"You please me, immensely, J'oran, son of Marlduke, prince of the riders.", said Selene who sat straddled atop him, feeling the waning pulse of his manhood as it slipped slowly out of the warmth of of her womanliness.
She went on to say, "You are the best lover, I do know, but then you're the only lover I've known."
J'oran ran his hands down Selene's sides, running the backside of his fingers down to her hips, before turning them over to get a good grip on her flesh, squeezing firmly, then relaxing his hold as he scanned her naked fruits in the candlelight. He had loved her since he first eyed her in the traders market and paid handsomely for her.
He spoke soft to her now, "I have been trained by the ladies of my fathers court. I can show you ...."
"Spare me. Another time, perhaps.", Selene cut him off, a little sharper than she had intended.
Sliding off of him, she made her way to the edge of the bed and stood on the mat laid on the floor of the tent.
She turned back and gazed upon him only for a moment, observing that he was struggling with something caught in his throat, he paused long enough to smile at her.
Picking up her clothes, Selene began to dress. J'oran looked disappointed to see the brown half dollar areolas disappear beneath the linen.
She thought to herself, "ladies of the court, indeed." She knew of his frequent trip to the brothels.
Quipping sardonically, she sighed and blurted aloud, "You really know how to flatter a lady."
With more harshness in her voice, she queried in a half whisper, "Did the dear ladies teach you that, as well?"
J'oran said nothing, but was rubbing his throat and trying to clear it with more vigor.
Selene poured some water from the ornamental vase and offered him the drink, then continued, with a much more gentle tone, "My brother, Qen, is holding his wedding ceremony, he's loved her his whole life, and I am here on this accursed battlefield."
J'oran took a big swallow of the water then set the cup down on the small elm wood bedstand. That seemed to do the trick, his cough had now subsided.
He was a little stern when he had told her, at last, "Your place is here with me. Custom demands it. We can just arrange another ceremony for them, if you wish, after the war is ended. He can make oath to her twice in one lifetime."
Selene smiled with a far away look on her countenance. She spoke to him as if she were miles away, "He would gladly make oaths to her for his entire lifetime. But, as for me? There is only one oath I honor, tonight."
"You have honored it well.", beamed J'oran from ear to ear.
"I wonder if you shall always think so.", Selene pondered, as if to herself.
J'oran tried to understand, but he struggled with it and asked, "How is it I could think any less of such a lover and wife, as yourself?"
Selene looked at him sharply and said, "We'll see." J'oran put his hands to his head, cupping his skull. Selene asked him, "Did you have to make war so late in the fall?"
J'oran lowered his hands and shook as if shaking off a cold draft, adjusted his eyes a bit and remarked, "Perhaps, some of my wounded men would have preferred to have died of their injuries in the biting freeze of winters embrace where they could surely just shiver, hog wild and uncontrollably, as they bled to to their deaths."
"Spring, perhaps?", Selene retorted, as if oblivious of his soldiers sufferings.
J'oran did not like her cold, quick and sudden dismissiveness and he darkly grumbled back, "Next time the enemy invades I will have them check with your schedule."
J'oran was so upset he flew into a raging fit of coughs. As fast as they had come, the coughs subsided, once more, but he had, very soon, found himself both unable to move or speak.
"Actually, they already have. I assured them I could poison your drink before you bedded me.", she laughed, "Next time that you take a wife from among the slaves, make sure your father's mercenaries didn't kill hers."
She reflected a moment and giggled some more, "Did I say next time? Why, how silly of me." Then Selene kissed J'orans cheek and headed for the tent entrance, saying, "As much as I'd like to watch your eyes roll back into your arrogant, thick head, in a few moments, and seeing your gorgeous, fine, sculpted young body convulsing, you'll simply have to forgive me if I don't stay. Your father, the old wretch, won't be pleased and I've much to live for. You will have such a marvelous funeral. It's quite a shame I will have to miss it." Then, almost as if an afterthought, "Do say hello to my departed father when you see him, won't you?"
With that, together they slipped into the waiting darkness.
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