Overdue Reward

I breathed in a deep sigh as her warm body crushed against mine, her small hands next to her face pressed against my chest. Almost against my will, my arms came down around her, to hold her.

My two subordinates were slack jawed, openly staring at me. They were both younger men, and good looking to boot. Ten years ago I could have conceived of being picked ahead of them, but not today. Yet the beautiful young woman who had entered the fortification had walked around them to get to me, in order to assault me in such a surprising way.

"Go," I told them.

"But sir, she came out of the—" one of the men said.

"Go!" I ordered him.

The two looked at each other, and then at me, and then they left the room where we'd been eating our rations by torch light.

It was early evening, and I could hear the waves of the sea in the distance. The fortification was built here to protect the coast, but recently had been proposed to protect against the house that I was certain he was about to say that she had come from. It had appeared days before I got my appointment to captain this fortification, and was very concerning to the nobility, and possibly even the king. No man had been able to enter, see inside it, or even damage it.

If she came from that house, that meant that she might be some creature of the night, here to spirit me away.

Yet, looking down into my arms, I could not conceive of that. First, she was tiny for a woman. Not even five feet tall. Her hair was long and brown and it dropped below her waist. Her eyes, regarding me as I regarded her, were the color of the sea. They were so unique; I could swear the storm that was brewing outside was reflected in them. Her skin was sun touched and, under these hands that had wielded a sword for twenty years, soft beyond comparison. Her clothes were plain, but well made; a blue shirt and brown skirt, belted with black leather. They showed her womanly curves, for though she was tiny, she was definitely an adult woman, with large bosoms and round buttocks. All of which, I realized, felt amazing in my arms.

"Good evening, miss," I said far more gently than I ever spoke to anyone.

I knew this would not last. Women did not march into the fortification and throw themselves at me willingly. This was the first time, in fact, that it had ever happened. Normally they walked in during day light hours, often with some male member of their family to report a crime or pay their taxes to the king. Maybe they would bat their eyes at my men, who were young and virile and far kinder to them than I would ever be.

"Good evening, Marcus," she said. She did not move, did not struggle to escape me. In fact, I felt her relax. She closed those beautiful eyes, and I felt her breathing slow down. Surprisingly, she rubbed her face against my body and seemed to be purposefully inhaling my scent, as if we had been lovers a long time ago.

I didn't want to - I hadn't felt a woman's touch in a very long time - but I put my hands on her arms and drew her away from me. As much as I would have normally taken a few steps back to review the situation from a more clear-headed perspective, I didn't want to stop touching her. So I found my hands on her upper arms, my right thumb gently caressing her through the fabric of her shirt.

"What is this all about, miss?" I asked.

She frowned at me.

"You really don't remember," she said, more to herself than to me.

"No," I said.

I am normally a very stern man. Many, in fact, consider me frightening. I have been captain of this fortification, representing the King himself, for only a few days. But I didn't get this choice assignment by talking sweetly to anyone. I rarely had to raise my voice, or even curse, but my tone and words have always carried weight. Before being assigned here, I had been a captain in the army, fighting the wars that eventually made my liege heir to many kingdoms. I had, as I rose through the ranks, dallied with many young ladies. But in the last several years of fighting, the unending slog of death had reduced my interest and it had waned. It was if they had nothing to offer me.

I am not ugly by any means. And I have seen ugly. War is terrifying, and full of sights you will never forget, no matter how much you might want. In my younger days, I was considered handsome with my jet black hair and black eyes, towering over most recruits. I stayed fit, beating the tar out of my subordinates in practice, or training up the new young men. Show any sign of weakness and someone else would be captain of this fortification, with its pension and prestige. I had, by the blessing of God, not yet felt my age. But that day was coming.

A tiny hand came up to my face and felt the grizzled stubble of the beard that, though I dutifully shaved every morning, stubbornly refused to stay gone. Like her, her hand was warm, and soft, and it was more of a caress than I had felt in at least a decade.

"You were near death," she said. "So I suppose you are forgiven for forgetting. But here, I'll help you."

