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The Idol Room becomes a fun place for Faye, and a place of torment and rapture for Lukas.
He is offering prayers to the Mother. Eyes shut, hands clasped, thoughts only of her upon her throne and blessing the sick and wounded and meek with her gifts. She floats down from her throne, pressing a hand against the wounds of a soldier. They clear in a great warmth of light.
His thoughts are pure and holy until he feels a hand on his thigh. It roves from the outside, inwards and grazes his crotch. It moves along the creases of his pants and scrapes a little. The fabric against his cock is intoxicating and—
Her hand presses down. A low moan escapes his lips. Shit . Gods, in complete silence?
“Are you alright Lukas?” Silque asks. Her voice is close, and she’s near him. His eyes flicker up, moving over to Faye who hides a smirk under her bowed head, plaits masquerading the curve of her lips.
“Only consumed with love for the Mother.” He musters as Faye clasps her hands and says a prayer a little louder.
“Perhaps you should take a break then. Gather your thoughts and return later.” She suggests.
He nods, watching as Silque returns to prayer and Faye looks up cheekily. She throws him a wink. Oh she will pay, he’ll find someway to get her back.
Faye has made it clear while they are lovers they need to train. And in training, they must hold back nothing. To slack in there is set up to die on the battlefield. So after she emerges from the Idol Room and they set up camp outside the Shrine, Lukas calls her for a test of strength. The other Deliverance members busy themselves with other daily work—gathering firewood, going to town for supplies, lending a hand in the infirmary, polishing weapons—while Lukas finds two pairs of gauntlets.
He knows his opponent won’t refuse to a friendly match, especially if he asks nicely. Plus, he could use the release of energy and he’s sure she would too after grabbing his dick inside one of Mila’s houses.
She’s tacking up her horse when he comes close, the extra set of gauntlets in his hands. “Care for a spar?” he asks.
Her brow raises, dark gaze flickering from his eyes to the gauntlets in his hands. “Why me? Couldn’t Forsyth use the practice?” she asks.
“You’ll be kicked off your horse at times. What then?” He asks, watching as she lets go of her steed’s reins and following him to a nearby clearing. She either can’t argue, doesn’t want to, or is eager to burn off some energy…
Or wants to grab him again. He’s willing to take the chance.
The knight holds out the gauntlets to her. Faye’s lips smirk a little for a second before feigning confusion. “Lukas, I’m not sure how to put these on.” She says convincingly.
Such a tease . He thinks. She holds out her hands, her dark eyes on him as he slips on the gauntlet, then the glove and laces them. Sneakily, he presses a kiss to her fingertips from the eyes of other soldiers that mill about. “Thank you,” she says softly and only to him.
“Shall we?”
Faye nods, raising her fists. She looks focused, as if this is nothing more than a spar with a friend. Well, it is that. But he sees more opportunities for it. He fakes right, and she falters, skidding out of the way. He stalks her.
“You should always watch for the enemy, plan a move ahead." He says.
“And of myself?” Faye asks, side stepping when he attempts to take out her leg. She’s quick and he is not.
“Be aware of what you’re capable of.” He says. “One wrong move and you could be worm’s meat.”
She jabs at his side, making him wince. He takes her hand, turning it around and pinning her. “Like this.” Her body melds to his, her lithe frame against his armour.
Faye’s eyes bore into his for a moment before her hand comes down hard on his thigh. He winces, falters and she tries to knock him down. He stands tall, bracing himself for another punch. When she throws it, he takes her hand in his holding it tight.
“Try harder.”
Faye’s face scrunches up. She slams down on his foot, causing him to double over. Somehow, her leg flies up, almost past her head and meets his shoulder. He’s down within a second, staring up at the proud cavalier who smirks. He’ll have to remember that she can do that for their meetings later on.
Then, when he’s trying to recover, she lunges and knocks him flat on his back. She comes down on his neck, her thighs around his face. Gods, her pussy is so close—Mila above, this is worse than her grabbing his dick in a holy place. His cheeks burn as she looks down on him with a smirk.
“Are you aware of what you’re capable of Lukas?” She asks coyly, her fingers curl in his hair, pulling his head up.
