Ogres and Ogresses Ch. 25

"Excuse me?"

"Hahaha!"

"Get back here!"

Vine's laughed peeled into the air as he disappeared behind the tree, or more accurately, into the tree.

How strange. Sighing, she stood up and proceeded to walk back.

That flash of lust that wasn't poison, that was simply desiring Medean, tortured her still. Was it fear or loyalty that held her back? Her love for Kail, or her love of control?

How two people as controlling as themselves had ever ended up together in the first place was beyond her. Maybe that was why they had failed. They both disliked losing control, no matter how much they lied to one another and said they would share it.

But hadn't they grown? Hadn't they done something to improve this fatal flaw? Maybe she had been the only one growing. Maybe Kail hadn't grown enough.

Even now she was...sprouting. Was she to deprive herself for his mistakes?

"Ah. I was beginning to think you would arrive late."

Caligula stood in the center of the training ground, a book in his hand. It was black, tattered, and carved with runes. Immediately she disliked it.

"I'm here," Zyra said, placing the sword down. "What are we working on?"

"Did you eat a good lunch?"

Zyra gulped. Great. "No."

"Good. I wouldn't want you to throw it up."

"Why?"

Caligula began to chant. "Aeros mana, gaia frey, aeros womana..."

"Wait! Caligula what are you—"

"Gaia frey..."

"Caligula! This isn't funny. What are you..."

"Spiritu mana, Spiritu womana!"

"—doing! AH!"

Zyra screamed her head off as she was suddenly thrust into the air. She spun out of control, her stomach dropping, her ears buzzing, her head whizzing, as she flailed helplessly in the air.

"Your lesson for today," Caligula said grinning. "Is to get yourself down."

He sat on the ground and watched her with a smile.

"You filthy son of a—"

Ah. Music to his ears.

"Bun bu raw! You muck eating piece of—!

He grinned as he watched the delicious view. He could see under her skirt, though she wore those infernal bandages. He considered sending a wind to rid her of them. Caligula sensed a presence and saw Medean take a seat by the edge of the training grown, a black umbrella floating above his head.

He growled. No, too inconspicuous.

"—piss fed, mother fucking, brother raping..."

He leaned back. No need to rush. He would have the little minx soon enough, and that interfering blackheart.

Even if she cursed him and said questionable things about his brethren. These moments would make his victory even sweeter.

-------------------------------------------------

Zyra woke up weightless, in a cloud. No, she meant a fog. A days, a daze.

She groaned. She was dead wasn't she? She landed in a tree and was dead.

"Miss...?"

She cracked open an eye and saw that Medean was carrying her. He looked over her with concern.

"Are you awake, Miss?"

"Where am I?" she groaned loudly. Her own voice sounded terrible to her ears, she wasn't surprised that Medean winced.

"I'm carrying you to your room."

Zyra wrinkled her cold nose. Cold nose? Actually no, every single part of her was freezing. She was wet. Probably from a cloud. She had learned that they were wet about five minutes into the lesson because she had tried to grab onto one for support.

Zyra started to shiver violently as the numb shock wore off.

Medean sped up. "Hold on Miss. Wait a moment. I will take you to the hot spring."

Zyra closed her eyes. Her in the hot spring naked meant he would no doubt be holding her naked body in the water. He'd be naked as well wouldn't he? Images of frenzied lovemaking in the hot water snapped her eyes open.

"No. I just want to lie down please."

"But Miss, I'm sure a quick dip—"

"I insist."

Medean sighed and took her to her room. As a courtesy she allowed him to place her on the bed and fuss over her. As he peeled the shoes off of her, she tried to think of hunting, and death, and lengths of hair. She raised her arms and let him pull her shirt off.

Gharla's hair was a decent length, but Bellen had to have the longest hair. Or did she cut it because she nearly died on that hunt when it got snagged on a branch? Her head had nearly popped clean off. Sometimes, practicality was better than—

"Hey!" Zyra pushed Medean away. He was undoing her chest wrappings. "Hands off!"

"You're soaked to the bone Miss. You need to take them off."

"Fine, I will. Then I'll lie down. You can go."

"It's not safe to leave you in such a cold state. I need to make sure you don't get hypothermia."

"...what?"

"Chill Bones Disease."

"Chill Bones Disease is a rumor. A babe's tale. It could never get that cold."

