A/N: I am excited to share my contribution to the CS Historical Fic Event. For this event, I drew inspiration from the Clan of the Cave Bear series. I'm borrowing the time period and the mythos. Hopefully, I was able to capture some of the magic and wonder those books always left with me. Everything should translate well enough via the story itself, but just as a little guide, here's a quick mini glossary of a couple terms I'll use and what they mean.
Great Mother - Basically mother earth; Was worshipped as the mother of all life.
Lumi - The moon; the Great Mother's lover and companion.
Totem Spirit - An animal spirit that was intrinsically linked to a person and was believed to guide and protect them.
Mog-ur - A clan's spiritual leader, highly revered. Commune with the spirit world.
Killian hefted his pack further up his shoulders, the wood frame that bore most of its weight wearing against him, the distance he'd traveled that day alone more than enough to make him bone weary. He'd made his first camp in the foothills a ways back, but his spirit had been unsettled among the young forest and lonely meadow that nestled at the base of the mountain. The sight of an eagle alighting on a cliff, the last rays of the sun slipping beyond the distant peak, had been enough to stir him from his tentative rest.
He'd found in his life that it was never wise to disregard the calling of one's Totem Spirit, and from the moment he'd set eyes on the Fishing Eagle, his uneasiness had disappeared. Marking once more where it had settled, he quickly packed his meager camp and hastened up the slope of the mountain.
Many years had passed beneath the tread of his feet, and most nights such as these wore the same shroud of loneliness, but this one was different. He felt a strange lightness despite the weight of his goods, and in his chest there was a flutter of life. Without understanding why, he knew that there was somewhere else he was meant to be – someplace he needed to be – and that belief was enough to spur him upward through the darkness into the arms of the slowly rising mountain.
The moon was full in the sky – the Great Earth Mother's lover, Lumi – his face round and bright, casting the land beneath in an unearthly glow that made his travel easy, lighting a path for him forward. Still, he was cautious among the rocky terrain, using his spear to steady himself as he climbed. The silhouette of the cliff where the eagle had perched was no longer visible, but his heart felt at peace with his footsteps, and he let that feeling guide him along the path set by the moon – something in the distance drawing him closer despite the weariness lodged heavily in his legs.
Before long the ground evened out, the trees that had been clustered around him on the slope turning sparse and leaving him at the edge of a large clearing, the music of insects and frogs singing telling him that water was near, a river or lake. Either would be a suitable home indeed for the spirit of his Totem, and perhaps that was why it had encouraged him to seek a new place of refuge for the evening. It was important to keep one's Totem Spirit pleased, otherwise they may not offer guidance and protection.
The air around him felt alive, thrumming with the light of the moon and whatever magics were held hidden in its distant facade.
He pulled the thick, leather straps of his pack from his shoulders, easing it and all of his trade goods to the ground, its frame settling heavily against the base of a tree. Rolling his shoulders, he breathed out a sigh of relief as the cool night air slipped through the edges of his tunic and cooled his skin. Here among the mountain clearing, with water sounding nearby and the moon above, his heart felt settled in a way time had stolen from him.
He knew not why his Totem Spirit had led him from the seemingly quiet meadow below, but he was always grateful for it's guidance. Perhaps there had been some danger lurking nearby, or maybe this was simply the better camp. The presence of fresh water was a welcome prospect, the weight of his own cured Aurochs bladder in which he carried his water growing light.
Despite the amount of time he spent traveling abroad, traversing the great mountains and plains between Clans, he always felt most at home when he was near water – and he carried with him always a longing for it, whether the tempestuous tides of the sea, or the mirthful slip of a river deep and cool. He would find the water that was here, and then – beholden to no one – perhaps he would construct a sturdier camp meant to last for longer than the evening. It would do him little harm to postpone his travels by a day or two if his Totem Spirit felt the need to linger in this place, it may even be wise.
It had been many years since he'd traded this far east, and he could never be certain of what changes had occurred within the Clans after such a long passage. There were times when he was confronted with hostile peoples despite the leathers he wore that were dyed the deep black of a trader, and other times where he stumbled into long abandoned settlements, its people disappeared or long since passed. It would not hurt to have a camp nearby where he could should safely stay were he unwelcome within the borders of the Clan grounds themselves.
His aching muscles finally relieved of their burden, he moved quietly through the last of the brush, unsure of what he would find in the clearing. Years of living on his own had taught him it was far wiser to be cautious for no reason at all, than to blunder into a dangerous situation unaware – though he felt certain his Totem Spirit would not have led him astray. The foliage and young skin of the trees was silvered by the moonlight as he pushed toward its edge, the sound of water lapping softly against stone a welcome melody.
What he saw when the last of the leaves parted before him stole the breath from his body.
A woman rose from the shimmering surface of a stream-fed lake, hair that was dark and heavy with water glistening in such a way that he could see the hints of gold caught by the light of the moon. Unbidden, he felt his desires stir, his body responding as any man's would to the beauty before him – though whether she was a woman, or spirit, or some vision sent to taunt him, he knew not.
Her skin glowed like the purest of ivory, her fingers rippling through the still lake as she stood, bathing herself beneath the light of the moon. The arch of her neck was long and graceful as she rolled her head to the side, water cascading from her tresses and falling back into the mirrored surface that lapped against her hips.
