The next morning the couple woke early and prepared for the journey. They gathered their meager things into their travel packs and said goodbye to their small room. Ahma felt a moment of emotion she hadn't expected as she stood in the doorway, looking back into the bare, simple room. She was glad that they would be leaving Fernum; the city still made her heart ache from the injustices of its slave trade and the harsh nature of its cramped streets. Still…she had said goodbye to her maindenhood in this room, and embraced the love and desire she had harbored toward Master Methaniel for months. It gave her a kind of hope, that such wonderful things could be found even in so dark and horrible a place.
As the opportunity wouldn't arise again for some time, Ahma and Methaniel decided to take a thorough bath in the bathhouse before they left. The bath keeper, like most sane people, was sound asleep when they roused him from his bed. His sour mood lifted, however, when Methaniel gave him a silver coin in exchange for drawing a bath for them.
Methaniel and Ahma had the bath to themselves. All that lit the bathing chamber was a few candles the drowsy but pleased bath keeper had shoved into Methaniel's hand, and the very first glimmers of sunlight coming through the airing slits near the ceiling. The light was muted by the steam filtering through the room, giving it a soft, hazy look.
"Ahh," Methaniel murmured as he sank into the water. "I'll miss this in the next few weeks."
"You don't think we'll find an inn along the way?" Ahma asked as she removed her ugly dress, folded it neatly, and placed it on one of the low benches lining the walls. She fluttered her wings and preened them a moment before she slipped into the water beside him. Methaniel put one huge arm around her. She scooted into his side and placed her hand on his chest.
"I doubt it," he said. "We'll only be on the main road for an hour or two before striking off into the countryside. Much of it is farmlands, so if we're lucky we might happen upon some folk willing to let us rest for the night in their barn. But we will try to avoid contact with people while we're on the move."
"I understand," Ahma nodded. She let out a soft, lingering sigh as the hot water eased the tension from her muscles. She sank against her Master's form and shut her eyes.
"Your lessons will resume as we move," Methaniel said. One of his hands rose to caress her back, rubbing gently at the space between her wings.
Ahma shivered despite the warmth of the water and gave herself over to his ministrations. "I'll try to do well,"
"You'll do fine," he assured her. "You'll have more time to train as we travel. The weather will turn more hospitable the further south we go, so you won't feel the ache quite so keenly. In a little under a week we'll be out of the hills and beyond Rojinla's borders."
"That makes me glad," she admitted. "I…didn't like what I saw here."
Methaniel nodded. "Rojinla is a harsh place. It bothers me that Durinum courts them as an ally. We should be above seeking aid a group of rabble and cutthroats. There must be a better country to side with against the Naemer."
"Mmm," the Wingling girl mumbled as she relaxed into him.
The pair spent several more long moments soaking together, luxuriating in the rare moment of peace. Finally, Methaniel sat up and grabbed the soap and a washrag.
"Please," Ahma said, taking the items from his hands and smiling softly. "Let me."
"As you wish," Methaniel nodded. He sat up a bit straighter.
Ahma enjoyed washing him. She did not feel it was a duty she was required to perform, but rather something she
wanted
to do for him. She enjoyed the closeness, the contact with his skin and being able to do something to relax and sooth him. It felt right.
Her small hands rubbed the sliver of soap over his skin. She started at his back, working until it was covered with suds before switching to the rag and using it to rub the soap in even more, cleansing any dirt or sweat away from him. After working along his back, she went down one arm, then the other. After his arms were clean, she stepped in front of him, standing in the bathing pool with the water lapping just under her navel.
"You have wonderful hands," he told her. His eyes briefly swept along her naked form and he smiled softly. "You have many wonderful things.
"Thank you," Ahma blushed softly, smiling. "I am glad I please you."
Methaniel smiled and reached out to run his fingers briefly through her rich brown hair. "You are
very
pleasing to me indeed."
Ahma giggled and after finishing with washing his torso and his calves, circled back around behind him. Her delicate fingertips began to rub at the corded muscles of his shoulders.
"Are you going to let me bathe you?" Methaniel asked.
Ahma hesitated a moment, then began to massage him again. "If you wish, Master…it, well…nevermind."
"Tell me," he suggested gently.
"It's nothing…just Wingling things."