"Miss, I am telling you the truth. You have to let me warm you." With a quick flick, he pulled her skirt off of her and tossed it, rather neatly, onto the table.

Zyra tried to ignore what he had just done. "Then use a drying spell. Once I'm dry I should be fine."

He frowned and retrieved his wand. He waved it over her and she felt a hot breeze run through her. She was completely dry from head to toe.

"There, all dry."

But she was still cold. Which made absolutely no sense. It felt like there was a strange pressure in her fingertips and toes.

Medean touched her face, then her stomach, then her hands. "You are still cold. Take off your clothes."

To her utter shock, Medean began to disrobe. In fact, it wasn't just his robe, it was his shirt and his skirt. He stood, naked from the waist up as she gaped, stunned. Medean undid his britches and began pulling them down. Upon seeing the defined V that would soon reveal much more, she averted his eyes. He wasn't wearing undergarments. Why did nonhuman men forego their undergarments?

Medean's hand clamped onto hers, and he moved her into action. She struggled against him, her strength working well in her favor. He pried at her hands in vain.

"NO!"

"Miss...move...your...hands!"

"Put your clothes back on!"

"Please...move...your...hands!"

"Put your clothes back on, you pale, misshapen, insane product of witch magic!

"I have already seen your breasts!"

Zyra gasped, an embarrassed look clouding her face.

Medean was about to feel guilty when a scalding smack evaporated his pity.

"Just go!"

"You are insufferable!" he shouted, his face already aching. He held his cheek, angrily.

"Then suffer me no more! Get the fuck out you stupid witch!"

How dare he flaunt her weakness in front of her? How dare he disobey her? Swear to serve her, to listen to her when all he wanted was his own selfish desire to...she didn't even know what he wanted. But he was just like Kail. They all were.

"I will not." Medean's voice dropped an octave.

He released her and she scooted to the far side of the bed, glaring distrustfully. He stomped back to his robes and retrieved his wand. "You are my burden to suffer and suffer you I shall."

Zyra threw up a shield in time for a blast of black magic coming for her. Her heart raced and her head spun as the adrenaline and chill collided.

"How dare you attack me?" She sent an offensive blast, but Medean wasn't there.

Suddenly hands encircled her from behind. She shrieked as she was lifted and plopped onto the bed face first. She thrashed, but Medean placed his heavy, naked, self on top of her. And he was heavier than he looked.

Medean had casted a weight spell upon himself, which allowed him to lie on her without fear of her throwing him off. The stronger her struggle, the more his weight would increase. He gritted his teeth. To have to resort to such extremes was deplorable.

"This is not a game Zyra," he hissed. "You could die from Chill Bones Disease. You could you're your limbs. Even if we regenerated your fingers or your toes they will never be as strong as the original. This is a fact."

"Get...off...me."

Medean turned the tip of wand sharp. Glaring at her bandages he lifted them off her back and sliced away. Ripping them away from her, he did the same with her undergarment.

"No!"

Medean flipped her over to look him in his eyes. She could tell that he was beyond serious. He looked positively murderous, which was strange considering they were currently fighting over her well-being.

"I don't want to hear another word," he threatened. "I will take away your ability to speak for a week if I hear so much as a sound. I tell you you're in danger, and you act like it's all a game. Like the blood oath I took to protect you was a game."

His coal black eyes burned fear into her and she froze as he glared intensely at her.

Then he flipped her back over.

Medean pulled back the covers and tossed her under them, Zyra paralyzed by his rage. She really did know how to get under a person's skin.

"You have no idea what I have done in the name of my blood oath!"

He laid on top of her then, voiding her escape, jarring her with his warm nakedness against hers, his member resting on the back of her thigh. He had frightened her with his furious black eyes that seemed empty and more hollow, the more they burned.

No, he would not scare her. She turned her head.

"I didn't make you do—"

He pressed a finger to her lips. "Not. One. Word."

Zyra whimpered and closed her eyes, turning her head to face forward.

Medean wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in as closely as possible. He wrapped his legs around hers and put her hands underneath her.

"I have no family, and no friends. The few I had were given up once the new keromedio was named, and I was selected as the keeper. It is a sacred position of much esteem. If I had a family they might have been proud." He paused, collecting himself.

