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Ancient Dreams an X- Files eroticon 4/5
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated!
WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated!
The story you are about to read contains SEX, written in loving detail.
If that bothers you, either do NOT read this story, or get someone who
doesn't mind erotica to black out all the juicy parts for you before you
read it. If you're underage, get your parent's permission to read it.
Don't flame me if you're silly enough to go ahead and read it after I
warned you, and then get offended by it. --kms
This story copyright 1994 by the author. Permission to distribute freely
is given, provided you do not attempt to sell it. The X-Files is a
trademark of Fox Television, characters not used by permission.
Kellie Matthews-Simmons//[email protected]
Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos."
"Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze"
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Ancient Dreams, pt. 4
Kellie Matthews-Simmons
Thirsty. She was thirsty. She licked her lips, hoping to moisten
their dryness, but her tongue was nearly as parched. There was something
tight around her shoulders, and she wasn't very comfortable in a
half-sitting, half-lying position, with something bumpy under her rear and
thighs. She was also moving slightly, back and forth. It was making her
seasick. She could hear someone speaking, a soft, soothing almost-
whisper, deep and low. A man's voice. Maybe he'd get her a drink.
"Irstee," she managed hoarsely, and flinched at the increased
pounding in her temples. She heard a gasp, and she thought for a moment
she was falling backward, but something behind her shoulders slowed the
movement, though her head was now tipped uncomfortably backward. What the
hell? Where was she? She opened her eyes to find Fionn's face close to
her own, wearing an expression that seemed to combine fear, concern,
surprise, and joy, all at once. It finally registered that he was holding
her in his lap, rocking her like a child.
"Ah, thank the Mothers! You're alive!"
She stared at him for a long moment, puzzled. "Yeah, shouldn't I
be?" Or that was what she'd meant to say. It came out more like "Eah,
shun ee bay?"
He laughed, and leaned down, his lips sealing hers. Suddenly she
forgot all about hurting, all about thirst, all about confusion. His
mouth was magical, soft, yet firm, the pressure just right. She lifted
her arms and slid them behind his neck, burying her fingers in the thick
silk of his hair, drawing him closer, urging him to more intimacy. He
yielded for a moment, his tongue slicking into her mouth, moistening the
dryness, and exciting her unbearably, then he pulled back with a gasp.
"Nay, lass... you're nowhere near ready for that yet. How do you
feel?"
Disappointed by his reaction, it took her a moment to marshall her
thoughts coherently. She realized she felt awful, which was a real
contrast to what his mouth had made her feel.
"I feel..." her words were more intelligible now. "...like
someone worked me over. What happened?"
"You Crossed Over, unprepared, and alone. For a mortal that could
be fatal, you're lucky I was able to catch you and bring you back! In
fact, you're damned lucky to be alive! What d'you think you were doin'?"
For a *mortal*? What was that supposed to mean, she wondered, as
she answered him. "I was following you."
"Why, for Pete's sake?" he asked, the Americanism slipping oddly
from his mouth. "Were you after killin' yourself?"
"I didn't know... I just wanted to talk to you, and I thought you
were going away."
"Oh," he looked a bit taken aback. "but to follow me into the
Tir... lass, how could you be so foolish?"
"What's... the teer?"
"Tir nan Og, the Summerland. Surely you've heard of... no, I can
see you've not. Leave it to an ignorant American to follow where the
proverbial angels fear to tread."
Dana bristled, trying to sit up, only to realize she was on his
lap, held in his arms. She subsided, scowling.
"I am not ignorant!" she snapped
"Yes, y'are. In these things, anyway. Lass... never travel in
myths you've not researched." he said in utter seriousness.
"But *where*... I mean, what is it? Why shouldn't I have followed
you?"
"'Tis another world, one that lies beside, or perhaps more
accurately, inside yours. One your human senses cannot fully comprehend
or deal with."
She struggled upright, pushing away from him. "What do you mean,
one my *human* senses can't comprehend?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "Ah, lass, you still don't see?
You're human, I'm not."
