Okedoke....For MrsB
Nordlingen, Bavaria Sept 1634
The rain was coming down heavier than ever, threatening to extinguish the few fires that had been kindled against the chill air. Darkness was falling, and a fog hung heavily over the ranks of injured and battle worn soldiers. A lone figure stood surveying the scene, dark hair plastered to his head, drips snaking their way inside the upturned collar or his charcoal leather doublet, to soak the shirt beneath. Dispassionate blue eyes taking in the tortured cries of the wounded and dying. What the hell was he doing in this godforsaken place?......Paris, his comrades, his brothers, his life such as it was, so far away. He cursed Richelieu and his influence over the king, insisting on a French presence in this hellhole. Picturing the smirk on the First Ministers face as, with a few choice words in the Royal ear, Athos had been consigned to this outpost, an envoy to preside over the crushing defeat by the Spanish of their Swedish allies.
Soaked to the skin and depressed, Athos turned slowly away from the decimated group of men and strode into the darkening woodland. Exhausted as he was from battle, he needed solitude. In reality, he desperately yearned for the the oblivion found at the bottom of a bottle, but such a luxury was not available, so Athos sought the oblivion of silence and darkness. Plunging through the undergrowth heading for the protection from the weather of an overhanging rocky bluff and wishing to distance himself from the camp of strangers, to whom he was supposed to feel some sort of allegiance. So lost in his darkest thoughts was he, he very nearly missed the crack of a twig under the weight of a foot.
Senses instantly heightened, body tensed and poised, his eyes shot in the direction of the sound, His heart rate increased in preparation for attack, and when it came his blade was in his hand before his mind registered the whistle of rapier through air next to his ear. Instinct and training took over, twisting his shoulders away and intercepting the first vicious attack, he levered his attackers weapon away with a skill born of many lessons. Cut, thrust, blow after blow rained down, each one parried and countered. Practiced moves, ingrained since his noble childhood protected him against threat of a strike, but Athos was also battle weary, his shoulders burned and his legs ached as he lunged and twisted his body and he felt himself being driven into a narrower space under the cliff face. Suddenly he was aware his feet had become tangled in....what?, what was that ?.......a bed roll ? Whatever it was, he was unbalanced and felt himself thrown back against the wall of rock, the impact sending shockwaves through his torso and knocking the breath from his chest. In a wink his assailant was upon him, the blade held across his throat. He had never been bested in a fight....how appropriate that he should meet his end here in this place, far from his friends, lonely, with no one to mourn him. His breath coming in heaving gasps, dark hair now forming damp curls and sweat forming a sheen across his chest, he glared into the eyes of his opponent.
Closing his eyes he swallowed hard and prepared himself for the final strike, could feel the sting of sharp steel against his skin. It did not come. Instead, a mouth crashed down on his own, forcing his head back painfully against the rough unyielding rock. It was a hard, bruising kiss, this strangers mouth plundering his, teeth biting at his bottom lip, tongue forcing its way into his mouth. Shockwaves ran through him, his mind a confused turmoil of surprise and anger, coldly reasoning that this would be his final humiliation.....but, in contrast to his mind, he felt his body responding most unexpectedly. A heat was filling across his belly, and he felt his traitorous cock twitch and start to swell under the onslaught of that hot, determined mouth. It was enough.....he may be taken in his final moments, but he was damned if he was going to enjoy it. Rallying his arms into action he grabbed his attacker by his collar and thrust him to arms length.
Breath coming in hot ragged gasps, piercing blue eyes meeting his own azure ones, pupils blown wide with desire. He became aware of the warmth of a campfire burning a few feet away, the light reflecting on the face in front of him, picking out high cheekbones and slightly parted lips, jaw smooth and skin too delicate to be that of a toughened warrier.
“förlåt mig, sir”
“min kamp är inte med dig”and the blade was lowered from his throat
A wide brimmed tricorn was pulled down low on his assailant’s head, Athos raised a hand and tugged at it, releasing tumbling nut brown locks that fell down to waist level.
