Lightning finally got a rather frightening sense of what immortality must be like after hearing that impassioned statement from Noel's youthful face. It was said with the wisdom of a man whom had eons to contemplate such things, and it did not bode well; what a jade he must be! What subtle tortures awaited her in the near endless future with a man could not age? She shut her eyes, hiding her confusion, which he'd certainly see and use to his advantage somehow. Ashamed, she admitted to feeling a secret rush of excitement at fighting Noel again, and somehow her own apparent helplessness in the current situation made for a swirl of images that rapidly turned erotic. She almost panted at the sinewy leg that casually slid in between hers; a bare foot gently touched an ankle and imperceptibly began to stroke down to tease her toes; it seemed like he would leave no part of her untouched and enjoyed the way she was squirming. Lost in such thoughts she trembled, her skin heating as her body gave away her excitement. Noel felt the wash of warmth flushing her skin, and knew he'd sunk his own barb into her finally.
Noel abruptly rolled away from Lightning & gained his feet like it meant nothing, like she was just another captive in a tent in the middle of nowhere; of course, he was secretly pleased at arousing her passions. He'd take care of the aches and bruises later, after she'd fallen asleep…especially the aches. The last thing she remembered was Noel's wavering shadow against the tent flap as he quietly exited the tent, leaving her to fall asleep to the moan and keen of the night winds brushing the tent. But true to human nature, even the most resolute soul, the firmest of wills, also wavers in in the still of the night…
She slowly drifted in and out of awareness on the soft rug as exquisite caresses slowly travelled over her; she sighed pleasurably and stretched into them, almost purring as her skin receptors rippled in a thousand gentle prods that awakened the life of her inner body; hands glided effortlessly with a slick of soothing oil across her chafed skin, delighting her stiffened muscles and relaxing achingly tense limbs until the Body Lightning sang in delight.
Her inhibitions were nonexistent in sleep, so when the caressing hands smoothly parted her legs, they met no resistance; nor did the soft lips that travelled from ankle to the back of the knee do anything but bring a blissful relaxation. She drifted off again, the remnants of exhaustion pulling her back down in a soft black warmth as an even softer black blotted out the faint firelight; her body accepted an ever-so-slow intrusion of burning heat with a slow welcoming warmth like a ribbon of sun-warmed honey poured from a spoon onto a hungry tongue or quivering finger, anticipating the sweet reward. The soft warm exhalations on her neck only made her murmur with pleased noises, as did the gentle friction deep between her legs; more was the only message her body felt like talking about, and it simply widened the narrow gap filled by a slim pair of hips, so whatever was making the Body Lightning feel so good could have more access. Her own derriere was boyishly slim, but still rounded and soft as a tame bee; gently, sensually, it enjoyed the push and retreat of a flat belly, erotically slick with scented oil, the softest mouth dropping kisses down the spine before stifling a goddess' name as its own honey poured into the sweetly rocking hips on the rug. They continued to rock, now a silent plea to continue, bring pleasure, more pleasure, as the hungry body had not had its fill.
Lightning slowly awoke for a few moments to an overwhelmingly satisfying feeling of warmth and wetness between her legs; someone was engaging in an extremely intimate act, claiming her body like a conqueror, her face buried into the soft rug as her vanquishing captor hung above her faceless, nameless. The strokes were deep and firm, yet slow as if every inch sinking in was to be savored; the climax pouring into her was a rush of stars blacking her out as she fell back into sleep, crying oh please, more of whatever this is! Her body withdrew into itself, curling up as if it were an addict, craving its own dose of secret personal heroin in the form of a lean young panther of the desert with a softly accented voice whispering scorching words and caresses that demanded attention.
Unfulfilled, her body began to rock and her unconscious mind sobbed in grief and raging need at being left so abruptly. Then whatever had deserted her, the pleasure giver who'd thwarted her so terribly returned; it was welcomed with sobbing relief as gentle hands turned her on her back. The hungry body opened itself wide in anticipation as warm skin rubbed against the backs of her thighs until they rested comfortably across wide flat shoulders and she was now being lapped with a velvety cat's tongue; warm fingers slid in later and began a new rhythm the body liked; it grabbed and hung onto the fingers, gently grasping them with its own rhythm until the two rhythms finally segued to syncopation, then meshed in a symbiotic pounding throb that soared to a thunder in the blood and left with small frissons of bliss as she transcended into a nirvana of heartfelt intimacy; the Body Lightning did not know or care about the name of pleasure giver, it only knew what was given was given with absolute abandon, transcending all earthy restrictions into a total bliss. A soft purr of total appreciation was the reward to pleasure giver, who let her snuggle into the warm skin as she drifted back into blackness.
