Welcome to "The Night Before the Dawn"! This is a series of mostly random RD lemon pairings. Given that this is the first chapter, I figured I'd go for a more generic pairing at first, especially since it's a pairing that has almost no lemons for it. Feel free to recommend any pairings, but I'll probably only do hetero and yuri, since I don't find yaoi to be all that interesting to write, but you can try. Anyway, on with the story.
Running Away
It was cold and dark among the ruins. Heavy, billowing clouds drifted overhead, cutting off the moon and stars, leaving only a black, velvety vacuum where the sky used to be. The road was in bad shape; the cobbled bricks were jagged and protruding, and moss had taken hold in more than one dank corner. The buildings were no better, with dark, glowering windows and splintered doors that revealed their gaping mouths. Some of them were in pieces, their broken walls growing out of the ground like an evil root. Behind one of these walls cowered a young woman.
She was a very pretty girl, with soft, feminine features and a striking face, crowned in a mist of silvery hair. Her eyes were like two gold coins glinting in the dark, as sweet as honey. Her lips were full and inviting when she smiled, and even more so when they pouted fearfully, as she did now. She was clad in simple peasant's attire; a sleeveless maroon dress stretched from her neck to her mid-thigh; and black leggings, dark as the overcast sky bearing down on her, tightly clutched the rest of her legs. A long blue scarf coiled around her neck, matching a blue ribbon tied to her hair. It was easy to see why the guards would pursue her, even if they did not know she was the legendary Silver-Haired Maiden.
Footsteps; Micaiah, crouched behind the dilapidated wall, pushed herself deeper into the shadows. Her arms were held tight across her chest, hands clasped, gently holding an orange bird. The bird's wings fluttered against her fingers as the heavy, metallic footsteps of a uniformed soldier came closer. Torchlight flooded through the cracks in the stone partition, nearly blinding her in its unexpected brightness, before dimming away as the footsteps receded into the night.
Micaiah sighed, pulling her arms tighter around herself as a cool breeze wormed its way through the ruins. It was amazing how these ruins seemed to have been there for generations, their cold, blank faces enduring the test of time. In reality, they were three years old, dating back to the Mad King's War when the small town was largely destroyed by Crimean troops. It was currently being used as a storage depot by the Begnion Occupational Forces, a dump to throw all the goods they stole from the broken nation they conquered.
She could hear another pair of steel boots clanking her way to her in the night, and she froze, hardly daring to breathe. Where was Sothe? Another flash of light, and the boots vanished. He had promised to meet her on the east side of the ruins if they were separated, and Micaiah had fully expected the skilled thief to get there first after the patrol had caught them breaking a lock inside the main storage building. But he hadn't, and Micaiah didn't dare attempt to traverse the labyrinthine town with the Begnion soldiers stalking about; she had hardly been able to get to her current position in the first place.
More clanking; two pairs of feet approaching, from either side. Two bulbs of light shafted through the crumbling wall on both side of her, and she began to panic, feeling her heart pound wildly beneath her dainty breasts.
The footsteps stopped: "Found anything yet?" asked a gruff voice.
"No sir," a younger voice replied, arms banging to attention.
"Hmm..." Micaiah's delicate nose picked up the heavy stench of alcohol. "Dammit, I was hopin' to have some fun tonight. Catchin' the Silver-Haired Maiden would probably earn me a promotion, don't you think, soldier?"
"I believe it would, sir."
"Yeah, me too, me too... Well, keep looking, and - what was that sound?"
Micaiah's petite frame froze, fear coursing through her veins. In her tension, she had squeezed Yune, her bird, too hard and the stupid animal had chirped! What was she going to do? A series of images flicked through her mind a breakneck pace, all featuring her being tortured at the hand of a red-shelled, white-haired general. Her heart was like a bass drum thumping in her ears, drowning out all coherent thought. They were moving closer, she could smell the alcohol nearing... Yune - stupid bird! - was still fluttering madly in her hands when, with a rush of wings, took flight, soaring past the guards into the black sky.
