The Brat(13)
Author: Lynsay Sands

"I put… Oh dear," she murmured as her gaze got caught on the appendage jutting out from between his legs. It hadn’t seemed nearly so large when they’d put him in the bed . .. nor had it been red and angry-looking. She must have really done damage when she’d unintentionally kneed him.

"My lord, you are all swollen and red. I did hurt you," she said with alarm, catching the bobbing member in her hand so she could take a better look. It was difficult to see if she’d done any damage with it waving in front of her face like a priest’s finger during a lecture.

Murie heard him groan as her hand closed around it, and she took this as a sign that he was sore.

"Is it tender?" she asked with concern, glancing up at his face. Balan’s eyes were squeezed shut, but popped open at her question, and he stared down at her with disbelief.

"What?"

"Well, ’tis swollen from the blow you took," she pointed out.

"Blow?" he asked faintly, and she leaned closer and gently blew on him to help ease any stinging she may have caused. His flesh was very warm. Hot, even, as wounds often were.

"Aye. Would you like me to rub it? Would that help, do you think?" she asked, glancing up at him again.

Balan stared down at her incredulously. "Rub it?"

"Aye, as I would a sprained ankle or – " Her explanation became a startled gasp as he suddenly tugged her to her feet. The gasp stopped when he covered her mouth with his, and Murie’s thoughts halted as their bodies came together and he thrust his tongue into her mouth.

Moaning, she let her hands slip up his arms and held on as he kissed her most thoroughly. Truly, these kisses were even better than the ones of the dream. In her dream, her br**sts hadn’t been rubbing across his chest, her n**ples tickled and excited by the small,springy hairs there. And in her dreams, his injured appendage had not been pressing insistently against the apex of her thighs, causing little jolts of excitement to course through her and a heavy, pooling sensation in her lower belly.

Balan’s hands slid down to clasp her behind, and he lifted her suddenly, rubbing her center most aggressively against his injured limb. Murie groaned at the sensations that suddenly rioted through her, but she reluctantly broke the kiss to gasp, "I should look at your wound."

"Later," he muttered, nipping at her chin then kissing her again. Giving up for the moment, Murie followed the urge to wrap her legs around his hips, her feet hooking one over the other for purchase as her arms tightened around his shoulder. She began to kiss him back, her tongue meeting his and slipping into his mouth. The shift allowed his appendage to poke at her most private area, and Murie wiggled tentatively against him, using her h*ps and thighs to do so.

Her movements seemed to affect Balan strongly. Growling deep in his throat, he started to walk to the bed, but then Murie recalled the items in her chest and let her feet unhook, and she dropped away. Caught by surprise, Balan could not stop her from thumping to her feet on the floor.

"I have to get the rabbit’s foot and horseshoe," she explained, trying to race around him.

"What do you want with a horseshoe and a rabbit’s foot?" he asked, sounding a little grumpy. He caught her arm.

Murie turned back to explain, but she paused at the sight of him. He looked quite adorable, with his hair all mussed from her fingers and his lips swollen from her kisses.

"Murie?" he repeated, giving her arm a gentle shake. "What do you need with those items?"

"Oh!" She blinked and smiled. "They are good luck charms said to increase fertility." She tried to tug free of him again, but he wasn’t releasing her.

"Leave them," he ordered, drawing her back against his chest.

"But – "

He silenced her protest with another kiss, this one more determined. When he released her waist to slide his hands up to cup her br**sts, she sighed in defeat and forgot about the charms. She could use them the next time, she assured herself. He’d begun to knead.

When he broke their kiss, she was at first disappointed. But then his mouth dipped down to cover one of her n**ples, which she saw had become swollen and erect as they only did when she was cold. She started to protest, then jerked up onto her tiptoes and cried out with surprise at her body’s response. This was . . . this was . . .

"Oh, husband," she breathed, leaning back to make it easier for him and feeling the edge of the bedside table against her bottom. Balan’s response was to draw on that nipple and then nip it teasingly. His hands slid to her waist and ran lightly over her bottom and hips. Murie found herself twisting first one way and then the other, then thrusting her h*ps forward, her thighs opening slightly as he clasped her bottom.

