Volume 3, Chapter 25 – Torio: Defiance
Saeldur entered her tent a small while later, with a flask of rum he had somehow finagled from a leonal. She was sleeping on her stomach, her face mashed up unceremoniously against the furs. He snorted lightly as he sidestepped all her pieces of armor which lay scattered from the tent flap to her bed and pulled a blanket up to her shoulders. He brushed a strand of hair back and kissed her cheek lightly before leaving the flask of rum on the table and making his way back to the tent flap.
Fingers brushed her forehead; there was the faint, warm pressure of lips against her cheek, and she sighed for a moment...her hands twitched against furred blankets, reaching out...but there was no one next to her.
Her eyes slit open; the lamps hitched on the tent pole had burned down slightly, and she could make out a dim figure by the door.
Sand...? Her heart thumped once, heavily, and she almost said his name aloud when she caught the bluish glint of light on hair much too long to belong to a beloved sarcastic wizard...and she remembered where she was.
"Saeldur." The "s" that had been halfway out of her mouth turned into his name, and she pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Come back."
Saeldur turned back and silently made his way to her side. "Torio. I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I brought rum." He pointed to the flask on the table. "You have no idea what I had to do to get it. I had to promise a leonal I'd write a passage about him in my books. See? I'm altering the course of history for you again." He knelt by the low bed. "A little more rested? Less than an hour has passed. Still another two or three hours until midnight."
Torio stretched slightly, chuckling. "You bargained with a leonal and altered history for a flask of rum?" She leaned forward, squinting in the dim light to where the flask glinted cheerfully on the table, a bright object in the relative emptiness of her tent. "I'm truly starting to look forward to reading this excerpt of yours. If you keep this up, the entire account will consist of elaborate blandishments of certain alcohol-providing figures, and only a few sentences describing the actual battle." She smiled at him, her sleep-muddled mind still half-drowsy and pleasantly warm. Her fingers reached up, tracing along the edge of his jaw momentarily. "You didn't disturb me," she said quietly.
Saeldur leaned forward, draping his arms across the furred mattress of the bed. "Well, if you won't tell, I certainly won't tell and we'll be able to spend the rest of the war in a pleasantly drunk state." He shifted his weight so that his shadow fell across her face. Her cheek had reddish indent marks from the fur and he nearly laughed out loud at the vision before him. Torio - groggy, with a flask of rum and a sleepy face - and Torio - the strategist who saved Gwillikens and was now supposed to save Elysium...
He bent down and kissed her, pressing his lips full on against hers, his hands reaching up and running through her short brown hair, pulling her face to his.
Torio made a soft noise at the back of her throat; fingers pulled gently along her hair, pressing her face forward. A warm, soft mouth opened over hers, and she gently pushed her tongue forward, rolling it against his. There was no slight tang of magic that clung to her nostrils, and then she wondered why she expected such a thing. Her fingers came up, hands cupping his face, sliding down his neck, over his chest; she was at an awkward angle, half lying on her side while he kneeled at the edge of her bed, but she managed it anyway; her arms caught around him, gently pulling, attempting to draw him up onto the bed.
Saeldur followed her insistent pull, slipping underneath the woolen blankets and lying half on top of her and half besides her. Her body was incredibly warm as his hand moved from her face, down her shoulders and arms and around her waist. He began kissing her hard, fervently; her softness and curves, her gentle touches and sweet scent arousing and comforting.
They could both be dead tomorrow. Tomorrow? Try a few hours. For the first time since coming to Elysium, Saeldur was genuinely frightened of what the future would bring. And quite suddenly and inexplicably, he needed this woman beside him the way he needed air. The fear rolled in with his passion and even if it was only for a few hours, he wanted to take the minutes and make the most of them as if it would be the last joyful act of his life. He pressed his cheek against hers and exhaled, his fingers tentatively pulling at the bottom of her tunic.
Torio's heart was thumping; her head pressed back into the padded cot beneath her as his mouth moved hungrily against hers. Her memories twisted like a roiling labyrinth for a moment; there should be a wooden table behind her back, and wizard's robes clothing the body that lay against her instead of rough spun linen...
...and yet the elf's cool hands sliding down her neck, the pointed ears sweeping gracefully against the side of his head, the dark hair spilling from the high forehead; they were utterly familiar things, that smacked of home and normalcy and comfort. Sand wasn't here; she could have left a trail of books leading straight to her tent flap and he would never come, not with the stretch of the planes and a strange woman between them.
