Son of Bhaal

The Wood of Sharp Teeth

The air was cool at the summit of the sea-side cliff as Imoen climbed the slope to where her brother practiced swordplay.  Imoen was small for her sixteen years, barely reaching five feet, her body thin and wiry from her days of endless climbing.  The young girl wore her auburn hair short, it barely touched her slender neck.  Much to the dismay of her guardians in CandleKeep, Imoen enjoyed wearing leathers, tight breeches and loose tunic.  The girl's tan breeches were tucked into soft, flat-soled boots.  Imoen's guardians didn't know she carried a slim dagger in her left sleeve and a throwing knife in her right boot.  A kindly, old rogue had visited the library fortress once, he had taken the time to show a small, wide-eyed girl how to protect herself with knives, for he said that the world outside the keep was cruel and violent.

Imoen smiled at the memory of that old rogue when she reached the top of the cliff.  She brushed her bangs out of her face, the ocean wind blew hard upon the summit, thick with the scent of the salty water.  Imoen kept her smile as she watched her brother work out, she sighed longingly to herself.

Bain was deep in concentration, slipping from one sword stance to the next.  The young man's torso was bare and gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat, his long, black hair was tied back with its customary strip of dark leather.  Where Imoen was small and lithe, Bain was tall and burly, his limbs corded heavily with bands of muscle.  Bain was practicing with a polished long sword, the blade nicked but well-cared for, the hilt wrapped in leather.  The boy drew back his right arm, holding his sword perfectly horizontal, his wide, hairless chest clenching as muscles tightened.  

Imoen licked her lips, her breath quickened while she watched her brother practice, she admired every taut muscle and lock of silky hair that fluttered freely in the wind.

Bain smoothly brandished his sword before him, grasping the hilt with both hands.  He brought the vertical blade to his chest, exhaling the air held in his lungs.

Imoen clapped her hands appreciatively, Bain bowed to his sister gallantly.

The young girl approached her brother while he picked up a towel from his satchel and wiped the perspiration from his face and chest.  Imoen politely averted her light brown eyes, she looked down at the crashing, dark blue waves at the cliff's base.

"Is anything wrong, Imoen?" inquired Bain with concern.

"No, brother," smiled the girl, lowering herself to the ground and dangling her thin legs over the cliff.

Bain sat down next to his strangely quiet sister, usually he had trouble keeping her silent.

"What's bothering you?" prompted the boy, draping his strong right arm over Imoen's shoulders.

Imoen leaned against her brother, she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body, the scent of male sweat that still clung to him.

"The monks want us to leave," whispered Imoen into Bain's throat.

"Why?  Gorion hasn't said a word to me," frowned Bain.

"They say that the Zhentarim want us."

"Why?"

"I don't know!" grimaced Imoen.  "What are we going to do?"

"I'll talk to Gorion, he'll tell me what's going on," replied Bain confidently.

"I love you," wept Imoen, hugging her brother's waist desperately.

"It'll be alright," murmured Bain into his sister's hair.  He kissed the top of Imoen's head, then held her while the sky over the sea turned to velvet black.

***

The rain lashed at Imoen's face.  She stifled a scream of panic when thunder roared overhead, tongues of silver lightning snapping through the black, boiling clouds.

The girl ran across a field of tossing grass.  She looked over her right shoulder, Bain was right behind her, dressed in a black leather tunic and breeches, his nicked sword held firmly in his clenched, white-knuckled hand.  Fire raged behind Bain, it seemed to light up the entire horizon, casting a blood-red glow upon the shifting, tall grass.

Imoen wiped at the salty tears that mingled with the rain over her pale face.  Gorion was dead, he had been slain by black armored warriors while leading the two siblings away from CandleKeep.  The only parent that she and Bain had ever known was now nothing but a butchered corpse.