Dawn's rosy fingers again reached through the tent to gently prod at the eyelids of a captive warrior, who found herself curled against Noel's body, which was starting to stir sleepily. She tried to roll away, but was stopped by a sharp tug on her ankle; her captor had tied her ankle to his, and he lazily reached an arm out and pulled her back without opening an eye, then softly purred in a warning tone for her to lay still, right where she was. She remembered nothing of the evening's activities, except some vague memory of aches and pains being salved. Her aching body was now soothed; she didn't feel quite like the prisoner of war Noel had claimed her to be. For a minute she could pretend it was normal, they were lovers, they were just waking up from a long night of love-play, it was going to be a good day on the hunt or in the practice arena, and he would be there, by her side in the evening at dinner listening to the harp, until the ocean of his eyes drowned her again in desire.
She knew she should get up, find things, map the oasis out, but it felt good to just lie there and enjoy the freedom from the aches and pains of the arduous trek, allow warm bronzed skin to surround her just a few minutes more; it didn't seem hard to justify a full mouth gently nuzzling her neck and shoulder and a soft voice greeting the dawn with ya'a saalam'ah'Etro Claire; she weakened appreciably at the sound of her name, her given name, said so; the soft accent rolled off his tongue like bells chiming or the soft clicks and chirrups of the horse language he used: Claairrre; E'Klahre…
Rather uncertain, she repeated the greeting, as the wild desert boy of the wadi was looking at her in the dawn light; the stern demon of the past three days hidden behind the lean handsome face, at the moment calmly taking her expression in. She was puzzled, but decided to get to the bottom of what was going on in Noel's mind today one way or another. So she started with a simple question: "What you said last night, the words…'bind you to me' – what does that mean? "
At last! She was catching on! She was curious, a good sign; Noel cared not if it was a ploy; such were the games one played ,a tricky hunt for each other through a gamut of emotions until there was only one avenue to heaven: Through him. With him. By him. Because of him. "Allow me to answer with a question: What is love, Claire?"
"It's a…feeling, of course."
"No. it's whatever we chose to make it mean. I want you to think about that today. Now, I think it's time to greet the day before it runs away from us, and I promise you a good discussion over the fire tonight about binding…and love…and whatever else comes up."
She arched a brow and dryly said: "I can imagine what you'd come up with."
He slyly tented the drape of the tent curtain out and audaciously quipped: "My sword is always ready to do battle with you, Valkyrie." He grabbed a handful of dates as he carelessly strode out the tent to brilliant sunshine: "Do use whatever is here for yourself, except my swords; and there's clean clothing by the saddle, if you want it." Then Noel was gone, the flapping tent drape showing nothing but blue sky and sand beyond, and she was left blinking in the rose colored rays wondering again if she'd not only gone mad, but was hallucinating.
She carefully examined her body and saw its bruises, chafes and cuts neatly healed, and wondered what Noel had done in the night; she remembered she was exhausted, and had been subjected to the frightening proposition that he was going to subjugate her to his will for all time after the minor scuffle at the bathing wadi. He must have worked on her sometime last night and shrugged. Perhaps he'd seen reason and was changing his mind. Perhaps if she just acted like being here was a minor inconvenience, a mere nomad custom that bored her, he'd simply lose interest and set her on a mount back to the garrison soon.
Waking up wrapped up in him was surprisingly pleasant, and she wished it were under other circumstances, but she decided to simply play along, study, then plan a way to leave unobtrusively. He had set himself up already with his suggestion to try a day of binding, a day under his will. Is it that high of a price to pay? She asked herself; do I have the sand in my shoes to play such a game with him? I admit I'm curious; I want to hear what he says tonight. A dozen incongruities about him crowded her mind and she was left with a dizzying array of probabilities, none of which seemed to add up into the categories of serial rapist, mental case, or just plain asshole that were common in the army recruits. Noel was quite unlike any man she had met, and something unameable just kept getting under her skin when she was with him. With that thought in mind, she contemplated his question off and on during the rest of the day.
She wandered idly in between tents, wadis and pathways all day; no one bothered her except to smile or raise a palm to forehead in greeting; the woman who gave her the bowl of coals expressed a maternal concern, as she had heard some of the scuffle last night by the bathing wadi, then invited her in for tea. She looked Lightning over closely and satisfied she was not being treated harshly by her new nomad brother in the tribe, she let her go after making her eat and getting as much information out of her as she could, merrily passing it on to the other family members in the tent or nearby; they all admired Noel, and praised her for at least trying to understand what their life was about before returning to the city life; they eagerly invited her back tomorrow after seeing her curiosity at all things in their tent and in the camp; however, they declined to tell her what a binding was until her lover had a chance to deliver the news himself. They carefully explained it was part of their customs to not interfere with the developing relationship until it reached the point of acceptance or rejection; only the Sheik could step in & very few times at that.
