Arda: The Captain's Fancy

by Annie Windsor

  Krysta. Hallas.

  At some point, his dizzy mind wondered—had it been hours since he first joined with her?

  Days?

  A week?

  There, in the half-dark of his simply-furnished bedroom, standing at the side of his large four-poster with Krysta on her knees before him, he thought it was the latter. Days. They had been together for a handful of days now, and had done nothing but eat, bathe, and explore each other’s passions.

  A stellar week. Perhaps more. If only he could stop time and the Barung, he would keep her to himself for months. Perhaps a year. Or two.

  He stroked the top of her head as it moved slowly back and forth. The feel of her warm, wet lips on his cock blotted out all things but the rhythm of her sucking. The single window of his room, located directly in front of him and bound with energy bonds, blurred just like the energy-bound door to his left. Between the door and the room’s only closet, a single long mirror reflected their passion when he glanced in that direction. It also reflected the rumpled bed behind him, and beyond that, the room’s single long dresser, with five tapers flickering in holders along the top.

  They had been through many candles thus far, and they had been at it many times in the bed, tearing the covers, kicking them aside.

  And there were many times yet to be.

  Krysta ran her tongue along the length of his erection, purring her pleasure as she once more sampled his length, his thickness.

  Big. Thick. Just right, she had told him the night before, or was it yesterday? You fill me, munas.

  And each time they joined—fucked, as she liked to say, an Earth word she had picked up from the mates of her brothers—the sensations seemed fresh and new. His hallas never did the same thing twice, in quite the same way.

  Today (or was it night?), she was exploring. Teasing as much as fucking.

  “So good,” she managed to whisper as she slipped his cock free of her soft mouth, only to claim it again and take it slowly, tip to head to shaft, deeper and deeper, until it seemed she swallowed him.

  And then once more, she turned him loose completely, lifted his cock, and took his bollocks gently in her mouth.

  Darkyn groaned his approval, feeling the electric wash of sensation. The tip of her tongue traced each contour until he thought he couldn’t stand another moment. Fighting the urge to come, he willed her to continue.

  She did, easing his balls from her lips and returning once more to his cock. The sensation was dizzying. The sight of so willful a woman bending her knees to suck him dizzied him almost as much.

  “Take me,” he demanded, thrusting forward.

  Krysta purred again, sucking him deeper and deeper still. Sublime. Perfect.

  She had him by the hips, digging her fingers in, not controlling his cock at all, leaving that to him like a dare.

  You bastard. I can take whatever you have to give…

  The words she flung at him that first night rushed back, drawing a growl from his depths as he rammed himself into her mouth.

  She gripped his hips harder. Sucked harder. The edge of her teeth brushed his flesh, making him gasp with pain, with delight.

  Hallas.

  As if in response, she flicked her tongue rapidly over the top of his shaft, all the while sliding him in and out of the ring of her lips. One hand slipped from his hip back to his bollocks, cradling, squeezing ever so gently.

  Darkyn still fought to hold back. He would let her control some, but never too much. This woman did not like her men out of control. That much he could sense, mind contact or no. As a commander, she would only submit, only trust an even more powerful leader. No matter what, she would never submit in lifestyle. Only in the bedroom, in sex. That much he could easily determine, too.

  Fine.

  That would be enough, and more than enough.

  “Take me,” he commanded again, and once more, Krysta obliged by sucking him deep as he drove in at will.

  Darkyn knew he was at the very edge, the absolute moment. The next stroke, and he might spill himself. He started to pull out, intent on lifting her up to the bed, but she held tight. Sucked harder. Deeper.

  Never underestimate an Ardani female in full mating fervor…

  Darkyn roared and grabbed her by the hair, but it was too late. Her fingernails gouged deep into his thigh. She gripped his balls with perfect pressure and sucked so hard Darkyn thought he might come unhinged at his joints. His orgasm ripped at him, tearing his seed from his cock, and still she sucked, draining him. Making him as much hers as she was his.

  When she finished, she rocked back on her haunches, staring up at him, mouth swollen, gaze hooded, grinning like some naughty cat.

