The Thunderborn's Destiny

Then, they simply stood there, staring at each other.

"Um..." the woman said, looking nervous again as she looked him up and down. He was head and shoulders taller than she was, and nearly twice as broad in the shoulders.

Hammer walked forward, put a hand against her cheek, and swept her auburn hair back over her ear. "You wish to see how we do things among the tribes, yes?"

The woman nodded. He bent down and kissed her, softly at first, letting her feel the stubble of his chin and upper lip, the softness of his lips, and the innocent invitation of his tongue. Lark accepted him into her mouth, and let out a soft purr as she tasted him. He began to withdraw from her mouth, but before doing so, bit down on her lower lip, just hard enough to elicit a little shock of pain.

She winced, but didn't protest verbally.

"The Uthgardt barbarians and the barbarians of the North have few things in common," he said in a low, throaty growl. "Mating is one of them. Our women have taught us well that pain can be as pleasure. It is only a matter of training the mind to translate it. Bite me."

She hesitated, then, leaned up to kiss him as he had kissed her, but a bit more forcefully. Then, she bit down on his lip, experimentally at first. He let out a sigh, but urged her onward with a finger to her chin. She bit harder and harder, until she feared she'd break the skin, and only then did he let out a sigh of utmost contentment.

Lark felt brave with Hammer now. She reached for his groin and felt the immensity within, burgeoning as she dug her teeth into his lip. That courage was slowly replaced by fear. He wasn't like some of the men in the company, or any of the men she'd slept with in Silverymoon before dashing off on her own, leaving her festhall behind. He was truly large!

The thought thrilled and scared her.

Hammer broke the kiss and stepped away. "Remove your shirt," he said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. Lark undid her buttons slowly, as if to put on a show, but Hammer intervened. His hands gripped her blouse and tore it asunder. Buttons fell to the floor, leaving her modest, upturned breasts bare and wobbling slightly in the aftermath. "Remove your shirt."

Heat flushed her body, adrenaline fueling her lust as she pulled the garment swiftly away from her shoulders and flung it to the floor. Bared before him, she felt her skin becoming moist with perspiration as the heat of pleasure and a bit of fear--sparked by this unknown force commanding her--welled up within her bosom. Hammer then doffed his own shirt, baring a heroic chest, boulder-like shoulders, arms the size of some of the company-men's legs, and a sparsely-haired, iron-crafted torso that beckoned her hands. The dark hairs were similar to those on his arms, soft and welcoming, but hiding the hard and violent muscle beneath.

She lunged for him, hands gliding over pronounced muscle, thick veins, and soft hairs. He let out a ragged sigh as her fingers curled around the front of his trousers, for her fingertips delved deep underneath, toward his hilt.

"Remove them," he rasped, and Lark, a normally fiery and aggressive woman on the battlefield or in the tavern, looked up with tamed eyes and parted lips, knowing full well that this barbarian would master her in ways she'd never even fathomed. The buttons came apart just as her blouse had. She tugged them hard enough that a few slapped against her body, one against her breast and two against her stomach. Ignoring that, she saw his smirk of satisfaction.

Gliding her hands around to the sides, gripping his muscular hips, she pushed the pants down slowly, kneeling with them. She kept her gaze up toward his eyes, so when she reached her knees and his pants were down at his ankles, she didn't see the virility fully.

But when she did, her mouth immediately went dry and her eyes went wide. Staring at his pride with awe and, again, a bit of fear, she slid her nails up his thighs to take it into one hand, just around the root of his cock. It was heavy, even mostly flaccid, and the veins coursing its length belied the size it could grow to. She remembered the shaman lady from earlier, and wondered what she must have felt when he entered her.

No command came forth from the barbarian towering over her, so she proceeded as she knew how. Lifting the member away from its vertical orientation, she brought the tip toward her face. A hot breath blew from her mouth, across the flesh, and it twitched on contact. She smiled a little, then slid her tongue out, sliding across the underside of his fleshy helm. It tasted as it smelled, musky and intangibly manly, and suddenly saliva was flooding her parched mouth. Closing her lips around the head, she swirled her tongue round and round, giving it slight sucklings in the process.

She heard the barbarian gasp and let out a low, rumbling groan at her attention, and felt him growing in her hand. Soon, it was half again the width of her hand, and still growing, so she began to pump her hand back and forth, slowly as she swirled her tongue around the cockhelm.

