by Mike Truk
“I was feeling strange,” said Hugh angrily, rising to pace back and forth. “My mind went to a dark place after speaking with Katharzina. I felt cruel. I’ll admit it. And Morwyn’s provocations, they spurred me on. I’m not saying it was right. But I need my captain of the guard to be strong. I need to be able to depend on her. I thought forcing her to face her secrets might prove… therapeutic, or good for her in some way.”
“What happened?”
“She struck me and fled crying.”
“Struck you and fled crying. And you didn’t chase her?”
“No.”
“So you just let her go.”
Hugh turned and paced down the length of the dining room, suddenly feeling nauseous, feeling angry, resentful. He wanted Elena to leave him alone. To find the right words to shut her up, to defend himself.
But the words wouldn’t come.
“Hugh.” And worse yet was the sadness and compassion in Elena’s voice.
He turned to glare at her. “What?”
“If someone came to you, wounded in battle and burning with fever, would you strike them and curse them for being weak?”
His head rocked back. “Of course not. But that’s not fair, either. Morwyn is a woman grown. What’s eating at her could destroy her, destroy us. And…” He trailed off, groping for words, trying to explain his own anger. “She masquerades her weakness as strength. She’s driving herself out of fear. She loathes herself, Zarja. I can’t stand to see her that way.”
“You can’t stand to see her that way.” Softly said. “This is about you, then, and your needs.”
“No.” He made a cutting gesture. “Of course not. But I want to help her, even if it means forcing her to deal with issues she’s spent her life ignoring.”
“Hugh.” Elena shook her head slowly. “Healing cannot be forced.”
“Then what are you saying?” Exasperation seized him by the throat. “I should just leave her be, even if it kills her or the rest of us?”
“No. I’ve already told you. Choose kindness and compassion.”
Hugh laughed bitterly. “Have you fucking met Morwyn?’
“You are so young, Hugh. Sometimes dealing with you humans drives me to the point of despair.” Her voice hardened, grew commanding. “Come here and sit down.”
Hugh blinked. He’d not heard such authority in her voice before. Curious, he did as he was told.
“I once knew a man. This was - oh - maybe a century ago. He was a veteran of some war or other. Had done horrible things when he’d been little more than a child. Things that had carved his soul into small, bloody fragments. Yet he was a beautiful man, his soul a noble one for all that he’d mutilated it. I wanted to help him, but he scorned any soft touch. Responded only to the lash. To being abused in the most horrific of ways.”
Hugh listened, curious despite his anger. “So you treated him with kindness and compassion?”
“Yes. But that’s not what he needed. He needed to be hurt. But you can hurt people from a place of compassion. You can denigrate them from a place of love. And if they know that, if they know you love them and respect them and are only hurting them because that’s what they need, then that pain, that abuse, can actually heal.”
Hugh mulled this over. “I don’t get it.”
“You hurt Morwyn from a place of cruel dominance. You didn’t build her up. You didn’t lead her through the experience and into a safe place where she could reassess while you held her and comforted her. You attacked, demolished, and then let her flee. Wherever she is right now, she is hurting. With Sigmund, I would do the most terrible things to him - things that gave me no pleasure - but which he needed in order to process his past. But he knew. He knew I loved him. And that no matter what I said or how I hurt him, it was done with love. And that I’d stop in a moment if he asked me to. And that made all the difference. And after each night of abuse, he would weep in my arms, weep like a child, and I would hold him and tell him I loved him.”
Hugh felt his skin prickle with goosebumps. “He’d weep in your arms?”
“Yes Hugh.” Pity in Elena’s gaze. “Weeping can be a way to heal. I did things to Sigmund that I never thought I could do to another living being. But I did them with kindness and compassion in my heart, and that is what Morwyn needs. Not to be hurt further. Made to feel like a broken ruin of a person. To loathe her own weakness more than she already does. She needs someone to lead her out of her own labyrinth, if they can, who can descend into the darkness of her soul and not judge her for it but love her instead, and with that love, help her heal.”
Hugh stared down at his hands. The hands of an oaf. A brute.