Bain kept pace with Imoen as they fled across the plain.  The siblings checked behind them often, there was no sign of pursuit, no men in spiked, black armor, no steeds with burning eyes and wild, ebony manes.  Imoen and her brother reached a cobble-paved road, to the south it led to Beregost, to the north lay Baldur's Gate.

"Which way?" gasped Imoen, hunching over to catch her breath.

Bain wiped rain out of his intent face and glanced to the north and south.  "We should avoid the road, it's too easy to spot us on it."

"Then where..?"

"We keep going east," decided Bain, nodding at the dark horizon in front of them.

Imoen bobbed her head in agreement.  She followed her brother as he resumed running across the grassy plain, his powerful chest pumping smoothly, his long, legs cutting through the swaying, green blades.

***

Bain waited until his sister had disappeared into the concealing shadows of the Wood of Sharp Teeth before stopping and turning to search the landscape behind them.  The boy narrowed his icy, gray eyes, the riders were coming, a dark line of armor and horseflesh closing in on them.  Bain clutched the hilt of his sword where it lay in its sheath, resting against his left thigh, the warriors would think twice about entering the Wood.

Bain walked into the nearly pitch black depths of the forest.  For some reason Bain could see quite clearly in the dark, he could make out the shapes of the towering trees, the thick bushes that clutched at his boots, the trembling outline of Imoen waiting for him in a small clearing.

Imoen rushed forward and clung to Bain.  The boy brushed his weeping sister's soft hair and tried to soothe her with his voice, saying that everything was okay, they would be safe in the Wood.  Imoen seemed to believe Bain, she stopped shivering, but she still hugged him tightly, her small breasts moving against his leather-armored torso.

Bain smiled down at his sister when she looked up at him, tears glittering on her smooth, flushed cheeks.  The boy didn't know what to do when Imoen stroked his face before kissing him hard on the mouth.

"Imoen..what!" stammered Bain, his face hot.

"I..just needed to kiss you," murmured the girl, quickly ducking her face down.

Imoen pushed away from her brother and put her back to him.  She laid a fist between her shivering breasts, licking her moist lips, relishing the taste of her brother that lingered upon them.

"We..should get deeper into the forest before making camp," said Bain with a cough, marching past Imoen into the mass of clustered trees.

Imoen raised her head and watched her brother advance into the foliage, she followed in his wake.

***

The siblings were quiet around the small, snapping fire.  Imoen and Bain sat across from each other, Bain idly poked the tiny blaze with a stick.

"Where are we going to live?" asked Imoen softly, not meeting her brother's gaze.

"I'm open to suggestions."

Imoen stood up and walked around the fire to Bain.  She sat down heavily next to him.  Bain seemed uncertain at first, but he made up his mind and draped his left arm around his sister like he always did when she was sad.  Imoen rested her head on Bain's shoulder, she took his left hand and entwined her fingers with his.

"Why are they after us?"

Bain remained silent, he stared into the dancing flames.

Imoen looked up into her brother's face, she noticed the averted eyes, the tense jaw.

"You know, don't you?"

"It isn't important."

"Yes it is!  Tell me!" demanded the girl.

Bain exhaled sharply, he looked down at his sister, he stroked her warm hair.

"We're children of Bhaal."

"The god of Murder?" whispered Imoen, her brown eyes wide.

"Aye," agreed the solemn boy.  "That's why the Zhentarim and others are looking for us, we have power that they want."

Imoen rested her head over her brother's heart, she held him, drew strength from him.

"I'll protect you, Imoen.  I won't let them hurt you."

Imoen tilted her face up, she smiled up at her brother, her heart racing.  She sat up and slipped her fingers into Bain's thick, black hair, she brushed her lips against his, then kissed him deeper, lovingly.

Bain pulled back his face, he regarded his sister silently, he traced a fingertip across her tender, lower lip.  Imoen kissed the fingertip, she enfolded it with her lips, sucked lightly upon it.

"How long have you felt this way?" murmured the boy.

