The Orphan of Saint Olette

Twenty-two

Shay was rid of his clothes in a flurry of movements, and the two joined bodies once more atop the Oracle's meager bed. It was little more than a straw filled mattress and a few linen sheets to try and fight off the cold, but it suited their purpose well enough as they sank onto it, Shay beneath the Oracle again. He expected her to pass comment on the state of his skin, and the patches of differing pigmentation, as that was all women ever seemed to comment on when he finally shed his outer layers, but the Oracle was either too polite to mention it, or she simply did not care. The Olmaean had to admit it was nice not having to explain it mid coitus, for once.

Time seemed to still as they sat there, Shay stretched out on his back and the Oracle propped carefully on his lap, not quite committing herself just yet. She knew she wanted this if it meant her freedom, and Shay had been far more courteous than she had been expecting—she had expected him to tell her to lie back and let him do as he wished with her—but she still found herself hesitating, a sudden sense of uncertainty washing over her. Was this really the right thing? Was this what her freedom was worth? Shay's hands were exploring the planes of her body again, and there was no denying just how divine his touch felt. Shay seemed to notice her hesitation, for he caught one of her hands in his as gently as he had caressed the rest of her, and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft and sweet kiss to it as if the Oracle were some noble Lady. It was only a small action, but it was all the Oracle needed to settle her inner doubts as she shifted in his lap, slowly and cautiously lowering herself down onto the Olmaean's cock.

There was pain and there was blood, both in small measures and both enough to distract Shay from their intentions, but the Oracle insisted she was fine and that they continue. If legend was true, she would feel different afterwards, as if she could feel her powers leaving her. She wasn't sure about feeling her powers leaving her, but she could certainly feel something building within her as she moved her hips. Her actions were fumbled and spoke of her inexperience, but Shay had never seen anyone more confident in their ability. Whether it was an ability to learn, or an ability to drive a man to completion—something she was proving to excel at—he wasn't sure, but she moved her hips with the confidence of the most seasoned whore and Maker preserve him, that only made him want her more. A small, clouded voice of reason in the back of his mind chirped up that this sudden desire to claim the Oracle for his own was little more than lust, but buried deep inside that gorgeous body of hers, Shay couldn't have cared less whether it was love or lust. If anything, he would have been concerned if it was love, for it would ruin his boasts of never having experienced the emotion, romantic or otherwise.

There was no stopping Shay's orgasm, try as he might to hold himself back until the Oracle herself had experience some kind of pleasure. The Oracle didn't mind, though. The young woman regarded it as something of an accomplishment, though in a not so distant future she would discover that pleasing men was easier than it sounded. Still, the Olmaean felt guilty for the pleasure he had received when the Oracle was still wanting, or at least in his mind she was. As she slid from his lap, lying back on the bed beside him, he turned onto his side, pressed another sweet, feverish kiss to her lips and slid a hand between her thighs. Most men didn't think to use more than their cocks on their wives, and their mistresses, but Shay was no nobleman. He was the son of a street whore, and it had given him some tips throughout his life. He would have to thank her for that one day.

They kissed, and Shay's hand worked its magic until the Oracle was a trembling mess beside him, her eyes clenched shut as pleasure unlike anything she had known before washed over her. And when she had reached her climax, and the two of them were drowsy and spent, they found each other's bodies once more, the thin linen sheet pulled over them as they tried to fend off the wisps of wind that fed through the cracks in the Oracle's shack. The sweat was still drying on their skin, adding to the chill biting at the both of them, but for that moment, they simply didn't care. Cold nights weren't quite so icy when you had another body to share it with. Their tangled limbs and shared warmth were enough to make Shay begin to drift into the peaceful land of slumber, but the Oracle's voice cut through his half asleep state and forced him into a state of semi-consciousness.

"Shay, I must confess something," she said, still nestled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder like it was a pillow.

"Confess away," he said sleepily, eyes drifting shut once more.

"When I caught your hand before, I saw something."

One cognac coloured eye flickered open then, the Olmaean glancing at the Oracle from the corner of his vision. If all she needed was skin to skin contact, then Maker only knew what she might have seen during their tumble in the sheets. Virgin or not, they did plenty of touching before anything happened.

"It was only brief, and I was too distracted to follow it, which I am sure you will appreciate," she said, to which Shay nodded. "I saw you. You were just standing there, and a shadow of a crown was following after you."

Shay sat up then, suddenly more awake than he had been previously. "A crown? How close was it?" he asked, fidgeting like he wanted to get out of the bed and make a break for it.

"It was distant, but it looked like it was getting closer."

Much like Shay, the Oracle was no idiot. When one had spent as long as she had discerning the divine and the mysterious, one could not afford to be dimwitted. A crown could only mean the monarchy, and having the monarchy at your back would never end well. She had pegged Shay's accent as an Olmaean one, if only because she had read for an Olmaean woman once before, but a shared city was not a close enough connection to warrant such a vision. It was more than possible that she had seen something far into the future, and if Shay was one of the destined four it would only make sense that the monarchy would take an interest in him—perhaps a knighthood would be in store for him, should they succeed—but it had her concerned all the same.

"I hate to cut this short, but I really need to leave," Shay rushed out, about to rise from the bed but the Oracle's hand caught his wrist.

"Shay, the storm."

He didn't need reminding about that fucking storm, he could hear it raging outside and rattling the boards that comprised the Oracle's home, but the mention of a crown had him skittish, like a deer in anticipation of a hunter's bow. Her touch calmed him, though, and he allowed himself to be pushed back down onto the mattress only somewhat reluctantly. If the kisses being littered across his chest were anything to go by, the Oracle certainly learned fast, and within a few minutes she had relaxed the Olmaean back into his former, half asleep state. She would let him be in the morning, but for that night she wanted him all to herself, and despite that tiny sliver of common sense yelling at him to silence himself, Shay made no secret of the fact that he wouldn't mind keeping her around either.

"You could come with us," he offered, the hand belonging to the arm the Oracle was resting herself upon playing with her hair absently. "You said we need to find a golden city, and if that doesn't sound like some kind of Eastern bullshit then I don't know what does."

The Oracle smiled faintly, pressing another kiss to Shay's chest. "I would rather avoid Aoife's wrath."

"Aoife's wrath? She's a girl, not a wildcat."

"A girl that thinks she is in love with you," the Oracle countered. "A girl that would likely want my head if she were to find out about this, or about that girl in Honeywell."

"Hey," Shay protested, frowning. "You never said you could see backwards."

"I am an Oracle, Shay, I can see all," the Oracle said, trying to keep a straight face.

"You're trying to be funny, and it's not working," Shay said, but he couldn't hold back his own laughter, and soon the two of them had sunken into a giggling mess of limbs and tongues and sugary sweet embraces that lasted through the night and welcomed them into the new day.