Death Takes Jericho

"You decided for me? But…I thought it was my choice…?" Jericho looked confused. "I was thinking."

"Yes, and your thoughts brought the deep well of your heart to the surface, easy to be discerned. I will not be the cause of any pain in you, Jericho. I look to your skin, more fair and fine then the silk you wear, and I long to touch it. But to do so, would be to steal the blush from your cheeks, and replace your glow with pallor. Yes, you are dead, but I need not take more from you than your life. I will not take your dignity." Death's eyes burned darkly with resolve, his lips a tight line. To keep from trembling? Jeri wondered.

"There is caring in you, Death." Jericho murmured, half surprised, and half like she had known it all her life. Tentatively her hand crept up towards his impassive face. She traced his high cheekbones, followed the fine artistic lines of his eyebrows and softness of his lips. Cupping his warm cheek in her hand she continued. "But I make my own decisions. And with iron resolve, I come to you."

"You are sure, beyond doubt. Beyond any doubt?" Death inquired, dubious.

Her eyes meeting his in connecting gaze, Jericho took Death's hand and placed it against the bare skin over her heart. "Nothing is certain, save Death, and taxes. And I was never much good at taxes." She said, smiling.

There was a look of surprise on Death's face as he felt the soft texture of Jericho's skin. He swallowed, and almost laughed as a feeling of nervousness washed over him. Death, nervous about bedding a mortal girl, it was hilariously laughable! He was death, who made the rich, the powerful, the high and mighty kneel before him, and he was getting butterflies over a mere girl, how uproarious!

Death easily lifted Jericho into his arms. Carrying her was no work; she was a small and warm weight against his chest. In the pale wall, another dark portal opened. "Where are we going?" Jericho asked, her voice wavering in battled fright of the shadowy, swirling chasm.

"Trust me, lady. We travel only to more…comfortable quarters." Death said as he stepped through the lightless cavern. For a timeless second there was only the deep blackness of a moonless, cloudless, starless night. The murk was palpable and chilling against Jericho's bare skin.

And then there was light. A lot of light actually, as they stepped into a room blazing with candles. The room itself was very strange. It was modern, Jericho noticed, with deep blue sheets, a shade away from black on a wondrously large four-post bed. And it was touched of the old world, with candelabras holding dozens of candles and antiques that Jericho guessed were priceless originals. The walls were wood paneled, polished until they reflected the candlelight like mirrors, with original prints of art gracefully littering the walls. Again there were no doors. The pleasing glow of candlelight glittered in Death's chocolate eyes as he looked down at Jeri making them seem to smolder. Jericho noticed that his gaze was hungry and wanting, just hardly restrained. She knew that at this moment, all Death wanted was herself, and a feeling of pride swept over her. Along with her delight came her own need, her need to be consumed in his lust, to give all of herself over to Death, to feed that hunger, and bring him warmth. Smoothly he lowered Jeri onto the bed before him. She sank into the depths of the softly layers sheets and quilt, he head resting gently on down pillows.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice as smooth as the silk she wore.

"Would you believe, gentle lady, my private chambers?" Death asked, sitting beside her on the bed, his bed. A thousand questions flashed suddenly through Jericho's mind. She wanted to ask Death if other ladies had spend time there, or elsewhere, she wanted to trust him, but there was so much mystery, so much unsaid.

Instead of denying her doubts, Death began to undress. First he removed his stout leather boots, well worn, but shined to an immaculate gleam. It wasn't quite like he was ignoring Jericho, only that he didn't allow a pause for her to question his past. Off his shoulders he pulled the dark and heavy cloak, standing, and putting it over a nearby chair. When he stood in only slacks and matching, seemingly normal dress shirt shirt, as finely made as her own contrasting gown, he gazed down at Jericho and spoke. "Now is the time to clear all thoughts, and doubts. You must travel this road with me, purified from all human questions, filled only with one desire. I warn you once more that once began, you cannot, must not waver." His eyes raked over her skin, seeming to delve into her soul, he would know if she lied, Jericho realized. His intense gaze urged for a response.

"I am ready. I am rid of all other desires." Jericho raised her jaw, slightly injured of pride that she could be read so well.

"Are you?" Death chortled quietly. "No… not yet you aren't. But, there is still time to guide you, delicate blossom." Jericho looked baffled at this. She thought she was doing a good job. Her features must have looked distressed because Death continued. "It isn't your fault, mind you. You will understand once you really do find one desire, why you are mistaken now."

