Chapter Three - Into The Blue

There was nothing innocent about this kiss. It was hot and frantic and urgent, and it went and it went on and on and on. It was simultaneously exactly what Stephanie wanted, and not nearly enough. Fiercely she pushed his hat from his head and ran her fingers through his hair. It was lighter than she had imagined, and fell down over his forehead in thick, untidy waves.

In one smooth movement, his mouth never leaving hers, Sportacus pulled her to her feet. One arm went around her back and slid firmly downwards, holding her tightly against him; she could feel his hardness pressed against her, and she thought she might faint with the bliss of knowing how much he wanted her. Finally he took his mouth from hers. She could see the flush on his cheeks and his breath was short.

"You're sure this is what you want?" he whispered.

"Isn't it what you want?"

He smiled and glanced downwards. "I think it's pretty obvious what I want." She blushed. "But that's not important, what matters to me is how you feel about it. If you want to stop, at any time, just say and we will. There's no rush, I want this to be right…"

"This is right. This is the rightest, sweetest thing that has ever happened to me. Please, please, don't stop…"

He smiled. "Well, in that case…" he slipped her cardigan from her shoulders, then gently peeled off her torn, damp camisole: Stephanie quivered. His fingers found the straps of her bra, fumbled, hesitated. "And what is this?" She could here the amusement in his voice.

"What do you mean, what is it? It's underwear, all women wear it."

"Not where I come from. It's pretty, but what do you wear it for? Why does it go underneath everything else?"

"Women in Iceland don't wear underwear?"

"Well, clearly not the women I used to know. Now, are there any more layers underneath, or have I finally got to the end?" Gently he unfastened the belt of her trousers, and they fell to the floor. "No, I see there's still more I never knew about human women…"

Another moment of amused investigation, and she stood before him completely naked, her skin glowing in the cool white light of the air-ship. The rain continued to drum on the roof.

"Now it's my turn," she said softly. She unfastened the buckle of his belt, and in a moment he was as naked as she was. "So I take it that the men in Iceland don't wear underwear either?" she asked, trailing her fingers over his chest, down over the solid muscles of his stomach, and down, down, down.

"We…oh, Stephanie…" he murmured as she continued to explore. "I can't possibly answer questions…while you're touching me there…no, please, you don't have to stop…we can talk about… underwear…or culinary delicacies…or cultural traditions…fishing…modes of transport…oh, sweetheart, that's amazing, that's absolutely amazing…or whatever else you want to know about…but please, please, let's do all of that later…" He reached out for her.

His hands, those big, broad, warm hands, were running over her body. The skin was dry and lightly callused, and its roughness against the smoothness of her back sent shivers down her spine. She pressed against him, wanting to feel his chest lying against hers. He groaned, and laid his mouth over hers again, then lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

"Bed!" he called to the ship, and the bed folded down from the wall. Still holding her against him, he laid her gently down on top of the duvet. Now he was kissing and stroking her nipples, sending lines of fire down to her groin, and she realised she was moaning out loud with the tantalising pleasure of it. She wanted to please him as much as he was pleasing her, but she realised in a panic she had no idea what to do - how to touch him. Why didn't I ask Trixie what you're supposed to do? she thought frantically to herself.

"Sportacus," she whispered. Instantly he took his hands off her.

"Too much? Too fast?"

"No, it's incredible, please don't stop…I…I just wanted to tell you something…it's - it's my first time, I've never done any of this before…I don't really know what to do…" she could hardly look at him. "Do you mind?"

He turned her face towards his.

"I am honoured," he said gravely, without a trace of mockery. "Do you hear me? I am absolutely, completely honoured."

"But I don't know what to do, I don't know how to - please you - "

He smiled wryly.

"Stephanie, believe me, that is the very last thing you need to worry about," he said. "Just being this close to you is almost more than I can - " he stopped, and bit his lip. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes…"

He began kissing her nipples again. One hand was stroking her stomach, moving over her body in smooth, confident caresses. Now he was touching her with nothing but his lips and his fingertips, following a slow, teasing trail down through her pubic hair, caressing her thighs, his blue eyes focused on her face, watching every change in expression. She closed her eyes, embarrassed by how much she needed him to continue, waiting desperately for his fingers to arrive at the very centre of her…

Now only the ball of his thumb was touching her, and she thought she would explode with need and frustration. She moaned pleadingly and pushed upwards against his hand, like a cat begging to be stroked. And at last, as if this was the signal he'd been waiting for, his hand slid up between her thighs and one finger came to rest, exquisitely, on the exact spot she needed him to find.