She returned to Noel's tent after bathing, which was a far more refreshing experience than the previous night. Someone had left a small flask of scented oil by her towel and comb; its scent was heady, floral, so she guessed her new friends must have left it there as a gift to her. It was similar to the cactus flower, but softer, creamier, with a clearer green note with a sweet undertone that bordered on fruit, but not cloying. It was not in her usual taste, but it helped with the tangles in her hair immensely and she felt completely clean for the first time in four days.
She walked back to the tent with a lighter step and was surprised to see Noel at the entrance with a cup of tea in hand, chatting idly with a pair of men who had the garrison mounts by the bridle; they politely looked to Noel when she was within earshot and he gestured to the tea pot, a long spouted affair sitting on a tray just inside the tent flap. She almost bridled at being his servant, but hid the anger by throwing her hood up; better he think her surrendering, giving in, and was already becoming docile. She'd be gone soon enough. She poured them all tea with a flourish, and they were charmed by the way she had hidden herself in the hood; one discreetly flirted with her through her captor and said to Noel: "What luck to have two oases in our sight! If a panther does not drink at one, then we would gladly be led by the chain to drink at the other!"
Noel shrugged, pretending indifference, but could not hide a flash of possessiveness in his eyes before replying: "Good luck on that chain, my friend. I was knocked out giving her that gift!" Nodding at the leather wrapped bracelet; He added: "Speaking of chains, do you know the metalworkers ?" They continued on, as he walked them to the main pathway, and embraced in parting. Lightning's heart sank, as he had just sold the garrison mounts to the men; now she had no way to leave, unless she stole a horse.
She was better at hiding her feelings behind her eyes than he, and managed a smile despite the setback. Encouraged, his face lightened at the sight, and he threw himself down on the rug, and waved her to a seat by him. "We stay in tonight – tomorrow we have a task. Be prepared to ride, but it will be pleasant, not battle." He sniffed the air appreciatively and somewhat teasingly asked: "Did you save me any oil? "
A bit startled, Lightning handed him her half full flask; the scent had a distinctly feminine note, and she wondered for a moment at his easy acceptance of something so feminine. Back at the garrison, they'd all wondered at the loose skirt-like pants and the amount of adornment he'd had on; coupled with his way of standing well within the invisible boundaries of anyone's personal space, looking intently at the person's eyes, he'd given a conflicting impression of feminine traits. Indeed, he was handsome to the point of beautiful, but there was a certain willful set to the brow and his stance that indicated a firm masculine personality resided within. He seemed indolent and sybaritic at times, enjoying the feel of anything sensuous, from richly colored silks to smooth cool marble floors, to the finest argan oil on his skin, which he seemed to be judging at this very moment. The pleasure on his face at feeling the silky oil, free from grit and the depth of scent bespoke cultured taste, not barbarism; she noted the incongruity and sighed at the odd duality of human nature.
Noel put the flask aside quietly stating he would teach her some of the traditional techniques of using oil tonight to while away the hours; he thought to himself it would be a good counterpoint to the conversation he was going to initiate over the fire; but first, dinner was calling both their names, so he built up the fire, and brought out a pair of skewers filled with meat that had been soaking in a mix of oil and sharp herbs since it was killed this afternoon. Dinner almost became a light hearted affair as they relaxed and let their shields down as the sun set. Noel's description of the chase that brought the gazelles down enlivened his normally stoic face, and Lightning responded in kind with a rather easy smile for the first time in three days.
When the time came to start the discussion about binding, Noel propped his back up on the saddle and commanded her to attend. All nomads love stories, and Noel was no different. He was a trifle vain about it, as he had been trained to tell stories at an early age by his father to carry a crushing load of human history, being last born. He could recite the entire old testimony of the twelve tribes by eight, and he delighted in seeing Lightning's enraptured face when the harpist played at the garrison; he felt she would have a finer appreciation of his stories; besides, he had worked hard on training his voice; just because he didn't speak much and used one word when two would do didn't mean he was a dumb brute animal.
After staring into the coals of the brazier for a small space, he started to tell the story of the first binding:
"The gods created man first, than woman according to the scripts of Etro, although some argue that Bhunivelze created woman for his own amusement!...And tonight I will tell you a tale of amusement - one of how the two beings, male and female, came to be joined as one – The tale is called in my tribe 'The Moon came Courting'.
