1000 Words: Impasse

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Salover gave his traveling companion another loaded look. The fifth of the hour. Kerin didn’t look up from his wood carving. The whistle was coming along.


“You said the pass would be a shortcut. The bounty’s probably halfway across the kingdom by now.”

Kerin’s knife notched another groove. “It is a shortcut though, isn’t it?”

“Sure, aside from the crazed rampaging mage turning the rain into lava and melting everything outside this cave. Aside from that it’s a hop, skip and a jump to New Lidia.”

“Do you think I receive reports regarding crazed mages?”

Salover didn’t have an answer for that. Instead he looked outside of the cave at the eerie orange haze coming up from the pass. They hadn’t had much time before the flames started falling, so they scrambled into a cave (more like a hole) just off of the main path through the pass. Salover hung up his Charm Against Dragon-Fire, tying it up to a jutting rock overhead. It helped a little with the heat and kept out most of the smoke, even if it did occasionally bang against his forehead in the cramped space. Still the raging fires caused by the burning rain had raised the temperature in the cave steadily for the hour or so they’d been trapped. Salover stripped off his bright white tunic and leather vambraces. Kerin shed his cloak and padded jacket.

The plan was that the mage had to tire eventually. Whipping flaming rain out of nothing had to wear on the soul, right? That’s what Kerin suggested anyway, and Salover didn’t want to fight him on that. As a paladin his job was more turning undead, raising shields against iniquity and that sort of thing. Kerin on the other hand, Salover wasn’t exactly sure what he did, but he was effective at it. He was wicked with a knife and tended to disappear on occasion. He was also infuriatingly terse. Salover gave him another glare.

Another hour passed and more clothes littered the ground. Salover’s bare, hairy legs jutted out from under the tunic that he laid across his lap to preserve his modesty. Kerin must have long abandoned modesty, because he stripped entirely bare and sat with his legs curled underneath him on his spread of clothes. His fingers and knife still worked deftly at the whistle. Salover still shot the periodic nasty look, but while doing so had noticed the solid architecture of Kerin’s body. He was lean, but finely muscled and while Salover expected a patchwork of scars on his pale skin, it was smooth and even. Mercenaries with smooth skin were a rarity in the best of times. These were certainly not the best of times.

“You keep looking me over, should I be offended or flattered?” Kerin asked without looking up from his whittling. His hair was plastered onto his face in the sweaty heat of the cave, it ran in tributaries down his back and across his chest. It dripped down his nose. Salover knew he looked the same.

“Neither,” Salover said, then looked away. “Sorry.”

“What’s there to be sorry about? It’s just skin…” Salover heard him put his knife and whistle down, but it wasn’t until he looked over that he realized Kerin had walked over to him. The paladin jumped and almost scrapped his back against the rock wall behind him.

“What are you doing?”

“Got bored whittling.” Kerin’s eyes seemed demonic in the reddish light seeping into the cave. Salover’s mouth sprang.

Kerin’s fat organ was soft and dangling in front of a set of big balls. As Salover sat they were before him at eye level. Just close enough to touch, to draw close. He could smell Kerin’s scent. He was suddenly glad for the tunic across his lap.

“Paladins take oaths,” Salover began explaining.

“Not to bear children. Not to spill their seed.” Kerin’s voice was amused. “The oaths say nothing of using your mouth. Or even…other places.”

“What would you know about our oaths?”

Kerin shrugged. “You’re not the first holy hammer I’ve encountered. You won’t be excommunicated for passing time.”

Salover reached out and touched it decisively, before he could think better of it. It was warm and the skin was soft. He’d never touched one besides his own. He wasn’t sure he’d even seen one outside of quick glances during his residence with the other initiates, but that was years ago. He’d forgotten how excited they could get and Kerin’s got excited very quickly.

Salover wanted, partially, to do as Kerin suggested and put it in his mouth, but that seemed like too much too soon. Instead he used his hand, manipulated the length of it and squeezed it as Kerin whispered encouragements and gentle admonishments when he went too slow or let his grip slacken.

“It’s silly to be doing this now. We could be dead any moment,” Salover said.

“Sounds like the perfect time to me. Live while you’re alive and all that.”

It looks like you’re doing most of the living, Salover almost said, but that was perhaps not entirely true. There was a tent under the tunic on Salover’s lap that spoke to how much he was enjoying himself. He didn’t dare touch it, lest he accidentally bring himself off, but it was a pleasant feeling being openly—well, somewhat openly—aroused.

He jerked Kerin off until he began squirming and staring down at his own dick in Salover’s hand. Salover knew what was coming and tried to disengage, but Kerin grabbed him by the wrist and thrust his hips forward, humping Salover’s hand like a dog.

“Almost,” Kerin eked out. “Almost.”

As it turned out, it wasn’t that bad having someone cum all over you.

It was afterward, when Kerin went back to whittling and Salover was left sitting with a sensitive, painfully hard erection that he became truly irritated. At least he had another reason to glare at the bounty hunter for the rest of the afternoon.

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About the Author

My nom de plume is Benji Bright and I’m an erotica writer. I write the kind of smut that I like to read: hot, whimsical, occasionally thoughtful, and sometimes just plain silly. Outside of writing I’m a film buff, a music lover, and an RPG addict. Also I’m a real person: so feel free to contact me.

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