He bent his head and kissed her neck, nuzzling against her earlobe. His breathing was hard and ragged. Then he began to stroke her, slowly and firmly, and she felt as though her entire body was turning to liquid fire. A wave of pleasure was building in her, growing higher and higher with every blissful caress, and she was dimly aware that he was kissing her breasts again, and every touch of his mouth and tongue radiated straight down to that spot where his hand was stroking, touching, loving. She lay still, wanting to touch him too but unable to move, completely paralysed with pleasure, murmuring, "Don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop," and then, for an agonising second he did stop, and she heard herself cry out loud in frustration. Then his hand was moving on her again, rubbing harder and faster now, and the wave grew higher, higher, higher, until at last it broke and washed over her body, drowning her in a tide of blissful, overwhelming sexual release.

Dazed with ecstasy, she turned to him and kissed him. His hands trembled on her body, and she realised that he had been completely, unselfishly devoted to her pleasure only.

"Now tell me what you want," she whispered, encircling him with her fingers.

He closed his eyes.

"Stephanie," he moaned. "Oh, Stephanie, I want…I would so love to…I've got no right to ask…darling, please, just keep doing that, that's enough, that's wonderful …"

Instinctively she guessed what he was too honourable to ask her for, and without hesitation she rolled him fiercely on top of her, guiding him with her hand. For a moment more he hesitated, then she arched upwards towards him so that the very tip of him was touching her, and he couldn't hold back any more. There was one moment of sharp, tearing pain, but it was swallowed up in the joy of feeling him deep inside her, of finally knowing they were as close as two people could be to each other. She kissed him, tangling her fingers in his hair, her body instinctively moving in rhythm with his.

"Stephanie," he whispered wildly into her ear. "I love you, I love you, I love you. Whatever happens afterwards, I swear to you, it's all worth it just for this…"

"Oh, Sportacus, I - " she began, but he stopped her mouth with a kiss, and then she felt him go rigid in her arms and knew he was finally lost in bliss, and she had given him as much pleasure as he had given her.

They lay in speechless silence for a minute, then he reached down, picked the duvet up from the floor, and wrapped it around them.

She lay in the crook of his arm, revelling the freedom to touch him as much as she wanted. Her hands traced the planes of his face, smoothed the hair out of his eyes, and came to rest, fascinated, on the pointed tips of his ears…

She realised he was watching her, half-laughing, half-embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just unbelievable to be so close to you. I used to lie awake at night sometimes and wonder…"

"You used to lie awake at night and wonder about my ears? Wild."

"Well, maybe not just your ears…" They lay quietly for a while, their limbs entangled. Sportacus took a strand of Stephanie's hair and laid it over his throat like a scarf.

"Human women," Stephanie said suddenly. "That's what you said, isn't it? Only I was too busy thinking about other things to notice…so you're not…human?"

"Not exactly. Do you mind?"

"Of course not. I just want to know." she hesitated. "Robbie always used to say you were an elf. Although he seemed to mean it as an insult."

"An elf? No. Not insulting, by the way, just not correct. Elves are much smaller, more like what you would call fairies. I'm one of the Haldufolk. That's the name the men of Iceland have given us, anyway. I think in your language it means Hidden People."

"And what do you call yourselves?" she asked him curiously.

He laughed. "What do you call yourself, Stephanie?"

"I'm - well, I'm just a person, I suppose. Just a woman."

"So there you are. I'm just a person, too. Just a man." His eyes travelled lovingly over her face. "A very lucky man." He kissed her neck and she sighed with pleasure.

"Is that why you always wear the hat?" she asked him suddenly.

He stopped kissing her, amused and exasperated.

"Yes! that's why I wear the hat. It just seemed easier. If I'd known it was going to be this interesting to you, I would have shown you my…my ears…long ago." He was shaking with laughter. "Now do you have any more questions about my anatomy? Or, since we're exchanging confidences, can I check out something that I've wondered about for a while now?"

