The Forge

"Yeah, I'm, um, I'm okay." She said as they sat back down. "Where did you learn all this?" she asked quietly.

"Well, most of it I learned from the guy I learned smithing from. He said 'if you're gonna make a weapon, you need to know how to use the weapon, else you won't know if it's going to work right.' He taught me how to use every weapon he taught me how to make. The weapons I've learned to make since then, on my own, I spent months farting around with before I ever tried to make one." He explained, turning the practice knife over in his hands.

"How good are you with them?" She asked.

He flicked his wrist and the dull practice knife sank deep into the patio post, the handle vibrating, making her jump.

"Pretty good." He grinned.

She stood up and walked to the knife, stilling it with her finger. She tried to pull it out of the wood and couldn't budge it an iota. He reached over her shoulder and gave it one sharp yank, pulling it free as if it was nothing. She turned and without thinking about what she was doing, she stood up on her toes and kissed him, he small hands resting lightly on his chest, feeling the sweat slicked muscles tense a bit. She broke the kiss after a moment and lowered herself, blushing deeply and looking down.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" She started to sputter when his hand cupped her chin. He lifted her face to look at him, and he kissed her. She closed her eyes and moaned far back in her throat. Her mind raced. She didn't know this man, just his name and the fact that he was very good with weapons. She felt an exhilaration that was part fear. Not the kind of fear that had driven her to come back here, but a fear of what may develop from this. She thought he may be twice her age, or only a few years her senior. She didn't know if he was dangerous; well, she was pretty sure he was dangerous when he needed to be, but she didn't know if he was dangerous to her. She felt him back away and opened her eyes. He was smiling a bit, but looked a little guilty.

"It's been awhile since anyone has kissed me. I don't know if it's something we should do though. I'm pretty sure you are a little young for a man like me." He said, his voice surprisingly soft.

Her heart sank a little at his words, but fluttered madly at his sadness. She hadn't felt like this since she had a crush on her teacher Mr. Rourke in the seventh grade. She bit her lip and looked away.

"I might not be. You don't look that old." She whispered, smiling a little.

"Well, I'm not an old man, but I'm not a college kid anymore." He said, stepping back from her.

"Will you teach me more? I would like to learn, if it's ok."

He stood a moment, thinking, and then nodded. "Yeah, I'll teach you more." He said quietly.

Four

Morgan sat in the recliner, listening to the radio, his mind whirling. He looked at the two pictures on the wall. One of him at about Lily's age, standing next to a young woman with jet black hair and a devious grin. The other of her by herself, sitting on a large rock, looking out at the ocean. He felt a stab of sorrow and a wave of shame, a feeling like he was cheating on her. He took a long drink of his beer and thought. And thought. And thought.

Six years. Quite a while. He had been alone in this house for six years, drinking himself stupid for the first few, wandering thoughtlessly and working the forge like a robot for a couple after that. He thought it over and felt that he had spent the last year or so simply recovering from the staggering depression of the previous five. He had thought that it was possible that he was through grieving, but then here comes this girl, stumbling into his yard, scared and alone, looking as fragile as a snowflake. She was quiet and timid, just as Samantha had been. Then, today, he had seen that there was what looked like a hard streak buried beneath the shyness and innocence. Just as Samantha had.

He sighed heavily and stood up, limping towards the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing, Morg?" He asked the empty house, getting the exact answer he expected. Nothing. He opened another beer and went back to the chair, his mind racing again.

Lily stepped out of her clothes while the shower warmed up, and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked a little less like death tonight, and that made her glad. She glanced down at the sink, and saw the knife laying next to her hairbrush. She smiled a little and ran a finger slowly down the length of the flat of the blade. The metal was cool, and made her mind jump to thoughts of Morgan. His wide chest, oiled in sweat, the deep musky scent of him, the thrum of his muscles under the smooth skin, the tapestry inked into him, the power and grace in his large hands. She figured if he wanted to, he could easily break her arm just by grabbing it and squeezing. The thought of which didn't frighten her, but excited her. She ran a hand along her stomach, which had been fluttering pleasantly all evening. She felt her pulse quicken as her hand went lower, trailing along the top of her slit. She stood that way for a moment, the shower forgotten. One hand gently touching herself, the other touching the knife. She turned to the shower quickly and stepped into the warm spray.

