The Courier ~ A Wank Wednesday Submission

Well, another #WankWednesday has arrived, and with it came the inspiration for a story that feels to me will stretch far beyond this little bit of a tale.  So…enjoy…whet your appetite, and watch out for more another day.  In the meantime, be sure to stop over at Ruby’s place, read the rest of today’s offerings and maybe join in yourself!

A tone sounded.  I leaned forward, pitching my vow low.  “Courier delivery for the madam.”  The partition slid open with a hiss.  I swallowed, steeling my nerves.  I knew I shouldn’t be making this stop, that I should have turned if over to a more. . .partial. . .runner.

I stepped inside and waited.  The serenity of the ambassador’s receiving room wrapped around me, oddly stirring my blood still further.  Grasping for composure I reached for the long instilled methods of my training and began to breathe as in meditation, concentrating on my respiration.

Still, I couldn’t forget the letter tucked in the messenger bag at my hip, nor the one that I’d been bidden to deliver that would have no physical trail to follow.  Of course, my impartiality was the only reason I carried the message that I did.  No one else would have received it.

Or, rather, no physical trail but the sodden fabric between my thighs.

The pendulum in the corner swung, marking off each passing demarcation of time with a graceful sweep.  I resorted to counting them, focusing on the arc.  How many times had I passed slivers of time waiting in the room, or in its counterpart so far away?  My dispatcher could tell me, I was certain.  My trips had gradually increased from once a slivered moon to the current rate; a rate that sent me from one to the other and back with rarely a day’s cushion.

My gaze, turned inward, failed to register the arrival of the ambassador’s wife.  She coughed softly.  I jumped like a scalded cat.  “Shya.”  The sibilant delivery of my name shivered through me.  I bowed.

“A message, my lady.”  My voice emerge ragged.  The heavy tenor of desire ripening it.  I pulled the sealed missive from my bag and handed it to her, my mouth gone dry as the need to deliver the balance of it reemerged.  Her fingers slid against mine as she took her letter.  I watched her hands trembled as she opened it, her eyes drinking in the words inscribed like a woman aching with thirst.  Her color heightened as her eyes tracked to the end, lingered, then returned to read her lover’s words slowly.

I watched her lips form the words.  My stomach coiled and twisted.  “Will you return anon for a response?”  She hadn’t looked back up, her fingers now sliding along the lines of text.  Somewhere I found a blaze of courage and let it drive my feet forward.  She looked up as erased the distance between us, her violet eyes widening.

“I will,” I answered, lifting my hand as I did to cup her jaw.  “But I was bid to deliver something else.”

One of the requirements for classification as a Royal Courier, Nascent Class, is a perfect memory and an inscrutable sense of honor.  I had both.  Though these two customers challenged it.

I kissed her, the memory of the kiss given me playing vividly across my memory.  She stiffened at first then melted at the first slant of my mouth.  She tasted of asha berry and sojuki, the stimulants making my tongue tingle as I teased her with mine.  Her fingers wrapped around my wrists as I cupped her face and poured every bit of the desire fed to me to deliver into her.  She resisted, as I withdrew.  My memory reminded me that I’d resisted the kiss’s cessation as well.  And so I pressed my lips to hers softly once, twice, three times, before stepping back, dropping my hands to my sides and bowing low.  I could feel the heat of arousal in my cheeks, my blood pounding through my flesh.

She caught her breath and turned away as I rose.

“Do you still wish me to return anon, my lady?”  The steadiness of my voice surprised me and I waited, my hands wrapped around the strap of my bag.

Without a look she nodded.  “Please return at the same time on the morrow, Shya, and will have a response ready.”  I bowed again and turned towards the door.  The partition slid open and I stepped out, sagging against the wall as it shut temptation away.

My hands shook, my composure crumbled around me.  And I,  Sya, fourth daughter of the Priestess to the Empire’s Hand, receiver of Vyr’s Star of Honor, once Royal Guard, now Royal Courier, Nascent Class, knew I would return and welcome the temptation again for the chance to deliver another illicit kiss from an ambassador’s wife to a soldier stationed in the Outlands.

6 thoughts on “The Courier ~ A Wank Wednesday Submission

  1. Very skilled use of language to immerse us in this other world quickly. It leaves me thinking about a kiss, the intent of a kiss, the idea of a kiss, its delivery mechanism . . . how often in today’s world we type or say kiss as if the intent can be the kiss itself. Here the medium intercepts emotion, too. Made my head spinny. Brava, beautiful.

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