The Wicked Tower Pt. 04

"What?" Merope's olive skin blanched. She recoiled and stood up straight. "I ... oh ... you got the spoon. Good." And without thinking she turned and ran from the room, leaving the door open behind her.

"You forgot the dishes." Brynhild called after her, but the girl didn't reappear. "Very strange." She straightened and dropped the spoon onto a dish with a clatter. She then turned and strode to the window to think things over. Raising her left hand, she extinguished the light again. In the growing darkness she looked out over the port, taking in the purple water of the Inland Sea at night. A spell had returned to her and Cupid had struck in the span of minutes. She would need to give up on the search for a reversal. At least for a time. First, she had to figure out what in the fire of Hades was happening.

~~

They would wait until returning to Ostia Novus to continue their games. That's what Vel and Naevia told each other time and again for a day. Then, the plan changed. It was Naevia that first suggested that they might find some privacy in Kart Hadasht. That was a crazy thought, to defy the gods while searching for their good and decent father. Nonetheless, they made a pact to wait for privacy in the new city. But they probably should not have shook on it. For after the warmth spread from Vel's hand, Naevia changed the plan again. She dragged her brother from their cabin and pulled him, stooping behind her, in search of a place they wouldn't be disturbed.

That is how, a day out from their destination, Vel found himself seated on a crate with his sister on her knees before him. Vel could hear the cooing of pigeons from somewhere else in the hold. His tunic was up around his chest, his linen undergarment around one ankle, and his robes spread. Naevia sill wore her stola as her head bobbed in his lap.

"Every time ... is better ... than the last." Vel touched her magnificent copper curls, but tentatively moved his hand away.

Naevia felt the touch and pulled off him for a moment, her hands still sliding up and down his great length. "I would like that, you know." She looked up at him with a dreamy smile, a dribble of spit running down her chin.

"What?" Vel was eager to hear the next suggestion. Going down on her had been a miraculous pleasure for both of them, what could be next?

"You could hold on to my hair while I do this for you. Not too hard." She took one of his big hands and guided it to the back of her head. "Yes, grasp it like that. Wait ... too much. Yeah, that's good. It lets me know that you like it. Show me that -- ggggggppppphhhhh." It seemed her brother was a quick study. He had gently pushed her mouth back onto his cock and set her rhythm with his hand. The cockhead pushed at the back of her throat and she gagged a little, but Vel backed off. After a few seconds, he had measured her depth, and guided her bobbing mouth. Her tongue rolled around the monstrous thing and she delighted in how mismatched in size her mouth was to Vel's anatomy. It only barely fit, but that tight window was perfection. As he deftly pulled her hair, she remembered their dancing lessons from years ago. Her gentle brother had taken surprisingly well to offering a lead, and with an arm on her back he had twirled her around the hall, both of them laughing. That was back when they were more similar in size.

"I'm close ... Naevia." Vel knew by now how much Naevia enjoyed swallowing those first hot splashes before it overwhelmed her. Nevertheless, he thought it polite to ask, "Where should I ... ugh ... finish?"

"Uuuuuuupppphhhh." She pumped harder on the shaft below her mouth, squeezing the spongy flesh tightly.

Vel understood. "Here ... it is ... Naevia." He groaned and let loose.

When he was done, Naevia crawled into her brother's lap, curled up, and sighed. His still-hard penis was tucked against her belly. "I believe in magic less now than before our voyage." She watched cum drip from her chin onto his pale belly. The boat rocked gently below them and the pigeons cooed.

"Have I not proven my curse?" Vel reached down and absently patted her stola above the curve of her hip.

"Don't be silly." She felt the heat come up from him and sink into her being. It was the most natural thing in the world, an extension of what they always were. "We were meant for this, you and I. Our brother Fortinbras surely knew. He said as much. Bantia has hinted at it. Even Mother has stated some displeasure at our ... closeness. Are you the only one not to see?"

"I thought it was innocent and natural."

She looked up at him with disapproval on her cum splattered face. "This is natural. The most natural thing in the world, do you not feel how right this is?" She uncoiled in his lap, lifted her stola past her waist, and sat astride him, his cock sticking up between her legs and bouncing against her belly button with his pulse. She rubbed herself for the first time against the underside of his penis. Her button caught each vein on the way up and down beautifully.

"Yes. It is natural, but ... oh ... gods," Vel said.

While rubbing herself, she reached down and placed her hands on his cockhead. She twisted and rubbed with her fingers, using his leftover cum for lubrication.

"You can't ... put it in." Vel could feel her hot, wet lips slapping at his balls every time she hit bottom.