Jericho nodded and gazed up at the man, she felt underdressed, and yet she wasn't sure she wanted Death to strip off his remaining clothes. She was nervous with indecision. But not long did the hesitancy last. Jericho looked up at Death, not as a being to be feared, or respected, but as a man. And then she realized, and for the first time believed, her worth, and beauty as a woman. Standing, looking down at her, Jericho knew that Death was waiting for her to come to him, meaning that he wouldn't push the envelope. She had to take matters into her own hands.

Jericho stood, on feet none too stable. She ran her hands through her hair, neatening it as much as she could without a brush, Death quirked an eyebrow at her actions from across the room. She took no mind and she advanced upon him, leaving all thoughts of propriety, and self-consciousness aside. She focused on the man, and that he was only a man. A world of understanding granted Jericho grace she never knew she had, she glided across the floor, as she would have walked before.

Closing the gap between them, Jericho twined her arms around Death's neck and mustered all her need, all her desire into one touch of lips. She pulled from her life all her loneliness and solitude, tears, and sadness burned and infused her lips with heat unmatched. Death pulled away in instant shock, purely not expecting this from her.

"I desire only one thing." Jericho said calmly, her voice resonant with strength that came from within her. "Only one thing. And only you can give that for which I crave." She leaned up towards him so that her lips nearly brushed his ear as she whispered huskily. "Make love to me, now. I am ready, and I want you."

Death looked at her with understanding, not shock, or repulsion as Jericho had feared. He allowed her nimble fingers to find the buttons on his silken dress shirt and meticulously work them through their holes. Seven buttons, she noted vaguely as she undid the last fastener, a strip of pale skin, from neck to stomach showed from beneath the dark shirt, contrasting favorably with Death's light complexion.

Without any hesitation Jericho slid her hands under the folds of his shirt, reveling in the soft, and supple texture of his skin. An almost soundless sigh escaped Death's lips at her caress. Emboldened by this, she reached further up and pulled the shirt off of him, and away from his shoulders. Naked to the waist Death was a breathtaking beauty, pale milk skin enhanced with ripples of soft hair, a darker shade of brown, but not quite black at his chest, and a trail leading down over his stomach and leading further into his pants. He was muscular, without being overwrought with muscles; strong without being overbearing, Jericho found it very attractive. She ran her hands down the length of his chest, running her fingers through the down on his upper body, touching where she hadn't dare with anyone else. Death stood with eyes half-lidded, enjoying Jericho's pleasure, and also enjoying the feel of her soft hands on his skin.

Where her hands once played, Jericho's lips now traveled traipsing kisses with delicate rosebud lips. Death started and uttered a moan when her mouth closed over one nipple, quite sensitive and only a few shades less pale then his skin tone. He found his hands clasping her face, and pulling her lips up to meet his. Passion overtook them as their lips met and heat seemed to burn at Jericho whilst ice seemed to numb her lips and make them tingle, she clutched at Death as her knees grew weak. Cradling her body to his, never allowing her lips roam from his own, he deposited her upon the bed once again, and crawled down upon her.

Their bodies pressed together tightly, and through their kiss it seemed as though Jericho was trying to devour Death with lips that would bruise if he were not completely yielding. Her hands stroked over his entire torso, and ran through his hair softer than satin. There was a fire inside of Jericho that could not be denied, not this time after so long, she felt moisture grow between her thighs. And Death, understanding this, made no move to disrupt her activities, he wasn't passive, but did not allow himself to convey, just yet, the growing hunger that began to feast upon Jericho's own desires.

Trying to consume him with her kisses Jericho vaguely became aware of the growing manhood that was pressing into her with their activities. Her hands, like butterflies flittered from his shoulders, down, to explore the fruit of Death's arousal. Frustration brought an unladylike grunt from Jericho's throat as she realized that pinned as she was, she would be denied the satisfaction of her curiosity. Using any and all leverage she had, she worked to roll Death down off her. That accomplished, was no small effort, even if Death didn't fight her off, he was no help, and was content to kiss, and that was all. In his silence he seemed to be amused, and ever indulgent. Once he was off of Jericho, she quickly climbed atop him in a straddling position, bending over to take his right nipple into her mouth, none to gently grazing it with her teeth, causing him to move against her in a way that was more than pleasurable.