"I would like to hear, if you will tell me. Your people's beliefs are important," Methaniel said.
Ahma brightened a bit. "If you wish…Wingling's just have particular views on bathing. It's the same as wing grooming…it's a social act. Traditionally it's only done parent to child, or, well…Mate to Mate. It's just…I never thought I would really find someone to bathe me like this."
Methaniel smiled as Ahma continued her massage. "Wingling culture puts a lot of emphasis on couples, doesn't it?"
Ahma blushed slightly. "I suppose. Some of the courting rituals are very specific and intricate. I'm actually kind of glad I won't have to go through some of them."
Methaniel chuckled softly. "Perhaps that is for the best. Some of it would probably be lost on me."
The Wingling giggled as she poured water onto his head and began working soap into his long copper locks. "I hope all my people's strange practices don't bother you."
"They're not strange," Methaniel assured her. "They're different, yes, but there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, I find them fascinating. If Human society encouraged closeness and sharing rituals as your people do, perhaps our husbands and wives would share stronger bonds."
Ahma's brow rose as she worked the soap into his scalp. "I thought Human mates were close?"
"Some are," Methaniel shrugged. "As in everything else, we Humans are a fickle lot. Some of our married folk are so close it surprises those around them, and are a shining example of domestic happiness. Others fight tooth and nail and are far more miserable together than they ever would be apart. But I do not think many are as close as Wingling couples are, from what I'd heard…from your brothers."
"My parents were very in love," Ahma said softly after a long moment of silence. "So much so they were happy to give up their old life in the Wingling kingdom so they could be together. I don't know if all Wingling mates loved as they did, but my mother made it seem like such love between Mates was commonplace."
"Humans could learn much from your people, if only they would learn to listen to them," Methaniel replied.
Ahma rinsed his hair and then moved to massage his chest. After a long moment of comfortable, relaxed silence, she said, "I hope this library grants me entrance. I once went with your father to the Royal Library and they wouldn't allow me in. Your father insisted we leave immediately."
"I'll be sure they allow you in," he assured her. "It's likely to be a boring stay. Nothing but endlessly rifling through books."
Ahma shrugged. "I like books. I used to read to your father after his eyes got bad."
Methaniel nodded. The muscle of his chest rippled under her soothing fingers. "My father loved to read," he said absently. His hand came up to lightly stroke Ahma's tight, wet belly.
Ahma smiled at his attention. "Do you? Like to read, I mean."
"I'd say I enjoy books more than most…but I'm not nearly the enthusiast my father was. For me, reading fuels knowledge and expands our minds. Books are…a tool, I suppose. For my Father, they were magical. Sometimes I think he would have made a better scholar than soldier."
She nodded and continued to work her soapy hands into his broad chest. She shuddered at the feel of the corded muscle under the skin. Her wings fluttered as sensual memories of the last two nights flooded her mind.
Methaniel smiled and drew her close, pressing her to him.
"I never knew baths could be so enjoyable," he commented with a mischievous smile. He bent forward and lightly kissed her.
Ahma smiled into the kiss and they lingered in that sweet embrace for a moment. "It's about finding the right person to share the bathing with," she said when they finally separated. "Hannah always told me that."
He touched her side, rubbing it softly and causing her to giggle. "I'll get you nice and clean whenever you're ready."
"Soon," she smiled. "I have to make sure you're clean first. You should relax more, Master. You've been working so hard these past months, for both of us."
"It's nothing," he told her.
Finally, after several more moments of her attention, he convinced her to allow him to bathe her. She settled down in the water, relaxing as he began to wash her back. He carefully worked the soap into the flesh between and around her wings and down the smooth sweep of her lower back. Her entire back was tight with muscle, powerful tendons anchoring her wings to her shoulder blades and overlapping flight muscle that allowed her to launch her graceful form into the air. Even as heavily muscled as her back was, it still had the appearance of neat femininity, packed in tight, trim groupings that avoided an overabundance of bulkiness. She was a testament to the graceful power of a Wingling's unique physiology.
Ahma noticed his ginger touch as he washed the base of her wings. "Don't worry, they aren't sensitive. Well, not in an unpleasant way, anyway. You can touch them however you need to."
"Just don't smack me with them if I do something wrong," he teased playfully. She laughed.