Dana suddenly wondered if she was dreaming. Dreams didn't have to
make sense. In a dream one could carry on a perfectly deranged
conversation like this with impugnity. She pinched the skin of her wrist
and winced. It hurt, which unfortunately meant she wasn't dreaming. She
studied him... he seemed perfectly human to her.
"Then what are you? An alien? You don't look like an alien.
They're supposed to be little guys with big heads, black eyes, and gray
skin."
His smile faded somewhat. "No, we're not them, and they're not us.
We're just a different kind of native, as much children of Earth as you
are, only we're not quite the same. Where your ancestors learned to use
fire, mine learned to use the mind. Over time we became two very
different kinds of being, though we may have begun the same."
"Right," she said sarcastically. "How stupid do you think I am?"
"Oh, not stupid at all. You're probably far more intelligent than
I am, and definitely more learned in the way Humans think of learning.
You're just ignorant in this thing, as I said."
"Okay, show me how you're different, then. You don't look
different."
"I will..." he said softly, a teasing smile playing around his
mouth.
He closed his eyes, she felt a shifting, a strange shiver of his
skin where it touched hers. Beneath her thighs she felt something change,
sinking away; where her back rested against his chest she felt a new
pressure and softness. His face blurred and softened, his lips became
fuller, redder, his features finer and less masculine, his eyebrows
thinner... He opened his eyes and it hit her suddenly, what was
different.
"Oh my god!" she gasped, and suddenly Banbha's words about
choosing a gender made sense.
"Aye, you see it now. And that's just one example of how we're
different." Even the voice was dissimilar... higher, huskier, rounder.
Just subtly, but enough.
She fought free of his... her embrace and knelt on the bed, facing
Fionn; staring at the long, sleek legs, so much rounder now, with that
underlying layer of fat that makes a woman's body softer-looking than a
man's.
"You're... you're..."
"Female. Aye, for the moment, though I can hold it for only a day
or so without the Earth's help to remold me. To change like this is a
minor thing, a parlor trick."
"But... how?"
"The same way I can do this..." he waved a hand at the chamber
they were in. The bedcover shimmered and changed from aqua to a deep,
rich purple, then became fur. The bed writhed and became dark walnut
instead of pale oak. A fireplace sprang into being where a window had
been.
"Stop, please, it's making me dizzy."
"I'll not do it any more. I just wanted to prove my point."
"How... how do you do it?"
"I... look at how it is, and then I make it as I wish it to be. I
look deep, and make the changes there, and they... become. I know that
makes no sense to you, but I can't explain it any other way. To me 'tis
instinctive, to you 'tis impossible."
She closed her eyes, feeling sick as another realization hit her.
Brother Andrew..."
Fionn nodded, frowning. "I believe he was one of us, though
untrained and nearly as ignorant as you. He could have killed you, the
fool! It doesn't take anywhere near that level of glamour to make a human
woman willing."
"Is that what you did you me... in Ennis? A glamour?" Dana asked
softly.
Fionn flushed and would not meet her gaze. "I started to, yes, but
then I realized it was wrong. I had never realized that before. I've
lived four-hundred lifetimes, and never saw it was wrong before. I had no
right to touch you without your consent. Please forgive me.
His, no, her, eyes were shadowed and clear, without deception.
Dana felt she was looking into his soul. Her soul. This was so
confusing!
"I will forgive you, but tell me this, *why* do you do that? Why
do you need to take human lovers?"
S/he sighed. "Because there are so few of us. For a long time
that didn't matter, we haven't the same inhibitions you humans do. But
then the children began to show the effects of it... the Be'an were born,
the Pooka. They were made wrongly, sometimes in body, sometimes in mind,
sometimes both. Only by studying Human science did we find out what was
wrong. We had become too inbred. From then on we had to look to
Humankind for lovers and mates, to make sure no more monsters were
created."
Monsters... Dana shivered, thinking of Eugene Tooms. Could he
have been one of those? A malformed, mutant Faerie child? Was he the
product of the Kindred? The elasticity of his muscular and skeletal
structure could be an outgrowth of this shapechanging abililty. She had
to accept Fionn's tale, it seemed. What choice had she? She'd met the
Kindred, and she'd seen, and more importantly, *felt* Fionn change from
male to female. The reality was there, unless she really was dreaming.
