Twisted Smut 9 – Mortalis Ludicrum {Mortalis Fun}

Tazio’s feet throbbed with every step through the snow and slush. His shoes weren’t good enough to keep out the damp, but just barely good enough to keep his feet from growing numb, so he got to experience every freezing and wet footstep. The wind at his back occasionally whipped round to slap him in the face, all the sharper for how unpredictable it was. Flakes of the falling snow managed to find their way down the neck of his shirt and in between his scarf and face no matter how he adjusted his worn coat, and his legs ached due to the long walk from the city’s walls.

Being back in Milia made him so happy he felt like whistling.

The straps on his pack were heavy, but any time his shoulder began to ache Tazio would think of just how much money was contained within and switch it to the other with a jaunty motion. He was a big man, his broad tan shoulders burly and muscular, so he wasn’t worried about attracting attention, even though he was carrying so much money so late at night. Besides, it was only a few more streets before he’d reached Cicily’s house.

What exactly would she be doing at this hour? Perhaps she’d be getting ready for bed, slipping out of her day clothes and into her old white cotton nightdress. She hated that dress, said it made her seem like an old woman, but then she couldn’t see how well the white cotton hugged the curve of her backside, or how when she bent over the hem of it hiked up to show off her pretty legs. That nightdress would show off her body even when she was an old woman, and he didn’t think he would ever get tired of pulling it off her.

Or maybe she wasn’t wearing the nightdress at all! Sure it was late winter, but perhaps she had stoked a fire that made the room warm enough to sleep naked, and when he arrived he’d find her between the sheets and-

Tazio shook his head clear of the image. It had been a long, long journey, and unlike his companions on the road, he hadn’t availed himself of the many brothels that had littered it. Idle fantasies had occupied his nights for months now, but it seemed lately as every single thought that passed through his mind led to some mental someone naked and willing.

“Not long now, just a few more streets,” he muttered to himself, “your perverted thoughts can wait for a few minutes longer. It’s about time you came home, you’re starting to lose your grip on sanity.” After a few more quiet footsteps through the snow he chuckled. “Warning myself I’m losing my grip while talking to myself out loud, that’s worrisome. What do I think I am, a Stormtouched?”

When he reached the corner of his street his musings were cut short by a commotion; a pack of young adults burst around the corner at a run. They looked grim and focused, some of them in grey masks and hoods, and some of them carried clubs or staves.

Studio kids, Tazio thought , pausing and waiting for them to pass by in front of him. Stormtouched, by the looks of it. You could always identify the Stormtouched kids running in groups, since they left spaces in between them. Had a thing about their personal space. Not very good with their observational skills though, he thought, as a blonde studio kid narrowly missed him. Of course I should talk, I’m usually not very good about observing my surround-

The studio kid crashed into him so hard it sent them both sprawling in the snow. Tazio coughed as the wind was knocked out of him, the full weight of the masked figure on top of him. The figure was hooded, a grey mask covering her face, but it was obvious from the bits of her currently pressing into him that she was a girl.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” the girl made a floundering motion in an attempt to get off of him, but only served to push her warm little body against him in ways that were decidedly distracting.

“Quite alright kid,” he said cheerfully, “no harm done.”

Quite the opposite, in fact, he thought as the girl scrambled off of him. He reached out and picked up the hammer she had dropped, offering it to her handle-first.

“Thanks, I’m going to need that tonight,” the girl accepted the hammer and rose. Something about the way she held herself, as if gearing up to do something terrible, made Tazio slightly uncomfortable.

“Seems a little rough, doesn’t it?” Tazio noted, getting to his feet. “Pounding on someone with a hammer like that?”

“Some people deserve a good pounding, and they’re gonna get it tonight,” the girl said. Tazio laughed appreciatively, but stopped when she tilted her head at him, confused. After a few moments of awkward silence

She has no idea what she just said. He thought as he watched the girl scamper away with the rest of her squad. Is it just me? Has it been so long that everything sounds dirty?

The thought of what waited for him at the house combined with the recent memory of the little Storm girl quickened Tazio footsteps for the scarce few streets that were left in his journey. When he saw the small house halfway down the street, he broke into a jog, grinning as he closed the distance to the door. The house was tiny and run down, and the door rattled on its hinges when he knocked, but Tazio felt more at home here than anywhere else in the world. His heart pounding and a grin on his face, he knocked again.

 

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The fire that crackled and popped in the grate was enough to warm the entire house; one of the benefits of having a house of just one room. So many of her friends and her family seemed despondent about being poor, but Cicily was never much bothered by it. Perhaps it was because of how much love she had in her life, but material possessions had never meant much to her.

