Feldare Tales: That Sinking Feeling

He looked at her, somewhat aghast. "You are novices?" He asked. "The entire crew?"

She nodded, almost all of us. "Other than a handful of our Windir kindred, yes." She said, then she looked at him. "Myself included."

"What would lead you to attack a larger vessel with a green crew, Miss?" He asked, his face still incredulous.

She stared into his eyes. "We were aflame with rage over their sinking of one of our smaller vessels, an unarmed transporter of goods." She said. "The captain's anger overruled her mind, I fear." She raised her eyes to him and there were tears in them. "Think you that between our two vessels they could triumph?"

He nodded. "I cannot say." He said. "It is possible, I suppose, with a veteran crew on our ship and the special abilities that I have heard your folk possess." Then he glanced down. "But that is far from certain. Barges like that one have several hundreds of crew." His expression turned to that of a sour smile. "That is why we were fleeing them, though not very well."

The long day on the open ocean passed slowly. And the two conversed at points throughout it, discussing their ships and their operations, and the peculiarities of their crews. He told her about 'Dark Thedred,' his vessel's own navigator, a odd man with a penchant for drinking to excess and smuggling rum aboard ship despite the captain's orders against it. She informed him of Veldathan, an elven lad who fancied himself every woman's fantasy come true, and had been hewn down by virtually every woman on the Thunder Wing. He laughed and nodded at that, and told her about 'Lovely Uthgan,' a man of similar temperament, and luck.

"We thought your folk did not have women aboard her vessels, at least as crew." She said.

"Not many, no." Brannir said. "But, some women eschew the so-called security of home and hearth and take to occupations that involve more travel and risk, but also great reward." He chuckled. "I, myself, am glad for them to be there, it makes a ship more bearable knowing there are at least a few lasses about, even if they be as crude or cruder than the lads of the ship."

She laughed again. "Given the tales our western kindred speak of Coghlanders, that almost frightens me." She said.

He laid down on the planks, and grinned. "It should." He said, casting his eyes downward, toward her. "Though it is all bluster and blarney. Most of them are very much women down in their hearts."

She nodded. "I had thought this was probably so." She said, laying beside him, so that he could look into her eyes by simply turning his head.

They sat in silence for a long while, simply looking at one another in furtive glances and watching the ocean when they were not. The sun slowly tracked across the heavens, and was well into its descent when she said. "We will likely die out here, you do know that?" She finally said.

He nodded. "I have given it thought." He said and looked at her. "Though a small part of me hopes for us still." Then he looked northward again.

She smiled at him gently. "As it does in me, as well." She said. She reached out a hand and tentatively touched his cheek. "But not much, now."

He turned back toward her, and saw tears on her flawless tanned cheeks. He lifted his large hand and brushed them away, only to watch replacements spring forth in an instant. "Please do not yet despair, Miss." He whispered.

She sniffed, and regarded him. "I wish I did not." She said. "For I wish to ask for something of you that should not be asked in a moment of despair."

He looked a bit concerned, knowing she was a magician, and her abilities and needs were beyond his ken. "If I can grant it, I will, for my life is yours since the moment you lifted me with your magics from the frigid water."

She smiled at that. "Then I will ask." Desella said and looked down and her face seemed to redden slightly. "I would ask you to make love to me"

He looked at her with eyes wide. "Had you not asked, I would never have assumed to try. But, I would quite gladly, Miss." He sat up. "Yet, I cannot call it giving you a favor, by any stretch, for I am sure I will glean more joy from it than you."

She touched his arm. "Lie down, Brannir." She said, her voice suddenly very soft and warm. He laid down and turned to his side and she leaned close to him. The scent of spices wafted over him as she neared and then she kissed him. Gently their lips came together and touched, sending a surge of warmth radiating from his mouth. Her lips were incredibly soft, and he felt them part for him, inviting his tongue.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth, touching her own and patting it, and moving about to her palette and even over her smooth teeth.

Something inside the woman seemed to snap at the kiss and she took hold of his hair and held him to her, pulling urgently on the back of his head. He put his arms around her, sliding one between her and the planks upon which they lay. Her body came to him, pressing firmly to his. Then he moved one hand over her flawless back and down, over her thinly clad bottom, caressing the firm globe of her cheek. She was sighing into his mouth, and finally let go the intense kiss. "You have very strong fingers, Brannir." She said, smiling at him.

