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Dawil surveyed the last remains of a decadent dinner, strewn across the table. All ten Silver Swords sat around it, even Rasktooth and Infinitypear, which had taken some doing. The innkeeper still didn’t look pleased with anything but the money he’d extracted in advance.
Plates were being cleared, the common room of the inn slowly emptying out. Anith, Larr, Dasha and Insill were all plotting a night out - one of the bar staff appeared to have eyes for Anith, and had invited the whole group to a party after her shift ended. Rasktooth and Infinitypear declined and headed upstairs to their shared room.
Dawil expressed lukewarm interest. Ylawes and Pekona declined, deep in discussion about the sword the team has recently acquired.
Falene, however, was staring daggers at Ylawes. He and Pekona had been sitting next to each other at meals quite a bit lately. She’d found them in close conversation alone, more than once. And here they were, at a team dinner, heads together, practically whispering in the other’s ear.
A hot stab of anger went through the Half-Elf’s gut. She stood and abruptly spun on her heel and walked upstairs, marching for her room. The whole table stopped to watch her go. She hadn’t even reached the stairs when she began to regret her impulsive exit, but she couldn’t turn back.
It was lucky Falene didn’t turn around, because Ylawes didn’t notice the sudden silence or her absence until he got an elbow in the ribs from Dawil. She would’ve been even more enraged by his clueless expression.
“What’s that about, Dawil? I thought she was getting her mana back? Or something else?” Ylawes asked.
“Lad, I’ll go after her. I don’t think you’d be much help at the moment. And you lot,” Dawil fixed his gaze on the silver-rankers about to go out on what limited town Goisedall had to offer. “Don’t go getting arrested. Insill, you’ve been on the wrong side of a Drake watch. Don’t let them get nicked. The rest of you, listen to Insill. Now get out of here.” He sent them off for their night out, and turned to his clueless Captain. “I’m going after Pointy.” The Dwarf headed for the stairs, leaving Ylawes and Pekona in the common room.
Dawil found Falene in her room, pacing. Her cheeks were pink, eyes too bright when she invited him in. “Dawil I feel like a fool. A foolish idiot.”
“About what?”
“Ylawes and Pekona are already together aren’t they? I’m just the last one to know?”
Dawil suppressed a snort. “What? No. Not a chance.” He shook his head at the idea. “Pekona might be flirting with him, and it’s lost in translation, but I don’t think so.”
“Isn’t she a bit young for him?” Falene was snappish.
“How old do you think Pekona is, Falene? Or the lad for that matter.” Dawil didn’t like where she was going.
“I’m suddenly not sure anymore.” Falene didn’t like the look Dawil gave her.
“She’s 26. Want to hazard a guess at Ylawes?”
“35?”
“Grandfathers, Pointy. I know you’re a half-elf but the lad is 28. We celebrated his birthday.”
“Ah.” Falene’s expression became one of chagrin. “I’m feeling stupid Dawil. And old.”
“Do you want me to bring you a drink before they shut down downstairs?” Dawil asked.
“Dead gods, yes. Wine. I owe you.”
He disappeared back down the stairs.
Dawil found the common room deserted but for a solitary bartender, Ylawes, Pekona and their empty glasses. They were still talking.
“Ylawes, lad, don’t you both sit here forever. They’re trying to clean up for the night.”
Pekona looked around, started gathering her things to leave, and Ylawes nodded. “Dawil, you’re right of course. We should get out of the common room.” He looked about with mild embarrassment.
Dawil went over to the bar, came back with two bottles of wine. “I’ll be going to sort out Pointy then. Don’t worry about her, truly lad.” He gave Pekona a long look. She returned it, with a questioning one of her own. “Well, I’m off. If you want another drink, the two of you, you had better hurry.”
Pekona was off to the bar, and she returned with a bottle of wine. “Don’t you want something?” She waited while he got a bottle of his own, guiltily tipping a bit extra, and followed Ylawes upstairs, he was still animated about mithril. When they reached the door to Ylawes’ room, Pekona walked right in before him. She sat in one of the two chairs, set down her bottle of wine, popped the cork the bartender had loosened for her and poured herself a glass.
Ylawes stilled in the doorway for a moment, watching her. That part of his stomach that he thought should be twisting over his deceit with the Terlands, it still wasn’t twisting. He looked for guilt, and couldn’t find it. A young woman, yes his teammate but this wasn’t Falene, she was in his room. With him, alone, late-ish at night.
