Stics & Stones

How could I have been that stupid? How could I? Deirdre lay on her back, her eyes staring into the darkness of the cavern. The steady breathing of the priest telling her he had fallen asleep. Very softly she crept to the fire, added another log and slipped off to her own sleeping corner.

She had thought he was asleep when she first started undressing. There was nothing to blame herself for in that. When she had found he had been watching her though, the look of rapture on his face had touched something wicked inside. She had wanted to hurt him, make him pay for the death of old Duncan. She had wanted to punish the church that banished her knowledge and made people suffer because of ignorance and fear.

All she had wanted to do was taunt him with his obvious reaction to her naked flesh. She had wanted to mock the priest, but instead his appreciation had ignited her own lust. She had been very aware of his body when she had been taking care of him. And it had been so long, so very long. Angry with herself she balled her fists. She should have known better. He was no more than a boy. Maybe not in years, but he hadn't even seen a naked woman before.

Deirdre rolled over onto her stomach and rested her head on her arms. What in the world was she to do? There was no question of him staying here. But how could she get rid of him in a safe way? Merely kicking him out was impossible since he would then know where to find her. She had kept the cave hidden for ten years. There was no way she was going to give that up for one fuck. And a lousy fuck too. He had come almost instantly. Never giving her a chance to climax as well. Very likely he didn't even know a woman could climax. Dumb priest.

With a sigh she rolled on her back again. He would have to stay till the snow was gone; otherwise his tracks would be all over the place. That would be too foolish for words. Once the snow started melting however, she would have to get rid of him, bringing him out of the cave to a place where he could find his own way home. To make things easy, all of that had to be accomplished without him getting a chance to learn the location of her cave, her safe haven. Yes, well, that would be a piece of cake. She laughed mockingly at herself.

She would at least have some time to figure out how to do all that. Given the amount of snow it would take a few days before it had all melted away. Better get some sleep now. Finally she drifted off, her sleep troubled with uneasy dreams, vague images of being hunting and hiding.

Hardly refreshed Deirdre got up again. She wished she could take a nice, warm bath. As long as the priest was there however, that was out of the question. Grumbling she made do with the icy cold water trickling down from the mountain. She dressed hurriedly to get warm again, buttoning the purple shirtwaist with stiff fingers and smoothing the black and white striped skirt down over her hips. Her other pair of clothes was probably still damp.

Emerging from her own secluded corner, she looked over at the mattress in front of the fire. Rory had his back turned to her, but she saw the tension in his shoulders. He was awake. "You can use the water now, if you want to."

Not waiting for his reaction, she went to put a log on the fire and checked on the clothes. Feeling them still damp she moved the rack a bit to the side and bent to retrieve the blue petticoat where it had fallen on the floor. Straightening up again she felt his eyes on her. She lifted her gaze and saw his blue eyes full of turmoil; longing, desire, anguish and uncertainty all rolled into one.

"What?"

She felt irritated by that look. As if she had all the answers. In honesty, she was angrier with herself for getting them into this mess.

"Go freshen up. I'll get us something to eat." She did her best to sound a bit less harsh, but it was hard.

Turning to fetch bread and cheese, she saw him go from the corner of her eye. His shoulders and head bent down a bit, giving the impression of a kicked dog.

God, this was awful but she had to push him away, she had to. He would want to sleep with her again, that was to be expected. He would start to feel remorse though. Perhaps not right away, the pleasures of the flesh had intoxicated him, but after a while. He would come to realize he had put his soul in jeopardy. Well, in his view any way.

She sighed. He would probably blame it on her. They always did, didn't they? Those priests who knew nothing of love and warmth and sharing. Her face got a smoldering look. Scared of women, that's what they were. No real men at all. For the moment she forgot the old priest in the village, a caring and loving father to all his flock, even to her if she had been willing to abandon her healing.

Her movements were stiff and jerky from the anger still burning inside her. The platter of cheese and bread nearly bounced off the table when she plunked it down. Next she fetched a jug of beer. As she poured two tankards of the cooled liquid she watched the foam settle on top, refusing to look up when she heard his footsteps coming to the table.

She put the jug down and finally raised her eyes. A small smile appeared on her face, she could not help it. He looked so sweet with his wet hair, the drying cloth draped around his hips and a furious blush on his freckled face. No doubt because the cloth was totally unable to disguise his erection. She quickly dropped her gaze again and turned, not wanting him to feel laughed at.

"I'll fetch your clothes."

She walked to a chest and lifted his black robe out. She started closing the lid...

"Can't you take off yours?"

The sound of his voice stopped her dead in her tracks. Surely, she had not heard correctly? Slowly she turned back to look at him, her expression a study in bewilderment.

"You don't mean that. You're a priest. We shouldn't have... "

She faltered as she saw the look on his face: hurt, anger and desire.

"Am I not ... adequate? You don't want me?"

Oh God, he sounded so hurt, so small. ''Rory, this has nothing to do with wanting you. Think for a moment. You're a priest."

