novelraw Chapter 369: Hervor and the Heaving Hut
Chapter 369: Hervor and the Heaving Hut
Inaia had to pretend she didn’t see the bashful looks on the faces of the islanders as they walked with them to the Longhouse for breakfast an hour later. The folk put their stares everywhere but on the four of them. Their smiles said enough—a mix that told they were both impressed, and in awe of their strangely beautiful visitors. As the bunch treaded on to the sprawling cabin, Inaia literally broke into the thoughts of one yellow-toothed grinning man; she read his mind, which wasn’t hard to do at all in her current [Corporeal].
’We all know what you girls and that man were doing in the southern hut. We heard you guys. Hee-hee!’
She even heard his pervert glee right out his head. Inaia crossed her eyes at him, giving him the look, ’really, dude?’
The man turned away his face, forging ahead into the others.
Inaia brought back her gaze into their circle: the mysterious company of four that had so besotted El Cabana right after stumbling through the forest into their treasure of an island. She looked from Thyra to Kambili, whispering to the latter, "you know you’re the reason the villagers keep staring at us like that. Like, could you be any more vocal?"
Kambili blinked. She kept a serious face. "Wanna bet?"
"What?" Inaia whispered louder, nudging the fairer woman with a playful shove. Thyra chuckled but maintained her straight face. They already had too much attention. "Are you being serious right now?" Inaia pressed her lips in a thin line.
"What," Kambili volunteered back, unaffected, "so da village all heard us. So what? Everybody inna here was having fuck last night. I think we should rather be confident dat we all had one man who could satisfy us, no?" Kambili dropped her voice, "I know I’m not the only one who sees Sire has a really big ting."
Inaia did a doubletake. "A really big TING? What!"
Thyra actually choked this time. But Kambili was not done, "when he enters me," she said, "I feel so full. No one can quench ma pleasure. No one..."
"Okay, okay. Sshhh! Damn, bitch." Inaia put up her hands to stop her. She sighed, and the three girls all shared a look. Thyra laughed, "but our man really does have a big dick. Whaaaat?"
Thyra laughed harder. "I can’t believe you guys," said Inaia, "you have no shame." Though Inaia tried to be at least the lady here, she still grinned because she knew it was true. Better than any of his past flings, Inaia knew her Host packed some meat on him. She hoped she’d get her turn this evening. Kambili already had hers.
The Longhouse doors were just about a yard in front when the three girls jointly turned their eyes to the man of the morning, the quiet beauty in their company—their one love; he had not said a single word since Kambili had risen off his cock with a content, breathless smile. But he was always quiet, so the girls didn’t think much of it. Eotigan was silent for a reason this morning though.
He didn’t wake up on the wrong side of the bed. Not when Kambili’s wicked mouth had been wrapped tight around his wood. No. It was the event before the blowjob that troubled his mind.
The dream.
He mused, ’was it me or did that smoking giant broad look like Lilith in red hair?’
How could he trust his visions when his mind was betrayed with weird sex escapades of a woman that had offed herself because he refused to love her? Right after she’d murdered the women he DID love? What steaming shite?
"Fuck."
He’d not known he had spoken aloud till a soft hand curled into his clenching fist. He peered down. "Inaia," he whispered, gratitude in his voice. "Lord Host," Inaia said back; she was not at the moment bonded to him in [Mind Bridge] but she could read him well, and chose humor to ease his demons, she continued, dropping her voice, "you might want to unclench before folk think you’re here to bust the Chieftain’s balls."
Eotigan chuckled. He thumbed Inaia’s bubbly lips. The smile he gave was enough thanks for her.
Eotigan released his fists, put a distance in his mind between he and that colossal shit sex-dream, and walked through the Longhouse doors with one brunette, a blonde, and a rasta-chick glued to him. A table was already waiting beside that of a round, beaming man.
The staring didn’t stop as they joined in, and ate. The spread was marvelous. The food, of the sea and forest. Eotigan guessed vegan wasn’t a word on El Cabana. While the girls indulged the curry and shrimps, he only sampled the bone broth. A tan, older woman with straight, long silver hair kept staring at him as he emptied his bowl of steaming soup. He was guessing she had prepared the delicious meal. And when he demanded a second fill, she just about heaped his bowl with delightsome vegetables.
Contrary to his initial thought, Eotigan did enjoy this communal breakfast. He wasn’t new to large, social gatherings around heaped tables, but in Hel it had been most dinners—with the addition of nude slaves, dancers, and the occasional orgy.