He manages to snake one of his hands from under her leg. A finger pulls out and scratches behind her knee, a spot he'd teased many time before and always got a satisfactory reaction out of. She winces—no, gasps—with pleasure, loosening the clasp of her thighs on his face. Lukas takes the opportunity to push her over his shoulder and onto her back. She lays flat against the earth, pressing her down by the shoulders, one of his legs over her stomach.
“Acutely.” He responds with a smirk.
Faye stares up into his eyes for a moment. She almost looks defeated, shocked, torn; but she mostly looks beautiful, breathless and hair splayed from it’s ties. Then she pulls a dirty trick, running her hand along his crotch. Dirty, in more ways than one, but more so unfair; now he’s getting hard.
He gasps, loosening his hands on her shoulders for her to knock him back down. There’s a few cheers from a newly-found crowd. Faye manages to get to her feet, begins a running start and knocks him back against an old farmhouse. It rattles and shakes as the crowd cheers for her. He can hear Forsyth cheering for him, and then chastising Python who yawns with boredom. And as Lukas glimpses into her eyes under her pin he smirks.
“You’ve been taught well.” He marvels.
“I had a good teacher.” She says, a little breathless.
He’s not even struggling for breath yet, and he’s stronger than her. He shoves her shoulder, and pins her back against the barn. Faye cries out and falls back. “I yield!” She cries out.
He takes his hands off of her, suddenly concerned. He leans for her, out of concern... no... out of lo—
“I’m fine.” She assures him. She holds out her hand. “Good spar.”
Gingerly, he shakes her hand. And, as a gentleman does, raises her hand to his lips. Had this been any other setting, it would be daring, almost besmirching his family’s name. Faye flushes a little, eyes wide as the crowd disperses. He hears Forsyth and Python call him over and offers a thin smile to Faye. “Tonight?” He mouths.
She straightens her pigtails and nods.
Thank Mila. He begins to loosen his gauntlets and turns away from her. Then, as he’s walking towards his friend, he hears a loud clunk! and then a cuss that follows.
He turns around and Faye is clutching her hand. It’s red. Her eyes glisten with tears. “Faye? What—did you get hurt during the spar?” He asks.
She shakes her head, cradling her hand. It almost looks broken, drooping at an awkward angle. “No.” She says, holding it close to her chest.
Gingerly, he pulls at her arm and looks at the hand. It’s beginning to swell and grow hot already. “What happened then?” He asks.
“Lukas, your... your rear is rock hard.” Faye says lowly.
His eyes widen. “My what?”
“Your butt is buns of steel!” She says, voice growing higher. He’s going to die. He feels death looming, or some cruel fate. If Mila doesn’t smite him for indulging before union, he will die of embarrassment. “Are you aware that your butt is so tight that I broke my hand trying to slap it?”
“You broke your hand?” He asks, eyes widening. Forsyth comes closer.
“It feels like it!” Faye says.
“Why did you insist on—” he can't even finish the sentence.
Faye catches on. “It’s a normal thing to slap your opponent’s butt after sparring right?!” She says nervously. “I see Gray and Tobin and your friends doing it all the time!”
Gods above strike him down. Mila, send a stray lightning strike to him. Right now. “I am wearing armour Faye, you just smashed your hand on solid steel.” He says sharply.
The girl stares dumbly at her hand and frowns. “No wonder why it really hurts.”
“We should see Silque. Gods above what will we tell her?”
“That your royal rear rivals a Dracoshield?” He stays silent. Through tears she smiles. “C’mon it was funny.”
She’s right. But that doesn’t solve the problem of her broken hand. Nor what he will say to Silque. She is a blabber mouth, surely her ears will catch the gossip and Gods, if anyone found out that they had been sneaking around camp together the Deliverance might fall apart! And if not that, if it reached his Father, he’d be shocked and probably disinherit Lukas, with whatever meagre goods he was planned to get.
“You do realize the consequences, right?” He asks, steering her away from the battle grounds and his friends. He waves them off. They walk towards the infirmary. “It’s not proper for a knight to be fooling around with a—“
“Girl from nowhere, I know. I’m sorry.” Faye says, looking a little forlorn and annoyed. “The only proper thing to do is to add me to the family registry.”
