Understanding, Part 2
I often wondered what might happen after our small war with all the
forces that Luc, Sarah, and Yuber could throw at us. What would become
of us, the assembled army at Orange Castle, representing fighters of
nearly a dozen different nations and even several different races. Many
will move on with their lives...wanderers like Fred and Rico will
continue their journeys, those with homes and duties elsewhere like
Jeane, Futch, and Sharon will return to those...still others will
probably stay here at Orange to live out a simple, peaceful existence.
Most of us, however, will be returning to Vinay Del Zexay or the
Grasslands...and this is what troubled me when I thought of what came
after this conflict, if we were successful. We would be returning to our
normal lives...but how could we return to them after this? For many, many
of us, this would be returning to our respective roles as one another's
enemies...the noble knights of the Zexen forces against the combined
might of the Grasslands' Six Tribes' mighty warriors. Would our having
fought together, died together, worked together for a future, have any
effect upon our lives once this was over? Would we be able to remember
the lessons of cooperation, coexistence, and understanding differences in
culture that we have learned through this experience?
Or would we let those lessons fade in favor of easier, more
socially acceptable attitudes for the other side that our respective
cultures bore into us? Our efforts here will never be for nothing...but
will the important things we've felt and learned be forgotten? And if
they are, what point was there in spending our time, energy, and lives?
These were the questions and concerns I'd ask myself, as one of the
leaders of this army, and of the Zexen forces. But...I always could
content myself with leaving the answers for later when none came easily.
These were concerns that I could deal with AFTER the next battle, AFTER
the next mission, AFTER the situation was taken care of.
Well, it's "after" right now.
Two days after, to be exact. The large celebration we held yesterday is
over now...its remnants already being cleaned and cleared away by many of
our members as we all face that question that none of us thought of, or
perhaps allowed ourselves to think of.
What now?
I envy our foreign allies. Hallec, Mua, Fred, Rico, Futch, Sharon, and
so many others simply go on with their business as ever, or return home
to their respective countries, their tasks done. They have no need to
linger; this is not their land.
It is we who live here that have to deal with the aftermath. And so we
are, in this endless meeting that the clan chiefs and the Zexen knights
have called. It seems, though, that throughout all the hours we've spent
in this small, cramped room, the only thing that has been ultimately
agreed upon is that Salome must journey to see the Zexen Council to try
to win their approval in signing a true treaty with the Grasslands
tribes. If he can do so, it could mean an entirely new age in how
Zexen-Grasslander relations are handled...we might no longer be hostile
rivals but nations friendly to one another.
If anyone is eloquent enough to achieve this, Salome is that one. But
unfortunately, I don't think the Council will listen. They're far too
interested in their own interests to do something like this for the sole
reason that it could very well lead to a new era of peace and goodwill
between two ages-long enemies.
Once again, the ability to choose what I feel is best for myself and for
those that I care about and am responsible for eludes me as others abuse
their power and cause misery to the lives of many for their own gain.
They are the reason that we never seriously quest for peace, their fault
that I will never in the foreseeable future have someone to share my
life with, their greed that results in more and more meaningless deaths
with each mistake they make.
Even before this recent dilemma involving Luc and the True Runes, I
think I was at many times more bitter to the Zexen Council than I was to
the leaders of our clan foes. Perhaps, since some of my bitterness comes
from my realization that they would do all in their power to keep me
from choosing a woman partner in love (which, due to my status, would
have to mean one of a lower class, which is the problem), I make myself
a hypocrite in a way...after all, they act on the same impulse, their own
pleasure, that I feel resentment from. Nonetheless, I do not feel my
minor wish for love and my concern for the well-being of our nation and
that of the Grassland tribes' to be unreasonable.
The meeting is adjourned for now. Each of us rises from our seat, and
filters out of the room, conversing with one another as he or she
returns to the business left behind, or perhaps to simply enjoying the
momentary peace of victory. Salome talks with Borus and Leo, who will be
accompanying him on the journey back to Vinay Del Zexay.
I don't know what to do at the moment. I'd like to celebrate, to relax.
But in this state, I just can't. I know I won't be pleasantly surprised
when Salome returns from his mission. I know that this is the end of the
temporary comradeship, perhaps even friendship, of Zexen and Grassland
fighters. And it worries, and angers me. I know that once we go back to
living as regular Zexen knights, many of those under my command will
forget the comradery...they'll let themselves fall back into the habit
of hating and despising the Grasslands "savages" because it will simply
be easier to do so.
And what frightens me is that I wonder if I will be the same. Will I be
able to keep my view of Grasslanders as that of real people, the same as
anyone, each important to those that care about him or her, each able to
think and feel and have worth the same as any other person? CAN I? In
the heat of battle, can my mind withstand the knowledge that every face
I strike down is as decent a being as any other, that every life I take
could be that of one who fought by my side at one time?