A sensible part of him screamed “what will the others think, team dynamics forever ruined, you are a [Knight].” Ylawes was starting to disregard this voice more and more. It had been Pekona’s idea to walk in here in front of him. They were only talking about swords anyway. The lights were on. Silver and steel. He shut the door behind him.
Dawil gave Falene a polite knock, then entered her room again. He held up the two bottles of wine, two glasses. “I can leave you to it if you like. But I have to tell you what I found downstairs.”
She waved him in. “Sit down, let’s have a drink. What now?” She poured two glasses.
“Most of the team have gone out to that party, but I found Pekona and Ylawes still chatting away. Empty common room, one poor bastard of a bartender waiting. I had to tell them to leave. Neither of ‘em had noticed.” Dawil chuckled.
“Too busy flirting with each other?” Falene really did sound jealous now.
“Pointy, easy now. It’s worse than that, I fear.”
“Tree rot. What do you mean, worse?”
Dawil shook his head sagely, “it’s worse. I don’t think either one realizes they’re flirting with the other. Pekona, perhaps. Ylawes certainly doesn’t, the lummox.”
“You’re telling me he’s that… thick?” She was incredulous.
“You know the lad as well as I, nearly. And before you say it, I know women have ended up in his bed during our travels. But. It’s always their idea. Lummox, I tell you.”
Falene poured a second glass of wine.
Ylawes joined Pekona at the small table. There were only two chairs, so he didn’t have many options. He indicated the open bottle of wine. “Mind if I have a glass? Or should I open my own?”
Pekona gave him a small smile. “Have a glass.” He poured. As he was setting the bottle down, Ylawes’ arm brushed Pekona’s. He was astonished at how electric the touch felt.
He looked up from his arm to find Pekona looking right back at him. She didn’t flinch or look away. Ylawes had a sudden feeling of being on display, being assessed or measured somehow, and she surprised him when she put her hand on top of his. Between the touch of her hand, the look in her eyes, Ylawes took a deep breath. He tried to think.
Ylawes hadn’t quite put it all together until now, while Pekona had been building to this for some time - she’d been harboring a crush on her Captain for weeks. She’d been sneaking glances behind his back, looking at little too long at ass while he was walking away, taking any excuse to sit by him. Since he’d stabbed that ghost to save her, her desire to act had accelerated. Finally, she was here. She went for it.
Ylawes have didn’t think for long. He found himself standing, with Pekona in his arms, kissing her. Her arms were around him, her mouth open, kissing him back. He felt the hard nubs of her nipples through his shirt, pressing into his chest. She couldn’t be wearing anything underneath. One hand slid slowly down the powerful muscles of her back, reaching to cup the curve of her ass. The other Ylawes ran through her dark hair. The wine was forgotten.
He kissed her slowly, carefully, and she pushed back at him, moving her hips into his, using her hand to pull him into a deeper kiss with his hair. Ylawes was surprised, excited, aroused. He pulled her in tighter, kissed her deeply. He felt himself stiffen in his pants as Pekona pulled at Ylawes’ shirt. He responded by taking his shirt off, pulling her top over her head, getting hung up, needing a bit of cooperation.
She giggled, just a little, and so did Ylawes. He was distracted by her exposed breasts. He stared at them, small, with large areolae, her nipples standing up, jiggling just a bit with her laugh. He grinned at her and pulled her back in for another kiss, this time he slid both hands down to her ass. She wrapped both legs around him as Ylawes picked Pekona up, still kissing her. He carried her a few steps to the bed, setting her down on the edge.
He bent and began undoing Pekona’s belt, then stripping off her leggings, one leg at a time, her panties coming off with them. “Now your turn,” she said, her voice sounded raspy, excited. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him since Ylawes had removed his shirt.
He released his own belt, let his trousers fall, then stepped out of his shorts. Naked, with an erection, Ylawes stood in front of Pekona. He felt nerves, excitement, lust, fear. He looked at her, sitting on the edge of the bed. Naked, same as he was, but he found her elegant where he felt ungainly. The curve of her lips, her nose, her breasts, her legs, held his gaze. He was all strange angles, awkward in his own body since losing so much weight.
She looked at him, examined him as he had her - tall, pale where he rarely saw the sun, broad shoulders, strong, muscular if thinner than he had been. He had scars and fine blond body hair, calluses on his hands. She looked back up to Ylawes’ face, and found him leaning down to kiss her again.
