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Suspicious Arrangement	By : SAF Category: S through Z > Wheel of Time Series Views: 13892 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Wheel of Time series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Suspicious Arrangement
- 1
It had been a long and hot summer that year, Rand had turned fourteen the winter before and had slowly gotten over the weirdness of having to look down in order to meet Tam’s eyes. He had been more concious than ever of how tall and skinny he was and resolved to balance out his height with some muscle, fearing that he would be made fun of when spring came upon them. So he had thrown himself into the work of the farm with a passion that Tam had called “puberty”. Every chore that needed doing, Rand was first to take it on. Every predator that spooked the flock, Rand was first to charge out into the cold and walk a patrol of their homestead. Slowly his legs began to look more naturaly proportioned and less storkish, his arms and chest took on a more detailed design, his shoulders began to take on bulk. Never as much as Perrin’s, but Rand had not expected that. Perrin was a blacksmith’s apprentice after all. What was the point of competing? His oldest friend was shy, but no-one had ever dared poke fun at him over it. Rand had long ago dismissed his envy as unworthy and wished Perrin well. No, the only person he competed with was himself.

When they had come in to Emond’s Field for the spring Tam had teased him about his efforts, saying that the girls would be whistling him all the way to the inn, and that Mat Cauthon, whose family they had arranged to stay with, would be sure to have something interesting to say. Rand had not been sure which he dreaded more. He had begun to regret his efforts, but surely it was not vanity not to want to be mocked? Tam had been wrong though. The girls had not whistled at all, only looked surprised. But some of the women had smiled their approval,and plump Elisa al’Seen had even told him that she had best warn her son Wil, in case he keel over from apoplexy. Wil was a dark and handsome youth Rand’s age, who had what Mat called a silver tongue. Rand thought Wil had a forked tongue more than a silver one. He had heard the autumn before that there had been an incident involving Wil that Nynaeve had had to take up with the Women’s Circle. The adults would not say exactly what Wil had done but Rand had dismissed out of hand his claims to have been the injured party. When they had delivered Tam’s cider to the inn that year, Rand had gone out the back to see Mat and Perrin, who were supposed to be waiting for him, but both boys had dissapeared and Egwene al’Vere was sitting on the roots of the tree reading the Travels of Jain Farstrider. She had smiled at the sight of him and they had caught up on the news while Rand waited for his friends. Egwene had surprised him when she said that he looked taller this year. Rand had told her of how he had outgrown nearly everything he had to wear and how exasperated Tam had been. Then he had asked if she knew anything about Nynaeve and Wil and she had told him that she heard that Wil had tried to kiss Nynaeve that autumn and gotten a fist on the jaw for his trouble, even before Nynaeve told his parents. Rand frowned as she spoke, certain now that Wil had lied. Egwene was the Mayor’s youngest daughter and knew more about the goings on of Emond’s Field than any girl her age had a right to. He caught her looking at him oddly as he frowned, her brown eyes holding rebuke. Did she think him wrong to be gossiping? She was doing the same. He sighed as he realised that it was his own concious nibbling at him. “Well, its none of my buisness I know, but I had wondered. Wil has no shame at all.” Rand stopped himself just before telling her what Wil had said and bid her good day. Egwene stopped him with a hand on his arm and a determined look in her eye. “You’re right, its none of your buisness what the Wisdom and the Women’s Circle say or do.” He accepted her words with a polite nod. Then she smiled like the Egwene he knew and told him that she would dance with him at the Beltine festival. Her eyes had been so large and so dark that he could not but accept. Egwene had whirled and fled past him into the inn, her unbound hair streaming behind her. Rand had smiled after her for some time, before his eyes strayed to the window where he found Mistress al’Vere watching him. Her usually kind face was set in matronly dissaproval, her braided hair pulled forward over one shoulder, her brown eyes knew his thoughts and he blushed.