"Always.  I would look at the men who passed through the keep:  scholars, warriors, merchants, but you were the only one I ever wanted, the only one I wanted to touch me, to love me."

"The monks taught us.."

"I don't care.  I love you, I want you to love me," whispered Imoen, taking her brother's right palm and placing it over her soft, left breast.

Imoen leaned close to Bain, she kissed his throat, nuzzled the side of his neck.  Bain moaned softly, he dug his fingers into his sister's short hair, he trembled as the girl's sweet breath caressed his skin.  Passion inflamed the boy's blood, he held the back of Imoen's head and embraced his sister back, he kissed her hard, devoured her moist lips.  The siblings took off each other's tunics, Imoen lowered her face and licked her brother's left nipple until it was stiff with arousal, Bain fondled his sister's right tit, tugging gently on it, caressing its milky, warm flesh.

The siblings kissed again, Imoen opened her mouth and Bain slipped his tongue inside, probing, licking gently.  The burly, young man hugged his sister's small waist, she arched back while her brother sucked on each of her trembling breasts, covering them with droplets of his saliva.  As Bain savored his sister's small tits, Imoen untied his breeches and dug her fingers inside, grasping her brother's member and stroking it to life.  Bain's cock swelled from his pretty sister's touch, he moaned against her left nipple while she fondled his meat, her gentle fingers caressing every inch, teasing the head until it was bloated and oozing.

Imoen ran her tongue up Bain's flat stomach and chest.  She kissed him ravenously, she massaged his tongue and pressed her young breasts against his torso, her fingers constantly stroking, keeping his prick hard in her grasp.  Imoen lowered her face onto her brother's crotch, the boy slid his palms down her bare back, grasping her small buttocks and squeezing them. The young girl kissed the very tip of her brother's engorged cock.  She looked up into her brother's lust-glazed eyes and kissed it again, then a third time.  Imoen planted kisses down the entire length of Bain's shaft, her left hand clutched the fat tip, milking it, covering her fingers in sticky cum.  The slim girl pressed her nose against the base of her brother's cock and sucked one of his testicles into her mouth, she watched Bain while she slurped loudly, her fingers pumping his throbbing meat, coating it with his own semen.

"I..I can't hold it much longer," groaned Bain, his hands caressing his sister's bare shoulders.

Imoen straightened, she climbed onto her brother's lap after discarding her breeches, resting her weight on his muscled thighs.  Brother and sister guided the boy's aching cock to the girl's inviting pussy.  Imoen looked down and watched when Bain's cum-slick penis disappeared inside her moist cunt.  The naked, young girl kissed her brother as he shoved his cock deeper inside her, the shaft seeming to grow within her belly.  Imoen hugged Bain's strong neck, she began rolling her hips, thrusting forward with her pelvis.  The boy held his humping sister, caressing her smooth, bare back, kissing her lips, her throat, her graceful neck.  The siblings slammed together over and over, their naked flesh gleamed in the hot firelight. Imoen locked eyes with her gasping brother, she kissed him hard, holding onto his lips with her mouth while she rode him, his prick ramming up into her squeezing vagina.  Imoen clutched Bain's waist with her slender legs, she panted inside his mouth, sensually caressing his tongue with hers, the smell of his musk and sweat driving her mad with lust.

Riding her brother's crotch faster and faster, Imoen hugged Bain's neck tight, her hips shuddered when her belly exploded with erotic heat.  Imoen drove Bain's cock to the hilt inside her cunt, she held it in place with the strong muscles of her vagina, moaning when her brother's member gushed to life inside her, filling her with his hot, creamy seed.

The firelight flickered across the siblings' sweaty, naked skin.  Imoen rested on her brother's lap, his cock still nestled inside her pussy, slick with their combined cream and honey.  The young girl lightly kissed her brother's panting lips, his flushed cheek, his warm, smooth shoulder.  Bain held his sister close, he buried his face in her damp hair.

*****