To Save a World Ch. 03

Something intruded on him, though. It was... like an itch. An itch to do something. Something that he can't help but do, anyway -- and in that moment he glimpsed something momentous, like the hand of the cosmos reaching down to touch his dying mind, the distance between the stars tracing his spine with space-cold hands, whispering in his ear to touch it.

The compulsion made him want to do something. And that something was to touch -- touch the glowing puddle of water that was right in front of him. For a fraction of a moment, Aaron wondered 'why have I never thought of that before?' , but then he was raising his arm to touch it.

"Touch." The itch encouraged.

His brain rebelled against the thought. "You mustn't touch that!" warned the small Aaron, perking up "You mustn't!" He wondered why not, and the small Aaron panicked. "Because!" He reasoned, quite immaturely, "Because we don't know what it is and it be something dangerous and it's unnatural and we just don't know --"

But Aaron didn't hear the rest, because he was already touching the water.

And the water was pulling him down.

And Aaron burned.

The liquid felt like it was devouring all of him, a billion tiny ants picking away at him everywhere. He felt himself dissolve, felt himself change and lose something that was an essential part of himself, and he tried to hold on to some semblance of his own identity but he was dust thrown into the deep ocean, scattered into a million microscopic particles, too small and insignificant to be anything.

But then, as subtle as a dream, he ran out of air in his lungs and he stopped screaming.

He breathed in, and the joy of life rushed into his nose and inside him. Color flooded into his vision. Vitality poured into his veins and buzzed in his blood, and his limbs felt as if pure energy was racing underneath them. Texture felt amplified wherever his skin touched a surface, and the soft surface he was laying on felt even softer, the coarse material his hands were gripping felt coarser.

He was alive, and his body told him so.

Energy in his veins soon turned into pleasure, and in a flash he was a burning fire of want. His heart thudded as drums, beating an erratic music of desire. Perspiration suddenly coated his skin, curiously absent of any wounds, and his breathing came in deep huge gulps. His cock felt like the hardest it ever was, almost to the point of pain.

A vision. Into his eyes swam a familiar image, a sight of comfort and of trust, of an anchor into this crazy, crazy world. Lydia looked at him with certain hopelessness in her eyes, and it registered somewhere in the far back of his brain that he was dying, just a minute ago.

"Please," he heard Lydia whisper in sorrow.

But that all changed when their eyes met. Lydia paused, then gasped. The inexplicable force of Aaron's arousal hit her like a wave, her magically attuned mind caught in his emotions like sun dried cloth dropped into a raging river. Her skin burned with familiar situations, the faintest wisp of air turning into that mad tingling that shot straight into her center. She was wet. She was sopping wet, trembling from sheer desire.

Aaron's hand shot out and grabbed Lydia's wrist, pulling her down to him almost violently. The kiss that followed was hungry, passionate, devouring and rough. There were no gentle caresses of long-separated lovers, only the craving of people driven half-mad by want.

Aaron was turning around as soon as their lips met, and the next thing he knew he was on top of the small girl, bare chested and struggling to get his trapped cock out of the confines of his scratchy trousers. Lydia was similarly struggling, mindlessly writhing in place to get her pesky clothes off. Both of them attained freedom in about the same time, Aaron thrusting down the moment his cock was freed. Lydia moaned as his member burned the skin in her thighs, making her pant in anticipation of that missed thrust. She pressed her hips up, grinding his cock, desperately wishing it would find its way into her flooding pussy. She was heaving air like there wasn't enough of it.

Finally, Aaron adjusted his position, and sank down.

Bliss.

His cock sank into liquid-hot depths of a needy place, sucking him in with the force of a vacuum, needing to be filled by his manhood. Aaron thrust everything he had in one go, his motion answered by a siren's wail of pleasure from Lydia. She raised her hips to his cock, taking all of him eagerly.

Aaron paused for a bit, relishing the wet velvety grip of the young woman's pussy, feeling vaguely like something is out of place. He even thought he could hear someone yelling at a distance, but that must've been just his imagination.

After all, how could anything else exist but this?

Aaron fluidly rolled his hips withdrawing from Lydia's pussy only to thrust back in again. He was rewarded with a writhing moan from the young girl before him. He watched her with her eyes half close, her pale face red with exertion and shiny with beads of perspiration. Her eyes were unseeing, glazed over with intense lust, and he followed her head as it thrashed left and right.

He rolled his hips again, his groin wet with fluids, his dick traversing and thoroughly knowing a path of a molten silky grip, a solid 'slap slap slap' marking the meeting of their flesh.

Aaron's hips churned. His shoulders bore his weight, and he ignored the strain of his muscles against it. He also ignored Lydia's nails which dug into his back like the claws of a predator, and he ignored the way his lungs burned for air. There was only the steady rhythm of his hips, the wet, scorching pleasure of Lydia's pussy sucking him whole.

Lydia tensed below him, her writhing subtly switching from indulgence into urgency. Her grip on him suddenly tightened.

