Dark Passions: Dark Romance Boxed Set, page 73
She longed for this. Some part of her, some deeply recessed part, wanted this companionship. The touch, the passion. She had never thought, though, she would be afforded anything more than pain and abandonment. Ara’bor had surprised her, and it touched her deeper than she’d ever admit.
Tucking himself away, and closing off his gear, he shifted to their sitting spot. Though instead of just doing so abruptly and coldly, he tugged her with him, placing her back against his side, one arm still around her as if nothing else had transpired between when he first put it there before their rutting. The mess of sex was but a minor thing, beneath the concern of some bandits trapped in the hills without convenience, and neither that, nor what was being done to her seemed to outwardly trouble him.
Her underthings were quickly soaked with his seed and she moved along him, her head dropped as she licked over her lips, her ribs still heaving with her quiet breaths. It was a long few moments before she spoke again, only after her breathing had corrected itself, “I’ll take over now.”
Nodding slightly, his head bobbing a bit, his eyelids drooped just slightly. It had been a long day for him, and the sex tapped what little energies he had left, making sleepiness creep in. In a gruffer voice than usual he replied as he rested back against the stone, “I’ll wait out your shift here.”
The littlest things, the most casually insignificant had heightened to her, and his offer was enough to make her swoon. It was something so simple and kind that she thought she might break down once more, but she stayed stern, giving him a long, thankful glance as she nodded.
He let his head droop a bit, arm around her as the large man nestled in after their coupling to drift off.
Chapter 5
Watch was usually the worst part of Elin’s day, but today it was different. It was a reprieve from the men and a chance to clear her head. She wasn’t willing to give up, and if there truly was a place that she might be able to disappear into, she would guide them there. Practical concerns nagged at her, however, as the risk of pregnancy grew.
Her shift was shorter than she wished it, for once, and she slowly made her way to Ara’bor, touching his shoulder lightly to stir him from sleep.
Barely had her fingers grazed his shoulder than his eyes flung open and a hand darted for her arm. He grasped her there, gaze softening upon seeing her from its state of alarm. No words needed to be said; he simply rose up and released her, turning to head inside to the relative shelter of the hide-tent.
Moving inside he settled onto his mat, letting her rouse Glis’n afterwards, keeping their new... alliance? Relationship? A secret.
The routine of it all went along normally, and the dark Ara’bor left space for her to climb over him and nestle between him and the tent wall, despite their efforts to keep the other two from knowing the extent of their new ‘arrangement’.
The life of a bandit was anything but eventful on times like these, and for the first time, she was thankful for the routine. She was chilled from the cold and quickly settled in next to the larger man, but unlike previous nights, Ara’bor did more than just lay beside her. One of his thick arms came around her form and tugged her close against him.
The act, in another time, might have been easily construed as romantic or possessive, but the chill of the mountain made close entanglements a pleasant reprieve from the cold in and of itself. The protection, albeit small, provided her enough comfort to find a deep sleep.
Odir was on the last watch as the morning light broke and they emerged, breakfast a slow and sombre affair before the small fire pit.
Ara’bor kept her near as they arrived. Seating himself before the pit, the dark man crossed his legs and spoke to her lowly, “Get the fire going strong,” he said, the thing having been let die out during the night. The morning ritual went about the same as it ever had, the group reabsorbing the returned elf organically.
She was still rather silent as she went to work, starting the first of the many mundane tasks of the day. The fire started and food served, Ara’bor placed a hand upon her and guided her to sit not just beside him, but nestled against him at the makeshift bench.
The other two men said not a word on it, the usually stoic leader having made his point: She was under his protection.
Ara’bor’s low voice came across clearly as the meal was finished, “Since Glis’n is returned, an’ the news ain’t good, we should prepare to move camp again. Stayin’ in one place too long is a death sentence. Today Odir will keep watch near the camp and check the traps we have nearby. Glis’n, you go lookin’ for firewood.”
After just a brief pause he continued his commands, unceremoniously, “Elin an’ I will go in search of new camp areas.”
There was a moment of shock, of confusion, but she continued to clean her bowl, keeping her face away from the other two men.
Changing routines was not something that happened often, and they were all aware of it. The elf was a better tracker than her, and Odir knew the lands better than them all, being the only one born in the valley, so Elin knew it would not be kindly received.
Ara’bor went about things as confident and calmly as ever, but kept her nearer to himself even through the mundane tasks of tidying up.
It didn’t take much to get ready. Slinging his crossbow over one shoulder to his back, scimitar in place, he pulled a fur lined helm on before setting out. The day was gray and cloudy, but showed no signs of precipitation as they parted from the other members out over the craggy mountainside.
Her eyes were intensely focused on the lands beyond, her pace kept close to his. The preferential treatment bothered her, despite the protection it afforded, and it nagged at her mind as they scanned the land.
“They won’t be pleased with this,” Elin said after they were long out of earshot of the others.
Ara’bor arched a brow. He was not one who usually accepted criticism or doubt of his commands, and she could tell that the remark struck him as off.
