**Pivotal Battle**
He was open for a moment, his weight too far forward, and I struck for his eyes. A stroke like that didn’t need power, it was a flick and a pivot of the blade, licking at the air like a whip. His head snapped back to avoid it, then he lunged forward. I got my blade back into position, but he was too strong. His sword drove my blade back and struck my chest. Links of mail glittered in the air as the blade fell on my chest like a hammer blow. I flew back and struck a tree, everything going white as my head whipped back and struck the bark.
I felt myself sliding down, helpless. I felt him catch the mail shirt as I fell, and pull it over my head. *He was going to find out.* Then he kicked my shoulder, driving me onto my back. There was a long pause, then I felt the fabric tying my breasts down being cut free. The whiteness receded, and I wiggled my toes to prove that I could, but I didn’t open my eyes.
I heard the surprise in his breath. I heard the sigh, a sound or resignation. I knew the sound – it had come from me many times, when I knew I was going to win. It was a sigh of mourning for a worthy foe. I heard the movement of cloth as he shifted stance. Here it comes. Then I curled my hands into the earth, digging my fingers in so I could lunge forward, despite being on my back. The blade cut the air over my shoulder, and I was on him, too close for him to strike with his sword. I landed astride him and drew his knife from his belt.
He saw the danger immediately – the knife was deadlier than a sword, at this distance. He wrestled me for control of the blade, and while he was stronger than I, I had caught him by surprise. And in wrestling, leverage was king. I got an arm behind him, across his shoulder blades, and braced the knife’s hilt against my collarbone, and squeezed, leaning forward to drive my weight into it. Closer and closer to his ribs, the blade crept, until with a buck and a twist of his body, he threw a leg up, and hooked his knee under my throat, driving me back. I tumbled into the grass and scrambled for my blade. I heard the steel of his sword scrape the earth, as he recovered it, and stumbled up to my feet, turning to fight.
Half an hour later, I was heaving and gasping. He had better breath, but he was soaked with sweat. His movements weren’t as fast. His muscles were exhausted, and I was struggling for every gasp. Then he said the unthinkable.
“Truce.”
I looked at him like he’d grown a third head made of cottage cheese. “What did you say?”
“Fifteen minutes. Time to recover. We can’t . . . can’t fight like this.”
“You’ll kill me when I drink.”
“You know me, Kian. Or . . . is it Kaya? You know my reputation.”
I stared at him, but I did indeed know his reputation. A trusted man. His word above all. “I know you, Koval. Word of honor. No hostilities for an hour. We eat, we drink, we rest. Then we find out who’s the best.”
“Agreed.” He dropped the point of his sword, and it took every ounce of control not to rush in at the opening and strike. I trembled, and struggled to step down from the mindset of battle. After what seemed like too long, I sheathed my sword. I went and got my mail shirt off the ground, and looked at it. Not too damaged. In the heat of battle, I’d forgotten I was naked. I pulled the padded undershirt on, then the mail shirt.
I shared with him some of the bread and cheese I carried, and he some of his meat He had enough water for me to put some tea on to brew. We sat, we ate, and we measured each other. His eyes were red from the sweat that dripped into them. He spent too much time blinking to clear them, though. If he wanted me to notice it . . . . when he leaned forward to take a piece of cheese, I saw it. His calf was hesitant, clumsy. He was distracting me from a cramp.
I lifted my eyes to his, examining that startling shade of gold . . . damn. Golden eyes. I blushed, and poured some tea, looking at the fire instead, struggling for anything to say that wasn’t about killing each other. “I have a sister that fights, too. A big sister.”
He blinked, seeming nonplussed. “Oh?”
“I always looked up to her. She’s a soldier, not a warrior, carries a spear. They’d arrest her if they knew. But she inspired me to learn to fight.” My parents had despaired of our fascination with battle. Soldiering was not an occupation for a woman. But they still supported us both, even if they wouldn’t stop telling us to be careful.
“I always thought you might be the only man that could best me.” A wry smile twisted his lips. Goodness, those lips. “It’s ironic to learn, in just this way, that there is no man that can best me.”
I looked up to his eyes again, letting myself get lost in them for a moment. “It is Kaya. You were right.”
He watched me back, and his regard for me seemed to change. I wasn’t sure what had happened in his mind, until I reached forward for a skewer of meat, and noticed his eyes following my chest. Under the padding, there wasn’t much to see . . . but he’d already seen it, anyway. Still, it raised my hackles to see where his mind was at. “What the hell are you looking at?”