"That didn't stop you last night." He sounded a little petulant now. "I liked it, I really did. And I want to do it again." He looked at her. "Don't you?"

Deirdre laughed a bit shaky. "Yes, I liked it. And yes, I'd want to again. But not with you. Rory, you are a priest. You're not supposed to."

A peculiar expression flitted across his face and then he took a few steps forward. He shrugged and touched her hair. "I have sinned already. So why not sin again?"

She opened her mouth to argue with him, but she never got the chance. His hand took hold of her braid and his lips captured hers. He pressed his body against hers and his erection burned through her skirts. His kiss was inexperienced but his zeal compensated for the lack more than enough. It didn't take her long to realize they were only heading to more disaster so she started pushing him away with her hands on his shoulders.

He lifted his head and grabbed her arms, pinning her wrists behind her back. He was not big; they stood eye-to-eye, but sturdy and muscled enough to subdue her.

"You like it too. Don't say you don't."

His breathing was getting a bit ragged as he moved his free hand to the front of the shirtwaist. Slowly he undid one button after the other. With every button revealing more of the pearly skin till he came to the last one. Almost reverently he pulled the cloth aside and stroked the silky soft flesh. He ignored her protests and touched a soft pink nipple with his fingertip.

The barely audible intake of breath told him he was doing something right, so he kept doing it. Rubbing his fingertip over the peak till it was dark and standing erect, begging him to take it into his mouth. His hand switched to her other breast, repeating the rubbing and pinching till that nipple was hard as well. He feasted his lips on the dark pink buds and felt a sense of achievement when he heard her moan softly.

She no longer struggled so he used both hands to fondle her breasts, kissing and licking down her neck. The feel of her hands on his shoulders, stroking his back spurred him on. The cloth around his hips fell to the ground and her fingers kneading his buttocks made him think of the secrets hidden by her skirts.

Suddenly impatient he lifted her onto the table, making her squeal in surprise. He flung her skirts to the side and licked his lips at the sight of the black curls between her legs. Curiosity made him spread her legs and he inhaled her scent as he touched the glistening folds.

She liked that; he could tell by the way she moved her hips, trying to keep her flesh in contact with his fingers. His hands explored her in wonder; so soft, so wet and so hot. He found her entrance and slipped a finger inside. Her moans and encouragements told him she enjoyed what he was doing to her. He slipped his finger in and out a few times, simulating what he wanted to do with his cock.

His eyes grew wide with surprise as he felt her clench around his finger. The woman was moving the inside of her body! He pulled his finger out and got hold of his cock. The shaft was hot and heavy, the head throbbing and itching to get inside that wet, tight place again. Placing the tip to her entrance he grunted as he shoved his cock inside with one push.

From far away he heard her hiss something, but his attention was centered on his cock. Surrounded by hot, wet flesh that grabbed him almost with a life of its own. He vaguely felt her wrap her legs around him, her heels trying to push him closer to her body, but he resisted. The look of his cock entering her body and coming back out again, glistening with her juices, was stimulating him beyond belief.

The itching in his cock prompted him to move faster again, just like last night. Now, however, he knew better what to expect and he savored the feeling of his cock moving in and out, his balls slapping against her buttocks. He remembered her saying he had been too quick, so he tried to hold out but all too soon he climaxed. His balls seemed to shrink to his body and he felt his seed erupting, spurting into her body.

He wanted to rest his head on her belly, inhaling the mingled scents of his come and her arousal, but her hands pushed him aside. Again she touched her own flesh, but now he could see what she was doing. His cock was still inside her and he felt her muscles still working. Her fingers rubbed a spot at the top of her folds and after a while he heard her uttering those tiny sounds like last night. His cock slid out with the force of her orgasm and her body arched up from the table.

Amazing, could all women do that? His hands stroked her body, enjoying the softness of her skin. He looked at her face, flushed from their pleasure, with a few damp curls that had escaped her braid clinging to her neck. At that moment she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was certain he loved her. Bending down he kissed her softly on the lips.

The soft kiss called her back to reality again. Dammit, she had done it again. But his hands had felt so good. She knew she had not really wanted him to take her again, but she could not deny the pleasure he had given her, a bit inexperienced maybe, but vigorous enough.

With a sigh Deirdre sat up straight and flipped her skirts back down, pushing Rory out of the way in doing so. She avoided his gaze as she pulled the shirtwaist back over her shoulders and started buttoning up. Jumping off the table, she straightened the skirts with her hands, patted her braid and cleared her throat.

"That was nice. But..." She had to clear her throat again. "It won't happen again. It can't happen again."

She glanced at his stricken face and sat down, took a long drink of the still foaming beer and placed the tankard back again.

"Get dressed, Rory. We have to talk."

She felt like a monster, robbing a child of his favorite toy. But she had to use her brain; she had to be the wiser one here. There was no future for him with her. She didn't want a man, well, not him any way. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. Almost panicking that the memory of him would come back. Not now, she had enough on her plate.

