Nuë and the Djinn Ch. 01

The ifrit grunted, sliding into her heat, tight. She was tense, almost too closed. His finger entered her pussy, careful of her barrier, his thumb on her clit but not moving as he began to thrust. Good. His cock was being pleasured. He grunted lightly, leaning down to smell her, her skin soft, her fragile form. Everything about her was pleasing, round limbs and nipples, the vulnerable flesh between her legs and being inside her. Being inside her was all he had thought about for so long that he almost didn't believe he had finally arrived.

He began to thrust deeper, letting her adjust. She was still tense, still struggling, but his strength was many times hers. He enjoyed it, his lust rising, beginning to pump into her faster. The haze came as it did for his kind, his hips thrusting sharply, digging into her. It had been so long.

He was past thought now, enjoying everything about her. Her smell, the look of her delicate back, her gold hair across the colorful cushions. His cock in the roundness of her ass. The feel of her tightness, slick heat and pressure. He began pumping his finger in and out of her pussy, staying gentle, listening to her, his thumb lifting her clit, rubbing as he felt his peak coming.

She arched and began to come under him, her round ass jutting, pulling him even deeper. He surged with lust, thrusting as she clamped on his finger, shivering under him, rigid. His own pleasure arrived. He voiced it, her cries muffled behind his hand. Then it was only that, his eyes closing as he flexed, his cock surging and then emptying into her, flexing again. So good. He couldn't help grunting deeply, giving another low cry of pleasure as he stilled, panting.

He closed his eyes, the sensations going all through his body, finally sated, at least for now. They hadn't joined, but he hadn't expected it. The sex was necessary. And he hadn't broken her barrier. She could keep her necklace. He would perform this ritual with her in the morning, which would please her.

She was still under him. He withdrew his hand from her mouth, slowly pulling out of her. He moved off her body. She drew onto her side, her hair following, her knees coming up. He brought his body behind her, coming close. Pushing up on his elbow, he drew her hair from her face. She was staring straight ahead. He caressed her cheek.

He got up, cleaning himself. She rose when he returned, going to the water basin and washing. He was sleepy. He realized he had taken her on the cushions around the fire instead of the bed. He had been impatient. He went and got her, bringing her to the bed. He put her on her side and lay facing her back, his forehead resting on her head, stirring such feelings in him. Content for now, here with her.

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The ifrit woke. Nuë was in front of him and it was deep night. She was silent, but her body was shaking. He reached, putting her on her back, leaning over her. Her warm golden eyes were swimming, her spirit staring out at him, distressed. In pain. She was leaking salt, the mineral of which her body was partly made, that held her spirit to it. He was surprised to see that her light was clouded.

"Is your body in pain, Nuë?" he asked her, wiping more wetness away.

The tears were coming more as he checked her carefully, always so tiny, her small hands and round arms, her breasts, sweet belly, his cock stiffening, her hips and knees, the golden hair between her legs. He turned her over and she tensed, going still, shaking in a different way now. He had frightened her, he realized, taking her like that for the first time. He stroked her hair, comforting her, continuing to check her, not seeing anything. When he turned her over, he realized it was a pain in her spirit.

She reached for the necklace, her fingers on the clasp, and he stopped her hand. "I didn't take you here," he said, putting his hand between her legs, cupping her pussy.

"It doesn't matter," she said, her voice husky. She drew it off and set it aside.

He let her, but this only made her distress worse. He drew her back in front of him. He was aware of her smell, her softness. He was trying to soothe her, running his hands over her warm curves, arousing him more.

The sex was necessary, the only way to the joining. It occurred to him that since she had said it didn't matter to her and taken the necklace off, then there was nothing stopping him from taking her pussy. His reasoning was a little hazy on this point, but he went with it, wanting to be closer to her. His hands went to her breasts to prepare her. He was squeezing her nipples, rolling them in his fingers. He felt her respond to him, his incora.

He squeezed the buds and then his hand went between her legs. She was tender there, so sensitive, his large fingers gentle on the silky and fragile pouch that would take him, the small swollen nub, stiff, that he stroked. His cock was aching again, full of pressure. She was ready for him, her little pussy slick, slippery and swollen. Since being put on her stomach had frightened her, he turned her onto her back.

Spreading her legs and lining himself up, he looked down, watching his cock enter her. He pushed her knee up, liking the angle as he pressed. He put her other knee up, his body braced, still watching where they joined as he began to press and then to thrust. She yielded and her pussy clung to his cock, dragging his length. He was stabbing into her. His heat rose, his lust. Tight and slippery pressure, warmth and softness.

He pushed through this barrier that meant so much to them, grunting softly, feeling a surge, breaking it. She was his whether she knew it yet or not. She was squirming, crying out. Sex was like the joining, as close as he was going to get for now. It would help her, bring her closer to understanding. He felt a wave of anticipation.

Straightening, he got on his knees, sliding her to him with his hands on her hips. He lifted her ass onto his knees, still inside her, excited, thrusting lightly. He watched his cock go into her tightness, taking his hand and spreading her lower lips, her pussy so pretty. He wanted to feel her come on him. He played with the tenderness above where he entered her, his whole lower half awash in pleasure. His other hand went to her nipples. He pushed down on the nub, letting her feel his cock, letting her feel the friction as he thrust fast and deep.

He felt her respond, felt her tense, little pulses rippling on his cock as he began to thrust in earnest. His spirit reached out to hers, but her light hadn't cleared, still clouded and dimmed, avoiding his. He paused, looking up at her face for the first time. She was still crying.

She came, arching against him, spreading her legs. He lost all of it, getting over her and bracing himself, thrusting into her, feeling everything on his cock as she clamped. He thrust through it, listening to her, her voice full of need.

It brought his own pleasure, sweeping through him strong as he voiced it, releasing into her, so strong. He felt for her spirit, for her brightness, wanting that badly. He brought himself close, making the offer. But she withdrew even in her pleasure, retreating from him as she hadn't before. Then he was panting over her. His body was sated again, but his spirit still looked for hers, unfulfilled, his chest empty. His head bowed to touch his forehead to hers.

He slowly drew out of her, watching her. She didn't look at him, turning on her side, closing her eyes, but they still leaked. He sat and watched her as she finally fell asleep. Her hair had fallen across her face. He reached, pushing it back, and caressed her cheek.