Her hand reached to my temple and touched me gently there. It was like the blinding splash of lightening in my mind when she did.

I was transported back to the forest lands in the dark of night. It was raining hard, as it had been every day for the last month, drowning out the cries of dying men and grunting from ongoing fighting. It was very dark. The battle had turned into a free for all, men dying in the mud on all sides as other men pressed forward with swords and axes and daggers...anything that would rend and kill. I had been wearing my armor forever; at that point I slept and ate in it. It was heavy and water logged, and I was cold to my core. I had been cut here and there, and bruised, but I was suffering from a stab wound from which I knew I would not recover. Still, I was doing whatever I could so as many of my fellow brothers could live, which meant killing as many enemies of my king as I could before I succumbed.

I had struggled to move forward in the melee, and come upon what must have been a meadow, had there not been so much mud and blood. There was a small house there. I remember, as I fought a man whose face I could not see in the darkness, that we were far from any village or town. Yet there were no crops to sustain the owner, nor pens for animals. As lightening flashed, it lit up the meadow, and I saw clearly that there was a woman in a blue dress, standing by the house. It was the woman I was touching now, in the fortification.

Though I knew about the present, I could not regain my perspective on the current time frame. This memory consumed me.

As I killed the man who had been trying to kill me, I found myself making my way to her. There was a small circle of men around her and they were fighting. There were dead men at her feet. This battle had raged for days. Yet she only looked wet, and not dirty or injured. She also looked very sad.

One of the men broke free of the fighting and reached out to grab her by her hair, his sword ready to stab or cut her. Before I really understood what I was doing, I used what strength I had remaining in my life and interposed myself, blocking his access. My next stroke killed him.

The next man tried to go around me to get to her, but I killed him, too. And I kept killing them.

I felt my life's blood running from the wound in my side. It had stopped aching, and was numb now. That numbness was spreading, and yet I kept cutting down the men that tried to reach her. I don't know how long that went on. I just knew that when I stood in a circle of dead men, that dawn was touching the sky and I was so cold that I couldn't remember what warmth was like.

I fell to my knees, each breath coming harder and harder. I was in so much pain that I could not remember what life was like without it. I found myself falling the rest of the way down, lying on men who were dead, their blood mingling with mine, trying hard not to close my eyes because I knew it would be the last time.

Then small hands touched my neck.

I tried to react. I would fight until my eyes closed forever. But forever was coming quickly now.

From the hands I felt heat. The heat entered my neck, and flooded my body. If I hadn't already been on the ground, I would have fallen. The pain blinked out of existence; as that pain had been all that had been keeping me going, my eyes closed of their own accord. In the middle of a battle field, I lost consciousness, sure I would never regain it.

Yet, I did open my eyes again.

Daylight lit the clearing and my breathing came easy. I felt like I had slept for days. I was no longer in my armor. I was, delightfully, dry and the cold was a faint memory. I was staring at a blue sky, and my head was on a warm pillow. I did not smell the copper of blood. There was grass under my hands.

I tried to sit up, but hands pushed me down very easily, reminding me that I had been dying. Was I dead?

I turned, and found that I was in the lap of the beautiful woman. She was petting my hair, her other hand on my chest. Her eyes were unlike any I'd ever seen before. Though in the battle she had been unhappy, today she was smiling. I felt her penetrate to my very soul as those incredibly blue eyes stared into my own.

"Hello, Marcus," she said. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes, miss," I said. I licked my lips, as I realized I was very thirsty. I had not eaten or drunk in days. I had also, I thought, lost a lot of blood. I felt at my side for my wound, but it was no longer there. There was not even a cut in my undercoat.

Where before there had been nothing in the hand she had on my chest, suddenly there was a chalice in that hand. She tipped it into my mouth, and I drank. It was clear, cold water. Pure. Not like the water we soldiers had been reclaiming from the rain. It didn't taste like the death that had been all around us.

"My name is Shannon," she said, taking the chalice away before I felt the need to draw breath. "What would you like for your reward?"