  Another dare.

  What will you do with me, Darkyn Weil? Sha. I had my way. I took control. Now what will you do?

  The questions were written on every feature of her taut, pa-lined body.

  Darkyn felt the smarting on his thigh where she had clawed him, and he grinned back at her.

  “What do you want, hallas?”

  Her eyes blazed. “Whatever you have left to give.”

  Gods, but she was all dare!

  He snatched her up as she laughed and held her against him, feeling the sizzle of her pa blending with his, coursing over the stone in his chest. When he kissed her, pushing his mouth into hers, she parted her lips and flicked her tongue against his just as she had flicked her tongue against his cock.

  Insatiable.

  Darkyn bit her lip none to gently, making her moan, then asked, “What if I carry you to the meditation room, tie you to the pole, and fuck you until you faint?”

  “Do it,” she challenged, “if you think you can.”

  Darkyn lifted her and turned toward the door, then reconsidered. “No. Because you want that. I’ll do what I want instead.”

  Krysta struggled in his arms, a mock struggle, and gave him a pouting expression that made him laugh. He turned back to the bed, tossed her on the black-hide spread face-down, and swatted her fine ass.

  She wriggled and stretched out, leaving her ass vulnerable, and he swatted it again. The imprint of his hand stood out red against the soft silver-white of her skin.

  “I can take more than that,” she said in a coarse, waiting voice.

  Darkyn sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her roughly across his lap, keeping her face down, pointed toward the door—and the mirror. He positioned her wet quim on top of his cock, let her breasts dangle against his leg, and smacked her ass again.

  She moaned loudly, and he felt tingles all along his pa from her excitement. She struggled again, this time almost getting free, and Darkyn quickly bound her ankles with energy bonds. Before she could react, he pulled her hands behind her back and bound her wrists, too.

  “You’re at my mercy,” he said, stroking her shoulders and hand-printed ass then, glorying in the burning feel of her pa on his thighs and cock.

  “You talk big,” she murmured, hunching against his shaft, burning him even more with her silvery bush. “Prove it.”

  Darkyn grabbed her by her pa-coated hair and partially lifted her head so that she could see them in the mirror on the wall.

  “Watch me,” he ordered as he slapped her ass again.

  She wriggled on his lap, moaning.

  “Be still.” He smacked her harder, bringing the red again, and a look of absolute rapture to her face.

  His swelling cock rubbed against her quim as he slapped her ass twice more, then left his hand in place and forced his thumb between her cheeks, into her tight hole.

  This made her gasp. Her head tried to droop, but he held it up.

  “Watch. Keep your eyes open. And be still, or I will stop, I assure you. I’m a man who doesn’t fear waiting…and waiting…and waiting…for the right reasons.”

  He forced his thumb deeper, then slipped his other four fingers beneath to the hot, drenched opening of her quim. Teasing her as she had teased him, he toyed with the opening, pleased to see s
weat break across her brow as she strove not to move.

  Abruptly, he pulled his thumb and fingers free and smacked her ass, harder than ever. The sound of the pop seemed to fill the room, along with her sharp cry of mingled pain and joy.

  “Is that what you want?” he asked, staring at her in the mirror, laying over his lap, breasts with hard nipples slapping against his leg, head raised by his fistful of hair, bound hand and foot, ass brilliant red from his spanking. “Or do you want me to fuck you with my hand?”

  “Fuck yourself,” she said playfully, and he smacked her ass again. Tears came up in her eyes, but she had a smile on her lips.

  Darkyn felt his erection grow painfully hard against her dripping quim. The tender flesh of her ass glowed pink before him, and he smacked it again and again and again until they were both bucking with the rhythm.

  Without warning, he forced his thumb into her ass again, and again rammed his other four fingers home in her quim, reaching as deep as he could. He felt her inner walls spasm as she screamed, and it took all this strength to hold her head up.

  “Keep watching, hallas.” He thrust his hand against her, pushing deeper into her ass and channel. “Know who your Ta is. Know that only your sha can possess you like this, now and always.”

