Bruises So Blue Ch. 06

"Really," he said, smiling and holding his hand out to her. "It's okay. No one ever comes here. We're completely safe."

She took his hand carefully, a gesture she had been getting used to. Holding his hand felt strange every time, but less because his darker skinned fingers and palm outsized her by several times and more because she liked the warmth of his grip on her.

The taller, darker elf drew her towards him down the grassy shore of the lake they were standing by. She had realized a few days ago that he had brought her to a special oasis on the northernmost edge of one of the three known continents that made up their world. This particular glade was supposed to be a haven for all, and had been named after the moon or some moon goddess or something. She'd never enjoyed her time here in the past but now appreciated its solitude and discretion. She would hate it if her kin saw her relying so heavily on someone from a race she professed to despise. She'd hate it even more if they could see how easily he made her smile.

Shyly she looked at him, trying not to let the corners of her mouth tilt up in pleasure as he brought her closer. She wondered if he knew what was happening between them, if it were something he had planned and intended and hoped for all along. Did he have any innocence in him, this enemy rogue? As she drew closer to him, wearing the fur lined garments he had brought to her, she could feel the power of his presence and feel herself succumbing to the beauty of the darkly wooded glade around them.

He may have meant only to show her the lake itself and share with her a special quiet moment. Or maybe he thought she stank and he wanted to give her a real chance to bathe, rather than having her rely always on the big wooden half-barrel tub he'd put outside his little hovel. She let him pull her closer, until their bodies were touching, and looked up into his startled eyes.

No, she realized. He had hoped maybe. And he had probably subtly planned. But he had never imagined he would hold her like this. Not after what she had recently endured.

The elven woman put a pale hand up against his cheek, staring at the contrast in colours. His skin was a shade of grey. Her own was pure alabaster white. His skin was rough and almost weathered. Hers remained forever petal soft and smooth as a pearl. One of her fingers touched his lips, teasing over them. She could feel the power of his stare and now, his rising hunger. With great care she put her other hand against his face and cradled him, holding his cheeks. Then she lifted her green gaze to look into his eyes.

For long moments, they stared into each other, breathless as he held her close, as she traced his mouth with her fingertips. Her eyes were locked to his, daring him to do something, anything. He silently refused, making no move to harm her, no attempt to destroy her. She could feel the muscle of his bare chest against her tunic as he continued to keep her close. But never was he holding her so tightly that she could not slip away. That's how his care had been over the last while. He did everything for her, did more for her once she began to speak and to ask for things. He filled the tub for her every day, with no complaint. He left her when she felt the tears of anguish welling up in her eyes. And he was always near when the bad dreams came.

She knew they would end soon, the agonies and dreams. She was tough, she had a whole guild of people who were probably scouring the world looking for her, desperate to have her leadership and guidance and friendship back. That alone would give her the internal fortitude to survive through what had happened.

But it might take something else to make the dreams go away.

Before this moment, she had shuddered to think of returning to her lifestyle, one full of suitors and intimate friends. Political alliances often sealed with kisses or more. The very thought of her own husband touching her, trying to kiss or hold or caress her, had made her nauseous. He was worth everything, but the revolting memories of her double rape and humiliation were still so prevalent. They needed a different kind of cure than just friendship and devoted clan mates would provide.

The pale haired elf woman raised herself up onto her toes, feeling his hands at her waist and around the small of her back coming up with her, supporting her. She slipped her hands around his head, her fingers lost in his pale white hair. Then she was kissing him.

It was something she had never thought she would do. Never planned on. She'd entertained little fantasies of his wickedness, simply because she had such interesting appetites and could find even the most evil and vile of beings attractive. But never had she pictured it like this.

He kept his hands behind her, holding her gently to him. His lips were warm and inviting, but not insistent. The kiss deepened, slowly, and it was she who put her tongue slowly into his mouth, gliding like a ghost in a dream and sliding against his own. When he moaned, the spell could have been broken if the sound didn't give her such a shiver of pleasure and delight. She put her arms around his neck, holding herself up, and felt him crouch his body slightly as he picked her up off the ground. One of his hands scooped behind her legs, pulling them out from under her as he moved to lay her on the grass. Their lips never parted, not until she felt the cool wet earth of the lake's shore behind her hair.

He looked down at her, hovering carefully and closely to her face. His eyes were full of concern.

"What are you doing, woman," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "What I want," was all she could respond. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

She nodded. She was very sure. Her response seemed to give him pause and he chewed his lip with worry. But before he could decide for both of them that it was either too soon or not right or not meant to be at all, she was pulling him by the hair closer to her.