"I am an orphan that was given to the council by an unknown mother. All my life I have trained for your arrival, hoping I would be chosen, dreaming of you and the bond we would share, of the purpose I would complete by guiding you to greatness. The trust you would have, for me. I would die for you Zyra. It is my purpose, to die for you. If that, does not warrant your trust, I do not know what will. I...I have nothing left to give you."

Then Medean fell silent.

The weight of his words lay heavier than Medean himself. Zyra laid there thinking about what he had just told her. She had so many questions to ask him, the first one being, why?

Why would he swear to protect someone he had never met? Why didn't he tell her the extent in which he served her? Why was he warming her up this way? And why did she pity him, wish to embrace him, and reassure him that things would be different, when she knew she might never trust Medean in the way he hoped?

Time passed as she considered possible answers.

"Body heat."

Zyra turned her head. He had closed his eyes.

"That is the only reason I am on top of you," he said. His voice was softer, more collected. He had obviously calmed down considerably in the last ten minutes. "In times of crisis, when there was no heat...for a time I lived in the Southern Darklands. It's very cold there, and poor. When there wasn't enough fire, or magic capable folk, people would lie down together. You yourself should be aware that heat does transfer when two individuals lie close together. Having no barriers between us makes this process work faster."

Zyra was about to tell him she knew that, when she remembered his threat. She sighed in response, accepting her lot. She had forgotten, physically at least, what it felt like to have a man's skin against yours. Kail had warmed her up in a similar way in her tent. She remembered. She could hear their whispers hidden against the falling rain.

"Kail I..."

"I won't touch you. You're shivering."

"I'm sorry. I know you did not ask for my devotion, nor did you ask me to do the things I have done. I know you are in an unfamiliar place...with an unfamiliar man. I should be more patient."

"Don't be afraid. I won't touch you tonight."

She had trusted him.

"I know our worlds are different, and what is normal for each of us varies. You have your pride. I respect that about you."

"Close your eyes."

"I am sorry for yelling at you."

The memory proved to be too much for her. She buried her face in her pillow before her tears started.

Medean's eyes widened in surprise, as he felt her body shake with soft sobs.

"Zyra? Oh Maker help me. Zyra, I am sorry. Zyra?"

Medean tried to turn her over but she held onto the pillow. The sobbing got worse and worse. Medean cursed, the guilt making him feel ill. He had been careless, had allowed himself to feel when he was to be distant, useful, a tool and not a burden. He lifted off of her, releasing the weight spell. She wasn't where he wanted her to be physically, but she was warm enough. He bowed his head, though she could not see.

"I did not mean to upset you, my keromedio. I will leave and...if you wish, you can replace me. I am sorry. I'm leaving."

"I thought...he loved me..."

Her heartbroken line halted his departure.

"...What?"

Cautiously, he went back to her. He pulled the edge of the pillow back, and saw her tear drenched face. His heart clenched.

"Zyra..."

"I tried to forget," she sobbed, placing her hands over her face. "I'm so ashamed."

Medean waited for a moment, unsure of what to do. He leaned down, placing a hand on her head.

"There, there."

Carefully, he pulled her hands off her face, and guided her towards his chest. The female keromedio went into his arms, wrapping herself around him without hesitation. Then she began to truly sob.

Medean sighed, rubbing her back and shushing her. She cried on him for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes.

Medean hated it when women cried. When she had spent herself of emotion, an awkward silence settled between them. Now that she was calm, maybe he could learn what had set her off.

And figure out how to never do so again.

"So..." he grumbled. "He...It is the ogre, who said this?"

"His name is Kail," she said, her voice watery.

"So...Kail, said this?"

"...yes..." she squeaked.

Maker be, she was going to cry again.

"Shh," he cooed, rubbing her back. "Calm down. It is alright. Here..."

Medean pulled one of the pillows from behind her and shucked off the pillowcase.

"Blow your nose."

She pulled back from him and did so, wiping her eyes on a different section. While she collected herself, Medean performed a quick cleanliness spell on his torso and gathered a rag with some water. He presented it to her and she handed him the soiled pillowcase.

He frowned and conjured fire to consume it there and now.

"Better?"

She pulled the washcloth from her face and looked up at him. Then she looked down at herself. She was still very naked. Her breasts were still out. Looking up at Medean, who was equally naked, she knew he had followed her thought pattern. He eased back from her, wondering if he was to be struck.

