Sarlene's Touch Ch. 31

"I'm not facing something celestial! Those things are as powerful as demons, and I know a lot less about them!"

"Then you can walk back out the way you came."

Nyvara glared at her in silence for long moments, and Zarenis simply stared back, arms on her hips. Rolgor just looked worried, although the tiefling knew that, if it came to it, he would back his mistress, not herself. "It knows we're here," she said eventually, "but we know it's here. So we make sure we're ready for it."

Nyvara's shoulders slumped; she knew she didn't have an option. "Right," she said, curtly, "this better be worth it."

They walked in silence for a while, as the corridor continued to slop down into the depths. At last, Nyvara's mage-light glittered off something ahead. Soon it became clear what it was -- water, wisps of light vapour wafting from its surface. The tunnel ahead was flooded, obviously having dropped below the water table of the city.

"Well, that's that," said Nyvara, sounding a little relieved, "unless you fancy going for a swim?"

Zarenis looked back at her, a slight grin on her face. "Why wouldn't I?"

──◊──

"I cannot believe you talked me into this."

"It'll work," Carendel assured her, "you're a cleric, which means you have a channel to the gods. We open a pathway to the right deity, one that doesn't need candles and fires, and use that as your route through to the Sun God."

"The operative phrase there is: I'm a cleric!"

They were alone in the chamber, the fighter and magician having moved outside to allow the ceremony to take place. Sister Yarona was glaring at the elf, her lips pursed and her eyebrows deeply frowning; she didn't seem as enamoured of the idea as he had hoped.

"And the gods will smile on us," he offered, "because we're doing this to protect the city. I admit that's the only reason it will work, but it is a good one. You're the only one of us that can talk to the gods."

"That's not the part I'm worried about." Her dark eyes narrowed, "you planned this, didn't you?"

"It's was Oshanti's idea, not mine!" he protested. - truthfully, as it happened, although she might not believe that.

"She's not the one who has to do this."

"Because she's not the cleric. Although," he admitted, somewhat reluctantly, "I suppose she could help out."

"Oh, don't be so..." she snorted in exasperation, turning away from him, and then suddenly spinning back to wave a finger under his nose. "As you so recently reminded me," she snapped, "you're the elf, not me!"

"Which is why we have to do the ceremony this way," he pointed out. "Look, it's not that bad, surely?"

"I just need..." she turned away again, looking at the wall, stumbling over the words, "I just need some time to get used to it. I mean, this isn't exactly regular."

She stood there in silence for a while, hands clasped in front of her; he supposed she might be praying. He did nothing, respecting her space, waiting for her to say something else. At last she let out a long sigh, squaring her shoulders, and turning back to face him.

"Right..." she said, "so how do we do this?"

"You must have some idea."

"Very funny. You know what I mean."

"Yes," he said quietly, deciding that teasing her probably wasn't the best idea under the circumstances. "Look... you do understand this? You open a channel to Sarlene, and she is our conduit to the Sun God, her father."

"I understand the idea," she said, her dark eyes staring straight into his green ones. Her white and gold robes enwrapped her form, showing a slim waist and a pleasing figure, and her long black hair fell over her shoulders from the golden sunburst and wreath on her brow. She looked, he reflected, as beautiful as always, if not more so, but she also looked very uncertain.

"My point is," he said, speaking softly, "only you can open the channel. That means... you have to reach orgasm. It's no good if it's just me, it has to be you, too."

"I think I can do that," she said, nodding, a hint of colour rising to her cheeks, although she still did not look entirely convinced.

"You could have chosen Romas."

"I know..." her voice was quieter now, "but I would rather it was you. Besides, he and Oshanti... well, you know."

He nodded, "I'm still flattered."

He reached out a hand to her cheek, feeling her soft skin beneath his fingers, and leant in closer towards her, feeling her warm breath on his face. Gently, he kissed her, their lips just touching. Her eyes closed, long dark lashes sweeping down, and he kissed the tip of her nose before moving into her mouth again, holding the kiss longer this time.

She moved in slightly towards him, their bodies touching through their clothing, and he dared to put a hand around her waist, running it slowly up her spine as she reciprocated the embrace, her own grasp less firm than his own. They broke apart, she gasping, eyes fluttering open, moving her hands away, although he kept one resting on her hip.

