Uprooted - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Zaent steepled his long, slender fingers. It was a chill evening, and Alyssa had the fire burning hot and bright. It cast a sweet smell from a few cedar chips thrown in, and lit the room in flickering shadows. He glanced in the mirror over the mantel. Hmm. I look pretty brooding right now. He tried arching his eyebrows, scowling, tilting his head forward. Yes. Damned brooding.

He heard Alyssa padding out of the kitchen. He glanced down at her bare feet again, wondering once more why in the Seven Darks he found that so cute. Then he scanned the platter of roast... some kind of bird, and gave her his new Brooding Look. Once again she started and looked down to avoid his gaze, then put the platter on the table between them.

He reached forward and tore off a drumstick, then began to devour it immediately. She seated herself and went to follow suit, but drew back her fingers with a hiss. She stared at him wide-eyed. "How, how do you eat that? It just came out of the oven, aren't you burning yourself?"

He tried to fix her with his new Brooding Look again but couldn't stop his lip from curling up in a grin. No wonder he was supposed to stay celibate. As soon as he'd achieved release with her, his self-discipline had dissolved.

"Magician, Alyssa," he mumbled around a mouth full of bird. He reached out and stroked a finger down the other drumstick, then flicked his hand toward the fire and swallowed. "Go ahead, 's cool now."

They ate, largely, in silence. He took time to examine the room he was in. Heavy walls and hardwood floors. Cozy. A good mirror, a few real glass windows, now shuttered. She hadn't been lying, her father must be far better off than the average farmer. Well, he had been. It's hard to be very well off if you're locked up in the dungeon.

Mostly Zaent liked to look around the room because he could catch Alyssa staring at him whenever he looked away from her. The subtle dynamics of human relations were not something he had studied at the University, and that was where he'd spent most of his life. They taught the upper-level wizards all about politics and intrigue, of course, but he'd been kicked out long before that happened. No matter. He knew nervousness, and weakness, and eagerness to please. He saw these in Alyssa.

She was taking good care of him, too. His wounds were healing rapidly, probably thanks to her poultice. He'd tried using a spell to speed it up, but he wasn't sure it had worked. It was a simple one, really, and would only increase his natural healing rate. His lack of extensive knowledge regarding spells was really crippling him. Good thing he'd been top of his class at Sorcery...failing all else he could always just blow stuff up until something happened...

"...to do it?" Shit. Alyssa had been talking to him. Something about a plan.

He looked right into her eyes again, to set her off her game. She glanced down and blushed, it really did work every time. He took a nice long look at her cleavage, then wiped his hands off on his robes and reached forward to take her wrist. He stroked up and down her forearm while he spoke.

"Ah, sweet Alyssa. I can work with exceptional celerity when the situation warrants such. We are blessed with bountiful time to synthesize a scheme." His mind was racing now. He had to tell her something. But the sooner he got her father out of the hoosegow, the sooner he'd no longer be alone with her. That morning, sleeping in her bed all wrapped up together had been one of the closest things to heaven he'd ever experienced. His hands had roamed freely up and down her naked body while she murmured, half-asleep. Every square inch of her skin was smoother than cream, and he caught the scent of lilacs when he buried his face in her hair...Shit, she was talking again and he'd better pay attention this time.

Tears welled up in her deep, dark eyes and she was close to sobbing. "...and I know he hasn't gone to trial yet, but they torture people down there! It's the weekend now, but tomorrow the mills should be running and he won't be around to tell our workers what to do! What if they cheat us, I have no idea how to run anything!" She was openly crying now. But she'd just given Zaent his in.

"Hmm. No, we can't have your employees purloining the product." They were leaning over the table to each other now, their heads nearly touching. His hand was openly stroking up and down her arm, Gods it was so soft... "I feel more than well enough to go out about the town tomorrow. We'll arrange an appearance at your family business, and then go terrify your tyrannical taxman."

She slowly scooted around the table and sat down next to him. She was hesitant as she pressed against his side and leaned her head on him. He wanted her so badly, how did she not see it? No matter...it was better that the balance of power favor him for now. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She spoke softly, "Master Cheeb, the tax collector, has never been known to be afraid of anything on this earth. He's older now, but it's said that in his younger days he'd knock down any five men that crossed him. People say he once killed an ogre with his bare hands when he was making his rounds about the outer villages. How will you do it?"

Zaent doubted any local official here had ever slain an ogre, but took her point. "With sorcery. Subtle, or somewhat less so, as seems to suit the situation." He shrugged, then continued. "Even the most puissant of pugilists cannot protect themselves from my power. We'll find what frightens him, only a fool fears nothing." And I'd damn well better do it without giving him a chance to hit me, he thought. His answer, or more likely his confidence in it, seemed to calm her. She relaxed against him, and tilted her head away from him when he started to lean down and kiss her neck. Her breath was warm and gentle across his shoulder. He flicked his tongue over the soft flesh behind her ear and she shivered.

