Page 36 of Boundless
Her pleasure wound higher and higher, stealing her senses as it crested and snapped, a guttural cry ripping from her throat as she clenched hard on his length. Len gasped then sobbed, following her over with an expression of rapt bliss on his lovely sex-pinkened face.
When she was finally able to string thoughts together again she grinned down at him, leaning in to give him a messy kiss before lifting off of him to untie him and grab some rags for cleanup.
"And how did you like this?" she asked as she eased the plug from his hole.
"I-I liked it," he told her, grinning sheepishly. "But I think I like—I like it better w-when it’s you."
She kissed him again, wiping the lubricant and other fluids from his skin as gently as she could. “I like that better, too. But this is a little simpler, aye?"
He nodded, his smile relaxed and lazy. "True." He held a hand out to her, beckoning. "Come here, wife. Forget that f-for now."
She chuckled, dumping the dirty rags and used plug on the bedside table and climbing back onto the bed beside him. As soon as she was settled he burrowed into her, cuddling close and burying his face in her armpit. He was fascinated with her scent, and had begun nuzzling the tufts of dark hair in her under arms when they lay together like this.
"Are you well, sweetling?" she murmured, dragging her fingers up and down his back. "Feeling alright?"
He hummed. "Very. Well, a bit nervous about tomorrow. But m-moreso excited."
She grunted in agreement. "Aye, me too. I'm right chuffed to be going home and getting to spend some proper time with you and the lads. But I worry that this week's been too quiet. That whoever slipped poison into our water will try something worse while we're out on the road." Len had met with his father after the incident, the elf king predictably using it as proof that the Istarii Drakan were behind it.
She worried at her lip, arms tightening around Len. "I worry...I'll fail to protect you."
Len tipped his head up, cupping her cheek and smiling softly. "But we'll have g-guards, darling. It's not on you to p-protect me all by yourself."
Her lips twisted. "I don't trust the guards. Don't trustanyonefrom this viper's nest but you and the lads," she grumbled, ‘the lads’ referring to Sevren and Maleom. "What if they're in on it? Or get infiltrated?" She shook her head. "No, I'll be treating this little trip like we're traveling solo."
Len frowned, but didn't contradict her. He settled back into her with a weary sigh, his long graceful fingers tracing tingling shapes onto her skin idly. "Have you c-convinced Maleom t-to come with us, then?" he asked.
"Aye. Kicking and screaming, but he's coming."
Len snorted. "I wonder w-why he fought you so hard. F-father wanted me to bring a c-council member to act as diplomat and h-he was the best choice. He's one of the few who cares for the people, rather than the p-power."
"He had a whole list of reasons, but I think the core of it is he's afraid of seeing his lady-love again. Yollyn. The nameisfamiliar, though I can't place it. So he might."
Len grinned up at her. "I hope he d-does find her, and they fall back in love. Wouldn't that be s-so romantic?"
"Aye, love," she said gently, "I hope for it, too. But I suppose we'll see." They lay together for a while longer, talking quietly, before finishing their cleanup and going to sleep. They’d be setting out early tomorrow, and it would no doubt be a long day.
THE NEXT DAYdawned bright but cool, Daega's enormous draft horse pawing at the ground in search of a snack. He was fitted with a special saddle that would accommodate her anatomy, and was a deep coal black with silver dappling over his nose and haunches. She'd been informed that his unimaginative name was Moonlight, which she immediately resolved never to use. Len was leaving his pure white Aggonian stallion at the castle and riding a sweet little cider-colored mare named Mana, who immediately got on Daega's good side by nuzzling Len and huffing affectionately at his hair as soon as they met.
Sev, who was doing much better but was still weak and easily winded, was riding with Maleom in the luggage cart. The king had tried to send Jespirr in Sevren's place, but Len had insisted, making Daega unspeakably proud. They also had a dozen guards with them who would take them to the horde camp and then head back to the castle, leaving the Istarii Drakan to provide the return escort.
But just like she’d said, Daega wasn't taking any chances; despite how the guards sneered at her she was riding out in full armor, her short sword and crossbow strapped to her hip and lower back. She would ride at Len's side the entire time, and she would keep a sharp eye out. They'd already agreed to sleep in shifts, unbeknownst to their guards, and they'd only eat the travel rations they'd already inspected and tested and packed with them, which they were keeping in their saddlebags rather than with the rest of the supplies.
Len was wearing some sort of fancy elvish armor under his clothes, something imbued with magic and passed down through his family that looked like simple cloth but would protect him from regular arrows and small blades, as well as flame and acid. But she didn't trust it and was tempted to force him into a leather tunic as well. But he'd made the point that if he got too hot it would make him sick, so she'd begrudgingly agreed he’d do without.
"H-how long to the camps, again?" the man in question asked once the castle was just a speck far behind them.
"It took us eight days, but we were slowed by that downpour that happened a week before our wedding. I'd think if we kept up a good pace we could handle it in six. Aye, lads?" she asked the nearest guards, two younger elves not many years beyond Len's 25. The one with near-white skin and long coal-black hair pulled back into a braid sniffed in disdain and narrowed his eyes, but the other, darker-skinned and with his hair in neat locs pulled back from his face in a half-bun, smiled tentatively and nodded.
"I think that's a fair estimate, my lady," he said slowly, his voice deep and kind.
She groaned, flapping her hand in his direction. "Vitrin's mercy, leave that 'my lady' nonsense. I'm not even a ‘proper’ lady by your standards."
"Well, I can't just call you by your name. That's rude and improper," the kinder guard responded.
"Why not? It's my name, not a slur!"
Len chuckled. "You'll have to let them call you 'm-my lady' or 'Princess', dearest. I t-told you this."
