Ennah

Sentisse, 66 years after the Rise

I throw the cloth I have been using to clean the chestnut fermentation vessel aside. It flows up higher than usual and then makes a sharp turn when gravity takes hold of it, but still drifts to the floor in a slower, more graceful way than I would like. It is so annoying that I can't simply hurl stuff here and there. This does absolutely nothing to release even the slightest bit of the frustration that is raging inside of me, and it doesn't create so much as a gentle breeze to lift the heat that’s announcing that mid-day slumbers are at hand.

Maybe I ought to try some shouting, or break something. Is there another glass window to shatter around here?

Wiping the sweat off my brow, I've already started to look around when a noise comes from outside the shed. Instinctively, I throw myself down and fly behind a barrel.

Trying not to make a peep, my thoughts swirl around the question of who made that sound, or what. Uncle Aniol is pressing this weak’s meager harvest in a barn on the other side of the premises, which will take him at least until midday slumbers — even if he finishes sooner, he’ll probably avoid me. He has done so for the last couple of days, and I don't mind. The only things we've said to one another today have been grim greetings and the chores we were planning on — so we’d know how to avoid each other other. He won't come here.

Are we expecting visitors then? I think Uncle Aniol has canceled all appointments, but I can't be sure.

What if it’s Càgila? I don't think they’d announce their arrival beforehand, but what do I know? Is Damagic still roaming in the North? Uncle Aniol hasn't mentioned it anymore, but then again, he hasn't been to town to hear the latest news. For all we know, Damagic is rolling into Sentisse right now. Càgila might even come here to protect us. Which still means I have to stay out of sight.

Could they really have come here because Damagic has arrived at our doorstep?

But…

How can one be protected against a force like Damagic? Granny's book doesn't even mention it, but it is old, she's said so herself. Maybe— The sound of a cat. Amador!

My sigh of relief relaxes me all the way to my bottom ribs, signaling that I've been holding my breath. I respond with a soft frog-like ribbiting, and a few heartbeats later, I hear Amador's footsteps as he enters the shed. I immediately scramble to my feet, realizing I haven't seen him in over a week. Then, Aunt Carme was still hanging in there, and I was still clutching to feeble hopes.

The lump in my throat comes on quicker than I expected it to, and Amador is already here. I can't hide my emotions from him, and even though he looks quite confounded by my tears, I can't stop myself from running to him, not sure if I even touch the floor or not, and I fling myself into his arms.

“Ennah,” he mutters.

I can't speak for the sobs breaking free from my throat. Amador puts his arms around me, his hand gently — or maybe reluctantly — tapping me on the back. “There, there.” The tapping continues, it almost feels like the basic rhythm of a musical piece my crying is completely out of tune and offbeat from.

“What happened?”

“It's Aunt…” I can't even say it.

“There, there,” Amador mutters again.

I hate it. Hate how I'm sobbing in front of him, reduced to a pile of blubbering nothingness, how all my strength has just left me. I was trying to forcefully throw stuff around a few minutes ago; now it feels like I won't even be able to lift a handkerchief to my face.

“I heard of her passing,” Amador says. “My father was here for the ceremony the day before yesterday.”

“Hm-hm.” I sound like a proper frog now, my throat contorted from crying and not trying to do so at the same time.

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

I let go a little to look at him, to thank him for the kind words even when I can't find any myself. There's a helplessness in his eyes, an uncertainty on how to handle an Ennah that is so broken and lost. When Granny passed, I locked myself in my room for a few weeks, only coming out to do the chores Uncle Aniol couldn’t or wouldn’t do himself — Aunt Carme didn’t ask me anything — and I’d retreat into the dark as soon as I could after. When I saw Amador for the first time as… well, I felt orphaned even when that wasn't the case; my grief had settled just enough to keep my composure when we met. Things quite quickly returned to how they'd been before. Part of it had even become easier because now there was one person less to hide our intimacies from.

But Aunt Carme's death is fresh, and it has opened the wound left by Granny in its entirety.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“It's okay,” Amador assures me. The patting continues, and I'm still offbeat, though maybe just a little less. I allow myself to lean in a bit more, to pull strength from him, to not have to work so hard to keep standing. It helps. His arms around me are comforting, his body a lifeline, his voice soothing, and his presence a necessity I hadn't even known I required that badly.

