The Balance Ch. 22-24

"I can." At her slack-jawed look of astonishment, he went on. "Our ways are not yours, my lady. I am not familiar with the christian vows..."

"But even your vows in your own religion, among your own people! I heard the baker talk to his daughter today. She was clear that although your young people may dally without shame, once they are wed they are expected to cleave to one and one only. Do not think me a fool that you can sway with false promises," her look was fierce, and she stood to leave. Before she could reach the door, Paul was in front of her, hands raised to show he was no threat.

"My lady, please listen. What you say is true. Marriages in Heklos are for life, and expected to be monogamous. Though if the two parties grow weary of each other, they may separate without shame. But in the case of my lady wife and myself," he said with a crooked smile, "the Deity decreed otherwise when she married us."

"Your Deity...married you?" Angela choked.

"Yes. It came as quite a surprise to myself," Abiron said with considerable understatement. "She bade us love each other as long as we lived. But She did not demand that we bind ourselves one to the other, solely. This caused me quite a fair amount of confusion on our wedding night." He smiled in remembrance.

"This is all to say, my lady, that if you desire me, I in turn desire you, and there are no barriers to our joining, for this night at least."

Angela scowled in furious thought. Could she trust him? To her knowledge, in all their days together, Abiron had never told her a falsehood. Indeed, he had actively avoided making claims which he was not sure he could fulfill, such as prophecy or the working of "miracles". But this?

"Swear it." Her voice shook. "You have made arguments for many days about the power of your Deity. Swear the mightiest oath you know."

She thought he was going to protest for a moment. Then he nodded and looked straight into her eyes.

"I, Abiron, son of Aethon, swear this to you, Angela, daughter of Robert, in the name of the Deity Herself. If I lie, if I take you to bed under false pretenses, may my seed wither and my line be barren. May I never please my wife again and may her face be turned against me. May the Deity Herself strike me down where I stand, and my name cursed by my people from this moment forward until the world itself ends." He looked at her challengingly.

Angela nodded. "Now that is an oath worth swearing," she said.

Deity, I hope you are listening, because if I am wrong, I have doomed the line which you have kept alive for generations beyond count, and you are going to have to find someone else to keep it going.

He cast desperately in his mind, hoping for the sense of completion he received when a spell or prayer had been answered. None was forthcoming. Instead, he received the impression of vast, vast amusement, that the Deity in all Her incarnations was enjoying a mighty joke at his expense.

That will have to do, I suppose. He turned his attention back onto Angela.

And saw that he was behind, and would have to work quickly to catch up to her. Angela had turned her back to him and was in the process of removing her nun's habit, pulling the thick, restricting garment over her head. The motion caused her chemise to ride up, and Abiron looked admiringly at her shapely calves and slim, well-muscled thighs. At last she succeeded in removing the mark of her chains from her, and hurled it with a muttered curse into a corner.

She stood there, golden in the candles and the firelight, trembling and afraid. He could see it in her wide-eyed gaze and the way her hands clasped nervously in front of her, unsure of what to do.

"Angela. My friend. I seem to find myself overdressed," he said with a deprecating motion at his clothes. "Will you assist me?"

With a jerky nod she came forward. Except for the leather coat, which he had removed hours before, he was wearing the same clothes in which they had their excursion...was it still the same day? It seemed a lifetime ago. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his jacket.

"Slowly, my angel," the endearment came unbidden to his lips. "Do not ruin your pleasure with haste."

"But your wife. She may come in at any time."

"And if she does she may ask to join us."

Angela's head snapped up, her eyes wide in astonishment. He reached out a hand and caressed her cheek, smiling at her.

"A joke, Angela. My wife has told me stories about her time in the temple of the Wanton, but I do not think she would join our love-play without your invitation."

"That is well," she said severely. "Some of the women in my cloister turned to each other for comfort. I never have. What I want tonight is you." With a hiss of triumph she finished unbuttoning his jacket. She tossed it aside. Carefully she considered her next step. The shirt, she decided. God's Blood. Why couldn't he have been in bed? At least then I would have had fewer layers to deal with. Working with growing confidence, she removed his shirt, and looked on his chest, skin darker than her own, smooth except for a downy dusting of hair that began at his navel, and, thickening slightly, traced a path into his breeches, towards his groin. Her breath caught as a swell of desire, unfamiliar and almost unknown, rose over her.