With wide eyed astonishment, he breathed “you are a woman!”
**
“you are a woman”
The words hung in the air between them as they stared at each other in wide open astonishment. She was dressed in the navy woollen great coat of the allied army, her breeches and tights, once presumably the gold of her mother country were now filthy with the mud of the battlefield. She was tall, nearly as tall as he, and despite the dirt spattering her features and the grime and rain that caused her hair to fall in wet hanks, she was a beautiful woman. Athos stood paralysed before her.
A defiant expression in her eyes combined with an unabashed desire as she took a step towards him. When she spoke, with a heavy accent, it was in his native tongue, and so close he could feel her breath on his face;
“and you sir” the distain evident in her voice as she near spat the words, “are a Musketeer”
There was barely a moment to pull air into his lungs before her mouth took his again, her body pressed hard against his, pinning him to the unyielding granite at his back. Her tongue plundering deep, licking messily around his lips, then delving once again to clash with his own. His surprise at once again being dominated, immediately gave way to an intensity of desire that threatened to overwhelm him. His hands, now unoccupied lifted to rake fingers into her hair, holding her to him as he desperately fought to return her kiss. Heat rose from his belly up through his spine and he was unable to prevent a wrecked groan escaping, harsh and agonised from his throat. Hands were at his neck, tearing at his scarf and the buttons of his doublet. tugging his shirt loose, exposing the muscular contours of his torso, sliding down beneath the waistline of his trousers......another tortured profanity escaped from him unbidden, never before had he been so controlled, so overpowered.....it was like a drug to Athos, usually so contained, a fire had been lit and the pent up frustration he had kept bottled for years was unleashed.
His hands flew to her coat, tearing it from her shoulders, and ripping at the linen fabric of the shirt beneath. Using his greater strength he forced her backwards and down onto the rough roll of bedding then dropping to his knees between her legs he leant towards her, the fire blazing in his eyes. As she threw her head back, he took this as an invitation to bite, suck and lick his way down her neck, his beard scratching the sensitive skin over her collar bone. The fabric of her chemise, already torn, was perfunctorily disregarded exposing her breasts to his hungry mouth. He sucked hard on her nipple, and a shot of pleasure/pain took a direct line to her cunt so acute that she arched and writhed frantically against him. His hands, continuing their quest for skin, tore at the sash around her waist, at the fastenings of the breeches, and eventually finding access drove their way between her legs. She gasped as his rough fingers sought their way to her entrance, and his eyes dark with desire, locked suddenly onto hers as he realised how ready for him she was.
A moan escaped parted lips and their eyes remained fixed on each other as he pushed into her, slowly at first, then faster, faster until she was bucking under him, forcing her hips down onto his hand, fucking herself on his fingers. Each time she did so, her pelvis rubbed against his, making them both aware of how painfully hard he was. Helpless to prevent it, he ground himself against her, the friction of his engorged manhood against his leather trousers almost unbearable.
Oh Gud.....Min Gud” she uttered under her breath as he laved her clit with her own wetness
“heliga Guds Moder” she cried as, with a few short strokes, he brought her to a shuddering climax.
Panting harried breaths in the aftermath of her orgasm, she shot a look under her lashes at the beautiful creature that had brought her to this state. He hovered over her, dark hair falling into his eyes, face flushed, and pupils so blown the blue of his irises had all but disappeared, she thought she had never seen such a devastatingly handsome man. Such a gentleman too, to ensure she was satisfied, and now to wait until she had ridden out her pleasure..... He was looking down at her now with an almost pleading expression, and yet with an undertone of such barely contained aggression, a thrill of excitement tightened between her legs.