"In the old days the Gods came down from heaven to walk among us, especially the Lord of the Underworld and his brother, the Moon. They were fascinated with the Lord of Light's creations, and the frail, transient beauty of humanity was irresistible draw. Many of the Gods and demigods played with Bhunivelze's creations. The Dark Lord and the Moon pursued the beauty of human flesh because it simply amused them; it was said the Dark Lord invented the game of love, which the first man stole from The Lord's servant, Lindzei the snake, before he was cast from the garden of Eden. His brother the Moon would laughingly watch his brother and shake his silvery head at the tears and pleas of whatever human his heartless brother had enraptured, and just as heartlessly dallied with just as many maidens, seducing them in his beautiful tent, all silver like his glorious glowing presence.
Indeed, it was a wondrous thing; the tent was cleverly disguised as any nomad's black tent on the sands, but the telltale sign was the east awning lamp: It shone with a steady gleaming silvery light, just like the moonbeams we see every night. "
Lightning curiously interjected: "Noel, wait! I saw all the tents here had colored glass in the lamps - red, blue, green...but no silver - is that why?"
Noel gently smiled and gave his sidelong appraisal of approval and nodded as he spoke: "Clever of you to notice, Valkyrie; we nomads always have lamp on the east awning, and yes, they are colored so we are never tricked by elementals like the moon's silver light, or by demons, whose lamps burn yellow green, like the phosphorescence below the earth in caves. Now, attend to my tale, beauty..."
"Once inside, it was as if one was in heaven; the curtains were cloth of silver, the rugs were silver thread, but were soft as the finest silk, woven by the Djinni of the Underworld; when you walked across one, it was as if your footsteps left behind were soft molten silver, and the bed,…ah, it was soft as clouds and strewn with so many silver brocaded pillows, one could build a mountain to the heavens! The trays, the lamps, the bowls and tea cups, all, all silver; the display of wealth was only the first stroke to seduce his human morsel. He would casually leave out the loveliest garments carefully embroidered in silver thread, or strewn with brilliants like stars in the sky; if that failed to please, a chest of exquisite jewelry was invisibly waved forward, with djinni masterworks in white metals, delicate as lace, set with all manner of gemstones in white: pearls, diamonds, zircons, and his favorite, the moonstone. He never offered food, but drink in plenty, intoxicants to bring the firmest resolve to nothing but eagerness, but even so, a few hearts were stout and clung to their memory of their beloved, so he crafted a clever trick with the help of his brother's Djinni. The one thing that never failed to weaken a maid's resolve was the roof of the tent above the bed; it was dark as the night sky, strewn with thousands of diamonds and magically glamoured; the Moon would lie back with his plaything and playfully ask her name, then write it with his finger in the air; then the diamonds would arrange themselves and spell the name as he would turn to her and charmingly say: "So I will never forget you in my lonely nights!"
Now, things had been going in this vein for some time for the moon, and soon he became bored, then jaded and cruel. He sought many times to break a heart just because he could; men began to curse the Moon, for they had their lovers, their sweethearts and sisters, daughters give up their dearest possession all for naught, the inconstant fickle Moon.
However, one man was clever, and planned to outsmart the Moon and his heartless ways; His name was Ishmael and he had been pursuing a gem of a woman from the tent of his tribe, a dark haired beauty named Inanna. Now, Ishmael and Inanna were truly in love with each other, and feared the appetites of the gods; at first they thought to trick the gods and tried various disguises: Inanna would pretend to limp, or hid behind a veil and cackled like an old woman to throw the hungry gods off; but as luck would have it, the moon espied her when bathing at the wadi and became enamoured of her; he courted her most extravagantly, and almost daily love-gifts arrived; each night he would stand outside the tent with his lamp of moonbeams and quote poetry or make music to tempt her to come to him. Now, her father and the elders of the tribe were loath to annoy the gods, especially an elemental like the moon; they berated Inanna for not going to the moon and giving him what he wanted; she held firm for some time, until her father threatened to forbid her the tent over her head; she ran to Ishamel and wept on his strong shoulder, thinking her life was not hers to command; she wished with all her heart Ishmael would declare himself and spare her the humiliation of being the moon's paramour. Ishamel did adore his Inanna, and did his best to help her through the rock and the hard place. Before he knew it, he was on his knees quoting his grandfather's love-poetry and kissing her ankles peeping out from the long veil; Inanna grew faint from desire and before she knew it, her legs parted allowed her Ishamel a glimpse of heaven that the moon so eagerly desired.
Ishamel was now a man with something to lose, and decided to keep her virtue untouchable except by his hand alone, he desired her so much – it spoke volumes of his courage, that he was willing to fight the moon for such a woman! He thought carefully about everything humans knew about the moon, and found something so simple, even a child could do it. He knew the moon could never cross into day, and simply set a trap to keep him occupied until dawn. He had yards of golden chain set aside for his bride-price, and armed his wits and the chain, he approached Inanna: He begged her to hear him out, using his most tender words and gestures to sway her opinion. Undressing his peerless love to her pretty pale skin, he carefully wound and knotted the chain until it resembled a beautiful lace pattern of gold over her luscious curves, then sealed it with a kiss, which magically enhanced the wish of their hearts: no hand but Ishmael's would touch Inanna's body.
