Season 2, Episode 3
Written by Tof Eklund
Read by Tawn Krakowski
Kaye had one of my fingers, glove and all, in his mouth and was sucking on it as I kissed his neck and caressed the small of his back. I pressed him up against the wooden door as he fumbled with the bolt. The sound of footsteps echoed again nearby, closer than before.
“Hurry,” I groaned. The smart thing would have been for us to separate and act nonchalant, but I just couldn’t wait, couldn’t bring myself to stop now that I finally had Kaye in my arms. At last the wooden bolt slid free, and as one we half-tumbled into the darkness beyond.
That morning, I’d had a plan. I was going to find Kaye, tell him that I wanted him, be very clear about the necessary boundaries to the relationship, and we’d figure out when and where we could meet without being seen or heard. I’d woken with the dawn in a cold bedchamber that still smelt faintly of highland lavandula and soap. Winter’s first frost had hit last night, and ice glazed my windows. Ignoring the still full copper tub, I performed my regular morning ablutions with fresh water and soap.
I then put on and carefully smoothed my petticoats—in the past season, ladies at court had begun wearing four or more of these half-slips, layered to give their bottoms an impression of fullness belied by their corseted chests. With my build, the two petticoats required for mere “decency” was more than enough to achieve the fashionable big-bottomed effect.
I passed over my cotton stockings in favor of a pair of warm wool ones, and wound a binding loosely around my breasts, just for support. I wasn’t going to choke myself trying to look flat-chested or narrow-waisted. Presumably, Kaye liked me just as I was. I had second thoughts about the dullness of my habit as I pulled on a plain woolen dress in Maiden’s brown, but I put them from my mind and began the process of coaxing my hair into a snood.
I was still chasing flyaways when there came a knock at my door. I cursed silently; I’d hoped to avoid seeing Lily, after our moment of mutual embarrassment last night.
As if in response to my consternation, I heard Lily’s voice.
“Milady? May I enter?”
I could have told her to come back later, but that would only make things more awkward, so I opened the door for her. She looked at me, glanced at my hands, which were still bare, flushed slightly and proceeded past me in silence.
I tucked the last renegade hair into my snood as I turned to follow her. Lily squatted next to the tub and grunted as she lifted it. The water inside sloshed and I rushed over to grab the other side of the tub.
“Let me lend a hand,” I said.
Lily stopped, and looked at me over the tub. Her tea-colored eyes narrowed in anger or suspicion as she replied, “Now you wan’ta lend me a hand? I’d ‘ave thought mockery was below you, Milady.”
“Lily,” I began placatingly, “I’m sorry. I really appreciated the bath, and I got lost in my…thoughts. I didn’t mean to ask that of you.”
Her expression softened a little, but her mouth was still turned down into a frown. “Well, I suppose there’s some that likes a hand when they’re pent-up, and some that don’t.”
That caught my attention. “Lily? Do other people expect you to perform sexual favors for them? Have any of the Lords—or Ladies—tried to take advantage of you?”
Lily’s eye’s blazed and her voice rose. “No, Maiden Yelena, no such thing! I’m not talking about sex, and I ain’t done anything criminal. All I’m saying is that sometimes friends can give each other a hand!”
“Sorry, Lily, I misunderstood,” I apologized even as I was trying to figure out exactly what I was apologizing for. I’d clearly struck a nerve; whatever Lily meant by ‘a hand’, she didn’t think it counted as sex. Best to let it go—for now. “Will you let me help you?” I continued. “We’re standing here holding this tub and my arms are getting tired.”
As quickly as her anger had flared, it receded. “You’re right, Milady. C’mon, to the window.”
We poured the bath water out the window and watched it sluice down the side of the castle. Then Lily left, carrying the now-empty tub with her. I was putting on the fine lace gloves Kaye had given me when she reached the door.
She turned around, smiled thinly, and said, “I meant what I said last night—you go get him.”
I found Kaye just outside one of the breakfast halls, but I’d barely gotten as far as, “I think we can be together,” before he kissed me.
I could have prevented it; he had to lean in on his crutches to do it, so I saw his face approaching mine—his chestnut hair, his full lips, the unbroken line of his nose, the emerald flecks gleaming in his hazel eyes as they slowly shut…and I was already moving to meet him.
After a breathless moment, we parted and looked around. This was another high traffic area. We couldn’t stay there.
“This way,” he said, and swung off down a corridor that went back towards the kitchen. I followed him around a corner only to find that he’d spun to face me, so I kissed him, a little longer and deeper than before.
There was a noise, and we sprung apart just before a scullery maid came by with an armful of plates. We bolted, making a couple of turns more-or-less-randomly, then came up against a heavy door at the end of a hallway.