Distancing oneself from enemies, seeing them as lesser beings, or evil,
or both...this helps a warrior on the battlefield keep his or her sanity,
keeps him or her from being wracked with guilt and shame and sorrow.
It's the mind's defense.
But I don't want it to be that way. I don't want to lose the connection
I have with Hugo, Joe, Beecham, Lucia, Bazba, and so many others that I
have befriended. I cannot stand the thought that ignorance and racist
bias could very well return and replace the cooperation and friendship
that we have all experienced. I was never very hateful to the
Grasslanders, certainly not so much as many Zexen warriors were...but I
am fearful nonetheless.
My thoughts are these as I walk with no real destination. People I pass
sometimes say hello, sometimes congratulate me?nearly unconsciously, I
respond to them, greetings or modest disagreements so many times used in
my mind that they are practically habit.
Finally, I find myself by the small training area which Juan maintains
here at Orange. Perhaps it was mere chance, or perhaps I somehow wanted
to come here...but regardless of how it is that I have arrived here, I
realize that some sparring would be welcome.
"Excuse me, Juan?" I ask, loudly. I am quite familiar with how difficult
it can be to awaken him politely. Volume is the only solution.
One eye cracks open, and groggily fixes as much malice as it can upon
me. "Whaddaddawand?" he manages to mumble out.
"Practice," I answer evenly. "Please wake up, I'd like to spar."
Juan opens his other eye and very slowly rises to his feet. Looking at
me in utter annoyance, he grumpily asks, "What for? The battles're over.
Why don't you relax like everyone else and leave me alone?"
"Because I wish to practice. My battles are not over for long anyways.
And isn't constant practice for mastery one of the key principles of
Bujitsu?" I ask pointedly, not really in the mood to be pleasant.
Juan snorts at the thought of anyone lecturing him on Bujitsu. He raises
his hands, spreads his feet, and gives me a nod. I grab one of the
wooden practice swords from the stand, swing it experimentally a few
times to determine its weight and feel, then quickly rush forward to
attack.
Juan side-steps to avoid my thrust, then grabs my arm and uses the force
of my rush to fling me to the ground, twisting my weapon from my hand in
the process.
As the rough dirt bath my face has been given stops stinging, I glance
angrily up at the smug face of Juan looking down at me, a small,
self-satisfied smile spreading across his face as he carelessly swings
the wooden blade he took from me in the air a few times.
"Well, guess practice is over. Now leave while I take a nap," he
arrogantly tells me.
Anger bubbles up within at being spoken to in such a rude manner...but
before I can say anything, there is a sudden crack, then small hushing
sound. Juan looks down to casually observe a length of whip encircling
one of his legs. Without further ado, Lucia, who I now see standing a
few feet behind Juan, pulls hard upon her cord, and Juan is yanked off
his feet and lands face-first on the ground with a dull thud.
"I think everyone can always use some practice," she remarks dryly,
"regardless of how sure of ourselves we may be."
Her answer is silence, and after a moment I realize that Juan has
actually already fallen asleep once more in the position he landed in.
Though I'm still angry, I truly cannot help letting a small chuckle
escape from my throat at this realization.
Lucia bends and offers her hand to me. I accept it, and she pulls me up
(no small feat considering the weight my armor holds). I thank her, and
prepare to be on my way, but her grip does not leave my gauntlet.
I look questioningly at her, and she responds formally, "If the lovely
commander of the Zexen knights pleases, I wish to speak with her alone
regarding future relations between my country and hers."
I frown. Lucia has not spoken to me in such a way since before we became
allies in this conflict. I do not like the possibility that she is
preparing to return to her previous hostile feeling towards I and my
country now that we are no longer united against a common enemy. Already
my fears could be coming true?
I obey my duties, curiosities, and suspicions and nod. "Where do you
wish to discuss this, Lucia?" I ask, as formally as she.
"Can your room be guaranteed privacy from eavesdroppers?" she asks.
I nod. "So long as I ask Louis, he'll stay out and make sure that the
other knights do as well. Leo, Borus, and Salome will be preparing to
leave, and Roland and Percival are likely elsewhere celebrating,
anyways," I answer, reluctantly allowing a small amount of curiosity
take residence in my tone.
She nods in consent, darkened face taking on a satisfied demeanor. "Lead
on," she invites, and commands. Lucia has always had a fascinating
ability to give orders, even as small as this, and make it seem more
like a suggestion or request than actual command. She is used to being
in charge, and it shows, but nonetheless it seems often that her orders
are more polite than imperative.
I turn, and we go back inside Orange Castle and to my residence inside,
passing by still more congratulatory revelers in the process. As we
silently make our short journey, and as I meet Louis and tell him that I
am not to be disturbed in my room until further notice, I continue to
wonder why Lucia wishes to see me. Perhaps she wishes to speak of
possible terms for a peace treaty, but that seems unlikely considering
we just spent hours in the same meeting trying to determine such
possibilities.
