“Oh – sweet mother of Jesus – ” Marian yelped and twisted, breaking the soft silence of the forest and the rain pouring down in the dark.
“Shhh!” Djaq paused only briefly to rest her fingers gently against the noble woman’s fevered temple.
Marian shook her head violently, “You try shhh-ing whilst – oh God!”
Djaq, very gently, pressed the thumb of her free hand a little deeper into the soft, moist cleft between Marian’s legs. She laughed, softly, her lips tickling the other woman’s collar bone. “I am not the one making so much noise!”
“And that is hardly my – fault!” Marian squirmed again, gasping as Djaq’s fingers found more previously untouched ground.
“Hush – hush!” Djaq’s murmur felt… almost maternal. She was stroking Marian’s hair with a tenderness that Marian could feel buzzing on the edge of her consciousness – a sense that was unfortunately being drowned beneath a far more urgent need.
“Djaq, so help me, you can either stop telling me to hush and concentrate on what you are doing – or – ” Djaq was back at work faster than Marian could breathe and she yelped once more, “Djaq, for God’s sake, stop that – ”
“That! You keep trying to distract me – Oh my God – ”
“Mmm?” Djaq raised a mischievous eyebrow.
Marian glared at her through a haze of indignant lust, “Djaq – you know what you’re doing – oh…”
“Having fun, my dearest Marian?” Djaq found precisely the spot she had been so diligently seeking out over the past few minutes, and applied just enough manipulation to render Marian (temporarily) speechless.
“Djaq, you are an irritating little Saracen but you are – so very, very talented…” Marian drew breath, eye lashes fluttering in the gloom. The rain was still pattering by just beyond their little hideaway, Marian’s shallow, slightly ragged breathing sounding above it.
Djaq kissed a little beneath Marian’s ear, “I will ignore the part where you called me little and irritating and take that as a compliment – would you hold still? You are not making this any easier.”
Marian rolled her eyes, “Djaq, do you have any idea what you are asking me to do?” She was still gasping for breath, and something desperate and frantic and warm and strange and very, very good was clawing it’s bright, brilliant way out of her soul.
Djaq nudged her, “I just need you to – Marian, in the name of all that is holy, stop squirming!”
“I can’t!” Marian clenched her fists and hissed, “Djaq, has anyone done this to you? Do you know how difficult it is not to move?! That – oh, mother mary!” She shut her eyes tight against a sudden crashing wave of pleasure, struggling because – some part of her wanted to prolong this, here, now, safe and warm and free… beyond anything she could have previously defined, anything she had ever been told about – this was (for all Djaq was infuriating) oddly wonderful.
Djaq was stroking Marian’s hair again, her tone gently admiring, “Hush – you are delightful, Marian – shhh…”
Marian opened her eyes, managing to regain a little composure but still feeling that desperate, clawing need ravaging up from her abdomen, “I will be quite happy to be flattered when you have finished what you are doing – and, so help me, if you do not put your fingers back where they were right now – ”
“You will what? Squirm a little more? That is actually quite becoming – ” Djaq grinned.
“I will go and find Robin and order him to finish the job!” Marian threatened, quite seriously.
“You would not!”
“Put your fingers back – now!”
“Oh, do not get so fussy…” Djaq sighed, patiently, but obeyed.
Marian, however, had promptly forgotten any form of resentment she might previously have harboured towards Djaq for having such power over her, “There – there – just – yes! God, there –”
“Shhh…” Djaq watched, fascinated, as Marian suddenly became completely submerged beneath a layer of something vital and primeval and strangely beautiful – Marian, beyond all reason, stripped down to something hot and pure and true. No boundaries or restrictions – just something sweet, fierce and semi-clothed in the fumbling gloom of Sherwood forest in a thicket, at night, in the rain.
Slowly, shudderingly, Marian drew a breath, finding Djaq’s hand with her own and drawing it away from that sensitive place. For a moment, there was nothing but the rain. And then –
“Do you do this sort of thing often?”
Djaq snorted, “mmm – depends what you mean by… often.”
“Well – I doubt one becomes particularly skilled at anything without practice, Djaq.”
Djaq began to laugh at the ever so slightly possessive sounding note in Marian’s voice – though the edge had been distinctly softened, “do not worry, Marian. I do tend to save myself for… those particular few women of… interest, who I might happen to encounter.”
“You are interesting, Marian.”
“Oddly enough, I seem to recall being called delightful at some point in the recent past.”
Djaq giggled and kissed her warmly, “as you are, my dearest Marian.”
Quiet for a moment, as Marian twitched her toes to stroke Djaq’s ankle and seemed to contemplate the sound of the rain running down on the leaves outside. She pushed herself onto her side, watching Djaq in the dark, her gaze soft and thoughtful.
“You did not answer my question.”
Marian quirked her head, “has anyone done that to you?”
Djaq raised her eyebrows, “why?”
“I am curious,” Marian genuinely sounded it.
Djaq shrugged, a little self consciously, “it takes – some… trust – I… and I have never met anyone who knew how. Not really.”
“You could trust me,” Marian spoke with her eyes closed, sounding more self-assured than she felt. Her voice was hushed and breathy near Djaq’s ear.
“You are in love with Robin, Marian,” Djaq pointed out, gently.
Marian raised her eyebrows in incomprehension, and Djaq saw that she could not – perhaps would not – connect the one action with the other affection. Could not connect this connection with that one. Djaq couldn't blame her – it had taken her quite some time to gather any comprehension as to what these desperate, fleeting encounters might mean. She still wasn’t sure.
“Still,” she continued, quietly, “you do not know how.”
Marian ran a tentative hand up Djaq’s thigh, pausing just short of the waistband of her old, ragged breaches, “then teach me.”
Djaq paused, drew breath, caught Marian’s gaze – intent and curious and hopeful and… so soft, so beautiful – then felt herself grin (if nothing else, this was fun. This was so much fun.) “You are – the word is malak – I cannot find the English…”
“Call me delightful again and I will be perfectly content,” Marian bit her lip and smiled, cool fingers slipping beneath the open hem of Djaq’s shirt, stroking the soft plain of flesh across the Saracen’s abdomen and making her shiver.
Djaq pulled her down and kissed her again, the word delightful lost somewhere between her lips and Marian’s skin.