Beithir, I didn’t know you had company.” Brigid swept into the room with a flash of red hair and white linen.

“Don’t concern yourself, Brigid. He was just leaving.” Tallus picked up his stylus and tapped it on the paper. The woman had better take the hint or she would regret it. He wanted no interference.

She was a dense as a field of heather. She came to stand beside him, her arms clasped in front of her and a smile as bright as her hair pasted on her face. “I am Brigid.”

Gaius stood and bowed. “I am Gaius Laurentius.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Gaius. Tallus has told me that you are his son.”

Gaius looked shocked. “He has?”

“Perhaps you would like to--”

“No, he would not. Gaius is leaving. Now.” Tallus stood, his voice harsh.

Brigid kicked his shin, though Gaius took the hint. “I must be going now. I shall speak with you later, Tallus. And thank you.”

The boy had the wit to leave immediately after.

Brigid turned on him. “Are you mad? It was the perfect chance for you to get know your son.”

“I will see him around camp, Brigid. Go take your bath. I will join you shortly.”

“We will discuss this, Roman.” With a last glare in his direction, she went into the other room for her nightly bath.

He would have to do something about that woman. This interference in his affairs would not be tolerated. He went back to the plan he was working on and scratched at it for as long as he could. That was it, she had ruined his concentration. He threw down the stylus and stomped to his bed. He threw his armor off and shrugged into his robe.

Behind a screen, Brigid splashed water and hummed to herself. The sound wound its way through the room and he found himself smiling. She had a soft voice and a horrible melody.

The first thing he noticed when he stepped around the screen was the deep, earthy red color of her wet hair. Beneath it the skin of her back shone like the ivory of Venus’s medallion. It bumped at his chest when he stopped. He wrapped his fingers around it and simply stared. When was the last time he’d seen her in her bath? It had been too long.

She stood in the tub and wiggled with each stroke of her scented soap over her skin. Her rump shimmied with the off key humming of some bawdy song she must have picked up in the market. He had appreciated the sight of a woman’s posterior as she walked away, what man hadn’t? But this, this was different. More exciting somehow. She danced just for him, and she was blissfully naked of everything but water.

The urge to join her was so strong he took a silent step forward. He froze when she dropped the soap, and then stopped breathing when she bent to pick it up. Her cleft was revealed with a flash of red and then hidden when she straightened. Her cheeks curved upwards, keeping what lay between still secret. It was a secret he suddenly burned to know.

He shook himself and backed away before he gave in and touched her. A female ass was for grabbing, to pull her more fully onto a man’s shaft when she rode him. Only men who had a taste for other men were interested in the ass in any other way. Still, he’d heard rumors. Whispers in the barracks of certain whores who would let a man plow her back field and the groanings of pleasure that accompanied such tales.

Before he could stop himself, he fetched the small bottle of olive oil that had come with his supper. The medallion slapped his chest with every step, reminding him of her ivory buttocks and what lay between them. Any man would think only of her vagina, but he wasn’t any man. He’d never considered such a thing, didn’t know why he was considering it now, but he knew that he would try it. With her. There would be no loose whore for him, only Brigid. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her.

“Beithir?”

“Come here.”

She knotted the drying sheet firmly around her breasts and came to him immediately. How he loved her utter lack of fear of him. “You are ready to continue our discussion, then.”

He pulled the sheet off of her. “No.”

“What has gotten into you? Three nights in a row? This is not like you.”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” He reached up and cupped her breasts, thumbing the soft nipples. She slid her hands into his hair, massaging his scalp with her nails. He pressed kisses along her belly, then pulled her into his lap. “Lie down.”

Smiling, she eased herself onto her back and spread her legs when he moved to climb between them. He wanted to kiss her, to tease her nipples into full hardness, test the new resilience in her belly, but he had no patience for that. He wanted her mindless enough to seduce her into giving him her ass. Something she had probably never even conceived of. With that end in mind, he went directly for her sex.

He slid his hand along her body, following the generous curves of her torso, and palmed one of her breasts again. He used the fingers of his other hand to part her lower lips. She moaned and tilted her hips upward. Only one time and she wanted more. He wormed his tongue into her entrance, the lips wrapping wetly around his mouth. It was like being kissed by the very core of her body.

He lapped at her clitoris, pressing two fingers into her. She liked that, he knew. Her sheath sucked at his fingers and her hips moved as if she were mating with his tongue. He eased a little farther back along the bed. He drew one of her lips into his mouth and tasted all of it. His thumb touched the top of her slit and rubbed at her clitoris. He swiped the broad side of his tongue over the full length of her, savoring the taste of her love juice.

