Carnal Knowledge 5/12
anonymous
June 3 2010, 09:32:34 UTC
"Come here." At his tone, something deep within her belly plunged downward. She might have likened the sensation to fear, or nervousness, only she doubted either of those would feel quite so good. She turned toward him and had taken two steps forward before she even knew she had any intention of complying.
"Take off your robes," he instructed, his eyes intent and unreadable. He seemed to be taking her measure.
"Really? I mean, I--" Solona faltered, confused and suddenly unsure of her own wisdom in pursuing this whole thing. Her heart thundered in her chest as she contemplated standing before him in nothing but her flesh. How could she possibly expect to objectively observe anything in such vulnerable state?
At her hesitation, one of Duncan's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, challenging--or perhaps mocking--her. "Sex can take many forms," he said crisply, as though lecturing, "Certainly, there's the perfunctory coupling intended to dutifully produce a child, but if that's all you're interested in learning about, then I daresay the scope of your inquiry is pathetically limited."
That stung, and she felt the hot flush of injured pride creep across her cheeks. "It is not," she said, lifting her chin. "I wish to know everything."
Duncan rose, stalking toward her. He'd removed his breastplate, gauntlets and greaves to sleep, leaving only the long, robe-like garment he wore beneath the breastplate above a woolen tunic and loose trousers. As he approached, he began pulling at the assorted ties closing the garment.
"There's also lovemaking, naturally," he said with an erudite air, and now Solona was quite certain he was indulging himself in some amusement at her expense, making light of her curiosity. She ought to be offended, she knew, but instead she was simply riveted as he continued to speak. "A slow, gentle, exploration, usually intended to express tenderness and affection."
He stopped speaking when he stood before her, close enough to touch. One large, calloused, impossibly strong-looking hand slowly stretched forth and threaded through her shaggy hair. Breathless, she leaned toward the touch, yearning for fuller contact. His fingers slid through her locks...and clenched there.
"Or there's fucking," he growled, the hard consonant of that final word enunciated so clearly it struck like a tiny blow. He jerked her closer in a sudden movement that nearly pulled her off her feet, until only the smallest breath separated her face from his. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated up and down her nerves. That dropping sensation in her gut was back again, and getting more intense with each word he spoke. "Hard, fast, frequently arising from nothing more than the need to satisfy the urges of the body without regard to emotion."
He released her as unexpectedly as he'd pulled her close. "So...which will best fulfill the intent of your inquiry?" he pondered, his tone low and soft, making a caress of the words that stroked across her nerves. Casually, he dropped the long outer garment. "Whatever you choose, they all involve some greater or lesser degree of nudity. Oh, I suppose I could just throw your robes up over your head and take my pleasure, but I doubt you'd find that very satisfying, intellectually or otherwise."
"All of it," she breathed, her voice unsteady. She wished her pulse would stop pounding the way it insisted on doing. Forming syllables into words, and words into sentences, took every bit of her concentration, for her mind was wont to concoct images of the descriptions he'd rendered.
"All of it?" his brows lifted slightly, and she thought she saw a small smile flit across his lips. "That's ambitious of you."
She ducked her head, embarrassed by his amusement and her own eagerness. Then inspiration struck. She crinkled her eyes, attempting to emulate the flirtatious smiles she'd seen pass between apprentices in the dormitories. For possibly the first time, made light of her own inquisitiveness, using his own words against him. "What sort of scholar would I be if I limited the scope of my inquiry?"
Carnal Knowledge 6/12
anonymous
June 3 2010, 09:33:34 UTC
Something in the way he looked at her warmed in response to her attempt at flirtation. His dark eyes slowly moved down her body, taking in every curve outlined by her robes. He was definitely smiling. "You may just be in for more of an education than you expect," he warned, drawing nearer. "If you don't feel ready to remove your robes, you may undress me," he bade her. "And...do it with your senses, rather than your intellect."
Nervously, she lifted her hands to the laces of the tunic where they were tied at his throat and tugged. She felt the friction vibrating along the string as one end of the laces slid along the other. With trembling fingers she pulled the edges of his collar apart, then reached down for the hem of his shirt, intent upon lifting it.
"Stop," he said softly, catching her hands in his. Afraid she had done something wrong, Solona began to pull back, but he merely drew her hands back to his collar and set her fingers at the place where his shirt parted, revealing his skin. "Use your senses," he admonished again. "Sex is about sensation, not erudition."
Tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, she let her fingertips flutter over his exposed skin. He was warm, despite the cool night air, and his skin was surprisingly soft. Touching him was...pleasant. She wanted to feel more. Closing her eyes, she traced the ridge of his collarbone, the hollow above it, up to his neck where the bristle of his beard began. He obligingly tipped his head back and she explored the texture of his beard, coarse and wiry.
When at last she reached for the hem of his tunic again, it was with a purpose. She let her hands slide beneath it and pressed them to the skin of his abdomen. His skin quivered and twitched as her fingers brushed the sides of his waist. She could feel ridges beneath his skin, and she wanted to see them. When she lifted his tunic, he made no move to stop her, but instead ducked his head and raised his arms, aiding her in removing it.
His skin was striped with pale lines and marred by irregular, puckered scars, and yet it seemed perfect. Seeing the cause of those ridges her fingers had discovered, her eyes widened. The definition of his muscles beneath his scarred skin was wholly unexpected, and completely glorious. They descended from his chest to dip beneath the loose waistband of his trousers in a cascade of warm, living stone. She dragged her knuckles down his torso, feeling each ripple and bump, amazed at how hard and unyielding human flesh could be.
Lifting her eyes, she encountered the buds of his nipples, erect and centered atop a wide, flat pad of muscle. When she touched one, it became harder, smaller, and Duncan let out of low, subsonic groan. At the sound, she felt her own nipples tighten beneath her robes. She withdrew one hand to touch her own breast, felt the hard peak beneath the material. It was exquisitely sensitive when she touched it, even through her robes, and when she rubbed it a soft sigh of pleasure slid from her lips and her eyes fluttered shut.
When she opened them again, Duncan was watching her, his gaze riveted on her hand covering her own breast, his eyes hungry. At his look, everything from her waist down clenched in a delicious surge of warmth and tension. Duncan reached out, his hands deftly making short work of the ties of her robes and parting them to the waist. His hand slipped inside and slid up her ribs to cup her breast.
"Oh!" Her lips opened in a gasp, and she forgot to stare at him as her eyes snapped shut and her head fell back. It startled her to feel a corresponding pulse between her legs as his thumb passed over her nipple. The heat of his hand felt like a brand compared to the chill of the air on her exposed skin and she found herself arching a little to press her breast more firmly into his warm, calloused palm.
Now the soft sighs and moans that had drifted from the bunks in the dormitory made more sense, she thought wonderingly, astonished to hear an uncontrollable whimper emerge from her own lips as his fingers plied her nipple and his palm molded the soft flesh of her breast. He bent over and if his hand had been warm, his mouth was nothing short of a wet inferno engulfing her nipple.
"Take off your robes," he instructed, his eyes intent and unreadable. He seemed to be taking her measure.
"Really? I mean, I--" Solona faltered, confused and suddenly unsure of her own wisdom in pursuing this whole thing. Her heart thundered in her chest as she contemplated standing before him in nothing but her flesh. How could she possibly expect to objectively observe anything in such vulnerable state?
At her hesitation, one of Duncan's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, challenging--or perhaps mocking--her. "Sex can take many forms," he said crisply, as though lecturing, "Certainly, there's the perfunctory coupling intended to dutifully produce a child, but if that's all you're interested in learning about, then I daresay the scope of your inquiry is pathetically limited."
That stung, and she felt the hot flush of injured pride creep across her cheeks. "It is not," she said, lifting her chin. "I wish to know everything."
Duncan rose, stalking toward her. He'd removed his breastplate, gauntlets and greaves to sleep, leaving only the long, robe-like garment he wore beneath the breastplate above a woolen tunic and loose trousers. As he approached, he began pulling at the assorted ties closing the garment.
"There's also lovemaking, naturally," he said with an erudite air, and now Solona was quite certain he was indulging himself in some amusement at her expense, making light of her curiosity. She ought to be offended, she knew, but instead she was simply riveted as he continued to speak. "A slow, gentle, exploration, usually intended to express tenderness and affection."
He stopped speaking when he stood before her, close enough to touch. One large, calloused, impossibly strong-looking hand slowly stretched forth and threaded through her shaggy hair. Breathless, she leaned toward the touch, yearning for fuller contact. His fingers slid through her locks...and clenched there.
"Or there's fucking," he growled, the hard consonant of that final word enunciated so clearly it struck like a tiny blow. He jerked her closer in a sudden movement that nearly pulled her off her feet, until only the smallest breath separated her face from his. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated up and down her nerves. That dropping sensation in her gut was back again, and getting more intense with each word he spoke. "Hard, fast, frequently arising from nothing more than the need to satisfy the urges of the body without regard to emotion."