I saw the blush on his face, but he didn’t seem embarrassed, or make excuses. He looked right into my eyes and seemed to search them, really see them. “I’m looking at a pretty good looking woman.”
I felt my body heat a little. If he’d known how long I’d admired him, longed to be worthy to fight him . . . but my pride wouldn’t let me take a compliment from the enemy. “Oh great, here it comes. If you think your manly charm is irresistible, Koval, I will split you from crotch to collarbone.”
“It just . . . took me a moment to see through the warrior.” He drank the tea I had prepared and watched me across the fire, his interest clear.
One word struck me, though, resonated within me. Warrior. “You still see me as a warrior first?”
“You are a warrior first. Don’t think it’ll stop me from killing you when we resume our challenge.” He looked up at the moon and stars to check the time. I already knew there wasn’t much left.
Caught between interest verging on desire, and sickened by the idea of seeming weak, I decided that interest would win out, this time. “About that . . . we don’t have to finish that tonight.” I could feel my cheeks burning. He had to see it, even by firelight, at night. I waited for the swagger, for the grin. If he thought he’d conquered me, I’d kill him.
He looked up to watch me. “You want more time? Maybe a night’s sleep?”
I looked at the sleeping bag strapped to his travel pack, trying to formulate a reply. My gaze returned to him, and I bit my lip, unsure if I wanted to take the last step.
“You’re a beautiful woman. I like you, a lot. If you want to–”
As he spoke, I made a snap decision. No way was I letting him take the lead on this. *He* was going to be *my* conquest. I cut him off, leaping across the fire to land on top of him. He was tense until I thrust my lips against his. I didn’t know what to do, but the heat building up in me did. Now that I was on him I needed more, and I pressed my lips to his again. I was clumsy and unsure of myself, but it didn’t stop me from kissing him.
He grabbed my hair gently, and rolled me onto my back. He leaned up from my lips, and he showed me what it meant to be kissed. He held my hair gripped to keep me from forcing myself onto him, and the soft caresses of his lips over mine set my lips on fire, made me whimper with their simple, tender romance. When the tip of his tongue found the tip of mine, I quested for more – his teasing made me tremble with need. Then his fierce passion overwhelmed me, set every emotion on fire until I was clawing at his back. His hungry lips devoured me, his tongue stroking mine, and I felt electric sparks of pleasure shooting straight to the core of me. I whimpered and I moaned, and my hips rose to rub against him.
He’d defeated me. I had no control left, even over myself. There was nothing I could deny him, not in this state.
He sat up, then, stripping my mail shirt off again. This time, he took his time looking at me. I looked aside, and felt my cheeks burning again. Then I felt his hand, cool on my cheek, turning my eyes up to his. His lips touched mine, a gentle reassurance, making me tremble. A kiss can mean so many different things . . . “You are beautiful. You look delicious.”
His hand slid over my breast, and my eyes closed. I moaned, then I cried out as his fingers closed on my nipple, gently twisting it in his fingers. “Ah . . . more!” I couldn’t help myself; the things I were feeling were overwhelming, and I needed to finish this journey. “Please . . . I need you. Now!”
I heaved my body, shaking him enough to roll him on to his back; he would have let me, but I didn’t want to be taken care of. I force him onto his back, and my fingers scrabbled at the stays of his breastplate, tore his shirt off. His hands were on me, too, as my hands slid down his muscular chest to his belt. I unbuckled his belt as I felt my pants sliding loose, shifting my hips to help get rid of them. Then, as I pulled his pants down, he sprang free.
I stared. It was huge. It was beautiful. The rounded tip swept back to a wide crown . . . I reached out, and my fingers curled around his cock, and I caressed it, my fingers stroking over him, learning the shape of him. As my fingers swept the crown of him, he moaned, and his cock throbbed in my hand, practically jumped for attention. “It’s . . . is it going to fit?”
He sat up, and I straddled him now, then he leaned further forward, laying me on my back in the soft grass. His eyes caught mine, that gorgeous gold shining into my eyes. “Do you want to find out?”
I was beginning to have my doubts. “Maybe we shou–” It was a distraction. He held my eyes with his, and as I tried to speak, I felt his fingers cup between my thighs and stroke me. “Ooooh, my god. Again! More. Please!” And he gave me more. Slowly, though, always too slowly. My skin burned and my mind buzzed with need and rising heat, but I needed more, I needed more so badly. I realized that my hips bucked every time he touched me, and I couldn’t stop writhing or moaning. He stared down at me, watching me squirm, and for once in my life, I was content under someone else’s control. Then, I felt a touch from another angle.
