The Lost Colony

Chapter 43

An area with difficult winds," Jance explained. "We'll reach it the last day before Santi. It's rarely pleasant, but lately, worse."

"Spooky," Sylva added. "All of the lights."

Ost sensed Sparr's confusion. "It's been noticeable the last two crossings. To round the cape you must sail near Horn Island. The winds make it difficult enough, but last time through we passed during the evening hours."

"It was spooky," Sylva repeated. "There were lights and odd noises on the island. Everyone onboard noticed."

"Yes," Jance sighed. "The crew are beginning to talk. I may have to start paying a bonus for night passages."

Wine arrived, and for a time the conversation turned to more prosaic topics. Aine ribbed Sylva about her infatuation with Wyl, Ost griped about the difficulty of finding distributors for his timber, and Jance spoke hopefully about building a new ship. The five were served a stew of game, redolent with what Sparr would have sworn was ginger.

"Who are they?" During a lull in the conversation Sparr prodded Sylva. Trying not to draw attention, he tilted his head toward a group of three passengers in grey robes.

"Circle of the Precipice," she said.

The comment drew Sparr's attention. He'd only heard bits and pieces about the religion. Unlike the Origin, which was thoroughly woven into Kaybe life, the Precipice seemed secretive and remote. "Were they in Caibo spreading the word of their religion?"

Sylva shot him a curious glance. "No," she said, "they mostly keep to themselves. I don't know what they were doing in Caibo."

Sparr took another look. Two men of middle years spoke in low, deferential tones to a child who Sparr guessed to be around age ten. The three were dressed in heavy grey robes which seemed more practical than fashionable, with no sign of ornamentation, symbols, or jewelry. Whether the child was a boy or a girl, he couldn't tell.

Apart from the distraction of the Precipice followers, the evening progressed much as had the one prior. Ost ordered more wine, drinking half the pitcher himself. He quizzed Sparr about his youth, reminisced about his own, and bragged about his daughters. Jance came and went, sometimes pulled away by the ship's business, but always returning to the company of his passengers. Sparr soaked up the evening like a warm bath, relaxing into the comforting embrace of friendship and laughter. He didn't want the night to end.

Regardless, just as he had the night before, Sparr excused himself, checked on Bogg, and returned to his berth to prepare for bed.

"Excuse me, sir. Excuse me, mister Alain."

Sparr turned. "What?"

It was one of the crew, a wiry youth who ran all manner of errands on the ship. He was standing just outside the little door, rocking on his feet uneasily. "I've been sent for you."

"Why?" Sparr asked. "Who sent you?"

Again, the youth looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I can't say, sir. Can you bring your things?"

Warily, Sparr followed the boy to the upper deck. His escort opened a door to one of the cabins. "Here, sir. I was told to say," he hesitated, "that a room became available." The boy fled.

The cabin was definitely an upgrade. In place of the hammock, it had a sizable bed, and instead of a filthy nook to stash his pack, he found a small dresser. There was even a window.

"This had better be worth eighty tokens."

Unsurprised, Sparr turned to find Aine slouching against the door frame. Her eyes swept over his body, grinning with approval.

"Jance would have charged me one hundred fifty more," Sparr said. Like his new friend, he approved of what he saw. Aine had unbuttoned her bodice completely. It hung loose from her shoulders, barely concealing her breasts. A pair of loose pants tied below the knee showcased shapely calves.

"You already spent one night below decks," the brunette said. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "And Jance likes me." In the lamplight her skin practically glowed.

"I like you." Sparr tugged his shirt over his head.

Aine bit her lip suggestively. "You're a strong man, Alain." She took a step toward him.

"I went to gladiator camp this year."

Aine laughed. "A strong man, and an odd one. But, why are you still wearing trousers?"

Something in Aine's hand caught his eye, a glass tube filled with green and blue liquid. "What's that?" he asked.

In response, Aine only placed the object on the cabin's tiny table. "You'll see," she said. "Trousers off."

Sparr complied, pulling off his plain trousers.

"My my," Aine said softly, as if to herself. She reached out a hand to brush Sparr's c**k. "This will be a challenge."

"You're still wearing your bodice," Sparr observed.

"Barely," Aine said. She slipped the garment off, revealing a set of full breasts topped by brown n*****s. Sparr reached to fondle them, and in the blink of an eye, they were kissing.

Aine was responsive and eager, pressing herself against him while her hand again found his c**k. "Yessss," Sparr groaned. He drank in her scent, her touch.

"Mmm, yes," Aine echoed. Her tongue sought his, wetly teasing and exploring. Her hand circled and squeezed his shaft. "Fuuuuuck," she whispered.