A moment or two of silence. "It was just a bird," the younger voice said, voice tinged with disappointment.
There was quiet murmuring, masked by the pounding of her heart, then, the officer's voice: "Nothin' to see here, I guess. Get back to your patrol, soldier."
Micaiah could hardly believe her luck. They were leaving, the metal boots moving away in their own respective directions along the road. A long sigh rattled from her throat, and her face fell in her hands, body shaking. She had nearly slipped down the abyss into death, and the experience shook her like a leaf. A slight noise; Micaiah looked up just in time to see a powerful hand grab her arm.
With a gasp of fright, she was pulled to her feet by the arm, and a young man in blood-red armor clamped down on her. An older man came into view from the other side, a cruel smile darkening his features, a flickering torch in his left hand. "I knew I heard somethin'! Looks like we hit the jackpot, boy!"
"Yes, we did, sir!" The younger man pulled Micaiah closer, pressing her body against his cold armor. A mix of shock and terror filled the young woman's face, beating her into silence and submission.
She heard more footsteps coming, and more bundles of red armor gathered around them, every one growing a greedy smile on their lips upon recognizing their captive. There were six of them now, crowding around her as the young man wrapped a thick cord around her wrists, immobilizing her.
The officer stepped closer, lifting Micaiah's chin delicately with a long, thick finger. He leaned his face closer to hers, close enough that she could see every hair that made up the snow-white moustache wrapping around his moist lips. His black eyes glittered mischievously as he studied her, hand caressing her face. "So you're the Silver Haired Maiden, eh? Quite a looker, aren't you? I'm sure the general won't mind if you're a bit late..." A low laugh rumbled in his chest.
Micaiah squirmed hopelessly in the young man's grasp, praying Sothe would arrive soon. The faces of the guards loomed over her, wolfish smiles baring their teeth. They seemed to grow, occupying her whole field of vision, the sparkling white of their incisors blinding her. The old officer's calloused hands gripped her shoulders, preparing to delve deeper into her intimacy. She scrunched and wiggled as best she could, but the young man grabbed her hair, yanking it back, and Micaiah shrieked with pain and surprise, leaning her whole body backwards, leaving it open to assault. "If you don't wanna get hurt, don't resist..." the young man's voice husked into her ear. A rough hand was touching her breast now, boorishly rubbing it, the other hand sliding down her back to squeeze her plump ass. She tried to fight back, but the other guard pulled her long, silvery hair again. "What's the matter, Maiden?" the grey-haired officer taunted, crushing her breast in his powerful hand. "Can't fight back now, can you?" More hands were touching her, caressing her entire body, lifting up her dress, feeling the bare skin underneath. Tears of pain and hopelessness streamed down her face, her golden eyes shimmering. "Okay, girlie, we're gonna have some more fun now... Get-!"
There was a thump, a sharp cry, and a thud as the officer fell to the ground. Nobody moved for a moment, frozen in the act of rape. They all stared silently at the bleeding corpse of the officer, sprawled on the ground before her, a steel knife growing out of his back. One of Micaiah's captors, removing his hand from her thigh, reached for his sword, then - Slice! - he fell to the ground, blood spewing from his ruined throat. In his place stood a green-haired man wielding a crimson dagger, green eyes burning like a forest aflame.
Micaiah fell to the ground as the men dropped her, drawing cruel, glimmering weapons. The torch fell to the ground, and long shadows danced across the walls, wriggling to the rhythmical beat of their screams and shouts. Another cry; the young man fell to the ground beside her, his sword gleaming sharply. She slid her corded arms around the blade, then squeezed it between the thin cords and her soft back. Pain stabbed inward from her back, and she felt the practiced edge begin to cut into her back before the cords fell to pieces.