“Don’t worry about it,” he intoned deeply after a pause. Recognizing that would no doubt not suffice for her, he added, “Men know not to question another man in matters of their mate.”
She almost paused walking, but she managed to keep her pace, studying him for a long few heartbeats, her feelings were conflicted upon her face. Staring straight ahead she continued on, “Then, thank you.”
The armour Ara’bor wore belonged to a well-to-do mercenary, and though it had taken some scuffs and scrapes, it held up even in their lifestyle as outcast bandits and the well-crafted and intricately inlaid armour added to the man’s own presence.
He was a serious man, even at times like these. He didn’t even break the silence when he lifted a hand to point ahead to a promising site, the rock outcroppings especially dense and appearing, at first glance, like nothing more than fallen rubble.
Elin hadn’t the knowledge or awareness to know the full difference between a good spot and a dangerous spot, but she started in the direction of the rubble. The dreary skies only added to the drabness of their task, the gray rocks of the mountainside meeting the colour of the sky.
Heading over the rocks, they eventually came to the projection Ara’bor had indicated, and winding in through the large stones they eventually came to find little networks through the rocks. Making their way through, they found several well hidden nooks, altogether a smaller size than their current campgrounds.
With as little as she knew about hiding places, though, she thought it would work. The time away from the other two men was refreshing her spirits, and she looked towards Ara’bor hopefully, “What do you think?”
Reaching a hand up, Ara’bor pulled the helm from his head and laid it upon a stone, his crossbow soon to follow as he turned to look at her. “It’ll do,” he said roughly, closing the gap in between them to tower over her up close. They had been gone from camp a few hours already, and he pressed himself up to her as an arm went about her waist.
She felt her heart quicken as she sank into the much taller man. Whether in fright, or just awareness and understanding, she knew what was happening as soon as he wrapped his arm around her.
He wasn’t forcing her, as he hadn’t the previous night. Not physically, at least. Though powerful, he kept a close hold on her, his second hand coming up to touch against her face beneath her hood. “Let’s break here,” he intoned, pressing his thick lips to hers, his tongue pressing out to graze against her mouth.
His softer touches jolted her the most, making her stomach lurch in fear of some reprisal to follow it. As his lips met hers, that momentary fright grew before she forced her body to relax, her form melting against his as her tongue explored his mouth.
Elin was too used to a life of betrayal and savagery, and even Ara’bor was a part of that record of abuse now. Her natural inclination towards fear was not easily assuage, but she pushed the feelings back and let him in. If only a little.
The man was anything but soft, but in her demon tainted world, the hate and fear she’d known all her life had never spared her any hardship. Even though the skin of his hands was rough, his every motion strong and hard, she felt that there was something kinder behind it than she was used to. Trapping her against one of the rock walls of the crevice and his body, his throat undulated as he kissed her solid and deep, tasting out her flesh with his hungry need.
He was a man who helped himself, and he gripped her possessively. Her face was still cold from the wind, her cheeks a bit ruddier as she shifted, a hand rising to his arm and clasping at his bicep.
Her fingers sank between the plates of metal through the fur and leather lining of his padded armour, his motions carrying on. It had only been the night before they made their strange arrangement at the camp, and he seemed intent upon making the most of it into the first day. His lips broke the seal on hers, but he just lifted his head and looked at her as Elin gripped him tighter, her face tentative and unsure.
One hand roamed over her body, feeling her flesh under the thin, worn clothing as his mouth returned to hers. It was something strange to her, what they currently had, and she was taken aback by his hunger. They’d traveled together for so long and he had always seemed so disinterested in her. That was why she’d always felt so safe, but now it was his lust that protected her, and the irony was not lost on her.
The change in him was dramatic. He’d never shown another side of himself to his gang. Always the stoic, serious commander, he never let his facade fade unless it was to anger, and then only when necessary.
None knew what he was like before their operations, or during their rare, and now almost forgotten, moments of time celebrating in town on their own. The eagerness with which he lusted for her body hinted at what he might have spent those times doing, however.
One of his hands pried open the newly won belt, working to her breeches to get his grabby hand inside them.
She shifted just enough to allow his thick hand beneath her pants, beneath her shabby under clothes, her slanted eyes fluttering closed. She was still sore from the day before, but as a bandit she was used to such discomforts. As a part demon, it was an uncommon relief to be without pain for any length of time.
As lonely, as dreary, as tiresome as it was traveling with the gang, it was still better than her alternatives.
She whimpered slightly as he felt her dry petals, the few moments of passion having done little to excite her to the point of arousal.
The large Ara’bor was perhaps just eager for the touch of a woman, the feel of one on his flesh. It had been so long since he last had any opportunity for such an encounter, and he seemed to yearn for her.
Or perhaps something had kindled in him for the woman he’d spent so many long years with. Maybe guilt and seeing her vulnerable had caused a spark to spread in his heart.
Regardless, he continued kissing at her, his hard fingers pawing at her sex and over her chest as their lips smacked much more noisily than the night before.