“Damn you,” Morwyn had whispered, fighting back tears. “Damn you to the Ashen Garden, Hugh Stasiek.”
“Shit,” he said, sitting down heavily.
“Yes. Shit is right.” Elena rubbed the base of her palm into her eye and sighed. “You can’t keep hurting those around you, Hugh. If we are to succeed, we must be strong together. We must trust each other. We must love each other. It helps nobody for you to wade into the ruins of their soul with a wrecking hammer.”
“I’m sorry.” He forced the words out. “And I know I don’t have to apologize to you, but… I’m sorry. I thought, in all my asinine wisdom, that I was helping. Giving them… I don’t know. Something akin to tough love.”
“I understand,” said Elena. “You’re a good person, Hugh. I wouldn’t be with you otherwise. But you’ve been through so much yourself. So much pain. So much misery. You’re lost within your own labyrinth.” She moved forward to sink to her knees before him, reaching out to take his hands in her own. Face upraised, her scars catching the light, her eyes glowing a lambent amber, as if Zarja’s true eyes were shining through. “Given that, the fact that you even want to help is amazing. But you must be sure it does help. And doesn’t make things worse.”
“I’ll do better,” he said, voice rough with emotion.
She held his gaze, her expression open, without judgement, and to his surprise Hugh saw tears gather in her eyes. She reached up to caress his cheek.
“Oh Hugh. I see such pain in your spirit, in your heart, in your mind. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so much.”
Her words were like a key slotted into his heart, turning and unlocking his own pain so that it arose within him like a conflagration. He inhaled sharply, fighting to keep it at bay. “I’m all right.”
Her thumb moved gently across his cheek. Her eyes glimmered. “So brave. So young. So powerful. You may laugh at me, but I love you. I’ve grown sufficiently wise to understand and accept when I’m falling in love. To not fight it, to try to qualify it, to protest or understand. But simply to accept. To be grateful. That once again, in this long and storied life of mine, I have met someone I can love. And that person is you, Hugh. And perhaps Anastasia. Maybe, in time, even Morwyn. Such talented, brilliant, abused humans. If only I were better at this. I would give you all that I had if it could but alleviate your pain a little.”
Hugh’s throat tightened. He didn’t know what to say. Stared down at her in shock. Love…? Warmth spread within his chest at the very thought, and something akin to relief, to gratitude. That such as Zarja might find him worth loving, that she wouldn’t spurn him and leave him - it seemed beyond improbable, nearly ridiculous.
But there was no denying the burning light in her eyes. The way she was touching his face. The vanilla smell of her, so close before him.
He fought to swallow. Should he tell her he loved her, too? Did he? He had no idea. He cared for her. Despite everything, despite what and who she was. But was that love? Should he say it anyway? Tie her closer to him? No. That would be dishonest. But not if he meant it. Did he love her? How could he? They’d known each other for years now, but only truly these past few weeks. Could he…?
“Shhh,” said Zarja, moving her fingers over his lips. “Don’t worry. I don’t need you to say a thing.”
Hugh want
ed to protest. But she rose up on her knees so that their faces were level, her hands cupping his cheeks, her honey-colored eyes but inches from his own, her breath warm and sweet on his face. Her fox ears emerged through her hair, her face changing, the scars fading away, her cheeks becoming fuller, her face more heart-shaped.
Zarja, voluptuous and fey, gorgeous and vulpine, gazed deep into his eyes.
“Why?” he whispered, voice cracked, meaning: why me, why us, why risk everything in our company, why give yourself to such broken people?
Zarja smiled, enigmatic, revealing sharp canines. “I’ll show you.”
And leaned forward, slowly, tenderly, to press her lips against his own. Soft and sweet, the kiss quiet, almost chaste, but which changed a moment later as she parted her lips to probe with her tongue, running its tip over his bottom lip.
Her hands moving into his hair, her hips pressing forward against his knees.
Hugh closed his eyes, focused on the sensations, reached out for her shoulders, touched her hesitantly, gently, as if she might break beneath his cruel touch. She turned her head to the side, opened her mouth more fully, her tongue slipping into his own now, slipping over his, enticing him. Sensual, confident, probing.
