54 - A Triangular Bruise

The remaining flock of chicks were settled in a heap in the middle of their pen around a heating bucket. Dag wasn’t quite sure how it worked without poisoning the air, but you scooped some of this variety of toxic sand into the bucket, added a half scoop of that colour, added a bit of water, screwed the lid on loosely and shook it up.

It almost immediately began to warm up, drawing the chicks from the far corners of the cavern, as it got colder and colder outside once the sun was down.

The supply woman had gone to her home after the sundown feeding, setting up the morning meat and meat-worm buckets for their sunrise meal, winking at Dag when Yasna had stayed behind.  He blandly spooned another knob of butter into his tea, stirring, his smile visible behind his veil.

“I’m glad you could stay tonight.”

“I have one new client a few days from now, so I don't have to rush back.  Since the Sunrise Loggia took Basserus down there have been a lot fewer ‘unhooked in time’ illnesses... or ‘lung-clot’.” He reached out a hand and stroked a strand of hair out of her face.  “The two illnesses seem to be linked.”

“Oh.” She leaned into his touch.  “Why don’t you just bring the tea and come to bed?”

“Dag... I’ve missed you.  But I just want to hold you first.  You’ve been away so long its like I need to feel that you’re real again.”

She laughed.  “I’m real.  I’m solid.” They both got up, fingers laced together, teacups in their other hands.

The cold night wind blew through the slot and warmed up over the flock, ruffling the mound of feathers.  Red eyes opened, then closed, as the door to the chick-tender’s bedroom closed behind Yasna and Dag.

All except one. The fluffy, gangly neck of Dag’s chick rose out of the pile and fixed beady eyes on the closed door.  The chicks had found out that the bedroom door didn’t have the best latch in the world, and sometimes the flock pushed in to sleep on the attendant, rather than their hot bucket. The chick cheeped then pecked another in the heap.  It hissed but followed along as the two of them scrambled out of the warm featherpile and staggered over to the door, nibbling along the bottom and the one edge under the doorknob.

**

Yasna set his tea down on the shelf by the door as it closed, held out his hand for Dag’s cup.  She smiled and sipped once more before she gave it to him.

“Agh, DAG... I MISS you!”

She seized his hands as he turned toward her, lifted her hand and pulled his veil down, bit his exposed lower lip.

“Ah!” But he smiled and his kiss back was full of passion and want and need.  She caught him with both hands on either side of his sarband.

“Wait! Wait, Dag... oh endarkened...” she’d plunged her hands down the waistband of his trousers and he stood, electrified, shaking...

“I’ve missed you and I’ve wanted you,” she said, hauling him close.  “Quit trying to be so gentle!”

“Dag, Dag... wait! Oh Enlightened oh enlightened oh oh oh!”

She had her hands in his trousers, was so slick between her legs, wanting him. Missing him. He picked her up off the floor, held her close.  “Take the trousers off, then, Dag.  Take everything off.”  He hobbled to the bed, his clothing already fallen around his ankles and he kicked his pants off into a corner.  She laughed and stripped his shirt off and his sarband, even as he tipped them over into her bed.

“I thought we were too old for this!” She gasped, caught her lower lip in her teeth, then grabbed him by his ears and thrust her tongue into his mouth.

“Oh, endarkened!” It was almost a shriek as she grasped hold of him and they slid together, practiced.  He yelped as she dragged him into herself and froze, gasping, trying to keep some kind of control when she bucked under him and he tumbled into mere feeling.

“AAAAAAAAAGH!” He shrieked and leaped straight up off her, curled around to face the foot of the bed, plastered against the headboard, hands upheld, then cupped around the injury.

Dag sat up, confused.  She looked from the two chick beaks, bobbing and weaving at the end of the bed, the opened door, Yasna’s hands protectively cupped around his buttocks.  “Did they bite you?”

“Um. Er. Um. I... I... I’m bruised I think...”

She brushed that off and directed him over onto his face, inspecting.  “Oh dear....”

“What?”

“You’ll have one enlightened bruise on one cheek, Yasna.”

“Ow,” he said mildly, given the circumstances, rubbing one cheek.  “I’ll have a bruise that I cannot sit on for more than a week!”

She giggled, folding him in her arms.  “Yasna!  Yas!  It’s just a chick.”

He snorted, one hand still rubbing his back.  “We aren’t going to be keeping these as pets now, are we?”

“That’s up to His Radiance.”  She checked his back.  “They didn’t even break skin, even with their razor beaks... it’s fine.”

“Fine.”  He snorted.  “I’m shoving a trunk against the door, all right?”

“I’m fine with that,” she said.

He shooed the warchicks out with a flapping night-robe and barred the door with a ceramic pot, toed hard against the wood.  Then, naked, turned back to Dag.  She had to giggle but opened her arms to him.  “Let me help the bruised warrior!”