One of Us

"Kontarian rituals, man." Should have seen that coming, really. She leaned against one of the trees and looked at him with glee, when a sudden realisation struck her with sheer horror.

"Aerin?"

"What's happened?"

"All those people at the gathering... are they assuming that you're going to give me berries or the dick?"

He shrugged. "Haedde could have given you some fruit right there on the Ritual Field, no? It's kind of obvious."

"But. Like." Her voice was remarkably tiny. "All those village elders were there. And your friends."

"Yeah?"

"And your parents." Oh gods fucking above. 'I suspected you'd like to.' 'You two don't need to hurry.'

Forced now to consider something he'd been taking for granted, he blushed a little bit and rubbed his neck. "Gabrielle, we're fully grown, and we're a couple. Literally nobody here thinks that we just hold hands when we're alone."

She now sort of wanted to sail even farther away, and breed goats in the mountains somewhere, and never to be seen or heard from again. She'd been brought up to be chaste and undefiled by desire, to serve her family well. And even after that desire awakened in her nonetheless, and she chose to heed its call, it always had to follow a secret path, of furtive looks and whispered conversations and climbing up windows in the dead of night. And no matter how much she rebelled against it, the shame was always there, crouched like a cold toad on the bottom of her mind, a silent reproach planted by all those goodly priests and tutors and nannies that she'd looked up to in her childhood.

To be openly acknowledged as a sexual being, so publicly and so casually, was not at all something she had the mental tools to deal with.

He watched her, surprised. Clearly, there was a lot about Harmen girls that he still needed to learn. She was one of the bravest people he'd ever met. She'd walked her own forbidden path in the Kingdom. When push came to shove she challenged Harmen, stood up to it, saved both him and herself from its clutches, the danger of death be damned. And now here she stood, eyes shining bright against crimson skin, embarrassed to her core like a teased kid.

He felt bad for her, but without a doubt this was the most fiercely adorable thing he'd ever seen.

"Hey, come here." He hugged her close, kissed the top of her head, and rocked her gently. "Oh no, poor girl's dark secret is out. Now everyone knows she enjoys her some cock."

"Gah!"

"She probably even likes it when you touch her clit! No doubt she even touches it herself, thinking about naked people! Wow, what a terrible pastime that's also enjoyed by nearly everyone else, Gabrielle you giant dork!"

"Will you shut the fuck up?" She was chortling again, which considerably weakened her request.

He let her go and seized at the lacing of her dress. All it took was one knot to untie, one buckle to undo, and off the slight thing went. Fucking hell, taking off a proper Harmen gown took about half a secret rendezvous. They could still hear distant music from the Ritual Field. She looked around, to make sure nobody was coming. Embarrassment still gnawed at her, but arousal was rearing up strong.

The cloth band that supported her breasts offered no resistance either. It came undone behind her back, and then furled away; she felt like a gift unwrapped. He greeted her breasts with a greedy smile and a fond little squeeze. She put her hands flat against the bark and sighed softly as he pulled down her underwear. This was a feeling she'd always liked, of fabric dragged eagerly down her thighs. It was the point of no return for good times.

Having freed her of her clothes, he stepped back a few paces. He folded his hands on his chest and chewed on his lip.

She was slouched back against the tree a little, the corners of her pelvis bucked sharp forward. It was clearly unnecessary for her to be as gorgeous as she was; it was a luxury of nature, completely extra. From her graceful legs to her full breasts to the edges of her cheekbones to her fair hair, she embodied a raw and overpowering feminine glory. But on top of that there were the runes, the letters of his homeland imprinted on that body, on that peak achievement of Harmen. And that truly made him burn.

There was something possessive about this feeling, and he wasn't even sorry. These letters meant that he'd swayed this foreign girl, that this strange and powerful creature was becoming more similar to him, that he and what he stood for was now a part of her identity. And then there was the pure side to his excitement -- a simple happiness that she'd found her place. He knew her, and he knew this land. She'd thrive here. He'd helped her get home. She may have had Harmeni blood, but like many unsuspecting people all around the world, she had a Kontarian heart.

"Don't slouch," he said suddenly. "Stand proud." She gave him a needling little scowl. "You're fucking gorgeous and you own this place. There's nothing in this world grander than you naked. Stand fucking proud."

She rolled her eyes, but the edge in his voice plunged deep into her. There was conviction there, absolutely irrefutable. Something inside her responded.