Lydia swam in lust. The movement of the thick meat inside her molten channel drove her deeper and deeper into pleasure, the sensations in her core radiating out to every part of her body. She was sweltering hot, rivulets of sweat running down her forehead, her groin a growing mess of sex fluids. The young woman was vaguely aware that she was making noise, but she didn't really care. She moaned incoherently, her blubbering holding only a semblance of proper sentences.

She tensed. Something inside her was peaking -- something was approaching a point of no return. She was going to taste it again, that explosion of pleasure. She held her breath as she climbed -- and climbed -- and climbed.

She was in a point so high that it stole her breath -- her body crying out for what will happen next so hard that it almost hurt.

In the very next second, it came.

It was impossible to make sense of. It was like none other. She exploded in pleasure before, but now she was the explosion. A huge, white hot ball of sensation that grew and grew to cover up the whole world. And that expansion -- that moment in time where she grew and stretched and spread; that was her.

Eventually the young woman's breath came back to her, her limbs liquefying from the massive onslaught of sensation. Her magic bubbled somewhere inside her pleasured mind, having grown from a puddle into a veritable pond in one go, the abundance giving her an extra feeling of well-being. She breathed deep, panting, the musky scent of their joining thick in the air.

She tiredly stroked the arms of held on either side of her head, traced the muscles underneath the flesh, rubbed the sweat into the skin. She looked up from her position into the expectant face of her man, watching her with smoldering eyes that made her heart skip a beat.

"You're back" she whispered, disbelieving. He couldn't be back -- not like this. He was barely clinging to life just a little while ago. And something... Bad was about to happen. Something stirred in her memory, but it slipped in her mind. Maybe this was just a dream?

"Hello," he replied, his voice realer than ever.

He reached down kissed her jaw, the texture of his skin against hers sending little bolts of pleasure through her. She closed her eyes, loving the action thinking she couldn't possibly go through it again so soon. She would go crazy from the pleasure. But then she reflexively clenched her abdomen and felt him. She gasped.

"You're still hard," She half moaned.

As if he was just waiting for her to notice, Aaron started moving again.

"Ah-" Lydia protested, the slow stimulation making her lose her mind once more, "W- wait- it's too.. soon."

"Sorry"

"Y- you're not stopping,"

"I like hearing your breathless little moans" His hot breath tickled her ear, and she flinched as he gently nibbled on her lobe. The new sensation made her draw a long breath, unexpectedly driving her to the peak once more.

Aaron felt her weak legs wrap back around his hips, the helplessness clear in her strength surprisingly turning him on even more. He drew a breath and began to thrust languidly in tune to the young woman's resigned little moans, his dick a burning rod of pleasure. He pulled back so only his tip stayed in her warm embrace, and then drove slowly down until he bottomed out, his cock feeling every ridge and every folds in her molten pussy.

He took his time, languidly rejoicing in their combined pleasure, soaking himself in her heated touch, her heady scent, her musical whimpers. His body feasted on newfound energy like electricity travelling under his skin, begging to be used and released. The sensations of her radiated from his cock, to his core, to the very tips of his fingers and back again. Aaron had never felt so alive.

He sped up, his mind gearing on his approaching orgasm and positioned himself to give short, solid thrusts. He went down on his elbows beside her chest, her arms weakly nudged to wrap themselves around his head. His right knee placed a little higher than the other, giving him more balance but less leverage, but that didn't matter because he was fully inside her and only withdrawing an inch or two and then slamming back in, his hips starting to churn like clockwork.

Sweat bathed his body, collecting into little rivulets that raced down his back, down his arms and thighs into the soft carpet below. His groin was slick with their combined juices stirred to a froth by his fucking, making a mess that joined the both of them. The sounds of their skin echoed, the obscene 'splat splat splat' of their joining contributing to the force that drove him to the edge. He was close.

He sped up even more, the young woman below him raising her cries in response. She was clutching his hair in ecstasy, her last remaining strength expended to let her ride the oncoming wave of pleasure. Despite her tiredness her body tightened once again, her hip offered up to meet his thrusts.

Aaron slammed into her with all his might, rocking her body with power. Again and again and again and then -- he came .

His soul rushed out of him in a raging torrent into the liquid fire of Lydia's waiting pussy. His mind was filled with nothing but the white of pure pleasure, an explosion that rocked his very senses. For a split second he had a vision of an existence apart from himself, an existence of raw, unadulterated pleasure that sizzled and crackled like a newborn star.

And then his scattered mind converged back to his body. He realized he was screaming in pleasure. His head was thrown back and his mouth open wide, air having rushed out from his lungs. His cock was driven as far as it could humanly go into Lydia's pussy, and the woman was pressed almost violently between his arms and hips. Aaron collapsed on top of her, buzzing from his orgasm, panting from his efforts. His sweaty body glided slickly with the woman below him. Her spent limbs that was wrapped around him fell to the ground, the woman rendered unconscious.

Somehow, this didn't worry Aaron overmuch. He had just enough energy to glide from his position on top of Lydia so he wouldn't be crushing her, his tired frame spooning hers from the side. Ever the opportunist, he laid his hand on one perky, sweaty breast, gave it a light squeeze, and fell right asleep.