"I bet I can guess," said Stephanie, rolling her eyes. "It's all right. I don't mind. Go ahead and look."

"What do I want to know?"

"You want to know if - what colour -" she gestured downwards.

"I think you guessed." He gave her a wicked grin and threw off the duvet. "I believe," he said, covering her torso in a trail of kisses, "that the expression is checking if your collar and cuffs match. And they do! At last I've solved the mystery. I can sleep at night once more…"

"And is that what you used to lie awake thinking about?" she teased him.

"I didn't dare to think about any of this," he said, his eyes suddenly sad. "But I dreamed."

"Good dreams?"

"Wonderful dreams…then I'd wake up and be lonely. Stephanie, you do know that not everyone is going to like this."

"I don't care what anyone thinks. If you knew - if you knew how miserable I've been this last week, because I thought you didn't want me - "

"I do know now, and I am so, so sorry. If it makes it any better, I was miserable too…but really, we need to talk about this some time soon. I can't hide you up here in my air-ship forever. Your Aunt Bessie is definitely not going to be happy about me being with you. She made that very clear to me the night of the party."

"Why does it matter what she thinks?" said Stephanie rebelliously.

"Because she loves you too. And you love her. And I don't want to put you in a position where you have to choose. She just wants you to be happy."

"Then let's be happy," she whispered. "Please, let's not talk about this now. Tomorrow. Or the next day. But right now, let's just be happy…"

This time, she was determined not to be beguiled into letting him take over. For as long as she had known him he had been looking after her. Now it was her turn to take care of him. He tried to take her in his arms, and she could feel his clever, knowing fingers making their way up between her thighs again, deliciously tickling and probing, but she pushed him away.

"Not this time," she told him firmly. "This time, my love, it's all going to be about you. Lie absolutely still and don't move." Surprised but obedient, he lay down with his hands at his sides. "Now…"

She began to kiss him, a shower of butterfly kisses all over his face and chest. Gradually, tantalisingly, she parted her lips and let her tongue slide out between them until she was licking him, her tongue describing a long, wet trail down to his navel…she felt his hands gently caressing her shoulders.

"No," she said sternly, and pushed his hands away again. He raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, folding his hands behind his head. When she was sure he was still again, she returned to her exploration.

She had wondered and worried over what it would be like, but there was nothing ugly or frightening here: this part of him was as beautiful as all the rest. On impulse, she took it deep into her mouth, and his gasp of pleasure sent a sweet thrill of excitement through her. She could feel his need growing as she ran her tongue over it, licking and nuzzling, revelling in her power to please him as thoroughly as he had pleased her before.

Finally, seconds before he reached the pinnacle, she released him and sat astride him, pushing her hair back over her shoulders so that he could see every inch of her.

"Now tell me what you want," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"That was amazing…where did you learn to do that?"

"Girl scouts. Now tell me. Tell me what you want and you can have it. Anything, anything at all. But you have to tell me."

His eyes were dark with need. Suddenly he took his hands from behind his head and held her around her waist, gentle but firm. "I'm going to show you what I want," he whispered.

She tried to push him away again, but he was far, far stronger than her and utterly determined. So instead she surrendered to the pleasure of his hands on her body, confident and sure, turning and guiding her until she was lying on top of him.

"Now," he murmured in her ear. "Move down, just a little. Oh, yes, like that. Just like that -" she felt him move inside her, and this time there was no pain, just a delicious friction that made her bite her lip and push down harder, wanting more. He held her by her waist and gently lifted her up, then down again, showing her what to do, how to move. This was a totally different feeling from the first time, when he had stroked her to a sharp peak of pleasure while she lay completely quiescent and unable to move. This was a slower, softer feeling that spread through her whole body, and because she was on top she was totally in control of it. She took her time, trusting him to wait for her, moving slowly at first and then faster, feeling him moving with her, sharing every moment. She wanted to draw it out, to make it last, but the pleasure was too great to hold back, and when he took one hand off her waist and gently pinched her nipple it was enough, just that little extra touch, to send her over the edge, and then they were falling together, clinging to each other, hands tangled in each other's hair.

"That was what I wanted," he said when they finally got their breath back.

"That was everything I ever wanted," she replied, laughing.