Cicily stirred the stew and pulled it away from the flame, humming softly to herself. That done, she looked around the room for something else to do. She had managed to stay busy all day to distract herself from the burning need just below her belly, but after a day of cleaning and dusting, cooking and washing, she had run herself out of housework to do. The clock that hung above the fire showed another two hours until Siricio returned from work, and he would want to eat before he actually got down to finishing the business he had started this morning. Cicily ground her teeth in frustration.

Mind over matter, Cicily scolded herself, picking her book up from the bedside stand and planting herself down firmly at the table. I can wait until Siricio gets home, I don’t have to take care of myself, he’ll take care of me even better.

The book was a cheap romance about an ancient egyptian prince and his torrid affair with a priestess, and for keeping her mind off of the yearnings she felt it was a horrible choice. Or at least, it would’ve been had she been able to keep her mind on reading it. After three readings of the same page, it occurred to her that she hadn’t absorbed a word of it, and that her nervous fingers were moving in gentle absent-minded circles higher and higher up her own leg.

With a frustrated sigh she closed the book and buried her head in her hands, running her fingers through her red hair.

Come on, this is pathetic. If I couldn’t even last a whole day without some satisfaction, how sad would that be? She asked herself, casting a longing look at the overwide bed that sat in the corner. I wonder if Siricio came home and I was waiting naked for him, touching myself, if he would attend to me before he ate supper…

The knock on the door made her heart jump into her throat. It was heavy and distinctive, but Tazio would’ve written if he’d expected to come back to Milia. When she threw open the door and saw him standing there, damp with snow and grinning from ear to ear, she felt as if her heart would burst.

“Tazio!” she cried, and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a long kiss on his lips.

“Easy there, woman,” Tazio chuckled quietly with a glance over either shoulder, “let me at least get inside first, your neighbors will gossip.”

“When did you get back in Milia?” She let go of him only long enough to pull him inside and close the door behind them, then she pounced again, kissing his neck and cheeks, holding him close enough that she could feel his heartbeat pound against her.

“Sold all of our merchandise a week early, and managed to catch a ride with a shepherd who was headed Milian bound, straight through from Lacris. No point in sending a letter when I’d get here along with it. Sanctus raucus, woman, you’re all hands and kisses tonight.”

Cicily had been feeling up the heavy muscles of his back, but at his words she reached down to grab at his backside with a grin, planting one more kiss on his forehead for good measure.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” she said, “I can tell that you’d be lying.” She ground her hips against the bulge in his pants to prove her point, and was rewarded with a rumble deep in Tazio’s chest.

“I’d be lying,” he said, moving forward suddenly to push her against the door. His breath smelled of mint and sweetbread, and the weight of his body pinning her to the door was enough to make her lightheaded. “Do you know how many nights your naked body has been in my dreams these past few months?”

“All of them, I hope,” Cicily breathed.

“Every last solitaria one,” Tazio said.

“Sounds like you’ve had a hard time of it.”

“You can feel just how hard.”

“And yet our clothes are still on.”

“I was being polite and giving you about five seconds to choose if you want to be bent over that table or thrown onto the bed.”

“Or what?” she challenged, giddy and breathless.

“Or you’ll have chosen ‘up against the door, then bent over the table or thrown onto the bed’.” Sure enough, his hands were at her waist now, slipping beneath her shirt to slide along the skin of her back, crushing her even closer to him. One hand slipped lower, beneath the hem of her underclothes and cupping her rear.

“S…S…Stew,” she managed to say.

“Stew?”

“You heard me,” lightheaded as she may have been feeling, Cicily gave him a little push and pointed towards the fire. “If you’ve come straight from Lacris that means you haven’t eaten since early yesterday.”

“Deus condemno, Cicily, it’s not food I’m hungry for,” Tazio growled, but he obligingly stepped away and gave her a chance to breathe.

“I’m not about to take you to bed only for you to pass out on top of me,” the heat of his body made her flushed, and her sex ached at the promise of his rough but gentle hands against it, but she forced herself to ignore it, serving him up a bowl of the stew and sitting down across the table from him. She felt a little bit better when she saw the way he tore into the bowl; she had been right about needing food. She felt better still when she realized that as soon as he was done eating, he would probably tear into her with just as much gusto. After all, he had only been without food for a day, he had been without her for months.

“Where’s Siricio?” Tazio mumbled through a biteful of stew.

“He’s had to work late every day of this week,” Cicily complained, “I barely see him, he’s exhausted when he comes home, and this morning he decided he was going to tease me mercilessly before he had to leave.”

“And that’s why you’re teasing me now,” Tazio said around another bite, “making me pay for his transgressions.”