Lifting his head, he watched his fingers work their magic on her, bringing more wetness to her swollen sex. Just below that he could see the tightly closed hole winking at him. He had thought that such a thing would be revolting, but it was fascinating. Her sheath spasmed around his fingers with a judicious swirl of his thumb, and her forbidden hole winked at him. It was so small, tiny. He had no idea how his cock would fit into it without hurting her; he simply knew, deep within himself, that it was possible.

He rolled his tongue through her lips again and then surprised the both of them by running it over her anus. She froze a moment, he could almost feel the arousal leeching out of her, then relaxed when he returned to her sex. Then he did it again. Once could be called an accident, but twice was not. Particularly when his tongue lingered, wiggling against the tiny depression.

“Beithir, no, do not--” Her protest ended with a cry when he gave her clitoris quick, light strokes with a finger. He knew it felt too good for her to muster any more protests.

He didn’t know how, but he simplyknew.

He kept teasing her backside with his tongue, licking and sliding the tip almost within. Between licks he painted her little hole with the wetness from her pussy, and then licking it up. Rising a bit, he returned his mouth to her clitoris, sucking gently and then laving it. His finger circled her nether hole and then penetrated it.

“No!” She wrenched her hips, nearly throwing him off. He clamped an arm over her lower belly and pressed his finger all the way inside. The tightness was incredible. She squeezed his finger like her sheath squeezed his cock, only tighter. The muscles clamped around him, holding him. He redoubled his oral assault on her clitoris, vowing to make her like it.

When she relaxed against him, accepting his little intruder, he started to move it. Blindly, he reached for the olive oil beside the bed and doused his hand in it. It sluiced against her buttocks and made a mess around the hole. The slickness made penetration easier and far more pleasurable. She wiggled, testing the sensation of his finger moving inside of her ass. Gently, he introduced another. She squealed, either in pain, pleasure, or both; he couldn’t tell. She didn’t protest.

One hand seduced her ass, his lips wrestled with her clitoris, and his other hand worked oil onto the full length of his cock. He matted his pubic hair with it and slathered more of it on her ass. The blankets were covered with it. He pulled his fingers from her backside and grabbed his cock with them. The oily hand went to her sex, spreading it all over her. He touched the tip of his cock to her ass, sliding it into the puckered depression. Holding himself steady, his thumb working her clitoris like mad, he bunched the muscles in his own ass and pushed. Hard.

She screamed, and not in pleasure. The head of his cock broke through the tight ring of muscle, but no further.

“It hurts,” she whined. An exact echo of what she had done when he broke her hymen.

Then, he hadn’t cared for her opinion on the matter, now he wanted her acquiescence. “Do you want me to take it out?”

He leaned over, grunting with the effort to hold himself back. The medallion slid down the slope of one of her breasts. She looked into his eyes, her expression tinged with pain and full of trust. “No.”

“I will be gentle, Brigid.”

She smiled and touched his cheek. “I have never heard of such a thing, a man putting his, his,--”

“Cock.”

She blushed. “His cock. There.”

“I had never considered it until I saw you bend over in the tub.”

Her eyes dropped to his chest and her blush deepened. “It does not hurt quite so much now.”

“I cannot move yet.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, Brigid. If I move I will explode like a boy. You are so tight. Hot. Ahhh, don’t do that.” Her ass squeezed him and his body jerked. She hissed with the new inch of shaft. “Hold still.”

He found her clitoris again, gratified to feel her ass flare and then tighten with the touch. He rubbed easy circles one way and then the next. Feathery caresses had her tight, anal passage relaxing enough for him to slowly thrust fully into her.

“How does it feel?”

“It's different.”

“Do you like it?”

She blushed again. “Aye. I like it, Roman.”

“So do I.”

She met his eyes again, bold and shy all at the same time. “Fuck me, Beithir.”

The coarse word from her excited him like nothing else she could have said. His hips jerked and he found that it only made her gasp in pleasure. He moved slowly at first, sliding back a little and then pressing all the way in again.

He couldn’t resist and leaned back for a look. Her buttocks were tilted upwards enough that he could see his cock sliding in and out of her. There was something about watching himself thrusting into her while her sex remained empty.

“Harder!” she ordered.

He grabbed her hips, and moved faster. When she begged for more he gave into his own craving and rode her ass as hard as he dared. She was panting and crying beneath him, writhing against him to take more of him. Inside she was hot enough to melt him and tight enough to rasp every portion of his cock with her softness. It was nearly too much, his head was swimming and all he could hear was the roar of his blood and the obscene slap of his thighs against her buttocks.

