I've been needing to write something new for a while now, and I love writing fantasy. So here's my first shot at an original story since 'Conquering the River Lord.' The series will be called "Warriors of Arborea," provided I get past this first chapter.
Incidentally, Sinradhe's name is pronounced "shin-wraith."
~*~
Warriors of Arborea, Part 1: The Paladin And The Priest
The chapterhouse of Deiarch was rarely ever quiet. Home to the Paladins of Straavos, Dragon-God of courage and valor, there were almost always the sounds of combat training during the day, or merrymaking at night; unlike other, stricter deities, Straavos encouraged his followers to never flinch from battle when the occasion called for it, but enjoy life as they could during peacetime, and do their best to ensure that others could do the same.
Tonight, though, the walls of Deiarch echoed with the lone footfalls of but a single knight sworn to His service. The majority of his brothers had been called upon by the Church to assist with a campaign somewhere in the east, leaving only a handful of them at the fort to train the recruits and novices and keep their home safe.
With so few brothers left, discipline had relaxed slightly. While the Paladins of the Dragon-God were famous throughout the kingdom for their shining, ornate armor, and most of the brothers were obliged by tradition to wear it when they did certain tasks like patrol the chapterhouse on nightly rounds, it was by no means an enforced doctrine, and the option did exist to wear civilian clothes instead.
Sir Sinradhe Kal'Drakonas had decided to eschew his armor this evening, but neither did he wear his simple linen clothes either. Aside from his ever-present sword-belt, and a pair of leather boots to protect his feet from the cold stone floor of the hallways, Sir Sinradhe was completely naked, enjoying the feel of the night air on his skin as he walked the halls.
The moonlight gleamed off his sweating, muscular body (it was unseasonably hot tonight, as it had been for the last week), and a breeze wafted in through the windows, ruffling his shoulder-length, jet-black hair even as it cooled his body down from the seemingly never-ending heat wave. The breeze seemed to blow especially pleasantly on Sir Sinradhe's nether-regions, stirring the wiry black hair as it teased the sword between his legs into full arousal. He would have to take care of that when his vigil was ended.
It was customary to begin and end the patrols with a prayer to Straavos at the main altar, and this at least was a custom Sinradhe always followed to the letter. However, at the end of his patrol, when he reached the statue of the proud, noble dragon coiled around a greatsword, he heard a man's voice, speaking softly in quiet prayer, and ducked back into the hallway quickly, looking furtively around the corner to discern the identity of the devout brother.
He was no knight, that much was easy to see at first glance. The other man wore the black, purple, and gold robes of a priest of Straavos, the colors arranged in the pattern denominating him as a fully-ordained monk, but not a bishop or patriarch. Sinradhe relaxed a bit...he would be able to approach this fellow as an equal, rather than humble himself to a superior or assume an air of authority before a subordinate. He loved his life at Deiarch, but hated the division of classes between the knighthood and the Church, and the endless formalities that those divisions entailed.
The insecurity of class gone, Sinradhe looked the priest up and down more fully. Barely into his twenties, the man seemed...a good decade younger than Sinradhe, but already a fine figure of a man. He had a lean build, from what the paladin could see beneath the robe, his fair skin contrasting sharply with the shock of red hair atop his head. When he looked at the young priest's eyes, Sinradhe was astonished at how green they were, how they shone with devotion in the sight of his God.
Seemingly unconscious of his flagrant nudity, Sinradhe strolled casually in, his boots barely audible on the stone floor compared with the constant clinking and jangling of the Paladins' normal full plate armor. Kneeling beside the monk, before the statue of his God, the knight took the cross-handles of Straavos's greatsword's hilt in either hand, leaned forward, and kissed the weapon's fist-sized pommel...the ultimate gesture of fealty to the Dragon-God. Turning as he finished his supplication, he saw the priest's handsome, youthful face blush several shades of crimson.
"Something troubles you, brother?" he asked with a slightly wry smile. Here in the main chapel, the moonlight shone through stained-glass windows and broke into a thousand fragments of pastel, rainbow-colored light. Materializing out of nowhere in this light as he had, Sinradhe must have seemed to be an angel of Straavos come to life...until, he thought with a chuckle, the poor initiate had gotten a glimpse of the tool between his legs.