He bent his head and traced her jawline with kisses, moving to her ear and pulling her earlobe into his mouth. He sucked on it, grazed her with his teeth and felt Pekona gasp. He worked his way down her neck, along her collarbone, hands moving along her ribs, her hips, the outsides of her thighs. She made little noises of pleasure, building to a moan when he took her nipple into his mouth.
Ylawes kept moving, across her stomach, her bellybutton, following the trail of dark hair. He knelt on the floor in front of her, between her knees, spreading her legs wider with hands. He kissed the inside of her thigh, ran his tongue in the sensitive hollow of her hip. Pekona shivered, he felt goosebumps rise under his hands. He leaned forward and buried his face in pussy, pushing with his nose, his tongue, holding her hips with his hands. Pekona’s hand found his hair, gripping it, saying something urgent he couldn't understand. Drathian? She lay back, moaning, pushing her hips against him.
Dawil was on his second glass of wine, Falene her fourth, chatting more intimately than usual, when they heard a clatter from downstairs. Then a second, and a harsh shushing clearly audible through the door.
“Maybe I should go check on that.” Dawil grimaced.
Falene smiled at him. “It is fun to have more teammates, isn’t it?”
He got up, and looked at the bottle of wine in the table. Falene gestured towards it, “come back after you put the kids to bed. Let’s finish that bottle of wine. See if you can round up another?”
“Sure, Pointy, why not,” he answered her, turning toward the door to hide his surprise. Dawil had expected her to use this excuse to tell him to go to his own bed. “Back in minute.” He closed the door behind him and headed down the stairs, wondering what was on Falene’s mind.
The Dwarf was met by Insill trying to herd two of his inebriated friends towards the bottom of the stairs. Dasha and Larr were both worse for wear, stumbling. Insill looked both steady on his feet and annoyed.
“That was quick. Did ya lose one?” Dawil asked?
The innkeeper poked his head out, saw Dawil had the situation in hand and promptly closed the door. Insill didn’t even notice. “I left Anith with the bartender, the one who invited us out. She promised to have him back here before breakfast. And Anith wasn’t a drunken idiot like these hatchlings.” Insill was on a roll. “Dasha had three beers and practically fell over. And she’s a lot to carry!”
Dawil hefted the half-dwarf and pulled her up the first few stairs, Insill following with the more mobile Larr. Falene appeared at the top of the stairs. She had her wand in hand, and soon Dasha and Larr were helped up the stairs and into their respective beds by magic. Insill fell over himself thanking Falene, and went to bed.
Dawil slipped back downstairs in the confusion, and found the innkeeper had poked his head back out into the common room. “Didn’t you lot have one more? I was going to lock up for the night.”
“He’s apparently staying at the party. Promised to be back by breakfast. Could I trouble you for another bottle of wine?”
“I’m locking the doors. Help yourself, I’ll fix your tab in the morning.” He left.
Dawil helped himself and headed up the stairs. He saw a rather bright light under Ylawes’ door. He wondered if the lad and Pekona were still talking about their swords. He turned the knob, the door was unlocked, so he swung the door open.
It wasn’t dark in the room, Dawil could clearly see Ylawes’s blond head between what could only be Pekona’s legs, her darker Drathian complexion a sharp contrast to Ylawes pale one. Dawil pulled the door closed, throwing the lock as he did so. Chuckling to himself, he turned and was careful to knock before he entered Falene’s room with the next bottle of wine and gossip to share.
Ylawes was focused on his task, all he could feel, taste, smell, even hear was only Pekona, even his knees on the hardwood floor were an afterthought. His mouth was busy with her button, tongue swirling, while he slipped his index finger along the lips of her pussy. He traced a slow circle around her opening, just the tip of his finger inside her.
Pekona’s grip on his hair grew tighter, and Ylawes pushed his finger deeper into her. Another low moan, the movement of her hips urgent. He sealed his mouth around her button and began to suck gently. Ylawes withdrew his finger, Pekona’s murmur of disappointment turned into a gasp when both his index and middle finger entered her.
He moved his fingers, exploring, waiting for her reactions, trying to map all the spots she liked in his mind. He flicked her button with his tongue and her hips bucked so hard into him, Ylawes nearly bit his tongue. He pushed harder with his fingers, again and again, until Pekona spasmed on his hand, back arching, holding her breath, her hand pulling his hair, thighs gripping his head. Her climax was demonstrative but nearly silent. Pekona relaxed and fell back on the bed, releasing Ylawes from her legs, gasping.