She quickly got to her feet, opening her spell book. A few feet away, it was three on one now, Sothe jumping and leaping; bloodied dagger flashing in the torchlight while the Begnion soldiers hacked patiently with their swords. Sothe was tiring, and she saw him stumble, and one of the soldiers, face twisted into a grin of triumph, move in for the kill. He cut down, Sothe leapt to the side; the edge sliced right through the tip of his shoulder, spraying blood into the air. Micaiah gasped, flicking desperately through her book. The ancient words were blurred by the tears misting her vision, flowing back as fast as she could brush them away. Finally, she reached the right page, and began to read, her tongue slipping on the harsh words as lungs began to heave with sobs. Sothe was still fighting, but barely surviving. His shoulder was drenched in blood oozing from the wound, and numerous other cuts colored his body. She had to help him.
She stopped reading, the spell cast. A ball of white light spun on her palm, its brilliance growing with every passing moment. In a few seconds, it would burst outward, blinding anyway gazing in its general direction. Then; a violent curse mixed with a desperate sob split from her trembling lips. The guards weren't looking at her! The spell would do no good if they had their backs to her... The ball began to condense, readying itself to explode-
Micaiah screamed.
Every eye turned to her, her high, piercing scream tearing through the night like a banshee's wail. Then the ball exploded. A brief instance of sheer brilliance, then the night retook control. All three guards fell to the ground, moaning, arms over their damaged eyes. Sothe alone stood standing, though even he, who had turned away a moment before Micaiah's light had burst, was dazed and stumbling. Micaiah ran to him, taking his hand and pulling him away from the guards. Sothe began to run as well, dragging Micaiah behind him as they sprinted away from the prone soldiers. They could hear more footsteps approaching from the shadows behind them, but hey just ran faster, spurred on by the sight of trees patterned behind the last of the dead buildings.
Barely a flash of movement in the corner of their vision, the final building fell away behind them, and they were in the forest. Trees skirted past them as they ran, building a wall of nature to shield them against the guards still in pursuit. They could hear the metallic echo of their boots against the stones that littered the ground, never wavering, ever faltering. Micaiah began to tire, a stitch in her side slowing her down. Sothe slowed down as well, not wanting to leave his silver-haired companion, a lover in all but practice, behind. The heavy footfalls of steel boots began to amplify behind them, filling their ears with the rushing of their panicked hearts.
Micaiah's calves were burning, the fire spreading up through her thighs. She wasn't used to long distance sprints like these; escapes in the city only contained about a minute of hard running before the guards were lost in the city. But out here...
They were coming closer, close enough she could hear the tiny clinks of metal against metal from their blood red armor. Micaiah cursed the silver hair that glowed radiantly in the moonlight, a shining arrow for the Begnion soldiers to follow.
A strong hand clamped on her arm. Micaiah shrieked, trying to jerk away, but it pulled her down, into the bushes. Micaiah struggled, eyes wide, her chest expanding as she took in a deep breath to scream for help. Already, she could feel the hands probing her, violating her, just like before...
Another hand pressed itself over her lips and pulled her head back. Sothe's green eyes gazed cautioningly at her, and Micaiah slowly relaxed, lying motionless in his arms. Her heart was beating faster than it ever had before, screaming in her ears. Her vision was blurred, and Micaiah realized she was hyperventilating. What was wrong? She had been captured before, why was a hand grabbing her wrist so awful?
That awful, white-mustached man was touching her again, desecrating the body she had saved for so many years. Never before had her captor assaulted her like that. They had always kept their distance, distrusting, fearing her, unable to understand the powers she possessed. A lot of good they did her when those men, the men chasing her now, had abused her face and breasts and thighs with those cruel, bloodstained fingers...
