One of Us

Suddenly with his knee he kicked her thighs apart, and she went down on her stomach. He fell on her with his full body weight, stifling her to the ground. He was still deep inside, but now only had the range for short, rapid strokes; his hand, however, snaked its way beneath her underbelly, and his fingers pinched around her clit.

He grabbed her by the hair and twisted her head down. He kissed the nape of her neck. He savoured the slower, deeper flow, feeling her with the whole length of his cock. He felt her tremble helpless under his weight. He registered every twitch, every ecstatic, sobbing moan.

"Listen to yourself. You really think you're a princess playing dress-up? You weren't born for courtly curtsies and high towers. You're a very filthy girl that likes to have fun. You're one of us."

"Yes!" she whined. Oh fuck, oh fuck. He was touching her exactly the way she liked. She really did belong here, to him, to the land, to this energy.

He kissed her neck right under her ear.

"Now you'll cum for me," he whispered. "You'll show me what a good, dirty girl you are."

"Yes, Aerin!"

Nothing would make her happier than to obey him with her whole body, with her whole mind, all at once. And already teetering on the edge, there was nothing left to do but to yield.

His touch surged, cascaded, went all the way through her. Her muscles bucked and contorted, but he wouldn't let her move; he pinned her down even harder, constricted her, and she could only express all this mad rippling ecstasy with a growling, feral scream, and to worship his cock by hopelessly clenching on its girth, an uncontrollable, rapid, naked confession.

He purred with approval and rested his cheek on hers. He delighted in her voice and gloried in her pulsing grip; and when all of this passed and she lay motionless, he still held onto her like that, still buried in her, now in turn soaking in her satisfaction. Her ribs were rising gently with her breath. He ran his thumb along the ridge of her shoulder blade. She seemed such a fragile thing, a drained girl dumped in the mud. How could that lean body contain all this amazing spirit?

Slowly he rose up. He reached for her wrists and untied the knot. The banderole came undone, and her arms lay free; and suddenly the muscles of her back, up to now numbed with exertion, assaulted her with a wave of pain.

"Ow! Fuck!" She winced and spread out her arms, the banderole dragged in disarray around her elbows. And at once, she felt Aerin's fingers press into her shoulders.

"Lie still," he said. He pushed into her sore muscles, and started kneading them into shape. She responded with a happy purr.

"Does this ritual," her voice was slurred, "always come with a backrub?"

"This one does."

"You're the best ritualist ever." The foliage above still chattered in the drizzle; raindrops would still fall lightly on her skin. She could hear the music and smell the smoke from the field -- the Kontarians were used to a little wetness. Her half-closed eyes focused idly on a blade of grass right by her face, bent down with a single drop of water at its end. His hands were grinding all pain away. His cock was still pushing her insides apart, making itself at home. She must have looked like a blissed-out idiot, and she couldn't be bothered to do anything about that. When she was little, a tutor priest tried to describe heaven to her. His version differed from this one on several key points. She liked this one way better.

When he'd massaged her into complete relaxation, he lay down on her again, head hugging to head. His fingers caressed her hands, along the deep grooves that the fabric had pressed in.

"Haedde was right," he muttered. "Look, you've got stripes, like a real tiger."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Yeah. Make fun of me, will you." He immediately rose up, grabbed her by the shoulders, and flipped her on her back.

"Yes. Yes I will." She was in a pitiful state. Her skin was filthy with mud, and her runes were running. "Looks like I've made you one with the soil pretty well."

She wheezed, as if she had no energy left to laugh. Her hands were resting by the side of her head, palms up, like a dog exposing its tummy for a rubdown.

"What's this?" He pinched her cheek; she only smiled and inclined to his hand. "You won't defend yourself? You'll just let me do whatever I want?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Where's all your sass now? Where's that girl that likes to tease me?" She placed her hands on his chest, as if in apology.

"She's your bitch. She's sorry." She rubbed her clit against his balls. "But do you think she could have some more, please?" Her tone was dreamy, dazed. He ground his balls lightly into her.

"Again? Are you close?"

"Yes," she chortled. He smiled, tenderly.

"You're a lot of fun. You know that?" She dug her fingers into his chest.

"Just pump me full of your cum, please. Make me feel it."

He had to use every last bit of his willpower to not just rip into her. He managed to force his face into a careless smile.

"Okay." His hand moved to her underbelly, and he gave her clit a pat. "If you really want it so bad, I guess I could do it."

"Thank you. Thank you."

"But you'll owe me a favour." He gave her no chance to respond; at once, his tongue was in her mouth, and his body forced itself close on hers, forehead to forehead, chest to breasts, hip to hip. Again he entered her, thick and strong, and thrust hard. Her back arched, she wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him greedily tight towards her. Her nails dug into his skin, spurring him on to take her rough, to unleash it all. Her breath was fast and shallow, moans ragged and primal. His finger circled her clit. She'd shown him her weak spots. He knew how to push her. In no time, he had her completely unravelled.

"Look at me," she pleaded. "Watch me cum for you." He looked into her eyes, and his nerves surged.

"Together."

"Yes!"

Their bodies took over, muscles contracting on their own to the rhythm, aggressive and animal. Two voices sounded in intense harmony. Two releases twisted together, coiled together, one perfect moment, bright eyes closing, she his, he hers, a wriggling mess, blood rushing, spittle flying, semen spilling, darkness falling.

They rocked together for a long while still. When they came to a stop, they just stayed like that, hugging, unmoving, eyes closed. He felt the heat of her body with his front, raindrops and cool air with his back. He did not feel like the world above was chilling him. He felt like he was warming up the world.

Finally she stirred, and they both sat up. She'd successfully shared her mess with him; the paint and the dirt were all over his skin as well, in mirror image of her. He playfully shook her shoulder.

"And now how's my Kontarian girl?" She sighed, and with a trembling hand brushed hair away from her brow.

"Fine. Really quite fine." Her mind was soft and gauzy. She recalled some of the embarrassing things she'd been saying, and grimaced. "You're, like, one solid chunk of male smugness right now, aren't you." He shrugged, and looked down with a humble smile.

"I am." It was actually fairly new to him, this satisfaction of bringing his lover to a raging, enthusiastic submission. He'd really learned that from... her, perhaps? He probably wouldn't have the courage to indulge his dominant side this much before he'd met her. Maybe it was he that was a strange, foreign creature, gradually growing more similar to her?

"Well, good." She scurried closer and rested her head on his chest. "Ugh."

"Ugh what?"

"You deserve a solid trashing for all the things you've done, and instead I'm cuddling up to your stupid chest. I'm growing soft."

He ruffled her hair thoughtfully. "Yeah. You need to be careful, or you'll end up being nice."

"Nah, don't worry. I wouldn't do that to you."

His lower lip, down to his chin, was stained with orange paint. The same paint that Haedde had only used on her breast. There was no way to get it completely out without hot water. They'd just stroll like that among the campfires. Oh boy.

And then she'd spend the rest of the night among people who thought that everything that just happened was about as remarkable as a couple taking a walk and holding hands. She'd have to try and not die of embarrassment. She supposed this would take some practice.

But she'd get used to that too. After all, she was now one of them.