Her hands danced over the bulge in the lavish pants he wore. They stroked and fondled by turn the mystery she longed to uncover. No longer able to remain a spectator Death moaned his pleasure, and growing need under Jericho's administrations.

"My heart, your hands up on me feel so exquisite" he breathed. As quickly, then, as a magician's trick, Death rolled Jericho over so that now he was atop her. His lower body pinned hers, and she could feel his hardness against the growing moisture between her legs. "Now, I will show you pleasure," he murmured before lowering his petal-soft, yet completely masculine lips down up on Jericho's. Her body stirred and writhed beneath his, hips bucking and moving to grind Death's sex with her own.

Death trembled and found himself moving with the girl, even though her faint dressing. He parted her lips with is tongue, and explored the honeyed cavern of her mouth, tempting and teasing Jericho's own tongue that responded playfully and passionately. Pale supple hands cupped her breasts, tracing fingers around her areola, dodging in to pinch the budding nipple, causing a low moan to rise from Jericho's lips.

"Oh! Oh, my!" she exclaimed in surprise and pleasure at the tingling and hotness that she felt. The filmy silk of her negligee fusing between her legs to her hot wetness drew Death's attention. He kept one hand occupied on Jericho's breast; rubbing and rolling her nipple between his forefinger and thumb whilst his other hand moved down the gentle curve of her hip and cupped the nest of her pussy, slick with her own juice. Death smiled.

"You are wet, Jericho, your sweetness has soaked through your garments." Death whispered seductively as he traveled kisses down her cheek, and kissed the tender skin of her neck. At his hand Jericho moan open-mouthed, her hands clutching the back of Death's head, and pulling his lips back to hers. "You will not mind the removal of your pretty dress, Jericho? It is pretty, yes, but what lies shrouded by it is a far more precious jewel." With her nod Death drew a line down the front of her gown with his finger, and the cloth parted. Her skin felt hot against his flesh, and as his touch, her naked body quivered.

"Oh! Oh please! Please!" Jericho breathed, her body twisting in pleasure. She pulled her arms out of the gown and tried to sit up. Death chuckled softly into her ear, making her gasp at the sound, and the exquisite feel of his hot breath in the shell of her ear. She struggled to free herself from his confining body.

"Please?" Death purred into her ear, "For what do you ask, do you know?" With every velvet word caressing her ear she bucked her hips, even if Jericho wasn't exactly sure what it was she required, her body knew. Death kissed the lobe of her ear, and trailed his soft lips down the side of Jericho's neck, making her tremble. His hand squeezed her naked breast. Jericho started with a gasp.

"I know what I want." Jericho said, matter of factly. You…just won't give it to me." She sounded affronted. Death lifted his head up to look into her eyes; he could see that she wasn't ready yet, as much as she thought she was. His mouth went abruptly to her breast, hot and wet on her nipple. Slowly he dragged his tongue across the rosy areola, making it harder and tight. And suddenly he moved on, lower. He kisses a line down her belly, resting his soft face on her stomach, pausing to tell her how divinely beautiful she was. And lower. Jericho cried out softly as she felt her lover's lips brushing closer to the joining of her thighs. He licked a quick line up the slit of her pussy, making Jericho jerk in surprise. He then parted the lips of her vulva with his hands, his mouth hungry to taste her and feast upon the warmth of her tender womanhood. With a delicate testing tongue, Death lapped at her clit, dainty like a kitten tasting cream.

"You are delicious, darling one…a simple pleasure…untainted and precious," he said softly, his mouth never leaving its task, working over her love knot at a steadily increasing pace. Before little more time had passed, Jericho was breathing shallow, on the brink of orgasm. Death redoubled his efforts, pushing and probing, lapping up all she had to offer, his strong hands cupping her behind as he lifted her up, closer to his mouth. He raised her depth and womanly core to his lips like a glass of wine, in which he choose to drain in one draught. His hands reached up to stroke her breasts as he stoked her fires below. The play of passion over her face was obvious. And all at once Jericho's body shook and with a throaty moan her body arched as she came. The pleasure she felt was too powerful to articulate. It was a heat, radiating off of her body as if she were the sun, and then a pulsating explosion inside her, colors flashing wildly behind her closed eyes, and then…then...the feeling of release, and...completeness.