He almost falls over, his feet stumble through the grass. “I’m sorry! I was kidding again!” She cries out. “Like you’d marry me.”
He feels like he’s going to vomit. His silence does little to comfort her as they come up to the infirmary. But for a moment, his unfaithful mind wanders.
She, Belle of Ram, his bride. A soft love, perhaps. He thinks of two possibilities: one of returning to his family’s House with her on his arm and telling his brother to shove it. Perhaps even taking the estate in some startling fantasy. Of reading poetry to her in rare lazy afternoons; Faye’s face lit up when she snow for the first time and making an angel in the powder; wearing her stitched creations with a proud smile; and... perhaps constructing a greenhouse in the southern part of the manor, so that she may plant the flowers of her village. And in the dead of winter, he would ask for her hand and they would be married in the springtime.
But another reality, one of running from duty and to her village, entices him. Building their own home on the edge of the village, facing the sea so that they rise to the sight of a new unseen world every morning. Of protecting the village that raised her, and living off the land. Spinning wool and shearing sheep; huddled under a warm blanket after they had finished making love, both breathless. He thinks of asking her father for her hand and buying her a fine ring that only dulls in comparison to her. And in the secret of a church in town with only friends to be witnesses, they will be married; he in his uniform and she in her grandmother’s wedding robe of cotton and thread. And as night falls, he pulls away the belt of her robe and pushes away the cloth. He meets her lips, pulling her close and loosening the slip that hides her brassiere. She squirms, slipping from her underwear and reaching for his belt, almost breaking it with her lust. She pushes him back against their bed, which has used for such a purpose before with vigor, and pulls him out rubbing him down. With her eyes full of lust and love, she presses him into a passionate kiss and guides him into—
“Goodness, what happened here?” Silque asks, breaking his reverie. The infirmary closes around him, and he feels his pants grow painfully tight. He watches as Silque gingerly takes Faye’s hand in hers. “Your hand is swollen to pieces.”
The cleric looks expectantly at him. Her commanding officer. He leaps to speak, face on fire. “It was an accident.” He lies. “We were sparring, hand to hand and Faye jabbed—“
The patient in question simply stares at him and rolls her eyes. She speaks frankly. “I tried slapping Lukas’s ass and I broke my hand on it.”
Mila, scratch the lightning bolt: a freak human combustion will do. Immediately.
He turns bright red as Silque laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough. She keeps gaze from Lukas. “Well it’s not a break, that’s the good news.” Silque says. “It’s only a sprain. Although—“
Now it's Lukas's turn to look elsewhere. “It was an accident, was it not Sir Lukas?” She asks. Her eyes are searching for a secret, anything to give away their clandestine union. Faye seems unphased by it, perhaps there is some solitude or secrecy in the world of women? So he takes Silque’s blessing, and nods.
“She was going to pat my back and misjudged the.” He lies, glancing to her.
Silque nods. “I see. Thank you Sir Lukas, now if you’ll excuse Faye and I...”
He slips out of the infirmary and feels a breath course through his lungs. In his mind, he begs for Mila to end his embarrassment.
Faye comes around his tent when night falls. Her hair is down from it’s plaits and waving over her shoulder and down her back. Her hand is bandaged, wrapped in gauze and pinned around the palm. Lukas stares at it when the canvas curtain falls behind her. “Hi,” Faye greets quietly.
He stares at her wrapped palm. “My ass did that to you.” He says regretfully.
Faye can’t help but hide a laugh behind her free hand. She sits down on the floor as Lukas brings the candlelight closer and holds out his hand. He gingerly takes it in his own and shakes his head.
“Silque used white magic on it.” Faye tells him. She wiggles her fingers so good measure. “See? The bandages are just to keep it in place for a bit.”
Lukas simply stares at her hand, wrapped in cotton. Slowly, she closes the gap between the two of them, bringing her lips to his neck. A hand comes up to pull back the collar of his shirt. Still, he stares at her bandaged hand and shakes his head as her lips move across his skin.
“Faye, I would feel better,” he starts, garnering her attention. She lifts her head to his, hand just a few inches from his thigh. “If you didn’t... exert yourself tonight.”