That night, when the moon came courting, she shyly stepped outside her family's tent and appeared to listen raptly to the smooth silver-voiced elemental speaking of Inanna's beauty in verse; she allowed herself to be mounted on his steed, a great white stallion with a silver star, then ride for his tent in the depths of the desert; she pretended to be awed at the gleaming silver tent, but took no wine, only water. He led her to the bed, and lay her down with his cheap petty trick; he spelled her name and the diamond stars rearranged themselves to her name as if sparkling in the night sky; then the Moon set himself to disrobing the girl; upon seeing the golden chains crisscrossed on her lovely curves, the Moon was surprised and playing to his confusion, Inanna knelt and pretended to burst into tears, crying she was not fit for the noble Moon. A cruel lover had cursed her. He moved to simply cut them asunder, but she begged him to unwind them, as she could tell if they were bound by magic to cut her if cut. He blanched at the thought of her lovely body crisscrossed with scars and slowly tried to unwind them, but it was slow going; and yes, Inanna also was clever, hindering the poor moon with small screams as if the chain was tightening around her flesh and pleading for him to slow down, she could feel the magic burning into her skin; she interspersed it with long lines of poetry, expressing her admiration of the handsome moon, going into verbal ecstasies over his silver hair and pale flesh. The trick worked and she was still wrapped about the hips by the time the dawn broke; as he began to fade in the growing light he asked: " Who was it that has bound you so well to them, lovely Inanna?" She only smiled and wrote the name with her finger and the diamonds in his tent-sky arranged themselves into the name Ishmael.
The gods were watching and had a hearty laugh at the couple's cleverness, so they set a punishment on the moon: For his everlasting fickleness, he must wax & wane every night, one night for each year he had dallied on the desert sands of their world. And that is how the moon waxes and wanes with each cycle, my rose-haired beauty!
Inanna stayed bound to Ishamel and until the day she died, she wore his chains; it was passed down as a symbol of love and protection, that no one shall touch what is another's.
And that, my beautiful E'Claire, is the story of the first binding between a man and a woman."
Noel looked up under his lashes and discreetly coughed to clear his throat; Lightning broke her rapt expression and nearly jumped for the tea, almost eagerly offering him a cup to wet his throat; the story was amusing and far better told than she thought it would be; another incongruity about Noel Kreiss to add to the current list. She'd have to re-think him again; his trained eloquence was rather delightful, and she wondered how he was changing; being around people was one thing, but being with his people was bringing out a side of Noel that began to make her go soft inside; she'd had only a glimpse in the garrison, and this tenderly charming young man letting his fingers linger on hers as she handed him a tea cup was altogether a far stronger seduction than ten of Johel. What is happening to me? I should be angry…but I'm all eyes…
"So…the tribes followed the legend of Ishmael? It is like marriage, then, Noel?"
"It is not only marriage, but for two souls or two hearts to learn to beat as one. You can't keep a people alive if two mates have two different directions in life, Claire. You asked me what love was this morning, and I will say love is an integral part of binding; but so is the discipline of teaching. Although men and woman are fundamentally human with the same needs, there are so many differences in perception it makes us like a separate species to each other. For example, a woman will be slow to be attracted to a man, but over time, she slowly changes her perception of him by observation of his actions, his character, and her loves grows; it is seldom the lightning bolt from heaven, yes?
In contrast, men will love with their eyes immediately, hastily overlooking character in their pursuit of what their eyes are filled with; then upon possession, they begin to learn of the person behind the image, then their love slowly drains away like a spilled flask of oil in the sand: Like the fickle Moon , we waver, growing then shrinking in interest - unless we are patient and follow Etro's script and truly understand there is a right place, a right time a right person for everything, especially for the needs of your soul. Too late men learn that beauty is not always a fair face and form; sometimes it is the strength of a heart, or the keen beauty of a saber's edge..."
"Binding helps bring it all into balance, in a way. If it does not work, then both are free to walk away."
Lightning was puzzled at this speech, because it seemed to her that Noel was trying to exercise total domination over her being - it seemed a far cry from the tender tale of Ishmael & Inanna. So she carefully asked him: "What is your take on this as a man? What is the man's point of view? Can you please tell me...more?"
Noel held his cup out to be refilled with more tea, sweet, hot & strong, scented with cardamon tonight. He was absolutely thrilled she'd asked how HE felt! Now, he could get somewhere with her, she'd settle down and accept him more easily, once he explained his role as a man in binding with a woman. She just had to see he was serious about her!
