“I paid my father’s debt in blood,” he said. “With Austine… with Gavel. That isn’t his only debt, either. Will it be the same for the others? Is this just how I’ve chosen to live the rest of my life?”
The fire crackled, snapping through the thin, branchy strips of wood available to it. Malon didn’t answer him immediately, and it was clear to Damon that she was serious about considering not just his words, but the emotion behind them.
“There is at least one debt of your father’s which will never weigh on your shoulders,” she said.
“The one with Gavel? It’s delayed, not settled. Whoever replaces him will likely try to collect on it.”
“No.” Malon put an arm around him, waiting until he met her gaze before continuing. “The one your father owed to me.”
“For taking me in?” he asked. “Did he promise you something in advance for caring for me?”
Malon shook her head and gave him a small smile. “No. I did that did because it’s simply what an aesta does. It’s of no real importance what the debt involved. Just know, solas, that each day I spend with you is repayment in its own right.”
“Aesta,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you just the same, solas.”
She pulled him into a hug. Damon felt a passing lightheadedness on inhaling her scent, the faint aroma of crimson sap mixed with a distinctly feminine musk.
He felt his body stirring inwardly, and the sensation was about to run off in its own direction when Malon’s hand slid down the side of his body, coming to rest on the hilt of his newly recovered sword.
“This is…” She pulled back, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah.” Damon reached down and slowly drew the weapon from its scabbard. “I’ve never shown you this, have I? I was given it as a gift after I left the farmstead, but Gavel stole it from me just before I returned home. It’s known as a—”
“Wrathblade,” interrupted Malon. “This… Was the Remenai crest sorcerer aware of the fact that you had this?”
Damon wrinkled his brow. “He asked about it, yes. Do you think this sword is part of why he agreed to pursue Gavel’s debt?”
Malon didn’t right away, her eyes remaining locked on Damon’s weapon. “Wrathblades are for more than mere swords. They’re imbued with magic. Dangerous magic, solas.”
“You know more than you’re telling me, don’t you?” he said.
“The only secrets I keep are ones necessary for the sake of protecting the people I love,” said Malon. “In this case, you.”
“I’m not getting rid of the sword,” he said. “Not without understanding more about it.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
They’d finished their food, and Malon watched him with an odd, appraising expression.
“I’ve already used it.” Damon ran a finger along its edge and smoothly sheathed the wrathblade. “I’ve seen some of what it can do.”
“It tasted blood, then?”
Damon nodded.
“I suspected as much,” said Malon.
“But you still won’t tell me what you know?”
“Not yet,” she said, with a smirk. “I will teach you, worry not. But not until I sense that you’re ready.”
Damon shifted closer to her, listening to the fire crackle to his left while the crickets began their nightly chorus on his right. “You’ll teach me?” He smirked and drew nearer still, bringing his face into dangerous proximity with hers. “You should know that I’ve already learned much, aesta.”
Malon’s eyebrow twitched. “Is that right? I wonder just what it is that you’re—”
He cut her off with a kiss, testing her reaction, but also feeling like it had been drawn out of him on a deeper level. Malon’s tongue was quick to respond to his, far too quick, given who they were to one another.
“Solas…” whispered Malon. She swallowed audibly and pressed a gentle hand to his chest, shaking her head in a motion that caused a few strands of red hair to come loose across her face.
“Aesta,” he said. “You mentioned that how your crest magic works is beholden to a contract with Lascivious. I’m not daft. Each of the Forsaken share the innate behavior attributed to their names. I can only assume that the crest contracts work the same way.”
“Solas,” she said, falling short of the firmness she attempted to put into her voice.
“You pay your price in lust, or intimacy, at least,” he said. “You basically admitted as much after your fight with Ria.”
Malon said nothing, and her expression betrayed little more.
“You mentioned that my father owed you a debt,” continued Damon. “Given the obvious dangers we’re going to face, whether it’s from Shank, other dangerous people seeking money, or other threats from within the Malagantyan… You’re going to need my help to stay at full strength.”
“Are you listening to yourself right now, solas?” asked Malon. “Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting? You think that because your father owed me a debt, I’d be the type of women who would demand you pay a lurid price as compensation?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“What I mean,” she said. “What I feel I should emphasize, though it’s somewhat embarrassing for me to do so, is that my crest contract goes both ways.”
Damon frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Malon dropped her gaze, taking his hands into hers. “The simplest way for me to regain my strength after using my powers is, as you said, through acts of physical intimacy. It’s almost as though there’s an aura which surrounds my behavior in these times, at all times, to some degree. An aura of…” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Excitement and… arousal.”
Damon resisted the urge to chuckle. He let his hand rest on her knee, and then slide up her thigh, only stopping when he saw the sudden, severe shift in Malon’s expression.
“Is this aura here with us right now?” he asked.
“Solas!”
“I’m joking, aesta,” he said. “I understand what you’re saying and the nature of your concerns. I’m not suggesting this out of random opportunity or any responsibility I feel over my father’s debts. You’re a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. You care for me more than anyone else in the world, and I—”
“Solas.”