She reminded him of a swan – gliding across its surface, serene and undisturbed in her solitude, peaceful and unaware that from the shadows of the forest, she was watched.
The woman shivered in the night air as she picked her way delicately towards a nearby shore, the dark waters slipping from the pale expanse of her body, slowly revealing the firm curve of her bottom and legs. A groan rumbled in his throat as he watched her emerge before him like something from another realm – and perhaps she was, some spirit risen from those unknowable reaches of the deep water. Yet as she moved closer to the shore, he could tell from the way she rubbed her arms and squeezed the lake water from her hair that she was entirely human, a very real shiver running the course of her body as she stepped fully onto the earth.
Killian knew he should return to where his pack waited and seek another place to camp for the evening, but he found himself unable to move from where he stood, entranced by the strange woman as she stood naked beneath the moonlight. She turned and crouched beside something spread out on the ground – a fur that had been rolled open, its supple folds weighted down by bowls and pouches.
It was this movement that revealed her face to him.
The light caught the edges of high, full cheeks that swept regally down to a strong jaw and chin. As she glanced down at her possessions, he could just discern the bow of her lips twisted into a frown. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to move, he watched as she knelt on the fur and dipped her fingers into the largest of the bowls, removing something dark that clung to her fingertips. With motions that seemed almost stiff and angry – so at odds with the graceful swan she appeared to him as – she smeared the substance around the flat expanse of her bare stomach, leaving it shadowed with a dark circle. She retrieved more and repeated the motion around each of her breasts, drawing his gaze to the rosy peaks that graced each of them, hardened from the cool air and her dip in the lake.
It was then that the nature of the woman's ritual became clear. He was too far to be certain, but he would bet the mud she'd used to paint her body was the most sacred ochre, and the markings she'd drawn around her breasts and stomach resembled the carvings on the Donii he carried within the pouch at his belt – the sacred representation of the Great Earth Mother.
Whoever this woman was, Killian had come upon her in the midst of a fertility ritual, a blessing asked of the Great Mother to ripen her womb and prepare it to be blessed with a child. Though the distance between Clans was immense, and there were many differences among their rituals – especially those who resided this far east – markings such as that, they were entirely within the domain of womanhood, a plea to the Great Mother herself.
Suddenly, the woman turned and fell prostrate against the ground, the soft grasses cradling her trembling hands, nails sinking into the soil. Her shoulders and muscles rippled fluidly as she rose and sank back down, whatever words she was chanting against the earth itself too quiet and distant for him to hear.
He waited, his breath caught in his throat beside his heart. He was trespassing on a moment that was not meant for the eyes of men, but he couldn't bring himself to leave, to stop watching the woman who shone like a white swan against the black night.
She called to him, or it felt that way deep in his chest, a plaintive sob rising on the air between them. For a moment, long enough for him to draw in a sharp breath of cool air, he thought perhaps he had been wrong about the woman being entirely human, for how could such sadness and longing come from a person – and why did it feel as if she were pulling at the very heart of his spirit, beckoning him?
It was a call he could not resist, for to do so would be to let her sadness linger in the air like a curse. He stepped free of the concealing undergrowth, dead leaves crackling beneath his feet as he moved into the clearing. He slowed his steps as he neared, heart pounding like a drum at having revealed himself, but the woman took no notice. Her cries only became more desperate as she rose from the ground and swiped at the mud drying on her stomach, smudging it, but doing little else to remove it. Her chin rose defiantly and she spun on her feet, staring beseechingly at the moon. He caught the murmur of her voice, words that were at once fierce and desperate, though they rolled foreign and far too quick from her tongue for him to understand.
Her shoulders heaved beneath the weight of whatever pained her, and how he longed to sweep that burden from them and carry it in her stead, to see her lips curved into a smile instead of the grim line she wore. He halved the distance between them with an urgency that sprung from the core of him, and his swift movement finally caught her attention. She twisted where she stood, wet strands of hair whipping around her naked body as she met his gaze with one of equal intensity.
He had expected her to be frightened. Most women, regardless of their Clan, would be afraid to be approached by a strange man alone in the wild, but she seemed pleased, almost as if she had been expecting him. The realization gave him pause, and he stopped little more than an arm's reach from her, the air between them heavy like a living thing.
She was even more beautiful than he first thought, her eyes glistening like new grass fresh with dew, her lips the rosy pink of delicate blossoms – and they're parted in what he realizes is the start of a smile, teasing and coy. Small freckles dusted her skin like stars pulled from sand, and as the wind tugged her wild mane of hair, he could see that it would curl into delicate, golden strands around her face as it dried. She was the most stunning woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and somehow he new with an unshakable clarity that his Totem Spirit had guided him here for her – that he was meant to be here, on this night, and at her side – that perhaps his entire life had led to this moment.
The track of her tears still marred her skin, and he found himself swaying closer, his fingers feeling as rough and heavy as stone as he reached to touch her, brushing them gently away.
"What pains you?" he wondered aloud, pleased when she didn't shy away from his touch, but instead leaned into it, her cheek smooth and cool in his palm.
He spoke in the tongue of the Broadlands – the language most often used among travelers and traders such as himself. Most clans had some rudimentary knowledge of its words, though he could not be certain if she would. He was one of the few traders who ventured this far into the wilds of the east where Clans were sparse.