We enter my ever well-kept room (Louis is quite a believer in having a
tidy living space), and I shut the door quietly behind us. I then
gesture to the small coffee table in the center of the room. She follows
my unspoken bidding and sits comfortably, crossing her legs as she leans
against the backrest.
"Can I offer you something to drink, Lucia? I have water, and I could
have Louis make some tea for you if you wish," I offer, playing the
polite host.
She shakes her head in negative answer. I shrug, and her perpetually
angry eyes follow me as I take my own seat. I cross my arms and rest
them upon the small table, and stare expectantly at her for a moment.
She simply gazes back, tanned face thoughtful as she observes.
Finally I ask, "You wished to speak with me about relations between our
nations?"
She nods, continues looking at me, but does not say anything. I am a
warrior, and no coward, but nonetheless the constant gaze is unnerving
when paired with her ever-hostile eyes.
"Well?" I ask impatiently.
Lucia gives a little start, and I think I can see the tiniest hintings
of a blush on her dark cheeks. "My apologies, Chris," she replies, "I am
just trying to decide how to say this."
My own cheeks color a little at my rude impatience, and I apologize.
"Hmm, apology accepted, Commander Lightfellow; however," she continues,
a small hint of amusement lighting on her features, "I must also thank
you for providing an example of exactly what I want to speak to you
about."
I look at her, puzzled, and she continues, "Misunderstandings, Chris.
Although there has been a large amount of fully-understood hostility
between the Grasslanders and the Zexens, the fact is that our history of
dealing with one another has been riddled with misunderstandings."
I nod in agreement.
"Chris," she says, the honesty of her words apparent in her tone, "I'm
worried about what will happen to us all once Salome gets back. He's not
going to be successful, is he? I could see it in your eyes during the
meeting."
I let out an unhappy sigh, and close my eyes as I shake my head. "No," I
confirm, "I don't think the council will listen to him."
"And things will go back to how they were," she said, troubled. She
looked me directly in the eye, her ever-raging eyes a strange mixture of
their usual anger now accompanied by regret and fear. "Chris, I'm
fearful of that. The constant fear and hate between my tribe and the
others for your country, and vice-versa...the misunderstanding...the fact
that neither side seems to be able to see the other as humans just
because they don't understand one another's ways. I don't want it again.
I've seen such an incredible change in how my people and yours have felt
about one another...I've changed as well. And I don't want us all to
change back."
I nod, fascinated that she's had the same feelings as I have. "I agree.
This has been troubling me, too. It's not that any of us want to hate
one another...it's just that it's so very hard to not do so when
circumstances of society and battle tell us to. The more you understand
that it's a human being you're fighting against, the harder it is to
kill them, even when they'll kill you otherwise."
"You are very wise in the ways of battle," Lucia notes.
"I don't know how to fix this problem, though, Lucia," I tell her
despairingly. "I don't want to go back, and I know it will never be as
bad as it was, but still, I can't think of any real way to keep from
reverting a great deal. My position makes it especially difficult for me
to feel neutrally towards the Grasslands because of all the pressure on
me to hate them."
Lucia is quiet as I finish saying this, once more looking thoughtful.
After a moment, she says, "I did have an idea, actually, as far as the
two of us go. And as leaders, our example would help to inspire those
who followed us to be tolerant and respectful of differences."
I raise an eyebrow, bidding her to continue. The Karaya chief does so.
"I think that we should...be with each other..." she falters a bit, her
blush returning from before in greater force. "Be with each other
intimately, I mean."
"You mean, have sex," I state. It's not really a question.
She nods. "Yes. In all honesty, Chris, I have always found myself very
much attracted to you...something I had difficulty adjusting to before.
My compliments to you in the past WERE meant to be insulting and
patronizing, but at the same time, I think I only made them that way
because I didn't want to admit they were true. So, I must admit this
proposal is not totally altruistic. But mostly...I believe that, if we do
this, as leaders of many, I think we would always remember, no matter
how difficult, each other in a more understanding and caring way. And
from our example, others who we command might also retain some memories
of cooperation and brotherhood. I will understand if you do not wish to,
of course."
I lean back in my chair to think about it for a moment. How strange it
seems, in a way...a few months ago, anyone asking me so straightforwardly
for sex would have shocked and probably offended me (in fact,
remembering my night with Queen, it did at least one of those two). Now
that I have a few experiences with it, though, it no longer seems like
some forbidden, untouched, avoided thing, and I can take such a request
in stride.