The poor man seemed to want to bolt out of the hall like a frightened rabbit...except for the obvious swelling in the front of his robes. Probably the reason he hasn't gotten up off his knees and fled, Sinradhe thought. So, I am having an effect on you, brother Priest. Good...I may not have to spend the night alone after all.
The young man was trying valiantly to stammer out a reply. "N-nothing, Sir Knight. I had j-just finished prayer for the evening...I was on my way back t-to bed..."
Sir Sinradhe rose from his kneeling position and stood before the priest in all his glory, his strong grey eyes meeting the priest's own and locking him in place with his gaze. "I think you should stay and tell me your name," he said, his voice quiet but uncompromising, commanding in his very presence.
The priest shook like a leaf as he faced the paladin. “B-Brother Ladon, Sir Knight…”
“Brother Ladon.” Sinradhe nodded. “And how long have you been in service to our Dragon-God?”
“F-four years,” the younger man managed to get out. “I’ve only just been promoted from my novitiate.”
“I see. Given your newness to the cloth, I suppose I sympathize...but I must ask you, Brother Ladon, what you think our God, ever courageous and true, would think of one of his clergy quailing in fear at something so simple as the sight of a naked man?”
Ladon swallowed hard. “Forgive me, Sir Knight...it’s just...I don’t...”
“You must learn to confront the unexpected wherever it finds you, Ladon. To be adaptable, deal with situations as they occur, that is as much a part of courage as being fearless in combat.”
He walked ever closer to the kneeling priest, his movements slow and deliberate. By the time he stopped, he was sure Ladon could smell his musk on the night air...the tip of his shaft was swollen red with his arousal and barely a foot away from Ladon's wide green eyes. Sinradhe saw the younger man's hands smooth the front of his robes nervously, lingering slightly longer than was strictly necessary over a part of him most priests pretended to be unaware of, or else deny the urges of.
Because they're afraid. But your fear is the enemy here, not me, my handsome young friend. If you're going to make a decision, you need to do it, because I'm not going anywhere.
He leaned in close and whispered in Ladon's ear. "I can see you, you know. You're as aroused as I am, and I know exactly what you want. All you have to do is reach out...and take it."
Seemingly independent of his own will, Ladon's hand reached for Sinradhe's proud, jutting member, as his other went to unclasp his robes and led them pool around his pale. youthful flesh. The decision had been made, and Sinradhe felt exultation and pride well up in him.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Conquering The River Lord
New fiction new fiction new fiction!!! About time!
OK...not so much "new" as "stuff I haven't uploaded here yet," but still, I'm proud of myself. This blog isn't dead!
This one's my only stab at a totally original story so far...I have others I'm working on, but as hectic as my life gets (and being on a shared computer doesn't help), inspiration takes its sweet time to hit me with a 2x4 and MAKE me write.
Anyway, this one's pretty self-explanatory: a river spirit (who just happens to look like a sexy bald stud) needs to keep his water flowing. ^_^ Porns ensue.
I may continue this if I get enough feedback...
~*~
The River Lord felt, rather than heard, the first man beneath him cry out as his body convulsed one last time in ecstasy before going still. He felt pride swell in his breast as his loins pumped the his viscous seed into the willing entrance of the second. The third, he hadn’t even had to touch; watching a demigod bring two men under sexual submission had been more than enough to bring him to a shuddering climax, his manhood spasming and throbbing in his hand as he screamed soundlessly in the river’s cool, cerulean depths. After this, the River Lord thought with triumph, the three surface-dwelling chauvinists would never even lay eyes on another female.
As the humans floated to the river’s surface, gasping for breath, the River Lord was already gone, his essence merging with the stream to travel to another shore with another willing set of adventurers who’d heard the legends of the water-spirit, the master seducer who gave men the best sex of their lives before washing them ashore.
The truth was, he didn’t just crave sex, in the way mortals did. He needed it to survive. The flow of his river was dependent on the flow of his seed, and most of those who depended on the river to survive knew it.