She shook her head and he lamented the loss of her touch as she straightened. It was clear she did not understand his clipped phrase and the hand gestures that accompanied them, but neither was she deterred. She opened her own mouth to speak, her voice low and melodic among the rippling water and singing forest. Alone, it would have been enough to stir his heart, even if he hadn't understood what she was saying, but the joy he felt when her words had meaning for him was unmatched. Her language was not one he'd heard in many years – too many to count – but he remembered it from a time he sat at strange hearth-fires, Liam and his father by his side.
"I don't understand," she murmured, her lips dipping once more into a petulant frown, eyes flickering toward the moon in the sky.
"Aye," he nodded, smiling softly at her further confusion with the strange word – a holdover from his own people, though he had them no more, "but I understand you, lass."
Her lips broke into a true smile when he spoke in her own tongue, broken and stilted though it may have been, and she surprised him by bridging the gap between them, her ochre-stained fingertips wrapping around his hand and turning it over within her own, seeming to enjoy the feel of his skin against hers.
"My Totem Spirit led me here," he spoke, feeling the need to explain his disruption of what must have been an important ritual for her. He gestured to the lake beside them, hoping his words words would ease any fears she had that his intentions were less then honorable. "I thought to camp, perhaps, but then I saw..."
"You saw me," she finished for him, dropping his hand abruptly and closing her eyes, resentment straining her features as she glanced toward the array of bowls still laid out on the nearby fur, the remnants of the mud still drying on her body.
"Aye," he whispered, though the three words were a paltry way to describe just how completely his world had shifted upon seeing her.
"What does that mean?" she asked, rolling her shoulders back imperceptibly and studying him, his head tilting to follow hers as she did.
He couldn't help but be distracted by her obvious perusal, wondering if she found him pleasing to look upon – most women did, and it was not often he was left with only furs to warm him on his travels. His people may have been long gone, but the traits that ran strong in them – the blue of his eyes and blackness of his hair – was often favored at gatherings.
"In your tongue, it means yes," he answered.
"Then you saw something that I did not wish for, and something that I did," she replied cryptically, picking absentmindedly at the mud drying just above her hip.
"What does that mean, lass?"
"It means that the spirits have an interesting way of answering our pleas."
He motioned toward the fur spread nearby and its array of materials – the dark bowl of ochre chief among them.
"You were asking the Great Mother for a blessing – for a child, I gather?" he asked softly, ignoring the rush of something that too closely resembled wanting in his chest. "There are similar rituals among my own people."
"You are right, I did, but..." her words faltered, and he could see the war between guilt and anger that flashed across her face, "I would not be here doing so if it was not for my Clan. The herds have fallen ill and there is not enough meat. The spirits say I will be a savior to my people through my joining, that a child from it will bring great blessings for them. So I am here, though I do not wish to be joined."
"You said I saw something you did wish for, as well, lass – go on, tell me, what was it?"
"I wished for – who are you?" All traces of sadness seemed to fall away from her as she shook off the pains of her people and turned to him once more.
"Killian," he said, confused by her sudden change of direction, but happy to give her his name, to have his presence mean something to her.
"I wished for you, Killian. I wished for a way out," she whispered, her cheeks reddening with her admission. It was a great burden to put the needs of many of the needs of one, but it was not always the wrong decision – and Killian couldn't imagine being forced into a joining that he did not desire. It was a perversion of something that should be beautiful and celebrated.
"Tell me more," he implored, confused at her words and not sure what to make of them. He lowered himself to the ground and gestured for her to join him. Her clothing was folded nearby, and he expected her to reach for it, but she showed no interest in hiding herself from his perusal, and his heart quickened at the thought. "Tell me the story of what brings you to this place."
Perhaps he could make sense of her words if he knew what had driven her to ask for a blessing from the Great Mother that she did not want.
"Our Clan Mog-ur, Gold, he communed with the spirits to save our people from hunger. The spirits said that in return for their blessing, I am to be joined – to be mated – to the child of his hearth, but I...I do not want this. Baelfire, he has always desired me, but could not have me even after I reached womanhood. Because I am the child of the Clan Leader, both of his spirit and hearth, I am not permitted to share pleasures in the same way as other Clan women – I must have a joining."
"I'm sorry," Killian sighed, understanding why her plight had driven her to such sadness and anger. As the Leader's child, she had been excluded from sharing in the Great Mother's gift of pleasure, and now, with no choice in the matter, she would be forced to share it with a man she did not care for or want. "I wish there was a way I could help, lass."
There was an ache blooming in his chest at the thought of a man she didn't want covering her body with his own, breaking her spirit. Truly, he would do what he could to help, but he still didn't understand her words – why would she have wished for him? What could he do, a lowly trader with nothing to his name but the pack on his back and the goods within?
His words pulled a sudden, wide smile from her, catching him off guard, as almost everything about her had done from the moment he first saw her.
"But there is," she confided, leaning closer, her green eyes full of something he knew to be mischief. "I asked the Great Mother for her blessing as I was told to by my people, but I also begged something of her lover as well – Lumi – and you are the answer he has given me."
"I'm nothing more than a trader," he muttered, rubbing the soft, worn leather of his tunic uncomfortably, "I'm hardly a hero."
"Killian, I am the daughter of the Clan Leader – a woman of prestige in the Clan. If I were to share pleasures before my mating ceremony, I would be ruined, unfit to be tied to someone as honored as the son of the Mog-ur."