She moaned, deep in her throat, and he felt it as a vibration. He’d never been kissed like this. Slowly and surely, passionately but with steady calm, her taste, her tongue, her whole body wanting him but savoring this very moment.
Zarja broke the kiss, touched her brow to his, their noses side by side, her face so close he could barely focus on her eyes, and saw her smile.
“We are all of us broken, Hugh. The trick lies in not expecting perfection, but instead celebrating our edges, our scars.”
He drank in her words, hands still on her soft shoulders, wanting to pull her in for another kiss, awed by her, who she was, what she was, what she had seen and done over the many, many years of her life. Words like that from a human girl would have been pretty but quickly dismissed; coming from her, two-centuries-old lisica, they were instead profound, and he inscribed them into his ruined heart.
“Even for my kind, life is short.” Her words were soft. “Each moment a privilege. And the only way to be worthy of this gift is to love each other. Despite everything. Despite the pain. The cruelties. The injustice. You either weep and break, or you laugh and love. And I’ve always chosen love, Hugh. Always… always… always…”
She leaned forward again and kissed him, and he embraced her with something akin to reverence, suffused with wonder. Pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, carefully, tasting her, probing her, wanting to devour her but keeping that aching need in check.
And for a long time they simply kissed, holding each other tight, clinging to each other, as if they might be pried apart at any moment.
Until Zarja once more broke the kiss and stood. Never looking away from him, she shimmied out of her breeches, working them over her round hips to step out of each leg so that she stood in but her underclothes, her musky scent of arousal strong, her chest rising and falling as she gazed at him.
“I want you to love me,” she said, reaching down to take his hand, turning it around, and press his fingers to her sex. The fabric of her underclothes were soaked. He felt her swollen labia as she worked his hand slowly back and forth, tracing the slit between her lips. “Love me, Hugh.” And she stepped back to peel her underclothes down her legs.
He stood, and as if in a dream laid her down on the table, lowering her carefully amidst the bowls and cups, so that her ass lay flush with the table’s edge, where he knelt and gently parted her creamy thighs so he could gaze down upon her sex in the candlelight.
She glistened, her outer lips engorged and parted to reveal her inner labia, so delicate and held together by her arousal. Her smell was arousing beyond anything he knew, vanilla and musk, and she closed her eyes as he ran his fingertips down the inside of her smooth thighs, down to her mons, and there into the thatch of golden hair she’d trimmed.
Delicately, he traced the length of her lips, heard her gasp and smile as she startled under his touch, then moan softly as he leaned forward to trace her slit with the tip of his tongue, tasting her, wanting to dive in deep but holding back. Where before he’d always turned to his fiery need, taking and taking and taking again, this time he found himself wanting to give.
Carefully, he licked up the length of her slit, right to her clitoral hood. Traced circles around it, avoiding the little nub itself, then back down, along the valley between outer and inner lips, the taste exquisite, her soft breathing of contentment spurring him on. Down to her vagina, where he pressed the tip of his tongue within, causing her to moan, then back up, parting her labia with the flat of his tongue, licking more roughly, up to her clit once more, to circle, circle, circle -
Zarja reached down, fingers sinking into his hair, caressing him as he teased her, explored her sex, sought to make her gasp, to make the muscles of her inner thighs twitch, responding to her breaths and moans and licking deeper and harder whenever she caressed him with greater need.
“Your finger,” she breathed. “Slide it inside me, Hugh. Slowly. Please.”
He did so, marveling as her inner labia bent before it, then stretched out, hugging his digit as he pulled it back, then in again, deeper, to the second knuckle, then the third. Base of the thumb of his other hand rubbing gentle circles around her clit, pulling the skin back to cause it to peek forth. He leaned down, breathed on it, and touched it delicately with his tongue.
Zarja’s whole body jerked.