But this was unlike any dream she'd ever had.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, trying to make sense out
of everything. "Aren't you afraid I'll betray you?"
Fionn smiled, his features blurring as he shifted back to his male
form. "To whom? None would believe you, save those who already know of
us. You don't even believe it yourself, do you?"
Dana felt shaken, knowing he was right. She didn't, and no one
else would either. Even Mulder would have a hard time with this one.
Thinking of him she suddenly realized... was this how Mulder felt?
Knowing something was true, yet having no one believe you, doubting even
yourself? She didn't like it. It made her feel helpless, and paranoid.
"Aye, it does, doesn't it? You should be easier on him. He's no
fool, that one."
She gasped, eyes narrowing as she studied him, knowing she hadn't
spoken aloud. "You're a telepath?"
"I told you, we learned to use our minds the way your people
learned to use tools. You humans could do it, if you tried. We come,
after all, from common roots. All that we are, you could be. Sometimes
there are children born to you who should have been born to us, and vice
versa. We try to trade, when possible, but are not always able. A child
of the Folk growing up among humans is very alone, and sometimes
dangerous."
"Is that what happened to her?"
"Her?" he queried, puzzled.
"Mulder's sister. Did you take her?"
"Show me..." he said, leaning forward and taking her hands.
"How?" Dana asked, confused.
"Just think of him, think of what you know... ah!" His face was
eloquent with disgust. "Liathann! No, that was not our doing! There
are... other beings, other influences. We cannot talk to the Liath, they
are too... different," he shuddered.
Dana tried to imagine a being that Fionn would find strange, and
shivered herself. She was relieved that he had returned to his original
form. It was too strange for words, knowing that the man before her had
been a woman just moments earlier. It challenged her beliefs at a very
basic level. She studied him, shaking her head.
"Why do I believe you?"
"Because you know it is the truth."
"I have no proof."
"Truth needs no proof."
"Truth must have proof," she countered.
"No, some truths just... are."
"Why did you stop?"
He looked puzzled. She was pleased by that, it meant he had not
been reading her mind. The thought that he was always in there had
bothered her.
"What?"
"In Ennis, when you came to me... why did you stop?"
His eyes darkened and he looked away. "I was... ashamed."
She looked at him and smiled. "You've tasted the apple."
He got the reference instantly, and laughed. "So I have, and
wholly fallen from innocence."
She looked away, suddenly shy. "I was afraid... I thought
maybe..."
He caught her hands in his, drew them to his lips. "No, never
that. I wanted you more than I've wanted anyone in longer that I can
remember. But I knew if I took you, you would never forgive me, and that
I could not bear."
Her heartbeat skyrocketed as his lips moved against her fingers,
then he turned her hands in his and his tongue tasted the pulse in her
wrist, then in the softness inside her elbow. She shivered as he lifted
his head, his eyes alight with desire.
"But now you're here, and whole, and knowing, and so am I. And I
would love you as a man, if you will have me."
"As a man?" she asked, not understanding his implication.
"As a man, without resorting to a glamour, or dreamweaving, or any
of the other tricks of my kind. Just... as a man."
She realized he was shaking, she could feel his hands trembling.
He was afraid. Afraid of just being who he was, afraid she would say no,
afraid she would say yes. She was afraid of those same things, every one
of them.
"I... would like that," she heard herself say, and felt a flash of
fear. What on earth was she doing? What was the matter with her? Was he
using a... glamour on her? No... as soon as she thought it, she knew he
wasn't. He wouldn't, not now. She felt the attraction shimmering between
them. She wanted him, and had since the first time she'd seen him. It
was impulsive, and crazy, and very un-Scully. But she didn't *want* to be
Scully for awhile, she was tired of it. She wanted to be Dana, just Dana,
just a woman. She was tired of being controlled, and cool, and
professional and walled-off. She wanted to be someone else for awhile.
Someone impulsive, and open, and free.
"Fionn," she whispered. "I want you, but I'm afraid."
He shook his head. "Don't be, I'd never harm you, never"
"It's not you I fear." she said, reaching for his hand.