"E'Claire, lie back a moment and close your eyes and think of the men you've known. Then throw them onto the trash heap of your memory & burn them! Look, attend to me, I am different. We Nomads are not just men, we are a righteous men, and carry much in our hearts. We respect what has made us; how many city men can quote the scripts of Etro from memory? We strive to be patient; the desert teaches us the absolute harshness of life here on Gran Pulse. We all know a secret the city men do not: we are all interdependent on each other. When you are left alone with nothing but sky and sand, it tests your soul, your heart as well as your body. Life is precious, and I do not say that just because I am last born from the end of time, I say it because it is what the desert taught me.
Being a man at the end of time also taught me something: loneliness; and not for just any face that was not my own, but for a mate. I wanted to die when I finally understood what last born meant: It meant I would die alone, no lover, no friend to bury my bones or grieve for me."
"I was blessed beyond all men when Etro gave me a future I said I wanted: one with people in it; but the real thing I prayed for was someone…for me. Just one person, who'd look for my face, who'd have my name on their lips, someone to love. Now, imagine if you will, trying to find someone after eons of loneliness. You search, you wait, you pray, then give up. Then you get dropped in the arms of what you longed for all your life. We see this incredible creature in front of us, we are intrigued, we want to spend much more fulfilling time in your company. What do you say? Do? Of course you make a mess of it, no road is smooth; but you keep trying. How do I describe when we are exhilarated at the very sight of someone, the sound of their voice, their lightest touch? How do we express our all consuming passion then? We are civilized beings, not animals who rut one moment and forget the next. It is the passage of time, of memory that makes us nomads different.
So...eventually you find a way, just as Ishmael and Inanna did and allow yourself to be flung off the precipice with total trust in each other to a place of enlightenment. Ah, can you imagine such bliss?"
Noel quietly laughed, his vanity well pleased at the softness of her eyes now; then craftily, cleverly, let the honey of a come hither roll off his tongue, deliberately inserting the soft rolling R's of his tribe that he knew caught at her ear: "Can you blame me for wanting something of the same for myself, Claire?"
"I want that bliss, that burning ecstasy, even if it only happens once in my life…but I think all it takes is the right partner, and…time. And you and I, we have not years but centuries to play in, if we chose…"
His voice lowered to a murmur, velvety: "What is an hour, or a day or two compared to that? It is but a blink of your eye; how often do you count those? Let yourself go with me on a journey; they say the undiscovered country is far more exciting than the well-trodden paths of mediocrity."
He could see she was visibly fascinated; her eyes were no longer lynxlike, but intense, open, unafraid.
"You do not have to answer now; it is but the opening of a dialogue between us, between Claire and Noel; and I? I will allow you to taste the sweetness and the pain for a full day and night without penalty, because…"He drew a shaking breath before saying it: "Because I want you. I truly want you for my own."
Lightning was filled with a rush of emotion she could not name; she felt the depth of his loneliness, yet it was clear he recognized no law but his own wishes when it came to love….if it could be called that. Dare she trust him for a day? She had no answer in her, except the call of the body bliss, so she stayed silent, thoughtfully looking at him in the firelight.
The silence filled the tent before Noel shook his shaggy head then said: "Ah, enough of stories tonight; hand me the oil, and I'll show you some of the basics about using it out here in the sand. Your new friend has good taste, by the way; I haven't smelled night jasmine in a long time." He busied himself with rummaging for towels and kicking off his shoes to get comfortable.
"Can I pick the day? Or is it part of the custom to pick it yourself?" Noel's heart pounded and his blood sang for a few moments as he heard that –he hadn't expected this at all! He decided right then and there she would get a taste tonight, seeing as she was THAT interested: " I will allow you your pick, with my own caveat: Before the next full moon. Agreed?"
"Agreed, Noel Kreiss. I hope I hear you tell me more stories; it made me laugh, and understand about how things are out here, in the sand. "
He definitely preened himself after hearing that and gallantly replied: "I'll quote you the entire book of The Lover, provided you don't fall asleep on me, girl. You'll like Balle and the anvil; it makes your old lover Johel look like a nun!"
The lesson of using oil was a seduction in reverse which Noel thoroughly enjoyed teaching; most men would have tried to use the oil on the woman and get their hand or face slapped for layng hands where one shouldn't; they foolishly left the woman to say yes or no. He decided to let her think she was in control by handing her the oil and making her the hands, he the body. He talked her through warming it with her hands, testing the scent, how to filter any grit before applying it, especially when in the sand.
