Reluctantly Rogue Pt. 01 Ch. 009

(Note: This is a long, ongoing story. It is a story with sex. It's a sexy story. It is in many ways a story about sex. But, it is not strictly a sex story. Many chapters may even be SFW.

This chapter, however, is very NSFW!)

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CHAPTER NINE

Threesomes and Hen Houses

Atyr was bounced gently back to half-wakefulness by the rhythmic movement of the bed, and the heavy breathing of his bed mates. All three of his bed mates. His own breath caught, and his eyes popped open. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head to the side, lifting it just barely off the pillow.

The were all pressed together on their sides under the blankets. The two men were panting and grinding their hips in towards the central figure. A woman. She was turned to face him, panting as well, mouth open. Her eyes, also, were open. Wide open, and staring right into his own.

Bleary, and unable to think of anything else to do, he stared back in astonishment. A wild, open-mouthed smile spread slowly across her features, and she put a finger to her lips, urging him to stay quiet. She reached behind the shuddering back of the man in front of her, and tapped Atyr on the nose.

"Keep it down!" she whispered to her two partners, "You're going to wake him!"

The men didn't respond, but their breathing quieted, and their hips ground into her more cautiously. She moaned then, tilting her head back, but never breaking eye contact with Atyr.

The man whose back was to Atyr hissed. "You're going to wake him if you can't keep your luckless mouth shut."

Still staring into Atyr's eyes, the woman answered with a soft moan, "My luckless mouth would be quieter if it was full." She ran a finger down Atyr's cheek. "Maybe if he wakes up he can help you two really fill me."

"You are insatiable!" whispered the man, a husky chuckle to his voice.

The three of them kept grinding into each other, and Atyr realized his own cock was desperately straining, eager to join them. He shut his eyes, blocking out the woman's intoxicating invitation, and rolled over to face away from the trio. They continued for some time, the pace gradually rising, their attempts at stealth becoming ever more halfhearted, until first one, then the other of the men gasped and tensed, and fell still. Atyr was unsure if the woman had come as well, or if she was just lying there, speared from both sides, pulsing with unfulfilled lust.

He tried to ignore his own throbbing arousal, and finally floated back into darkness.

***

Atyr woke early, and slipped out of the bed as quietly as he could, throwing his vest and shirt back on and grabbing his pack. He had a grip on the door handle when he heard the woman's voice calling softly from behind him.

"Sorry. About last night. We weren't expecting a fourth in the room and I... we got carried away."

Atyr froze, but didn't turn to look at her.

"It-- it's fine," he said, still staring at the door. "I've been through weirder the past few days."

"Oh really?" She was speaking barely above a whisper. "Sounds like a good story...?" When Atyr didn't turn around or elaborate, she dropped it. "But really, I am sorry. I assumed a young man like you would be eager, but I... I hope you could at least get some sleep?"

He half turned. Looking at her attractive features now in the morning light, and unable to avoid the vivid memories of last night, Atyr found himself stiffening swiftly in his pants.

"I, uh, yes I did." He saw her gaze drop and then flick back up to meet his eyes, a half smirk on her lips. "I, I really need to go, very busy to with work. Work with, um, with... It was nice meeting you!"

He fled.

Back on the dusty main road through Woodstead, he began to regret his decision to forgo breakfast at Gant's. He hadn't wanted to risk running into his three bedmates down in the main room, but now his stomach was yelling at him. And it wasn't the only thing yelling at him.

"'It was nice meeting you?!" Pesky seemed well and truly outraged. "Meeting you?! That woman was taking it in two holes, and begging you to give it to her in the third, and you just roll over and go to sleep? Then you leave with a 'nice meeting you'?" She was flying backwards in front of his face as he walked. "That's twice in two days I've seen a gorgeous woman basically throw herself at you, only for you to wander away, clueless."

Atyr was ignoring her, both because she was annoying, and also because he still didn't understand the parameters of public conversation with the Sprite. Could others see her? It certainly didn't seem like they could. Would he just look like he was walking down the road arguing with himself about bungled sexual and romantic opportunities? Better to stay silent.