"Lass, are you saying you wish to – "
"There will be a price for it – for me to pay – when the Mog-ur finds out, but anything is better than being forced to join with his son. Will you teach me?" she whispered, the barest of trembles in her fingertips as she brushed them along the rough stubble of his jaw. "Killian, will you teach me what it is to share this with you? To feel the pleasure that will surely be lost to me if I am forced to join with a man who will only use me?"
"What did you ask of Lumi, love, tell me?"
She hesitated, seeming unsure of sharing her exact words with him, perhaps for fear he would say no to her request if she did – though he couldn't imagine a thing in the world that would keep him from her if she desired him, not when every part of his heart and spirit was reaching for her, wanting to hold her close and never let anyone harm her.
"I asked Lumi to send me my lover, as he is the lover of the earth. I asked that he send the one to complete me," she nearly whispered, her eyes dropping from his to stare at the ground between them.
He swallowed heavily, her admission causing a ripple of something new along his spine – longing, hope – things he had not felt in many years. Perhaps in following the path of his Totem Spirit he'd taken a misstep and plummeted to this death, and this gold-haired woman was here to guide him through the realm of spirits. For how could he be so lucky as to have been called here by Lumi himself to ease this woman's sorrows, to give her companionship should she want it.
"Swan," he murmured.
"What?"
"I don't know your name, lass, but when I – "
"Emma," she cut in, worry drawing her brows together.
" – when I first saw you rising from the lake – you moved with the beauty of a swan, and I suppose I'll always think of you that way."
"You shouldn't call me that," she warned, fingers drifting from the rough edge of his jaw and sifting through his dark locks. "To name a mere woman after a Totem Spirit – my own Totem Spirit, no less – it's a dangerous thing, Killian. Totems are dangerous when angered."
"What makes you think I would ever want to anger you?" he asked, sure that if given the chance he would do everything in his power to protect her heart.
"I know what I asked of Lumi, Killian, but...if this were only pleasures for you, and then you had to leave, I...I would understand, but if that is all this is...you cannot name me Swan and then leave – Swans don't share, Killian. They find the mate they desire, and then never leave. We should not taunt the Totem spirits if...it would be dangerous."
"If that were only one of many dangers in making you mine, Swan, then I would face it gladly," he admitted, letting the feeling of rightness in his chest swell up and push away any doubts – his Totem Spirit had led him here to her, Lumi had guided him, and his heart had never felt lighter than it had the moment he saw her. He leaned forward suddenly, her body falling back into his waiting embrace as he lowered her to the damp grass, legs angled between the wide set of his own. "I cannot imagine ever leaving your side now that I've known the warmth of it, my Swan."
"I want this," she whispered, "I want you."
"Aye," he murmured, his own desire evident against her thigh, "but if we're to do this, I'd like to do it right – in the way of my people. These are your First Rites and should be honored."
"Who are your people?"
"They are no more, but once they were known as the Ramudoi. We were a river people, and when the waters of the Great Mother led us to the sea, we settled there as well."
"But they are gone?" she whispered, tracing the sadness that strained his brow.
"Aye, when I was but a lad, swallowed by the earth. The man of my hearth, he had taken my brother and I with him to visit distant family. When we returned, there was nothing left."
"I'm sorry."
Her words were soft, but untouched by the shadow of suffering. Somehow it lightened his own darkness to know that perhaps she had never seen such sadness in her life. Even if she had wanted him only for one night of pleasure, he would not have hesitated to spend the rest of his life yearning if it only meant she wouldn't be forced to endure the hardship put before her.
"It's no matter, Swan. It is one old weight among many others that I carry."
"Tell me more about First Rites," she urged, perhaps distracting him from the memories she had summoned up. "We do not have that ritual among my people."
Killian let out a long breath, stilling his heart as he studied the woman stretched beneath him – the woman who wanted to give herself to him.
"A woman's first time sharing pleasures with a man, this is when she's opened to receive the Great Mother's blessing of a child, and for our people – and many others – it's sacred. There is usually a celebration, and an older, more experienced woman watches over the rites from nearby – and there is always a Donii present, of course, so that the Great Mother is honored."
He paused in his explanation, pulling his hips away from her so that he could reach into the pouch belted at his waist and retrieve the small figurine from within. The body was round and fertile, with markings similar to what Emma had painted on her own breasts and womb, but unlike his Swan, the stone figure boasted pendulous breasts and the triangle of her womanhood was accented with symbols. Her feet and legs were mere suggestions, and the rounded head was faceless, for no man or woman could know the face of the Great Mother.
"This will have to do for your First Rites," he added, placing the stone Donii nearby to watch over them. "It's all I have."
"We have Donii like this," Emma said, "but no First Rites. In our Clan, pleasures are a man's right to have with a woman once she bleeds – unless the woman is the daughter of someone highly regarded." A few curls spilled over her shoulder as she reached out and touched the Donii where he had leaned her against the edge of a bowl.
"Yours will be different, Swan. I want you to trust me. I don't want you to be afraid."
"I'm not," she said, eyes certain as he leaned back over her, his fingers twining among her still damp curls as he supported himself with his other arm, "afraid of this, or you."
"Good," he breathed against the shell of her ear, the ghost of his words against her skin a glimmer of what he would soon guide her through, "then let me show you what pleasures are meant to be, my Swan."