She let her thoughts sink into the waiting, peaceful forgetfulness that waited at the edge of her memories like a faithful watch hound and sighed, pressing up against Saeldur's body; she felt his breath trickle along the side of her face, felt his fingers pull at her tunic. She turned her face, nuzzling the shell of his ear, pressing her lips against the upswept tip as she gently placed her hand over his and began sliding her tunic upwards along her torso.
Saeldur sighed lowly as Torio's mouth found his ear and he held himself still as her lips explored the pointed pinna. They would have to be fairly quiet; the tent provided no measure of privacy and even as the arousal grew between his legs, he was vaguely aware of people moving about just outside the tent. He very slowly lifted the tunic over her skin, over her rounded breasts, lifting her gently from the cot so that he could slip the clothing over her arms and shoulders. He very carefully placed it on the ground besides them and then turned back to her. His fingers tenderly traced down from her throat, in between her breasts; her skin was so hot it seemed to light his blood on fire.
He kissed the top of her neck, where her jaw and her ears met; then he delicately took her earlobe in between his teeth while his hand cupped and kneaded her breasts. The low light of the tent had softened all her features beyond its already normally gentle curves. "You're very beautiful - vanima – Torio..."
Torio sucked in a deep breath, her eyes falling shut; faintly, through the thin fabric of the tent around them, she heard the laughter of someone in response to a conversation; booted, hooved, clawed, padded feet all trod past and around, and the sounds of snoring lupinals threaded beneath it all from the other tents around her. By gods, they'd have to keep it down or they'd have quite an audience...
His fingers were cool against her flesh, her nipples peaking instantly in the chill air and beneath his palm. Her own skin flushed with heat, every pounding of her pulse seeming to send small rivulets of fire through her veins. Icy one, you seem to be melting...
And you have melted, haven't you? She had been cold, so cold...empty and chilled, feeling nothing, and it had all been effectively chipped away by another elf's caresses, his slightly embarrassed kindnesses and uncomplicated acceptance of what she was, despite how complicated they both were. She had melted, and felt...and when it had been ripped away, she had bled. Pelor's clerics had healed her body, but she had been wandering since, wounded and empty, unwhole, unable to take pleasure in even the simplest acts, unable to forget.
Now Saeldur's warm breath exhaled over her neck, his mouth closed over the lobe of her ear, and her back curved, pressing her body up into his hands, forcing her fingers to work slowly; they were trembling as she pulled at the stitched laces holding his tunic closed, drawing them through the eyeholes, pulling the fabric apart and down off of his shoulders. The tunic was peeled away and she felt his cool torso press down against hers, his skin smooth and pale and perfect. "I've not heard Faerunian elvish in a long time," she whispered to him lightly, her mouth tracing along his throat between her words. She slid a hand up through his luxurious hair, while the other traced down his spine, following the smooth ridge to the waistline of his trews, where her fingers danced around his waist, slipping between their bodies her fingers stroking the growing hardness between his legs. "Quet ta nae amin au, kesir en' Toril." Tell me again, elf of Toril.
Saeldur muffled his moans by pressing his mouth hard against her neck. She knew Elvish and for some reason, a human knowing Elvish caused a sharp longing to shoot through him. He pressed his hips forward eagerly into her waiting hands. "Lle naa vanima, Torio." You are beautiful. He shrugged off the tunic, letting it fall beside her shirt and then began fumbling with her trousers, his fingers feeling overlarge and clumsy in his excitement. It seemed to take ages but finally, somehow, he managed to loosen the fastenings and began tugging the coarse fabric over her backside, his hands caressing her skin liberally. "Lle naa vanima."
Torio's breath came out ragged, strained, her body shaking slightly with the effort of making sure each movement was slow and silent; she lifted her hips off the bed, allowing him to slide the trousers down her legs. His hands were unfathomably cool, agile, and he ran his palms across her flesh as if he could draw her entire body in through his fingers. She pushed her hips up farther, massaging his thickened, engorged shaft through the fabric of his pants, while she began untying his trousers with her free hand. Her own trews were pushed down around her ankles, and with a flick of her feet, they dropped off the edge of the bed, and suddenly the thin layer of fabric that still lay between them was miles too much. She quickly undid the rest of the laces and pulled the waistband loose, pushing them down off of his narrow hips.