Running her tongue slowly over her dry lips, she felt him shudder as she snaked her arms slowly around his waist. Quick as a flash she drew his main gauche from its holder, and to his surprise rolled him over and threw him onto his back with the blade once again held to his throat. In shock, his hands immediately fell into a gesture of submissive surrender, his eyes wide open maintained a wary focus upon the sharp point. A wicked smile played upon her lips as she straddled him.
“you seem to like it rough, Musketeer” she leered and pressed herself against the hardness of his groin.
Keeping the knife held firmly at his neck her other hand went to his pistol, unhooking it from his belt and tossing it dismissively to one side. She then set about expertly divesting him of baldric, powder horn and belt before turning her attention to the last few buttons that held his doublet together.
He swallowed, adams apple working in his throat;
“It appears I am yours to do with what you will” he muttered, his voice thick, eyes flicking to meet hers briefly before returning to the knife. Biting her bottom lip, she allowed her attention to trail down the deep open V of his shirt;
“Sir, I have every intention of doing just that” she whispered, and he gasped as she traced the edge of the V with the point of the blade, grazing the skin over his nipple, then continuing swiftly down to rend the fabric in two, pulling it apart to expose the bunched muscles of his rectus sheath 
and the soft fuzz covering his navel.
She then turned her attention to the buttons of his trousers, taking her time she worked them free from their restraints, relishing the popping sound as each nub was pressed through it’s leather slit, and amused by the groans emitting from her captive as her hands brushed against his groin, slowly revealing his hard length. With a perfunctory flick of her wrist the lacings of his underclothes were dealt with, and he lay before her fully exposed, gazing at her from under half closed lids, his breath coming in shaky expectant gasps. The sight of him was beautiful.
“It would seem sir, that you are not entirely unwilling....?” she questioned, and with a smirk she added “....although, perhaps...... it has been a while?”
at that he raised a single eyebrow, “perhaps it is that I am not accustomed to performing at knifepoint”
A small smile played across her lips, and she made a show of dropping the dagger to one side. Leaning down, she inhaled his scent, his essence a heady combination of warm musk, sweat and leather....she found him irresistible, and despite herself she drew towards him and licked a wet stripe along his length, from base to leaking apex
“Oh.....sweet Jesus!”, the curse burst from him unbidden as firm lips enclosed around the head of his cock and a tongue playfully flicked at his tip. Heat and desire flooded through his belly, the suddenness nearly tipping him over the edge, yet then she was gone. He became aware of her kicking off her boots and hurriedly wriggling out of breeches before straddling him again and repositioning herself over his straining cock. Teasing, she used him to toy with her entrance, massaging his hardness against her clit, sliding back and forth and occasionally allowing him to briefly dip into her. She could feel herself swelling around him, heat and wetness increasing as she worked herself back to a state of unbridled bliss.
He could bear it no longer. His hands seized her hips, and with a growl he drove them downwards, plunging himself into her to the hilt. She gave an angry glower and grabbed him by the wrists, forcing his arms above his head and pinning them against the dusty ground, however in so doing so a dam of desire was breeched and a torrent of wanton lust poured through her. Pelvis thrust against pelvis, his length driving into her like a piston. Faster and faster they rode each other into a state of frenzied ecstasy, breath wrenched from them in sharp strangulated gasps, until finally with a yell, her fibrillating muscles clenched against him and they shuddered to a overwhelming climax
For many moments they remained motionless, her slumped across his chest, he with his arms still pinned above his head, their breathing shaky into each others necks. Then, slowly lifting herself up she met his stunned gaze with her clear blue eyes, the look of defiance and the hint of a smirk had returned to her face. He cleared his throat to speak;
“What is your name?” he asked, his voice harsh and cracked. She stared at him for a moment before answering;
“Maylinn” she said as she swung herself off him and turned towards the fire, busying herself adding sticks to the dwindling flames. Eyeing her back he sat up and began adjusting his clothes with hands that still trembled, “I am Athos” he said.
Her chin angled fractionally towards him,
“I don’t care” she sneered.