Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 59

"Some risks are worth taking," Felicia tried to convince herself. But it sounded good from her lips- strong, controlled. The way Lostariel did when they trained or argued.

For her part in it, the northerner rotated her hands at the wrists trying to find freedom that Felicia playfully denied her. It wasn't a serious attempt, but rather like slipping into unfamiliar boots. These particular boots just happened to have soft soles and a tight collar-- one that only grew tighter when Felicia turned her fingers with the reins clenched.

She didn't balk, she didn't fight back. She didn't reject the idea the way she might have a month ago. . . .it was a risk with a small return. Felicia wondered what would make it a big return. Did she dare?

The inn had been greed and lust and worshipful attention lavished upon a killer-- even now, knowing who and what Lostariel was, she was stroking a Coyote and she knew it. Yet the power this woman carried wasn't some supernatural force granted by uncaring gods, hers was uniquely her own. She had chosen to become a predator, she chose to live on her feet.

The sad beauty of free choice and determination would take equal amounts of determination to mold into something more human and humane. Felicia had known it from the moment she chose to help this woman.

No one would say she was a coward and that she didn't work for a better world. Least of all this woman. "Lostariel?"

"Yes?" She breathed.

"Do you think you'll fall off?"

Again she fidgeted with her bindings. Again Felicia tightened them. Instead of answering she shook her head.

"Good, because now I don't have anything to hold on to. . ." Felicia swallowed against the lump in her throat. Could she really do this? "So I may have to uh, improvise."

Lostariel went quiet for a moment while they continued down the hill. The horse ruffled them one way and the other until finally, in a voice barely more than a whisper, Lostariel said: "No one's stopping you."

Like she couldn't if she didn't want to.

Another risk, another success. Felicia held her breath and carefully trailed her free hand down Lostariel's neckline while she planted her lips to the opposite side. Fingers and lips exploring lands once familiar but deceptively calm, waiting for a misstep and ready with a sharp- possibly fatal- reprimand.

Felicia trailed her fingers lower, down the woman's smooth flesh and the muscled hardened by training and time, down between her breasts, grazing the underside of one as she leaned back into Felicia's quiet demand. Lostariel let out a soft exhale, eyes half closing to blind herself to what was happening- to revel in the moment that was probably still new to her.

Wasn't it then Felicia's duty to ensure she understood what was being asked of her? What awaited her and what rewards she'd earn from seeing things from Felicia's perspective? Another risk, then. Felicia bit her shoulder playfully.

"Nnnh-" Lostariel exhaled. Breathy and soft, the air falling from her lips before she reclaimed it by biting her lower lip. A little harder. A little deeper. The assassin craned her neck to allow the girl her due, but she didn't seem to realize what was coming next as Felicia's hand dipped lower down her stomach. Up a little, balling up a hand full of blouse, winding it around her hand and tightening it.

"You are something special, you know?" Felicia cooed, punctuating her comment with another kiss across the northerner's throat. "Strong, beautiful, hopelessly lost. . ." Another nip. Another risk.

Lostariel huffed, blushing hot and pressing herself into Felicia's tightening grip.

Another success.

Emboldened, Felicia drew her hand back, slipped the button that held Lostariel's trousers. Careful not to touch anything that might still be healing, she eased her fingers down against Lostariel's pelvic bone, tickling what little hair she felt brush her finger tips. Even as she did she pressed herself to the woman's back and pulled a little tighter on the reins.

Lostariel ground her wrists. Resisting momentarily. Was it too much? Had Felicia gone too far? She hesitated.

"Too tight?"

"A little."

"S--" No. No sorry. No giving ground now, she had to be stronger than that. Instead she nipped on the woman's neck again, easing her grip while her fingers combed through Lostariel's short hairs, gently urging her way down lower and lower, a little bit at a time. One clop of the hooves, one short inhale from Lostariel.

And then she took her biggest risk. "You are beautiful," Felicia cooed hotly across her ear. Just then as the horse arched a tiny bit, she pushed the woman forward onto her hand-- reveling in the moment her forefingers were graced with that familiar dampness. That forbidden treasure they both knew shouldn't be shared.