I shake my mind from personal feelings, however, and focus on the matter
at hand. Lucia's reasoning does have merit. Although my times with Queen
and Nei and the others have all been mutually understood not to be
anything permanent or done in the name of love, I nonetheless cannot
help but see each in a new light having made love to them. Yes, that
term does fit. Even if it was never intended to imply feelings of love
and romance on either side, in any case, each time I have been with a
woman it has never been a senseless fling, and in some small, strange
sense, I find that after the fact, I do love each of them. Not as
romantic interests, certainly...but still, there is a new light to them
for me. It's simply something that comes from knowing that I shared an
experience with them that was important to us both, not solely fueled by
lust but also by needs and emotions. So, if I were to bed Lucia today,
she would be seen that way by me from now on, as well...and social malice
and prejudice would have a much harder time re-inserting itself against
the Grasslanders.
And I certainly do not deny that I have likewise always thought Lucia
very attractive. Her face is well-shaped, her body slender, powerful,
and beautiful, her bosom supple and alluring, her hair a fascinating
contrast, bright against her darker skin. An interesting companion for
my silver hair and fair complexion, that is certain. And while Lucia is
many years older than I--records that Kidd once dug up indicated that
she was around 16 during the Dunan conflict, meaning she'd be around 36
now--her active way of life has made time kind to her. A casual observer
would not believe her to be out of her 20s, much less a mother in early
middle age. An interesting contrast to me once more, for my appearance
has often given onlookers the impression of a woman well into her 20s,
rather than at the very beginning of them as I am.
So...it seems that I agree with this idea. But even while realizing this,
I cannot help but feel a small pang of annoyance about the situation.
Certainly, I like the idea of making love to Lucia...and the possible
results could guarantee that some of my greater fears are laid to rest.
But still, after having a few nights shared with other lovely women, yet
always for a reason that, no matter how good, is not that of love...it is
simply a little frustrating that once again an encounter such as this
will not be one shared between myself and someone I am in love with. I
remember that my first time was with Queen, and that it had been to find
a small escape from one another's loneliness...and it had worked. But
now, I wonder if being intimate with someone else is not actually
beginning to have the opposite effect, and remind me instead of make me
forget my loneliness.
Such rhetoric, however, is not important at the moment. My decision has
been made, and the important thing right now is to act on that decision.
Besides, it's hardly likely that I won?t greatly enjoy this. "Yes,
Lucia, I accept. Let's do this."
Her eyes light a little, pleased at my response. She stands abruptly and
wastes no time in undoing her clothing. The simple garb of the Karayans
is on the floor in no more than a minute, and Lucia stands before me
with purpose, unashamed to show herself to me. All that remains is her
headband, still dutifully keeping her bright blonde hair at bay.
For my part, I have not even stood yet, somewhat unaccustomed to how
fast a pace she is setting to get down to business. Before I stand to
follow her lead, I take a pleasant moment to gaze at the body I will
soon caress. My assessment of Lucia's beauty disguising her age is
accurate through and through, I can see, and the person that stands
before me can claim to have seen over 35 years only by mental reckoning.
Her body, much as I had thought, seems not to have aged past its
twenties. Her limbs are alluring in their strength and tone...she reminds
me of Queen in a way, with the powerful muscular results of constant
training, but is nonetheless different--Queen is a true rarity, with
both the strength and power of a mercenary and the softness and elegance
of a noblewoman. Lucia has an elegance to her, but it is through her
strength alone.
I catch myself staring a bit too long at her blond-crested mound and at
her sizeable breasts. Though not large enough to be unattractive, Lucia
is endowed very greatly nonetheless, far more than myself and still more
than anyone else I have been with yet. I blush as I realize that Lucia
has provided me with a free view and that I have yet to reciprocate.
Her eyes encourage me to stand, and keep up their silent encouragement
as I labor to remove the many pieces of armor upon me. Although I would
never even consider neglecting it in exchange for something less
difficult and time-consuming to remove, there are still times that I
find the heavy protective gear something of an annoyance--mostly times
like these. As I struggle with certain latches, I can detect a small,
noiseless chuckle of amusement from my soon-to-be lover, which irks me a
little--Grasslanders simply don't understand the vital importance a
strong set of armor can provide in combat. Really, one's own speed and
reflexes can only take one so far...and once those prove to someday not
be enough, one's life will rest in how well one's armor holds up. My task
becomes suddenly less irritating and more prideful, a ceremony now
instead of a chore.
"I think you're actually going slowly deliberately," Lucia complains a
minute later, hands indignantly resting upon hips. I smile smugly,
unabashed at seeing her becoming slightly irate as she made me moments
before. Childish? Perhaps. But sex is, when all is said and done, a sort
of play, and I was just having some fun with it.