Micaiah shuddered, and Sothe pulled her deeper into the bushes where they hid. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight, and Micaiah began to feel safe again, away from that hideous white head. Suddenly, Sothe swore. "You're hair!" he whispered furiously, immediately dropping his hold on her. Micaiah jumped, looking at him with shock and hurt, feeling wronged. It wasn't her fault she had been born with hair the same color as the moon... But, in a quick, fluid motion, Sothe removed his shirt, wrapping it around her head. "There..." he murmured into her ear, hugging her again. Micaiah nearly cried, wondering how she could ever think he would hurt her. She could taste his masculine scent in the folds of his shirt, and it sent a shudder of passion through her. Seeing Sothe pull his shirt off so quickly and gracefully had ignited a tiny flicker of lust that burned away some of the fear that clouded her mind and body. A little part of her even left the terror of the moment to see Sothe perform the same motion while the two were alone together, in each other's arms. She dug deeper into his hard chest, a feeling of protection washing over her.
The clunk of metal on wood rang through the woodlands. Five soldiers, three from before and two picked up along during the escape, fanned through the forest around them, flickering torches licking upwards with their dull red light. Deep shadows fell across their bodies as they curled together in the depths of the bush, the outline of its branches and leaves traced across their bodies. Neither breathed, and Micaiah could hear Sothe's heart racing in tandem with her own, declaring the fear that he hid so well on the outside. A warm feeling overcame her, and her soul yearned for Sothe, wanting to comfort him as he comforted her, entwined together. Her white hand, propped up on his hard, lean chest, drank in his strength and sensitivity, her index finger stroking the tough skin. She loved him, she realized. Not just as her only family, but as a lover as well. As soldiers encircled them, fingers of light probing through the branches of their bush, Micaiah scrunched up on top of him, tears running down her face, wondering why she had never done anything about it. What if they were captured? What if they were killed?
The guards shifted through the forest around them, muttering to each other. Their dark eyes scanned each tree with suspicious venom, their fingers spreading apart leaves to peer through foliage. "I swear, I saw them stop around here," whispered a young man to an older one with officer marks on his shoulder. "Besides, we can't hear them running anymore." They were hardly ten feet away, and Sothe's arms stiffened around Micaiah's body, drawing her closer.
They moved closer. Micaiah felt Sothe finger the knife strapped to his leg, ready to draw at a moment's notice. But she knew they would never survive a fight.
They moved closer. The younger man was pulling apart branches and twigs while the older one hovered above him with the torch. The other guards behaved similarly at nearby clumps of bushes.
They moved closer. The salty taste of tears stained Micaiah's tongue, and a dry sob racked her chest. Sothe immediately pulled her as tight as he could, his arms steeled against her back. She stared her teary, shimmering eyes into his wide, fearful ones. They kissed, for the first time.
They froze; lips touching, eyes closed, arms tight around each other. The guards stopped at their bush. The young man bent over -
- and over -
- and over -
- "Ashera!"
Micaiah still didn't move, knowing it was the end. Then: "What the hell is going on over there?" That voice came from just above them, and Micaiah sensed the soldier standing straight up again. "Goddess, the stupid son-of-a-bitch set a bush on fire!" The heavy clank of metal ran away from them, and Micaiah opened her eyes. Through the dark leaves, she could see a large, flickering flame growing about twenty feet distant. All the guards were gathered around it, trying to smother it with whatever materials they had, with no success. She looked behind her; the two guards were gone, off to fight the fire.
She began to cry, all her pent-up terror and sorrow pouring out her eyes, the low sobs hidden beneath the shouts of the guards. Sothe held her, murmuring into her ear, stroking her back, kissing her cheek. The guards, failing to beat the fire down, were cutting away branches and throwing rocks onto the ground to keep it from spreading. When the job was finished, they left, muttering and cursing at their misfortune. There was silence among the trees.