  Krysta kept her eyes wide as he fucked her with his fingers and hand, rocking her back and forth. She moaned with each forceful push, struggling to spread her bound legs and give him better access.

  He was merciless, holding tight to her hair, keeping her eyes on the mirror as he took her. As he squeezed his thumb and fingers together inside her and rammed into her harder.

  She cried out, eyes rolling back as she came, shuddering against his hard cock. Her ass and quim clenched on his fingers, and still he kept at her. Thrusting, pushing into the trembling moisture, loving the hot pa on his erection.

  “Who am I, Krysta?”

  She groaned and trembled, close to another orgasm.

  Darkyn teased her, slowing the strokes and pressure, making his strokes gentle until she squirmed.

  “Be still!” he commanded forcefully, and met her wide eyes in the mirror. “Who am I?”

  “My sha,” she said, trailing into a groan as he once more plunged his fingers as deep as they could go. “My munas.”

  “Yes,” he said, rocking her hard on his hand, rubbing quim to cock, pressing, pushing inside her until she exploded again.

  And then he abruptly pulled out his hand.

  Krysta looked shocked and disappointed, and barely conscious, then wide awake and excited as he stood holding her carefully in his arms, turning her around to the bed so she lay face down, ass up, knees on the floor.

  He released the bonds on her ankles and spread her legs, but left her arms bound behind her back. Her ass still glowed red from his slaps.

  Darkyn thought his cock might burst as he reached down and gently turned her head toward the mirror again.

  “Watch,” he commanded. “If you close your eyes, I stop.”

  She trembled as he positioned his cock at the opening of her quim and teased, sliding in, then slipping back. Sliding in, then slipping back.

  Bending over her, still not fully inside her, he reached around her bound arms, lifted her slightly, and grabbed her nipples.

  As he pinched them, she screamed.

  “Noisy, noisy,” he muttered. “Shame. Can’t have that.”

  Concentrating hard, he sent an energy bond around her mouth, gagging her but leaving her plenty of room to breathe.

  She bit against it, wriggling, and groaning.

  Damn you, her eyes said. Fuck me. Fuck me!

  He used her nipples to pull her back down to the bed, then pull her against him as he rammed his cock deep into her quim. Again and again he slammed into her wet channel as she screamed against the energy-gag. Her face was a study in pleasure. Her eyes stayed wide, though defiant and misty.

  “Harder,” she managed around the gag. “Harder!”

  Darkyn roared and fucked her as she demanded, planting his cock to the bollocks and drawing it back, then planting it again. His own orgasm was so close, he didn’t know how he could hold it, but he did.

  He pinched her nipples as he pulled them, dragging her toward him for each penetrating push.

  She came sweating, howling, convulsing against his shaft, and he couldn’t hold himself another second. With his own wild howl, he emptied himself in her in three shuddering, impossibly deep thrusts.

  Then he lay atop her, chest to back, cock in quim, staring into the mirror with her as he released her energy bonds.

  He wasn’t sure he could move, or that he wanted to.

  Krysta smiled at him, stretching her arms and glancing at him through the reflection.

  “I didn’t faint yet,” was all she said.

  Chapter 7

  Krysta slept fitfully, dreaming of an oddly growing darkness and the glare of Darkyn’s falcon. The damnable bird had come and gone since that first mating, always with cries of jealous disapproval. Of all things, a little feathered raptor was driving Krysta to her first possessive moments as woman of Darkyn Weil’s house and heart.

  Guardian had best learn to respect me, she decided in her groggy half-waking state. I’m not above jessing her until she finds her manners.

  And yet part of her appreciated the bird’s wary loyalty to Darkyn. Krysta had no doubt the falcon would die to defend him. There was honor in that.

  Morning’s brighter light drew her into full awareness, and she found herself alone in her mating bed. Her sha had taken his leave, but Krysta sensed she wasn’t alone. Her flesh crawled with the sense of someone studying her, someone despising her.

  Battle-wary, she lay still as the dead and cut her eyes left, then right.

  Nothing.

  When she glanced toward the foot of the bed, she saw the source of malevolent energy. Guardian, thumper mouse in beak, glared at her like a disgusting interloper.