Saeldur rolled on top of her the minute he was fully unclothed, rubbing his body against her smooth skin. His thick shaft was pressed up between her legs; he could feel the damp heat radiating from the apex of her body. He realized that the low lamplight was casting shadows on the walls of the tent and he pulled the blanket over their bodies, hoping to hide the very obvious silhouette of a naked man and woman. He buried his face against her breast, running his tongue around her erect, pink nipples, his ears pressed against her rapidly beating heart. "Mani uma lle merna?" What do you want? He lifted his head slightly, staring with a dialated gaze into her grey eyes.
Torio whimpered, biting back a cry as Saeldur's tongue flicked over her skin. She plunged her fingers into his hair, holding his head against her for a moment; she bent her head down, closing her lips around his ear and running her tongue against its edge, sighing lightly. She tasted salt from his skin on her tongue, and a dry, smoked scent filled her nostrils as she inhaled, her lips pulling on his ear; the smell of burning lamp oil, the days travels on his skin, a thick, heady scent that carried lust and excitement and quiet desperation with it, and she breathed it all in until she felt nearly drunk with it.
After a moment she whispered, "Miqul amin." Kiss me. She lifted her hips, rubbing them against his body, her muscles twitching at the feel of his lengthened shaft rubbing along her already moist folds. "Sinome." Here.
Saeldur nodded imperceptibly and released her nipple from his mouth, letting his lips wander down her stomach and pulling the blanket over his head, plunging into a diffused darkness. Her knees were lifted slightly and it was like he was in a tent in a tent. He spread her legs a little further, his eyesight still keen in the dimness and searching for the wet, pink nub between her folds. He kissed both her thighs and pressed his mouth against her waiting body, the blanket sealing in her heat and her musky feminine scent. He could feel her trembling and he gently pressed her down into the hurriedly set up cot with one arm, while his other arm caressed her thigh, marveling at the silken smoothness of it.
Torio grit her teeth, her hips pressing up into his mouth as she felt it close around the swell between her legs; the heat built rapidly underneath the blanket, and through it all she could feel his cool fingers against her leg, his hair shifting and slithering as it brushed along the insides of her thighs, sending shivering spikes up through her spine, even as he lapped between her legs.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and she let out a long, slow breath, her entire body quaking, her fingers digging into the furs beneath her. Quiet, quiet, quiet...
His tongue slid over a particularly sensitive spot, and her muscles spasmed, molten heat rolling through her skin. Her hips bucked, her knuckles whitened... "Saeldur," she whispered, the name rolling into a moan, "…remaining silent is not...gods...not one of my strong points."
Saeldur lifted his mouth from her body a fraction of an inch. "As an ambassador, I should hope not." He poked his head up from the blanket, his eyes bright as he gazed up from between her legs. "Then talk to me about...ahh...something you know a lot about. Tell me about yourself. Pretend I'm interviewing you for your historical entry." He ducked back down, the blanket settling around his ears and pressed his tongue now around her wet opening, probing gently. His own desires were building impossibly; he could feel the tip of his member brushing against the soft furs of the bed every time he moved and he pushed his mouth firmly into her, muffling a slipped groan.
Torio writhed against the cot, her breath beginning to heave through her lungs, her hips thrusting gently, erratically, against Saeldur's mouth. "About...myself," she breathed out. "I'm...not positive how old I am. I grew up in Luskan...I was a...oh gods..a courtesan...before my former master found me and took me away..." It was strange, to be reciting the rather grim memories of her past while her entire body was wracked with pleasure; both Saeldur's mouth and the heavy fog that was continuously claiming ground on her memory was making it difficult for her to concentrate. "I love books...they're comforting. There's no judgement found between pages; I love wine...intelligent conversation...poetry..." A moan escaped her lips and she still managed to feel a flush of embarrassment at the last. She watched the shadows skitter across the tent fabric high above their heads, her eyes half-lidded and heavy with passion, her chest rising and falling, the furs beneath her brushing along the skin of her back.
She whimpered, her muscles clenching low in her stomach, pulsing rhythmically as she grew closer to release. " Saeldur...please..." She reached down, pulling at his shoulders, attempting to draw him up against her body once more.