Sothe and Micaiah crawled out of their bush, and stood, clutching each other in the night. Sothe's hand clasped his shoulder, its fingers reddening. Micaiah gently lifted his hand away, studying the wound: a dark red slash, long by shallow. Rivulets of blood ran down his shoulder and arm, staining the fair skin. Taking a deep, calming breath, Micaiah placed her own hand on the wound, its warmth repulsing her. Nevertheless, pulling her hidden power from the depths of her soul, a glowing white aura pulsed from her hand. Sothe sighed with relief as his wound vanished, only the blood to tell it was ever there. Micaiah, dropped her hand away, relieved that it had been so minor as well, hardly tired by the healing at all.
Both began to take in the heavy forest around them for the first time. Neither had any idea where they were. They began to walk empty-handed, away from the ruins that had nearly killed them.
The moon hovered above them, its soft white light glowing on their skin. The cold night air began to prick at her open flesh. Micaiah felt her eyes being drawn to Sothe's muscled torso, still bared. She pulled his shirt off her head, handing to him. He held out his hand, refusing to take it. She wrapped it around her shoulders, grateful for the extra warmth.
The soft burble of running water touched their ears, its light innocence soothing. Micaiah sighed, feeling her fears slip away. They had been walking for over two hours at least, and the ruins with their blood-colored guards were far behind them. Stepping through the trees, they saw the stream, running gracefully through its course, sparkling with little diamonds of light cast down by the moon. There was a small hillock, and down its slope swept a patch of wild flowers, shining white in the moonlit darkness. The sight was beautiful, and Micaiah slipped her hand into Sothe's fingers without thinking. Sothe squeezed gently, rubbing her palm with his thumb. They stopped, lost in the romance of the view, worries thrown away in the beauty of nature.
"If, if you're tired, we can sleep right here, if you want..." Sothe said, whispering without realizing it. He glanced down at her.
"That would be wonderful," Micaiah answered, looking back up at him, losing herself in the yellow-green forest in his eyes. A spark of lust channeled between their pupils, and Sothe leaned forward into her, his lips catching her own. Micaiah lifted herself onto the tips of her toes, wrapping her arms around Sothe's bare shoulders. She let his tongue part her cherry lips, pushing inside to caress the moist, warm mouth within. They fell deeper and deeper into their kiss, and their inhibitions fell away one by one as wild, provocative dreams stormed in their hearts. Sothe's hands were perched on her sides, stroking up and down from her waist to her hips. They were warm and gentle, protecting her from the damp wind nature breathed on them.
Micaiah broke the kiss, resting her head on his bare shoulder. She touched his arm, the skin cold and rough with goosebumbs. She rubbed it, enjoying its lean muscles. He was so strong and attractive... How had she not seen it before? She was so used to the image of him as a boy, the brooding child who had been like a little brother, even a son in some ways. He was no longer that boy. He was a man now, and she wanted to touch him with the warm caress of her love.
A sharp breeze, damp with spray from the creek, cut through them. Sothe shivered, and his arms closed around her, pressing her tight against his body. The breeze passed, and Sothe slowly released her. "Sorry," he muttered, holding her at arm's length. "Did... did I hurt you?"
Micaiah shook her head, removing Sothe's shirt from her shoulders. "Put it back on, you'll catch a cold," she said sternly, one hand on her hip as the other pressed the green fabric into his abdomen.
"No, no, I'm fine," Sothe answered, refusing to take it from her outstretched hand. Nature breathed again, and the rush of the leaves surrounded them.
"Please, Sothe?"
"I'm not really cold, and you are, I can tell. Just keep it."
"Well, we'll just have to suffer together then," Micaiah replied, her voice firm. She folded the shirt and placed in carefully on the dry side of a rock. She bent her arms up her back to reach the buttons that ran down the back of her dress. "Can you help me with this?"
"What?" Sothe said, obviously confused.
"Help me get my dress off," Micaiah answered, still grappling with the small metal circles. "If you're not wearing a shirt, neither am I.
