Chapter 10: Lyra

Nemo was far more shocked than hurt, but maybe that was just the adrenaline talking. He and Lyra’s travels were going so well—they both had agreed to push just a little longer when the sun began to set. Something that a few merchant passersby had explicitly warned against them trying. But it had been a week, and neither Nemo nor Lyra had heard so much as a howl from a wolf after they’d made camp.

So, then, where had they all come from?

“Don’t die on me, Nemo,” Lyra murmured, holding him in her arms. “Stay awake.”

There’d been a half dozen of the canines, at least, barring dripping teeth and glowing yellow eyes. Their growls still echoed in Nemo’s ears, and the first sharp pangs of aching pain reverberated from his chest and leg.

“Lyra—” he murmured. You were amazing, he wanted to say.

“Save it for later. I’ve nearly set everything up,” she interrupted.

Despite her background in healing, she’d wielded a dagger with proficient agility, spinning between the wolves and burying the blade deep into their fur. They’d dropped, one by one, whimpering at her feet. But one had broken her guard, diving straight for Nemo and sinking his teeth into the boy’s leg.

“Rest here.” Lyra laid him out on the makeshift cot, covered in clean linens. She’d single-handedly set their camp in record time, managing to erect the tent, a fire, and the cots in record time. Though Nemo had to admit he may have dipped in and out of consciousness once or twice. Had he really lost so much blood, or maybe it was shock? He didn’t know enough about the healing arts to say.

“All right, raise your arms above your head,” Lyra instructed.

Nemo swallowed, a deep blush rising to his face.

Lyra narrowed her eyes, her lips pulling into a long line. “Nemo. This isn’t the time to be embarrassed.”

He nodded weakly and lifted his arms. Lyra pulled his tunic free of his head.

Now that Lyra was a step away from him, Nemo had a full view of the healer, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away. Her outfit wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen a priestess or cleric wear. Her white top clasped at the throat, then again beneath her chest. In between was a gaping oval, revealing the soft, generous curves of her breasts, which bounced with an intoxicating jiggle as she worked. Her taut stomach was bare, and a thin white band hugged her hips, sewn to two long rectangles of sheer fabric that draped over the front and back of her legs. Black straps embraced her hips, digging into the flesh and connecting to the tiny triangle of white cloth that masked the vulnerability between her legs.

It didn’t matter how much blood Nemo had lost. What remained raced to his groin. I can’t let her see me like this.

Lyra’s brown hair dipped over her shoulder, and her slate-grey eyes slid to his face. “Your skin is on fire. Do you have a fever?” She touched his chest, then his face.

Nemo’s blush deepened. “N-no! I feel fine. Really.”

“That could be a sign of infection. I need to clean your wounds.” She emptied a flask of spring water into a bowl, then dug a vial of sweet-smelling antiseptic from her pack. Holding two long fingers at the vial’s opening, she dripped the thick white liquid onto her fingertips before rubbing it around the bleeding scratch on his chest.

Under another circumstance, she very well could be giving him a massage. The antiseptic was smooth, gliding across his skin like oil. It had a warming effect that simultaneously eased the ache of the wound and made the southern-rushing blood worse.

Nemo imagined her chest coated with the stuff, rubbing against his back while she used a bit more to coax his erect—

No! Stop! You’re just making it worse! Nemo shook his head, trying to focus on the strands of pain throbbing in his leg.

“Your fever’s getting worse,” Lyra said, concern glittering in her eyes. Had she ever looked at him like that? She tended to keep her feelings close and her thoughts closer.

“Lyra, it’s okay—” Nemo murmured.

She moved down to the buckle of his pants. “I need to see your leg. Now.”

Nemo froze, his breath catching in the back of his throat. She’ll see! She couldn’t see how wrong she was—it wasn’t a fever at all. If she got those pants off… “I can take care of it. Really.”

“Just like you took care of the wolves?” Lyra quipped.

Nemo flinched, an entirely different embarrassment overtaking him.

Lyra sighed. “I’m sorry. That was…uncalled for.” She ran a hand through her hair, brushing her bangs away from her face. “This is my fault, and I’m blaming you.”

“It’s not your fault. We couldn’t have known.”

“I ignored every piece of advice given to us.” Lyra fumbled with his belt, then frowned. “If this is what kills you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I-I won’t die,” Nemo reassured. Maybe of embarrassment. “I’ll be f-fine.”

“It bit you on the leg. Come now, Nemo. I need to take these off.” She freed his belt and pulled the strip of leather to the side before working at the fly. “It won’t take me long to clean it.”

Cold thoughts. Glaciers. Ice cream.

Whipped cream on Lyra—

No! Stupid brain!

Lyra undid his pants and tugged them down in one fell swoop with his underwear. Every thought at the forefront of Nemo’s mind was Lyra in precarious situations. There was no hiding his engorged member.

To his surprise, Lyra blushed. But, as she always did, she recovered quickly. “…A fever indeed.” Her already sultry voice dipped lower, caressing his nerves and calling to his desires. She laughed under her breath.