* * *

"I'll take first watch." Sershe offered to the figure sitting close to the fire, his broad back silhouetted by the minimal light from the miraculous hidden flame that he set up.

"Nay, shaman" he replied, turning to look at her "I cannot trust the safety of our companions to a whelp who even forgot to make a campfire for the night, in the middle of a great, unfamiliar jungle."

Her ears drooped, and her tail wagged closer to the ground in remorse. It was the most emotion she ever showed on her body for quite some time, but she could not help it. Out of all the people in her village, only the old Trasnu and the stern Leiyis could ever scold her with effect.

She had just put all of their lives in greater danger from her small oversight. A voice at the back of her head told her it wouldn't really matter, that a small camp fire wouldn't scare the mighty wolf from attacking them, not if the forest itself mandated their death. But shame cared not for rationality -- the fact that she forgot the most basic of basics revealed her carelessness.

"Oh, come off it" the old man said, "There you go again, with your agile mind. Running in circles, aren't ya? Worrying about things not in your power to do a thing about? That's why you couldn't get a man. Even that skinny little thing over there beat you to the prize."

"Trasnu!" She exclaimed, her shame turned into a lighter embarrassment.

"What? It's true. If I were you, that" he jerked her thumb towards the hollowed trunk behind him, "Would have been me right now. I'd be the one sleeping warmly. Or at least I'd be one of em." The old man winked at her mischievously, his scolding tone totally gone.

"It's not good speaking about them like that," she murmured, her tail tucked between her legs in discomfort, her ears drooping backwards. She sat in front of the old hunter in their little fire. It was a curious thing, two holes dug about two hand-spans into the ground connected by a tunnel. One was for the actual fire, and one is for feeding the fire with air. This allowed the flame to sit below the line of the forest floor, greatly reducing the exposed light and providing them with a much more concentrated heat.

"Oh, listen to the leaves talk" Trasnu laughed, "Don't tell me it didn't affect you. This here's an old man, too old for those things, mind you! And that made me sweep the floor with my tail! Now you, young un's." He left the sentence hanging, grinning knowingly at Sershe as he took a bite from a fruit.

Sershe's head sank. She couldn't respond -- she didn't have to. It was utterly impossible not to be affected.

Throughout the day the pair had in several occasions woken up from their exhaustion only to begin mindlessly rutting again, oblivious to the world around them. The sounds of their passion probably carried out leagues into the forest, the indecent noise of their joining slipping into her notice no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Even their scent was impossible to avoid. Not seeing them only furthered her imagination, and more than once throughout the day she had even caught herself enjoying the moistness in her core, honestly contemplating what would happen if she just... joined in.

She panicked at first, of course. It wasn't easy coming to terms with the fact that a man who was by all means dying recovered in a span of minutes, and was not... quite energetic. Nevertheless there was nothing she could do about it, and her senses told her that something magical was going on, so all they could do was wait for it to blow over.

She shook her head. It was strangely compelling -- alright, very compelling -- but it was still highly unnatural.

"I forgot to start a fire," she told the old hunter. Anything to take her mind off the recurring, abnormal temptation.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It wouldn't have made a difference."

"Wha- but, you just scolded me a while ago!"

"Yes. Made you feel bad, didn't it? Now you wouldn't forget."

Sershe stared in astonishment, his mischievous gray-flecked, red-brown coat making him appear like a carefree trickster in the half light of their fire. She buried her face in her hands and groaned. "You are a horrible person."

Trasnu laughed heartily at her expense.

A comfortable moment of silence descended between the two. The nighttime sounds of the forest, the slow crackling of their fire, all contributed to an aura of much-needed peace that Sershe luxuriated in. "I am glad you are alive, Trasnu."

The old beastman smiled at her, though she couldn't see it, buried as her head was in her hands and knees. Sershe was never one to show much emotions, but this situation is a special one. "You did mighty well today, Sershe. Mighty well. Your teacher Leiyis would be proud. I am also glad you are alive, honored shaman."

Sershe secretly wiped the sudden tears of relief that spilled from her eyes, hoping that the old man would not notice. She would never admit it to anyone, but she had been so, so scared. In the span of several short days, the world which she knew was overturned yet again. She had gone from knowing the freedom of a simple life to the crushing bondage of slavery, emerging in hope into a world yet more different, one where mysterious humans fought-for by gods existed, one where she had to defend against primeval powers.

A great burden lifted itself from her heart, and although she was still afraid, she was more hopeful now, having lived another day and recovered a trusted companion.

She sniffled, the old man kind enough to pretend not to notice her predicament, warming his hands by the fire.

"What now?" she asked, wiping away her tears.

"Now you rest, and I'll take first watch."

She thought of arguing, but realized she was beyond tired. A yawn escaped her lips even at the thought of sleep, and with a bid to wake her up after a couple of hours, she went off to sleep. She thought that the copse she made with her powers would be a fine place to sleep in.

"Trasnu," she suddenly called, halfway.

"Hmm?"

"You think we'll be alright?"

The old man contemplated for a bit. "We are caught up in a something greater than any of us now, shaman. Alright? I do not know. But it will be mighty interesting, that's for sure."