774 - Our square is cross-braced

Skorsas whips his mouth away from me as if he’s been caught in a crime. He blushes as if he’s swapped skins with Kallijas again. Chevenga laughs. I grab Skorsas’s hair with both hands and yank his head back to where I want it, yelling “Nononononononononono DONNNNNN’T STOPPPPPPP AIIIIGGGGGHHH!” Chevenga laughs harder, wiping his eyes; Kallijas is trying hard not to let a grin crack during such a significant moment, but lets it a bit anyway. I wrestle with Skorsas’s head until he says “Ah, fikket,” and dives back into me again.

With the pause, I’ve lost height, but I’m soon rising again. In fact it’s all the more intense for having my omores and my paladin running their eyes over my body appreciatively as the waves of pleasure roll through me, making me arch and toss. Kall glances elsewhere, looking like he wants to sidle away, then back, as if maybe he wants to stay, but isn’t sure what he should do if he stays. Chevenga takes his hand.

“It seems to me we have two choices, love,” he says. “We can either keep watching. Or we can assist in the heightening of their ecstasy. What do you think?”

“Well, um… I guess… em… we could.” Kall is gorgeous in bed as you know, but has the Arkan problem of not being able to talk about it much worse than Skorsas.

“We could do either,” Chevenga says. “And were we to take the more active part, either of us could do either. Else two of us on one, or on the other. And then there’s the question of which of our parts touching which of whose…” He’s looking at me with his quirky grin as he says this. The fahkad shkavi knows kyashin well that I’m trying to hold myself back now, waiting for this.

Skorsas holds up one naked finger to sign to me “Wait just the tiniest teeniest bit!” then lifts his head, says “IhaveanopinionI’llsayinamoment!” while I’m whimpering, then sets his flame-tongue dancing on me again, making me dance on it.

Curse them, I can’t hold back any longer. I come like lightning, like volcanoes, like diving, like dying, like the Earthsphere made of my body shattering, like my bones turning to iron then melting. My omores’s silly-grinning face dissolves then reforms like diamonds and rainbows and sparks of every colour in my eyes. I lie limp and astonished.

He’s laughing again. Skorsas is staring at me pop-eyed, his hand over his mouth. His chin is wet. Ama Kalandris… how in a thousand years could an Arkan, or a thousand Arkans—men or women—ever know that women ejaculate, too? I start laughing. “But, but, but!” he sputters. “I didn’t know that was possible! My little prof—great noble God… can women for women father children with each other?” Chevenga looks like he’s about to fall down laughing. Even Kall is giggling a bit now. He knew about this, of course, because he’s actually had sex with me.

“There’s no seed in it,” says Chevenga. “Ask Kaninjer, he knows all about it. We have other things to do right now, though… what was that opinion you have that you mentioned?”

“Right,” Skorsas says, wiping his lips delicately with the edge of the bed-sheet. “My opinion is that all four of us should cancel whatever commitments we have, giving whatever excuses are necessary, and stay here all day having sex.”

“Chalk,” Kall and I say at the same time. He can skip a day at the School of the Sword. I can tell my teachers to take over at the School of the Wing, splitting my students between them.

It’s just Chevenga who’s hesitating. I know why: sheer mindless mercilessly-ground-in habit. You don’t forget carrying the world on your shoulders that fast.

I watch his face, watch the realization steal over it, lightening his features, smoothing away the creases of strain and worry, turning back the years so he looks more boyish again, a smile sneaking onto his face probably without him even knowing it, like clouds moving off to let through the sun so the whole face of the sea and land gets brighter.

“I have no commitments,” he says.

He throws himself across the bed beside me, head back, arms and legs spread wide. And we are all laughing, almost more with joy than with how funny it is.

Oh Piatsri… what a day it was. For the morning, Chevenga and Kallijas made Skorsas and me the centerpiece always, getting us to take every possible position that a woman-and-man couple can take, while they did various things to enhance our ecstasy. After that it was more free-for-all, like we always had sometimes, except that now the one break in our spars was gone. No one had to carefully or civilly or casually avoid anyone else, or help anyone else do it.

Our square is cross-braced. And always will be, Piatsri! I can’t see us ever going back. Why would we?

I am not in love with Skorsas. Well, I am not in love with Kallijas either, as I am in love with Chevenga. But we can now have sex-between-friends, as they call it in Yeola-e, and ohhhhh what sex. Besides, you know how love is… it can grow. Even like those tiny plants clinging to wind-scraped rock, it can grow. I know he and I feel warm toward each other in a way we never did before. So, you never know.