It grew further and further, and his hips began to twitch forward every now and then. She knew from experience he wasn't trying to force it, but was merely reacting reflexively to her attention. Lark also knew how to ease that reflex. Bringing both hands around his impressive, intimidating meat, she butted them up against her mouth and began to slide forward, her hands adding the sensation of him sliding further into her mouth.

Suddenly, strong hands were combing through her hair, pulling it back tight, but not pushing her head in any way. She appreciated that. The sunite had had her share of brutish men take advantage of her oral charms in the past. And with a cock this big in her mouth, she feared what would happen if Hammer turned out to be of similar tastes.

And, perhaps, he realized she was not accustomed to his size in any way. The thought made them both grin on the inside.

Wet, slurping sounds came from her mouth as his pride slid in and out of her mouth, each time going just a bit further in. Skilled though she was, when the broad head of his member hit the back of her throat, she gagged and had to back off a little, sputtering. She looked up at him with eyes reflecting her apology, and he smiled, stroking her face before lifting her up simply by putting his index finger under her jaw. She stood a foot away from him, but could still feel the heat of his cock near her stomach. She reached out and continued to stroke it.

But Hammer had other ideas. He pushed her back to the bed, sitting her down on the edge and kneeling between her parted thighs. Kissing her, not minding the taste of her mouth after being on his member, his hands deftly undid her pants. Which surprised her, considering how he'd removed her blouse. He took great care in untying the laces and parting them just so, so that he could slip them down effortlessly, revealing her pale, bare thighs and the pinkish, glistening sex between them.

She leaned back, propping herself up on the bed with her hands behind her, and watched the barbarian for a moment. Then he lunged like a hunting cat, his lips taking her throat in his teeth and lips before moving his lips slowly, methodically lower, spanning the width of her shoulders, nibbling her collar bone, and moving onward. Her breasts seemed small compared to the hands that moved to massage them, but that didn't bother her in the least. His mouth pressed into her cleavage, and the stubble on his jaw and cheeks grazed against her breasts in an almost decadent way.

She let out meek little sounds, chirping and whimpering as his skilled, soft lips and agile tongue moved to tease each nipple. He kissed and suckled and nibbled, spiraling around the light pink areola and turgid, impudent nipples. She was panting before he actually touched them with his mouth and let out a rasping moan when finally he nibbled down on them. He spent several moments there, enjoying and savoring each little bud before pushing her back and kissing down the flat expanse of her stomach.

She wasn't a hard woman, like his last mate perhaps, but she had her charms, she knew. Her stomach was sleek and soon glistening in his saliva as he dined on her flesh, licking and nibbling and rubbing that infuriatingly pleasurable facial hair against her skin. And her scent was rich, floral thanks to a lotion she kept on her skin, and musky with feminine desire.

And when he got there, he wasted no time. Hands sliding up her thighs, he pushed them wide apart when they reached their apex. She felt herself splayed apart, bared before his face, and felt a blush come to her cheeks as he stared at her loins.

Kissing around her vulva, she wondered when he'd get down to business when--Gods of Lust! His tongue pierced her vulva, sliding between her lips in the form of a stiff, fleshy muscle. Her nectar splashed against his tongue, thrilling his sense of taste as her scent thrilled his sense of smell. It wasn't long before he felt the stiff, turgid bud of her clitoris against his tongue. He lavished slow, tender lashes against the gem, then wrapped his lips around the upper half of her vulva, sucking her clitoris between his teeth. He gnashed it lightly, tongue flicking against it and swirling in tight circles.

Her hips bucked and her body heaved as the pleasure, so fresh and exciting, sent sudden heat and gasping pleasure through her body. She could feel her loins gushing her fragrant nectar, and anticipated the feel of his soaked beard against her face, kissing her, smelling and tasting of her...

Her orgasm hit like a thunderbolt, crashing into her so suddenly and abruptly that she could do little else than gasp and choke on her own breath. Her abdomen clenched, bringing her body upright as she gripped his shoulder-length, dark hair and pulled.

The barbarian lifted himself from her gushing loins, sliding his face along the woman's stomach and laying atop her. She could feel his massive, hard length resting against the entrance of her womb, and she instinctively lifted her hips to accept it, her heels digging into his lower back.

"I will not fit," he said, kissing her jaw line. He heard her whispering something and felt a warmth emanate from the woman's loins.