She threw his hand away from her sex and used her own fingers on her own clitoris. He had never seen a woman do that before, had never cared to. Her hips surged, swallowing his cock whole. He threw his head back and roared, shooting deep inside of her.

With the last bit of energy he had left, he eased himself beside her and closed his eyes. She tangled her arms and legs with his, and remained mercifully silent. Her deep and even breathing indicated that she’d fallen asleep. He made a mental note of that, when he desired a peaceful sleep, plow her back field.

Brigid had insisted on cleaning the bedding herself as soon as she woke to see the oil all over the place. She was appalled to think that someone might discover that she was a lusty woman who enjoyed herself in bed. Amused, he watched her scuttled off with the laundry and sat at his desk. He hadn’t felt this good since, well he couldn’t remember.

Paullus trotted through the doorway, out of breath. “Praefectus, Gaius has a message. He requests that you meet him behind the armory. He says that he must speak with you immediately about his grandfather and one of your men.”

Assassin flew immediately to mind. He was suddenly terrified for his son’s life. He knew that Lutorius would have no difficulty murdering his own kin. “Find Brigid and stay with her until I return.”

The walk to the armory had never taken him longer. He moved around the side of the building, out of sight of the few people around the fort at this time of day. "Gaius?"

“Father.” Gaius stepped from the shadows. “One of your men is with my grandfather’s household. I had not seen him until moments ago.”

“Calm yourself, Gaius. This is not the first time your grandfather has sent an assassin and it likely won’t be the last. Which man was it?”

“This one,” he said, thrusting a short sword directly toward his father‘s belly.

Years of battle had given Tallus nearly a sixth sense of sorts. Perhaps it was merely luck or the Fates. He twisted his body, the sword glancing off his armor and slicing through his sword arm. He plucked his own sword from its sheath, instinctively swinging it. Gaius raised his blade and parried the stroke that would have taken off his head.

“Why are you doing this?” Tallus roared, blocking a fresh attack.

“You have no right to be alive, you bastard. You left me, destroyed my mother, and you have the power to destroy my grandfather.”

Tallus backed up, blocking thrusts and swings as he went. Somehow, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to strike down Gaius. His own son. The boy was no fighter, he struck with neither grace nor style. It would be simple to get him into the open and disarmed.

Shouts of alarm reached his ears as men came running. A high pitched shriek rent the air. “Beithir!”

“Be a man,father, have the decency to finally die.” He swung the sword and stabbed with a short knife.

Tallus could only see Brigid running toward him, her hair flashing and all the blood leeched from her face. He blocked the first blow and nearly missed the second. Women make men weak, distracted.

“Beithir!”

“Die, damn you!” Gaius roared, hacking at him.

One of his men caught Brigid before she could throw herself onto Gaius and pulled her to safety. She turned on him, screeching like a madwoman.

“When I’m done with you, I’m going to kill your Celtic bitch, too. I want no half breed brothers stirring up trouble, demanding my inheritance.”

The thought of Brigid dead was unthinkable. With a roar that matched Brigid’s in sheer ferocity, he swung at Gaius. His first swing was knocked aside, but his next clipped the boy’s shoulder. The final blow took off his head.

Tallus stepped back, watching the body slowly slump to the ground. Uncontrolled fury was slowly replaced with uncontrolled guilt. He lost control, a warrior never lost his head in a fight. He took a deep shuddering breath and sought out Brigid. Her eyes, full of fear, held his. He threw his sword onto the ground beside his son and stormed away.

Hadrian’s Wall, standing stoically in the heat of the day, greeted him with the smell of grass and the swirl of a breeze. He put his hands on the stone, needing the cool comfort it always brought. All he found was cold stone.

“Beithir.”

“Go away, Brigid.”

“No.” Hesitantly, she sidled up to him.

“I am in no mood for your interrogations, woman. Return to our quarters.”

“Hush, Roman. You speak too much.” She rested her warm palm on his arm.

The gentleness of her touch warmed him, bringing a serenity with it. He took a deep breath and let himself lean on her a little. “I have been meaning to ask. What does beithir mean?”

“I like it here.”

“Brigid.”

She looked down at her feet. “You must promise that you won’t be angry.”

“It had better not mean something ridiculous.”

“It means wild beast, perhaps a snake, sometimes a bear.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “Ah, Brigid, you’re precious.”

She snuggled up against him and his wall and smiled. Here was his solace.