With her fingers tangled in his snowy white tresses, she forced him to meet her mouth again, harder this time. And this time, he returned the kiss with a fire that almost outdid her own. She could feel his joy now, feel how very long he had been waiting for this exact moment. His whole body was shaking as she lay beneath him. And it made her smile. Confidently.

She hadn't felt this confidence in so very long.

Looking up at him, she felt the familiar hunger rising in her guts and overtaking her. She reached to her stomach and grabbed the hem of the crudely made shirt, pulling it over her head. His eyes went wide as he looked away from her face for the first time, to glance down at her naked breasts.

That was when she rolled under his arm and away from him. Off to one side, she smiled and unfastened the short cut pants he had given her, kicking them away. She stood there naked for but a moment, then made her way into the warm water. And she let the healing begin.

The natural buoyancy the water gave her made her feel so good, so cherished and alive. She swam under the ripples and waves, then came up, staring at the sky so very far away.

She could feel the changes inside her soul, the new scars and wounds she carried. They might never heal. They didn't have to hinder though, nor did they have to change who she was. She went to her feet and stood up, then turned to look at him.

He was exactly where she had left him, laying half on his side on the shore. His mouth was open as he looked at her. She swam towards him and slowly came out of the water, knowing he was enthralled by every step she took, by every droplet of water that slid down her almost perfect and mostly unmarred skin.

"I feel better," she whispered, going to her knees before him. "I can tell."

He gulped and the gesture made her feel such warmth. She was affecting him in the same way she affected all men. It was good to note that she could seduce a man of his race, if she so wished, she told herself. But she didn't want to do any seduction today. This day, it had to be something else.

"Thank you for saving me," she whispered, gulping as a very real lump came into her throat. "You were only in danger because you came to me. You never should have." "Yes, I should have. I had to."

She crawled to him, until she was next to him, cupping his face again in both her hands.

"I should have come, a long time ago."

Then she was kissing him again, and his arms were sweeping around her and holding her close, easily drawing her over and then under him. His mouth moved against hers, then fell to her neck, kissing along her wet skin til he was at her shoulder.

"My gods," he whispered, looking down at her for a moment. "You are a vision, so very beautiful to me."

The elven woman couldn't help it. She blushed. Her face became warm as he stared down at her. He moved to the side so his eyes could take in all of her faultless form, then he lifted a hand and put it to her chest. His fingers moved between her round breasts, and her chest rose up and down as she watched his eyes. Such wonderment filled his gaze as he put a single breast in his palm and rolled it gently beneath his grip.

"My skin is so very dark over yours," he whispered, as if stunned. "And your hand is so big."

He looked at her then, his eyes squinting almost as he stared. She forced herself to push on.

"Is it just your hands that are big?"

He swallowed again and seemed to shake his head at her.

"My lady, you have no idea what you're saying to me." "I really do," she whispered back, putting her hand over his and sliding it slowly down her belly. "I really do."

His mouth dipped to kiss her then, his lips grazing across one of her dark nipples. His fingers cupped her naked mons gently, as if he were afraid to touch her too much. She had expected he might feel that, after what he had witnessed her going through. She moved her legs apart and guided his long thick digits into her folds, letting him feel the wetness and excitement there. And she moaned as he moved his mouth to her other breast, his lips and tongue teasing at the erect nipple there. His fingers were dancing over her clit now, expertly. She was not bruised, she knew. She had checked just this morning, not in anticipation of this moment but out of pure vanity. And she had been pleased to see that whatever damage had once been done had now healed.

"Please," she whispered to him, her voice almost pleading in its tone.

He left his head, staring at her, hardly breathing.

"What are you asking of me?" "You know..." "I can't. I shouldn't." "But you want to."

She drew his hand away from her sex, keeping her eyes locked to his as she opened her mouth, suckling the moist fingertips, tasting her own excitement there. He was breathing now, very hard. When she released his hand, he moved it to his waist, slowly undoing his pants.

"I need you to want to," she said softly. "Because I need to know someone else wants to. Anyone. Because..."

He nodded, undoing his leggings and raising himself up to take them off.

"Because you want to know you are still beautiful, still valuable. Not dirty, not used and worthless."

She nodded, surprising herself as tears came to her eyes. He moved himself between her thighs and she could feel the startling length of his cock all the way up her belly.

"You want to know how very precious you are," he spoke to her, holding her face with one hand and stroking her hair. "You want to feel beautiful, and alive, and know that you are still desired. Still rare in all your special ways."

She sniffled, her eyes glistening with tears that sped away down her temples to become lost in her platinum crown of hair. He chased one with his fingertips, then put his hand next to her head, on the ground. He lifted himself up and carefully guided the thick head of his member against her swollen privacy.