He lay back on the rug and pillows, describing the hand movements, then expressed with non-verbal cues what he enjoyed; it was she who pulled the shirt off later, and daringly untied the drawstring of the loose pants until he was nearly unclothed on the soft rug. Noel let his head fall back and shut his eyes as the hands worked tension loose; he gave evidence of pleasure with soft throaty sounds until she felt she had total control of the situation; she felt confident that he was hers to command. And command she did later...ohh yes explore me, touch me, find the secrets of my body you pretty little lynx face...I love it that you're curious about me and yes, i like your hands there, you can go lower, i won't bite...maybe i'll sting,but hurt you? never.
Slowly, she became charmed by him during this evening of revelation and exploration. It wasn't that he was some herculean warrior rippling with muscles, the massive, deep-thewed, wide chested brawn of furry masculinity most women swooned over. He was lean as a greyhound, long reed-like limbs and an absurdly slim waist, but Etro, when he dropped his shirt, her breath would catch at the lean symmetry of the bronzed torso and the pop of veined biceps and triceps on his tanned arms. His hands were big, but well-shaped, a square palm with long fingers that could be gentle as a breath of air; the swordsman's calluses were a subtle excitement that matched the rock solid wrist when they touched her. His face was becoming addictive in its own right; she was fascinated at the way Noel was moaning and arching into her hands, eager to feel pleasure, just like a woman - then a wild, strange desire took hold of her and she suddenly wanted to be the one to bring him to that nirvana of ecstasy he had talked of earlier- how would he know what it is? How does a man who'd been a virgin until two months ago know about breaking through the gates of ecstasy?
Lightning was quite surprised at her odd trail of thoughts during the gentle exploration of Noel's oiled, now-sexy body - again another puzzle piece that didn't fit the image of the stern demon bent on dominating her body soul for the next eon; he seemed more like someone who just wanted something more than what most women offered. She gently chucked him under his chin to look up, somehow wanting to know what he was thinking, feeling - his eyes would tell no lie she thought to herself; and true to her self-prediction Noel's eyes were now clear and steady; she couldn't help but remember how she'd compared him to a panther cub, all innocent playful gaze and soft coat and briefly smiled at him with an amused tenderness and almost playfully herself let her lips graze his then rub gently against a bronzed cheek. Noel contentedly laid there against her for a while until she drifted off to sleep under the saddle blanket she pulled on top of them both. Then he silently rose, and stared at the cascading embers of the night fire for the longest time the clean browline knotting and unknotting as he reflected upon the day's lesson.
The dawn was again sweet and clear, and again Lightning felt the tug of a rope on her ankle as she tried to rise; but this time she smiled, now thinking it more of a whimsy of her desert lover, instead of thinking she was a prisoner of war. He was apparently feeling whimsical, as she was rolled back into him ungently as he pulled his ankle back.
"Since when do you think it's fine to rise without giving a greeting the nomad way to Etro? Ahhh...I see how you are now...you must be a sister to the moon, seducing innocent nomads and disappearing with the dawn!" He elegantly dropped a hand over his face and said into the air: "I should have known by that damned rose tint of your hair - I am doomed! How will I live with the shame?"
"Oh Ishmael, if you were serious, you might have used golden chain instead of camel rope!" holding a slim ankle up she shook it at him.
He burst into laughter at that, and gave in, untying the rope. "Eat quickly, but not heavily. We will be active today in the sun. Can you drape a keffeyah? It will keep the sun from hurting you."
15 minutes later, they were striding to Daniel's tent where a group of men and women were gathered. she shyly tugged at his djellaba sleeve: "What, Claire?" She quietly said: "Ya'asalaam' ah'Etro, Noel Kreiss."
His face lightened all over and he walked with a spring in his step to the small knot of men around Daniel. After a list was checked, they all were herded to the corral of mounts and paired off on camels; then they trekked for a few miles to another side of the oasis beyond the shield wall, where a small green valley was guarded by men and horse boys – it was a lovely sight to see the herd wheel like a flock of birds as the men whistled in greeting.
The day was spent observing and choosing horses; apparently Noel had made a purchase with the tribe; he never directly acknowledged her picks from the herd, but ensured she overheard his discussion of each horse's attributes with the men nearby; she slowly realized he was doing it for her benefit and education of desert horses and soon realized how much more he knew about them than she; her choices were soon picked apart by the Noel's observations of their stride, how they moved, or didn't, with the herd, the way a foreleg bent at the knee, how the hocks turned in or out too much and a hundred other small observations that made up a good mount.
