Vassal by Sterling D'Este (ebook reader computer TXT) 📕

minute, or maybe it was an hour, how could she tell time like this? She was panting slightly and hopelessly moving her hands over Delyth.

It felt like little bolts of liquid lightning dancing through her veins, radiating out from her core, and each time Delyth neared it, her heart paused in anticipation.

The healer tried to remember herself as she captured Delyth’s mouth with her own, occasionally moaning or gasping into the kiss as Delyth’s fingers continued their ministrations. At one point, she found herself avidly kissing Delyth’s jaw, the careful curve of her neck, her throat. Somewhere along the line, Alphonse found herself nibbling on the flesh there and smiling drunkenly as she tore herself away long enough to peer down between them.

Something about the sight of Delyth’s hand holding her so preciously, their limbs tangled up, and their bodies squirming together, nearly undid Alphonse. She shuddered as Delyth’s thumb pressed against that bundle of nerves again, and a half-choked cry escaped her, muffled as Alphonse buried her face against Delyth’s breast.

Some part of her mind was rushing down a tunnel, not knowing what was at the end but desperate to reach it. Alphonse’s hips moved of their own accord, greedily urging Delyth onward, closer, harder and faster and softer all at once.

Alphonse pressed herself against Delyth’s hand and then yanked herself away as a tremendous sensation came crashing through her, utterly wiping away all coherent thoughts or feelings. She was nothing.

She was everything.

The next thing Alphonse was aware of was her heavy breath, and her hand clenched into a fist at Delyth’s back. Perspiration glittered on her brow and throat and between her breasts, and then Alphonse was laughing—feebly and weakly and pointlessly, but she was laughing, her cheeks turning pink with joy. She rolled onto her side, nuzzling against Delyth, needing the closeness. Burying her face into the crook of Delyth’s neck, dark hair hiding Alphonse from sight, she murmured rapturously. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” And “You’re perfect.” And a few more thank you’s.

Because you always should thank someone for giving you a gift.

༄

Alphonse’s reaction surprised Delyth, her lips twisting upwards lightly in bemusement. It was fitting, somehow though, her laughter pure and happy. The priestess could feel her laughing between her legs too as she pulled her hand away.

She wrapped Alphonse’s snug, sex-limp body as close as skin, tenting them both with a wing. It might have been hot, she supposed. Anywhere but the center of a blizzard.

Gods, she hoped the sun never rose, that she could hold Alphonse in their little tent forever. Her thighs against Delyth’s thighs against warm bedding below them.

“You don't have to thank me for that,” Delyth said, smiling. “It's for us both. From us both.”

She did feel as though the time was a gift, one that would prove hard to come by as they neared the temple. Laughter bubbled up from her belly, half-unintended. “Perhaps we ought to thank Tristan. For the blizzard, I mean.”

Alphonse laughed gently and finally was able to tear her face away from the shelter of Delyth’s neck to smile up at the warrior. Beamed practically. She was all rosy.  “I don’t think I can not thank you. That would be rude, and you were so… meticulous.” The healer grinned and glanced down at Delyth’s hand, now resting on her hip. “Why don’t I just thank you and not Tristan? Or you could thank him and explain why. I’m certain he’d be happy. I’ve noticed men tend to speak of two women together carnally often… I understand why now.” She nearly smirked. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to boast. It's just—you’re so very… alluring.”

Delyth snorted. “I don’t think I’ll be thanking him either,” she said. “Men might like to think of two women, but I’d rather keep it out of their heads. It's not for them anyway.” She nuzzled against Alphonse’s shoulder playfully, giggling. “Besides, if they knew just how soft you make me feel, it’d ruin my big scary warrior reputation.”

Her tone was light and joking, but really the outside world couldn’t be far enough away for the warrior’s taste. She wouldn’t let anyone in on this sweet, shared secret for anything. Pulling away, Delyth could just see amber-tinted eyes. She lowered her voice to a whisper too. “I’m glad you find me alluring. I want to lure you to me and keep you close, keep you running back.”

Alphonse sighed and slipped her hand up and over Delyth’s hip, across her tight waistline, then back down. Soothing, long strokes. “I’ll always run back to you. As soon as I am able.” They both knew sometimes, she wasn’t able.

Alphonse kissed the corner of Delyth’s mouth. “I thought you were the most incredible female I’d ever seen when we first met. And the more I learned of you, the more you drew me in. I’ve been yours for… for a long time now…” Swallowing, Alphonse let her knuckles trace down Delyth’s collarbone and towards the part in her breasts. Between them… under one.

“I think I thought you were small when we first met,” Delyth said, pink-flushing cheeks made round by her smile. “But it didn’t take me long to see just how brave you are. How wonderful. How kind even in the worst of times.”

She closed her eyes at the gentle brush of Alphonse’s knuckles, the pulse in her neck jumping. She’d been content to lie there, curled together, but now her stomach shivered again.

“I… I don’t feel as though I deserve this.” Delyth was raw beneath Alphonse’s fingers. Vulnerable.

Alphonse’s hand stilled, her eyes widening. She looked away from Delyth, chewing on her lower lip. “I know I’m not as, well, experienced and I might disappoint you—”

“What?” Delyth said, startling. “You won’t. You couldn’t possibly… I couldn’t possibly be disappointed with you,” she said and reached out to press her palm against Alphonse’s cheek. “I meant—I meant that… I don’t feel good enough for this.” She pinked and looked away.

She was dangerous, dark. She had killed