Her brow furrows. “It’s just a sprain—“
“No, let me rephrase.” Lukas says. “I wish to treat you tonight Faye. Would you allow me that?”
Her lips curl into a smile. “Well, when you say it like that...” she says, her gaze trailing from his to her bandages. “A kiss always made every wound better when I was little.”
Lukas holds her gaze, raising her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. His lips graze along her skin, peppering her palm with kisses and moving to her knuckles that are bruised and marked by cuts. The war takes a toll on her, shown by how she moves, how she forces a smile around others and slugs through work.
She watches as he gently stretches out her fingers, pressing his lips to the tips of them. He moves his lips back along her fingers, against her warm palm once more and then to the inside of her wrist. Faye pulls back the cuff of her uniform, allowing him to make a mark that will be easily hidden.
Slowly, he pushes her back against his bedroll. Her hair falls against the futon almost like a river’s many currents. Her fingers gripping the sheets as he moves his lips agonizingly slow over her body. His hand traces her shoulder blades, along the curve of her waist and then to her hip bone. His touch is mesmerizing to her, Lukas watches as her eyes flutter shut and she bites her bottom lip. He isn’t even inside her yet and she already looked rapt; he can’t help but smile.
He loosens the straps of her shoes, his hand trailing up her legs softly, gently. Her bandaged hand swipes down to loosen the buttons on her one piece so that the bottom can be removed.
“Gods, you’ve gotten good.” She whispers.
“I had a good teacher.”
He moves his hand inside the waistband of her shorts, the calluses on his hands her pubic bone. He watches as it sends a visible shiver through her body. He moves closer to Faye, watching as she brow knits, her lips purse.
“May I?” He asks, ever the gentleman.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” Faye breathes.
He teases her clit with his middle finger for a second, watching as her face twists. Slowly, he moves it back and forth, finger teasing her lips. Back and forth, he strokes her agonizingly slow until she murmurs his name under her breath. Her legs tremble with anticipation, and slowly, Lukas guides his finger inside her cunt. He curls it slowly inwards, rubbing her clit ever so gently. She’s already soaking wet and they’ve only just begun.
Lukas moves closer to her face, pressing a kiss against her almost-silent lips. His tongue slips through her lips to stroke hers. She moans a little as he moves down her neck, loosening the collar of her uniform and making a mark as he fingers her.
One of Faye’s arms comes around his body, her fingers curling into his hair and pressing him into her breasts. She stares at him, open mouthed and gasping quietly. He can’t help but smile at her ravished expression.
“How long have you been waiting for this, my sweet?” He asks. He knows she grows soft with tender words. In truth, he doesn't mind being called love in secret; it makes his heart warm a little.
“Since you asked me to spar,” her voice is cut short by a little moan as he guides another finger inside her. She struggles for a breath, body trembling fully now. He uses his thumb to rub her clit hard. She moans a little louder, burying her open mouth into her hand to silence herself.
He keeps at it, speeding up his pace now as Faye moans into her hand openly. Her mewls only serve to make him hard and throw him into a selfish desire to see her gasping his name when she comes.
He pulls his hand out and thrusts it back in, making her eyes open wide. She curls herself up, watching as he finger fucks her slow and hard. Her teeth glisten against her bottom lip. She looks as though she’s about to come; but Lukas knows Faye, she can go for much longer than she looks. This is only the beginning and he has more planned.
“You know I used to think of very little things otherwise,” he tells her. Her lashes flutter open as he moves his hand into her. “But now I find myself thinking of you too often.”
“Too often?” She asks, breath catching as his fingers grazes her g-spot. “H-How often do you think of me.”
He smiles softly. “Almost every moment.”
It’s strange. Not too long ago, he thought he was incapable of love: broken in some way, like the Earth Mother crafted him without warmth, without a heart. But she... Faye... She brings out something in him. That fire he’d always wondered about, that desire that he’d seen in the eyes of lovers is now reflected back in his own eyes when he sees her.
Still stroking her, he moves lower to her face. His eyes focus on her as her lashes flutter open, holding his gaze. “May I have a taste?” He asks.