Understanding lit his face, and he let her take his hand and guide
it to her lips.
"Don't fear yourself either, Dana."
Easier said than done, she thought, then looked down at his hand,
clasped in hers. "You have beautiful hands, you know..." she whispered,
running her tongue along the grooves of his knuckles. She turned his hand
palm up and pressed a kiss into the center. He shivered, but stayed
still, letting her take the initiative.
"Dana...?" he whispered, making her name a question.
She knew what he was asking, and nodded, slowly. He put his free
hand behind her head, working out the pins that held her hair in a French
knot. Once they were out he pushed his fingers through it, loosening it,
until it fell free, brushing her shoulders. He slid his hand behind her
neck and cupped the back of her head, tilting her face up as he leaned
down and brushed her lips with his. She shuddered, breathing fast and
shallow. She leaned toward him, her hand against his cheek as she sought
a deeper kiss.
He opened to her, giving her complete control. Dana took it, and
her tongue found his, dueling hotly, as the kiss rapidly escalated. Her
arms went around him, her hands fanning out against the broad, hard planes
of his back, urging him closer until they were pressed together from the
knees up. She could feel the hard length of his erection against her
belly, even through her jeans, shirt, and jacket. She pulled away,
suddenly anxious to be rid of those restrictions, and fumbled with the
zipper on her jacket. Her fingers were shaking so badly she couldn't open
it. He put his hand over hers, and she looked up at him, blushing both
with arousal and embarrassment.
"May I?" he asked.
She nodded. He eased the zipper down and slid her jacket off her
shoulders. Next he opened the buttons on her shirt, slowly, with infinite
patience. As each button came undone she seemed to feel a surge of
desire, and when he finally got the last one undone and spread her shirt
open, her nipples were diamond-hard beneath the t-shirt she wore instead
of a bra. He paused for a moment, until she arched back a little, lifting
her breasts, then his fingers stroked over her, his touch simultaneously
soothing and inflaming. She gasped, her hands coming up to cover his,
holding them in place against her as she lifted her mouth to his again,
licking and sucking at his lips and tongue, almost feral in her
excitement.
Fionn returned her wildness for wildness, his hands slipping from
beneath hers to yank her t-shirt up so he could touch her bared breasts.
A moment later he slid one hand down over the soft curve of her belly and
into the gap at the waist of her slightly too-large jeans, then on down to
cup her buttocks through the soft, thin cotton of her briefs. She curved
into his hand as he massaged her, his long fingers drifting low to where
the moisture of her arousal dampened the fabric; her mouth still sealed to
his as they drank each other in. She let her hands drift down his back,
to his hips, then to his thighs, until she felt the satin of his skin
beneath her fingers rather than coarse linen of his tunic. Then she moved
them behind, and back up again, to cup the hard, muscular curves of his
buttocks. As she'd expected, he was bare beneath the tunic, and he felt
vibrantly warm and alive under her touch.
Dana caressed him for a moment, pulling his hips tight against her
stomach, rubbing her body against his, then she let him go and wrenched
open her jeans, shoving them and her briefs down around her knees as she
shifted, spreading her thighs wider. He needed no urging. Without any
barriers between them, he cuppped his hand over her mons and touched her
gently, his fingers parting the moist curls, the soft flesh, caressing.
She moaned, shaking, and her hands returned to his shoulders, clutching at
him as she pulled her mouth from his with a gasp, and leaned against him
for support. He dropped his hand from her breast and cupped her behind,
lifting her, tilting her pelvis forward so he could push two fingers deep
into the core of her. She pressed her lips against his neck to still the
sounds she wanted to make as he gently stretched and stroked her. She
could barely keep herself on her knees, she was shaking so badly. All she
could think of was how he would feel inside her. It had been so long...
so long...