When Mat and Perrin had finally come back, from spreading black grease over the Coplins cows’ markings to confuse the ownership they said, they had complimented Rand on his new muscles and the three boys had gone off to do what boys do. Rand had not seen Egwene or Marin until the festival, since preparing the Beltine post was only for women. When he did see Egwene she was looking even more stubborn than usual and Rand was beginning to regret his agreement with her. Nynaeve was standing apart from the crowds with a look of disgruntled sterness on her face. He danced with Egwene, and several other girls as the music swayed, and had to admit that Egwene was the prettiest of them. Still... She had held his hand possesively for an embarrasing minute after the music ended and people watched them with smiling tolerance before her mother approached and slapped her hand away with a single look. From the way Egwene stared back almost insolently Rand suspected that Mistress al’Vere had already told her youngest exactly what she thought of her dancing with boys at her age. Rand winced as the two females stared at each other, imagining how little Egwene would have cared for that. Marin swung her eyes to him and Rand had accepted the heat in them as deserved. “Mistress, no harm was intended. Egwene and I have been friends for years, you know.” Rand said the words quietly, turning a frown on Elam Dowtry who had been drifting within earshot since Mistress al’Vere approached. Egwene’s mother accepted them with a considering look and led her daughter away without a word in return. Rand hoped the incident would not cause any trouble. For himself or Egwene. He went to gather a share of the food and take it to the blanket where Mat, Perrin, Dav, Elam and Ewin waited. As he had done so Tam had watched him, frowning. Egwene sat with her family to eat and Rand watched them worriedly until Mat offered up a comment on how girls were usually the ones to make big eyes at their sweethearts. Rand defended his dignity with a cuff that Mat easily avoided, laughing. Mistress al’Vere had been looking at Egwene with a sad look on her faintly lined face.

The celebration had died down and Tam had long since retired to Abell Cauthon’s house when Marin came upon him. Rand had been sitting on the shore of the Winespring Rush for some time, his head rested on one knee, wondering if being an adut would always carry concerns like these. He wondered if Nynaeve ever felt like she had given away something special when she insisted as she did on being recognised as a proper Wisdom. The night was filled with the sounds of drunken singing from the other side of the river, but Rand had no desire to join the party. Marin was wrapped in a woolen cloak and wore her stout shoes, but she still made little noise as she strolled up to him. When Rand turned where he sat and offered her good evening she returned the civility with a sigh. After a too-long silence Rand decided to bite the stick and pull out the arrow. “I truly am sorry if I caused any embarrasment, mame. I promise I would never take your daughter’s good name lightly. It's just that before I really knew what I was saying I had agreed to dance with her. I didn’t think people would react to us as they did. I…” Rand’s fumbled apology was interrupted with a firm “Hush” from the woman cloaked in the shadows. “I want you to see something.” Marin held out her hand to him, palm down, and after a moment’s surprise, Rand took it. She turned and led him back to the inn, her hand was very soft, not leatherly like Tam’s but soft like a warm cotton shirt, a mother’s hand. He had almost stumbled as she led him, for she was much shorter than he and he dared not pull her hand up to a more comfortable height, it was a struggle not to bump into her back or stand on the tails of the cloak she held tightly with her free hand. As she climbed the steps to the porch he caught a glimpse of her neat ankles and his pulse raced. Marin paused in the doorway and released his hand to place hers on his chest, right above his heart. Rand watched her lips with wide eyes as she told him in a whisper, “Egwene is asleep upstairs with her sisters. Follow me, quietly.”