There were some small villages on the banks who were skeptical of his nature. They were used to sending sacrifices to the Goddess of Water, slaughtering cattle and livestock needlessly to appease some aloof ice-queen of a deity. The fools. Thank the tides for the lovers in the village, who believed the riverside a wonderful place to have private trysts. No coincidence, that…there were times when the River Lord would take the form of a surfaceman and casually bring some young man to any of a hundred private places, concealed by trees and bushes, where he would tell the youth legends of the River Lord’s insatiable lust until his victim found himself naked and at his complete mercy. Depending on the nature of the man, he might reveal himself then, as he had with these three tale-chasers, and lead them into the waters themselves for an offering. Or he would simply continue to share tales while the boy pumped himself to a frantic, screaming climax, and make his offering that way.
It mattered not to the River Lord what happened to the seed of the males he seduced…just so long as their passions were given up to him, that was all that mattered.
And now, such passions were about to be shared anew. Travelling down the stream of his river, the Lord came to one of many pools where his waters would collect and be warmed by the sun, until they evaporated and went to join the rest of the river in its timeless, endless flow. Lying fast asleep in this pool was an irresistible lure…a muscular Garnet Elf, reddish-tan of skin and midnight black of hair, his body rippling in the dappled sunlight. Garnets, he knew, were more muscular than most breeds of elf, and were renowned for their empathic powers…not to mention their sexual stamina. A Garnet male could sexually satisfy a dozen humans before needing so much as a rest stop. They so loved what they did that their race would often leave the confines of their tropical island home in search of new and exciting sexual adventures, as much as for the traditional reasons mortals had for their escapades.
This one was a particularly fine specimen. Like most Garnet men, he had a fine sprinkling of black hair on his body, and a lustrous sheen to his reddish skin. He had the build of a natural-born swimmer, lean and defined, and when he stood to wash himself, the River Lord admired the spherical, muscular sculpt of his ass, dripping with his waters.
This was a prospect far too tempting to pass up. The River Lord assumed his human form, choosing not to bother with creating illusory garments this time, and hid in the shallows.
He saw the Garnet look up briefly, but remained hidden, camouflaging himself with his surroundings…he was a spirit of water, after all. When the muscular Elf seemed satisfied that he was alone, he returned to his bathing…though the River Lord noticed something different about the way he washed his body now.
Where before his scrubbing had been brisk and businesslike, now his movements were decidedly slower, and more graceful. His hands caressed his compact, tight muscles with every pass of the cloth, and when he rinsed himself, it would be a gradual process of pouring the water down every crevice and sculpted line of definition his body possessed.
As the River Lord watched, the elf crossed into a deeper part of the pool and let his nude body float, his manhood bobbing to the surface like the mast of some great ship risen from the deep. The River Lord had to suppress a groan of desire at the sight…it was an impressive endowment, swollen and red, perfectly shaped and nestled in a patch of glistening, blue-black pubic hair, with round, heavy balls bobbing behind it in the pool. As he watched, the Garnet Elf ran his hands over his body with groans of amorous pleasure, then wrapped a lean, strong hand around the base of the shaft and looked directly at him, his deep, honey-brown eyes softening in wordless invitation.
For a second, the immortal cursed. How could he have been spotted?! Then, he remembered the Garnet gift of empathy, and smiled ruefully to himself. Of course. After a moment’s thought, he realized that the mortal was in the right; this offering would be much more enjoyable if he participated.
Becoming visible to the Garnet’s eyes, the River Lord displayed himself proudly from the shallows. His skin was a dark silver-tan, with a grainy cast to it, like sparkling sand at the bottom of a riverbed. He was completely bald, the only hair he sported on his body a thatch of glittering silver pubic hair nestled at the base of his own considerable endowment. His balls rested on the surface of the water, thick and heavy with pent-up seed…even though it hadn’t yet been an hour since he’d come last, he was always thirsty for more sex, and always ready to bring his partners to the orgasms he craved.
The River Lord swam to the Garnet’s side and embraced him in his own powerful arms, kissing him hotly, passionately. The Garnet’s skin was smooth and hot, while the River Lord seemed to be made of solid water, hard and unyielding as ice, but radiating the warmth of a hot spring. Steam began to coalesce around them as they kissed…not enough to burn the mortal’s flesh, but enough to heighten his senses and overwhelm him with the torrid humidity of their encounter.
The River Lord rose up in the water until his flagpole erection was level with the Garnet’s mouth, and the red-skinned male engulfed it, bathing it with his tongue as slowly and expertly as he had bathed his own body. The River Lord closed his eyes and let out a groan of ecstasy, his voice low and sensual as it sent a thrill of ecstasy through the Garnet’s body. For his part, the Elf displayed his people’s amazing carnal skills by swallowing the River Lord’s impressive mast all the way to the hilt, with a little freedom of movement left to run his tongue lovingly over the silver-furred balls.