"But-"
"Sothe." Her voice left no room for argument. Sothe's hands slipped around her, encircling her like the walls of a castle. One by one, the buttons released, and the creamy triangle of flesh beneath the dress grew and grew until, finally, it fell to the ground. Micaiah was left shivering in her underwear and black tights, which she rolled down her elegant thighs. The dress and tights were placed next to Sothe's shirt.
Another strong wind prickled at their skin. Micaiah shuddered terribly, holding herself against Sothe, letting his warmth seep into her. "See?" Sothe murmured, stroking her silvery hair. "Now we're both miserable."
"I'm not miserable."
"Neither am I."
They held each other for a moment longer, savoring the closeness. Then: "Perhaps we should go to bed," Sothe whispered, kissing the top of her pearly head. She nodded, and they separated. Sothe dropped his belt and knives onto the ground next to the clothes, and they reclined on the leeward slope of a small hillock. Only partially shielded from the chilly breeze, they clutched each other, letting their own body heat warm the other.
Both lying on their side above the dry grass, Sothe kissed Micaiah's forehead. His hand touched her shoulder, rubbing it, drawing a red flush into the skin. Micaiah inched closer, wrapping her arm around him. The wind snaked down the curve of the hillock, and, though they both shivered, Micaiah shuddered like a leaf.
"You're freezing."
"No I'm not." Micaiah shook her head, nuzzling Sothe's chest.
His hand glided across her bare spine. "Yes, you are."
"Well, you're cheating. You still have pants on, and I'm just wearing my underwear."
"Is this a contest?" asked Sothe, smiling at her as she looked up at him.
Micaiah blushed when she saw Sothe's grin, and buried her face back into his shoulder. "...Yes."
"Well, to be fair..." Sothe's hands left her, gripping the hem of his cotton pants and pushing them down his muscled thighs. He kicked them off and pushed them away. "Now we're even."
After a brief chuckle, neither spoke. Sothe's hand was touching her arm again, sweeping up and down its length. Micaiah felt her own finger poke Sothe's ribs, tracing the hard muscle she found there. Desired bubbled within her, and her thighs shifted slightly of their own design. Her legs tucked inward, her body bending at the waist, and along the way she felt something hard prod against them. A quick glance down yielded a crimson blush, and she closed her eyes. He was quite obviously erect.
Micaiah's body froze up, and for the first time, it had nothing to do with the cold. She wanted him.
Her thighs, which had backed off as soon as she had discovered what they had touched by accident, nudged closer again. She hardly knew what she was doing; only that she was doing it. She was going to touch him, to invite him inside. When she closed her eyes, an image of his naked body towering over her, pushing himself in was imprinted on the lids. She had a feeling a similar image was gracing his mind as well, and the suspicion was confirmed when her thigh felt his penis. The long, hard erection thrusted out through his undershorts, digging into the soft, fatty tissue of her leg. Swallowing hard in anticipation, she began to shift her thigh back and forth, onto and off his cloth-covered erection. His hand stopped its tender caresses, and Micaiah felt his breath catch in his throat.
"Micaiah..." whispered Sothe in a voice low and almost inaudible, his motionless hand beginning to grip her arm. Micaiah continued, pressing her legs into his, allowing his clothing-covered erection to explore the nether regions between her thighs, even allowing it to brush against her panties. Now they were nearly flat against each other, both on their sides, their bodies fitting together like a jigsaw. Sothe shifted down, kissing her ear and cheek and neck, tasting the sweet skin. Micaiah's body convulsed with anticipation, and she turned over onto her back, thighs spreading apart without her knowledge. Sothe hovered above her, caressing her sides and abdomen with a gentle hand. His tender kisses left her white skin sensitive and tingling, and her arms looped around his neck.
Her desire speaking for her, Micaiah gulped. "I think I'm the one cheating now..." she whispered, wanting Sothe to tear her clothes right off her body.
"How so?" murmured Sothe through his kisses, touching his lips to Micaiah's again.
"My- my bra. I'm not sure it's fair that I get to wear clothing on my chest, and you don't..." She felt his gaze glide down to her chest.