As she worked the body wash into a thick lather, she let her hands caress her body slowly, trying to imagine what his hands would feel like in all those places. Trying to imagine the stone-like callous moving across her stomach, her ass, her chest, throat, thighs. She was breathing hard, her lips parted, as she ran a finger teasingly between her legs. She rubbed her clit in small circles with one hand, the other rubbing lightly on her lips, spreading them little by little. She left her clit to reach up and lightly pinch her nipple, working it slowly and softly, taking her time to build up pressure. Her other hand had her lips pulled wide open, and was putting light pressure against her hole. She groaned as her fingers slid in, savoring the moment. She worked her fingers a bit, and then began to speed up, going deeper as she went faster. She began muttering a bit in between moans and gasps, mostly just saying 'yes' over and over again. She felt herself start the tensing up that signaled her coming orgasm. She now had three fingers plunging in and out, as deep as she could, as fast as she could. She left her nipple and rubbed furiously at her clit, pausing only to give it a hard squeeze every few moments. She was moaning almost nonstop as she finally felt the heavy wave of her orgasm crash over her. She rode it out, curling her fingers deep inside, rolling her clit between her fingers, her legs shaking a bit. She eased her fingers out, gasping a bit, and began to actually shower, a small smile across her mouth.

Five

Saturday was sunny, but cool. A fine day to work the forge. Morgan was out and stoking the pit by sunup. He had just pulled the first bar out of the coals when he heard a car pull into the driveway. He smiled a moment before beginning to hammer. He was working steel today, and wanted this piece to be a good one. He glanced up and saw Lily walking up, the rough dagger jammed in her belt like some kind of garden party buccaneer. It made a jarring addition to her loose, bright sundress and the woven hemp belt that was holding it. She smiled as she sat on the stool, placing the knife on the workbench.

"You are gonna cut yourself pretty good if you keep carrying that thing around like that, you know." He said mildly as he hammered.

"I only carry it like that when I'm walking. In the car it lays across my lap."

"Ah. Well, maybe we can do something about that later. Come here a minute." He said stepping back from the anvil. She hopped up and stepped over.

Morgan picked up his spare apron and hung it over her head. Dangling from her neck, it almost reached her feet. She smiled, looking a little confused, but tied it around her waist. He handed her a small ball-peen hammer and held the steel with the tongs. She looked at him, her eyes questioning. He just smiled and pointed at the metal. She gave it a couple of light taps, not sure what she was supposed to be doing.

"Hit it harder, you won't hurt it. Try to make the flat part of the hammer land flat on the steel." He said, placing his hand on her back. She smiled a little wider and hit again, harder. This time, she saw the metal bar dent a bit where she hit it.

"If I had known I was going to be working today, I would have worn something a little different," She said as she hammered, getting a feel for it.

"Well, it's not exactly ideal for learning how to knife fight either," He chuckled, watching her work. He could see that beyond the dainty exterior, she had the potential needed to learn something like this. Her strikes were already showing improvement. She quickly became more consistent as she hammered. She began hitting harder, starting to like it. It felt like a kind of release, just hammering the shit out of something. After her hands and arms began to tire, Morgan took over again. He began to quickly shape and mold the steel. She watched a while, trying to build the courage to ask what she had been wondering. Finally, she simply asked.

"When you said it had been a while since anyone had kissed you, how long did you mean?"

"Awhile. Six years or so." He said quietly, staring at the metal.

"Six yea-. Wow. Awhile. Why so long? I mean, didn't anyone, didn't you, well. Why?" She sputtered, not sure how to ask what she meant.

"Six years ago, uh, well," He started, putting the hammer down. He stared at the metal, trying to say it. "Six years ago my wife died. I haven't, you know, gotten out much." He said quietly.

"Oh, oh Morgan, I'm sorry, I," She started, a hand over her mouth. She touched his shoulder gently.

"It's okay. I, it's okay. It was six years ago." He said, almost to himself. He felt her put her arms around him and he turned to her. She rested her head on his chest and rubbed his back. Slowly, his arms came up and held her. He looked down at her, holding her in his arms, and felt a strange kind of rushing relief. He hadn't stood like this with any one in a long time, and he had forgotten just how nice it felt to hold someone. She looked up and stared into his eyes. He leaned his head down and kissed her. The kiss was brief, but powerful. When he broke it, he saw her keep her eyes closed a moment longer and bite her lip. When she opened her eyes, she saw the relief on his face. She felt a kind of relief as well, feeling that maybe this was going to be okay. She rose up and kissed him, opening her mouth, and letting her tongue seek his. They stood that way for a long time, each both giving and taking from the kiss. When it finally broke, they both felt a sense of 'this is right after all' that was nearly palpable.

"Come with me." He said, his voice soft once again.