The River Lord had been saving this load for a special occasion…normally when he wasn’t coaxing offerings of lust out of some unwitting male, he was masturbating, using his hands to bring forth his seed and perpetuate the river’s flow with his own power, again and again, without more than a few moments’ letup. But for the last hour, this being of perpetual lust and gratification had not so much as touched his cock…for a River Lord, a gesture of supreme willpower.
But even his willpower had its limits. With a grunt of ecstasy, he shot into the warm, willing mouth, his seed tasting like the purest waterfall as it flowed down the Elf’s throat. The raven-haired mortal gave out a moan of appreciation and gulped it down, unwilling to let even the smallest drop go to waste.
Once he let go of the River Lord’s cock, he swam naked to the shallows and lay down in them, spreading his legs wide as he eyed the River Lord wordlessly. His wonderfully formed ass was in the air, being lightly caressed by the pool’s waves…and then the pool’s waves became the River Lord’s tongue, penetrating his entrance with a wonderfully wet, hot pressure, rimming him with an experience born of centuries of seduction. He thrashed and squirmed and splashed under the torturously pleasurable onslaught, his cock burning with need and rampantly hard as he started to pump it furiously, his rising tide of lust a greater offering than the River Lord had experienced in millennia. No longer merely sustaining himself on the lust of the mortal, the water-spirit found himself partaking in it, letting it fuel his own desires in a way that no mortal physicality ever had before. It was in the heat of that moment the River Lord realized he had found a lover in this hot-blooded mortal, not just another giver of offerings..
When his passion reached the point of no return a second time, the River Lord positioned himself at the Elf’s entrance and let loose a second torrent of silver seed, splattering his opening with enough divine semen to lubricate the passage and turn their encounter into an act of pure pleasure. Still panting from his release, the River Lord positioned his still-hard manhood at the moaning Elf’s opening, looking into his eyes in a wordless request for permission…something the spirit had never felt the need to do before.
The elf looked up at him with those warm, dark eyes, and nodded with a salacious smile. Closing his own eyes, the River Lord began to penetrate his lover with agonizing slowness, pushing the pucker of flesh open with infinite care, where with his offerings he’d simply punched through mercilessly, using his magic to drive them so insane with lust that they didn’t care if they were ripped apart or not.
Not so with the Garnet elf. His body was the River Lord’s own temple, more precious to him than the flow of his current, inciting hotter passion than he’d ever felt in his life. The children of the Gods never fell in love, but the River Lord felt he was as close as an immortal being would ever come. He pumped, slowly and with infinite care, in and out of the Garnet’s tight, willing hole, steam swirling about them as they both broke out in a sweat from the heat of their union. The Garnet’s stiff, hard maleness jutted against his muscular belly, and the River Lord repositioned himself so that it glided between them, lubed by the precome the crimson shaft was secreting by the ounce.
The Garnet grunted at the pleasure from both sides of his body, and urged his spirit-lover for more. Harder, faster, he cried, until the River Lord finally complied and began unleashing the full might of his sexual prowess upon the desperate man. Their racing heartbeats were a primal drumming to which they set their pace, the steam from their union coalescing into a full-fledged fog, hot as a sauna but thick as a fall morning. Their cries grew more strident and urgent by the minute as their shared lust and passion spiraled to a crescendo.
When the River Lord came for the third time, he screamed in ecstasy as his manhood shot its load deep inside the Garnet’s willing opening. Trapped between their bodies as it was, the Garnet’s own red member spasmed and shot, drenching their chests and faces with rich, spicy seed that the River Lord found he couldn’t get enough of. They came together in the steam like that, both men crying out in ecstasy as their bodies gyrated beyond all control, for nearly a minute…longer than the River Lord had ever come in his immortal life, and certainly more pleasure than the Garnet had ever experienced.
After a moment that both beings needed to take to recover themselves, the River Lord rose to the Garnet’s side and kissed him again. Where his first kiss had been demanding, strident, and intended to incite lust, this one became passionate, needful, and an expression of a feeling most immortal folk were incapable of.