“L-Lyra, I’m sorry.” Nemo covered his face with his hands. She had every right to make fun of him. Here she was, trying to save his life, and he felt hornier than he’d ever experienced in his short lifetime. You know, maybe death would have been better.

Lyra tended to the bite on his leg with more antiseptic, and she hummed a low, slow melody as she did. The wound was high on the thigh—could that dog have bitten him in a worse place?—and the proximity to his cock only made him more anxious.

“The wound isn’t as bad as I thought,” Lyra murmured. “It seems we have a more pressing issue.”

“W-what?” Nemo whispered from behind his hands. He couldn’t bear to look at her.

The sound of her hands in the water rang to his ears, then her nails on the glass vial.

“Well, thankfully, this one isn’t life-threatening. But it’s still one I can assist with.”

Nemo gasped. The warm, viscous liquid coated the head of his shaft, then ran the length of him, cradled in Lyra’s hand. His palms shot from his face to the linens at his sides, his hands gripping the fabric into white-knuckled fists. No. I’m dreaming. She wouldn’t.

“How does that feel?” she asked, tracing the line of his hips with her free hand.

“F-fantastic,” he managed, his mouth dry.

“You know you could have just asked me.” Lyra smiled. She caressed the vein on the underside of his cock with her thumb, then danced her palm across the head. “You should know by now that I like you.”

Nemo’s breathing rasped, and his eyes rolled back. How could anything possibly feel this good? The pain from his wounds subsided, leaving only the pleasure of her touch behind. His thighs and lower back tensed, and his knees quivered.

Her eyebrows raised, and her fingers circled his navel. “No one’s ever touched you like this before, have they?”

“N-no,” he whimpered.

“Well, from now on, ask.” She nodded, resolute. As she studied his face, her smile widened. “I’m available for special requests.”

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“W-what—” do you mean? He’d wanted to ask. But he could hardly breathe. Thoughts were escaping him, and the words weren’t coming.

“Like this.” She released his shaft and moved her fingers to her top. She undid the catch at her throat with a soft click, and her breasts fell free. Hard, pink nipples pointed from their center, and she palmed one in each hand. She crawled on top of him, straddling him at the thighs, then leaned forward and enveloped his cock between her breasts.

“Lyra!” Nemo cried in surprise

“Oh? Should I stop?” Lyra rolled her shoulders forward, arching her back and guiding her chest along his length.

“N-no,” he whispered. Somehow, her chest was softer than it looked. The tight squeeze between malleable pillows made Nemo’s knees quiver. Pre-cum dripped from his tip, mixing with the slick white fluids of the antiseptic. The warming effect was doubled, and he fought for air.

She grinned, and her hair cascaded down her shoulder, tickling the edges of his hips as she moved. “The look on your face is adorable.”

Nemo’s dark bangs fell into his eyes, and he chewed his lower lip, suppressing the moans that threatened to escape him. Who was he hiding them from? They were out in the middle of nowhere. And still, for some reason, he was afraid it would make him seem weak in Lyra’s eyes. “I-it’s…embarrassing…”

“You say, even though you aren’t the one on your knees and using your tits.” Her tongue poked teasingly from her lips. “What will make you stop feeling embarrassed?”

“I-I…I don’t know,” he admitted, trying to keep himself propped up on his elbows. Every nerve in his body quivered, begging for more. Whatever she could do to him, he was gradually opening to the idea. This was already beyond his wildest fantasies.

“How about this?” Lyra bent her neck forward and lapped the pre-cum from his cock. A strained groan hissed between Nemo’s teeth as her mouth descended over him. She moved in tandem with her chest, using the rhythm to guide him into her throat and stroke his shaft with her tongue.

Lyra had been right about one thing—the dual pleasures pushed the last of his embarrassment from his mind. Replaced only by the vision of her chest and mouth bobbing up and down over his cock. An elixir of antiseptic, drool, and pre-cum glimmered on her chest. Her moans of encouragement vibrated against his base.

He never wanted her to stop.

But even as he thought it, the tension building in his groin was overwhelming. Climax threatened with every lap of her tongue and brush of her breasts. Would he be too tired to continue? He didn’t want to finish so quickly.

Lyra didn’t give him an option. Her mouth fervently worked him, pressuring his weakest points as if she’d done this a dozen times. He barely made it ten more heartbeats before the motions of her chest forced him to come. As if she’d anticipated it, she pulled her chest away, dropping her head until her lips met his base. He cried out, slapping one hand over his mouth as his seed poured deep into her throat. With long, satisfied moans, she drank him in, her eyes drifting to lock his gaze.

This…this can’t be real. I must have died.

With trembling fingers, he stroked her hair, brushing the tendrils away from her intense gaze. She felt very real, as did the vertigo that struck him with the release.

She drew away from him, tantalizingly slow, then licked her lips as she glanced at his still-erect shaft. “Still want more, then?”

“Y-you don’t…” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?” Her voice took on a husky rasp, her gaze starving. She licked her lips again.