Suddenly agressive, she shifted, getting her feet under her, and
pushed him over backward with a little growl. He laughed as he went over,
and lay there, sprawled loosely, looking up at her with hot green eyes and
a wicked smile. She dragged her t-shirt off over her head and kicked off
her jeans, then leaned over him and unfastened his belt, tossing the heavy
length of bronze-disks-on-leather to the floor. That done, she discovered
that his tunic was just two rectangles of linen, without side seams. They
were wrapped and held at the shoulders with pins, and at the waist with
the belt. She turned the rings to unlock the pins and drew the sharp
metal carefully out of the fabric, then dropped them on top of his belt.
Gathering the front section of the tunic in her hand, she looked down at
him, grinning.
"I like this," she said. "Easy access."
He laughed, nodding. "Aye, sometimes the old ways are best."
She eased it down to about waist-level, exposing a broad chest and
flat stomach, furred with hair so dark a red it was nearly black. She
leaned down and kissed him again, her tongue tracing the sensual fullness
of his lips, then began to work her way south, kissing his chin, his
throat, his collarbone, his sternum, following the line of fine curls
where it arrowed beneath the fabric. Next to the white linen, his golden
skin showed its distinct olive undertones clearly. She eased one hand
under the bunched cloth and cupped his penis, feeling the rigid length of
him leap in her palm, feeling him tense and arch into her touch. She
looked up at him, her eyes lit with mischief.
"Well, you may be green, but you're sure as hell not little."
His eyes had been closed, his lashes dark fans against his cheeks,
but at her words they flew open. He studied her a moment, looking
puzzled, obviously not getting her joke, but he smiled tentatively.
"If that is a problem, I can be whatever you wish me to be. 'Tis
one advantage to being what I am. Most have wanted me to be as I am now,
but I can change that if you need... I can be smaller, larger, whatever
you like."
Dana stared at him, her joke forgotten. Did he mean what it
sounded like he meant?
"You don't mean you can change the size of your..." she suddenly
couldn't say it, it sounded too crass. "What exactly did you mean?"
He winked. "Let me show you, 'tis easier than saying."
In her palm he narrowed, lengthened, then a moment later the
proportions changed again, growing shorter, then yet again, as he
expanded, filling her hand until it was hard to close her fingers around
him. Her eyes widened as she stared down at his groin, where her hand and
his sex were still hidden beneath the fabric of his tunic.
"Oh my god! How did you... never mind. I don't want to know,"
she used her other hand to pull his tunic aside and discard it, and knelt
there for a moment, her hand caressing him, gently, watching the pulse in
his erection, lips parted with anticipation. After a moment she dragged
her gaze away and moistened her lips, taking a deep breath. "I... think
you were fine the way you started... this might be too much, at least at
first."
His smile was very knowing as he let himself resume his former
dimensions. "As you wish, but I can be however you like, whenever you
like. Just tell me." His voice was a silky whisper, as arousing as a
touch.
She nodded, eyes caught by his, mesmerized by the fire in them.
The flow of her desire was back, full stream. She moved astride him, but
didn't take him into her yet. Instead she knelt there, holding him,
brushing the soft warmth of her labia across cock, feeling the broad,
blunt tip of him part her and nudge within, creating a growing ache inside
her. His hands went to her hips, lightly resting there, holding but not
guiding as she moved. He closed his eyes again, and a soft groan escaped
him. She shivered at the sound, pleased to be the cause of it, excited by
the thought that he wanted her that much. She sank down a little, just
barely taking him into her, before lifting again.
His hands tightened almost painfully on her hips, then released
instantly, contrition written on his face.
"Ah, don't tease me, Dana! I've been celibate longer than you've
been alive."
She stilled, looking down at him in surprise. "You have?"
He nodded, hips arching upward as his body sought hers. "Aye."
"Why?"
"No one interested me."
"No one? In how long?"
He looked a bit desperate. "Do we have to talk about this right
now?"
She grinned mischeviously, but her hand moved on him, stroking.
"Yes, we do."
"'Tis hard to think with you touching... no, don't stop. I'll
manage."
His hand covered hers quickly when she made as if to stop,
preventing her, encouraging her. She stroked him, feeling the silk over
steel of completely aroused male. Her fingers explored him, and he made a
little sound of pleasure deep in his throat, bucking into her hand, his
breathing ragged.
"The... last time I took... a lover was... was... sometime during
the war," he said raggedly.
