Friday, January 18, 2013

Scene: Blessed Dream?

The psychic stood in her kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea. It had been a long day already, and it wasn't even noon yet. She found herself thankful for the true silence that filled the room, tired of the faint whispers of the dead and their constant demands for her to help them connect again with the living room. Sitting on the table was a manuscript she was editing, one that was dictated by said whispers.

“Hi,” said a male voice. She sighed, at first annoyed that there was yet another being jabbering at her. Then she gasped, her eyes widening slightly, as she realized that it was a voice she heard with her ears, a voice from another person. She turned abruptly to find a tall man leaning against her counter. A smile curved his lips and danced in his blue eyes. Hair the color of ripe wheat framed his face and spilled over his muscular shoulders. As she stared at him, the tea cup slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

He darted forward and caught the cup, managing not to spill even a drop of the scalding liquid. He looked up at her, his amused smile turning more suggestive. “You.. You can't be here,” she gasped, taking a step back, a single hand fluttering to her chest, “It's not possible.” He straightened and set the cup on the counter as he leaned back against it again. The blue twill of his shirt seemed but a few shades darker then his eyes and the white mother of pearl buttons gleamed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

He watched her lick her lips nervously. “I'm dreaming,” she concluded, “This must be a dream.” He stepped forward, his booted feet almost soundless against the carpeting. He wrapped his arms about her shoulders, pulling her against himself. “Gods don't just show up in one's kitchen, you know,” she said in a small, anxious voice.

“Tell me, little one,” he said, “do your dreams do this?” His mouth settled over hers, stilling her babbling. As he kissed her, she froze and trembled. The impossiblity of the situation suddenly didn't matter in the warmth of his presence. She closed her eyes and simply surrendered to what was at first an almost chaste pressing of lips.

One of his warm hands moved down to settle at the small of her back as the other came up to cradle the back of her head. Dizzily, she took a breath in as he deepened the kiss. The warm scents of a hayfield in the summer afternoon, of ripe grain, and something undeniably male combined together to subtly push away her panic. He stepped forward, guiding her back until she was against the wall. He broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck. Before lifting his head and whispering in her ear, “Do you know who I am?”

“You're Frey,” she said. He stepped back just enough so that their bodies were not pressed together. “But why?” she asked. Frey gave the psychic an indulgent smile before shaking his head. “I...” she started when he put his fingertips on her lips.

“No words,” he said, “No questions. Don't think, just do.” The tall god's hands gathered the trembling woman close to himself again before finding their way under her sweatshirt. Gently, they traced intricate patterns over her sensitive sides. She sighed with pleasure and he pressed his hands more firmly against her. He smiled at how she turned her head away from him, struggling against the sweet torment that he put her through. “I know you better then any man,” he laughed, “Do you really think you can resist me? Especially when we both know you don't want to.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him in a sudden flash of terror. Frey only smiled at her as he lightly dragged his nails up along her ribs. Her mouth fell open and she gasped as he lightly dug them deeper into her skin. “This is what you need,” he said into her ear as she sagged against him, going weak as he retraced his intricate patterns with his nails raising red welts in their passing.

He slipped his hands out from beneath her shirt and lifted the fabric up. In a smooth motion, he took the sweatshirt off and dropped it to the floor. Frey's mouth closed over her right nipple, his beard tickling her skin as he took it in his teeth. She made a mewling cry and moved away from him, but his grip about her waist only allowed her enough space to squirm.

He reached down and gripped her hips. As he pressed her firmly against himself, he grinned at how her eyes went wide. She started to say something when Frey shook his head. His mouth, warm, soft, and delightful, made its way down her abdomen. He caught the waistband of her sweatpants in his teeth. He looked up at her with smoldering hunger in his eyes.

She gasped and put a maidenly hand over her chest, as she reached with her free hand to push him away from her waist. He gave a low growl, sounding half like a feral animal and she pulled her hand back with a squeak of shock. He reached down and pushed her ankles together. As he ran his hands up the outsides of her legs, Frey chuckled softly and let go her clothes, choosing to flash her a dazzling grin moments before he stripped her of her pants and underwear in a single motion.

She gave a yelp and moved to cover herself. He caught her wrists and pushed them back against the wall, pinning them to either side of her hips. Frey pressed a kiss over her right hipbone. He slowly dragged his tongue along the line of her hip towards her sex. He nuzzled between her thighs, taking in a slow, deep breath. He moved one of his knees to between her feet and gently parted her legs.

Looking up at her hotly, the god breathed softly on her sex. Her maidenly shock was quickly replaced with a full body shiver as her eyes rolled with pleasure. He closed his teeth on the inside of her left thigh, groaning softly as she shivered again with a small noise. Gradually, he bit down harder. She shuddered harder, struggling weakly to pull her wrists free of his grip.

With a muffled laugh, he let go of her wrists and leaned back away from her. She looked at him with lust glazed eyes and he gave a knowing smile. As she watched him hungrily, he took of his clothes. Where he had simply dropped her clothing to the side, he folded his neatly and stacked them on a chair. She couldn't help staring at him. With a wry smile, he briefly posed, flexing an arm.

An entirely unexpected and inappropriate giggle burst from the nervous object of his attentions. Frey's smile turned sweet as he stepped up close to her. He leaned against her, kissing her deeply. Her slim hands settled lightly on his chest. As she ran her fingertips through the thicket of hair over his pectorals, he put a hand on her hip and broke the kiss. He pressed is forehead against hers, looking intensely into her eyes.

She stared up at him. She couldn't help the dizzy feeling that came over her as she looked into his eyes. Overwhelmed by it, she closed her eyes and moved her head so that her forehead rested against his right shoulder. He laughed softly in her ear, a warm, comforting and soothing sound. With little effort, he brought her hips to meet his, pinning her against the wall with his chest. Holding her against himself and up against the wall, the god thrust slowly into the shivering woman. He groaned softly as he found her wet and willing.

Deciding to press his advantage, he thrust faster. The woman in his arms began to shudder and groan as the first of several orgasms rolled over her. Her head lolled against his shoulder, but he paid it no mind, intent on wrenching as many orgasms from her as he could before she fell down into unconsciousness. Soon, her shuddering and groaning gave way to weak shivers and soft little sobs of pleasure. She gasped suddenly, and threw her head back. A deafening scream of pleasure was ripped from her as Frey decided he was about finished with her. He continued, thrusting harder as he sought his own orgasm. As he came, she fell weakly into his arms.

Untroubled by the post-coital weakness of his human partner, Frey simply readjusted his hold on her. He carried her into her bedroom and set her down upon the bed. As he drew the blankets over her, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. He took the cup of tea in his hand. As he breathed something in an old language, the liquid within steamed. Frey looked at the small pile of clothes on the floor and smiled.

An hour later, the nude woman woke in her bed. She sat up, confused. She slipped out of bed and grabbed her fluffy robe off of the hook on the back of the door. She put it on and ran a hand through her hair as she slipped her feet into her slippers. As she was tying the robe shut she walked into the kitchen. Her eyes went wide when she saw her clothes in a pile on the floor.

She looked from the clothes to the table. Sitting on the table was her teacup. She reached to pick it up and gaped in wonder. The tea was still hot. Beneath the cup, she found a single rune scratched into the tabletop, Ing.

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