His fingers revealed the elegant swoop of her neck, skin pale and glistening in the moonlight, tracing the soft flutter of her pulse and the delicate rise of her collarbone as she shuddered beneath his touch. His hands framed the curves of her body against the the soft grass, studying the fullness of her cheeks, the slope of her shoulders and strong lines of her arms as she mirrored his movements, learning the coarseness of his jaw and the firm breadth of his shoulders. Around the pale length of her legs, his thighs rested, caging in her sinuous curves that he longed to discover. Shifting his attention, he let the round swell of her breasts guide him, fingers teasing the pebbled flesh as he knelt and heated them with the warmth of his breath.
Emma's mouth leapt open in surprise, her breath quickening as she arched beneath his attentions, a soft cry slipping from her as he latched around the hard peak of her nipple and sucked, tongue lapping and encouraging the burning need between her legs.
"Oh," she breathed, fingers twining through his hair as her other hand dug into the damp ground beside her, rooting her even as something deep in her body spiraled higher and higher. "I didn't know that could feel like..."
Killian smiled around her, kissing each ravished peak gently before nuzzling the heavy underside of her breast.
"There are many things for you to learn, Swan."
He lavished every inch of her that he could reach with the touch of his hands and mouth, whispering soft words against her skin. When his fingers dragged through the sacred ochre that had dried along her stomach, he wondered if their sharing of pleasures in honor of the Great Mother would please her enough to bless Swan with a child of her own – perhaps, even, a child of his spirit. The blessing she'd asked for would be strongest now, and as his lips traced the salty curve of the mud that painted her womb, then down toward where she was beautifully made to receive him, he couldn't help but imagine what a child of their spirits would look like. Perhaps they would have eyes as blue as his own, and soft tresses that curled around a mischievous smile, as hers did.
He wanted to learn her body – how she tasted, the strokes that would make her cry in pleasure. His lips moved along her curves and ridges, mapping them in the same way he knew the mountains and valleys of the earth itself. His hands accompanied the breath of his kisses, placating her neediness as she moaned beneath him, drawn into this world of sensation that she'd never before experienced.
He paused when he reached the apex of her thighs, her thatch of dark, golden curls still damp from the water, inhaling deeply and catching the slight tang of her womanhood, her excitement making her slick and ready. His hands ran the course of her legs, stroking her chilled flesh and soothing her before he lowered his mouth to where she was hot and untouched, a part of her that had never known the pleasure the body of another might bring. The thought nearly sent him over the edge and he paused, breathing heavily into her and enjoying how she fluttered and pulsed against his mouth, like petals opening.
She let out a wordless cry, her hips bucking beneath his firm hold as she melted under the sensation of his warm mouth against her, something sharp and beautiful and needy leaping beneath her skin.
"Do you like that, my Swan?" he murmured, his words sending echoes of bliss after the first, drawing a soft whimper from her.
"Yes," she breathed, her hands moving restlessly from the ground to her body, seeking something that she could hold onto and finally finding Killian's dark, tousled locks. "Yes, Killian...it's like...like stars on fire..."
He hummed, sending another shiver along her spine as his breath and the slick heat of his mouth moved against her, his tongue slipping free to tease between her folds and flick at the small pearl of hardened flesh at her peak. He drank in the way her body moved with each caress of his tongue, learning how ecstasy found her in the roll of a shoulder, the drag of her toes along the ground, the rough gasp that exposed the long, graceful column of her neck to his eyes.
"You taste like nothing I've ever known," he groaned, holding her tighter as he drew his tongue mercilessly back along the length of her slit, sucking gently at her flesh and probing into the heat of her depths. "I could devour you..."
"Please, please," she chanted, nearly crying as she twisted against the ground, unsure of what she was asking for, but knowing she needed it.
He was driven on by her pleas, the need in him soaring to something unstoppable as he feasted on her, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be easing her into this, her arousal slicking his chin and mouth as she twitched and bucked against him, her fingers knotted in his hair and holding him closer as her legs drew around him, smothering him with her warmth. His hands circled her thighs, pressing them tightly against him as he lapped harshly from her entrance to her taut pearl, sucking the hooded flesh between his lips and rolling it, coaxing that ultimate pleasure from deep within her. Her cries mounted as he dipped lower once more, sampling her nectar. She was the richest thing he'd ever tasted, scorching heat and delicate folds that parted for his tongue as he reveled in discovering what she'd offered only to him.
His leathers were painfully tight as he moved with her, chasing each roll of her hips that swept her away only to force her back desperately against his mouth, her nails dragging through his hair while her legs shuddered around him.
"So sweet," he moaned into her, releasing her just enough to slide his hand between them and guide a finger into her depths, studying the way her teeth caught her lip as he stroked exactly where she needed him, the way her brows drew together and her mouth opened on a silent cry.
Her soft, ribbed flesh slid across the rough pads of his fingers, each motion drawing a new wetness that eased his path into her, preparing her for what would come next. Her hands dropped as she arched wildly into him, nails biting into the damp earth, a breathless, wavering cry pouring out of her – and then she was gone, like a bird in flight, tied to nothing as she fell apart for him. Her core pulsed around his curling fingers as he hummed softly over her sensitive flesh, greedily lapping every drop of nectar from her folds.