Fun had, though, I quicken my pace, and soon, my cumbersome metal skin
is strewn about the floor, and I am left in nothing but my fairly
uninteresting white bra and underwear. I consider undoing my hair for a
moment, as I usually do, but decide not to. This is, after all, still an
encounter between Lucia of the Karaya clan and Chris Lightfellow of the
Zexen knights--not just as people but as leaders. I somehow feel
obligated to look the part.
I take a moment and stretch, free of my armored confines, and notice
that Lucia watches with great attention as I do so. I can't deny that I
enjoy seeing her nipples stiffening as she does so and her breath
becoming a bit faster. It is gratifying to know that this beautiful
woman finds me attractive as well. Though she of course has said so
already, actually seeing this effect makes it more real to me in some
way.
At this point, I'm starting to feel quite hot and bothered in
anticipation of what's to come and from having Lucia ravage me with
hungry gaze as I do her. I hastily remove my remaining clothing,
revealing my own erect peaks to her. With little further ado, we walk to
one another and kiss.
The word kiss is such a small word for such a varied and intense
concept. One might think of a quick peck on the lips, or perhaps a soft
and slow coming together of our mouths, or a variety of other things.
This kiss was none of these. It was hard and strong, unforgiving in its
intensity. We did nothing short of grabbing one another into a powerful
embrace, and drawing our heads together into a like coupling. She
pressed hard against me, I pressed hard against her, and from the moment
it started our tongues were the central avatars for our battle,
thrusting, dodging, tackling one another to a battle theme comprised of
an occasional soft moan echoing through one throat and into the other.
As we continue our deep kiss, our bodies gently begin to press as hard
against one another as our mouths do. My arms around her, I hug her
closer as she does the same, both of us desiring more and more of the
pleasant feeling of our bodies meeting, pressing, beginning to slowly
rub against one another. Although a small feeling, I nonetheless enjoy
the sensation of my bosom crushing and being crushed against Lucia's
greater pair.
My mind turns its attentions from the post-war battle that Karayan and
Zexen engage in within mouths as I feel her nipples lightly brushing
against mine. Such a small feeling, yet the promising potential it
carries cannot be denied. I disengage from our kiss and our embrace,
taking a small step back to make a little space between us. Taking note
of her playfully interested and curious smile, I quickly bend my head
down a little and give a small lap at her left breast's center.
The reaction I get is a lot more than I had expected. Lucia gives a
small yelp and jumps back, startled.
I raise my head, puzzled and somewhat startled myself at her reaction. I
have very sensitive breasts, but I don't think I could give such a
reaction to just a quick stroke of a tongue over my own nipple. Why has
Lucia reacted so?
She blushes as though just realizing what she has done. "My apologies,
Chris. In Karaya, it is considered taboo for a woman's breasts to be
touched save for nursing...of the few lovers I've had over the years here
and there, I haven't had anyone touch me there since I came back from
the Dunan war."
My own cheeks color as well. Although of course there was no way for me
to know this, I still feel somewhat foolish. Of course any tribe that
had such radically different customs in all other ways from those I am
used to would have different customs regarding sex as well.
A thought occurs to me, and I smile, slightly amused. "This is a perfect
example of how so many problems start...one of us makes the wrong
assumption that the other follows the same rules and disciplines, and
the other misunderstands, and everything snowballs. I'm sorry, Lucia, I
won't touch them again if--"
"No," she says, cutting me off. "I definitely want you to continue,
Chris. It has been practically a lifetime since I felt anyone touch me
there. Taboo be hanged; it's a very nice feeling and it's not a problem
to bend the rules a bit to suit us both. I was only startled."
That settled, I waste little time in refocusing my excited attention to
her chest. She inhales deeply as I lightly kiss a circle around her
nipple, then give it a final kiss as well. She exhales as deeply as I
replace my lips with a few simple strokes of my tongue. I revel in the
feeling nearly as much as she; the hard, yet strangely supple and soft
stub is intriguing to my tongue?s probings.
This interest leads me to gently draw the nipple into my mouth and begin
to French-kiss it, darting my tongue against it while slowly sucking at
it. Lucia's body vibrates slightly as a contented sigh escapes her, and
the knowledge that I am doing well only encourages me onward. With my
other hand, I give the same attention to her other large breast,
caressing, gently kneading, running fingers over its peak and then
gently tweaking at it. All the while I continue to kiss and lick and
suck the first's nipple all at once, and that one sigh has given way to
the occasional quiet groan of pleasure at my ministrations.
After an amount of time I can only vaguely guess at, Lucia gently brings
her hands up to push my head and arm away. I straighten, taking an
earnest satisfaction in the way the light glints on her now slick breast
and how eagerly her nipples stand at attention.
"I think that's enough of that for now, Chris...thank you, it's been very
good to feel that again after so long. Let's continue, though," Lucia
states, smiling rather wickedly. She pulls me to her and kisses me once
more, and again we squeeze against one another tightly. I greatly enjoy
the feeling of her wet bosom against mine, of my own breasts becoming
moist from contact with hers.