I frowned.

"I don't understand," I said.

"You, of your own free will, fought to save and protect me. Few men in my lifetime have ever done such a selfless thing, especially as they were dying," Shannon said. The chalice was gone, and that small hand caressed my face. I realized I was as clean shaven as if I had taken the razor to it moments ago. But that was not possible; I hadn't been able to shave in many weeks.

"Am I dead?" I asked.

She laughed. It was like the laughter you sometimes hear from a stream that seems human, but is very much not so. Still, it delighted me and put me at ease.

"It was a small thing to make you comfortable," Shannon said. "You are very much alive. The fighting has passed on, so I have brought my lands back to their original state before the war came here."

This time, when I tried to sit up, she used her hands to help me. I looked around and the dead were gone. The blood was gone. There was grass and trees and the house stood in the undamaged meadow.

That was when I realized the house was the same as the house outside the fortification. And yet I still could not return to the present, though I could somehow still feel her arms under my hands there, even as I felt her hands on my body in this vivid memory.

"Now tell me, what would you like for your reward?" she asked.

I closed my eyes, and I lay back down in Shannon's lap. I felt for her hand, and I pressed it back to my face again, inhaling her scent. She smelled like the forest in spring, like flowers and spice. I could feel her, both with my body and my soul.

Shannon was not human. Shannon was not tame. But she was also a well of kindness. She was truly a magical creature, and yet I felt no fear of her. In fact, I felt that she very much liked me; perhaps even loved me. The emotions of magical creatures are not governed by the circumstances of men.

I wanted to wish to remain with her, in safety, and in her care forever. But I had a duty to my brothers, many more who would die if I didn't return.

"I understand your wish," she said. I was not surprised that she had read my mind. "I grant it, Marcus. I also grant that you will never suffer a mortal wound again. Nothing will stop you returning to me. But before you return to your men, and in no time they will have noticed has passed, let me do for you something to hold in your heart until such a time as we meet again."

As Shannon's hand pet my chest, I realized that I could feel her skin against my skin. My clothes were gone, but I was not cold. She seemed delighted that I had hair on my chest, and she teased it with her fingers. She leaned down and her lips touched my own; where they touched me that same heat rose inside me that had been placed there by her on the battlefield. A small tongue, to match the size of her, probed my mouth and elicited feelings in me that had been buried since the wars of my king's conquest had started. I felt stabs of pleasure throughout my body as she kissed me.

The hand on my chest roved to my nipples, and I gasped into her mouth. Never before had they been sensitive to touch, and yet I found my groin tingling as she teased them with her fingers. Her hand drifted lower on my body, to my stomach, where she rubbed and touched, as if examining a man for the first time. Then her hand moved lower, briefly pausing to delight in the hair that grew above my manhood.

Her light touches had their effect on me; my manhood started to fill with blood and I groaned in anticipation of where that gentle hand would descend next. To my relief it did, her hand fully exploring my manhood, cradling the balls beneath it, and rubbing the shaft, and then the head.

I moaned now, and she lifted her lips to stare down at me in wonder. Had she really never been with a man before? I wondered. She was so beautiful.

She took the shaft in her small hand, and began to stroke it, as if she knew what to do, even if she had never seen a man in this state before. Her fingers curled around it and then moved up and down the head and shaft.

It had been a very long time since I'd even touched myself, and longer since a woman had touched me. Though I'd had many women, I'd never had time to find one to love me, or for me to love. I had not understood the need, expecting that I would when I was older.

Yet, now, I somehow knew that she loved me. I had sacrificed myself to save her, though I understood now that she did not need my saving. It had forged a connection between us, and I realized that I loved her, too. I didn't understand how that could be, but I also didn't care. That emotion made what she was doing to me all the more arousing, having never experienced love before.

I knew she could hear my thoughts, and I understood she could feel my feelings now. She changed her movements to meet the most sensitive places on my manhood, stimulating them with one hand in ways that my previous flings had never been able to do with their entire bodies.