"Korea?" she inquired, curious enough to be distracted from the
burgeoning sensations inside her. She figured he didn't mean Vietnam,
though he didn't look old enough to have been celibate since before
either. She stilled her hand, allowing him to relax a little, and he
looked at her blankly.
"Have they called it something different now? I can never keep up
with you humans and your history. I thought it was called the Great War."
Her mouth dropped open. "World War *One*?"
He nodded. She shivered, faced suddenly with his non-humanness,
even though proof of his compatibility throbbed in her hand. His hands
caressed her hips softly, urging her on.
"Please, Dana, please... I need you."
"Why me?" she breathed quietly, resuming the gentle, rythmic
caress she had stopped.
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, struggling for control.
"Because... you're a complex, fascinating woman... I've never met
anyone like you before."
She laughed, delighted. "For that, you get a reward, whether or
not you really meant it."
She shifted over him, her hand moving down to guide him, and then
she was easing down, taking him inside her. She closed her eyes,
concentrating on the feel of him, the way her body opened to accomodate
him. Despite the fact that he'd resumed more average proportions at her
request, he was still very large, but she couldn't remember ever having
anyone feel this right inside her before. He was perfect, utterly
perfect. She rocked above him, circling her hips, using him as her center
of gravity.
"Dana..." his voice was dark and throaty.
She opened her eyes to find him gazing up at her with an expression
that took her breath away.
"Wha...what?"
"I meant it. Every word."
Unless he was a damned good liar, he was telling her the truth. He
chose that moment to run his hands up her sides then back down, stroking
her, his hips lifting beneath hers, following her movements. She forgot
all about how old he was. It didn't matter... all that mattered was how
he felt inside her. She leaned over, bracing her hands against his
shoulders, and began to move in earnest, loving the slide and thrust of
his heavy maleness inside her. He lifted his head and scattered kisses
over her throat, his hands coming up to caress her breasts, his fingers
tugging at her nipples. She whimpered, bucking on him.
His hands left her breasts to cup her buttocks and pull her down
onto him, urging her into a looping glide. She could feel her release
building, her muscles tensing in preparation and moved faster, working for
it. Suddenly he caught her hips in his hands and stopped her in mid-
motion, holding her still. She tried to move, and he wouldn't let her.
She struggled a little, frustrated.
"Wait, wait... let me...." his voice trailed off as he managed to
sit up, taking her weight on his hands and groin as he shifted position.
A moment later she was sitting on his lap with her legs around his waist,
his cock still buried in her aching softness.
"How'd you do that?" she gasped, not quite sure how he'd managed
to accomplish the change of position without ever withdrawing from her.
She liked it though, it still gave her control, but felt somehow more
equal, more intimate.
"Magic," he whispered, threading his fingers into her hair to draw
her toward him, taking her mouth with his in soft, open drugging kisses.
She squirmed, her breasts brushing his chest, her vagina clenching around
him, as she moved. Oh, god, he felt good! She arched, sliding on and
around him, discovering that the position brought her clitoris into almost
continuous contact with his cock. He reached down and gripped her thighs
in his hands, opening her wider, pulling her closer. Ecstasy blasted
through her, her nails digging into his back as the full pleasure of her
orgasm hit, slumping forward with her head against his shoulder. He held
her, stroking her back, his body still hard and unreleased within her.
When she could think again she realized he he hadn't finished, and
Dana leaned back so she could look at his face. His eyes were closed, his
breathing shallow, but steady and even, he almost looked like he was in
some kind of trance. She frowned, puzzled.
"Fionn?"
"Aye?" he whispered, radiating tension.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Why are you..."
"I want to pleasure you."
"You have."
"More.
"You will."
"Aye..." he sucked in a deep breath, "but I can't hold... you're
too sweet, and it's been too long..."
She took his face in her hands, stroking her fingers over his
cheekbones, down his nose, soothing. "You've already pleasured me, what
more do you want?"
He shuddered, trembling with the effort of control. "It's hard..."
She grinned. "I noticed."
He laughed, eyes opening. There was something akin to pain in
their verdant depths, despite his smile. She leaned forward and kissed
him.