As we kiss, this time with our tongues stroking each other more tenderly
and slowly than before, she guides me closer to my bed. Upon arriving
before it, she breaks the kiss gently, then descends down to lie
back-down on the mattress, head propped up by pillows. She beckons me to
come and lie atop her.
I descend onto her, careful not to go too quickly and hurt her, and as
my back presses against her body, and I lay my head back to the pillows
to rest alongside hers, she moves her arms to lay intertwined over my
belly, lightly embracing me as she equally softly lays kisses upon my
cheek.
"Mmmmm," I sigh--sigh? Closer to purr, really--as I lay there, warm
against her and content. Though my sex feels great need, I still feel
strangely at peace laying here in her arms. I have often heard of how at
home lovers can feel in one another's arms, and now I can fully believe
it (for this is my first time in such a position; my previous encounters
have ever ended with us being separate, and have never included such
embrace during the act itself). Just one more unnecessary reminder that
I have no one to call my own, to embrace and lay in embrace of each day.
This small bitter tangent, which I am instantly annoyed and ashamed at
having in the middle of making love to a beautiful woman, is quickly
forgotten as Lucia's arms shift, and her hands are no longer idle as
they smoothly, silkily caress my breasts. As I have noted before, my
breasts are quite sensitive, something that I revel in as she gently,
slowly moves her palms over them, lightly kneading them every so often.
I sigh again, this time in growing lust, as her touches become faster
and more stimulating. Her pace slowly but surely increases, and soon I
am groaning happily as she focuses the strength of her hands to
vigorously stroking and squeezing my chest. She gives a small chuckle
into my ear, and I realize that she is having a marvelous time doing
this--understandably, of course, for she has not had a chance to do so
for many years.
She lacks no skill, however, as she begins to brush my attentive nipples
more and more often with her wandering palms. Each time I murmur at the
nice sensations I feel, until finally she begins to rub the nipples
themselves between her thumb and forefinger. I groan loudly, it feels so
very good! Rubbing soon becomes nothing short of pinching, and I squirm
in delight at each one, pressing and shifting against her dark skin as
she gives me this lovely torment.
I let out a small yelp as I feel something new. I look down and see that
one hand is now flicking my left breast's bud repeatedly, and as I
settle my head back and focus now on the rapid, somewhat painful, but
extremely pleasing lashings I am receiving, I barely even register that
her other dark hand has left the pale breast it worked and is ticklishly
trailing its way down my body.
But I do take notice when it cups my needy vagina. A lot of notice. And
as she works two long, tanned fingers within me, my attention turns
almost totally to their actions. Oh, how wonderful it is to have them
within me, probing, pushing, exploring my inner being! The feeling, it
is so heavenly! I gasp and moan and writhe all the more now in bliss at
her skilled digits' manipulations...
And then let out a small, surprised gasp of slight pain as her fingers,
truly deep within me now, encounter my hymen. Lucia herself seems
surprised, and stops her actions for a moment.
"Chris, you are still unbroken?" she asks in disbelief. "I would never
have imagined this was your first time. You're so skilled!"
Breathing heavily and trying to ignore the burning need to feel her
fingers move once more as they lay motionless inside, I respond, "I have
been with others before...no one has taken my maidenhood, that's all..."
"Ah," Lucia replies. "Shall I, then? It's quite a nuisance to women
until it's gone."
"No!" I protest loudly, my half-lidded eyes snapping fully open. "Don't,
Lucia!"
Her fingers quickly move away from it in response. "I'm sorry, Chris, I
didn't mean to frighten you," Lucia says, apologetically puzzled. "But
why keep it?"
Calmer now that I know she will do nothing, I take a deep breath and
gather my thoughts. "To my society...breaking the hymen is a
very...important social custom between lovers. You are generally only
supposed to lose it to the person you marry, or are engaged to. At most,
someone you love very, very much, and intend to be with for life, if you
do not have adequate money to apply to the council for marriage."
"So you are expected to have it until you are wed-locked, or at least
wish to be? And it actually costs money to be able to be married?" Lucia
asked in surprise, and begins to slowly stroke my inner walls once more.
"How very strange your culture is, Chris."
"I suppose you have a point," I chuckle and groan at the same time.
Lucia is slowly increasing the pace in which she strokes me inside,
wiggling her fingers as best she can, slowly and more quickly with each
passing moment. "Still, it--mmhmm--it in a way, makes it seem greater,
more monumental, ohh, yes...when it actually happens that way...ohhhhh...
and I like the idea that you can...can...MMMmm...can have a tangible way
to show how special your first time with one you love is..."