  “Will you hate me, then?” Krysta kept her voice even and kind as she addressed the raptor. “We have the same aims, you and I. And we both care for him.”

  Guardian shivered, ruffling feathers, as if to say, We shall see. Then she was gone, leaving a single black plume at Krysta’s feet. Unable to resist the allure of the unusual feather, she sat up and reached for it. A shock hit her the moment she gripped it. A force driving her backward and down, down into unknown depths of cold, starless space. Everything vanished, even her body, and yet she could feel it, and feel its pain.

  He is coming, a voice informed her. Out of all time, from a distance that did naught but fuel his hatred and power. He will kill you if he can.

  Krysta struggled against suffocation. She felt cut loose from life, from sanity as a weight drove down on her chest. No air. No air!

  The dispassionate voice seemed to sigh. Your allies are coming. Your allies are here. Still, only you can hold the six to their purpose. Fail, and it ends here, now. Fail, and everything ends.

  Knowing she would die before she escaped this bizarre trap, Krysta sought to crush the feather in the grip of her phantom-body. She hadn’t the strength to move.

  Had the falcon murdered her, then? Did it carry some poison in its pinions?

  “Hallas.” Darkyn’s voice sluiced across her crushed flesh, washing away the darkness as if it never existed. Bright light blinded her even through her closed lids.

  Krysta realized she could open her eyes now, and did so slowly. Her sha stood beside her bed, dressed in a tanned animal skin shirt and breeches, with his unique streaked hair pulled into a neat ponytail. His pupils were large, and his glazed look suggested he had taken firemylk.

  Shaking inside, Krysta sat up. Nothing seemed amiss. The bedclothes were not even disturbed.

  Did I dream it all? But…no, the feather is still in my hand. Crushed.

  “I have brought some of Akad’s best elixir.” Darkyn held out a small vial, clearly unaware of her inner distress. “I want you to take it. It is time my p
eople see you, if only for a short while.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” she whispered as she took the vial, hearing the tremble in her response. She drank the tangy liquid in one gulp, hoping it would soothe her nerves.

  Darkyn knelt by the bed as she sat up, swinging her legs over the side. He positioned himself between her knees, so that they were chest to chest. The soft feel of his shirt against her nipples made her shiver from warmth instead of the fear of her night-terror. It seemed far away now, that dream, as she gazed into the hot yellow depths of her sha’s eyes.

  “Do not fear The People.” Darkyn pressed his cheek to hers. “They will welcome you without question.”

  “Like Guardian?” Krysta stifled a laugh. “She has been less than accommodating.”

  Darkyn’s mirth rumbled against her ear, sending chills of pleasure along her neck and spine. “She’s been my woman so long she forgets her place. Give her time, hallas. I think you can wait out a jealous falcon.”

  “I-I had a terrible dream just now,” Krysta said, deciding honesty was best, since there was already enough deception between them. “Of an evil thing coming to kill us. I thought I had been poisoned.”

  “Barung.” Darkyn pulled back and studied her with gentle affection in his gaze. “You sense it, just as The People, only filtered by your lesser psi gifts. It comes, true enough. We plan to stop it. We must stop it.”

  Krysta blinked. In my dream, the voice called it he, not it. Perhaps that was just my mind’s understanding. “Such nightmares are common, then?”

  “And growing more so.” Darkyn nodded. “Which is another reason we must make an appearance. My people need the comfort. My presence reassures them.”

  A distant part of Krysta thought to make a wisecrack at that statement, but she heard the earnest truth in her mate’s tone. He was Ta, after all. No different than Ki Tul’Mar was to the people of Arda. Darkyn was right. He was the leader of his people, and if they had nightmares like hers, they would need to see him.

  He helped her up, pulled her into the protective steel of his embrace, and kissed her. Even with the firemylk working through her blood, Krysta’s senses opened wide to the rough sweetness of his tongue, the rhythm of his breath, his smell of leather and man’s musk. Her body thrummed as he stroked her back and cupped her bare ass, and she moved her hips automatically against his growing erection.