Wordlessly, Faye nods. Lukas gives her clit a final flick with his thumb, then pulls out of her. He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean of her. Faye only watches him with an intent gaze, open mouthed. Her hand gropes his bicep, pulling the fabric of his uniform between her fingers. Such lust drives him mad. Lowly, and sultry he can’t help but comment. “Sweet as its owner.”
She tries to say something, but it’s caught in her throat. Lukas looks up with a raised brow. It is unlike Faye not to speak her mind. His eyes flicker to her vag. “May I?” He asks.
“P-Please.” She begs. Her grip tightens and he fears that she’ll rip his shirt again.
He moves down further along her body, removing her bottoms. Gently, he moves Faye’s legs up, resting against her hips. Her pussy spreads before him, . Slowly, teasingly, he presses his lips to the insides of her thighs, making small marks and leaving imprints of his teeth. She whimpers, whispering his name as if it will help speed him up. His tongue runs along her smooth skin, tasting her in all her sweetness.
He moves his lips to her still-veiled vagina. She gasps at the sensation, her voice only growing higher when he rubs her clit a little against the fabric and runs the tip of his tongue along the cloth where her lips meet. Faye whimpers, one her hands curling into his hair. Slowly, Lukas slips off her panties and his tongue into her entrance, still gingerly rubbing her clit. She gasps hard, pulling his hair and cussing brutally.
Such a filthy mouth for the belle of Ram.
“Please, just hurry up.” She begs, breathless.
Lukas can’t help but smile. He adjusts his grip on her thigh and from the edge of her vagina, runs his tongue along her vulva. She gasps a little, as he moves agonizingly slow. He presses his thumb to her clit, rubbing it in a half circle. Her fingers tug on his hair harder, whispering his name.
It only serves to drive him wild. He runs his tongue along her flower a few times, each time slower and slower and more agonizing. When she’s almost speaking his name—threatening to wake the camp—he moves upwards and presses his thumb to her clit and rubs it round and round. She winces, gasps, swears into her hand.
Then, he changes. She’s soaking wet, slippery enough for him to slide two fingers right into the knuckle. He grazes her g-spot, moving his fingers for her to come here. She gasps again, the clutch in his hair growing painfully tight. He braces himself for more when he brings his lips to her clit and sucks it.
Faye almost screams, but pulls her hand from his hair to stifle her cry. Her shoulders shudder, her legs tremble and come over his shoulders, her breathing is ragged. She’s about to come.
“Do you forgive me?” He asks, blowing on her clit as he continues to finger her.
“I never resented you before.” She gasps, staring down at him. Her dark eyes are narrowed, pleading with pleasure.
“Do you love me then?”
“Yes, I love you honey.” Faye tries to smile but bites her lip to stop from crying out in pleasure again. “I adore you darling.”
“And who do you come for?”
“O-Only you Lukas,” she trembles, gasping now.
“Then come.” He smirks. He moves his fingers quickly now. She winces, trembles as he brings his lips to her clit and kisses it. Then he runs his tongue from her vulva, up to her clit and then sucks it hard. “Lu-Lukas,” she breathes, then her voice cuts short with ragged breathing. Her walls grow tight and close around his fingers, making them slick. She’s come at last. Her chest heaves up and down. Faye’s hand lets go of his bedroll which she’d been clutching her lust into.
He lifts his face from her cunt, pulling his fingers out from her. He holds her gaze and slowly licks his fingers clean again. Then, he reaches for her bandaged hand, pressing a kiss into the padded palm. She looks at him with wide doe eyes, then sits up. Faye pulls him close to her. He can hear her breathing, her gasps, feels her body shake with pleasure. And he feels tender, having heard her cries of love and lust for him.
“Is the pain gone now?”
Faye stares at him and nods quickly. “All gone,” she whispers, breath still not quite restored to her lungs. Impulsively, she pulls herself into his lap and holds her quaking body tightly against his stoic frame. Her fingers curl into his back as she rests her chin on his neck and whispers quietly, “I think I love you.”
Lukas can’t help but smile. Gently, he kisses her temple and strokes her hair, listening to the sounds of the night take over and fearing the looming daylight that will arrive in short hours.