Saeldur slowly and carefully moved up the length of her body, half an eye on the shadows he was casting. "Torio, lye myr cali sesaer si jhas os." We should have turned the lamp off. He pressed himself down against her, his engorged member between her legs. "Books, wine, intelligent conversation... I'm not one for poetry ...but you're a woman after my own heart it seems." He nuzzled her neck and gently began pushing himself inside, smothering his breathing against her flesh as he felt her furrow envelope him. When every inch of him was in, he closed his eyes and let out a long, slow exhale, whispering hoarsely, "Oh gods - you feel so good."
Torio stifled a soft laugh against the side of his neck, that quickly turned into a sharp, indrawn breath as he pushed his length inside of her. "Amin cael bhen aer, Saeldur... amin shyr varaes na eirdinae darn llie." I have human eyes, Saeldur...I would rather be able to see you. Her fingers traced over his back, pulling the blanket up over their bodies, her hips lifting up off the cot and pressing against him; she bent her legs, sliding them around his hips under the blanket, pressing him down hard against her body. An imperceptible, soft sigh escaped her lips...she felt completely enveloped, surrounded by furs and soft cloth and a warm body that was sliding, thrusting up inside of her...
"Sweet Deneir," she breathed out raggedly. "forget the lamp...we should have traveled miles from anyone and pitched an entirely different camp."
Nothing an invisibility spell, or a silence spell...or a telepathy spell couldn't fix...
No. She wouldn't let her mind travel down that path. She tightened her legs around the elf's body, catching the gleam of silver as the light played over his eyes, and kissed him fiercely, plunging her tongue past his lips. The wound was barely closed at it was...no need to tear it open once again.
"Amin shyr varaes lle thaer amin." I would rather you feel me. Saeldur laughed quietly as he began pushing very gently inside her, the cot making slight creaking noises with each of his subtle movements. "Not a bad idea, Torio, darling. We might have to get a different bed too." He returned her passionate kisses, his hands cupping her face, his fingers toying with the fringes of her short hair. Even the slightest motion was sending curls of pleasure throughout his body; it seemed as though being forced into being very still and stealthy was magnifying all sensations. He began moving his hips in wide, slow circles, his mouth still wrapped around Torio's tongue.
Torio's strangled moan was smothered in Saeldur's mouth, her legs shifting and tightening reflexively around him; each of his movements sent his body rubbing against the already sensitized mound between her legs, while his member delved inside of her. Her fingers dug into his back, pressing the frustrated need to be quiet out through her fingertips, feeling his smooth give under her touch.
"Thaer lle?" Feel you? She slid one hand up his back, through the thick hair that spilled from his head, tracing up his neck, under her fingers found the lobeless line of his ear. "I could oblige you, I suppose." She began rubbing the delicate, ridged ear, sliding her fingers along its edge, pinching the sharpened tips, tracing her mouth along the underside of his jaw to his throat.
Saeldur moaned loudly and then tried to cover it up with a cough, his face flushed with bliss. His body instinctively began thrusting more quickly, his drives forward as carefully controlled as he could manage. He tugged the blanket that had been sliding off their writhing bodies back over their shoulders but he was becoming painfully aware that for all their efforts to be hidden, it was probably as obvious as daylight what was going on.
There was an insistent rhythmic pulse now throbbing deep inside his shaft and he gave Torio a series of swift kissing along her neck, feeling her mouth on his own jaw. "Darling...I'm... close."
As soon as he picked up his pace, her body gave an instinctive spasm, the muscles low in her abdomen clenching unbearably once again. Her head fell back against the furs as she sucked in a deep, uneven breath, her chest rising and falling against Saeldur's body rapidly. She tried to still her breathing, tried to still her movements, but then his mouth trailed along her neck and his low, lovely voice whispered darling and she pressed her face forward against his shoulder, clinging to him. To hell with being discreet.
She unwound her legs from around his waist, the blanket rustling as she pressed her feet flat against the cot, feeling fur bunch between her toes; she pushed her hips upwards, and began riposting against him, the sounds of their hips smacking together somewhat muffled beneath the blanket. She felt the walls of her canal pulse, tighten, felt heat build at the apex of her legs, and then suddenly she climaxed, her mouth closing around his flesh, gently clamping down on his shoulder as a muffled sob tore from her throat...
She pushed up against him, her hips grinding upwards and forwards even though the space between them couldn't possibly get any smaller. She clung to him, whimpering and gasping against his skin as her body shuddered, pleasure suffusing her entirely.