Abiron, in turn, looked at Angela in wide-eyed appreciation. What he had suspected but had been unable to confirm was now revealed as truth. Her body was a plaything created by the Deity for a man's delight. Her chemise was not a barrier to ardor, but rather a goad. The fire and candles in the room served to make it translucent, so that he could make out the shadows of her hidden curves. Her strong legs rose to exquisitely sculpted hips, which in turn dove inward towards her belly before rising to her chest. Her arms were softly rounded, and the pale flesh of her throat was flushed by heat and longing.

A stray memory caught at him, and he cast his mind back to another bedroom, in a temple, where an incarnation of the Deity spoke with him, roused out of slumber.

Please, my Lady, he prayed. Let me do right. Though our nation be ground to dust tomorrow, let me give Angela a happy night.

"Angela?" he asked softly. "You will have to help me. I came to my marriage bed a virgin, and my wife guided me in the ways men and women may give each other joy. But all women are different, and I do not know how to best serve you. Will you tell me?"

Angela laughed, and the sound was jagged and bitter. "How can I tell you that, when I barely know myself?" She stepped close to Abiron, and laid a hand on his cheek. He leaned into it, yearning. "I suppose we will have to teach each other, my friend."

Start at the waist, Ariana's advice, spoken months ago, whispered in his mind. He laid his hands gently on Angela, taking care to keep his touch feather-light. Stroking, motions slow and sure, he caressed her from hip to where the fan of her ribs began to swell into the proud outthrust of her breasts. Stepping closer, he ran his hands down the long, strong muscles of her back, stopping short of the taut curves of her buttocks.

In turn, Angela began to explore his body. She drifted her hands down the strong lines of his chest, fingertips exploring him with delight. Her breath began to grow short. Greatly daring, she brought her face close to his neck and nuzzled him while he groaned in pleasure.

Enough, she thought. She came to him, sealing her body against his. She hooked her hands behind his shoulders and brought his sweet mouth down to hers for their first kiss. Boldly she opened her mouth and sought his tongue with hers. She felt his hands firmly grasp the curve of her hips, and in turn sought out the hard muscles of his buttocks. She cupped them in her palms, reveling in the strong feel of him under her hands.

Her hands sought to go lower. Bending her knees, she knelt before him, hands learning how his buttocks gave way to his thighs and thence to his calves. She removed his shoes, and her mouth dipped for a quick kiss on the arches of his feet. Still kneeling, her hands reached up and with sure fingers undid the flies of his breeches. She hooked her fingers in the waistband, and with one abrupt movement pulled his breeches to his feet. Eyes wide, she took in the object of her desire, standing strong and proud, bobbing in front of her face in time with his heartbeat, which she could feel in her palms as they rested on his legs. She licked her lips, staring at it. Her previous encounter, sweet as it was, had been a fumbled, hurried thing. She had had no chance to explore all the possibilities of desire. She looked up at Abiron.

"My friend, will you take me to bed?"

He looked gravely down at her. "With all my heart, my angel." Clumsily, he kicked off his breeches. Then, with dignity unimpaired by either his nudity or by his erection, he took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom he shared with his wife.

Sitting on the bed, he gazed at her standing in front of him. He still held her left hand in his right. In turn, her eyes never left him. They drank him in with the intensity a woman dying of thirst gives to a clear-running stream. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she gently removed her hand from his grasp and pulled her chemise over her head, revealing, for the first time, her body to the man whom she had grown to love.

His breath caught in his throat. Her body was even more magnificent than he had imagined. Not his mother-wife's, but clearly, simply, her own. Her pale thighs rose to a luxuriant patch of curling golden hair which shielded her sex. Over the rise of her pubis, her flat stomach gave way gently to her ribs, then to her breasts, smaller than his mate's, jutting forth perkily, capped with rose-tipped nipples, stiff with desire.

"Come to me, my angel. Let me love you."

Trembling, with a mental effort which was almost physical, she allowed him to move her onto the bed beside him. Hands stroking, he lay her on her back. Murmuring soft endearments, he covered her face and neck with soft kisses until some of the tension left her body. Sensing her relaxation, he moved lower, hands tracing lazy circles around her stomach, probing lower. As his hands entered the thatch of curls at her pubis, he felt her tense again.

"What are you doing?" her voice was soft but nervous.