He had only a moment to revel in the sated color on her cheeks, the way her breasts rose and fell on the swell of her breathing as she bathed in the essence of what he'd given her, and then she was moving, twisting and pulling him against her as their noses met, her eyes fluttering shut above a shocked smile.
"Killian, that was...that was beautiful. I've never felt...I didn't understand what it could be..."
He nodded mutely against her, eyes flickering open to see the dusting of freckles across her cheek. He didn't have the words to express how entirely right this all felt, and – like her – how he'd never really known how much more pleasures could be. He'd shared a great many, but never before did they stir the things within him that she did. It was as new an experience for him as it was for her.
"I need you, join with me," she breathed, her lips finding his at the same moment her hand found where he was hard and heavy, straining against the soft stretch of his leathers.
"Aye, and I you, Swan," he groaned, enjoying the fire of her kiss for as long as he was able before breaking it and gently pulling her hand away from his hardness. He wanted to be gentle with her, and if she were to keep her fingers around him in that way, he fear losing his control. He stroked her palm before guiding it to the soft edge of his tunic, encouraging her to loosen the leather and help slide it from his chest.
He watched her with awe as she took the time to explore his body, biting the supple curve of her lip as she ran her fingers through the hair on his chest and down, her eyes finally darting back to the bulge pushing prominently against his leathers, curiosity widening her eyes. Letting her fingers drift over the edge of his laces, she claimed his lips once more, her tongue teasing entry and curling around his own. It was only when her hand found its way farther to wrap around his throbbing length that he eased her gently back down, the sacred ochre she'd painted her body with chafed and cracked between them as he covered her chest with his. The thick, rigid length of his manhood was nestled firmly between her naked thighs, only the doeskin of his breeches separating where they would soon be joined.
She ran her feet along the soft leather, whimpering with frustration when she couldn't budge them down by that action alone. Now that she'd felt his heat in her hand, she was desperate to know what it felt like to have it against her, inside of her. He chuckled and pulled away just long enough to tug loose the laces holding them on and slide them down his legs, kicking them into a pile.
Both of them were as bare and free as they could be with one another, and it felt right – Killian more certain then ever that his Totem had led him here, and that perhaps had been answering his Swan's own plea to find her other half.
"I could worship you like this all night," he whispered, the words a sin against everything he knew, for worship was sacred and owed only to the Great Mother herself – but he was only a man, flawed and broken and wanting, and couldn't help his desire to lavish every inch of his Swan with his love and devotion, putting her above everything else.
"I need you," she begged, rocking her hips upward and pressing against where he rested hard and heavy, her eyes widening at the pained groan he bit into the fullness of her breast. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," he assured her, quieting the laugh that wanted to rumble from his chest. "Quite the opposite. It feels good, you against me, lass."
"Then take me," she whispered, rolling her hips again, a bolt of pleasure that matched his own spearing through her core. "I can turn over."
Killian shook his head, not wanting her first time sharing pleasures to be on her hands and knees. While he knew it would feel wondrous to have her like that, to learn the way her back bowed and arched as he drove deeply into her, selfishly, he wanted this first time to be different. He wanted to see her face as she came apart beneath him, the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, the way her lips parted, whether on a sigh or pouring her ecstasy into the still night air.
Spread beneath him like this, her legs embracing him, her curls fanned around her – she was beauty itself spread for him to consume. He took himself in hand and dragged the tip of his manhood through her folds that were slick and welcoming, coating his length in her arousal and drinking in in the long moan she breathed into the air.
"This time, Swan, I want you just as you are – I want to watch how beautifully you unfold around me..."
Great Mother willing, he hoped there would be more. He would offer up everything he had to ensure she'd want him again – that he could keep her, feel her like this every day if she'd let him. His eyes were drawn to hers as she widened the cradle of her thighs and welcomed him, opening for him, her arousal making her more than slick enough for his girth as he groaned, guiding the head of his manhood between her swollen folds, soft and yielding as he pressed gently inside.
She tensed beneath him and he let his weight slant on top of her, balancing himself as he stroked the length of her side with one hand, the knowing press of his rough hands over her smooth skin a distraction.
"Tell me what you need," he murmured, knowing there was little he could do further to ease the initial discomfort, but that soon it would be washed away. "If you want me to stop, Swan..."
"No," she insisted, wincing slightly as he stretched her, only just enveloped by her body. "Just...go slowly?"
"Aye, love," he reassured her, his fingers tightening around her hip as he slipped a bit further into the tight grip of her body. "It will hurt at first, but that will fade, I promise."
A flicker of discomfort crossed her lovely features as he pushed forward slowly, feeling the sudden thickness of her barrier within her, tight and constricting around the head of his manhood. It marked her as untouched, as one who had been saved for another – but she didn't want that man, she wanted him, and the thought made his chest swell with something like belonging. Reaching up, her met her eyes, marking the edge of her tremulous smile with his thumb as he pushed steadily through, feeling her body break around him even as they built each other anew.
The bliss of being fully surrounded by her soft, fiery depths was pushed to the back of his mind as her legs tightened against his, her hands rising to clutch the straining muscles of his arms as she adjusted to feel of him.
"Emma," he breathed, forcing himself to make sure she was alright before he moved, his own desires biting at his self-control, "lass, are you with me?"
She let out a shaking breath before answering, letting her body relax around him.