He clenched his teeth. There was this look in her eyes, scrutinizing, playful and domineering. There was the lively wilfulness in the slant of her shoulders. There was that swift spright start that her breasts did when she moved. Unbearable. Harrowing. He couldn't.

He rushed at her, and before she knew what was happening he grabbed her shoulders and her knees and swooped her off the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and the world blurred as he whirled around and brought her out under the open sky.

"Hey!" he shouted at the clouds. "Hey spirits! Fiery Ones, Shimmering Ones, Quaint Ones, Low Ones! Have you seen our new girl? Have you ever seen anyone so fucking awesome?!" Wind bustled in the treetops. Sparse raindrops dipped on his face. He looked down at her and tossed her up in his hands. "You're making the sky wet," he said.

His voice was normally mild and pleasant. It wasn't difficult to get an embarrassed blush out of him -- something she liked to take advantage of, because those were wicked cute. But he absolutely was a passionate person within, capable of vibrant emotions. When the inner fire is burning, creatures of passion can be unyielding, acting as if possessed. Right at that moment, Aerin was positively ablaze.

He leaned down and dropped her on the ground. She flinched as her hands and buttocks landed on the soggy grass, but her attention was quickly drawn back to him. He undid his belt and pulled his shirt over his head; she watched the play of his abs as his body briefly stretched and twisted. Now successfully bare-chested, he chucked the shirt aside and swiped the mess of his auburn hair aside. He kicked off his shoes and trousers with about two decisive moves. Normally all those clothes would try to slow him down, but at that moment they obeyed him perfectly. The universe knew better than to oppose him, at least until he took out his energy on something.

Gabrielle realised that the something was her. Her entire body trilled with excitement. She wasn't even aware of it, but she lowered her head, and her widened pupils really brought out the light in her eyes, and her face set into a smile that was very slight and yet extraordinarily intense.

Scholars have named this phenomenon the "fuck me eyes." It did utterly nothing to calm him down.

He dropped to his knees by her side, and she followed with great interest the jolt that it gave to the jutting bulge in his underwear. She expected another hug, but instead he put his hands on her shoulders, pinned her to the ground, straddled her, and with his mouth helped himself to her breasts.

This further contact with damp ground made her skin break out with gooseflesh, and he smiled as his lips traced the tiny hard bumps on her lovely, soft warmth. He took her nipple in his mouth. She moaned, closed her eyes, and the back of her head fell heavy on the grass. He took turns sucking her and tickling the nub with the tip of his tongue -- when suddenly, a snapping stick somewhere nearby made her eyes shoot open.

"Aerin," she whispered. "What if someone comes by?"

He let go of her nipple and landed an overbearing kiss on her breastbone. "They'll know that we're here and won't bother us."

"How could anyone know we're here?"

He straightened up. His lips, chin and throat were stained with her body paint, like a predator stained with his prey's gore. He gave her a bright, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you'll be loud."

Her laughter was a little enthusiastic, and a little outraged. "Boy, you're being quite insolent today."

He cocked his head. "Is that courtly vocabulary? Are we feeling high and mighty?" She slapped at his chest. He grabbed her wrists and pressed them to the ground. She couldn't stop laughing. She writhed and struggled under his grip, and to her satisfaction found how much stronger he was. His torso was hunched up above her, bulking up his lean frame. His muscles were clearly defined against his skin. His chest was flexed, casually overpowering her attempts. She eventually stopped moving, and lay more or less calm. She felt warmth and wetness between her legs. Sweet merciful gods, she needed him to fuck her so bad.

Above her, he shot her a relaxed smile. "Are you done? Will you be a good girl now?"

He was so worked up under that surface calmness. His face could mask it, but the oblong bulge of his underwear, now seeping liquid through the fabric at its end, would not. There was only one thing she could do. Work him up even more.

"Never," she snarled out. His smile broke into a gleeful grin.

"Yeah, that's my girl!" he said, let her go, and tousled the shit out of her hair. "She'll fucking never let anyone bully her!" Laughter choked her, and all defence she undertook was vaguely raising her hands above her face. He swept her hair away, kissed her, and stood up.

"Okay, stay there. If you won't act right, I'll just make you."

She rolled over, wheezed, and knelt up. The drizzle was slowly intensifying. "What has gotten into your idiot head now?" He walked over to the tree where he'd undressed her, and picked up the banderole. "What are you doing?"