Finally, the River Lord rolled onto his hands and knees in the sand, and with a look back to his lover, raised his perfect, tan ass into the air.
~FIN~
OK...not so much "new" as "stuff I haven't uploaded here yet," but still, I'm proud of myself. This blog isn't dead!
This one's my only stab at a totally original story so far...I have others I'm working on, but as hectic as my life gets (and being on a shared computer doesn't help), inspiration takes its sweet time to hit me with a 2x4 and MAKE me write.
Anyway, this one's pretty self-explanatory: a river spirit (who just happens to look like a sexy bald stud) needs to keep his water flowing. ^_^ Porns ensue.
I may continue this if I get enough feedback...
~*~
The River Lord felt, rather than heard, the first man beneath him cry out as his body convulsed one last time in ecstasy before going still. He felt pride swell in his breast as his loins pumped the his viscous seed into the willing entrance of the second. The third, he hadn’t even had to touch; watching a demigod bring two men under sexual submission had been more than enough to bring him to a shuddering climax, his manhood spasming and throbbing in his hand as he screamed soundlessly in the river’s cool, cerulean depths. After this, the River Lord thought with triumph, the three surface-dwelling chauvinists would never even lay eyes on another female.
As the humans floated to the river’s surface, gasping for breath, the River Lord was already gone, his essence merging with the stream to travel to another shore with another willing set of adventurers who’d heard the legends of the water-spirit, the master seducer who gave men the best sex of their lives before washing them ashore.
The truth was, he didn’t just crave sex, in the way mortals did. He needed it to survive. The flow of his river was dependent on the flow of his seed, and most of those who depended on the river to survive knew it.
There were some small villages on the banks who were skeptical of his nature. They were used to sending sacrifices to the Goddess of Water, slaughtering cattle and livestock needlessly to appease some aloof ice-queen of a deity. The fools. Thank the tides for the lovers in the village, who believed the riverside a wonderful place to have private trysts. No coincidence, that…there were times when the River Lord would take the form of a surfaceman and casually bring some young man to any of a hundred private places, concealed by trees and bushes, where he would tell the youth legends of the River Lord’s insatiable lust until his victim found himself naked and at his complete mercy. Depending on the nature of the man, he might reveal himself then, as he had with these three tale-chasers, and lead them into the waters themselves for an offering. Or he would simply continue to share tales while the boy pumped himself to a frantic, screaming climax, and make his offering that way.
It mattered not to the River Lord what happened to the seed of the males he seduced…just so long as their passions were given up to him, that was all that mattered.
And now, such passions were about to be shared anew. Travelling down the stream of his river, the Lord came to one of many pools where his waters would collect and be warmed by the sun, until they evaporated and went to join the rest of the river in its timeless, endless flow. Lying fast asleep in this pool was an irresistible lure…a muscular Garnet Elf, reddish-tan of skin and midnight black of hair, his body rippling in the dappled sunlight. Garnets, he knew, were more muscular than most breeds of elf, and were renowned for their empathic powers…not to mention their sexual stamina. A Garnet male could sexually satisfy a dozen humans before needing so much as a rest stop. They so loved what they did that their race would often leave the confines of their tropical island home in search of new and exciting sexual adventures, as much as for the traditional reasons mortals had for their escapades.
This one was a particularly fine specimen. Like most Garnet men, he had a fine sprinkling of black hair on his body, and a lustrous sheen to his reddish skin. He had the build of a natural-born swimmer, lean and defined, and when he stood to wash himself, the River Lord admired the spherical, muscular sculpt of his ass, dripping with his waters.
This was a prospect far too tempting to pass up. The River Lord assumed his human form, choosing not to bother with creating illusory garments this time, and hid in the shallows.
He saw the Garnet look up briefly, but remained hidden, camouflaging himself with his surroundings…he was a spirit of water, after all. When the muscular Elf seemed satisfied that he was alone, he returned to his bathing…though the River Lord noticed something different about the way he washed his body now.
Where before his scrubbing had been brisk and businesslike, now his movements were decidedly slower, and more graceful. His hands caressed his compact, tight muscles with every pass of the cloth, and when he rinsed himself, it would be a gradual process of pouring the water down every crevice and sculpted line of definition his body possessed.