With that she turned once more and, tossing her cloak over a chair, bustled over to the staircase. Rand followed, not daring to think. She was a beautiful woman, slighter than most of her years, the lines on her face thin and pretty in and of themselves, her eyes as large and dark as most Two Rivers women’s, her round bottom defied his hands’ span. He hurried after her, lightfoot and bent-backed, her bottom right at his eye level, the sway of her skirts over her twin hills and the valley between dried his tongue in his mouth. He followed, not sure whether he wanted to hide the bulge in his breeches or show it to her. As she paused outside the door to Egwene’s room Rand had felt his heart sink. She had held his hand and felt his racing heart, and still led him here. Didn’t that mean she didn’t mind? Surely she would have told him to mind his manners if he’d offended her. Nonetheless, Marin eased Egwene’s door open and gestured Rand to look in with one slightly wrinkled hand. When Rand looked in he beheld the room of a twelve-year-old. Egwene was asleep on her bed, curled up like a little kitten. Her possesions were arranged neatly on the shelves, and the clothes she had worn to the dance were laid out beside the frocks and stuffed toys of before. Rand glanced aside to find Marin watching him with a raised eyebrow. He nodded his understanding and she closed the door softly, her arm held out in front of him to do so. Her breasts had been hidden from Rand throughout the dreamlike encounter, but now they were there to see. Her cotton blouse could not disguise their swaying roundess. He let out a slight gasp that widened Marin’s beautiful eyes and she beheld him in shocked, open-mouthed silence. His manhood was pushingn his belt and shirt away from his belly and his eyes were on fire with youthful passion. Perhaps she had known what she was doing to him, perhaps she had been innocent, Rand had not cared at that moment. He put his hands on either side of the doorframe and leaned down to kiss or be killed. In her shock the older woman had opened her mouth to his and he pressed his lips to her, tasting the wine and life there. Marin turned her face from his and in doing so bared her neck to him, Rand could not help but run his lips softly down that pale curve. She placed her hands on him as they stood together in her daughter’s bedroom doorway, and by accident or intent one palm clasped his penis as she pushed him back. Rand groaned and Marin jumped at the sound, looking desperately at the other doors in the hallway. Not waiting to see if anyone had heard she grabbed his arm and marched him to the door at the head of the stairs and hurriedly pushed him inside. As the woman shut the door that hid her embarassment, the boys eyes had taken in the size of the bed that waited them. Her bed. Marin’s bed. He spun to behold her and found her leaning against the door with her hand at her throat. “Rand, I’m afraid...” No more words did he need to hear. “Never fear, Marin. The passion I feel belongs to you alone,” he proselytised huskily as he advanced on the shorter, slimmer, older woman, “none of them will ever know what you are to me, none of them could ever compare to your beauty, to a mature woman with hips as slim as a girls,” he placed his hands on those hips and carressed them, up and down, the fabric of her skirt course, her quickened breaths ladylike to him, “to the taste of your lips, sweeter than honey,” he bent his knees and lowered his face to her chest, “to your breasts...” words failed him as he looked up to behold the conflict in her eyes. She leaned against the door of her husbands bedroom, her skirts raised almost to her knees by a boy half her age, a boy her youngest, prettiest daughter had decided to claim. Her heart was thundering in her chest he knew then, but was it from nervousness more than passion? He didn’t care. About anything but her touch. “To your touch, Marin, the softest touch I have ever know, theres is nothing I would not give to have you touch me again as you did just now. Please, touch me again, show me what a woman is.” Marin laughed softly at Rand's heartfelt verbal fumblings as she trailed a finger along her reddened lower lip.

The tableu held for one night’s eternity, the boy on his knees before the woman, then she trailed her fingers across his brow, brushing his red hair from his grey eyes and lowered her mouth to his with a resignation that soon became a wild hunger. As Marin kissed him, her tongue exploring his mouth, Rand wrapped his arms around her bottom, his hands placed on either firm cheek, and lifted her high as he rose from knees. Her skirt bunched against his belly as he carried her to her bed, her legs were swathed in white cotton stockings and parted slighly, her feet raised behind her. Rand laid her down on the bed as quietly as he could, praying that the Mayor would stay long at the party. Marin scooted back from him towards the pillows and he followed her on his kness, quickly unlacing his shirt, dragging it over his head and throwing it aside. She beheld his body in silence for a moment before drawing one short leg up to slide the stocking down it. Her breath came shallowly. Rand reached across to her, “Let me.” He moved towards her on his knees and placed both hands on her leg as Marin began unbraiding her hair, Rand drew the stocking down towards him and rubbed the soft flesh it revealed insistently. Marin loosed a pent breath and, muttering a curse, gathered her legs under her and pounced on him with the stocking still hanging off her ankle. She kissed him then as he had never been kissed, the kiss of a lover intent on sex. While she lay on top of him with her lips on his, her hands unbuckled his belt with hurried motions and his once more caressed those delightful cheeks. He grasped handfuls of her skirt and dragged it up to her hips as she freed his manhood, pushing his breeches down to his thighs and resting her weight on one elbow to see it. Marin looked shocked at the sight, for some reason. Rand touched the soft lacey pantaloons she wore briefly as she stared at him with those big eyes, the lines at their corners dissapearing in her surprise. He drew her smallclothes down her thighs, leaving nothing between their parts but the course fabric of her hiked up skirt. Marin looked into his eyes, and then rose to her knees to pull her blouse over her head. Her brown hair spilled onto her naked shoulders as the white fabric flew away, revealing her breasts to the eager hands of the virgin in her bed. Rand kneaded those breasts as he had often seen her knead bread in her kitchen, Marin shook her head and laughed low. “I’m too old to be behaving like such a girl.” She said to herself, but Rand answered. “No, you’re not.” Then he grasped her by the shoulders and rolled over. The woman under him was small, the secret she revealed to him, sweet and dark. Her hairs teased the sticky head of his penis as he climbed on top of her, his weight on his elbows. Marin ran her hands from his shoulders to his hips to his buttocks, making Rand tremble in pleasure. Then she parted her legs, one stockinged and one bare, and took him in her hands. She guided him to her doorway and pulled the tip of him inside.