"You will," she said, and he knew it to be true. He slid in, sliding his member into the incredibly tight passage. Heat and moisture enveloped him, almost sucking his length into her tight passageway. She let out a pained cry, but pulled him in regardless. He felt choked, clenching his jaw and growling a rumbling sound in his throat. It was like thunder rumbling into her body, vibrating her to her core. Her body twitched, and she felt him nearly hilted inside her stretched and strained loins.

Her throat clenched and restricted her moans to strained cries of pleasure. Spurred on by her kicking heels, the barbarian thrusted consistently, his cock stroking every inner inch of the woman, stretching and battering against the threshold of her cervix. She was in pain and absolute pleasure, and suddenly had a new appreciation for how barbarian women mated. Sweat coated their bodies, and she was begging for his seed before she knew it, eager to feel the primal volume of his virility.

And he obliged. Drawing out of her, he pressed his body down, trapping his cock between her abdomen and his. Holding her face in his hands, he stared into her eyes as his bliss overwhelmed him, firing off thick, rich ropes of seed between their bodies, plastering her stomach and chest against his own.

She was in Celestia. Every sensation washed over her like a wave of the purest bliss that only the goddess Sharess could imagine. And, content to simply sleep after that, she closed her eyes.

Until she felt Hammer starting to enter her again.

"You should know," he said, smirking, "that barbarians are known for their stamina. You will be getting the fullest experience of primal lovemaking tonight, my Lark."

He thrust in, and this time it was much easier, though still tight as before.

Lark howled, singing his name into the ceiling with every powerful, filling thrust.

*****

Hammer awoke alone, and the sensations coursing through his body were unlike any he'd known before. He was invigorated, thrilled, nearly bursting with some energy that demanded action. He dressed quickly, further tearing the neck of his tunic in the doing, and bounded down the stairs of the tavern. It was quiet, with only a few patrons, Ellyet Ironsong included, dotting the serving floor.

The barbarian breezed past him with little more than a greeting.

"Where are you off to," he snapped at the barbarian. Hammer halted and turned about.

"I need a weapon."

"Indeed you do. We're moving out in an hour. Lark has already left to rouse the men," he said, adding a sly smirk at the barbarian. He recognized the look and marched up to the bounty hunter captain.

"I'll wager she howled my name louder than ever she howled yours," he said in a low, rumbling voice.

"She never has. I don't work with women."

Hammer stared at him in confusion, then started to scowl. He couldn't understand that. How could a man not desire a woman? They're were so pretty, so strong in their way, some stronger than most men he knew! There was so much to enjoy...

He sighed. "I'm not marching with you. Remember?"

"I remember. I changed my mind. Apparently you impressed Lark with your...resilience and vigor. I've never seen the woman so exhausted in the morning."

He flashed a grin again, then walked away.

"Where are you going?" the captain asked again.

"I need a weapon," was his only reply.

The air outside was crisp and cool, invigorating him as he watched his expiration mist in the air before his face. Distinctive as it was, he had a hard time locating the sound of a smiths hammer in the small village, but when he finally did, he was relieved to see a dwarven smithy. Likely from Mithril Hall, a clan of dwarves he'd traded with in the past, he hoped the dwarf could craft what he needed.

"Hail, good dwarf," he said, ducking under the relatively low doorway that led into the closed off shop.

"Hail yerself, lad," the dwarf growled. "Ain't you a little tiny to be human?"

Hammer grinned. He'd heard the jibe before from dwarves. "Indeed I am. I grow my muscles large to make up for my height disadvantage."

"Much like a dwarf," the stout fellow said, grinning under a soot-covered beard. "What can I do for ye?"

"Do you know how to craft a mordenkrad?" the barbarian asked without hesitation.

The dwarf narrowed his eyes. "Ye're askin' for a dwarf's weapon," the stout fellow said.

"I understand. A dwarven smith was taken in by my Tribe many years ago and fashioned many weapons for us. Mine was the mordenkrad. I've missed it greatly."

"Well I just so happen to have one in stock, but if I give it to you, you'll have to do something in return. A dwarf doesn't part with his weapons lightly."

The stout fellow reached under his counter and pulled out a cloth wrapped object about five feet in length with a massive head, spikes poking the cloth up at regular intervals on the smashing parts of the hammer's head. Which was to say, all the way around. The dwarf pulled the cloth away, and revealed the sturdy haft of iron, the steel head and the accented spikes.

