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 camaraderie…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 breast 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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