“I would never do such a thing!” Cicily protested, leaning further over the table so that he had a better view of the slope of her breasts down the front of her shirt.

“Jesu, to get you this wound up he must’ve teased you to the breaking point.”

“It was so cruel,” Cicily said with gusto, “he woke me up with his tongue, soft little licks along my inner thigh, light enough to wake me but nowhere near as satisfying as I needed. Then when he felt me moving and knew I was awake, he started very gently kissing higher and higher, until his lips hovered around my cunt…just hovered, close enough that I could feel him there but not close enough…” she enjoyed what her recounting of the tale was doing to Tazio, eating the stew hungrily but watching her even more hungrily. “And then, slowly, slowly he started blowing my clit, not even licking it, just blowing and giving me the tiniest, featheriest, meanest possible sensations ever.”

“And that felt good?” Tazio asked. “Wouldn’t have thought to do that.”

“Teasing isn’t your style, Tazio,” Cicily tried to pur, but it just came out a throaty whisper, “you’re more the type to pound me until I’m sore.”

He stood, kicking the chair back. It was almost frightening, the way he towered over her, made her feel so small with his muscles and bulk, the way his eyes raked over her greedily. She was already wet from revisiting the memory of the morning; the way he was looking at her made her feel as if she might catch fire.

“Finished eating,” he said tersely, holding out a hand to her.

“That’s good. Now we should get those damp clothes off and hang them by the fire,” it was very hard to tease him when her whole body wanted him on top of her. She put her hand in his, trying not to think “Carefully and gingerly, of course. It might take some time, but we wouldn’t want you without dry clothes now would w-”

“Fuck that,” Tazio growled, pulling her around the table and into his arms with one strong motion. Cicily wanted to growl right back at him, but before she could make a sound he had lifted her up and tossed her onto the bed. Strong hands ripped her shirt off over her head, and he was on top of her on the bed, his lips pressed against hers again. She arched her back so that her body pressed against him, moaning into his mouth. One of his hands kneaded at her bare breast, the other was yanking her skirts up, pulling at the cotton underclothes she wore. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t want him to be gentle; she wanted him rough and brutal and now.

Tazio didn’t wait to get the rest of her clothes off, he pulled his length out and paused just long enough to kiss her again. His tongue against hers sent shivers down her spine, but Cicily had a hard time thinking of anything but the feeling his shaft warm against her thigh as he fumbled between their legs. She reached down and guided him, giving his cock a gentle squeeze as she slid it between the lips of her sex.

With no warning he thrust into her, so hard and sudden that she thought he would tear her apart. It was everything her body had been craving for weeks, the feeling of being full of him, his weight heavy on her, the warmth of his member stuffing every inch of her snatch. She threw her head back and screamed with delight. Fuck the neighbors, fuck the thin walls, Tazio was inside of her, stretching her, and she would scream as much as she wanted. Tazio slammed into her again, so hard and rough that it pushed her across the bed, leaving her head dangling upside-down off of the edge. Her breasts bounced back and forth almost painfully, her breathing came out in ragged gasps, and his stubble scratched as he kissed her neck, her cheek, her lips. He didn’t stop pounding, didn’t even pause, and she dug her nails into his arms and hung on tight to him.

After two months of lonely nights, Cicily wasn’t surprised when his thrusting became more erratic, his breathing sped up. She moved her hips in small circles as he impaled her, letting him build to his climax, waiting for just the right moment.

“Harder, Tazio,” she moaned, steeling herself, “make me feel it in the morning.”

It was rougher than she had even remembered, when Tazio didn’t hold back. With one arm he half-lifted her body from the bed, plunging into her so hard that it hurt, but the pain felt so good she didn’t want it to ever stop.

Cicily felt his hot seed spraying inside of her when he came, growling into her mouth in a rough moan. She was panting, her slit throbbed, and when he lay her back down on the bed she didn’t have the energy to even keep her head from dangling over the side. Tazio’s length twitched as he moved to rock back, but she held him with one arm.

“No, stay inside me,” she whispered. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“You’ll have to give me a few minutes then,” Tazio chuckled. Cicily shifted her hips closer to him, so that he would stay inside of her even as he softened. She could feel his jizz and her fluids slowly dripping from her and onto the bed, but she didn’t care. His strong arms were on either side of her, his satisfied panting a few feet away, and when he rested his head between her breasts she knew he was listening to her heartbeat.

“I can stand waiting a few minutes, if I’m waiting like this,” she sighed. Her heartbeat was pounding so loud in her ears that she almost missed the sound of the door opening, but from where her head dangled upside-down, she could see it.

Siricio entered, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

 

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To Be Continued…