Saeldur held her close as she shook near silently against him, his shoulder smarting under her teeth. She had a dazed, glowing look and he gently turned her face to his, kissing her sweet lips tenderly. He could hardly keep his legs and hips still and he let the cresting feeling build until he thought he would go drunk from it all. Saeldur lifted his hips and speared her, once, hard, their bodies making the unmistakable noise of passion and then he came. "Oh gods, darling, my darling..." his voice was a deep growl and his eyes shut tightly as his whole body began rocking into hers, his seed spurting out with each forward thrust. His breath was catching his throat; the ecstasy of it all dizzying. With one final moan, he relaxed utterly on top of her, his whole body going limp with satisfaction.
He pressed his face to her chest, his arms draped over her body. "Well, you've definitely earned your place in my version of history..."
Torio let out a quiet, short laugh, her voice thick with satiation. She shifted, sighing lightly as she felt his slackened member slide from her...she wrapped an arm around him staring up at the tent ceiling for a long moment. The warmth of her release was slowly being replaced with a bittersweet ache that sank low in her chest, and she idly stroked the thick hair that scattered down his shoulders, fingering silky strands slightly damp from his moistened skin. Underneath the pangs of guilt, the self-righteous indignation and the raw hurt that still prowled around the edges of her heart, she found that she missed him desperately. The body that lay gently over hers, breathing deeply and holding her lightly reminded her sharply of times before when she had lain, just like this...
She kept her voice light. "I most certainly hope you won't be adding this part to the history books...Otherwise your entire account will likely be the most scandalous historical document ever written." The sounds around their tent had died down, mostly; many creatures had found nooks and crannies to sleep in and the oil of her own lamp was almost completely burned down, the flame flickering haphazardly and casting shadows crazily along the fabric of the tent.
She shifted, sat up, and slipped from the cot, steeling across the room and catching up the flask of rum from the table before slipping back, crawling underneath the blanket. "Since you fought so valiantly to acquire this, it would be a shame to let it sit."
Saeldur propped himself up and eyed the woman before him. "I do hope you enjoy it. I have no idea the make or stock or anything about the rum except that it contains alcohol." He flopped on the bed, closing his eyes sleepily. "A funny thing to be doing before war. Or maybe not so strange." His lips quirked up in a small smile. "You're the battle-weary tactician. Is it always like this?" Even with his eyes closed, he could imagine her naked body beside him and he reached out, letting his hands fall across her waist, brushing the small of her back lightly.
The rum had a slightly heady taste to it, spiced and sweet; she lowered the flask after a moment, staring down at the relaxed features of the elf lying next to her as her skin prickled pleasantly, tingling underneath his fingers. "I suppose it is," she said quietly, after a moment; she thought of the far off Crossroads Keep and its inhabitants, sneaking through hallways at night and creeping into beds not their own. She had been the only one who was made to creep back out again in the early dusk light, and a good thing for that, too; one of the only reasons she had never been caught en route from Sand's room was that they were the only ones in the entire Keep who really needed to hide what they were doing.
She took another drink from the flask, her throat burning as the liquid seared a line straight down to her belly. She set the flask down and nestled against the bed, nuzzling her face close to his. "It's not so odd when you think about it," she whispered, her eyes flickering over the smooth planes of his face. "Considering death is so close...your fate is no longer as solidly in your hands as you might think." A finger threaded across his cheek, tracing the high elven cheekbones. "I suppose it's a defiance of death." Her mouth curled in a smile as she shut her eyes, her voice tinged heavily with sleep. "The proverbial crow of the rooster..."
Saeldur kissed the corner of her mouth and tasted a bit of the rum. "Well, I hope that we can continue to defy death in the coming days, Torio. Literally and figuratively." He began rubbing her back soothingly even as he pulled the blanket back on their cooling bodies. "If this war starts soon, they'll have to give us five minutes to get dressed." He kissed her again. "You need sleep."
Torio sighed, laughing lightly as she settled against the elf's cooler body, relaxing into sleep. "I was sleeping, master historian, until a rather charming elf slipped into my tent with a dearly procured bottle of rum." Her words were barely a murmur, and it only took a few moments for her to drift off, the tired lines around her eyes softening as she fell asleep once more.
Saeldur kissed her forehead, her nose and then her lips and then snuggled beside her on the small cot, falling asleep instantly, his breathing relaxed and easy.