Narrator – OOG Furasc L’iir 01

(The sensation is fire across the thickest sheet of winter ice. Her tongue draws along the contour of his stomach muscles, just below the indentation left by his sword belt. Still wrapped in the deepest sleep, he responds with a warrior’s potency and virility. So close to the light, the warmth of her mouth envelopes him. He feels safe. Excited. Committed beyond the mere physicality this was marked to be.)

“My lord. I willingly take you.”

(The sensitivity. The thin line between pain and rapture. The body confused by what the mind cares nothing about. A chill…)

“Mmmm….my dearest lord.”

(…and once again, quickly, the sacred moist and warm.)

“Your gift. Your sacrament. (beat) I do partake.”

(On the crest of a waking state, he sucks the scented air deep into his lungs. He opens his eyes, and the arcane shadows on the stuccoed ceiling betray their union. His back is arched in a beautiful half moon shaken by near violent spasms of his hips and legs. His eyes open to their fullest as the full weight of his body is so gently released to the overstuffed country bed. She keeps him in her mouth…unwilling to release him until she is ready. He exhales a moan into the cooling night air.)


(He is free of her lips. Wet and weakened, his manhood quivers from the chill. She makes a playful sound. Sensual more than joyful. He looks down at her now sitting on her folded legs at the base of the bed. Her hair. Her eyes. Her breasts, with nipples firm and protruding. This woman is alive with excitement. Fueled by lust and the nectar of his time-bound chastity. She licks her index finger and begins to circle her areoles. First the left. She licks again. Then the right. She rolls her head backward and her auburn hair drops down her back. The slight point of her ears fascinates him. Arouses him…again. He smiles as she probes her soft lips.)

“Vin s’I varai.”

(She lifts herself up and forward, taking a deep breath. She exhales, lowering herself onto his shaft reborn.)

“My lord. I am yours. I obey and serve you. I worship your gifts and open my heart in trust and honorable union.”

(She lifts herself up then quickly down onto him…joining the rhythm of his breaths. He responds in kind, driving himself deeper into her and harder with each thrust.)

“To you I am committed. To you I am joined. To you…I give my thoughts…my words…my deeds.”

(His mind reels with memories. His essence responds to her…breathes with her. His heart opens wide its prison door…kept locked for far too long.)

“Do you accept this devotion, my lord? (She drops hard onto him) Do you willingly take my heart? (Again) My spirit? (Again) My thoughts… (Again) My words… (Again) My deeds?”

(His heat explodes deep into her core. His body quakes uncontrollably as he empties himself freely…willingly…unselfishly.)

“Do you, my lord? Speak it! Speak your answer, Lord Ra’aviik!”

(He is hers. Wholly and completely. Her mate. Her furasc l’iir. Her intended.)

“Yes! Yes!”

(His body collapses on the sweat-drenched bed linens.)

“By the grace of Laas Va’iir…yes.”

(His mind spirals into the pool of desire and release. Pain and comfort. Love, lust, love, lust…over and over. He begins to cry.)

“Shhhhhh, sweet Ra’aviik.”

(She touches her finger to his lips. Silencing him. She then brushes his cheek, his hair.)

“Sleep while I prepare your armor and tunic. My furasc l’iir will be the envy of his dwarven hosts. A true Cóng Manii nobleman. My furasc l’iir.”