She held his hand as they walked to the door and went inside. He walked to the rear of the house, leading her to his bedroom. When he closed the door, she realized that this was the first time she had left the knife behind since he had given it to her. And she felt that that was fine. She unbuttoned his shirt, taking her time, letting her fingers run across his chest and stomach as she did. He let the shirt drop when she finished. He undid her belt, letting it drop to the floor. He unbuttoned her dress, revealing her smooth, pale skin. She wore a simple pink bra underneath, and matching pink panties. She let the dress fall and undid his belt. She undid his fly and let the pants fall. He wore nothing underneath, and his cock jumped up, free of restraint. She saw a nasty scar that made her pause. It started at the base of his shaft, and churned its way across the wing of his right hip and down his right thigh; a wide, ragged pink and purple mess that looked like it almost took his entire leg.

"The accident. The truck door, bent in, it, my leg, the tearing," He said, his hand drifting to cover the ugly thing. She took his wrist, stopping him from blocking it, and ran the fingers of her other hand across it, feeling all the bumps and divots, how it was thick in places and thin in others. She let her fingers glide up to where it met his cock and wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft. He groaned, a long low sound from deep in his barrel chest. She gently pushed him back until he sat on the bed. She took off her bra and let him slide her panties down. Her lips were wet and swollen, waiting. He kissed her stomach as she stood before him, his short whiskers tickling her belly button. His hands went to her ass, kneading gently, and she moaned. His hands felt better than she had imagined, and she had imagined they felt wonderful. She knelt in front of him, running her fingers over his chest and stomach.

He felt her breath on his head for a moment, warm and fast, before her tongue ran around his tip. She licked away his precum and smiled before lowering her mouth onto him. She started slowly, but built speed quickly, sucking harder and harder until he felt like she had drawn most of the blood in his body into his rigid dick. He didn't think he had been this hard in years. He was gasping and very close to cumming when suddenly she stopped. He looked down and saw her grinning.

"Not yet." She said simply, and pushed him onto his back.

She planted a knee on either die of his waist and rocked her hips, rubbing her slit back and forth, up and down his shaft, her hands planted on his chest. He ran his up her sides and cupped her breasts, relishing the soft yet firm feeling of them, the rigid points of her nipples, and the steady thud of her heart. She stopped with her hips rocked forward, his head pressed to her hole, and ground down, wriggling her hips slightly. She reached down and pressed on his head as she rocked down again, guiding him in. They both held their breath as he sank in, not breathing again until she stopped with him fully in, her ass resting on his balls. She began to lift and fall, her eyes closed and her mouth open, lifting, then letting herself fall swiftly, burying him deep with each drop. He grabbed her waist to help lift her, and she realized she did not have to lift at all; he easily hefted her up and down, as though she weighed almost nothing. She found an amazing thrill of pleasure, feeling the strength and power in his hands and arms as he moved her. The feeling of near powerlessness was intoxicating. Her small fingers in the shower now seemed like a garden hose compared to the tidal wave of feeling she received from his strength. He lifted her once more and in one graceful roll she was pinned under him, rolled onto her back. She squealed with pleasure as he settled down over her. He thrusted deep inside, reaching deeper with the new angle, and she felt the wave approaching. She heard a crackle and his grunt, but thought nothing of it, as he never slowed or lost his rhythm. When her orgasm hit, it hit hard. Her stomach tensed hard, and her walls squeezed him tightly. He gasped, and sped up, beginning another orgasm deep in her immediately. He came with her, thundering into her with each hard pulse of his dick, shooting deep inside. She cried out at the warmth it brought, and dug her nails into the backs of his arms.

He held himself above her on his elbows to keep from crushing her under his weight, and she pulled his head down and kissed him fiercely, her tongue lashing against his. He returned in kind, but she felt him trembling. She did not think it was from the sex, as his breathing was also ragged. She broke the kiss and saw his face. His teeth were now gritted, his skin red, the cords in his neck tight and clearly visible.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned, as he rolled off of her. He didn't answer immediately, just laid there, on his back, his fists clenched. She rolled over to him and put a hand on his chest.

"Please. My leg. Lift my leg, fast." He grunted, his eyes clenched shut, as he gripped his right thigh where the scar scrawled down. She grabbed his knee and jerked it up. There was a loud crunch and his hip jerked.

"What?" She began, more worried than ever, but his face was more relaxed. Not calm, but not the knot of pain it was.

"Sorry. It still tends to dislocate. When I strain it. But it was worth the strain. Just give me a minute." He said, his voice still a bit tight.

"Don't apologize, it's okay. But in the future, let me know if it's gonna happen again, alright? You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry." He shrugged.

"Well, I guess from here on out, I'm on top then." She grinned.