He came up for air, and looked at her, legs and arms splayed, wet patch soaking into the bedding from between her legs, eyes closed, chest heaving. Ylawes stood as she opened her eyes, met his gaze. Pekona reached out her hand to pull at his shoulder, drawing him towards her as she scooted back towards the middle of the bed.
He followed, scrambling across the bed after her on his hands and knees. She was on her back when Ylawes met her in a kiss. Pekona kissed him back, aggressive, practically jousting with her tongue, wrapping a leg around his ass to pull him closer to her. Ylawes could feel his erection, throbbing against Pekona’s wet pubic hair, her every touch against him sizzled with heat.
“Do you want me to-“ he never finished that thought. Pekona’s hips rose, her fingers dug into the back of his neck, and she growled in his ear. Ylawes wasn’t sure what she said, if it was even words, but she made it clear what she wanted. He used his hand to position himself, pushed the head of his cock into her. Any ideas Ylawes had about starting slowly ended quickly - Pekona was moving against him urgently, and it was all Ylawes could do at first to keep himself from coming immediately.
He tried to breathe, just hold on, while he followed her rhythm, moved with her. Pekona had the reins, Ylawes was happy to be along for the ride. She made small noises of pleasure, whimpers in his ear, he could feel her approaching another orgasm, tightening around his cock. Ylawes rode the edge of his own climax, desperately. Pekona’s whimpers in his ear, the building pressure on his cock, her gasping inhale as she came tipped Ylawes into his own release. A sound between a grunt and a moan left him and he pitched forward onto his elbows, then rolled to his left, lying next to Pekona on the bed, spent. They both fell asleep with the lights on.
Dawil was in Falene’s room for the third time this evening, back in his seat, filling her in on the team’s late night doings. “Anith, according to Insill, is staying with that bartender who started the whole party idea. She promised Insill to have him back here before breakfast.”
Falene raised her eyebrows. “I suppose someone on the team is having a pleasant night of it, at least.”
“One assumes. But Anith isn’t the only one.” Dawil related how he had (mostly) accidentally walked in on Ylawes and Pekona. “On his knees between hers, going to town. I think there’s something in his knightly vow about service to those in need - he might even level!” Dawil thought he was hilarious.
Falene was more thoughtful. “He might. But what about the team? How’s breakfast going to go? Are they a couple?”
“Whoa. Getting a bit ahead of things, eh? Let’s see what they do before we get all mad about it.” Dawil was still wondering what the bee in Falene’s bonnet was.
“Oh I know. I know. I’m realizing how throughly sick I am of considering ramifications and following expectations lately.” Falene said flatly. Dawil tried to parse what she meant, let her continue. “In my home, Gaiil-Drome I mean, they teach you to act like a decision will follow you a century. And it will, there. They live forever there, but never actually have lives. The same breakfast forever, vetting a partner for 30 years.” She trailed off, staring into space.
Dawil asked quietly, “is that why you left?”
“Yes. Most of it. Magic and the world. Losing my magic. Almost starving to death. You reconsider things you never questioned.” She closed her eyes, took a breath. Looking at Dawil now, “I don’t think I’ll be going back. Maybe to visit, but never to live there.”
“I don’t see myself going back to Dwarfhall’s Rest. Like you said, to visit, get some armor or my axe repaired. But not to live. I couldn’t stand it.” Dawil said the last part like he was confessing to a crime. “It’s strange to say out loud.”
“Yes.” Falene was looking Dawil straight in the eyes. “I’ve only just admitted it to myself. I haven’t told anyone else. I can’t imagine anyone but you understanding what I mean.”
Dawil realized she was biting her lip. Waiting for him to say something, probably.
“I haven’t told anyone that either, only you just now. And I knew you’d get it.” He did know that. He liked needling her, but he did trust Falene, even quite like her company while they bickered.
“Do you think teammates could, you know,” she gestured towards the door, “and it be ok. Not romance. Just sex.”
“You’re not still on about Pekona and the lad are you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not exactly.”
Dawil hadn’t seen this coming, not in a thousand years. Falene had drunk the better part of three bottles of wine and kicked off the evening by telling him she felt old and dumb. “Dead gods and grandfathers, I’m your friend. I’m not letting you do this drunk. If this still sounds like a good idea hungover in the light of day, tell me. I’m in. Not tonight.”
He got up to leave, and stopped at the door. “I mean it. Tell me tomorrow and I’d stay.” He closed the door behind him.
Dawil saw the light still on under Ylawes’ door. He shook his head. “Dead gods and grandfathers.” He went to bed, alone. For tonight.