Starlight In Her Hair (Shiva the Cat/BennyQ)

[Shiva the Cat]

Alcalantë's fëa was not wholly inexperienced with carnal activity. A lifetime ago, she had lain with another Maia beneath the trees of Oromë's sacred wood, an encounter that had come about through curiosity more than passion. The experience had been...fine. Not remarkably pleasing, but not painful or traumatic either. She had parted with Kemós the Spearman with indifference and disinterest in future tryts, and the maiden rarely found herself thinking back on the matter. Indeed, it was almost forgotten until she had first seen Celevonaur's naked form, kindling the old desires she'd felt so briefly amid the oaks and rowans beyond the sea.

But she'd had no material body at the time of the affiar; the joining had been spiritual alone. And the Maia was quickly discovering that without physical form, such a coupling was nothing more than the image of a flower as might be compared to standing naked in a full field in bloom. Every squeeze, every shift in Alcalantë's flesh made her gasp. She squeezed Celevonaur's body more tightly than she ever thought her limbs capable of. His kisses made her stomach flutter in a way she never could have imagined, and her skin burned as hot as his own, even giving off a dim fiery glow through the rising steam.

She had closed her eyes as the sensations grew too much to bear, but something, either Celevonaur's own will or a sudden need to rein in her passion, made Alcalantë open them again. They locked with the fugitive's burning gaze, and a storm of emotions raged within her. He teased her with his own accusations of being different, and she blushed in sudden humiliation in realizing she was debasing herself: a handmaid of the Valar brought down to the condition of a bitch in heat, writhing against her mate and whining to be taken. She was surprised he hadn't turned her and fucked her on all fours like an animal, and she was even more humiliated that such an idea only made her wetter for him.

The saving grace was that there was no malice in Celevonaur's eyes as he rested his brow against hers, a gesture that was unarguably tender unto itself. Whatever Alcalantë might have felt, it was not through the Úmaia's desire to torture her. Indeed, it was impossible to deny that he desired her as badly as she did him, from the feel of his manhood pressing so firmly against her sex. The maiden glanced downward again, whimpering a little at the sight of his member. Her fëa might not have been virginal, but her Raiment was, as the fugitive no doubt felt when he tried to enter her.

It wasn't painful at first. Alcalantë felt him brush against her own little nub of pleasure, making her jump a little and squirm to try and increase the friction. The feeling was soon overpowered by the feel of her walls stretching to their breaking point, simultaneously pushing him back and squeezing tighter to draw him in. He would tear her apart if he didn't stop now, she was sure of it...but she didn't say a word. The Maia bit down hard on her lip, hard enough to draw blood, and let him push in even deeper. It hurt unlike anything she could ever imagine as she swallowed scream after scream, but when he was finally buried to the hilt a strange peace washed over her body.

They were one now. Celevonaur had molded her Raiment to fit his own, but his fëa seemed to touch Alcalantë's as well. In this moment they were an Order unto themselves, whole and perfectly balanced, corrupted and purified all at once, the sound of a dissonant chord realigning itself into flawless harmony. Alcalantë wished it could have gone on forever.

Celevonaur didn't ruin the moment with his whispered words in the old tongue, but he did bring it to an end. The pain returned as he began to move inside her, but it was fading quickly. After a little while Alcalantë even found the strength to rock her hips against him in response, taking back a little control to hold him tantalizingly far from her when he least expected it, or suddenly forcing him all the way into her core. But when the pleasure had left the agony as nothing more than a dim memory, animal instinct threatened to take over, making her movements more frantic and less graceful while her nails dug into the Úmaia's back.

There would be no risk of impregnation when he finally released inside her. Maiar did not conceive without a greater purpose from their masters, and Alcalantë could not think of a single Ainu who would have wanted to see a child born between a lesser servant and a fugitive traitor to the Valar. So it was that she let her own pleasure push her to the edge, squeezing his manhood tighter and tighter with every thrust. The glowing aura radiating from her skin seemed to grow brighter as well, at the same time darkening from a blush pink to a deep crimson, almost like fire as it reflected off the steam.

Any moment now, and the end would come. Alcalantë pressed her face to the crook of Celevonaur's neck, urging her body ever closer even as a shadow on her mind made her dread it. Nessa's warning about her Raiment echoed in her ears, but Nessa was out of reach now. There was only Celevonaur, and the rest of the world was lost.

 

[BennyQ]

There was not a word of complaint or protest. Not a shove or a push. He was inside of her and Alcalantë’s own body told a tale that her words would not. She moved and rubbed in tandem with his motions, seeking the pleasure spots for stimulation, and Celevonaur smiled at her attempts while he thrust upon and within her. It felt like her first time but her actions and gestures were not that of an inexperienced virgin, strangely. No gasps of pain. No cries for falter or pause. They were opposites, Maia and Úmaia, and yet there was no conflict, no struggle or contest for dominance. They were just two lovers, joined at the hips, immersed in each other’s gazes and exhales of breath. Now was not the time to consider statues and conditions. He wanted her. And he was taking her, with a singular focus.