As the River Lord watched, the elf crossed into a deeper part of the pool and let his nude body float, his manhood bobbing to the surface like the mast of some great ship risen from the deep. The River Lord had to suppress a groan of desire at the sight…it was an impressive endowment, swollen and red, perfectly shaped and nestled in a patch of glistening, blue-black pubic hair, with round, heavy balls bobbing behind it in the pool. As he watched, the Garnet Elf ran his hands over his body with groans of amorous pleasure, then wrapped a lean, strong hand around the base of the shaft and looked directly at him, his deep, honey-brown eyes softening in wordless invitation.
For a second, the immortal cursed. How could he have been spotted?! Then, he remembered the Garnet gift of empathy, and smiled ruefully to himself. Of course. After a moment’s thought, he realized that the mortal was in the right; this offering would be much more enjoyable if he participated.
Becoming visible to the Garnet’s eyes, the River Lord displayed himself proudly from the shallows. His skin was a dark silver-tan, with a grainy cast to it, like sparkling sand at the bottom of a riverbed. He was completely bald, the only hair he sported on his body a thatch of glittering silver pubic hair nestled at the base of his own considerable endowment. His balls rested on the surface of the water, thick and heavy with pent-up seed…even though it hadn’t yet been an hour since he’d come last, he was always thirsty for more sex, and always ready to bring his partners to the orgasms he craved.
The River Lord swam to the Garnet’s side and embraced him in his own powerful arms, kissing him hotly, passionately. The Garnet’s skin was smooth and hot, while the River Lord seemed to be made of solid water, hard and unyielding as ice, but radiating the warmth of a hot spring. Steam began to coalesce around them as they kissed…not enough to burn the mortal’s flesh, but enough to heighten his senses and overwhelm him with the torrid humidity of their encounter.
The River Lord rose up in the water until his flagpole erection was level with the Garnet’s mouth, and the red-skinned male engulfed it, bathing it with his tongue as slowly and expertly as he had bathed his own body. The River Lord closed his eyes and let out a groan of ecstasy, his voice low and sensual as it sent a thrill of ecstasy through the Garnet’s body. For his part, the Elf displayed his people’s amazing carnal skills by swallowing the River Lord’s impressive mast all the way to the hilt, with a little freedom of movement left to run his tongue lovingly over the silver-furred balls.
The River Lord had been saving this load for a special occasion…normally when he wasn’t coaxing offerings of lust out of some unwitting male, he was masturbating, using his hands to bring forth his seed and perpetuate the river’s flow with his own power, again and again, without more than a few moments’ letup. But for the last hour, this being of perpetual lust and gratification had not so much as touched his cock…for a River Lord, a gesture of supreme willpower.
But even his willpower had its limits. With a grunt of ecstasy, he shot into the warm, willing mouth, his seed tasting like the purest waterfall as it flowed down the Elf’s throat. The raven-haired mortal gave out a moan of appreciation and gulped it down, unwilling to let even the smallest drop go to waste.
Once he let go of the River Lord’s cock, he swam naked to the shallows and lay down in them, spreading his legs wide as he eyed the River Lord wordlessly. His wonderfully formed ass was in the air, being lightly caressed by the pool’s waves…and then the pool’s waves became the River Lord’s tongue, penetrating his entrance with a wonderfully wet, hot pressure, rimming him with an experience born of centuries of seduction. He thrashed and squirmed and splashed under the torturously pleasurable onslaught, his cock burning with need and rampantly hard as he started to pump it furiously, his rising tide of lust a greater offering than the River Lord had experienced in millennia. No longer merely sustaining himself on the lust of the mortal, the water-spirit found himself partaking in it, letting it fuel his own desires in a way that no mortal physicality ever had before. It was in the heat of that moment the River Lord realized he had found a lover in this hot-blooded mortal, not just another giver of offerings..
When his passion reached the point of no return a second time, the River Lord positioned himself at the Elf’s entrance and let loose a second torrent of silver seed, splattering his opening with enough divine semen to lubricate the passage and turn their encounter into an act of pure pleasure. Still panting from his release, the River Lord positioned his still-hard manhood at the moaning Elf’s opening, looking into his eyes in a wordless request for permission…something the spirit had never felt the need to do before.