It's a large relief to finally finish what I'm saying, because, oh,
Lucia is making me feel so good. She's now pushing her fingers in and
out of me in steady rhythm, and it feels wonderful. I'm starting to gasp
now, my breath isn't coming to me as greatly as I need it, oh, what a
feeling! She steps up the pace a bit, and soon I find myself setting a
similar pace to hers, bringing my hips up and down slowly to meet her,
feel her, cherish each touch!
She quickens again, and I match her, and again, again, until now I am
thrusting myself hard, groaning and even grunting as she pushes and
pulls away with what feels like lightning speed. She is savagely kissing
where my jaw curves, under my ear, and it's a very strange but nice
feeling; she is roughly squeezing and pinching at my breast now, and
it's a good, if slightly painful feeling; but, really, I barely even
register these; the sheer pleasure that she's giving my center...more and
more and closer and closer, and oh, so good, I'm writhing and thrusting
and I can't contain myself...and then she gives a strong stroke of her
thumb to my clitoris, and I shudder violently, crying out (as quietly as
I can, for this room is far from soundproof) as orgasm takes me,
pleasure sweeps over me as its waves of bliss inundate a thirsty beach.
She continues to work me even as I am shaking in pleasure's hold,
prolonging the great feeling until finally, finally, I lower and begin
to settle once more. My gasps are now simply from need for air as I lay
exhausted yet excited. Lucia's fingers leave my satisfied (for now)
core, and make their way to her lips.
"Hmm," she murmurs as she laps at them. "Very nice taste, Chris."
I see her angry eyes flash with a mischievous glow. "So nice, I think I
would like a little more..."
I smile, happy to comply, and slide myself off of her. She gets up, then
repositions us so that she is now on hands and knees over me, looking
(and breathing heavily, I happily note) down on my sex.
For my part, I have a good view of hers, too, right above me. The musky
scent of it beckons, and I can already note that she is very aroused.
Not particularly surprising, considering that I gave her breasts some
very nice attention (if I do say so myself), and then ended up squirming
as she brought me to orgasm right atop and against her.
I raise my hands, one to hold her firm posterior and get a hold of her,
so that I may then enter a finger of my other hand into her folds. Her
body shivers a bit, and I hear her moan as she moves herself against my
invading digit.
That's all the encouragement I need. I eagerly set to work mimicking
what she did to me, pushing the finger in and out of her wet cavern,
enjoying the steady rhythm as I watch her body move back and forth with
me.
I am so entranced by watching her response to my touches that I forget
about my own lust. That is, until I feel her tongue brush against the
outer portal of my vagina, slowly stroking it. I pause and catch my
breath at the feeling of her gently tracing my nether-lips with her soft
tongue, and she, noticing the pause, persistently pushes herself a
little further against my hand, reminding me that I've stopped in the
middle of pleasuring her. I hastily remove my digit from her vagina,
then add a finger and begin to labor on her again.
I have barely begun doing this when I feel her hands gently pry my
center open, and her tongue invade me in full-force. I manage somehow to
force myself to continue to attend to her, but oh, it feels so good to
have her tongue both removing my own moisture and adding its own within
me.
As she laps at me, and I groan and feel her groan as well, I realize
that although my fingers are doing a good job (if her sounds and feel
are any indication, at least), her sex seems to be somewhat more
spacious than my own, and that what I am used to being satisfactorily
filling might be improved upon for her.
With this in mind, I pull my fingers fully from her, and feel more than
hear her rumble of disapproval at the loss as she continues to devour
me. Breathing hard as I become more excited with each passing moment
from her attentions, I carefully draw all four of my fingers in my right
hand together, my thumb moving likewise to meet them in the center of
their formation. I slowly push my hand thus-shaped into her.
A shudder runs through her, and now she is the one who pauses
momentarily at the great new pleasure. I cannot help but press my hips a
little against her to remind her of my own need as I bury my hand within
her to its knuckles.
Once more I feel her soothing, enflaming tongue enter me, but now, as I
begin slowly pumping my makeshift fist back and forth inside her, she no
longer has the calm concentration from before, and her slow strokes have
been replaced by shorter, harder, faster licks and thrusts. Not that I
mind, of course, it feels even better this way!
We continue like this for a few minutes, small moans beginning to tear
themselves from us, I beginning to arch my back at the sensations and
she beginning to thrust against my hand with a little more force as we
continue to pleasure ourselves. Then, possibly by simple accident, she
flicks my clit with her tongue, and I gasp and jerk my body in response.
Of course, my hand jerks as well, and she quivers and moans loudly.
Neither of us move for a moment as we revel in the feelings we just had.
Then she shoots her tongue into my core again and strikes against my
clit with it once more. Once more I jump, my hand jerking within her. We
set a new rhythm thus, as she viciously attacks my pleasure's bud, and I
begin pushing harder, faster, thrusting violently into her as she pushes
just as forcefully into each invasion of her most inner core. It has
become a race, determined by who shall go over the edge first (though I
am unsure of how we could determine who wins and who loses in either
case), and as our love-making becomes faster and harder still, each
gasping and moaning, it's hard to say who will go first.