He released her as unexpectedly as he'd pulled her close. "So...which will best fulfill the intent of your inquiry?" he pondered, his tone low and soft, making a caress of the words that stroked across her nerves. Casually, he dropped the long outer garment. "Whatever you choose, they all involve some greater or lesser degree of nudity. Oh, I suppose I could just throw your robes up over your head and take my pleasure, but I doubt you'd find that very satisfying, intellectually or otherwise."
"All of it," she breathed, her voice unsteady. She wished her pulse would stop pounding the way it insisted on doing. Forming syllables into words, and words into sentences, took every bit of her concentration, for her mind was wont to concoct images of the descriptions he'd rendered.
"All of it?" his brows lifted slightly, and she thought she saw a small smile flit across his lips. "That's ambitious of you."
She ducked her head, embarrassed by his amusement and her own eagerness. Then inspiration struck. She crinkled her eyes, attempting to emulate the flirtatious smiles she'd seen pass between apprentices in the dormitories. For possibly the first time, made light of her own inquisitiveness, using his own words against him. "What sort of scholar would I be if I limited the scope of my inquiry?"
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Nervously, she lifted her hands to the laces of the tunic where they were tied at his throat and tugged. She felt the friction vibrating along the string as one end of the laces slid along the other. With trembling fingers she pulled the edges of his collar apart, then reached down for the hem of his shirt, intent upon lifting it.
"Stop," he said softly, catching her hands in his. Afraid she had done something wrong, Solona began to pull back, but he merely drew her hands back to his collar and set her fingers at the place where his shirt parted, revealing his skin. "Use your senses," he admonished again. "Sex is about sensation, not erudition."
Tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, she let her fingertips flutter over his exposed skin. He was warm, despite the cool night air, and his skin was surprisingly soft. Touching him was...pleasant. She wanted to feel more. Closing her eyes, she traced the ridge of his collarbone, the hollow above it, up to his neck where the bristle of his beard began. He obligingly tipped his head back and she explored the texture of his beard, coarse and wiry.
When at last she reached for the hem of his tunic again, it was with a purpose. She let her hands slide beneath it and pressed them to the skin of his abdomen. His skin quivered and twitched as her fingers brushed the sides of his waist. She could feel ridges beneath his skin, and she wanted to see them. When she lifted his tunic, he made no move to stop her, but instead ducked his head and raised his arms, aiding her in removing it.
His skin was striped with pale lines and marred by irregular, puckered scars, and yet it seemed perfect. Seeing the cause of those ridges her fingers had discovered, her eyes widened. The definition of his muscles beneath his scarred skin was wholly unexpected, and completely glorious. They descended from his chest to dip beneath the loose waistband of his trousers in a cascade of warm, living stone. She dragged her knuckles down his torso, feeling each ripple and bump, amazed at how hard and unyielding human flesh could be.
Lifting her eyes, she encountered the buds of his nipples, erect and centered atop a wide, flat pad of muscle. When she touched one, it became harder, smaller, and Duncan let out of low, subsonic groan. At the sound, she felt her own nipples tighten beneath her robes. She withdrew one hand to touch her own breast, felt the hard peak beneath the material. It was exquisitely sensitive when she touched it, even through her robes, and when she rubbed it a soft sigh of pleasure slid from her lips and her eyes fluttered shut.
When she opened them again, Duncan was watching her, his gaze riveted on her hand covering her own breast, his eyes hungry. At his look, everything from her waist down clenched in a delicious surge of warmth and tension. Duncan reached out, his hands deftly making short work of the ties of her robes and parting them to the waist. His hand slipped inside and slid up her ribs to cup her breast.
"Oh!" Her lips opened in a gasp, and she forgot to stare at him as her eyes snapped shut and her head fell back. It startled her to feel a corresponding pulse between her legs as his thumb passed over her nipple. The heat of his hand felt like a brand compared to the chill of the air on her exposed skin and she found herself arching a little to press her breast more firmly into his warm, calloused palm.
Now the soft sighs and moans that had drifted from the bunks in the dormitory made more sense, she thought wonderingly, astonished to hear an uncontrollable whimper emerge from her own lips as his fingers plied her nipple and his palm molded the soft flesh of her breast. He bent over and if his hand had been warm, his mouth was nothing short of a wet inferno engulfing her nipple.
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