Lostariel let out a small chuff of surprise as Felicia's fingers found their mark and her thumb extended right over her clit. Just about the perfect position. She could do this, she could make this work. Yes! It was time to show her. . .

"I think this'll work, don't you?"

Lostariel huffed, half tensing. "Youtalktomuch." But her voice fell into silence when Felicia started massaging her, round in circles at first, her fingers working this way and that to draw out the smallest breath. It didn't take long before the assassin was shifting her weight in time with the strokes and with the movement of the horse-- rolling back into Felicia, wanting. Craving. Missing what she hadn't had for weeks.

If only they were in a bed, Felicia mused. Still she leaned forward against the woman, pushing her up and a little forward as though it was she who was getting ready to ride instead of Felicia; Lostariel grabbed the saddle horn, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

Gods she couldn't have been more perfect in that instance-- the generous swell of her hips, those powerful legs, arching and bending just for Felicia. That soft mane of black hair that begged for someone to take a handfull of it and treat her the way she truly wanted: to make her feel appreciated the way she deserved.

Felicia took the next best course, she bit her lover's shoulder and slid her already dampened fingers in. Slow, pushing against the tight confines that tried to stop her. Deeper and deeper while Lostariel let out her breath as one long sight. "There you are. . ."

"Nnh. . ." Lostariel sighed out a delerious huff. It wasn't enough, though, Felicia wanted more- she needed to make this woman understand. And so she went deeper, up to her palm with two fingers massaging the core of who she was, pressing those tight muscles away, daring them to reclaim what Felicia demanded.

They wouldn't, though. They couldn't. Felicia curled her fingers, massaging and working forward until she found a very particular texture inside the woman. Forward and back she rubbed against it while her thumb worked over Lostariel's clit. All the while she tightened her grip on the woman, knees to knees, teeth to shoulder and leather around wrist.

Inch by inch, one step at a time, she made her claim offer against the assassin's hardened body. Not with the righteous demand and primal lust that often followed their sessions but with the steady build of her fingers massaging, of the weight of the horse bucking and jostling her.

They fell into sync not long after-- Felicia would draw back a little and thrust her fingers in just as the horse would rock them against each other and poor Lostariel, too tightly packed down against the animal would get the best and worst of both worlds.

She panted, she huffed and she fought for every breath Felicia pulled from her. It was her way, but it was a losing battle the farther down the road they went. She had a white knuckle grip on the horn but it wouldn't buy her anything. Felicia picked up her own pace as she urged the horse faster.

Faster thrusting, faster curling, eventually she let go of the woman's shoulder to nip her earlobe. Another big risk, she decided: "If I had both hands free, nothing back here would be empty."

Lostariel tried to look her way but Felicia pressed their cheeks together, forcing her to face the road. Harder now, faster. No more light touch, it was time-- Felicia worked her fingers in and out as fast as she could- half way through she slid an extra digit in. That got a reaction: brilliant and low, like a cougar calling out, Lostariel roared out a throaty moan as her body was stretched without consent.

Felicia fucked her. The way she wanted and deserved. Slapping Lostariel's pelvis with her hand, stretching her insides-- Lostariel rolled her hips back with lustful need. Once. Twice. Arching hard, presenting her ass and giving Felicia a place to pin her down in the saddle. Brief panic ripped through Felicia as she worried she might have over done it but when Lostariel's moan turned into full body trembling, she knew she was on the right track.

Lostariel's orgasm was sharp and hard as it so often was, but her reaction- rolling back into Felicia's body, pushing back, trying to meld herself into the young Plainswalker was something new. She hung her head forward, rolling back slowly, curving to make a shape for the girl to fit into. Had Felicia's hands been free, it'd have been a perfect time to claim her. . .

To make the biggest gamble of all.

The woman spasmed and shuddered, her core tightening all around Felicia and trying desperately to shove her out. Eventually Felicia retreated, though not out of her trousers, she wrapped her arm around the woman and held her there. One day, one day soon, she was going to do this 'right' and finally get up the courage to try what Sarah had with her-- she was going to make Lostariel into a 'good girl'.