This...this was different.
Eotigan was slurping his third bowl when the round man on the high table adjacent to theirs stood. "Their Chief," Inaia offered to his raised eyebrows. Eotigan dropped his licked plate. Well, the Chieftain was definitely on the big-boned percentile of the island. At least, his uncle Damisi, the blue dragon wasn’t here to roast the Chief—quite literally too.
The rising of the fat Chieftain quietened the Longhouse. The man had a surprisingly big voice. And if Eotigan squinted he could see the vestiges of the hunk this Chief had once been—before the discovery of palm wine. "Fathers! Mothers! Husbands and Wives, and Sons and Daughters! My people: we welcomed to our island friends, and protectors of the sea during Calypso’s Showing last night. Despite being alien to our culture, they joined in our festival, they drank our wines, danced by our fires, sang our rhythms, and fucked under our moon—
Hahahaahaaa," the Longhouse shattered in laughter, the folk giggling with their Chief. Eotigan had an amused smile pass his handsome face. Thyra hid her face. Kambili vibrated along. And Inaia had on her face a look of I-Told-You-So.
The Chief went on, "but we desire even more pleasure and experience of our visiting friends, don’t we? Thus, to their man we render the Heaving Hut, and his three concubines a trip to our famous saunas."
Eotigan zoned out. He gulped chilled coconut juice from a gourd. "Uh, what’s the Heaving Hut?"
But the girls were ecstatic over the sauna, so he couldn’t get a response out of Inaia.
"...Hervor will show you the way." The Chief finished, sweeping out an arm full of a dozen weighty gold bangles in the direction of the silver-haired woman.
Eotigan stayed to watch the girls leave in case he needed to bring in the cannons on this cute isle—not that he wanted to. The three of them waved him on their way, and he knew he’d incinerate El Cabana if they so much as asked it, even though he sincerely loved the place. He turned then to Hervor: mature, in her forties, glossy stark white hair. "Shall we?"
She led him silently, from the still boisterous Longhouse into a light forest thickened by creeping foliage. Vines blotted out the sun. Defiant rays slashed at the air. Eotigan busied himself with the enigma of Hervor. He tried at her story, unsure if she was silent because she desired quiet company like him, or because she could not speak. Her skin was not akin to the other islanders; her complexion not the color of burnt clay. She was before, the white of ivory. Because he saw her tan was the tan of many island summers. He wondered if she had run from some golden city like he...into the embrace of the sea and the many lies drowned in its turquoise waters.
Hervor suddenly stopped and pointed to a small hill beneath the largest Iroko on fucking earth.
The mammoth trees were as the guardians of the hill, surrounding the rise, where at its centre was a quaint, tapering hut.
Hervor pointed but said nothing. And Eotigan knew then that she couldn’t talk.
"The Heaving Hut." He whispered for her and himself.
Steps of raw whitestone ascended up the hill, whitestone that bled spring water if hit hard enough, the ancient rock forged the path from level forest upwards; on all other sides, the little hill was steeper than Adonis’ oiled hip. Nothing could stick.
Eotigan began climbing.
Halfway up the hill, he turned and peered down. Hervor had sat herself down on a moss, idly swatting at butterflies—waiting for him. Eotigan dropped his eyes; he wondered what he’d ever done to deserve such devotion from this silver woman. A woman he didn’t know literally yesterday. ’Was it because I’d eaten three bowlfuls of her soup?’
Lilith—the devious cunt, had always claimed that though he was the seventh son of Damnation, her boy had the captivating aura of an angel. He could make people worship him, love him, die for him, just because...
"In the end I guess SHE did." He muttered and turned from Hervor, back to the hill and its mystery hut.
At the back of his mind, Eotigan knew he had to cut Hervor loose, lest she end up like literally everybody in his past: dead. He’d probably have to tell her her soup tasted like piss—and hope it was enough to send her on her way. Probably not. But it’ll have to be done. Eotigan was so conflicted within himself that by the time he reached the top of the hill, he forsook manners and pushed the blackwood of the hut, barging right through the door.
ACK—
He froze.
A gorgeous brown woman was laid out on the floors, on the albatross rug just meters from the door. Her feather robe was open, exposing skin that shimmered in the highlights of passion. Her hands were busy. Her breasts were full and peaked. And she was heaving.