I looked up at him, and from the way he loomed over me, I just knew that what was stroking me was the tip of his cock. I needed more so badly, there was so much heat in me. I was afraid, though. It’d been so big . . . it would hurt. It was supposed to hurt. But how would it feel after that? This muscular warrior looming over me, filling me . . . I looked up at him, and nodded. His body moved forward, and something pressed against me, opened me, began filling me. Something tore, and I cried out in pain, then bit my lip to keep silent. I felt his hips against mine, felt fuller than I could imagine. It hurt, but it felt so, so good.
“Are you okay?”
My eyes darted away, as I lied. “It’s fine. It wasn’t much. Just . . . keep going.” I knew what it felt like to be tangled in need, now. He had to be feeling it. I wouldn’t hold him back. He ignored my encouragement, though. I watched his eyes as his hand moved over my breast, plucking at it, leaning to me to kiss my lips. After a little while, I found myself moaning again, and realized that the pain was gone.
Then he began to draw out of me. Had I done something wrong? I was about to plead with him not to stop when I felt him sliding back into me, and whimpered at the stroke of him within me. I convulsively tightened around him as my back arched, and he began picking up speed, his hand sliding over my cheek and caressing. My heart melted at that caress, the moment of tenderness in an otherwise carnal moment.
“Show it to me, Kaya. Everything you feel . . . I want to see it, I want to hear it.” I opened my eyes, finding him staring down at me. I whimpered as he stroked deep inside me again, then, I tried letting my feelings lead my voice, moaning a little louder. Then suddenly my voice was free, and I was crying out to him.
“Koval . . . oh god, Koval! Faster . . . it’s so good . . . I’m getting . . . please, oh Koval, oh god!” I knew I wasn’t making sense, but it didn’t matter. Koval seemed to like it. He moved faster and harder, his pleasure clear on his face. I stared up at his golden eyes as he moaned, as I writhed and ground my hips against him. It was the pleasure in his eyes that set me rising. The words stopped, and I just cried out as my skin began to burn with pleasure.
“Kaya . . . I’m going to . . . come for me, Kaya. I want to feel you come!” The words set something loose inside me, and suddenly my skin burned, every inch of me tingled, my body writhed, my hands clawed at his chest. Then I arched off the ground, a wave of pleasure lifting me with all the force of a lightning strike. I came, and it was unlike anything I’d ever felt. It lifted me, it shook me, it stole my breath. Then I collapsed back onto my back, moaning, writhing underneath him. The pleasure in his eyes was intense, like molten gold, and I felt his cock jump within me, then again over and over as he poured himself into me, groaning with his release.
Then the fires dimmed, and he laid down against my side. His arm lay across my waist, and we tried to catch our breath together.”Damn, woman. You’re fierce. And sensitive as hell, in the best way. And damn, you’re beautiful when you come.”
My cheeks flared in embarrassment again, and at my silence, he looked down at me, then smiled and kissed my brow. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. You were sexy as hell, little firebrand.”
I looked up at her, and I knew he would be able to read the vulnerability in my expression. I didn’t mind, though, and I didn’t fully understand why; but this man was allowed to see that. “You . . . think so?” The words tasted bitter, and I pulled my eyes away. I had never needed anybody else before, to tell me whether I was good enough.”
“You don’t have to take my word for it. I thought I was going to go two rounds with you — set you off twice – but the moment I saw you rising and heard you calling, I couldn’t help myself. You are overwhelmingly sexy.”
I wrapped my arms around him, and pulled him down, pressing my face into his chest, hiding in the hard muscle.
“You know, little lady, we’re supposed to kill each other tomorrow. Think we can maybe take a rain check on that? I’d like to enjoy that more than once before I die.”
I giggled – where the hell did that come from!? – and snuggled into his chest. “Get that sleeping bag off your pack, and a blanket. It’s cold. Then maybe I won’t kill you in the morning.”
He smiled and patted my bottom before he rose. “Sleeping bag it is, my little fighter.” He rose, naked, and I watched him move, admiring him. I curled into the sleeping bag once it was down, and when he slid in to join me, I turned and burrowed into his chest.
‘My fighter’, he’d said. Claiming me. A man marking what’s his. Somehow, I knew he’d never deny me the independence and respect I’d fought for all my life. If it’s this man, I didn’t think I would mind.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/71v2ju/mfcombatfierce_lovinfrom_battle_to_battle