HALTED Chapter 14
The rain had long since ceased, and it was late in the morning when Duncan woke up.
His nostrils filled with the sweet smell of hay – and the equally sweet scent of the warm woman beside him, pressed up against him wearing the small tunic he'd managed to dress her in after she fell asleep.
She was omitting small, peaceful snoring sounds with her back to him; his left hand was caught in her hair, and his right – his right hand was cupping a soft breast, he suddenly realised. And despite the fabric between them – he was wearing a tunic and trousers himself – that soft feeling had an immediate effect on him. His manhood swelled and strained itself against his trousers – and her bottom.
This wouldn't do he realised - there was no way he would or could impose on her in her fragile position and considering the state of mind she might wake up in. He carefully removed his hands from her, then withdrew the offending bulk from her behind. She made a small sound and pulled her legs further up, but she didn't wake. He gently tugged her in the blanket again. Droolya was watching him from her little hay-nest by the door, but the cub was still sleeping against her belly.
He stood for a moment, trying to clear his mind and mentally lessen the imposing strain on his trousers. But his need was still pressing.. even the brief glance back at her, sleeping cuddled up in the hay increased his arousal. Her shapely figure, the curves of her..
He armed himself, then scrambled out the door. He quickly scanned the surroundings – all was quiet except for a few birds singing, and the expected low rustle from the leaves on the trees.
He hurried to the corner of the barn, then pulled out his manhood with almost punishing, hard moves - and started working at it with the familiar strokes and pulls, that had given him the needed relief so many times before.
He took no great pleasure in the act though, it was simply something he had to do to function properly again. But then he thought of the smiling, happy Elissa by the lake yesterday and his blood came rushing downwards, making his hips sway and his free hand reach out to support himself against the boards – and in a few moments, his manhood felt about to burst.
The image of her eagerly awaiting him, limbs spread out on the cape – lying open and ready for him – did the rest. He rested his forehead against the barn and stifled his unexpectedly loud moans against his left arm, as his right hand made those finishing, rapid movements.. and he spilled out his semen on the boards of the barn, groaning. Oh Elissa..
He took a few moments to compose himself. His legs were still trembling from the surprising ferocity of his discharge. Then he carefully wiped himself clean with a few damp leaves, and looked up the grassy hill.
It was a grey and cloudy day. But the hill was covered in fully flowering, bright yellow clusters of Nithucups and a few cows were grazing placidly among them. The sight put an instant smile on his face, as he conceived a brilliant idea of how to save his sweet woman from another loss, at least today.
He finally figured out the most convenient way to feed the hungry ebon cub. At first he thought it would be enough to simply dip his finger in the bowl of cowmilk, and let the cub lick it clean – but that would have taken all day. So he softened a thin, square piece of raw leather, stressed it in the middle and twisted it to resemble the teat of a mother eboncat. Then he let the little cat suck on the 'teat', while he carefully poured milk in it little by little. Droolya seemed very interested in the whole process, though not very eager at first to let go of 'her' cub. But as the suckling, contented little noises commenced from her foster child, she lay down with a sigh, her head resting on Duncan's thigh as he sat crosslegged with the cub on his lap.
When Elissa finally woke, she quietly joined the little group. Duncan revelled in her look of complete astonishment, as she sat down in front of them.
"But that's.. how did you..?!"
"Well, I had to milk a rather displeased cow for the first time in my life, while keeping her bull calf at bay – the rest was easy compared to that, I must admit!" he found himself hoping for her to look at him and smile – but she didn't, not quite – and she made no further comments.
"Here, I think he has had his fill for now." When he handed her the cub, he was expecting to at least meet her eyes – but she kept them focused on the animal and held its soft, black fur to her cheek, gently caressing the protruding belly. And she thanked him deeply, and in so many words - but her eyes never left the live, little bundle of black fur.
After that he thought to busy himself with something, so he took to cleaning and polishing their armour and weapons. He was truly at a loss; she kept a distance to him, spoke only when necessary.. They had so many things to talk about, but he had no idea where to start, when he couldn't even catch her eyes. He tried a couple of times to near her, both physically and with spoken words - but she seemed to somehow elude both. When she flinched and withdrew rapidly as her hand accidentally touched his - handing him some pieces of dried meat from the tunnel supplies – he decided he was in need of some time alone. And when she sounded quite indifferent, maybe even pleased to hear his decision to go hunting alone, he was just about to somehow force her to look into his eyes. But instead, he quickly took his leave.
He was quite lucky to stumble upon fresh deer tracks in the nearby wood, but today felt no thrill from hunting at all. Even as he killed and gutted the deer, his mind was reeling with thoughts of her.. he carefully went through all the events since they left the lake last evening, when all was still well between them. Of course he understood and respected she was grieving, but why was he not allowed to comfort her, why was she avoiding him – avoiding to consent to any of those feelings, she'd clearly stated to him last night? Had he said too little in return, was his tears and his agony not enough to reveal his true feelings? Did she somehow blame him for the death of her parents? Was she simply still in shock?
All he seemed to come up with were more questions, but not a single answer he felt to be the right one.
When he neared their hiding place, the dead deer slung over his shoulder, he could suddenly smell fire. All was still silent and seemingly peaceful - there was no smoke to be seen from the barn or anywhere else. He dropped the deer and quickly took to what shadows he could find, silencing his steps, weapons drawn as he hurried to the nearest corner to look through a crease between the boards. His mind had already pictured the worst possible scenario; her on the floor; lifeless with a burning arrow through her chest.. this horrid imagination so terrifyingly vivid to him - that the sight of the actual scene in there took him a moment to comprehend.
His fear turned to anger, then rage as he moved for the door to barge in.
AN: Reviewer Nick used in this chapter Nithu (Nithucups: small yellow flowers, much like buttercups) Thank you all kindly for reading and reviewing.