For now, though. . .

Lostariel turned her head warily, still shuddering full body. She looked up at Felicia with a hazy lust clouding the purple seas that rested there. Temporarily stilled but just as treacherous as always; sated for the moment, awaiting another rise of the tide.

They had a ways to go yet before they got to their next resupply point, Felicia had time to deal with those tides later, for now she pulled her lover close and kissed her deeply. Part entreaty and part claim. One day soon she'd show the woman what she didn't see in herself, and when that day came she'd understood that there was more to one person's life than taking it from others.

For now, they had another week's worth of road ahead of them.

#

Four days later they arrived in a small village with no name, a quaint little place along the trade route that was little more than a collection of farms and gates blocking the road. Each of the wood barricades had been carved with wreath patterns and- what Felicia imagined were-- prayers to whatever god of protection they held.

The young men and women behind them didn't seem particularly bothered or interested in the travelers, even going out of their way to ensure that they had as little interaction as possible. It set Felicia on edge at first but when they passed through, it started to make more sense.

There was one building near the road with a sloped overhanging roof and large supports that covered an area for people to tie and care for their horses. Just beyond that, a rustic cabin-like shop looked out through massive windows with a full view of the road and the hitching posts. Inside, scuttling about racks of sundries and things was an older woman with a greying mane and focused manner. She kept an eye on the young people from her shop like it was a watch tower and as soon as Felicia and Lostariel dismounted, her gaze turned to them.

Beyond the shop was a small road and several more gates that cut through the peaceful meadow surrounding the road, a separation that the village apparently tried to keep very clear; visitors weren't welcome to stay long.

They hitched the horse and Felicia ran through the basics of grooming while he ate, giving Lostariel some time to stretch and start bartering for what they needed. As soon as she was done with the animal, Felicia checked and double checked to make sure the assassin wasn't paying attention. When she was sure she'd have time, she made her way towards the young woman she saw amongst the boys. She was checking the fence but the moment the Plainswalker got closer, she smiled.

"Hi there," Felicia smiled. "This is going to sound odd but we got separated from our wagon group, did you happen to see a uhm. . ." Wagon? Boat? How much could she really say? "Wagon. A big, tall wagon, come through here in the last few days?"

The girl looked at her oddly for a moment, then as if she was struck by inspiration, she picked up a stick and drew a rough outline of a boat in the dirt and looked to Felicia questioningly.

"Y- yeah, it looked like that. A redheaded woman was with them?"

She nodded emphatically and put her fingers near her ears to indicate them being pointed.

"How long ago were they here, do you think?"

Before she could answer one of the older looking boys made his way over, looking between the girls. He looked uneasy with Felicia, wary and as though he expected her to do something. "Tisa, why don't you go help ma out. . ."

"It's no trouble," Felicia said quickly. Thinking back to her training with Lostariel she adopted a helpless kind of expression of someone well out of their depth. "We got left behind of our wagon group, I just wanted to make sure we were on the right path. . ." For effect she gripped the collar of her blouse, putting on more of a confused air. She was nowhere near as good at it as Lostariel, the words even sounded hollow to her.

Maybe she was just a terrible liar.

"Oh, you with that elf woman?"

"Ehm, yes! Yes, that's her."

"Yeah, they came through here about six days ago." He glanced at her horse. "That's a Shinty, isn't it? If you push him, he can get you with your folks in three days."

Shinty? What the hell was-- "Oh, the horse? Uh," Felicia actually felt heat well on her cheeks as she looked at the worthless beast. "I don't know much about Northern breeds. . . .we only really had the one." she smiled to the two and thanked them for their help and headed inside.

The interior was more spacious than it had any right to be, easily bigger than most of 'her' farm back in Sorash. The neatly arranged racks and dispensaries were stocked full of provisions from the farms and likely imported from other traders along the way-- the particular type of meal bean that her father had wanted to grow in Sorash sat in a bin at the end of one of the rows of dried goods, reminding her of what she'd left behind. . .