She had no qualms with the noise this time, her body doing little to hinder his sounds as she positioned herself to allow him access; his willing servant. No matter what he did to her, it was better than what Odir and Glis’n would do if they had a chance.
‘Wear her out’ rang in her memory as her legs parted, her cloak opening against his ministrations, her body slowly warming and responding to his touches.
Ara’bor’s fingers, thick with callouses and the residue of their long exile, rubbed at her petals until they wept for him. Feeling her dampen, he pulled his hand out of her britches and began to turn her away, guiding her hands to the rock wall for support. Though it was day and the crevice they chose was sheltered from the winds, it was still not warm, and he still had no eagerness to expose either to the cold for long. Her pants tugged down to reveal her ass, he pulled her hood back and kissed at her neck as he fumbled to undo his own leather-armoured pants.
She shivered at the feel of the cold on her firm bottom, her skin bumping slightly before his warmth found her, her breath catching as his lips pressed against her.
The sensation was beyond anything she’d ever felt. Her throat was always one of her vulnerable points, and so often she’d felt rough, brutish hands around it rather than the soft, moist kiss of a lover. Her eyes rolled up and her mouth parted as she found herself comforted by his closeness.
She wasn’t a human, or even an elf. No instance of sex had been kind or gentle, and compared to the best of it, he was being a considerate lover. She shivered as her forearms braced on the stone, preparing herself as her body responded excitedly to his tenderness.
Neither was very clean or fresh after so long in the mountains, with only melted ice or snow in small amounts to drink, and little to spare for washing, though that long ago had stopped mattering. With one arm about her waist and stomach, he kept hold of her as he jabbed his thickness inside her folds. She was damper than before, and he slid in easily despite his girth. His chest pressed to her back as he bucked up inside fully, letting out a loud, low groan of satisfaction. Ara’bor, seeming intent on utilizing their private moment to enjoy their time together as best as circumstances would allow, immediately started to pump into her.
Neither of them was very talkative, which likely was one of the reasons they’d managed to stay together so long. Still, her mind whirled as she enjoyed the fierce thrusting, her feet poised up on tip toes to allow him the appropriate height.
It was wrong. She knew it was, on some level. That their relationship was twisted and that he’d treated her cruelly. Yet how could she fault him, when despite it all, he was the kindest person in her life? He’d protected her from the two other bandits, and touched her as if she were a real woman, not just a half-breed.
Even with her aid as such, Ara’bor had to bend his knees significantly and help hoist her for their bodies to interlock so. His motions were much harder than previous times, no doubt in part due to the aid of her natural honey. The scent of sex managed to tinge the crisp, cool midday air around them thanks to the relative stillness provided by their shelter.
His grunts and groans sounded so pleasured yet forceful, their bodies slapping noisily together as their friction built up heat, even to the point where they managed to feel too hot — something neither had experienced since their exile to the mountains. It made clinging to the moment so much more delicious, and almost enough to tempt them to shed more clothes.
Her balance was precarious, however, and even as she sweat beneath her cloak, she embraced the feeling. Even with how rough he was being, it was a relief. A nearly pleasurable one and her loud moans spoke as much.
No matter how long they might try to cling to it, however, all moments of reprieve from the monotony and harshness of their exile had to end sooner than they liked. And so, with his head over her shoulder, lips smacking on her neck before they left to groan and moan, he thrust wilder, grinding himself into her until finally he let loose.
Hands and arms almost crushed her in that moment of ecstasy as he unleashed himself inside her again in pleasure. He gave a few sharp little gasps as he came, knees quaking momentarily despite his limb’s strength, until he was utterly spent.
Her arms dug into the rock as her head knocked forward, body arching as he released that final spurt of pleasure. She felt the line of sweat pool along the base of her spine, the cold whipping at her as their bodies slowly cooled and pulled apart, her head dipped between her arms.
Chapter 6
The following weeks passed much the same, almost every day Ara’bor finding some excuse for the pair to be separate from the others, usually heading out onto some task.
Occasionally they would stay at the camp while the other two left, and at the new campsite Ara’bor pulled away from her, breathing heavily after their rutting. He had been true to their silent agreement entirely and more. He’d staked his claim to her, and neither of the other two dared even look at her since, even though both Elin and Ara’bor noticed the tension in the other two bandits rising as the days mounted.
The endless droning monotony of their exile was wearing thin on all.
“I long for a night in an inn,” Ara’bor admitted in a deep, hoarse voice, still warm as he buckled his gear.
She moaned softly as she pulled away from him, clothing herself quickly against the cold. She had warmed to his treatment of her, and the fact that it was so effective in dissuading the other two, but the tension didn’t go unnoticed to her. She felt it too. That deep feeling in her gut, that desire to move on and be rid of them forever.
“I’d do anything to press forward,” she agreed, a bit sullen.
A quiet man even after all this time, he had kept her close, protected her, and seemed to even feel something for her. Their gear shut to the cold, he pulled her close and sank down into their favourite sitting spot. “A single night in an inn, to peel the clothes right off our bodies at last, scrub away the grime an’...” he didn’t say anymore, didn’t even sigh. It didn’t need to be said.