Noel finally settled on two matched bays, brother and sister, a season apart; Daniel was well pleased with his new tribesman, and began to teasingly call him his brother. The men went into separate the buyer's picks from the herd, and then a long afternoon of breaking them back to bridle and saddle happened. The women were not confined to mundane tasks - many were called upon to help with taming, based on skill; some were far more talented in getting a horse to accept a bridle or a weight in the saddle than the men; Lightning was politely requested to bring water to the horses and later pour tea to anyone who wanted it; she wandered in awe of the beautiful creatures and their restless fiery spirits; one even had a muzzle so delicate it could fit into a comfit-bowl; the mare tossed her dark mane coquettishly after daintily sucking a cool drink from Lightning's water bucket; she smiled despite herself and teasingly spoke to her as if she were able to understand: "Oh, Inanna! You should be careful whose bucket you drink from! Does my water shine like the moon today? Or the sun?"
The small group of men and women nearby suddenly had wide white grins upon hearing that and much tickled at her gentle wit with their prized pick, they called out:" Inanna! Eennaanna!" at the lovely black-blue coated mare and she pricked her ears and eagerly trotted forward; they all laughed and started to caress the creature, then gently led her off to be saddled.
Her new owner was a girl of thirteen, and thrilled to have her as her first mount as gift from her doting father. However, the horse became impatient to rejoin the herd and threw her overconfident rider; danger arose quickly as the herd was slowly thundering across the rise to them; so Lightning ran for all she was worth to the horse & downed rider; others were screaming & waving keffiyehs at the other men; she made the choice to swing on the horse and get her calmed to stop her from bolting or trampling the girl, who was just starting to stir on the sand.
Inanna-horse was now a fiercely independent thing and bucked wildly, her new rider heavier and less foolish ; then she fought to get the bit in her teeth; shaking her head furiously, she bolted towards the herd, and was sucked in; Lightning saw Noel galloping full speed towards the girl, then dipping down, one leg around the saddlehorn as he pulled the girl up and threw her across the horse and galloped off; she yipped in joy at his incredibly brave move. Then Lightning turned her attention back to her mount Inanna; she fought for command of the bit, but her arms quickly tired from pulling the nose into the chest and she almost lost control until Noel reappeared through the dust clouds and matched the bay's pace to Inanna's. The mare calmed enough to let the bit go after a few minutes, then he leaned over and grabbed the ear and then the bridle, slowing her then pulling her out of the herd.
"Give me the reins!" he commanded. "Come! To me!" Was the next – he yelled above the dull roar and whinnies: "Kick a stirrup loose, push off the saddle and hold my sash – I won't let you fall." She landed in his saddle and he slowly drew her close. Noel turned the horses back to now distant people – dust streaked his face, they both were flecked with horse's lather & smelled of horse sweat but the exhilaration was sky high.
The family blessed Noel & Lightning as soon as they were within earshot, and the father earnestly promised his child would serve Noel to pay back the life-debt incurred. Lightning was hard put to accept Inanna as a gift, but Noel stepped in and teasingly whispered to the man to not rob him of the pleasure of a love-gift to his rose haired bind-mate; besides, he was half afraid she'd bolt just like the horse in the night in the back of his mind; he could see the slump of her shoulders at letting the lovely black go. Noel asked that his child help teach her nomad ways and be a companion to his woman, which was agreed to with delight. Satisfied, the two groups parted and they cantered off on the bay. He noted her silence and the way she hid her disappointment, still like a soldier. He wished he could reach her, he was frustrated that for a while it seems they were as one, but the horse seemed to divide them.
Daniel called out when they rode up and the son of the sheik grinned ear to ear, despite the dust on his face and beard: "So! I see you have your mount nicely in hand; are you ready to come back tomorrow and tame his sister to your lady's hand?"
Noel had the grace to blush under the dust before replying: "She nearly had one for each hand today! Etro, that was a close call for the girl!"
"Ah! Erienne's tent always did have cheeky little gits! You should have taken the horse, and taught the little jade a lesson! See you at the fire later, Noel!" Daniel saluted Lightning with a flash of dark eyes and a hand to forehead before rakishly grinning and galloping off to chase the camels. Noel made to do the same, but Lightning's hand on the reins stopped him.
"Did I misunderstand Daniel, or did he just let me know you bought me a horse?"
He was silent, but looked at her, not wishing to tell her until the moment was right. But some god knew the time was right and nudged Lightning instead.
Wordlessly she turned in the saddle and looked at him, straight in his eyes; ever so slowly, she laid her head against his shoulder, then turned to him, and hid her face in his robes. Almost smiling, hidden against his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart she thought: He really cares for me. He didn't leave me to struggle with a half broken horse - He bought me a superb gift! Tonight's the night. I will tell him I choose tonight to be with him – if this is what binding means, I just might be for it. The wild desert scent of Noel, spicy myrrh and clean warm skin filled her nostrils as he drew her closer then Noel whispered to himself: Tonight. Let it be tonight.
"Tonight." Was all she said. Then they were off, like the cool wind at sunset, sweeping across the sands.