His hand still roamed her bottom and she seemed to not mind it there. He regarded her nearly white eyes. "Your loveliness gives me strength I might otherwise not have." He said, and rolled her onto his belly, with him lying on his back. She moved her long, slim thighs to either side of his waist and looked down at him. His back was getting wet, the raft sinking a little in the middle with all their weight in one spot as it was, not that he noticed.

"You flatter me even after I have decided to love with you?" She asked him.

He moved his hands to her waist, and slowly moved them up her tight, muscular midriff up under her loose-fitting half-tunic. "I am not flattering you, I am stating fact." He said, as he felt her ample breasts curving under his hands. He reached the nipples, and felt them already stiff and erect, and quite large. The actual knob was almost the size of the tip of his small finger. She gasped as he squeezed the nipples and cast her head back in pleasure.

He felt her hands on his own chest, pushing his shirt up and running her fingers over his chest. "I have sought to do this since you took your shirt off last night." She said, moving her agile fingers over the ridges of his muscles. Each finger seemed to have its own motion, he thought, and they ran in different directions as the hands drifted up him. She had leaned forward and was now touching his shoulder, then started to work down. He felt her shift her long thighs and move downward slightly, over his upper legs.

Her slim hands and long fingers did not stop, and slowly moved down to the top edge of his linen pants. She clasped his belt and unfastened it, then pulled downward gently with both hands on his belt, lowering his trousers from his waist. His manhood stood forth proudly, pointing toward the heavens. She smiled at the sight of it and put her hand to it. He groaned with the contact of her cool fingers on his swollen glans.

"Your kind are indeed large men." She said, stroking his cock with one hand, and using her other hand to pull on the front of her loincloth. It slid from her, over her private places and over its belt. She paused a moment to wrap it about his wrist and tie it there. It was silk and very soft. "I wish to not loose my only garment." She smiled as she knotted it about his wrist.

Her attention returned to his manhood, again taking it in her hand. He looked down at her uncovered privates, noting that the rumors of elven hairlessness were true, not a single hair, nor the stubble he had seen on Ghantian women who shaved theirs often, graced it. As he looked at it, it rose from his legs, and he looked up. She moved up a foot or so, and was again hovering over his middle. He felt her hand shift, and angle him differently, then he felt her wet opening engulf him.

She drove herself down upon it in one long stroke, forcing it past her tight entry and deep into her vagina in one long motion. Her eyes gazed over his head and looked distant. He wondered if she was imagining a lover in her homeland.

She began to slowly grind her pelvis against his, and seemed to like the touch of his dense pubic hair. She smiled gently as her eyes gazed at her distant lover, and she began to thrust him into herself with a fury, the grinding more obvious and the expression on her face growing desperate.

He took her hands from her breasts and put them to her narrow waist, pulling her downward and forcing tighter contact between them. She gasped as he lifted his hips and angled his pelvis to deliver the last remaining tiny portion of his swollen organ. She tilted her head back and let loose a yell, one that seemed at once desperate, and at the same time, relieved.

He felt the muscles of her vagina tighten on him, and sent ripples of pleasure through him, as she put her hands to his shoulders and kissed his lips as she rode his cock. "Now for your pleasure." She whispered into his ear. She began to move differently, rocking up and over his head, her tight opening sliding over his shaft, nearly to the point of him coming out, then ramming herself back down with such force that the little raft bucked with the impact. The action picked up speed, and she was soon moving so fast that he could not hold back any longer. His thick organ plunging into her tight, wet confines and he exploded into her. The grunted in pleasure as his orgasm ripped through him, and pulsed into his manhood, and he could feel his jets of semen spraying forth. She kept up her motion until he began to go limp within her, and she slowed. She was panting and looked down at him.

"Thank you, my lover." She said, kissing him gently.

He smiled at her. "I should thank you, Desella." He said. "You have given me a pleasure few men will ever know."

She grinned at him from atop him, lifting off his manhood. "Then it was well done, if we both beg grateful." Then she said. "You should dress quickly, lover."