Her arms and legs gripped tight about him. His own hands held her aloft beneath, gripping at whatever flesh they could find, to help steady and move her body, rising up as he drew his hips back, and dragging her down as his hips thrust forward. A simple gesture, yet the elixir of pleasure was in that simplicity, and in a wonderful moment of magic, they were both in unison, racing together to a mutual conclusion that came with such combined vigor. He could feel her body beginning to buckle around his shaft, squeezing hard, and his own lower abdomen began to spike in pressure, a steady ball of heat and power threatening to unfold. It was coming!

It was different for their kind. He would soon unleash his seed in a glorious offering to their rigor but he was not afraid. There would be no consequences, or else he would be father to quite a large brood given his own experience with such matters. But together they were rushing, brows together, breath mingling, eyes shut with determination. “Ah,” he gasped a little loudly, a little uncharacteristic in losing his composure. He hissed. He rasped. He was trying to fight it, to prolong the moment of intensity before unleashing, and yet racing to that goal regardless. He could not withhold much longer. His grip on her flesh was tight, painful even, as he fell into the throes of release, grunting, gasping, thrusting himself in to his apex reach into her interior, to deposit his offers.

His first ever with his Raiment. It was no small volume. The pleasure diluted through his body and for a moment there was a very real danger that his arms would turn to mud and his grip would be lost and they would collapse in a tumble into the waters. But Celevonaur maintained, and rode it out, and steadily breathed his way back to his composure. He held her close, one hand trailing up her back, to press her face into his neck while he tucked her shoulder under his jaw. He…just needed to breathe.

By the void, he was so utterly spent. Softly, he chuckled, and kissed her cheek. The thrusting ceased, his grip loosened but maintained her in his arms, their bodies still conjoined, and they were still.

For a long moment, he was just…still, with her. Their hearts were beating from the finished race. His body still shuddered with the aftershocks, the last trickles flooding into her depths. Celevonaur just wanted to hold her like this, forever. His maiden valarauco, his to do whatever he wished with, to mold her to his experiences, and desires, and affinities…

A sudden crack behind him caused Celevonaur to jerk.

It was no danger, or the approach of strangers or wild animal. The lumber of the nearby trees splintered as fire rent it asunder. The green shrubbery of those nearest to the pool was blackened from the fire, while branches broke and collapsed to the forest floor, where smaller fires spread among the grass, though contained by the wetness of the soil and shore. There was a great cloud of steam about them, rising to the heavens, immersing them in a strange, welcoming coat of heat. Yet their flesh that was above body was completely dry, except for what might be trailing down Alcalantë’s thighs. But the trees nearest were alight like a ring of fire.

“Huh.” Celevonaur mused over her shoulder. “I…forgot that happens, when one of our Order…” he trailed off, not wanting to explain how he might know that. An Ainu, and not bound by such limits of stamina and endurance that an Upstart might be subjected to with such an act, he was still very erect and virile. But gently, he lowered Alcalantë downwards, until her legs could find the underwater soil and stand on her own. His hands rested on her sides still as he looked from left to right, and over her head. The joining of their two bodies was an outpouring of power too great even for their Raiments and had spread in a vast ring about them. The trees, the undergrowth, the nearest grass and plants had all burst aflame, but without their spiritual energies to fuel it any longer, they were soon dying to embers.

He turned to look at her. And smiled. “That was nice.” He just whispered to her and leaned in to kiss her lips, while his hands ran up the front of her body, shamelessly and lewdly groping at her breasts. They were nicely formed and he had to pull away to look at them, uncaring that she might see his gaze drop to such intimate regions of her body. “You are well formed. Shapely. I…I like it. I have never seen a Raiment such as yours.” He praised her quietly. He leaned in again, mischievous grin as always, not thinking twice of the consequences or implications of their act. It was common in Angband, and Utumno before. “I reckon…you are dirtier now than you were before.” He said, in reference to his essence that must be leaking from her. He laughed teasingly and brought his hands to her shoulders.

Only to spin her about. One arm snaked under her mounds, another…snaked its way between her thighs. “I just want to feel it.” He demanded, as his hand came over her maidenhood, a finger coursing down her folds, tracing her shape, making himself at home with it. It was a marvelous thing, one he delighted in, and one he wouldn’t mind… “I want to drink from it.” He whispered hotly in her ear.

If she shoved him off for his lewdness, he would not complain.