I Can't Lose You

Journal of Rowana, daughter of Rowetha
23 / 04 / 2120 of the Fourth Age, cont'd

"I can help," Azzie insisted.

The living room was covered in what was left of the wrapping the house had come in, laid out in sheets for the guns to rest on as I cleaned, oiled, and checked the action on all of them. Bebe was staying in bed, trying to get back to his usual sleep schedule.

"Precious, it's a highly secure megacorporate black site. You, Bebe, and the cat are staying here," I said. "That's final."

"I'm an assassin," the Uruk-Hai said. She was seated across from me, and had insisted on helping. I was fortunate Bardur had thrown in an extra cleaning kit. She seemed to know what she was doing. Whether that gave credence to her story about being a hitwoman or not, I wasn't sure.

"Alleged assassin," I said firmly. "You're not going."

She bared her fangs. There was a smudge of grease on one cheek, and she'd tied up her hair. Seated on the floor in nothing but a too-tight t-shirt and a pair of panties that outlined her vulva, I thought she looked better than most of the pinup models that had haunted my nights out on patrol.

"I was raised and trained there," Azzie insisted. "I can get us in and out. There and back again."

"A Hobbit's story," I said automatically, remembering the required reading at school. Her brow furrowed like she did when she had no idea what I was on about. I set the Deathdealer down and reached for the Elf-blade, still in its sheath.

Azzie grabbed the handle. We both pulled, and the blade slipped free. The edges of the Elf-blade burned blue in her grip, like a line of azure fire. It glinted off the golden ring that hung between her breasts.

"You need me," she said, standing up. I stood up too. Eyes wide, locked on hers, but using my peripheral vision to watch the movement of her shoulders and body.

"That's why you're not going," I said. "I can't lose you."

I made a grab for the blade. In an instant, Azzie moved in a way that I'd never seen her move before. Ears pinned back against her head, she dropped into a crouch, thumb along the back of the blade as she swiped at me. Wired reflexes had me moving almost before I realized it, with a speed and grace Azzie couldn't match. Yet she had good technique, and she took advantage, stepping forward with a quick thrust. I sidestepped, made a grab at the collar of her shirt.

It wasn't like the stims. Knife-fighting isn't ballet, and fights are over fast. My hand caught her shirt, and I pulled her towards me. The blade came up, and I caught her wrist. Her strength was tremendous, and I planted my feet and twisted my whole body, trying to keep my center of gravity low as I pulled her over my head for a throw that slammed her hard into the floor.

I paused as I felt the cold kiss of the knife at the nape of my neck. Azzie was on the ground, upside-down from my perspective, her shirt torn, those great gleen globes spilling out, but she had me.

Bebe mumbled something in the Black Speech. We both turned to look at him. The skinny Orc was rubbing his eyes, the tip of his cock hanging out of what looked very much like a pair of my panties. Even though we'd just bought him his own underwear.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He asked the two chieftains to please stop fighting," Azzie said, as she tried not to smile. She pulled the blade away from my neck. "You see? I can fight."

"If it comes down to a fight, we've already lost," I pointed out, as I let go of her shirt and sat down. "This is infiltration and extraction. Go in, achieve the objectives, get out. And on top of that, we still don't know all of what's in your head. You said it yourself that there are still memories locked away. What if you get in there and they activate some sort of sleeper agent programming?"

Azzie sat up and pouted. She was good at it. Bebe looked at the floor, looking for a space among the guns to sit down, then scratched his balls. The Uruk and I shared a look. Someone had to look after Bebe.

Finally, Azzie came to a decision. She pulled the cord that held the ring off of her neck and slipped it over my head.

"Use it," she said. "When you have to. We both need you to come back."

Her mouth closed in. Her fangs pressed against my lips as hard and fierce as any kiss we'd ever shared. It was a moment that was only slightly ruined when Bebe whipped out his dick, the impressive erection standing tall and proud out from his skinny body.

He was still stroking it as Azzie dropped the knife and her hands moved to my belt, to pull my pants down. At some point, as my shirt came off and our pants came down, Bebe realized he wasn't getting in on this moment. So he leaned against the wall, knuckles shuffling along the thick length of his dick, enjoying the show.

I couldn't begrudge him that.

We ended up side-by-side on the floor, in a little space between the guns. My head between her thighs, hers between mine. I still had the tampon in, but she her tongue and lips focused on my clit. My hands clung to her ass like it was my lifeline, and I think in a real way it was. As my tongue delved into those hot, tangy depths, as her lips sucked softly against my throbbing pleasure button, we were both doing more than having sex. We were making love, clutching and rubbing against one another with **** need that had less to do with the urge for climax and everything to do with making the most of the time we had together.

I had come all the way out here to the ass-end of nowhere after a life in the military with no other hope for the future than to spend my life under the sun and smoking pipe-weed until a stroke or lung cancer got me first.

Now, I had something to fight for. A home. A lover. A family.