Thought abandoned Rand as her pushed down his hips, thrusting into the woman. She wrapped him in her warmth and silenced his lips with hers. Her breasts she kneaded against his chest, her thighs rode his hips. He drew out slightly and slid in again. No experience on earth could ever compare to this, he knew then. Marin was whispering in his ear, “You must keep quiet Rand, no-one must hear. Bury your lips in the sheets if you must but don’t cry out. And swear to me, swear to me now that no-one will ever know this happened, or it ends now.” The last she breathed guiltily, but Rand only answered with his oath. “No-one will ever know, Marin, I swear it by the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth.” With that a change came over her, her pretty, lined face took on a hunter’s cast and she grasped his hair almost painfully. “Now fuck me, you young stud. Fuck me like you would one of those silly little girls.” With that she kerked her hips up and down once and dragged Rand down onto her before his cries of shock and pleasure could escape. She swayed with her pleasure and he tried to match her pace as they made love. In Marin, and in again, and again, though never truly out. Time stood still in that rythem. Soon his cock was bulging against her grasping womanhood as his passion built to fever pitch. She light creaking of the bed seemed incredibly loud and Marin’s gasps issued gutteraly from between clenched teeth. He threw all his weight down on her, crushing her breasts against him and wrapped his arms around her, intent on holding every inch of her body that he could reach. Her hair was a brown fan on the white sheets of the still-made bed and her straining face revealed lines he had never seen before. Her eyes regarded him as he stared at her, then strayed to his shoulder and the sight of his pale buttocks pumping up and down, he felt he saw hunger in those eyes. The thought of her wanting him was the spice in the wine and Rand felt his seed about to burst free. He gritted his teeth and choked out a warning, “Marin... Marin, I’m..." Marin giggled softly in his ear, then whispered, “So am I.” She set her thighs to his hips and ran one gentle hand over his buttocks, pushing him further into her. Rand wrapped his arms around Egwene’s mother, one hand clasping the back of her head, the other taking a handful of her mature, womanly bottom, he pressed his lips to hers and spent his seed inside her. Bliss. No word could penetrate that moment, but remembrance named it bliss. His cries she drowned in her slow-moving mouth, her cries she breathed into him, filling him with a sense of worth. He laid his full weight down on top of the older, smaller woman and let the waves carry him to heaven.

It seemed that he rested there for an Age, but surely it had been a minute at most. Marin slapped his bottom playfully to rouse him, “Rand, sweetie, you’re too big. Get off me before you crush me to death.” She gasped. Rand smiled at her fatuously and rose to his knees, his limpening manhood slipping out of her reddened and creamy vagina. Marin sat up and closed her legs, her chin resting on her knees girlishly. Rand sat back on his heels to burn the image onto his memory. She regarded him with a wane smile. Beautiful. But then the smile vanished, and the naked woman sitting on her husbands bed frowned at Rand sternly. She crossed her arms under her breasts and his eyes wandered. She held her silence guiltily and he asked the question, knowing the answer, “Whats wrong Marin?” She rose hastily from the bed and pulled down her roughened skirt. Rand watched the pale, lax globe of her bottom dissapear. “Best you get dressed now, Rand,” she said, reaching for her blouse. “And remember, its `Mistress al’Vere`. This can never happen again.” Perhaps his regret showed on his face, for she added quietly, her brown eyes kind,“ Not that it wasn’t sweet, it was. You’re a very handsome boy – man –,” at that she cupped his face in her hands, “but we have an understanding. Right?” The last was a demand. And one that Rand nodded to solemnly. Quickly they had dressed, silently they had bid farewell. And in silence they had lived ever since.
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Suspicious Arrangement