Sparr steered her toward the bed. How long had it been since he'd made love? Weeks earlier he'd taken Phia on stage at the Origin Departure ceremony. His orgasm had been explosive, but his awareness twisted by the mind-altering red draught. Prior to that he had done little more than play a role in Liette's fantasies. He longed for the warmth, the mutual longing of two equal partners. Sparr kissed Aine almost frantically.

At the edge of the bed Aine suddenly twisted free. She shoved Sparr playfully, grinning as he fell back on the mattress. "Back," she said, urging him toward the center of the bed. Aine picked up the glass tube. "I like men who can last," she said. "This tube counts twenty minutes." Aine turned the tube upside down, returning it to the table. The blue liquid, which previously had settled to the bottom of the tube, was now on top. As Sparr watched, a single drop of the blue liquid separated lethargically from its kin to slip through the green liquid to the bottom of the tube. Another soon joined it.

"Just twenty minutes?" Sparr said, grinning.

"You say that now," Aine said. She knelt at the end of the bed before leaning forward between Sparr's legs. She was inches from his c**k, her sultry eyes locked on his. "No one lasts ten." She flicked her tongue.

"Mmmm," Sparr groaned. Aine quickly got to work teasing his balls, the first few licks shooting jolts of pleasure through him. Her hair spilled across his thighs.

Aine kept her eyes focused on Sparr's own, judging his reaction. "Your balls are full," she said, pulling back only long enough to make her comment, then resuming.

"Mmm yeah, been a while," Sparr said. He was already completely hard.

"I'll empty them." Aine's tongue slid along the base of his sack then up one ball to his c**k.

"Mhhh," he groaned.

The brunette repeated the move, this time sliding her tongue firmly across his sack. She changed up her strokes, alternating between balls, and mixing in deliciously wet licks across the base and slides.

"f**k, that's nice," Sparr gasped.

"I know," Aine said, smiling. She curled her fingers around the base of his shaft, and as Sparr watched, began to both stroke and lick him.

"Fuh, huhhh." Sparr closed his eyes.

Aine laughed, clearly pleased with his reaction. "I told you no one lasts ten minutes."

Sparr slipped into a near trance, his hips subconsciously grinding his c**k against Aine's hand. Warmth slowly overtook his body, reaching from his balls, to his c**k, and skin. Time lost meaning. He knew nothing but the potent swirl of wet delight delivered by Aine's skilled tongue and lips. Secret pathways carried tendrils of bliss through and across him.

Without warning, Aine pulled back. "Damn," she said, her eyes traveling over Sparr's bulging shaft. She pressed her tongue flat against the side, licking upward to the head. "You're so hard," she said. "The way of the stone, for sure."

Sparr sat half up, reaching for Aine's billowy trousers. "Let's see how wet you are," he said.

"Nope," Aine said, swatting his hand away. "No."

Confused, but happy to let Aine continue, Sparr lay back. The brunette turned, coming at him from the side. She gave his shaft another long, wet lick, then slipped her mouth over the head. Aine was skilled, parting her lips to accommodate first the head, then the fattest portion of Sparr's bulging c**k. She wriggled her lips to wet his shaft, then pulled free.

"Ahh, that's good," Sparr said. "Do it again."

She already was. Aine slid her lips to the same spot she had reached before, this time more swiftly. Again she withdrew, and before Sparr could encourage her, plunged down his shaft yet again. The brunette built toward a steady rhythm.

"Gaaaaawd," he groaned. Aine's hair spilled onto his stomach; her breasts brushed his side. Sparr reached for one.

"Yes," Aine panted, pulling her lips clear of his c**k long enough to offer her own encouragement. "Squeeze it."

He did, first slipping his fingers along the fullest part, then curling them to squeeze and pinch the n****e. He fondled Aine's tender flesh while she greedily sucked as much of his bursting c**k as she could handle. There was no sensation of teeth, and little gagging. The woman knew exactly her limit and rarely tried to exceed it.

"Harder," she said, again pulling free. Several strings of saliva swung from her full lips.

"Squeeze it harder."

Sparr increased his grip, eliciting a muffled groan from Aine. He tightened his fingers, tugging hard.

"You like that," he said, a bit surprised.

"Mmmmph." Aine didn't stop sucking.

Sparr was happy to oblige. Squeezing and groping her yielding flesh was wickedly arousing. Aine was taking his c**k as deep as she could with every stroke, pleasuring him with her velvety lips and tongue. A tear ran from her eye. He settled back, content to accept her attention while groping and tugging her breasts.