Eventually, the tiny sprite's outburst subsided, and she settled grumpily onto his shoulder with a muttered, "Seriously, I've landed myself the least roguish Rogue imaginable."

The Teggums were a pleasant elderly couple, the sort of people who it seemed must have come into the world already as grandparents. They first forced a hearty breakfast on Atyr, then forced a sizable amount of their family history on him, and then forced a clean set of clothes on him, which had apparently once belonged to one of their three sons. They had been some of Hetim's clothes, they told him, their youngest, who had left for the city of Trael's Tor many years back, and was quite successful there doing something they didn't understand with grain contracts, and was married to a lovely woman, and had had two children with her, both around Atyr's age, and...

They payed him handsomely for the rough chicken coop he erected, a full banner. Atyr had been hoping for a handful of kips, but they wouldn't hear of it, telling him they were old, had plenty of coin, and not many years left to spend it.

The Teggums then forced a large dinner on him, along with more family history, and didn't let him leave until well past darkfall, sending him back to town with seemingly endless goodbyes.

Atyr headed to Gant's place, and paid for meals and a bed for a second night. The sunken-eyed innkeep split the banner meticulously, first counting out fully a pile of twenty-four kips, then taking six for himself for the two nights stay, and handing the remaining eighteen back to Atyr.

Back in the same bed, Atyr found that, to his immense relief, his only roommate this night was a portly, older man, who was snoring viciously as Atryr climbed in beside him. He looked at the small pile of kips in his hand, then tucked them away in his pack. Given the antics of the trio the night before, the old man's snores proved no obstacle to a good night's sleep.

***

After a quick breakfast of bread, water and an egg (Atyr had refused the offered ale), he headed straight to Rehamel's smithy. The blacksmith was just firing the forge as he arrived, and smiled cheerily at Atyr. He was surprised to receive his eight kips so swiftly, and said as much. Atyr looked longingly once more at the saw hanging on the wall, and said his goodbyes.

He wandered the town, jostling the remaining ten kips about in his pocket, and keeping an uncomfortable eye out for any of his three bedmates from two nights past. He purchased provisions that would keep, as well as a few other assorted supplies he'd been wanting.

Just past midday, he found himself out of Woodstead, back on the road, headed into the Brookwood. A half day's travel would put him on track to be at the cabin site by dark the following night.

It had been an utterly disorienting seven days, between Pesky, and the Kelpie, and of course the almost dying, and meeting Bird and hearing her story... And, along with Bird, meeting Kella... He felt a low, uncomfortable something in his stomach at having left town without dropping in at the Birdhouse to give his thanks once more.

He stopped in the middle of the dusty road, feeling the gentle weight of the last solitary kip in his pocket. Next trip to Woodstead, he'd need much more than a kip to pick up any meaningful amount of supplies, and out in the Brookwood, there was nothing to spend it on. He was only a short way out of town, he could, moving swiftly, make it back to town, donate the kip to the Birdhouse funds and still make a good distance before full dark. Surely, that would be a sign of his earnest gratitude?

He looked at the small, brown coin in his hand, flipping it over with his thumb. And then what? Barge dramatically into the Healing House to hand over what was less than a day's pay for even the lowest skilled labourers? Bird and Kella must see a series of patients with various cuts and breaks and fevers and other illness, all day, every day. To think they'd show any interest in his return would be... Well, Bird at least had reasons to be interested, he reminded himself. But Kella would no doubt be absorbed in caring for some other set of patients. He was one of many.

Atyr looked at the coin, and slid it slowly back into his pocket. He frowned, and continued down the road.

It was a length of time before he noticed how quiet, how peaceful, how sprite-free his travel had been. What drew this peace and quiet to his attention was the sound of an angry hum behind him, at first barely a whisper, but rapidly swelling until a full beehive's-worth of aggressive buzzing flew up the road behind him and slammed into the back of his head with the force of-- well, actually, with not very much force at all.

"Leaving town without me?" Pesky zoomed in erratic loops around his face, close enough that her wings battered dryly at his hair and ears.