“And I care for you!” He finished. “And… I suspect you want this too.”
Malon blinked, took a breath, and then cleared her throat purposely. She stood up and brushed her hands off on her long tunic, stepping toward the tent. “It’s been a long day for both of us. I think we should get some sleep to clear our heads.”
Damon stood up, catching her before she could disappear into their shelter and pulling her into a hug from behind.
He was ashamed at how hard speaking honestly with her had gotten him, but as all things intimate do, his arousal served a purpose. He let it press into her buttocks, felt the sudden shiver that ran through her, and brought his lips in close to her ear.
“Is that what you think we’ll be doing tonight?” he whispered. “Sleeping? Truly?”
“You’re striding a dangerous line, young man.”
“As were you, when you made the choice to bring only a single, rather small tent,” he said. “Will we be sharing a bedroll, too? I suppose it hardly matters, given how tight of a fit it will be.”
She let him touch her, let him take in the full measure of her hips and bosom through her clothing with his hands. He wasn’t sure what that meant, whether Malon was in a similar state or just patiently waiting for the right moment to chide him like a proper aesta.
“You are young, solas,” she whispered. “Far too young. I could show you things which would make you realize that.”
“I’m surprised you think that’s the sort of threat that would intimidate me.” He kissed her neck, letting his hand cup the entirety of one of her breasts. They felt so good, and he felt so sincerely lewd and ashamed for considering the incredible range of
activities they would be well suited for.
“You’re being difficult,” whispered Malon.
Difficult. The word, that phrase, had always been her catch-all reprimand to him as a child. It stirred a conflict within Damon as he continued poking her in the rear with his erection, intensely aware of his own guilt, the wrongness of his attraction.
“The situation in the tent is what I think will be difficult,” he replied.
Malon turned around, breaking the contact of their bodies, but not moving far enough away from Damon to keep from staying wrapped within his arms and embrace.
“Solas, if you would take a moment to clear your head, there would be little issue.” She gave him a passably stern look. “I am much older than you, much older than I seem. My appearance is kept this way only because of my crest. If I’d aged naturally, you… would understand, and perhaps would be free of these… inclinations.”
“I somehow doubt you’d be any less beautiful,” he said. “How many suitors have you had over the years, aesta? I’ve seen the way men look at you.”
It made his face flush to mention, especially to her. It had bothered him as a child, and now here he was, leering her at her with eyes no less hungry. The thought should have pushed him back, but instead, it only made him want to see her more, see all of her, everything underneath.
“Men are men,” she said. “For them, it’s only natural.”
“I’m a man. I’m not sure I can help it.”
She pressed a hand to his chest and a sudden firmness entered her expression. “And if I told you that you must?”
There was a snap to her voice that told him that challenging her, in that moment, would be like challenging her punishments as a child. His judgment may have been affected by a haze of heady horniness, but hers wasn’t, at least not nearly to the same degree. He swallowed, feeling his respect rein in his own rebellion against her authority.
“I will try my best,” he said. “For you, aesta.”
“…Thank you.” Malon blinked, looking surprised, relieved, and oddly disappointed all at once. “I love you so much, solas.”
“As I love you,” he said. He gave her hands a chaste squeeze, rallying his willpower and pulling away. Dipping into the tent, he grabbed one of the two bedrolls and began sliding it out to set up elsewhere.
“What are you doing?” snapped Malon.
“I assume this is what you meant?”
“Of course not,” she said, brusquely. “It gets far too cold for you to sleep out in the open.”
She began taking her tunic off right there in front of him, as though trying to make a statement about how the page had already been turned on any thoughts of further physical intimacy.
It had the opposite effect, especially as she started wiggling out of her leggings, standing before him in nothing more than a half shirt and girlshorts.
She folded each garment and set them down just inside the tent before dropping to her knees to slip in herself. Pausing just beyond the flap, she shot an expectant glance back at him.
“Am I to sleep with my clothes off, as well?” asked Damon.
“You may be uncomfortable if you keep them on,” said Malon, in a matter of fact tone.
He stared at her, letting his eyes linger on hers before slowly pulling his shirt off. The sense of her gaze roving across the muscles of his stomach, arms, and chest sent a perverse thrill through him, but that no more than a warmup compared to the heat brought about by lowering his trousers.
He had undershorts on, of course, but the thin cloth was a thinner veneer over what was otherwise a disgustingly lewd moment.
Malon was kneeling just inside the tent, and he was standing just outside of it. His hard cock bulged against the fabric of his undershorts, pointing directly into her lightly freckled face, hovering mere inches away from her perfect, full lips.
“It’s going to be a tight fit,” he said.
“Yes, well…” Malon cleared her throat awkwardly. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it comfortable.”
“Are you ready for me to slide in?”