"It hurts, but it's not...it's much better already. I feel so full," she murmured, shifting around him and wincing only slightly as she discovered just how perfectly his length filled her, rigid and thick.
It was like nothing he'd ever felt, being enveloped by her heat. He'd shared pleasures with many women, and had even been given the honor of sharing First Rites with others before, but never had he felt such completeness, as if they were truly one, her body made for his.
It was another traitorous thought.
Pleasures were meant to be shared freely and often with many, as the Great Mother had intended. The more she was honored, the more likely her children were to receive her blessing of a child, but as he lay connected with his Swan, he was certain there would never be another to compare to her. His manhood throbbed as she experimented, clenching her inner muscles and rolling her hips beneath him, a keening whimper pulled from her lips. His fingers bit into her hip as he reveled in how she moved, the swell of her breasts as they rose and the soft brush of her legs against his. The though of ever replacing her with another woman – of another man ever having her – it made his heart thump with something dark and possessive.
He couldn't lose her, and selfishly, he didn't ever want to share her.
She nudged him, her small whimper of need cutting through the dark spiral of his thoughts.
"Killian, please...I need...need you to move, it's so much..."
"You're beautiful," he breathed, watching the green of her eyes disappear as they fluttered shut, pulling himself slowly free of her core, soothing the low burn left behind with kisses and soft reassurances. "My beautiful Swan."
She hissed a wordless prayer as he pushed home again, urging him on with the backs of her legs, her breasts arching into his chest as the promise of something deeper sparked within her core.
"Mine, Emma," he groaned, feeling the taut hardness of her nipples dragging against his chest.
"Yes, yours," she promised breathlessly, eyes wide and dark as he snapped his head up to watch her, needing to memorize every gasp, every move she made as he took her, filling her with achingly slow thrusts.
He savored the tension within her neck as she rolled her head, breath falling into the night between parted lips as she moaned, her teeth nipping at their pink lushness. Her fingers trailed the firm expanse of his arms, alternately clutching and caressing, exploring and seeking an anchor amid the sensations he was pulling from her body.
"More," she begged, the word tumbling desperately from her lips. "Killian, more...I need..."
"Aye, Swan," he purred, his pace quickening as her pleas urged him on, her momentary pain forgotten as something feral and strong howled within her for more. He watched her lose herself, slip away from the world as he dragged himself free and thrust heavily back in, rocking over and over against that hidden place inside of her that made her fingers and toes curl against him, pleasure spiraling tightly inside of her.
She whined, and he felt the way she rocked her hips up, her own inexperience making their rhythm falter as she tried to take control, needing more. His Swan was as fierce as she was beautiful, knowing she needed more, but not yet knowing how to take it. Another time, he would teach her – would watch as she rode him, the perfect rosy peak of her breast teasing his lips. Following her pleas for more, he shifted, the night air slipping between them as he moved onto his knees and dragged her with him, her firm bottom framed by his hands as he drew her legs against his broad chest. Each noise that fell from her urged him onward, and he buried himself deeply within her, just as she needed. Her body rocked back as he thrust into her, and then she was rising from the ground, pushing herself up just enough that she could see how he disappeared into her, how it was the thick drag of his body joining with hers that had opened an entire world she'd never known existed – a universe of stars that exploded behind her eyes and ecstasy that burned through her body like a wildfire.
Killian could feel his release approaching, coiling like a snake as he slipped into her wet heat. He was close, but he needed her there beside him, falling together. Sensing she was already nearly there, he thumbed the little pearl that rested above where he filled her, pressing against its hood and rolling his calloused finger around it.
They fell together, a keening sob pulled from his Swan as her walls clamped tightly around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his body, his shaft throbbing and twitching against her scorching grip as he painted the ripeness of her womb with his seed, filling her entirely. She shuddered and gasped, head dropping to the ground as her breasts rose and her legs dragged over his shoulders. Through the fog of his own release, he memorized the soft smile that fluttered at the edge of her lips, the way her chest heaved and her fingers played one over the other. Knowing she would be tender, Killian gently lowered her legs and shifted them so they could lay together on the ground. He held his hips tightly against her for a few moments longer, unwilling to abandon the way she felt and the intoxicating way his seed filled her with warmth before slipping from within her to coat his skin.
She settled into the heat of his chest, letting him hold her against the cool ground, their bodies still warmed from their exertions. It was soothing, how against him like this she filled some place that had been empty within him for far too long.
"Killian," she whispered, reaching behind her to tangle her fingers in his mass of dark locks. "That was..."
"I know," he whispered, "for me as well, my Swan."
She rolled swiftly, catching him by surprise as her leg found its way between his, her hand pulling him into a kiss, igniting the fire within him as she traced the fullness of his lips, her teeth and tongue rough against his own. She pressed closer, tighter, and he growled into the heat of her mouth as he laid his own claim in reciprocation, the both of them breathless as their passion settled into a low, panting burn.
"Is it always like this?" she wondered, finding the edge of his tunic where she'd dropped it and tugging it over their legs, giving their cooling bodies some reprieve from the night.
"It always feels good, at least for men – and if the men are caring, then for their women too – that's why it's a gift from the Great Mother, but I've...I've never felt so connected, Swan, like we were..."
"Like we were one, together?" she murmured, her cheeks heating once more as she looked shyly into his eyes.