Not the property but the shell of a man slumped forward with a bottle tucked between his legs and the gold coin she'd thrown beside it before she left. The man her mother had married and lost when she died was gone. He'd been gone long before the bottle would finish him off, but for just a moment Felicia wondered if he'd have found new purpose with them.

Supposedly they were good for stews with a lot of meat in them, they absorbed the broth and if treated near a fire would harden on the outside while leaving the inside full of sanguine flavors. Felicia plucked one. Even if she couldn't remember the name of it, she could remember why she knew about it.

Lostariel bought them the necessities while Felicia focused on the niceties-- spices and salts and a few sweets to round out the fancier parts of their diet. Near the rear of the store she also found something he hadn't realized she'd want to actually consider buying.

Cotton was an unusual fabric for a dress but it had a distinctive lightness about it and the particular dress 'Ma' had on display highlighted all the best things about the material. It came in two parts, a bright maroon top that came down to mid thigh and flowed effortlessly over a brown skirt that went down the rest of the way. It was a plain thing, but Felicia could easily imagine a white bodice or something to contrast it.

She glanced at Lostariel briefly, imagining how she'd fill it out-- how it'd tighten against her hips and with a simple piece of cloth around her waist, she'd see. Oh, yes, she'd see what Felicia did. She took the top, leaving the skirt on its own. By the time they were done and a few silvers lighter, Felicia had developed a new idea for a dress. One that she couldn't wait to try out in practice.

Felicia emptied their bags to allow Lostariel room to pack them, secreting away her project before it could be discovered. It'd raise too many questions and she wasn't entirely sure she had answers for them yet.

Risks were one thing, what Felicia had in mind was going to need planning to go from near-suicide to merely 'a dangerous risk'. And so she practiced in secret, at the other end of the awning-- she unfurled a bundle of twine and cleaned up the little doll she'd purchased in their last stop. The cotton dress had an easy pattern to it; over the shoulders and down to flare out around the thighs where it'd join the skirt.

What if instead it tightened down around the thighs? Felicia started with that concept, wrapping the twine around each thigh. She wound up with what looked like a garter belt which. . . .no this wouldn't work. The shoulders, then. Down them. . .

No.

Felicia pouted, trying to recall the sleek and clean lines she'd seen in the other assassin's home. His mannequins had been bound tightly, over the chest like the folds of an expensive robe. Luxuriously following the outline of their model and- in theory- allowing only the movement that they were meant to. It was art and beauty and something different.

The young woman frowned at her cheap twine and crappy doll, wondering how she could ever hope to recreate what she saw when she couldn't even approximate a simple dress.

A rock hit her boot. She looked up to see Lostariel holding said dress with a questioning expression.

Felicia hopped up, tucking her doll and rope behind her under her belt, she pulled her blouse over them. "It's for yo--"

"No."

"What do you mean 'no?' You'd look beautiful in it."

"There's barely anything to it."

There were battles worth fighting, this wasn't going to be one of them right now. "It's something for later."

"For me. For later." Lostariel looked at it skeptically. It'd need to get taken up a bit, Felicia imagined, but it was close to how she pictured it fitting. A little higher and it'd be resting comfortably around her thighs-- a brief flash lit her imagination. The rope under the dress and a blouse, a sash around her waist and--

Lostariel broke into her fantasy before it could even get started. "I know that expression. . . ..go get your money back before you embarrass both of us."

"No."

"No?" The assassin actually looked surprised.

Felicia pressed it for all it was worth, easing into the woman's space and taking the dress. She folded it up neatly and stuffed it in the bag with a triumphant nod. "It's something for later."

After a moment the woman rolled her eyes. "The woman wouldn't tell me anything about caravans coming through here, did you find anything out?"

"No," Felicia lied without thinking about it. Some part of her felt ashamed after the fact, but as she looked into the eyes of the woman who'd probably kill her as easily as she would Sarah, she could justify it. Even if that woman was her friend and lover, there were some things that needed to be kept from her. Sarah's whereabouts and the doll had that much in common, and Felicia was fairly sure there'd be more in the space between them before this journey was over.

She hated it.