"Really? But, but my undershorts have more fabric than your panties, so then I'd be wearing more than you."
"Maybe... I think perhaps we should just both be naked. Then we wouldn't have this issue..." The words hung in the air above them, stroking their needs and desires. Both were silent for a moment, and Sothe gazed into her eyes, surprise etched on his stolid face. Micaiah was rather shocked at her daring as well, but pleased even more. It was his move now: take it, or leave it.
A moment's hesitation, then: "...You're right. The only way to be fair is if we don't wear any clothes at all."
Heart thumping, Micaiah felt his hands release her, pushing down his underwear. He was naked, and he was watching her expectantly. "Can you help me?" she asked quietly, fingering the silk bra imprisoning her chest. Sothe's hands, so sweet and gentle, roved up her abdomen, cupping the two mounds of flesh they encountered. Micaiah shuddered, face deep red, and his fingers pulled the cups down, dropping them off their breasts so they lied uselessly beneath. He rubbed them softly, tracing circles around the hardening nipple. Micaiah moaned, thrusting her chest outward into his welcoming grasp. One hand left her breast for a brief moment to unhook the bra and throw it away, before returning and cradling it again. Her breasts swelled in his embrace, her nipples growing willfully. Two fingers plucked at one of them, pulling and stretching her soft mound by its rosy peak. Micaiah's moaned again, feeling as if her body was trying to both stretch out and turn in on itself at the same time.
As her pleasure grew in tandem with her lust and desire, Micaiah suddenly wanted to go forward, deeper into this sinful act. "D-don't forget my panties..." she stuttered, her shoulders convulsing with the pleasure radiating from her chest.
"How could I forget?" Sothe murmured into her ear, kissing it as one hand traveled all the way firm her breast down her abdomen until they collided with the silk underwear that was the only obstacle between Sothe and Micaiah's innocence. The fingers rubbed her through the fabric, and her thighs closed and opened around his hand, unable to contain her lust. Without further ado, he dragged the moist fabric down her long, white thighs before coming back slowly, taking his time. He savored the warm softness of her legs, enjoying the way both her breath and heart beneath her chest quickened as his hand slid closer and closer.
Then, with a gentle kiss, his fingers penetrated her, caressing her soft flesh. Micaiah gasped, wriggling as his fingers dug deeper and deeper. She took hold of her own breast, the one being neglected as Sothe's one hand pulsed between her legs, and played with it lecherously, squeezing and rubbing and pinching, her flood of lust drowning her in its turbulent waters. Sothe's head fell to her chest, his tongue lapping her taut nipple into his lips, flicking and sucking it in the rich warmth of his mouth. Micaiah's breathing was labored and gasping, every fiber of her being possessed by pleasure.
Then - with a long, shuddering sigh, Micaiah climaxed in Sothe's arms, falling limp against the soft grass. Her chest rose and fell with deep movements, breasts, both red and swollen from their rough handling, moving in tandem. Sothe lied down next to her, slipping his hand beneath her neck to wrap around her shoulders. Both were silent.
Micaiah turned over deeper into Sothe's arms. Her soft, crimson lips kissed his chest, her hand gently stroking the hard contours of his muscles. Another feeling of desire stabbed into her heart, pushing her further into him. Her lonely hand wandered down his body, shyly slipping closer and closer to the piece of his body most attractive to her at the moment. With a deep blush of embarrassment, she felt her fingers touch the hard erection pointing to the moon above. She gripped it tightly, yearning for it. Her soft hand began to shift, sliding up and down the flesh shaft slowly. His body tensed beneath her, and it seemed to grow even more into her loving grasp. Pleased, Micaiah stroked faster, gradually skirting her body down closer to his erection. Micaiah sensed Sothe's breathing becoming more ragged, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the grass beneath him. Her head slowly drifted nearer to his penis, attracted by its pure sexuality. Her hand skated purposefully up and down the erection until, on a whim, she held it still in her long white fingers and touched its head to her cherry-red lips.