Was the room spinning? Was it just him? Had the tent ever been this warm? Lyra… “Okay,” he answered, numb. He regretted the word as soon as it left his lips. Could I sound more ridiculous?

Lyra gently touched his nose, a mischievous smile toying at the corners of her mouth. That gaze promised more fulfillment than he could stand. And yet, he desperately wanted to experience more. “Okay? I have your permission?”

“Yes.”

Lyra stroked the bare skin of his chest, careful not to touch his wound. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“N-no! Not at all!” Everything she was doing was the opposite of hurting him. If anything, he’d forgotten how this whole situation had come to fruition in the first place. Really, he wanted to thank the stupid wolves for attacking them. This was so much better than he could imagine. Nemo summoned the last of his courage. “Please…don’t stop?” It was supposed to be more of a request than a question, but his tongue would not cooperate with his brain.

“So polite, little Nemo. We’ll have to work on that.” Lyra reached down to the straps of her panties, snapping one of the black leather threads free with her thumb. The small triangle slid down her thighs, and she took the sheer white fabric with it. She stood for a moment, divesting her top and the rest of her underwear until just her bare skin remained in the dim firelight. A thin sheen of sweat glimmered in the licks of flame, and Nemo drank her in. Catching his gaze, she walked her fingers down her waist. “Do you like what you see?”

“You’re beautiful, Lyra,” Nemo found himself saying. Every curve caught an inch of flame or a lap of moonlight, her pale skin echoing it back as if she were forged from their beauty.

“T-thank you,” Lyra stuttered, then caught herself. “And here I was saying we’ll break you of your politeness.” She brushed her hair back and mounted Nemo at the hips. “This is a good way to start.”

Aligning herself above him, she guided the head of his shaft to her opening. Even before he brushed against her skin, he could feel the heat of her body against his cock. His hands slid to her thighs, gripping them tightly as she lowered her hips around him.

“A-ah!” Nemo couldn’t hide the sounds of bliss that beat in his chest and ripped at his throat. It took every ounce of restraint not to thrust his hips upward and inside of her.

Inch by inch, she sheathed him inside her body. It was a tight, searing fit that couldn’t compare to his hand or even her chest. She was dripping with ecstasy and showed no resistance to his entry.

When Lyra had just past halfway down his length, she paused, her thighs quivering. A deep blush had risen to her face, and she fretted at her lower lip. “You’re…really big, Nemo,” she murmured, the red on her face deepening. “I— I thought, since my mouth—anh!” She twitched her hips, falling further around his cock. Her body tensed, and Nemo’s moans joined hers.

“Deeper. Please,” Nemo murmured. Now that he’d had a taste, his body screamed for more.

“Don’t r-rush me,” she snapped, though the effect was lost when her eyes rolled back. Her hands moved to his chest, her nails drawing lines down his abdomen. She pushed herself down with one more gasping breath until their hips met. “Nngh! That’s so deep!” her voice pitched higher than Nemo had ever heard. The squeal that escaped her was equally as erotic as it was adorable.

“Is it… Are you supposed to b-be so tight?” Nemo asked, his fingertips digging further into her voluptuous thighs.

“Only because you’re h-huge!” Lyra growled, her head tilting forward as she slowly rocked her hips. The slick sounds of their parting and joining urged Nemo to reciprocate. “N-not so hard!”

Nemo paused, terrified he’d done something wrong. “Am I hurting you?”

“No. This is— It’s intense,” she admitted, leaning her cheek to his chest. “Really intense.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes. Keep going,” she urged, kissing his shoulder.

Moving his hands up to her hips, Nemo slowly thrust in and out. In and out. It was such a simple motion, but bright white dots clouded his vision, and his chest and legs tensed with need. Faster. Harder. The same voice that imagined Lyra in so many different scenarios had grown deafening. He found himself losing to it.

“Ah…ha— ah—” Lyra’s staccato squeals sounded every time their hips met.

Dozens of ridges and bumps within her caressed and squeezed his cock, beckoning him back every time he dared pull away. Speed only intensified the sensation. Before he realized it, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck, and her cries were fast and loud, mimicking the greedy rhythm his hips had set for him.

“I’m coming!” Lyra cried, loosening her embrace so that her lips could meet his. She danced her tongue between his teeth, exploring his mouth with the same vigor he used to plunge inside of her.

Her body tensed and convulsed around him, sharply convulsing against his cock and drawing him to orgasm again. Gagged by her kiss, he could let out little more than a hum with his release, his seed pouring inside of her and her body dragging away every drop.

Lyra pulled away from their kiss, staring longingly into Nemo’s eyes. They gasped for air in unison, and she took one hand into hers. As their breathing steadied, she pushed the damp hair away from his face and smiled.

“Your skin is already mending. Perhaps our…present encounter helped.” She touched the wound on his chest. “Next time, though, let’s try this without wolves attacking us, hm?”

Nemo laughed, embarrassed, and covered his eyes with his arm. The image of her naked and straddling him would be in his dreams for a long time. With a sheepish grin, he admitted, “I’d like that.”

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