The Upper Hand (1/?)
The Upper Hand
Cara examined her fingers, the tight bandages a reminder that the last bandit had nearly gotten to her throat. With a roar of anger, she had ripped the poorly made, pocked blade away, though all three of her fingers had been struck. Anger had coursed through her veins, and her Agiel had devastated his defenses, and blood had filled his mouth. The bite of a poor blade incensed her.
At that moment, she had looked to see the woman who danced in a deadly tangle of slicing, puncturing and penetrating every bit of flesh she could encounter. Another of the bandits had noticed Cara just then, and with a wicked smirk, assumed the Mord'Sith was down.
Her bloodied fingers no longer mattered. Agiels thrown away, Cara rose up like the avatar of hate, and the goddess of pure, lightning quick anger. She seized his throat in her hands, and strangled him as though he were a chicken, then used his body to deflect the blow headed for the Confessor.
His face took the blow of the sword that swept down for Kahlan's arm, but Kahlan had already released her power. Her eyes were black, and Cara was drawn against her body with the human shield she had corralled. Her power released, Cara suddenly realized how dangerous and ineffective her actions had been. Kahlan's power still coursed through her. The Mord'Sith wasn't dead. Kahlan hadn't touched her when she released her power. Still, she cursed her own stupidity.
'Of course she is capable of handling a lone swordsman coming at her. She's a Confessor.' For once, Cara felt her self-confidence wane. In this situation, Kahlan had the upper hand, because she was also the Mother Confessor. She hurled the useless body of the man she intended to shield Kahlan with aside, suddenly aware of the ache in her hands.
They burned. She knew she was bleeding freely, but none of that mattered quite so much as the look in the Mother Confessor's eyes. Eyes that were engulfed in fury, completely black, and gripping the solitary survivor of their encounter.
“You will tell me why you attacked us, and you will tell me now.” Her tone was implacable. For some odd reason, it pleased her to hear Kahlan refer to it as “the reason he attacked “them”,” as a unit, rather than “her”. Her fingers twitched.
* * *
Cara shifted in her bedroll. Watch hadn't been enough to take her attention, and keep her mind off of the reason she currently couldn't sleep. She was infernally damp between her thighs; nearly dying had that effect upon her. She needed attention between her legs, and her primary hand was too injured. Finally, she rose from her bedroll to join Kahlan at the fire. It was just the two of them, since Zedd and Richard had departed for the next town. Cara ached as she looked at the brunette.
Kahlan regarded her with a polite, if distant smile. “Can't sleep?” She asked with utmost courtesy. She even held her hand out for Cara to take, but Cara just glared at it. Now she remembered why she didn't come to the Confessor with such things.
Still, it might help her traveling companion to know why she was awake and couldn't sleep.
Green eyes flickered to the bandage on her hand, and Cara spoke. “I'm feeling a little warm tonight, and with this, I can't do anything about it.” It was plainly stated, with a cocked eyebrow. Kahlan just looked puzzled, and suddenly, the Mord'Sith realized that the Confessor either had no idea of what she was talking about. With a gesture, she held up the bandaged hand, then she used her good hand to move between her thighs, with a nod of her head and a smirk. That should clear it up, she thought.
“You need to go, Cara, why didn't you say anything?” The Confessor exclaimed, much to her befuddlement. The Confessor wasn't taking this at all like she thought she would. “Let me help you out of your leathers so you can, Cara.” Kahlan looked at her with those blue eyes piercing her, as though she were drinking in her very soul. With one hand, she dragged Cara up, and pushed her deep into the bushes behind their camp. This is better than I thought, Cara mused, when Kahlan began undoing the laces of her pants, and pushing them down.
“You could have just told me that was what you needed, and I would have helped.” She moved away, leaving Cara spread near the stump, now fairly dripping at the idea that the Mother Confessor would help her. Then Kahlan left the clearing.
Well that wasn't helpful.
She didn't need her pants removed, she needed... Oh. A wicked grin crossed her face. Kahlan thought her incapable of removing her pants to piss. You can just tell me what you need and I will help. Cara full out smiled.
She waited a few moments, and then put her plan in motion. Leaving her pants down around her knees, and her wetness clearly on display, she decided to see just how far Kahlan would go to keep her word of “helping her”. She turned onto her back against the stump, her legs completely spread, showing just what sort of help she needed.
“Kahlan!” She called to the Confessor's turned back, and the raven hair snaking down whirled around as her blue eyes went wide. Smoldering green eyes dared the Mother Confessor, as she held up her injured hand. “I need.” She waited. Cara waited to be thrown out of their camp of two, their moment they were sharing, and the friendship she wasn't sure she was involved in.
Blue fire radiated out of Kahlan's eyes. She was no Confessor, she was a woman overcome by desire. Cara had always imagined that if she pushed her enough, she would get there, but the intensity of it surprised her.
Kahlan fell to her knees, gazing at her as though she was the Medusa and turned to stone. Still, the pale hand moved and caressed her stomach, dancing over her abdominal muscles like a fan. She stroked with more confidence, as Cara felt her own eyes darken with arousal, and she shifted to expose herself further.
Kahlan moved the pale hand to grasp Cara's left breast. The gasp resounded through the forest, and obvious moans of pleasure flew from Cara's throat. A second hand grasped her other breast, and a kiss clouded up and rained all over her lips when Kahlan seized her lips with her own.
Leaves and twigs dug into Cara's bare back, but nothing had ever felt so exquisite as Kahlan's lips upon her own. Kahlan had kissed her! She was caressing her breast. She was fondling her. Suddenly her hand didn't hurt so much, but there was an aching throb that needed attention.
“Anything.” Kahlan whispered against her mouth, and the world receded.
Kahlan's fingers were dancing between her folds. The touch was anything but clumsy, and had Cara arching her hips for more contact. She felt herself grinding against impossibly soft fingertips with nails longer than she should be comfortable with, but then her body betrayed her. Her legs spread wider, and she beckoned the fingers deeper to touch the places inside of her that yielded screams, cries, and more wetness.
Kahlan's fingers slipped so deeply inside of her, she was certain they touched her soul. She came repeatedly on those fingers, the name of the Mother Confessor on her lips, she forgot how badly her fingers hurt, or why the blessed fingers of Kahlan Amnell were making her come repeatedly.