He looked at her. "Why?" He asked. "The sun is low enough to not harm me."

She giggled openly. "If you choose not stay uncovered, your crewmates may get the wrong, or worse, the right idea." She said nodding north.

He turned his head and looked north. Moving toward them at high speed was the elven trimaran, with his own vessel in tow. He was amazed at the speed that the elven vessel could make into the headwind, without even tacking.

"How long have you seen them?" He turned to her, with wide eyes.

She smiled slightly. "Since just before I impaled myself upon your cockstem." She said. "I though you had seen me take notice of them."

He laughed, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. "No, I thought you looked to your home and a lover, perhaps, that lived there."

She shook her head, replacing her loincloth and grinning at him broadly. "I have no lover on land, and only one on the ocean." She leaned to him and kissed him deeply again, her tongue exploring his mouth again.

He held her to him for as long as he felt he could, then released her and they both looked at the ships as they were nearing. "But if you saw our rescue coming to us, why did you take me into you?" He asked her.

She smiled. "You think you are the only one on the water who longs for a soft touch and a eager embrace?" She asked him, in return.

He chuckled. "I suppose I am not." He said. The ships were very close indeed now, the trimaran slowing quickly and her forward sponson just aside of them. Half a dozen tall, dark skinned elves were atop it, and one made odd gestures, and the two were lifted from the raft and floated gently to the low-riding runner.

As her feet touched the wood, he heard her say something to the elf that seemed in charge, she was no longer magically translating for his hearing. He stood upright and put his hand over his chest, then scrambled up the long spar up to the deck of the ship.

He saw his own captain peer over the gunnel of the trimaran. "Hail, Brannir!" He yelled, and started climbing down the spar to them. The other elves that had helped them climbed up at the same time. Leaving just him, Desella and the captain on the small deck of the sponson.

"I am glad you made it, son." He said, grinning. "I understand you're a hero, as well. He clapped him on the shoulder. You saved the life of the captain of the Thunder Wing!"

Brannir turned toward Desella "Captain?" He asked. "You said you were the navigator."

She nodded and looked very embarrassed. "I am also the navigator." She said. "But, I apologize for deceiving you, I was not certain at first I could trust you, and then did not want you to not trust me."

She asked, "May I speak to your sailor a moment, captain?"

Brannir's commander nodded. "Of course, captain, and I am glad you are well, milady." He bowed to her and climbed back up the spar.

"Don't worry, milady captain." The Coghlander said. "I will not besmirch your name by spreading tales."

She kissed his cheek. "Do not be foolish, Brannir." She said. "You lost the right to call me milady captain when you spent your seed into my womb." She then kissed his neck. "You will call me Desella." Then she looked at the ships. "And I do not care if they know I loved you. It will naught effect my crew, and will only elevate your status with yours."

They climbed from the sponson and up onto the deck. The helm station had been rebuilt hastily, but serviceably. Scorch marks about the polished wooden deck showed his theory had been the correct one. She led him there and then to near the rear of the long deck, where they were visible to both ships. She then turned to him and grabbed his head, twining the long fingers of one hand into his short-cropped hair. She pulled him to her with her other hand, slamming herself pelvis first into him then kissing him deeply, sucking his tongue out of his mouth and very visibly letting it go, so that there would be no doubt as to what was going on to anyone with good eyesight. She then released him and grabbed the gunnel and leaned on it as if near collapse. Then she looked back at him and winked. A yell of joy emerged from the trailing ship, half the crew was on the forward gunnels and catcalling at the couple. He could hear his name being chanted by the men there, and no few of the women.

The captain of the Raging Dragon put his hand on Brannir's shoulder. "Come, lad, let us return to our ship, we have refit and crew rotation to tend to." And took him to the small dinghy tied up to one of the trailing sponsons. As they rowed across the gap between the ships, his captain said. "You're fortunate that the other lads on the ship do not have as good a spyglass as I and that elves are not overly worried over such matters, son." He paused a long moment. "Next time, I get to be knocked overboard with a elven crewwoman, agreed?"

Brannir grinned broadly and nodded. "Aye, sir."