Malon was still staring at his cock, and it seemed to take a moment for his words to register. “Ah. Yes. I only have the one quilt, unfortunately, but I’m sure, we’ll…”
She trailed off as Damon joined her under the blanket. The sudden closeness of their near-naked bodies caused the tension to surge to a level above and beyond where it needed to be. He set a hand on her hip, and then was pulling her to him, kissing her and feeling her kiss him back.
He pawed at her with rough, searching movements, his fingers groping at her thighs and buttocks. Malon reciprocated, touching his abdomen, her body moving willingly against his as she eagerly kissed him back.
The moment was primed to the bursting point, and Damon slid his fingers into the waistline of her girlshorts, ready to take it even further.
She stopped him, setting her hand flat on his chest and taking a breath. “Solas. Do I truly arouse you so?”
He took a hold of her wrist and shifted her hand directly onto his slate hard cock, feeling her fingers immediately begin touching and caressing it through his shorts.
“That’s not as much of an answer as you may think it is,” she whispered.
“I could give you more of one, if you wanted.”
“Solas, this is because of my crest,” she said. “It’s more powerful than you realize. It stirs thoughts and desires. It presents me as an object of sexuality and fertility. Even simply looking at my lips or my breasts may be enough to place ideas in your head of various… problematic and inappropriate activities.”
“I’m not sure I’d describe such things as problematic,” he said. “Enjoyable, fun, dirty, all seem like better descriptions.”
“It’s my turn to feel less than surprised,” said Malon. “You have a young man’s mind.”
“And a young man’s vigor.” Damon pressed his cock against her stomach, feeling a shiver run through her in response. “Aesta. Let’s simply keep each other nice and warm underneath this quilt.”
He tried to pull her girlshorts down a second time, feeling Malon wiggle in a manner that foiled his efforts. She kept her hand on his bulge, and as Damon kissed again, she still kissed him back, heedless of the effect the contradiction had on him.
“We’ll be traveling again tomorrow, and at this rate, we’ll never get to sleep,” said Malon.
“I can think of a few things that might help relax us.”
“I’m sure… you could.” Malon struggled to get words out through his deluge of kisses. “But… solas… you must find your own way to… calm yourself down.”
She let out a gasp as Damon’s hand finally found its way into her girlshorts. His fingers trailed across the lips of her womanhood, feeling the hot, wetness there. She was ready for him, and that fact nearly made him burst prematurely.
“Oh!” moaned Malon. “Oh, solas!”
He teased her with his fingers, letting the tip of one penetrate her ever so slightly. The way her body quivered was so lewd and seductive that Damon lost any semblance of control. He tore off his undershorts, followed shortly after by hers, and pressed her thighs apart.
“Aesta,” he said, groaning with anticipation. He leaned forward and she leaned up, her lips meeting his for the most intense kiss they’d shared yet. He pushed forward, letting his cock tease against her hot, tight opening.
For an instant, the tip of his member entered her. The pleasure that surged through him was unbelievable, so vivid and compelling that Damon wondered if he was another facet of her crest aura. He wondered if pushing his full length into her, thrusting and pumping as his hips were already in motion to do, might spoil sex with any other woman for him forever.
“Solas!” snapped Malon. The firmness had reentered both her voice and her actions. She thrust a hand forward, pushing not just back, but flipping him downward. Crimson light filled the tiny tent, and Damon realized that he couldn’t lift his shoulders up from the g
round.
“Aesta?” he said, blinking in surprise. “Did you just use your magic on me?”
“You forced me to,” she said, a touch defensively. “You pushed your luck too far by twice over.”
“I could have stopped,” he said, feeling the lie in the words even as he spoke them.
“You couldn’t have, but I don’t blame you entirely,” she said. “This is my fault as well.”
He was still naked from the waist down, and feeling her soft fingers close around his granite hard shaft stole a gasp from his throat. Malon pressed her other hand onto his chest, warning him to stay where he was as much as threatening to hold him in place again.
He could see her face in the waning firelight, the struggle in her expression as she breathed heavily and gently bit her lower lip.
“I underestimated the size of your needs, as a young man,” she whispered, gently stroking him off. “For tonight, I will take responsibility for that. But we will never put ourselves in the position for this to happen again.”
“Aesta!” he said. “That feels incredible.”
“Does it?” A coy smile played across her lips. “I’m barely doing anything.”
She ran her thumb over the head of his cock and increased the pace of her soft, loving stroking. Damon felt his back arching in response to her movements, his hips bucking as readily as he would have if he’d paid an expensive whore to ride him off.
“You’ve grown so much,” whispered Malon. “Oh, I shouldn’t say such things right now, should I? But it’s true. In so many ways, solas, you have become a man.”
She gently shifted into a twisting motion with her hand that felt incomprehensibly good. She leaned in closer, her eyes wide, but blinking, as she stared at the head of his member.
“Aesta,” he said. “I should warn you…”
Malon let out a small, interesting moan. “What is it, solas?”
“If you keep your face so near…” He felt his face flush as he considered the dirtiness of what he was about to say. “I’ll have to make a mess on you.”
Sin and Soil Page 23