He got back, knelt down behind her, grabbed her wrists, and pushed them up to her shoulder blades. Then he wrapped the banderole around her elbows.

"Oh, you wouldn't dare!"

"Who's stopping me?" he asked, amiably. He weaved the flag up her forearms like a shoelace, and wrapped it tight around her wrists. "This okay?"

"Harder," she spat. She winced as he sharply pulled the ends and tied a knot. Oh gods, with her own royal colours. That delightful bastard will pay for this. But not today, not today.

There was still a decent length of fabric left. He turned her around, wrapped it anout her neck, and tied a neat bow at her throat. Then he sat on his toes, put his hands on his cheeks, and looked at her with a dreamy smile.

"You look like a piece of chestnut cake wrapped for the Iris Festival." Slightly bowed forward by the contraction of her arms, she gave him a death stare. "Hey, can you move around in that?" He stood up and stepped away a little. "Come on, try to get here!"

"What, on my knees?"

"On your knees."

"Are you daft!"

"If you make it, I'll let you suck my cock."

She leaned down and growled with exasperation. Her face felt hot, her heart raced, her mouth watered, she was wetter between her legs than anywhere actually exposed to the rain. This had no right to be as hot as it was. Why, just why.

She straightened her back and looked upwards.

"Oh, just and gentle spirits of the forest, strike him down with blisters for this villainy." She glanced at his taut underwear, at that prominent, diagonal bulk. She stuck one knee forward, then another. She inched on, kneecaps skidding on moss, trying to balance with her shoulders, muttering swearwords. At last she reached him. She looked up at him. His hands were folded on his chest, and he raised his eyebrows.

She sighed, lowered her eyes, grabbed the hem of his underwear with her teeth, and carefully pulled down. It took a lot of laborious twisting of her upper body to pull the cloth off his unhelpful hips, but nothing could make her give up on her prize. Eventually, she succeeded. His cock sprung up free right above her eyes. She leapt up after it and greeted it with a kiss. A small drop of precum landed on her cheek.

She almost tipped over; he finally came to her aid and grabbed her lightly by the shoulder. Thus steadied, she tilted her head and took him in her mouth.

A shudder of delight went over her. The hardness, the girth, the shape -- it was such a satisfying thing to feel. She rocked her head back and forth, relishing the sense of her mouth being penetrated, and moaned softly. He smiled with affection.

"You needed that, didn't you?" A quiet agreeing whimper answered him. He gently stroked her hair. "You're such a good girl, Gabrielle. Look at you. Such a perfect little cock slut."

His teasing wasn't the worst part. His obnoxiously justified smugness wasn't the worst part. The worst part was just how much she agreed with him. She intended to give him a light graze with her teeth, just to remind him to behave, and found that she couldn't -- because she was a perfect little cock slut, and it was her duty and pleasure to service him, her master, that idiot dickhead. What should have been annoyance became just a darker shade of delight. She glared up at him, and there was everything in that glare: an admission of her total surrender; a promise of a terrible future vengeance; the playfulness of two friends sharing an inside joke; the dead seriousness of basic, animal desire.

He held that gaze for a very long moment. Then he slowly withdrew from her mouth; she let him go, denied but docile, and her mouth was left half-open after his glans popped out. He put his fingers on her chin and lightly shut it, and wiped her lips with his thumb.

"Alright, enough of that. Wouldn't you prefer to be fucked full on?"

"Yes." It's amazing how much enthusiasm can be packed into one hoarse syllable.

He knelt down, seized the sides of her defenceless ribcage, and nudged her forward. She entrusted herself to his hands, and he brought her down until her cheek and her breasts lay on the muddy moss, her knees still on the ground and her buttocks up. She breathed heavily, half-stunned by anticipation. He fondly patted the back of her neck, and all she was able to respond with was a slight curl of her eyebrows.

"Now that you're sitting pretty," he said, hobbling over behind her, "let's... oh. Oh, girl." He chuckled, with a great tenderness. "Girl, what's all this?" She was drenched, her swollen labia dripping with clear liquid.

"For you," she managed. He leaned in and kissed that sloppy mess, and then slipped one finger inside, feeling around, gliding free on that lavish coating; she squealed, a gorgeous clean tone.