"It's okay," she whispered against his mouth. "I promise, I want
this."
"No..." his voice was desolate. "I can't..."
"Why?"
"I'm afraid."
"Of what?"
"Losing control."
"It doesn't matter... I want you wild."
Her voice was dark and husky as she urged him on. He felt the
strength of her hands, her thighs, the muscle underlying her seal-soft
body. She was small, but she wasn't fragile. He smelled the hot scent of
her arousal and heard the passion in her voice. What he really wanted was
to Mate with her, but knew he would have to be content with less.
She ran a finger over his lips, her celadon eyes gone distant and
hazy with pleasure, then she moved on him, her body like a wet velvet
glove, very snug around him. Her movement broke his paralysis. He
gripped her tight against him and rolled with her, taking her beneath him.
She shifted a little, adjusting to his weight, tightening her thighs
around his hips. Slowly he pushed his upper body away from her, bracing
himself on his arms, his cock still held within her. She ran her hands up
his forearms, over the taut muscles of his shoulders, then around behind
him to rest against his lower back.
"You feel so good, you're so beautiful..." she whispered.
He shook his head, amazed. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"
She smiled, wriggling her hips, making him crazy. "If you like,
but you are, and changing the subject won't change that."
Women certainly had changed since he last had a human lover...
changed a lot. He lowered his mouth to hers, taking her soft, lush mouth
as if he could devour her. His hips curled forward instinctively, his
body pushing deep into hers. She moaned and he froze, burying his face in
the curve of her shoulder so he couldn't see her face, gasping.
"I'm sorry..."
"What for?"
"Hurting you," he whispered, ashamed, not meeting her eyes. He'd
been afraid he would do that if he lost control, and now he had. It was
so much easier to be sophisticated when all you were doing was talking, so
much easier to bring a woman to pleasure in a dream rather than in
reality.
She took his face in her hands, turning him toward her, forcing him
to look at her. There was no pain on her face.
"Fionn, you're not hurting me, I don't think you could! I love the
way you feel inside me!"
Her words sent an arc of fierce desire through him and he moved,
surging heavily into her. Her eyes closed and she curved upward, biting
her lip. He wanted to do the same. He leaned down and claimed her lips
again, urging her mouth open so his tongue could play with hers. Hers
played back. He laughed into their kiss, joyfully, it was so wonderful
having her awake and involved. He wasn't afraid any more.
Shifting his weight forward, Fionn drove into her, watching her
face, seeing her pleasure written on her face. He could feel it as if it
were his own. He kissed her eyelids, her nose, her cheekbone, her jaw,
arched his back so he could lean lower and suckle at her breasts. She met
and returned his kisses, her arms circling him, her hands splayed across
his back. He shifted back onto his knees and slid his hands beneath the
lovely, rounded curves of her buttocks to lift her into his thrusts. She
felt incredible, so hot, so slick, so tight. Her thighs tightened around
his hips and she went still with a soft cry, he could feel the explosion
of contractions around him as she came. With a shudder he lost himself in
her, letting the pleasure break inside him, almost painfully intense.
When he could think again he gathered her tight against him as the
pleasure slowly ebbed.
After a moment he felt her pushing against him lightly and lifted
to look down at her. She drew in a deep breath with a contented sigh.
"Better, couldn't breathe."
"Sorry," he said apologetically.
She shook her head. "Not necessary... taking a woman's breath away
is a talent to be proud of." She grinned. "You're not bad for a man your
age."
He laughed. "Thank you... I think."
She smiled, but absently. He could almost sense the shift in her
focus as she began to think about something other than satisfied desire.
"Fionn, how old *are* you?"
"I can't tell you."
She looked put out, her lower lip pushing out in a pout that made
him want to take her mouth with his. "You mean you won't." she amended,
irritably.
He kissed her, parting her lips with his, slicking his tongue into
her mouth intimately, echoing what they had just done. His body
responded, hardening, even though he'd just come. He was surprised by
that, and he curled his hips, rocking into the cradle of her thighs. She
tore her mouth from his with a gasp, her hands clutching at his hips.