"Do you want me to stop?" Moving lower, a finger traced the petals of her flower, gratified to find more than a hint of dampness there. She sighed happily, resting her head on his shoulder, watching his every move with curious interest. Casting a silent prayer to the Deity, he slicked his finger with her dew, then lightly, oh so lightly, teased her entrance. Sensing his intention, her legs opened, spread thighs granting him the access he needed. Blessing his mother for the long lessons she had given him, he teased her cleft until he felt her folds open, a flower unfurling to welcome the sun of passion. He caught her face in his hands, kissing her deeply.

"Darling, I am going to do something new. Please, if you do not enjoy it, tell me to stop. But I think you will enjoy it very much indeed." Without another word, he slid down the bed until his head rested between her thighs. He looked up at her as she raised herself on her elbows, mouth wide in astonishment, as he lowered his head to kiss her most intimate parts.

Almighty God! Why did no one ever tell me things like this were possible? The feel of his hot mouth on her was indescribable. She shuddered as he worked on her. Of its own volition, one hand stole down and grasped Abiron by the hair, guiding his movement. The other rose and cupped her breast, mauling it gently, thumb playing over the passion-peaked nipple. Suddenly a new sensation was felt. That's not his mouth. That's his tongue! If she was astonished before, now her head reeled in amazement. She could feel the clever tip working over her folds, seeking, seeking...

Finding. Finding the nubbin of pleasure which she had stimulated, in secrecy and in guilt, since she had found it when she was fourteen years old; a shameful pleasure. And with that, the heat that had been silently coiling and building within her came rushing forward, flooding her womb with need. Her eyes squeezed shut, thighs clamped hard around her lover's head. The heel of one hand came down to grind on the rise of her mons, driving the sensations higher.

"Abiron, oh Abiron, my love. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

If he heard her, he gave no sign, but his mouth and tongue continued their gentle play, and her hips, beyond her control now, began to rise and fall, grinding her sex into his face. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her legs sagged wide, exposing herself lewdly, toes curling, clenching the bedclothes, fingers pulling at her nipples. Sucking great lungfuls of air, skin flushed, breasts heaving, dam breaking, the muscles of her stomach and thighs trembled and shook, and as the wave of her orgasm hit her she screamed her joy and grief and desire.

Before her pleasure had receded, she had Abiron by the ears and was pulling him toward her. She kissed him, only vaguely aware of her taste on his lips. With strength she did not know she had she flung him back-down on the bed. She ran a hand delicately over the quivering length of his phallus, rejoicing as his eyes rolled back in his head and his hips pushed his manhood into her palm. Straddling him, she used her lips to coat him with her nectar, reveling in his thick hard heat. Rocking slowly back and forth, she drew his head to her breasts.

"Here, darling. Kiss me here." And he did. His clever tongue nursed and suckled her nipples while his hands kneaded her breasts, inflaming her further. His hands stole down her back to her ass, cupping the taut globes of her buttocks, guiding her strokes to give him more pleasure. She felt the bulbous head of his glans nudge into her opening. With a gentle wriggle of her hips, she granted this most welcome visitor access, and with delightful friction his cock pierced her core.

By the Deity! It was wonderful. No hurried encounter in a meadow, however lovely in memory, could compete with this. The thick hair of his groin tickled her, and with new knowledge, she was able to cant her hips to increase her own pleasure. Sliding up and down his pole, breathless with joy, she gazed deep into his eyes. Leaning down once more, she kissed him, tongue dancing with his, sighing deep into his mouth as his palms ran over her aching nipples.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, Abiron, know now that I love you."

Her pace increased, held, increased again. Angela felt, more than heard, Abiron's breath speed, and knew his time was close. The flesh of her buttocks slapped his thighs. One hand reached in to frantically stimulate her button, the other cupped Abiron's cheek in gentle wonder as she kissed him. Abiron's cock within her grew. She felt the muscles within her twitch, then clamp down on his phallus as her second orgasm hit. With a shriek of happiness, she came a second time as she felt him spurt his seed deep within her.

Exhausted, she collapsed on his chest, legs entwined, hips still gently pressing against his in the aftermath of her orgasm, head pillowed on his shoulder, his hair tickling her nose as she kissed his cheek. Wrinkling it, she turned her head to face the other way.

And saw, splendid in the candlelight, High Priestess Ariana.

"Well, isn't this interesting."