"Zyra...remember. I have done this for a purpose."

"Just go."

She handed him the washcloth and plopped down, face first into the pillow.

"Thank you," she mumbled, the sound muffled. "Now just go."

Medean tried to think of their conversation. What words had caused this? What actions? Was it because they were naked together? She had been fine at first. She had been fine when she alone had been the naked one. No, it had to be his words.

"Are you still here?"

"Are you sure you want me to leave, Miss?"

Zyra sniffed, lifting her head, her eyes watering. "...no."

Medean jumped into action, flipping her over, sitting her up, and wiping her tears. The surprise of it had stopped them, for now. He had to stop them for good. He could just imagine the conversation Caligula would revel in if he didn't.

How fares our lovely keromedio?

Marvelously, she cries herself to sleep at night.

Oh don't blame me, Medean is her caretaker.

"Zyra, look at me."

She did so, a touch begrudgingly if he could say so.

"Zyra, you are beautiful. Honestly you are. Everything about you is...wonderful."

Zyra looked at him blankly. "So?"

His eyebrows rose. Well, then.

"So..." he continued. "You needn't worry about the opinions of one exiled ogre. There are scores of men who will find you desirable."

"So?"

"So..."

You little demon.

"Does...does any of this make you feel better?"

"Not really. My confidence isn't broken Medean, it's my heart. It's...me"

Something Zyra said suddenly stuck to his scattered brain. He wasn't sure how she would react, but he would at least need to try.

"Then let mend you."

Zyra looked at Medean with marked disbelief.

"How?"

"You want to forget, right? You said so."

There was an undercurrent of mischief in his tone. The light teasing told her he had some kind of agenda, but she was desperate. If it was a spell or a potion she would take it. If even for a minute, she needed to forget her pain.

"Yes," Zyra said.

Medean's eyes lidded and he put a hand around her waist. Without hesitation, he pulled her in close and kissed her. The soft, hot feel of him against her made her tingle. How could a man have such soft skin and lips?

He did not open her mouth with his lips, or put his tongue inside. It was a simple kiss, nice, and in an instant gone.

Medean pulled back, pleased that she didn't seem angry or upset. His keromedio's green eyes were clear, and they were focused on him. He released her, letting her lie back in the remaining pillows.

"I can make you forget," Medean whispered. He crawled until he was lower than she was. He didn't want to appear threatening. He wanted her to understand who he was.

"I can make you forget for as long as you'd like. As much as you'd like. In any manner, that you would like, Mistress. I am here to serve you."

Zyra looked down at him, his demeanor reminding her of anantuja,. Strange, how this pale, dark witch made her think of home.

"Alright," Zyra said hesitantly. "And, if I say stop..."

"I shall stop."

Medean stood. She watched him circle to the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. Carefully, he lifted up the sheets and ducked underneath them.

Zyra frowned. Curiously she lifted up the sheet.

"No peeking, Miss."

She released it, wondering what he possibly thought he was doing under there. Her question was answered when he grabbed her ankles and pulled her towards him. She lay on her back as Medean gently bent her knees. His hands teased around her pussy, caressing her thighs, and hips just out of reach of her aching center. She found herself quivering with anticipation, knowing at any moment he would touch her where she wanted. Wetness began to gather between her folds and she wiggled in irritation.

Zyra gasped when something soft and hot encased her clitoris. It was his mouth.

Medean sucked gently on her clit, and Zyra wailed in response. His hand stuck out of the sheets for a moment and she watched a clear barrier form around the room. He didn't have to tell her that she could now be as loud as she wanted.

She pressed two fingers into her mouth and ran her tongue around them, strangely comforted by the action as his tongue swirled around the throbbing nub.

"I want to see," she cried, pressing her wet hand to her chest. "Let me see."

Medean pulled the sheets off and gave her a look that indicated he was aroused by her desire. He released her clit and trailed his tongue between her pink folds, glistening with her arousal. Medean wasn't sure whether to be proud he had made her this wet, or impressed that she could get this wet in such a short time. When he buried his face inside of her, he looked up the plane of her body. Zyra's eyes were closed and her head was turned to the side. Her fingers dug into the bed and her full, pink, lips pursed with inaudible cries. He felt himself harden at the image. Medean hadn't been lying, Zyra was quite beautiful, especially on her back, moaning from his tongue.