"Not me best work, but it'll crack skulls for ye," the dwarf said.

"And in return?" the barbarian asked.

"Some o' me weapons been stoled. Need ye to find 'em fer me."

"Stole by what?"

"A dragon."

The barbarian stared at him.

"Relax, ain't no old dragon, just a young one. Catched me by surprise. Yerself ought to be able to kill it to death."

Hammer grabbed his hammer. "Dragon's a dragon," he said, resting the weapon over his shoulder.

"Mind ye that if ye think o' wanderin' off without payin' yer due, I'll hunt ye down and gut ye afore I take me hammer back."

Hammer grinned. "I do not doubt you. I'll bring the beast's head back for proof."

"Don't be dumb," the dwarf snapped. "I just want me weapons. Ain't no need to kill it if ye don't have to."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?"

The dwarf sighed. "Moradin's pock-marked arse. Ye barbarians are a crazy lot. The beasty's about a day's march east, deeper into the woods. It's a green."

"Green, eh?" the barbarian said. "Perhaps I'll travel with the League of the Falcon after all."

*****

Spike hammer in hand, the barbarian approached the gathered company of bounty hunters. Ellyet moved out to approach him, and the barbarian's smile sets him off balance.

"How much would we be paid for the head of a green dragon?" the barbarian asked. The commander stopped in his tracks.

"The risk would outweigh the reward," Ellyet said tentatively.

"There's a hoard of dwarven weapons, on top of whatever a young green would keep in its lair, awaiting us in the High Forest."

The elven commander stared hard at the barbarian. "I thought we weren't working together."

"This seems as good a time to start," the barbarian replied. At that point, lark stepped forward, a glimmer of fire in her eyes.

"I'll go with you, Hammer," she said in her silky voice. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a functional pony tail and she wore a faded white tabard with her goddess's face stitched into the front. A golden cord cinched it together over her battle mail.

"You can't, Lark, we're moving out," Ellyet said.

"To hunt goblins," she said dismissively. "I've earned some leave time, and I formally request it now."

The elf stared hard at her. "The two of you, then, against a green dragon."

Hammer grinned. "It will be fun," he said in a rumbling voice. Somewhere in the distance, a thunderhead was forming, and a faint echo of thunder washed over them.

A few other hunters spoke up, mostly leather-clad rangers with woodsman axes and short bows, expressing their desire to join their hunting party. Ellyet sighed.

"They are just goblins," he said. "A handful of us can handle them. Go, under the banner of the Falcon, and make sure you bring back plenty to go around."

Lark grinned and walked toward hammer. "Let's go, big man," she said in a low, eager voice, patting his rump as she passed.

*****

The rangers had set a perimeter around what Hammer discerned as the dragon's lair. It was small for what he had expected of any dragon, even a young one, but the heaping mounds of dislodged roots, tossed earth, and the slight stench of noxious fumes In fact, they were fairly sweet-smelling, in a noxious kind of way.

Hammer steeled his mind against the intrusive fumes, gritting his teeth and gripping the haft of his hammer powerfully, whitening his knuckles. Lark, beside him, cast a charm to protect them from the fumes, and he was suddenly thankful she'd come along for reasons other than flirtations.

The air didn't clear. Haze still hung, and it gave the sunlight a sickly green tint, but Hammer marched onward as the ground grew more damp beneath his booted feet. Wearing his torn tunic, the barbarian suddenly regretted not having his customary hide armor when the weight of a magnificent, magical creature's stare. Lark stiffened beside him, and he realized she felt it too.

Something rustled ahead, then a sound pulled his attention to the side. Nothing was there. Gritting his teeth, his square, strong jaw flexing, he felt Lark's soft hand on his burly forearm. Slowly, he turned his regard back to the fore.

Standing before them, one leg crossed seductively before the other, was a woman with darkly tanned skin, gleaming white hair, and large, almost glowing green eyes. Slashes of what looked like green paint covered her nude body, and sinewy, too-powerful-for-their-frame muscles stood on end under a thin sheath of skin. Her facial features were angular, eyes slanted slightly down and lips pouting. Her ears were softly-pointed to suggest at least a partial elven heritage. Arms long and sinuous crossed teasingly over her bare, immodest breasts, and the downy thatch of pristine white hair nestled between her crossed thighs gleamed.