“I'm sorry,” I mutter. “I didn't mean to… Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” His tone is strange, and I wonder if I placed too much of a burden on him, or if something has been triggered in him too. He never tells me much about his life — we usually let our bodies do the talking — so for all that I know, he has known loss as well. I look at him, my eyes still watery. “Are you alright?”

He swallows. “Of course. Why shouldn't I be?” But his lip trembles just a little, and there's a weariness in his energy that I suddenly feel as if he has pointed it out to me.

“I just…” I start, and then it doesn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is that we're there for each other. That I can comfort him just as he has comforted me, and that I can kiss his slight trembling away. I lay my hand on the side of his face and kiss him. With desperation, with fire, with everything I have.

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If Amador is surprised, he doesn't let it on. He pulls me against him, almost pressing the air out of me, and kisses me back with the same desperate hunger, a need that I want to fill, that I will fill, that I have to fill.

Feverishly, our tongues twine together, gasping breaths and the rustling of fabric the only audible reality around us. I pull on his shirt; he tugs up my dress. Hands and fingers rub and knead my skin that has been starving for his touch, my hands and fingers drinking in the feel of him, every nerve in my body yearning for his closeness. Even skin on skin, he isn't close enough.

“Are we safe here?” he mutters. His hands work on the lace of my dress.

“He's pressing.”

“Cellar?”

It would be better. Though the shed we are in now is relatively safe, the basement is as safe as can be on the vineyard terrain. But I don't care. I need to have him, now. I don't even mind that there's nothing for us to lay on — the cloth I've thrown aside is barely enough to sit on let alone lie down on, but I don't even want to be comfortable. I want to feel everything, to chafe my skin, to feel every pebble and raw patch on the floor. I want to sweat in the heat of midday slumbers, crumple like a raisin, lose myself completely in all kinds of physical discomfort just so I wouldn't have to feel the ache in my very being.

“Kiss me,” I breathe. “Fuck me, as hard as you can.”

Amador gulps. “Ennah?”

I shake my head. No room for talking. I press my lips onto his and lick his lower lip with a ferocity I never even thought myself capable of. I even push away his hands so I can unfasten the lace myself — I know exactly where to yank the chords free.

“Ennah…” he now breathes.

His hand disappears under my skirt, under the bodice that is now roomy around my middle. The touch is warm, heavenly, nowhere near enough. He grabs my breast, and the singe of pain as he finds my nipple and squeezes it hard makes me yelp with torture and delight. This is exactly what I need. Pain and pleasure mixed together to obliterate all else.

Amador pulls me to the floor, the dirty, dusty floor that normally would have me running to the cellar, leaving my dress where it is. All I have to do is raise my arms and I am free. He throws the garment far further than I could ever manage.

“Ennah,” he grunts, burying his face between my breasts and licking the sensitive skin as he makes his way to the nipple that is now rock hard from his squeeze. He fondles the other one with his fingers as he licks and bites the first. A moan emerges from deep within me, rising to the surface like an ancient cry.

I tear at his clothes, claw at him to get him closer, get him naked, get his cock in the only place I need him right now. He lets go of my breasts for just a second to help me get rid of his shorts, and then he pulls away my underwear so fast I wonder if he simply ripped everything off.

I don't care. He could rip my dress or tear up every bit of ribbon that is on it, and I'd only welcome it.

“Come inside me,” I pant.

“Now?” he asks.

For the love of all that runs on the plains, he needs to get a move on. Screw the normal order of things — I almost laugh when the thought pops into my head — but my need to feel him, to have him inside me so I can escape inside him, is too grand. There is no time for fingers and caresses, no time for his usual build-up. Any delay offers too much room to get sucked into my loss, too much risk of drowning in sorrow, too much space for reality to sink in. I pull him on top of me. His warm body weighs heavily and heavenly on me, but his hot cock, though already pressing at my entrance, is still covered by his thin, linen underpants.