"That was nice," he said, smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way, "a good start."

She nodded mutely, not daring to say anything, and he kissed her again. At first, she didn't respond, but then she let out a quiet moan and pressed herself into him, exploring his lips, their tongues entwining as she reached a hand up to brush his long blond hair. He held her tightly, and the kiss seemed to go on and on, until at last they released each other, gasping for air, before he ran his lips down the angle of her jaw, brushing up against the high cloth collar of her robes.

She gasped, and Carendel took a step back, watching her dark eyes intently. They were fixed on him, watching his face, her desire evident; he thought she had never looked more beautiful. Although it was true that he had desired her for many years, and her occasional sly glances in his direction had allowed him to hold out hope that one day he might be able to consummate that desire, he had never imagined it would be like this. A woman like the cleric deserved to be romanced with roses and fine wine, and bedded on soft fresh sheets when she at last surrendered her religious inhibitions.

The middle of a dungeon was not quite what he had had in mind.

The elven archer unhitched his cloak, spreading it out on the floor and began to remove his shirt, revealing the slender yet toned body beneath. Yarona's eyes wandered down, taking in every nuance of his pale skin, and, for a moment he felt slightly foolish standing there, the object of such attention.

He inclined his head slightly and made a vague motion towards her. "Uhh... you..." he said quietly, raising his eyebrows and hoping she would get the hint.

She nodded, as if coming to her senses, and reached for the fastening on her robes. He undid his belt and pulled his trews down, pulling off his boots while trying not to let her out of his gaze as she slowly stepped out of her outer garments. He did not want to miss a moment of this revelation of a body he had so longed to see more of.

The cleric's white robes fell to the ground with a whisper as the elf straightened himself up, now clad only in his shorts. His eyes widened as they wandered over her body. Sister Yarona had not been wearing a conventional shift under her robes, he now saw. Instead, she had on a tight sleeveless tunic that reached to her waist, and shorts that reached a third of the way down her thighs. The skin of her arms and legs was flawless and creamy, deliciously shapely, as were the curves that her tight underwear did little to hide. A golden sunburst hung on a chain around her neck, matching the one on her brow.

He was aware that she was looking at him as eagerly as he was at her, and when her eyes dipped down to his shorts, she blushed deeply, for there could be no mistaking his deep arousal. Turning her eyes away from the sight, she reached for the headband in her rich, dark hair.

"No," he said, reaching out an arm towards her, "it may seem strange, but you will need the holy symbols."

"Yes, of course," she said meekly, lowering her arms again, and then standing still, unsure of what to do next.

His arm was half way towards her, so he extended it further, brushing the soft skin of her shoulder. He traced his slender fingertips down the bare skin of her arm, even that touch of her more than he had attained before. He smiled at her, reassuringly, and his fingers reached her wrist, trailing lower to take her hand in his, squeezing it slightly.

"You are all right with this?" he asked, "Truly? Because if you are not, then it will be worthless, and I do not wish to do this with you for nothing. Without affection and absolute freedom of choice, this means nothing to Sarlene."

"I know," she said, "and were it anyone but you..." she looked away, eyes lowered, "I couldn't. I am a cleric, and I have to take that seriously. But with you, I..." she turned back, and said, simply, "kiss me, Carendel."

He moved towards her, taking her head in his hands, running long elven fingers through lustrous black hair, and kissed her once more on the lips. She responded in kind, and soon he felt her fingers running along his flanks, before one hand curled around to hold the small of his back, and another reached up for his own long hair. Her body pressed against his, and he could feel the swell of her breasts through the single piece of fabric that separated them, his erection pressed against her thigh.

They pulled apart, suddenly, and she knelt down on his cloak, pulling her shoes off as he lay down beside her. They kissed again, softly, and he patted her hip, feeling the shape of it through soft, white material. He pulled himself up onto one elbow, lying on his side, and let his eyes drink in the whole of her body, still clothed in her tight underwear.

He traced his free hand down the outside of her thigh, stroking her gently, taking his time to savour her. On impulse, he shifted his position, moving down to plant a kiss on her bent knee. He glanced up at her face, seeing only rapture reflected in it, and placed another kiss on her calf. With no objection evident he continued kissing her there, moving his lips across both her legs, all of the exposed skin of her calves, ankles, and lower thighs, sometimes darting his tongue out to taste her, to revel in the tang of the cleric's sweet scent.