Her fingers tore a piece from the bread Duncan's daughter had given her. Munching on it she watched the shadows from the fire dance on the mattress where Rory had been sleeping this last week. She could move that further from the warmth now that he was up again. His footsteps, halting beside the table, called her back from her musings.

She waited for him to sit down, then pushed a tankard towards him. A gesture of her hand indicated that the bread and cheese were for the taking. She took a deep breath before looking over to him. He wore a sullen expression on his face. Exactly like a boy not wanting to be deprived of his new plaything.

"How long have you been a priest, Rory?"

He shrugged, unwilling to make conversation. "Fourteen years, nearly fifteen."

"Was it your own choice? Or did your parents sent you?"

"My parents sent me. When I was ten. I was the eldest, of nine."

"Do you like it? What is it like? Being a priest?"

He shrugged again. "It's okay, I guess. I don't know anything else, now do I?" He looked at her with troubled eyes. "I don't know much of anything. Surely you noticed."

She almost reached out to him, but checked the impulse to touch him. That would not be very smart right now. It was more important to instill some common sense in him. She tried to tell him as gently as possible. There could be no future for them, ever. She told him he would start to hate her, he would start to miss the companionship of his brother priests.

He listened politely, but she never believed for one minute that he really heard what she said. He had his mind closed to everything not fitting his desires of the moment. She sighed. It did not really surprise her. It fitted her image of priests in general, but it made her sad as well. Their parting would be more difficult this way.

Finally, she gave up. In silence she finished the simple meal, cleared the remnants away and turned to inspect her boots and cloak.

"Are you going out?"

"Yes, I have to. You can leave once the snow has melted, but till then we need food."

"I can help. I'm not sick any more."

"No." She glared at him with angry eyes. "No, you cannot. Don't pretend Rory. You know exactly what I am."

She placed her hands on the table and thrust her face forward. Suddenly she was mad as hell. He came into her life, upsetting the careful balance and not thinking about the consequences at all.

"The inspector general has soldiers out there, looking for you. What will you tell them? Maybe show them the den of the witch?"

Dry or not, she forced her feet in the boots, grabbed the heavy woolen cloak and left the cave with angry movements. She never looked back at the priest. His shocked face when she had called herself a witch had said enough.

Because of her anger he sat motionless at the table. Long after the sound of her footsteps had died down, he remained seated. Almost without thought he ate some bread, broke off a piece of cheese, emptied his tankard and refilled it again. With a sigh he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

She had made it clear, she didn't want him. He had been too quick again. Maybe if he could hold out longer next time? He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, his feet stretched towards the small fire. The images that played through his mind made his cock all hard again. He wondered that he could have lived to be 25 without ever tasting that pleasure before. No wonder the inquisitor liked to taste witches. The word 'witches' finally penetrated his sex-induced euphoria and he sat bolt upright.

What had he done? All of a sudden he realized what he had been doing, what she had tried to tell him. God? He tried to pray, but the words stuck in his throat. He fell on his knees, searching for his prayer beads, clenching the small silver cross in his fist, but still the words would not come. How? How was he ever going to repent? He knew there was no atonement for his sin. Double sin, really. Not only had he broken his vow of celibacy, he had broken it with the carnal knowledge of a witch.

But it had felt so good. How could it be sinful? He knelt in agony, knowing he had succumbed to the tricks of Satan, but at the same time reluctant to let go of the wonderful feelings. It took a while, before the enormity of what he had done sank in. How could he go back to Father Edward? Or to the monastery for that matter? Could he call himself a priest anymore? Would God want to know him any longer?

Maybe hours went by with him sitting there, trying to find some piece of mind. He cried, he prayed and he shouted till he was exhausted. Finally he fell asleep on top of the furs in front of the little fire. In his anguish he had not thought to put fresh wood on it, so he woke up because of the cold. With stiff limbs from the uncomfortable heap he had been laying in, he stumbled through the cavern looking for something to get the fire going again. At last he found a flint in the most obvious place, on the shelf above the fireplace.

Angry with himself for letting the fire die, he sweated till he had some small flames licking at a fresh pile of twigs and cones. He liked the smell of burning fir cones and the modest warmth was more than welcome. Slowly building up the fire again took all his concentration, kept him busy and distracted for a while.

After a while, he was done however. The fire was going again and he was back to lamenting his loss. He had not chosen to be a priest, but he realized it had become all he wanted to be. The thought of losing the respect it brought, the company of learned men, the special place it ensured him in the hereafter, he just couldn't bear it. There had to be a way. Surely he could make amends?

He felt better once he had decided to tell Father Edward. Confess his sins and do penance. He nodded. Yes, he would also bring a gift to the church. The most precious gift he could think of. The emotional storm had passed and Rory felt almost peaceful. His decision felt so right, he knew he was on the right path again.

He settled in the big chair near the fire with a fresh tankard of beer between his hands, waiting for her to come back. He felt almost expectant, wanting her to hurry home. Sure in his faith again.

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