I let out a huff and feel ready to rip it to shreds. It takes quite a bit of effort to shove the waistband down and free his rod, only to capture it in my hand and rub my fingers all over its length. He pants, but still doesn't really make the move to enter me and pound me until I see stars.

“Ennah… Just a little more…” he mutters.

“Take me,” I mutter. “Please.” How hard can that be? For the love of all things furry…

Finally, he seems to get what I want. He plunges into me, and I want to scream, scream like I've never done before, like I can't allow myself because Uncle Aniol is not deaf, and probably even stricter now that all his energy leaks away into mourning Aunt Carme. The urge is strong, though. The need to scream, to make my crumbling world cave in even further, to destroy whatever rubble remains now that nothing is right anymore. Maybe I want to be found out, just to have my outside world fully match the mashed-up, shattered world inside of me.

I won't shout. I know that. But something has to be done, something needs to come out. Things need to be turned upside down.

In an instant, I know.

“Amador,” I pant.

“Yes, yes…”

“Get off me.”

“What?” He stops mid-movement, his cock almost entirely buried inside of me, his expression one of pure bewilderment.

“Get off.”

“Ennah… Am I hurting you?”

I push him aside. “No. I just…” I scramble upright, “… need you to…” Now I force him to lay down on his back, “… lay down.”

With just enough awareness not to go hovering over him but keep my knees on the floor, I lift one leg to straddle him.

“Ennah!” His incredulous enthusiasm eggs me on. I take his cock and lower myself onto him. He reaches deeper than he'd ever done, and I throw my head back. This is what I want. To be filled deeply, to really lose myself in our unity, to… To be in charge.

This is something I hadn't thought about.

As Amador sighs deeply beneath me and then grunts something about how wonderful I feel, I realize I'm in control now. Of the tempo, the depth, even where he can put his hands… I take a deep, quivering breath and start moving, wiggling my hips to take him in deeper, raising my bottom to have him slip out just to let myself drop again. I can feel his whole length.

“Feathers…” Amador gasps.

I look at him and bring his hand to one of my breasts. He kneads it, squeezes and massages it, takes my nipple between his fingers and pulls and twists it as I speed up. I lean into him, flexing all the muscles in my belly so he won't push me off him. My ankle bracelets are still on; I feel the diamonds cut into my skin, but now that I'm on my knees, I can feel their Magic having less of a hold on me, and I cannot allow less friction between us, and certainly no more distance.

Then he lifts his other hand to my breast, and all thoughts fall from my mind. His hands are heaven, his cock inside me is hot and big and so, so good. His caresses take my breath away, and his low groans are a testament to the way I make him feel in return, making me bounce even faster. He releases my breasts and grabs my ass, urging me to move even more frantically. The sound of skin slapping skin, almost reminiscent of somebody applauding, is oddly exciting.

He is in so deep that my ultimately sensitive lips hit the fluffs of hair around the base of his cock every time he is buried deep within me, a sensation that is so new and so good that I wish it could just stay there. I try to refrain from getting up again, but his grip on my butt is too firm. Now he has taken control, he bounces me up and down as he pleases, thrusting his hips up and down as well so he can enter me even deeper. I focus on the feeling he gives me when we are closest together, most one, opening myself up to drink that feeling in, to get lost in the sensation of my lips and tender center against his base.

“Ennah…” he breathes. “I'm going to… I need…”

I don't want to hear it. I am so close, so close to experiencing that shattering feeling that is his standard prerogative and my secret, precious rarity.

“Amador… Just a little more…”

“En… No…” he exclaims, still bucking his hips up as if he can't help it. “You're feeling way too…”

And then the sensations lift me so high I shatter. It is like an explosion of light and bubbles and caresses inside me, like dropping down from high up in the clouds and at the same time floating between the stars.

“I'm coming!” Amador squeals. He shoves me aside quite crudely, but I hardly notice it, nor the seed he spills onto the floor and on himself. I am still panting, my body shivering from all it has just released.

“That…” Amador mumbles. “That was amazing.”

I smile and bend over to kiss him. “Yes,” I sigh. We are definitely doing this again soon. I collapse against his shoulder and nod. “Oh, yes.”