"You are so beautiful..." he whispered, pulling himself a little further up until he could take the hem of her upper garment in his fingers, and lift it a few inches.

He kissed her exposed belly, and lifted the tunic further out of the way, briefly pressing his nose into her navel, his lips caressing her narrow waist. She whispered wordless encouragement, as he hitched her clothing further up her body. He pulled away slightly to feast his eyes on her as he finally lifted the tunic over her breasts to bunch under her shoulders. He let out a sigh of appreciation as he did so, lost in the beauty of her naked flesh, unable to pull his eyes away from the rounded mounds before him.

Carendel moved his fingers over every inch of the cleric's breasts, before pressing his lips to them, moving his kisses in ever decreasing circles towards her small, dark nipples. They were erect he saw, as he at last surrendered to his desire and kissed each of them in turn, running the tip of his tongue over them until Sister Yarona gasped aloud in pleasure.

It seemed like an eternity before he pulled back, away from her, giving the cleric a chance to pull the tunic over her head, and readjust her holy symbol so that it nestled in her enticing cleavage. Carendel removed the last item of his own clothing, seeing the cleric's eyes drawn irresistibly to his erection, which felt larger and more swollen than it ever had in his whole life.

"You are beautiful too," she told the elf, "although I could not tell you before."

She moved to place a hand on his hip, feeling the toned flesh there before, ever so slowly moving it round to the base of his balls. She cupped them, before sliding the tip of her finger up the underside of his shaft. Now it was his turn to moan in pleasure, and wonder how much more of this he could take before he exploded.

"Beautiful, indeed," she said.

He lay down beside her, and they kissed, hands exploring each others' bodies, legs rubbing against one another. When her hand brushed his cock again, he reached for her long panties, pressing between her legs, fingers probing her through the fabric. He could feel the warmth there, perhaps a slight hint of moisture, although the fabric was relatively heavy.

Tongues entwined, the cleric's hand caressing his buttocks, the elf dared to slide his fingers beneath the material of her panties, down across the short hair there, feeling her sex by touch alone.

"Oh, Carendel," gasped Yarona, pulling her clothing down to give him freer access.

He pressed his fingers against her pussy lips, finding them as damp as he had expected, teasing her slightly. She wriggled against him, hip moving involuntarily, breasts sliding against his chest. He had never been driven so close to the edge before, almost dared not imagine what bliss still awaited him.

"Are you ready?" he asked, finding his voice husky.

"So, so ready..." confirmed the cleric, her burning desire evident.

He lifted her leg up, and pressed himself against her, remaining like that for a few seconds, before she rolled over onto her back, and at last he pushed himself between her open legs. His own gasp of pleasure drowned out the cleric's, but he was barely inside, and her second gasp as he pressed the rest of the way was loud with wonder and delight.

"Yes, yes..." he cried, calling out her name as he began to move slowly and rhythmically inside her.

She was tight and fresh, enveloping him in wondrous sensations as his motion continued. The human woman moaned and cried out as he continued to pleasure her, body responding to his, hips rising to meet him, slick breasts rubbing against his chest as her fingers dug into his shoulders. He kissed her outstretched throat, gripping her body, savouring every moment, as she herself was so evidently doing.

Suddenly he pulled out, and moved away from her. Her eyes widened, begging, as she moved herself up onto her elbows. Her lips formed a silent question, evidently wondering whether it was he who was now having second thoughts.

He shook his head, not finding the words to tell her that he had been perilously close to climax, ruining the simultaneity that the ritual surely required. He gazed down at her, magnificent naked body spread out below him, still wearing the sacred sunburst in her hair, the second holy symbol nestling between those oh-so-kissable breasts.

She reached for his cock, hands sliding in her own juices, pressing him back towards her. Carefully, he pushed himself back inside, and resumed his motions. He sensed her rising urgency now, and began to move a little faster, drawing yet more moans of pleasure from his partner.

"I am close..." she whispered, "oh, goddess... I can feel her presence... oh, Carendel, I'm going to come... OHHH..."

The elf ejaculated with a long drawn out moan of pleasure as Sister Yarona bucked in the throws of a powerful orgasm. Everything went white, a brilliant blaze of divine light erupting from their coupling bodies and filling the room with its searing glory.

And something took shape.