Balan dropped to his haunches before her, his mouth trailing over the suddenly quivering muscles of her belly and then along the outside of her leg, then drifting to the inside of her knees and urging her legs apart. His mouth moved slowly up along the inside of her thigh.

Murie gasped for breath, little mewling sounds emitting from her lips, her bottom resting more heavily against the bedside table and making it rock as she shuddered and bounced against it. She came to rest fully upon it, however, when he suddenly caught her legs and drew them over his shoulders, burying his face into her center.

Murie cried out and clutched at the edges of the table, her fingers digging into the wood as his tongue ran over the very core of her. This was . .. this was … Oh! This had to be bad. Nothing that felt this good would ever be approved by the church, she was sure.

But as Balan continued to lave and pleasure her, Murie didn’t care what the church thought; she only cared that he didn’t stop, didn’t end this wicked torment. And then it was suddenly too much; she was going to explode, and she wanted him to end it. Panting out a protest, she released the table and grabbed at his head with one hand, her fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair and tugging insistently. Balan ignored her wishes, and instead of stopping, stepped up his actions until Murie gave up trying and grabbed the table again, her h*ps lifting and thrusting of their own accord. She rode the waves he was creating in her. Suddenly she stilled, her whole body pausing, every fiber straining toward something … and then she bucked against him with a scream as the explosion she’d feared arrived, sending her body into convulsions she’d never before experienced.

Murie was not really aware of Balan allowing her legs to slide off his shoulders or his rising before her, though she did instinctively clutch at his arms when he stepped between her legs, but she was completely unprepared when he suddenly drove his swollen appendage into her still-quivering body, filling her as she’d never been filled. She gasped against his ear, her body stiffening around him, and Balan paused, merely holding her for a moment.

"Are you all right?" he asked after several heartbeats. Murie let her breath out and turned stunned eyes to him.

"Aye."

Balan hesitated, then asked, "Does it still hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" she asked with bewilderment, for truly she had no idea what he was talking about. When she recalled that it was supposed to hurt the first time, she blushed. "Oh – nay, my lord husband."

Balan smiled faintly and then withdrew from her body, and Murie found herself clutching at him with her hands and legs around his hips, trying to stop him. Before she could protest, however, he was sliding back into her, and she dropped her head to his shoulder and moaned.

"Pray, do that again," she whispered as he paused once more. Chuckling softly, Balan caught her under the bottom. He lifted her from the table to turn and lay her across the bed, coming down on top of her without their needing to separate.

"Do you like this, wife?" he asked as he withdrew and thrust again.

"Aye," Murie moaned, flattening her feet on the bed and thrusting her h*ps into the action. "I am sure ’tis a sin in the church’s eyes, but aye, my lord, I like it very much."

"So do I," he whispered against her lips, then covered her mouth with his and thrust his tongue into her even as he thrust his h*ps forward once more. The two of them fell silent then but for moans, sighs, groans and growls, working together toward what Murie now knew was a sort of heaven. She cried out again as he took her there once more, but this time he cried out too and went as well.

Murie woke to find herself curled in her new husband’s arms, her body semi-excited once more. It shouldn’t be, she thought sleepily. Her husband had woken her twice in the night, reaching out for her in the dark and covering her mouth with his, even as his body shifted to blanket her. He was a most vigorous lover, and she couldn’t help thinking that the horseshoe and rabbit’s foot may have been efficacious despite not being under the bed. Mayhap just being in the room was enough to have an influence. A tingling in her breast distracted her from such thoughts, and Murie stretched on her side with a little sigh as she became aware of her husband’s hand moving over it. She’d awoken several times to find him cupping her breast in his sleep, but now he was not asleep – or if he was, he was having interesting dreams. His hand was not simply cupping her; it was holding her, lifting, kneading, and his thumb was rubbing back and forth over an already erect nipple.