"Is…is it like this with…all men? She asked coyly, staring down the length of her own body to meet his eyes. Death's laughter rang through the room, a beautiful and darkly melodious sound.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, doll," Death drawled with a wink. He stood and prepared again to pleasure his extraordinary pet mortal. With his weight off of her Jericho gathered her naked body to a kneeling position upon the bed. She offered her best, unpracticed 'come hither' glance at him, and tried to look seductive. Death gathered her up in his arms in a strong embrace, holding her and kissing her tousled hair.

"No, you must let me…" Jericho started, pulling free of his grasp, pushing his body down on the bed with her strength. She could not tell, but she thought Death might have been hiding a smile. Catlike she rubbed her cheek across the bulge in his expensive pants making his jump as if touched by an electric shock. Her hands troubled over the buttons of his pants. With determination she pulled the remaining button loose and pulled his pants eagerly by the leg. Death lifted his behind up, allowing her slide the slacks off with ease. He did not wear underwear. In his full glory Death lay, his member was pale, but impressive in size, although he wasn't intimidating large, like Jericho feared.

"Like what you see, my lady?" Death asked with a smirk curving his lips. She must have been caught staring at his penis dumbfounded. Jericho smiled sheepishly and reached a careful hand towards the erect individual. She touched the very tip of the head, lightly.

"It's so smooth" she said, perhaps to her self as she delicately rubber her palm across his shaft. Death sighed in rapture and made no move to stop Jericho's exploration. She caressed his member with both hands, feeling the tender skin, becoming acquainted with the organ. Death closed his eyes and relaxed under her ministrations. His eyes popped open as he suddenly felt Jericho's hot wet mouth enclosed on his cock. Stunned, he felt her slide her mouth slowly down, testing how far she could gorge her mouth with his organ. His hands tangled themselves in her dark hair, pulling her face lower on his pole, making her nose brush against his dark curls. Barely audible moans rose from between Jericho's lips as her mouth raised and lowered on Death's penis. Her tongue lashed out, licking lines of saliva along his shaft and head, making Death suspire in ecstasy.

"You are…" Death swallowed and cleared his voice, " a quick study, lady…you learn…swiftly." Jericho hushed him quickly as her rhythm drew steady and moderate in speed, she used her hands at the base to hold his erect cock up and to stroke his balls. It came natural to her, and pride flooded her as she saw Death, Lord of Darkness moving underneath her artful mouth. She wanted him to feel the pleasure he brought her, she wanted to make him feel that rush of joy. Jericho wanted him to come for her. Death began to buck up at her face, his breath became irregular, and she could tell he was close. "Jericho slow down, not yet." Death said with voice trembling with all the lust and need his body possessed. She did not heed his words, and worked harder towards his goal, licking and twirling her tongue around the head of his penis before plunging it deep into her mouth. "No, Jericho, not yet!" and with that Death pulled Jericho away from himself. Her fingers clung to his flesh, raking his hips with her nails as she clung to him.

If Death felt pain at the act he gave no sigh. He only tossed her on the bed before him. There were no sweet words for Jericho, only the gaze of Death's eyes as he looked down upon her face. Russet orbs, but darker with his dark desires, there was little soften in his glance and the lusty darkness that slid within his gaze. He had turned predator, on hands and knees he moved around Jericho almost sharkishly.

"I'm…sorry Death, I didn't mean t- " his mouth stopped words dead on her lips. He fed from her, mouth hard and uncompromising on hers, his tongue stabbing into her mouth, taking what she would give, and delving deeper to take all of her. There was no fear in Jericho, strangely, only an ever-rising desire. Again, Death parted her legs, but this time did not lower his head. He poised his raging cock above the nest of softly curling hair.

"This may pain you. Be steadfast." Death said in a husky, hoarse whisper. He entered Jericho in one swift motion. As he broke through her hymen, his teeth found the sensitive part of her neck, and he bit causing her bittersweet pleasure to rival the pain of her virginity broken. Jericho sounded out in a loud, shaky cry. It burned, inside her, it hurt and she felt broken. Her hand went between her legs, and she saw blood upon her fingertips. Death gave her but a moment to feel her pain. He began a steady rocking motion, gentle, but firm, entering her and pushing his member deeply into her flesh. Before she knew it, Jericho's pain was only a memory, this pleasure at being possessed in such a way, at being truly complete and belonging to someone made her so joyous that tears threatened to spring forth from her tawny eyes. Death's whisper fell to her ears "Move with me," he commanded. Jericho began to pump her body with his, which made the feeling much more intense, to have her body moving with and against his, skin brushing skin. After an indeterminable amount of time, Death pulled out of her.