He bit on his lip. It had seemed like a fantasy come true, to bring home a princess from an enemy land, to read desire in her eyes, eyes that could weigh him against some of the noblest sons of a whole kingdom. But, well, there's one problem with a fantasy becoming reality -- it is kind of a lot to live up to. He was, after all, still the same Aerin, an ordinary Kontarian boy, with all his vulnerabilities and insecurities still living happily inside him.

Except, except, she knew that. She'd met him when he was downcast and hopeless. And still, knowing the human in him, she could look at him like he was a god. When you have a believer like that, a believer that you respect and that you've been honest with, it's surprisingly easy to be a god. You just need a little inspiration, a little enthusiasm, and some of that, how did she put it? Insolence.

He grabbed her by the hips, adjusted her, and dragged the entire length of his shaft over her wet clit. She whined, and ground her cheek into the wet earth. "Please put it in me," she complained. The tone of his chortle assured her that this was exactly his plan, but now she was overcome with an urge to beg. "Please fuck me. Please use me. Please take over my body. Be my master? My lord?"

He listened to the outburst with growing delight. Is there anything in the world hotter than enthusiasm? No, there fucking isn't.

"That's some court titling again. Did you speak like this to all your Harmen boys?"

"Only the really awesome ones."

He placed the tip of his glans in her slit and pushed just a tiny bit, pressing against her opening. It filled him with a primal satisfaction to see his cock right where it belonged, ready to fulfil its purpose.

"Aerin, please. What do you want me to say? I'll fucking say it."

"Say nothing and wait. Good girls are patient."

She could have just backed up a little and he'd slide right into her, but that wouldn't do. She needed him to impose his own will on what was happening to her. So she kept still, under the blunt pressure of his glans, and politely waited until he deigned to claim her.

At long last she felt him tense up, and for a split second the awareness of the imminent and inevitable penetration blazed white hot in her mind, an utter and absolute agreement. Then all at once he was inside her, whole, brimming her with total fulness, forcing out of her a loud, ecstatic whine.

"Thank you," she managed, her idiot desire to grovel clearly far from satiated.

"See? Now where'd all that bashfulness go?" He reached in and stroked her hair. "You're way too good for that. And way too slutty."

Her eyebrow twitched. "Wow, I'm being so good, and you're so rude." She felt his index finger land on her inner thigh, glide up, and circle her clit.

"Excites you, doesn't it? You gigantic softie."

"Fuck me, you jerk!"

He grabbed her shoulders and shifted his weight onto them, pressing her hard into the soft moss. His hips jolted with pure animal energy. He slammed into her with decisive, deep blows. She heard the sounds of her subjugation, of skin clashing on skin, of her flesh parted by his onslaught. More importantly, she felt the hot, hard, stretching fulness, coming and going as he invaded and receded from her. Her spine curled, her legs writhed apart, her whole body made a determined effort to gift itself to his.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

She chortled, hardly believing the begging, desperate tone she heard herself produce; and yet it furiously turned her on, this airing of her vulnerability. She repeated the words, over and over, and thought with delight how insufferably smug they must have made him feel, how reassured of his total mastery of her.

He was, indeed, going slightly deranged. Her embracing his sexual energy so eagerly was by itself breath-taking. But there was something more, something that made him feel soft even as his thrusts rose rough and raw and ruthless. He recognised the trust she was putting in him, and the courage that this required of her. Courage not only to toss aside the caution and the pride and to suffer herself to be sexually dominated, but also to sincerely confess her joy with these beautiful, whole-hearted sounds. He dug his fingernails into her collarbones, and fucked her with all the passion she deserved.

She moaned, and she writhed. This is where taking risks had taken her. They had always warned her about the barbarous Kontarians. She got to know one, and what she discovered was a kind heart and a wonderful cock. She wished that the knight that brought the banderole here, with conquest on his mind, could know that it would end up as a sex toy used to bind one of the Kingdom's purest-bred bodies. She wished that the whole of Harmen could somehow be aware that her precious royally-descended cunt was right now being claimed and enjoyed by a very rude Kontarian boy, and occupied by his beautiful, rude, Kontarian cock; and she wished they knew just how much she loved it. Bent down, bound, teased and fucked into mud, she felt more genuinely appreciated and more empowered than she'd ever done in her Harmen life. Every "fuck me" that escaped her carefully educated mouth felt like a victory, over her upbringing, over her inhibitions, her country, her bloodline, everything that had always controlled her.