Murmuring his name, she shifted, pressing her bottom backward into her husband’s groin and smiling as she felt his semi-erect state. The horseshoe and rabbit’s foot were definitely working, she thought with a sigh, reaching back to find and clasp him in her fingers. She’d soon realized that the red, swollen state she’d thought she’d inflicted with her knee had nothing to do with injury, and had quite enjoyed it each time it had occurred. Now she ran her hand down the length of him, encouraging him to return to that state again.

Balan caught her by the chin and turned her head to the side for a deep kiss, then suddenly rolled away from her out of bed. Startled by his sudden abandonment, Murie sat up in bed and watched with amazement as he moved to the basin of cold water from the night before and began to quickly wash himself.

"My lord? Are we not going to … ?" she began uncertainly, then paused and blushed, incapable of giving voice to her expectations.

Balan tossed the damp linen he’d been using to wash himself into the basin, then walked back to bed and leaned on it with his hands to bend down and kiss her on the lips. It was a very quick peck, ending before she could respond. Then he straightened and turned away, saying, "I promised Reginald I would meet him in the bailey this morn to practice at swords. We have neither of us been getting any practice since coming to court."

"Oh." Murie gave a little sigh of disappointment and slid out of bed to move to the now abandoned basin of water and perform some quick ablutions of her own. "Well, Emilie is expecting me this morning as well. So mayhap it is for the best." Balan chuckled and moved up behind her. His leather leggings pressed against the back of her thighs as he wrapped his arms around her, and he kissed the side of her neck.

"I am very pleased with you, wife," he whispered into her ear.

"You are very enthusiastic in your duties, and I like that." Flushing, Murie pushed his arms away and moved over to snatch up the fresh gown Cecily had laid out. She pulled it on over her head and moved to the door, saying a tad stiffly, "Well, I am pleased to hear it. ‘Tis a wife’s place to please her husband." Ignoring his chuckle, she pulled the door open, relieved to find Cecily there, hand raised as if to knock.

"Just in time, Cecily," she said, smiling at the woman. "I will need help with my laces."

"Of course, my lady." The maid followed her into the room as Balan tugged on his cotehardie.

Murie was silent as Cecily worked at the lacings on the back of her gown, her eyes eating up her husband as he finished strapping on his sword and boots. Cecily finished with her lacings and caught up Murie’s surcoat to drop it over her head. When the cloth was pulled down from in front of her face, Murie blinked in surprise to find her husband standing in front of her. He smiled at her expression and bent to kiss her most thoroughly, despite Cecily’s presence, then started for the door, only to pause and swing back. Returning to their bedside, Balan picked up a small dagger there and slid it into his belt, then glanced down and paused, eyes widening with surprise.

"Odd, I thought I had lost this," he said, bending to pick up something from the floor.

Murie glanced curiously at the item. Her eyes widened as she saw it was the cross she’d found in her room the morning after she’d dreamed of Balan. She’d had Cecily set it on the table, but apparently it had gotten knocked off onto the rushes at some point last night. She didn’t have to think hard to guess how.

"Hmm, it must have been caught up in my clothes," he commented, and fastened it around his neck; then he stopped to press another kiss to her now cold lips on his way out of the room.

Murie stared after him, pale and shaken.

"Is that not the cross you found the morning after you dreamt he came to you?" Cecily asked quietly.

"Aye," she breathed.

Cecily was silent for a moment then said, "I did tell you I saw him lurking outside in the hall that night."

"Aye," Murie repeated.

"You do not think he – ?"

"Aye!" Murie cried, and hurried for the door, her only thought that she needed to speak to Emilie. Her friend would know what she should do. She always knew what to do. She would help fix this.

"Slow down," Emilie said with concern moments later when Murie burst into her room and babbled a stream of nonsense.

"Tell me slowly. I do not understand. Balan found a cross in your room?"

"Aye. Nay. Aye, but…" She paused with frustration, took a deep breath to calm herself, then started again. "I found a cross in my room the morning after the dream. I thought nothing of it at the time. I did not know whom it belonged to, but thought perhaps it had fallen from someone’s throat in the hall and gotten caught in my skirt and fallen off by the bed as I disrobed … or perhaps a servant had lost it while cleaning the room."

"Aye," Emilie said patiently. "I understand."