The elf looked up at him with those warm, dark eyes, and nodded with a salacious smile. Closing his own eyes, the River Lord began to penetrate his lover with agonizing slowness, pushing the pucker of flesh open with infinite care, where with his offerings he’d simply punched through mercilessly, using his magic to drive them so insane with lust that they didn’t care if they were ripped apart or not.
Not so with the Garnet elf. His body was the River Lord’s own temple, more precious to him than the flow of his current, inciting hotter passion than he’d ever felt in his life. The children of the Gods never fell in love, but the River Lord felt he was as close as an immortal being would ever come. He pumped, slowly and with infinite care, in and out of the Garnet’s tight, willing hole, steam swirling about them as they both broke out in a sweat from the heat of their union. The Garnet’s stiff, hard maleness jutted against his muscular belly, and the River Lord repositioned himself so that it glided between them, lubed by the precome the crimson shaft was secreting by the ounce.
The Garnet grunted at the pleasure from both sides of his body, and urged his spirit-lover for more. Harder, faster, he cried, until the River Lord finally complied and began unleashing the full might of his sexual prowess upon the desperate man. Their racing heartbeats were a primal drumming to which they set their pace, the steam from their union coalescing into a full-fledged fog, hot as a sauna but thick as a fall morning. Their cries grew more strident and urgent by the minute as their shared lust and passion spiraled to a crescendo.
When the River Lord came for the third time, he screamed in ecstasy as his manhood shot its load deep inside the Garnet’s willing opening. Trapped between their bodies as it was, the Garnet’s own red member spasmed and shot, drenching their chests and faces with rich, spicy seed that the River Lord found he couldn’t get enough of. They came together in the steam like that, both men crying out in ecstasy as their bodies gyrated beyond all control, for nearly a minute…longer than the River Lord had ever come in his immortal life, and certainly more pleasure than the Garnet had ever experienced.
After a moment that both beings needed to take to recover themselves, the River Lord rose to the Garnet’s side and kissed him again. Where his first kiss had been demanding, strident, and intended to incite lust, this one became passionate, needful, and an expression of a feeling most immortal folk were incapable of.
Finally, the River Lord rolled onto his hands and knees in the sand, and with a look back to his lover, raised his perfect, tan ass into the air.
~FIN~
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
More New Links
Who, me? Stalling for time while I get over writer's block? o.O
I AM working on a fic (original, too!), but it's slow going. Sooner or later the first chapter'll be up, here and on the y!.
Meantime, check out the blogs of my friends, humbuged and k-type, in the Links list. The Humplex and D-Mode are the two newest links with hot art and creative Flashes that should keep you occupied until this block of mine goes away. >.<
I AM working on a fic (original, too!), but it's slow going. Sooner or later the first chapter'll be up, here and on the y!.
Meantime, check out the blogs of my friends, humbuged and k-type, in the Links list. The Humplex and D-Mode are the two newest links with hot art and creative Flashes that should keep you occupied until this block of mine goes away. >.<
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
New...Link. Yay.
I know ti's a bit of a letdown to everyone who was expecting ficcage from me, but...well, it's better than nothing. A damn sight better, actually, considering the link.
The Stag God Chronicles, by the Oaken Satyr, are some of the best gay erotic stories I've ever read. ^_^ Hot, sexy, dramatic, scary, insightful, and creative, it's much, much more than just porn...but there's still more than enough of that to keep folks interested.
Give it a look, tell him what you think. ^_^
The Stag God Chronicles, by the Oaken Satyr, are some of the best gay erotic stories I've ever read. ^_^ Hot, sexy, dramatic, scary, insightful, and creative, it's much, much more than just porn...but there's still more than enough of that to keep folks interested.
Give it a look, tell him what you think. ^_^
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Requests?
I need to keep writing to make sure I don't fall into a rut. So I'm taking fic requests. ^_^
Post a pairing or story idea you want to see in a comment here or on my Y!Gallery page, or e-mail me at Ingonyama70 (at) yahoo.com (@ sign removed to prevent spam) with 'Fic Request' in the subject line.
I promise I'll take every idea into consideration.
Thanks!
~'Yama
Post a pairing or story idea you want to see in a comment here or on my Y!Gallery page, or e-mail me at Ingonyama70 (at) yahoo.com (@ sign removed to prevent spam) with 'Fic Request' in the subject line.
I promise I'll take every idea into consideration.
Thanks!
~'Yama
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