"Aye."
He couldn't help but let his gaze flicker down to where the sacred ochre still marked her body, a finger tentatively tracing the dried flecks. Unbidden, memories from long ago, his mother, her hair dark and flickering red in the firelight, came to him, her arms outstretched as he ran headlong toward her, swept into the safety of her embrace. Perhaps if the Great Mother had been pleased by their honoring of her gift, she would bless Swan with a child of her own, and if he were so lucky, perhaps a child of his spirit as well.
He knew he shouldn't think of such things, shouldn't hope for them, but as they lay in the glade, the night slowly stealing the heat that had coursed over them like a fire, he wasn't strong enough to banish the thought from his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes, visions of a child came to him – a girl with his Swan's full cheeks and grass-green eyes, with curls that spilled onto her shoulders like a dark waterfall. He didn't know if his spirit had ever been chosen to create life along his many travels, but he knew that for a child now – for one with his Swan – he would give anything.
"I don't want to let you go," she whispered, echoing his own thoughts and smiling against his skin as he held her that much tighter.
"I may have followed my Totem Spirit to find you," he murmured, breathing in the scent of her hair and pressing a lingering kiss to it, "and perhaps your wish to Lumi guided me as well, but even if it were not so, I couldn't bear to be parted from you now – not if you'll have me, Swan."
"I want you, Killian, more than I've wanted anything, but I...we've shared pleasures..." Her words were low, uncertain, tinged with the shadow of a future unknown. "...but we are not joined. I am not yours. What if..."
"You are my Swan, Emma."
"You won't let anything keep you from me?"
"Nothing, Swan, I promise."
The night grew deeper and colder, biting at their flesh and he knew soon she would have to leave him to return to her people, but he couldn't let her go, not without knowing...
"Would you, Swan?" he asked, barely daring to hope, but so lost in her he couldn't have kept the words at bay if he wanted to. "Wherever you wish to go, Swan, would you join with me, have me by your side as your mate?"
"I feel like somehow, Killian, I've known you many times over," she whispered, placing her hand against where his heart beat in a way that felt achingly familiar. She met his eyes with a gaze as hopeful as own. "I believe Lumi brought you to me. Perhaps he called your Totem from the spirit world to guide you to my side – to save me before it was too late, and maybe to bring me to my home."
"Swan, do you mean..."
"Yes, whatever happens, Killian, I want a future with you – a home."
"Then I'll let nothing get in our way. Whatever happens tomorrow with the Mog-ur and his son – I'll not abandon you. Do you need to return to your Clan tonight?"
"I must. My mother and father will be expecting my return after the...the blessing." Her hand dropped suddenly from his chest, sliding between them to rest against her stomach. A smile teased the corner of her mouth, the soft hopefulness of it making the dream of a future with her seem all the more real. "Perhaps the Great Mother has already granted me a life."
"That would be a blessing indeed," he murmured, wanting desperately to place his hand over her own, to know that there was life started within her.
Across all the Clans, women were revered for their ability to bring life into the world, and there was no man who would not think highly of a woman who was with child. It would only increase his Swan's standing with her people if she were to be blessed so quickly after First Rites. Women with child were eagerly sought after as mates, and it would make this Baelfire she'd spoken of desire her even more. His stomach lurched and a wave of anger rolled upward and into his fingers, urging him to do something to protect her. Swan had said that sharing pleasures would prevent the Mog-ur's son from joining with her, but he feared his heart would not be settle until he knew she was safe.
Needing to feel her, he let his hand entwine with hers where it rested against her stomach, choosing his next words carefully.
"I want you to know that I would be honored if it were a child of my own spirit, Swan – and one day my hearth. I know it's presumptuous of me to – "
"I would like that," she said quickly, wanting to reassure him. "I cannot think of a man with a kinder, more beautiful spirit than yours, Killian. There are preparations tomorrow, for the joining. The Mog-ur will not be pleased when he is told what I've done, but I will be free of him and his son, and then we can make our own future."
"What will he do?" Killian asked. Mog-ur's were powerful men, they communed with the spirit world and knew many dark magics. He did not like to think of his Swan angering such a man or the spirits he bargained with.
"I don't know. I will be punished, but...I don't know how. I just know nothing could be worse than being forced to be the mate of a man I do not want. Will you wait for me here?"
"Do you not want me at your side, Swan?"
"My misbehavior will be punished, but they cannot harm me. You, Killian – a stranger from strange lands who lay with the daughter of the Clan Leader – I fear what they would do to you if they found out it was you. Let them assume I lay with a man from my own people."
"I was always meant to trade with your people, Swan, so I can be there without suspicion, if you'd like – just as I would have had we not met tonight."
"This was always meant to happen," she asserted, shivering in his arms and reminding him their evening would need to draw to a close. She was never meant to be up here this long, and he had yet to set up even a bedroll, "but I would like if you were though, even if we are pretending you are a stranger to me."
"I won't let them take your choice away from you, no matter how unsafe it is, if it comes to that, Emma."
"I won't either – I want only you."
Her words were enough to burn him from within, and he crushed her to his chest, breathing in the salt of her skin and the assurances she pressed to the ghost of her kisses.
She would be his, and that was the thought that held him together as he watched her slip away through the trees, one last look of promise and hope cast over her shoulder before the shadows took her completely.