Her warm tongue lashed out across the head, lassoing in its attractive, masculine taste. A muscle in Sothe's leg jerked with pleasure, and his soft voice touched upon her ear: "Micaiah..." Another lick, and Sothe gasped. Micaiah, enjoying the pleasure Sothe got from her, ran her tongue up and down the shaft of his penis once before letting the hard, wonderful erection slide into the balmy warmth of her mouth. "M-Micaiah!" She let it sit for a moment or two, soaking in the lusty heat of her body, before beginning to bob her head, pushing her head down onto the erection and pulling it off. Its soft head rubbed against the roof of her mouth and even, in one daring push, against the back of her throat. Her own arm curled inward, touching her other hand to her breast. As her mouth pleasured Sothe's penis, her fingers did the same to her breast, energetically rubbing and squeezing the tight nipples that decorated her chest. The current of sexual energy that flowed from her chest spilled into her other actions, causing her to suck on Sothe with a vigor that would have shamed a professional. Sothe cried out; in an instant Micaiah's mouth and throat were filled with the warm seed of Sothe's would-be-children. Coughing and spluttering, Micaiah pulled her head away as Sothe climaxed again, spraying her face.
Micaiah sat up, wiping the semen off her cheek and forehead with her hand as Sothe lie panting beside her. She couldn't believe she had done that. The very thought of touching a man's penis to her mouth felt filthy, yet... yet she felt alive. She felt a certain pride within her heart for giving Sothe so much pleasure so quickly, given that it was her first time.
With a quick, feral movement, Sothe tackled her to the ground. Gasping in surprise, Micaiah saw his forest-green head loom over her before his lips collided firmly into hers. Their tongues lassoed around each other, and Micaiah's eyes closed, her dark eyelashes decorating her fair cheeks. Sothe lifted off her, kneeling over her. In the murky blackness of the night, Micaiah saw a silhouette of his lower body jam forward, thrusting himself towards her. With a sharp stab of pain and pleasure lancing through her body, Micaiah felt Sothe's erection penetrate the very core of her body. She gasped, and her fingers digging into the ground beside her, tearing up the flowers that swept across the hillock. A tiny trickle of blood ran from her, but she hardly cared, losing herself in the joy and pleasure as Sothe slowly drew away and pushed back, again and again. Micaiah cried out as one of his hands swiped at her chest, picking up a tender breast in its rough caress. Her body writhed with pleasure, silver hair dancing about her face as her frame rocked back and forth with each of Sothe's thrusts. Then, Micaiah let out a final cry as she ran headlong into her climax, only seconds before Sothe did the same.
They collapsed into each other, their bodies tangled atop the flower-covered hillock. Neither spoke, content to hold the other in their arms until both drifted off into sleep.
With the first glimmer of light on the horizon, both were awake, determined to make it back to Nevassa and the rest of the Dawn Brigade as soon as possible. As they trekked through the woods that lived and breathed around them, Sothe asked, "What'll we tell Nolan and the others? We completely failed our mission."
Micaiah looked back over, cocking her head back and smiling: "We'll just say we got lost in the woods."
"They won't believe that. We told them before we left that we knew the woods like the backs of our hands."
"Hey - it's a lot different at night."
Sothe grinned back at her. "Indeed it is." A moment's pause, then: "Was it worth it, though? What we went through to get to where we got? I mean, if the guards had come out looking again, they might have found us. We weren't really being discreet..."
Micaiah thought back to the night before. Images of their near capture inside the main keep at the castle, the guards patrolling as she hid, her near rape, their desperate escape, their lovemaking... Leaning onto Sothe's shoulder, she answered: "It was very much worth it."
Well, I hope you liked it. Any reviews are greatly appreciated, and remember that you can request any pairings you want me to do.