That brought a shimmer of a smile to her otherwise vacant face. "I am not crazy, Your Grace. I know better than that. My future husband might not believe me ... uh ... uh ... to be a virgin if I was stretched beyond ruin by your ... leviathan. Can you ... ah ... ah ... imagine that scandal? Besides ... it would ... ugh ... never fit." She rubbed herself on him, worked his head, and watched the happiness spread on his face. "I'm going to ... ugh ..." Her hips moved faster. "Kiss me ... or I'll scream." She leaned forward and tilted her chin up. They locked lips. His penis now pressed between their bellies. It was a good thing she had her tongue in his mouth, because otherwise the ship would certainly wonder who was screaming bloody murder when her climax took her.

~~

For the first time in days, Brynhild ventured out of her chambers. She was still dressed to hide her body from the world, which was, of course, an oddity for her. It was the women of the Surround that were so modest with their tame stolas. The women of the North were not afraid to be seen. But now she was. No other old spells had returned to her left hand in the hours since she'd conjured her ball of light. But she remained optimistic. For the first time since the wind had tricked her, things were looking up.

Brynhild walked through the kitchens, sweeping past the cooks who looked up at her stature and complexion with some modicum of fear. The smells of baking bread and roast venison were pleasant, but not much of a distraction. She found the scullery and poked her head in. A man washed dishes in a sink. Beside him, a large pot of water was coming to a boil.

"Hello there, boy." Brynhild said this, despite the fact that the man clearly looked older than her. "I'm looking for a woman about this high." She held her hand to about her navel. "She has dark hair, brown skin, dark eyes, and she's rather round."

"Yes, mistress." Nicias stood still, but his eyes darted back and forth. He tried his best not to stare up into her face. "But ... you see ... you have described most women from the Surround."

"She forgot to fetch my dishes last night and they sit there still this morning." She looked to his left hand and saw the iron ring there. "And she is married."

"Um ... I'm very sorry about your dishes, mistress." Nicias's eyes darted more fervently. "I'll have someone fetch them right away."

"I don't care about dishes, little man." Brynhild moved closer to the man, looking down at him with something akin to anger. But it was of course only a show. She so loved to make people squirm. "Where is that woman?"

"That is my wife, Merope, that you seek." He stuck out his chest and did the bravest thing in his life. "I am Nicias. If you seek to punish someone, punish me."

"I seek to punish no one, friend Nicias." Brynhild finally let her laughter out. "I only wish to speak with her."

Nicias heaved a huge sigh of relief. "She's in the bath, cleaning."

"Thank you." Brynhild turned and left the scullery, her cloak twirling behind her.

~~

In the prow of the ship, Vel and Naevia stood arm in arm. They watched the tan city rise out of the water as they tacked against the wind. Spires rose up here and there, but most seemed in the middle of construction. Vel knew that the structures were actually in the opposite process. Without magic, the great towering spires of Kart Hadasht could no longer withstand the pressure of standing. But as they crumpled, they were too dangerous to tear down. So, the towers still stood as shadows of what they once were, slowly raining stones back to the earth.

"It is so different from Ostia Novus." Naevia squeezed his billowing cloak around the small of his back. She did this in what she hoped was a sisterly fashion since they no doubt had many sailors' eyes on them where they stood. "There is no blue or gray stone. Even the sea is more green than blue here." She glanced along the lower skyline, watching the buildings that were still in use. "And everything here has curves."

"It does." Vel rested his arm loosely around Naevia's delicate shoulders. He looked down at her and admired the way she looked with her hair flying back in the wind. "It will be good to have a rest in some private room. Don't you think?"

Naevia grinned, but did not look up at him. Instead, she kept her eyes on the growing city. How odd that the place they would find their father would be the place her and her brother could play their new games without fear of discovery.

"Ho, hey, Tulliuses." Dellia strode up to them and placed her foot on the taffrail. She wore only a tunic and sandals, but did not seem to care that she looked like a man. "We should ready ourselves. You have no guard but two meek women, cousin." She looked at Vel with a wry smile that belied the word meek. "And such a dark and foul city will dish out danger with alacrity."

"The city looks pretty enough to me," Vel said.

Naevia gave him another squeeze for his naivety. "I look pretty enough, but my arrows do bite."

"And my husband thinks me pleasant to look at, but there are men who wish they hadn't met my sword." Dellia leaned forward, pressing her arms to her knee. "It's time for armor and weapons. Let's hope the viscount sends the men he promised. I do not want to carry my own luggage." With that, she turned, gave Vel a slap on the back, and strode back across the deck.

Vel and Naevia stayed where they were, watching the city in silence, still arm in arm. They had a moment more before readying for the next leg of their journey.