Alice slept for many hours. Occasionally she would murmur or cry out, but Uncas was able to soothe her with gentle words in Mohican and by carefully stroking her tangled blonde locks. He sat upright beside her, counting her every inhale and exhale, moving only to stoke the fire and keep the room warm for her.
Finally, when night had fallen yet again and Uncas felt his own body becoming weary, Alice stirred and bolted upright in bed. Immediately, Uncas was beside her, wrapping his hands around her arms and keeping her still, shushing her as she looked about in terror and confusion.
"You're safe, you're safe," he whispered. "I am here. It is over."
She blinked her big gray eyes up at him in disbelief. "Uncas?" she asked, her voice ragged from disuse. "Uncas? Is it really you?"
"Yes, yes, 'tis me," he said, easing her back onto the warm blankets. "But you must rest. You are very hurt and you must rest."
She sat up again eagerly, pain lashing across her face as she did so.
"No, no!" she cried out happily. "Rest! Rest! When you are here with me? Never!"
And with that, she nearly crawled into his lap, laughing with tears of joy as her smooth naked flesh rubbed against him. He moaned with desire and pleasure, smiling deeply to see her so happy, so aware…so Alice. Yet he knew she must be in pain, that every touch upon her skin must feel like fire, so he kept his hands away from her body, only stroking her hair.
She continued to croon and cuddle against him, babbling incoherently about how she thought she would never see him again. His whole body thrilled with elation and he beamed down at her.
She kept saying his name over and over again, kissing his face and neck adoringly as she did so. As much as he longed to do the same to her, to stroke her silky exposed skin and squeeze her plump curves, he dared not.
"What is it?" she asked, a hurt look growing on her face as she realized he was holding her stiffly. "Why will you not embrace me? Why do you look at me so?"
Before he could speak, a shadow fell over her face. She went silent and tense. Spurning his lap, she crawled back out of his arms, laying flat on the pallet and then turning away from him. He could not help but notice that this motion left her soft round bottom completely visible to him, and he had to control another moan while he focused on her strangely altered mood.
"Alice?" he asked, reaching out again to hold her hair in his hands, to have some piece of her touching him. "Why do you turn from me?"
"I know why you won't embrace me," she said, her voice muffled. "You think—you think I am ruined. That they—that Magua took my maidenhood."
At this Uncas stiffened. "I think nothing of the sort," he said, barely able to control his voice as he spoke. "Even if I did think that, it would only make me care for you more, not less. You foolish girl! When will you understand that I live only for you?"
She rolled back over and eyed him suspiciously. "Then why will you not touch me? Why will you not kiss me and embrace me?"
He looked down at her body and sighed. She followed his gaze and seemingly realized for the first time that she was naked, and that her skin was a patchwork of wounds. Her cheeks flushed and her large eyes widened even more, as she let out a soft, "Oh."
"I am afraid to hurt you, little one," he breathed. "I would love nothing more than to hold you tightly…It kills me to sit here and not put my hands on you, but it would kill me more to cause you even an ounce of additional pain."
She shook her head violently, boldly sitting up again even as if she knew it bared her breasts to him. "I care not, Uncas, I care not! All I thought about while he tortured me was you—the thought of being in your arms was the only thing that kept me breathing and sane. Don't deny me now, don't deny me this-
Before she could finish talking, Uncas was pulling his shirt off his head. Her eyes widened as he began removing his pants.
"Move over," he said gruffly. "Let me lay beside you."
She obeyed with shining eyes, and opened her mouth to speak.
"No more talking," he said, and he put his mouth over hers, kissing her cautiously as he explored her bruised lips. She still tasted like Alice, still felt like Alice, still responded with the same lusty coos as his tongue entered her mouth. He could feel her beginning to undulate her hips ever so slightly as his kisses deepened, as he began stroking her soft pink tongue with his. So occupied, his hands moved from her hair, down past her breasts, down past her belly…down to the one place Andiora swore they did not harm her.
Her gray eyes flew open when she felt his hands reaching for that spot and she let out an exhale of air as she pulled her mouth away from his.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I want to make the pain go away," he said, slowly easing off the cloth that hid her womanhood from him.
She grabbed his hand with hers, her small fingers warm and trembling upon his large ones.
"H-how?" she asked, utterly confused.
He smiled at this. "By giving you pleasure, lass," he said. "The kind of pleasure a man can give a woman."
She frowned, her pulse racing in her neck as he pulled his fingers out of her hands.
"I thought it was the other way around," she said, an innocent frown upon her face as she again clung to his hand.
"No, it goes both ways," he said, wondering what in the world English men taught their women.
"But—
"Alice?" he said. "Stop talking."
And with that, he again softly pulled his fingers from hers and reached down to the blonde mound between her legs. He smiled as she started in pure confusion when he carefully laid his fingers there, thinking to himself that her hair felt different than other women he had been with—finer, and softer, like velvet.
Watching her face, he slipped one finger in between the lips of her vulva, grinning wolfishly as he felt the wetness that was pooling there. He could tell by the startled gasp she made that she wanted to talk, but he looked down sternly at her and clucked his tongue. She bit her bottom lip as if to silence herself.
He continued stroking her soft wet folds, taking his time as he felt her breaths quicken. When he began to stroke her clitoris with the pad of his thumb, she nearly bucked.
He grinned down at her again. "Have you never touched yourself here, little one?"
She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Instead, she shook her head back and forth, her blonde hair spilling all over the pillow.
"Do you like it when I touch you here, little one?"
She gave something between a tortured gasp and a nod, and he applied more pressure to the spot.
"Can I put my finger inside of you?" he asked.
She was silent, and when he looked up at her again, she was blushing. She nodded quickly, too shy to meet his eyes, and then looked away.
Smiling, he eased into a new position, shifting his weight down to the bottom of the pallet.
"Open your legs for me, lass," he said, "Open them for me."
With a tremble, she heeded his command, and he kneeled in between them, gently opening them wider with his palms against her inner thighs. She was shaking in earnest now.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked in concern.
She shook her head silently.
"Good," he said, and then trailing one finger in her wetness, he slowly inserted one finger inside of her, using his other thumb to continue stroking her clitoris.
He let out a low groan as his finger was finally deep inside of her, as he finally felt her tight warmth envelope him. He felt the need to devour her, to taste her from the inside out. Keeping his finger inside of her, he leaned down and sucked her clitoris, drinking in her sweet juices with animal-like abandon.
Uncas heard Alice pant, and he knew she was completely taken aback by this new state of affairs. He inserted another finger inside of her, which was barely more than her tight opening could allow, as she was now starting to grip her legs tightly shut around him.
He placed one hand on inner thigh and stroked it gently, speaking to her in Mohican to calm her. Then, as she settled a little, he went back to tasting her, slowly swirling his tongue around her clitoris and up and down her slit. He let her get used to his fingers inside of her, and then leisurely began to move them in and out, getting rougher each time.
She reached down and gripped the sheets, clawing at them, as though she was trying to keep from falling off the bed.
He paused and looked up at her, his breath warm on her velvet mound as he asked, "Should I keep going?"