Round 5 - DNash
"Oof!" Not expecting the heavy pack to be tossed to her at that moment, Marguerite was caught unprepared. "Thanks so much."
Roxton just grinned. Then his face turned serious once more. "We need to get moving if we want to have any hope of finding Malone today." The hunter had been up late the previous night cleaning their weapons and organizing for the rescue expedition.
The rain had eased up and finally stopped shortly after midnight. Only then had Roxton grabbed a few hours of sleep, but he was feeling refreshed and ready nonetheless. The hunt was what he lived for—he only wished they weren’t hunting for a missing friend.
He called out to the rest of their party. "Challenger? Veronica? Ready to go?"
Veronica appeared in the common room before he’d finished speaking. "Yes," she said. In contrast to Roxton, the young woman looked tired. She’d gone to bed as soon as she’d gotten warm and dry, but she didn’t appear to have gotten much sleep. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and a small line of worry creased her forehead giving her what looked like a constant scowl.
Roxton noticed the expression, and it disturbed him. "Don’t worry, Veronica. We’ll find him."
"Of course we will," she agreed with a sharp nod. Then she called out, "Challenger?"
"No need to shout," the inventor said from nearby. He looked around the group. "Ready are we?"
It was quick work for him to strap on his gun belt, and each of them did a final check of his or her weapons. Then each shouldered a pack of supplies, and they stepped into the elevator.
"Oof!" grunted Phoebe as Malone collapsed against her. "You’re heavier than you look," she muttered. Awkwardly but carefully, she lowered him once more to the floor of the cell. The Amazon rose and popped her head out the open cell door and looked around. "Kala," she called out to the guard at the foot of the stair. The brawny woman approached. "I need your help."
At last she had Malone where she wanted him. Unfortunately, he was still unconscious. That doesn’t mean I can’t make him comfortable while I wait for Selena, she thought. A runner had been sent to find the tribe’s queen and healer, but an injured prisoner wasn’t the highest priority on the monarch’s list.
Phoebe moved to the foot of the big bed and removed the reporter’s boots. That done, she was sure he’d be more comfortable without that bulky vest. It would mean untying his hands, but she could easily retie them when she was finished. She reached for the bonds and paused. "You’re not faking it again, are you?" she asked him warily.
Malone’s only response was his slow, steady breathing.
"Hmm." Satisfied, Phoebe untied his hands and began removing his vest. It was an awkward business that required rolling him from one side to the other. The reporter groaned, his face pinched with pain, but he didn’t wake.
Finally, the vest was off. The Amazon set it aside and was about to retie Malone when a thought occurred to her. Since I’m here, I might as well take off that shirt of his, too. It will help Selena to have it out of the way when she treats his wounds. She conveniently ignored the fact that the only wound she’d seen was on his head.
Unbuttoning the shirt, she was surprised and a bit annoyed to find another beneath it. This one would be more difficult to remove as it would have to be pulled over the reporter’s head. Phoebe wondered why the man wore so many clothes. It couldn’t be for protection; the flimsy cloth wouldn’t stand up to even the dullest arrow. She shook her head and pulled out her knife, using it to slice through this final layer of fabric. With both shirts laid open, it was a matter of moments to remove them. Malone moaned once or twice during the maneuver, but his eyes remained stubbornly shut.
The frustrated Amazon stared at him for a minute, enjoying the smooth skin and defined muscles of his chest and belly. Blast, she thought in annoyance. She wanted Malone healed so she could have fun with him as she and her sister Thea had once had. Almost had, she reminded herself. They’d been rudely interrupted in their pleasure by that irritating blonde, Veronica. Now Thea was dead and they could never have the kind of fun they might have with this man. That being the case, Phoebe was determined to have enough fun for both herself and her lost sister, in honor of her memory.
Phoebe’s eyes rested on Malone’s belt and the strange pockets that adorned it. She knew they were meant to hold weapons; she’d been the one who’d taken them from him when the scouting party had captured him and his Zanga companions.
"That can’t be comfortable," she decided. On her knees beside the unconscious reporter, she reached out and undid the buckle. She then unfastened the buttons of his pants reasoning once again that it would aid in Selena’s treatment. As gently as she could, she removed both belt and pants, leaving him in only his drawers and socks.
Phoebe crawled up the bed to lie next to him. She placed a hand against his cheek. The stubble she found there intrigued her. She giggled. The reporter responded to the sound even in unconsciousness and rolled a little toward her. Phoebe giggled again and ran her hand along his side. Still, Malone didn’t wake.
She continued her trek downward and slipped her hand under the waistband of his drawers, grasping one firm buttock and squeezing it gently. She was rewarded with another moan, this time one that sounded more of pleasure than of pain. The Amazon continued the massage, felt the man’s involuntary response press against her leg. She leaned into him.