More and more, goddess, I feel like I'm going to explode, I can't take
much more of this...and suddenly Lucia holds her tongue to its target,
and hums. It's...it's unbelievable, I've never felt anything remotely
like it! The slight, yet massive vibrations rock me into orgasm, and I
yell, no longer able to care who might hear, shaking and writhing and
even bucking as she continues through the entire ordeal to cheerfully hum
into me! My fist within Lucia is no different, finding a way to shake
and buck even in so cramped a space, and as my orgasm begins to wane, I
feel her walls close harder (almost painfully so) on my hand. She cries
out, and now she is the one who convulses as I savagely twist and push
my hand within her as best I am able, until finally she calms, her
breathing becoming more measured.
She lowers herself to lay stomach flat upon me, too tired, I imagine, to
support herself any longer. I carefully withdraw my hand, slick with her
pleasure, from within her. As we lay, quietly panting and simply
enjoying the memory of what has just occurred, I look with idle interest
at the way my hand now shines in the light.
Lucia manages to turn herself around and scoot up to me, and we lay
together for a moment before she asks, "Mind if I have a taste?"
I offer my hand to her, and she laps at herself. She smiles and
explains, "I really do enjoy people's tastes. I actually think I might
enjoy it almost as much as the sex itself, somehow..."
Curious, I ask her, "How often do you do this, anyways?"
She shrugs. "Every now and then?there are a few women in Karaya willing
to bed me and to keep quiet about it. It's not that I'd really lose much
respect if I made my visits to them common knowledge, but I'm not sure
Hugo's old enough yet not to be bothered by it. He's really grown up a
lot recently, though, so who knows. Haven't been with a man for a long
time, of course...I don't want to run any risk of an illegitimate child,"
she explains. "A shame, for I do miss the experience. You?"
I give a slight chuckle. "Until we came to this castle, never. Over the
past month or two, though, I've been with some of our comrades...all
women; I don't care for men sexually."
We lie for a few more moments before she speaks again. "Well...I hope
this can mean something for us...our people...I hope this will help us
to remember friendship and camaraderie even in the worst of times."
I nod...then a thought occurs to me which I simply have to chuckle at.
Lucia looks into my eyes questioningly.
"I was just thinking," I respond, smiling, "How pleased I am that it is
you, Lucia, and not Sergeant Joe or Dupa who thought of this idea."
She laughs aloud a little at that and gives me a short, yet sweet kiss.
I kiss back, and allow her tongue passage into mine for a moment, before
she breaks away and props herself up on her elbows. Her kiss has left me
with an odd taste, and I realize that I must be tasting both traces of
myself from before and of her from my hand combined into one. It is nice
enough, though I can't profess to know why she finds such immense
satisfaction in these tastes.
She smiles mischievously. "Feel up to some more, Lady Chris Lightfellow
of the Zexen Knights?"
I smile back in the same way. "I do, but I'm worried that you might not
be able to keep up with me, Lucia of Karaya."
She grins at this. "Don't underestimate me, beautiful maiden. My
experience will be more than enough to counter your youthful energy, I
assure you."
"We shall see."
* * *
The sun is almost completely set by the time we agree, through mutual
exhaustion, that if some subconscious bond or pact can be made, it has
to have been by now. I would enjoy being able to fall asleep here and
now by her side, but circumstances prevent it. So it is that, tired but
satisfied, we both redress ourselves and exit my quarters, her to visit
the bath and I to find Louis (who, I can tell, is somewhat chagrined
whenever I visit the public bath rather than let him fetch hot water and
prepare one for me). Coincidentally, as we walk down the hallway, Louis
and Roland round the corner. Probably not so much a coincidence,
actually; Louis keeps as close track of my whereabouts and safety as any
of my peers do.
"Oh, Lady Chris!" he exclaims, "Are you and Miss Lucia done with your
conference?"
"Yes. We were looking into possible ties that can be formed between
Karaya and Vinay del Zexay," I answer, truthfully enough for my own
satisfaction.
Roland quietly sniffs and fixes his gaze on me. I have heard that elves
have enhanced senses, and I fight the urge to blush--I think he has an
inkling of what kind of negotiating Lucia and I have been doing. Well,
better him than any of my other comrades; I know Roland is not a man (or
elf) to gossip or pass unfair and hasty judgment about others' personal
lives.
"Well, have you met with results?" he asks, as serenely as ever.
I look at Lucia, seeing the small hint of affection that now resides
within her angry eyes, and feel a like feeling for her, the same small
love I feel for the others...
"Nothing concrete," I answer, "but yes, I think progress was made."
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