I was suddenly aware that her gentle ministrations were going to result in me orgasming very soon.

I was now on the ground, no longer lying in her lap. Her dress was gone. Her breasts were small, like her, but perfectly round with nipples that were hard from our activities. Her whole body was that sun kissed color. Unlike other women, there was no hair over her sex; it made her seem even younger than her small size.

She moved down the side of my body to watch her hand and my manhood. Her breath was warm against the sensitive skin and I moaned again. She bent and planted kisses on it, never stopping her hand.

I thought of what it would be like to be inside that small mouth, and as I thought it, she passed my manhood between her lips, her hands moving to the base and my balls, caressing, her delicate fingers drawing out sensations that I didn't know were possible while the warm, wet, confines of her mouth and tongue worked on the head and shaft of me. It was tight in there, and yet, somehow, she got all of me inside of her. She sucked and stroked and moved her way up and down the shaft.

I merely thought about the fact that I was coming to the edge and would fall over, and I could feel her smile around me, speeding up her activities to encourage me. I understood that it was all right to climax. She wanted to experience what happened when I did.

I cried out when I came. Wave upon wave of pleasure started at my groin and then travelled out to my entire body. I had never felt sexual pleasure throughout my body before; just the feel of the grass on my skin intensified the bliss. I spurted over and over again inside her mouth, while she licked and sucked and drank it all in. It didn't stop. The orgasm continued, and I could feel it ebb and flow as I breathed in and breathed out. My toes curled. I clenched and unclenched my hands. I moaned. Yet it continued. I was completely out of control, at her mercy, and she was using whatever magic she had to make it last, to make me writhe in delight and ecstasy.

Slowly, so slowly, it began to recede. In its place I felt filled up. With my satiation came the emotions tied to the act. Her feelings for me flooded me like the orgasm had. They did not abate with the cessation of the climax.

Shannon lifted herself from my manhood and curled against my side, my arm wrapped around her and her face on my chest. She kissed me there, and I felt that same heat where she kissed me. Her hand went back to my chest, to play in my hair there.

I found that I was getting my breathing back under control. I used the arm around her to stroke her back, and feel the rise of her buttocks.

I thought that I would very much like to touch her, and she smiled again, taking my other hand and pressing it against her breast. It was clear she had no idea why I wanted to do that, but equally clear that she was happy, and wanted me to be happy, as well.

I caressed her breast, and used my thumb on the hardened nipple. She shuddered, surprising herself, and laughed again. I rose, on my side, and bent down to place my mouth on her breast. Shannon made a noise then, that was very much one of arousal. I licked her nipple, and her hands appeared on my head, pressing me down.

I moved between her breasts and she lay down on her back, instinctively opening her legs, though I was clear she didn't understand why. Shannon had a human woman's body, but had never fully used it before. The thought aroused me greatly, as did the idea that I would give her at least as much pleasure as I was able to give her, in thanks for saving my life and giving me as much pleasure as she had.

I moved away from her breasts, which elicited a frustrated noise from her, though being able to read my mind prevented her from trying to drive me back to them with her hands. She did not know what was going to happen next, exactly, but she trusted me.

With other women, I would have drawn things out, kissing slowly down her body, so anticipation would build. But since Shannon didn't know what to anticipate, I simply moved from her breasts, dropped a few kisses along her stomach, and then placed myself between her legs. I used my hands to open her delicate folds, and she gasped at the sensation. Then I used my tongue in the slit I had revealed, licking all around her sex. Her tending to me had, indeed, created arousal in her, and she was already wet. I lapped it up with pleasure, as her taste was like her smell: spicy and sweet, like blossoms. I found her bud, at the top of her sex, and gently created small circles with my tongue. She moaned, surprised at herself, and then her hands went back to my head, pressing down.

Now it was my turn to laugh.

I spent some time there, making her even wetter, and she moaned more regularly now; I could tell from her breathing that she was getting closer to the explosion of orgasm. Her experience with it had been limited to what mine was like and I intended to let her have some of her own.