Suddenly he wrapped both his arms around her and tensed up, pulling her from her seat and spilling the both of them back into the overstuffed green armchair that he'd developed such an affection for. His side and arm hurt sharply when he did this, but the pain soon faded and it didn't seem he'd reopened the wounds. May the Gods damn all orcs, he thought. I wish I'd only maimed them so I could go back and kill them some more.

Alyssa was kneeling in the chair, straddling him. She didn't seem forward enough to kiss him yet, but she was leaning her head on his shoulder and exposing her neck for more of his attentions. Zaent brushed her hair out of the way and started to caress her with his lips. As he worked his way down her collarbone, and her breasts, to the top of her dress, he realized his hands were still entwined in her long black hair. It was so soft and thick, he thought he could play with it forever.

They lay like that for nearly an hour. Soon enough Alyssa became confident enough to lean down and kiss him full on the lips without him initiating it. One by one their various articles of clothing ended up tossed aside, onto the floor or another chair. Zaent would touch and caress her for what seemed like forever, sucking gently at the most sensitive parts of her, working his way up and down until he arrived at someplace that was covered in fabric.

Then they would shift positions as he loosened or unbuttoned something, sliding it out of the way or removing it entirely. His own garments gradually came off as well, he couldn't stand having his rough traveling clothes between his own body and hers.

Eventually they were naked in each other's arms. The cool night air raised goosebumps on Zaent's left, the fire to his right kept that side toasty warm. It was no matter to him. He'd suffered far worse than uneven heating on the way here. Alyssa kept trying to cuddle her cooler side against him, but there was always some space on her body left exposed.

He didn't mind. His rock-hard erection was trapped between her gently squirming thighs and soft belly as she tried to work her way ever-closer to him. His hands roamed freely up and down her back, and under the curve of her ass. Once he started to suck in fullness at her breasts she seemed to warm up just fine on her own. Zaent was determined to take his time, this second time around with her. He instinctively knew that if he was to possess her completely, as he desperately wanted to do, that he would have to drive her into a near-frenzy.

He left no part of her breasts unattended. He reached up to squeeze them and expose the underside to his mouth. Her pussy was by now leaving areas of slight moisture on the tops of his thighs, and he pressed one against her. She obligingly rubbed herself back and forth against the big muscle in the top of it.

She had started making sweet little mewling sounds again, and he grabbed her ass and pulled her toward him. She now had her crotch pressed against his hard shaft, and he scooted down under her. Her lips parted around him and he found himself pinned between the two of them.

She worked her hips back and forth, sawing her clit up and down his length. The sensation was exquisite, overpowering, and he at first thought he was at last inside her. Her wetness and softness had seemed to engulf him, but when he looked down he could barely see his head, peeking out from under her. He leaned back and sighed in ecstasy as she rode him. It seemed just fine anyway.

He relaxed into the chair and wrapped his arms around her. His hands fell naturally down to support her lower back, just above the curve of her hips. She was doing all the work now and he let her continue. Alyssa was embracing him tightly around the shoulders and her breath was hot, moist, and fast at his ear. She was softly whimpering, "oh, oh, oh, oh, oh," very rapidly, in time with the movements of her body.

He slid his hands up and down her back, and she suddenly tensed up and kissed him. He felt so warm. Her soft, full lips were pressed against his, and their tongues wrestled urgently together. Her full breasts and hard nipples pressed into his chest and she rubbed them against him.

Alyssa was tensing up, and pressing herself harder against him. Her soft lower belly and the heat and wetness of her pussy seemed to engulf him, and he throbbed with need. He no longer cared if he was inside her or not... She seemed anxious to please him, and he found he enjoyed pleasuring her as well. With a hot meal inside him, and the sweet, lilac smell of her hair filling his nose, he found that he was honestly happy where he was. Her body ground against him in what seemed like more than just lust, and Zaent felt wanted at last.

He reached up to touch her face, his hands cradling it and stroking her hair back. One hand stayed below her jaw and he moved the other to the back of her head, resting it at the base of her skull. This unexpected tenderness had a strong effect on Alyssa, and she thrust her hips against his and cried out in his mouth.

He worked his tongue into her mouth and enjoyed the sensation of her climaxing against him. Alyssa was shaking now, and the motion of her pussy over his head was driving him over the edge. He saw no reason to hold back and gave in to the tension in his balls. He could feel squirt after squirt coating her belly. She didn't draw back or seem startled, but reveled in their simultaneous orgasms.

After a long time, she quieted and collapsed against him. Her hair spilled over his chest her hands rested lightly on his shoulders. He stared at the fire and stroked her as she seemingly fell asleep in his arms. With a wave of his hand, his cloak glided over from a chair and covered them both.

Zaent's training as a magician kicked in. He examined his mental state with the precision and incisiveness of a clockmaker. The play of firelight over the soft curve of her hips entranced him. Her slow, sleepy breath in his ear was better than any music. There was no finer blanket than her body draped over his. "Alyssa."

She returned only a gentle murmur in response. "I...I'm beginning to like you. I like you a lot," he said.

She made no answer. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he might have felt gentle tears hit his collarbone. He might have been dreaming.

The End