This time he didn't mistake her response for pain. He knew better. He
rocked again, gently, establishing a slow, steady rhythm.
"No," he whispered. "I can't tell you, because I don't know. We
don't pay attention to the years, they seem so short. I know it was in
the fall, but no more."
"No year?" she queried, staying with her curiousity, though her
hands began to roam his flanks, and her hips lifted with each undulation
of his body in hers.
"No year."
"What's the first event you recall... human history."
He stilled, remembering, wishing he didn't. "The destruction of
Mona. I had a brother there... it was the first time I knew death."
His mouth closed over hers, preventing her from speaking again, and
for a moment his control slipped, his movements growing harder, harsher,
his mind filled with centuries-old anger at that needless waste. To his
amazement she responded to his fierceness, her knees coming up to open
herself more, to give her leverage as she pushed herself onto him. He
remembered her plea for wildness, and knew this time he had enough
self-control to give it to her. His anger had vanished back into the past
where it belonged, and his roughness held an edge of deliberation.
"Fionn?"
He lifted his head to find her gazing at him, her lips parted in
invitation. He shuddered at the look in her eyes... pale green fire, like
burning jade. The heat scorched him, drew him...
"Dana?" he answered softly.
"More..." she breathed, her voice a raw whisper.
He smiled knowingly. "As you ask... so be it." He closed his eyes
and reached out with other senses, feeling her need, sliding into her
thoughts to see what she really wanted. He felt no guilt at that, there
was nothing wrong with using his inborn talents to satisfy her. He shaped
himself to her desire, a little surprised at the depth of wildness in her.
He had not guessed her to be so untamed in her inner core.
He slid from her, leaving her gasping and arching, and rolled her
roughly onto her belly. She moaned and spread her thighs, inviting him.
He closed his hands over her buttocks, slid his fingers down low and
opened her, then mounted her. She yielded softly to his thrust, easily
taking him deep, sighing with pleasure. Moments later she tossed her
head, then pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. He shifted
position with her, and held her hips as he drove hard into her. With his
thumbs against her back his fingers nearly met across her belly; reminding
him forefully that she was such a little thing, but at the same time every
movement, and every word she spoke made him aware of the strength of
her... both in her body and her mind. He ached again to meld her
uniqueness with his own; what a child they could create together! But he
knew he couldn't ask her that, he didn't think she could knowingly give
him that much of herself, and he was no longer a being who could just
steal a life from her without her knowledge.
"More!" she hissed again, and he abandoned thought and self
control, pulling her back hard into each thrust, as if trying to gauge the
depths of her. She pushed back, willingly abetting his plunges, her hands
savaging the soft furs that covered the bed, arching and purring like a
cat. Taking his cue from that image, he nipped at her shoulders and the
back of her neck hard enough that she could feel his teeth, but not so
hard it would hurt. She stiffened beneath him, and he felt a shudder run
through her, then she slowly relaxed down onto the bed, gasping. He was
drawn down with her, and he gentled his movements, kissing her where he'd
nipped before. She sighed, shifting beneath him to give him easier
access.
"My god, Fionn," she said huskily. "You're something else..."
"I've had a lot of practice," he said, grinning.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not nice to brag?"
"I wasn't bragging, I was explaining."
"Oh, is that what it was?"
"Aye," he turned onto his side, taking her with him, and slipped
an arm beneath her uppermost thigh so she was open to his fingers. She
gasped and whimpered, hips bucking against his hand as he began to stroke
her.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, just to be sure.
"No!" she managed.
He grinned and closed his mouth over the sensitive spot where neck
and shoulder meet, sucking gently. He felt her response deep inside,
where she held his body in hers. He did it again, and again she
tightened, her reaction immediate and unmistakable. He kissed her jaw,
and curled around her, working to pleasure her with lips, fingers, cock.
It took only a moment or two before he triggered her release again, and
the feel of her pleasure provoked his own. He let the pleasure roll over
him in pulsing waves with a moan. After a while she sagged, bonelessly,
and he eased her back down onto her belly as he withdrew. He felt utterly
relaxed himself, and he put an arm around her as he stretched out next to
her, half asleep already.
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