"Yow, woah, hey hey hey!" Atyr swatted at her. "Calm down, will you? Fates." She settled into an irate buzzing barely a hands breadth in front of his nose, tiny arms crossed. She glared at him. He spread his hands at the little fae woman. "Look, I assumed you were with me?"

"Did you see me with you?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then why would you just assume I knew you were leaving already?" She buzzed angrily forward, pushing ineffectually at his nose. "I assumed you'd be making a farewell visit to your gorgeous mistress at the Healing House. I assumed if I waited there, I would catch you as you left. I assumed-"

Now it was Atyr's turn to cut in. "Why would you assume any of that? I never asked you to come with me. I have only every told you to leave me alone." Ignoring the fact that he'd just been considering a trip back to town to offer his pittance of a donation, he added, "You're the one who pretended I wanted to head back to the Birdhouse. I never said that."

Pesky's angry fluttering in front of his face became slightly calmer. She turned away. "Maybe. But you should have."

"I should have? Ok, you luckless faerie, tell me exactly why I should have!"

The pearlescent little figure looked at him, posture clearly indicating her disbelief. "She touched your cock. You liked it."

Artry mouth dropped open involuntarily. "I, wha-, I absolutely did not--"

Pesky was already zooming down the road ahead of him. He snapped his jaw shut, shook his head, and stalked angrily after her.

The long afternoon passed, and it was well into the gloom before Atyr finally settled himself down in a clearing to the side of the road, laying out his cloak and digging through his pack. It had been a quiet walk, Pesky having disappeared ahead of him, and not having deigned to reappear since.

As he began to pull out some fresh fruit and bread for dinner, she suddenly dropped out of the air, landing cheerfully on his knee.

"Sweet apples, my favorite!" She plopped down and smiled up at him. "Cut me a slice?"

Atyr blinked. "We're not still angry at each other?"

"Angry?" The sprite seemed honestly confused. "Of course not, dummy."

He blinked, shrugged to himself, and asked a different question. "You eat food?"

"I can."

"Do you... have to?"

"If I want to."

Atyr was silent a moment, and decided he didn't want to waste precious interrogation opportunities on the little creature's diet. "So, I still don't understand what this mark means. 'Ranger,' 'Rogue'. What is a subclass? What does "Level 0" mean?"

Hugging the slice of apple to her torso, Pesky looked up from his knee. "I told you. It's your Class. It's how you are. A Ranger. Which is boring." Her wings fluttered in irritation. "But subclass Rogue, which is my favorite!" She hovered up into the air for a moment before settling back down.

"But what is a Class? What do you mean it's 'how I am'?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"What is exactly what you mean?"

"That it's how you are."

Atyr didn't feel particularly enlightened, so he changed tack.

"Ok, so quests. I don't have one? There's... there's nothing I have to do for you now?"

Suddenly very close to his face, a pair of minuscule white eyes stared earnestly into his. "I would like you to go on an adventure."

He looked around in exasperation, "But what does that-- Ok. Ok. You want some kind of adventure--"

"For you."

"For me, right. You want an adventure for me, but, but I'm free to just head back home and get back to work on my cabin?"

Pesky was silent.

"Nothing terrible, nothing... fae will happen to me?"

She shook her head, and said, loftily, "I would never bring harm to my Adventurer."

Atyr nodded slowly. "Ok... Ok. Well, that's what I'm doing then. I'm heading home. I'm building a cabin. Then I'm spending my days there, growing old, and passing it on to my children and grandchildren." He stared intently at her. "Right?"

She shrugged at him. "I'm a sprite, not a seer. Perhaps that is your future." He glared at her, and she shrugged again, turning away with feigned indifference. "Couldn't say."

He continued glaring, but he got no further response. "Ok," he said. "Fair enough. I'm going to finish my dinner, and then roll myself up in my cloak and sleep. I've a solid day's travel tomorrow."

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Thanks so much for reading! Chapter Ten will be out in a couple days. It's an exciting one!

-ScryBells