"You...are so very precious. A true rare pearl," he said tenderly, his eyes locked onto hers.

She knew why he was hesitating. He was bigger than the paladin scum she had been tortured by, bigger than other elves she had known. She took a breath and steeled her courage, parting her thighs more and lifting her hips up, slowly drawing the thickest part of him inside.

"Show me," her quivering voice begged. And he did.

Slowly, carefully, he moved his lips to her mouth, barely brushing against her as he entered her. She closed her eyes tightly, grateful that there was little pain from her previous experience. Only the expected stretching of her sex to accommodate his girth. He was cautious, he was kind, moving into her only an inch at a time. His kiss remained ever present as he warily entered her, daring to moan only occasionally as he felt himself filling her and more. Somehow, he managed to bury himself completely inside her, right to the hilt. She struggled to breathe evenly but did not pull away.

When she opened her eyes, it was to look up into his. He pushed her arms above her head so he could put his elbows to the earth and touch her face. And he stroked her hair, her skin, her cheeks with the backs of his fingers.

"I waited for this, for so long," he confessed. "I know." "You never wanted this." "I never did." "But here we are..."

She gulped, feeling him throbbing inside her privacy, amazed herself that he had somehow fit.

"I ought to feel so in control right now," he said, "I ought to feel like the one with the power."

As if to show her what he meant, he thrust his hips slightly, causing her to wince as familiar and exciting jolts of pleasure ran up and down her nerves.

"So why do I feel suddenly like you own me?"

She calmed her breathing and forced herself to stare at him, forced herself to feel what she felt each time a man had entered her with her consent.

"Because I do."

She lifted her small slender hands up to his face and drew him into yet another deep and enduring kiss as her hips rose up and then down. He matched her rhythm, his mouth glued to hers. As their bodies began to rise and fall in concert, their hips pushing and lifting and pressing together, they both felt the power of their shared fire. Unable to breathe, they had to stop kissing, but still their lips remained ever so close. Both whispered things, insane impossible and intense things that could never happen, endings to this episode that could never be. But for the moment, each believed in the passion and let the impossible slide away.

Soon, both were crying out in fevered bliss. She could feel him at the base of her womb, about to burst beyond where a man is allowed to be in a woman. And she felt her body craving him, her nails tearing at his backside, cupping his ass and digging in. She came hard and felt him return the favour, felt his expanding cock inside her, exploding seed that gushed up into her womb and sloshed around without care for consequence. Tomorrow seemed so far away as they tore through this one rare moment and cast themselves into the next.

Exhausted, he fell onto of her, then vainly tried to roll onto his back with her, to keep her from being crushed. She wanted to cling to him but could barely breathe and had to release him. His long thick member slid out of her sex and bumped wetly against her leg as he drew away, taking forever as it slid a slick trail across her thigh. Then at last they were apart.

Each lay on the grassy shore, panting and shivering. Minutes passed as they stared at the sky. Then, carefully, her hand reached out to touch him, only to find his own already seeking her. As their fingers entwined, they rolled yet again towards each other. His lips met hers and she felt him hungrily devouring her mouth as her free hand slid down his body to find his cock already half hard. She stroked him regardless until he was erect, then drew him against her once more.

They fucked for days, it felt like. She stopped counting after three. They only stopped in the end because the food ran out. He unwillingly left the small cot one morning to find a city and something solid for them to eat, because they'd been reduced to broth and old wine that made their heads ache. When he took too long to return, she sighed and got dressed with the clothes he had salvaged from her captors and had repaired.

She washed herself and brushed her hair as best she could, using a man's comb. Then she packed her bags and threw them over her shoulders, leaving the little house in the glade and walking away to find her way to her real home. To her people.

As she walked, she could feel his eyes on her. He hadn't gone for food. He had probably meant to. Maybe he was about to return home when he saw her leaving. Which of them had made the move? They would never know, perhaps. Maybe it was both.

A confident smile played on her lips as she walked, knowing he followed her all the way to the small outpost and the flight master there. As she climbed gingerly onto the griffon's back and sat saddled just before the great wings, she paused and looked around her. In one of the bushes nearby, she knew he was watching, waiting for her to safely leave the glade unharmed.

It was unlikely they would ever talk again. Maybe she would see him one day, strolling through the streets of one of the few neutral cities they both could visit without attack. She would not acknowledge him, not at first. But she knew that once her kin had passed him by, unaware of who had saved her that night so long ago, she herself would find some excuse to pause. She would glance at him over her shoulder, over the thin strap of a black or golden threaded dress. And she would smile.

Wantonly. Hungrily. Or maybe, just maybe, gratefully.