“Oh fuck, yes. Move your finger now. Inside me. Stroke up toward my navel. As if you were making a - oh! Yes. Yes yes yes. Like that. There. And lick me, yes, oh fuck, Hugh, yes. Like that. Just…. Like… “
Her breath was coming in quicker pants, her tail working back and forth, brushing across the top of his thighs. Her thighs squeezed the sides of his head, pressed against his ears so for a moment he couldn’t hear her, then relaxed as she pressed her hips up to him, pressing her pussy against his face, working it from side to side. She was getting so wet, her vagina squeezing his finger as he made that come-hither motion, her breath rising, her hands grasping her full breasts, squeezing her nipples through her shirt, her head turning from side to side as if trying to deny what she felt, her eyes closed.
Hugh moved his tongue directly to her clit, licked her now with quick, darting touches, pressed harder with his finger, felt her lift her ass clear off the table, her feet anchored on his shoulders, her cries rising, rising - and then she gave a scream, squeezed the sides of his head again with her thighs, her pussy clenching about his hand, her fingers digging deep into his hair, her body shaking and writhing as she came.
Hugh kept moving, keeping his pace inexorable, and found that she kept coming as he worked her, body shaking and juddering as aftershocks rolled through him, her cry winding down into gasps, her whole body heaving, knees sagging outward so that her lips parted, completely unabashed.
“Oh fuck. Yes. You’re a quick learner. There is… I’m going to…” She dropped her head back, took a deep breath, then looked back at him with a grin. “Try not to look quite so pleased with yourself, hey?”
Hugh laughed, happy, feeling light, at peace. To make a beautiful, near-immortal being come like that was all he wanted. “Now it’s my turn.”
“Oh yes,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Yes.”
He pulled his cock free and leaned forward over her so as to stare down into her eyes. “I still don’t understand why you’re with me.”
“You’ve got your talents,” she said, hands reaching down to take hold of him and guide him into her wet folds. “One of which… yes. Oh… there. One of which… is actually… quite unique amongst you humans…”
Marveling as he stared down at her, drinking in her beauty, Hugh slid his entire length into her pussy, feeling her wet, creaminess all around his shaft, taking him, squeezing him, till his bal
ls hit her ass cheeks and he couldn’t go any further. And there he stayed, as deep as he could inside her, and slowly rocked his hips from side to side as if stirring her from within.
“Hmmmm,” she said, smiling with her eyes closed, drawing her knees up to her chest and clasping one arm under them both. “Yes. That feels… just like that.”
Pressing her legs together exerted a wonderful pressure on his cock, so that when he drew himself free and slid back in, he couldn’t help but groan from it. Placed his hands on either side of her upturned thighs and fucked her with long, measured strokes. In as deep as he could, then back out till her inner labia barely clasped around his cock head - to pause, wait a second - and then thrust smoothly all the way back.
Again. And again. And again.
It was heaven. Sweet ambrosia. I’m fucking a lisica, he told himself, half in wonder. Fucking a being that’s lived for centuries. Making her pant. Making her sweat.
Her moans were coming faster as he began to increase his rhythm, sweat breaking out across his brow. Faster but with the same methodical intensity, plowing into her again and again without breaking rhythm.
“Fuck, just like that,” she whispered. “By the Oak and Stars I love your fucking cock.”
He reached forward to grasp her breast through her shirt, cup it in his hand, squeeze it gently, its ripe fullness, and found her nipple hard and erect. Took it between his fingers and squeezed, and she cried out, arching her back, hand squeezing her other breast.
The need was too strong. He couldn’t control himself longer. Began to pound her harder, driving home more forcibly each time, each thrust sending a shockwave through her that caused her breasts to shake and drew a gasp from her full lips.
Fingers digging into her hips, he leaned back, closing his eyes, and came into her again and again, feeling her flex her pussy, squeezing his cock with each thrust, till the sensation became almost unbearable.
So intense all thoughts of prolonging the moment evaporated, and he let loose, fucking her as hard as he could, a rising wail of ecstasy tearing itself free from her throat till she come, convulsing around his dick, half sitting up, eyes wide in shock or something like alarm - just as he gave a hoarse shout and came deep within her.