This seemed much more promising, and I pressed Kaye up against the door as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Yelen,” he said, and I kissed him again, sucking his tongue into my mouth. He kissed back with remarkable skill, meeting my tongue and then pulling back again. I started lifting his shirt.
Then there came a pushing at the door. I let go of Kaye and, as we shifted away, the door opened. Out came one of the chef’s assistants with a game hen in either hand. He walked right past us with only a single sideways look.
After that we took off again, dashing madly this way and that. By now I was flushed and euphoric; I hardly cared any more why we were running around, I just wanted Kaye to stop long enough for me get a good grip on his back. We rounded a blind corner, lit only by reflected light from a sconce in the passage we had just come from.
Kaye’s gaze was intense and his cheeks burned bright red. I planted kisses on his forehead and cheeks, one on the bridge of his nose and another along the line of his jaw. His hands came off of his crutches and he wrapped his arms around me.
“Oh, Kaye.” I gasped as he pulled me in tight. His arms were strong. I kissed his lower lip, then bit down and tugged at it.
With a slight, “Ahh,” Kaye loosened his grasp and I lowered my head to his neck. One of his hands began stroking my back and I wound my left arm around behind him to return the favor.
I felt him lift my other hand to his mouth, and I would have said something about removing the overgloves first, but it was taking all of my self-control not to leave a string of hickeys as I kissed Kaye’s neck.
There was a heavy fall of footsteps somewhere nearby. Not again! I lifted my head just enough to look around and noticed the door at the end of the corridor: it was simple, with no handle or latch, just a wooden bolt on the outside.
“The door,” I said, nudging Kaye’s neck with my chin to get him to turn the right way.
“Ahhh,” he groaned as I went back to kissing his neck. “I see it. You’ll have to move with me.” We shuffled and swayed over to the door as one being.
“Hurry,” I said, when I heard footsteps again, closer this time. Kaye fumbled the bolt open and we half-stepped, half-fell into what turned out to be a storeroom of some sort. I saw barrels and great sacks of grain, along with large and small crates in the dim light.
I helped Kaye down onto a sack of grain. It was a poor loveseat and a worse bed, but better than the floor.
“Make yourself comfortable—I’ll be right back.”
I closed the door, plunging us into utter darkness. It didn’t matter. I made my way back to where I’d left Kaye, peeling my overgloves off as I went, exposing my fingers to the dark and the heat between us. I knelt and reached out, found his leg. I released the iron boot on that side, then the other brace.
“There,” I whispered, my voice husky in my own ears. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.”
Kaye gave a shiver as I ran my hands up to his waist and slid in next to him. We were now reclined on the stacked sacks, one of which he’d shifted to prop his head and shoulders up. Kaye was dressed casually in cotton twill pants tied at the waist and a simple shirt. I made quick work of the knot, hooked my fingers in the waistband, and yanked his trousers down, freeing his cock.
My bare palms caressed his hips and he gasped, “Yelen, ohh…your hands.”
I rolled one leg over his and pressed in closer to his side. I lightly grazed my fingertips over his skin as I whispered in his ear.
“That’s right, Kaye. There’s nothing between my hands and your skin.” I ran a hand up underneath his shirt and he moaned. He had hair on his chest, something new to me. I curled my fingers in it, feeling the strength of his muscles and the rapid beating of his heart.
“My touch is fire. Burn with me,” I teased, reaching into the hair right above his rampant manhood. He twitched and a drop of precum fell onto the back of my hand.
Kaye’s arm had been pinned beneath me, but now it moved, lifting my dress and pushing my petticoats out of the way. His fingers blazed a trail up my thighs, and I parted my legs to give him access to my sex.
“Uahhh…” The light touch on my labia was almost unbearable, and then there was a sound of wetness against skin as Kaye parted them.
“Hot…” he moaned.
I gripped the base of his cock in appreciation, and felt myself slide against him as my hips began to move. Kaye pressed his wrist down amidst the midnight curls of my pubic hair, and I ground against the palm of his hand.
I stroked him in time with my own thrusting hips, and heard his breath break into a series of gasps. I could feel his foreskin between my fingers and the head of his cock underneath. More precum trickled down, wetting my fingers.
“Nnaaah! Yelen, wait, or I’ll…” he gasped and shuddered, on the verge of climax.
“No, Kaye,” I whispered, “no more waiting.” I sped up the motion of my hand and he came with a loud cry. I felt his seed fall in an arc across my hip, arm, and the side of my dress.
Then, to my shock and horror, there came a sudden rumble of footsteps, and the door swung open. The dim light of the hallway seemed bright by contrast and I couldn’t make out the backlit figure, but my terror turned to burning shame as a familiar voice rumbled, “Dead gods, what am I to do with you two…”
It was Geoff.
© 2012 Copyright Tof Eklund
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