0 comments/ 11710 views/ 18 favorites Suula's Flower By: DireLilith The flowers in Suula's hair slowly slid from the chestnut brown locks as the very tips of her hair began to drag in the deepening water. The moon above had cast a luminescent bluish glow on the water of the pool at the bottom of the cascading waterfalls. Suula's skin, too, had taken on a blue hue. She smiled softly at her reflection, then dragged a single long and slender finger through the water to create ripples over her mirrored face. All around the pool was silent, calm, undisturbed shadowed leaves and branches looking more midnight blue than black. It was Suula's favourite place to bathe, the privacy so peaceful after a long day of arduous learning. Her clothes lay in a neat folded pile on a flat rock where she had entered the pool. And beneath her feet, deep in the waist high water, she could feel the familiar softness of water-moss covering the smooth rocks that lined the bottom of the pond. Suddenly something made Suula tense. She tucked a heavy lock of brown hair behind one pointed ear and began to look around, soft lavender coloured eyes earnest in their search. There hadn't been a sudden snap of a twig, a splash of a disturbed rock landing in the water. Nothing obvious. But she knew without a doubt that suddenly she wasn't alone. Carefully, Suula made her way towards her clothing, where her dagger was tucked beneath the silky material of her dress. "Leaving so soon?" came an accented voice, causing Suula to turn her head sharply to one side to identify its source. Standing on a white disc that floated above the ground was a cloaked figure. One hand was held out slightly, obviously in control of the disc magickally. Suula could see the dark skin of that hand as the fingers wavered slightly and the disc lowered. The figure stepped from the round one-person platform and stood next to Suula's clothing for a moment before squatting down over her dress. She gasped as she watched the stranger draw the dagger out from her clothing, the thin stiletto blade shining in the moonlight. "Looking for this?" the man said, for that voice could only belong to a man. A man Suula knew. Her eyes went wide as the dark fingers of his other hand drew his hood back, revealing his face to the elf maiden. It was Aragarte, an arrogant dark elf she had met in the common village of Esteban, not far from here but far enough that it was obvious he wasn't simply out for a walk. He had followed her. Was it the first time? Had he followed her before? A humiliated blush began to creep up the pale flesh of Suula's cheeks and she cast her eyes downward as her hands slowly crossed across her chest. She felt vulnerable, exposed as she was. There were sounds now, metallic clicks and a flush of material dropping to the ground. She didn't need to look up to know he was undressing himself. A splash of water confirmed that for her and she knew he was in the pool with her now. The first thing that appeared was the tip of her blade, pointed seemingly at her heart. Then, as Suula dared to look at the blade, angry at herself for having let this happen, the dagger flipped around easily in Aragarte's hand and was presented to her handle first. Suula took it, holding it tightly between her covered breasts. "What are you doing here?" she finally dared to ask, not yet ready to lift her eyes. "I came to give you your knife," Aragarte said cockily. "You looked like you might need it." Suula lifted her eyes, avoiding looking at the expanse of naked black flesh Aragarte was showing off as he moved closer to her. Her gaze narrowed as she looked into his red eyes, the smile on his lips reflected there somewhat as much as the moonlight was. His hair was as long as her own, she knew, and he had tucked a lock of it behind his own pointed ear as if to mimic her own hairstyle. "You followed me," she finally said, lips slightly tight. "Did I? Or did I happen upon a place to bathe and find someone already using it?" "You're Drow," she snapped immediately. "Do Drow even bathe? Surely not in the light of the moon..." Aragarte put on a mock look of hurt at the biting tone Suula used. She wasn't typically such a harridan but he was a Drow, a dark elf. And she was a high elf. And everyone knew there was no love lost between the two races of elven kind. It was a wonder he was allowed in the town of Esteban at all, but there he had been when she arrived as part of her sabbatical. She had wanted to learn the magick of the common people, the humans, not sure of how such people could cast magick without having an ounce of the arcane in their own bodies. Finding Aragarte there doing practically the same thing had insulted and offended her but she had told herself to endure. "Suula," he said in his thickly accented voice, speaking High Elvish to her, "you wound me. Do I seem like someone who would not bathe, to you?" With a smile, he narrowed his red eyes at her. "Have you been smelling my hair when I walk passed you?" "No!" she said firmly. "Then how would you know how I smell? If I smell at all?" Suula huffed, not interested in having a battle of wits with someone she felt was surely unarmed. She turned her back on him suddenly, the water swirling as she moved. The curtain of her dark hair made her feel somehow secure as it slid over her shoulders, blocking the dark elf even from her peripheral vision. "Suula," he was whispering, and then she realized her mistake. Putting one's back to danger was a silly thing to do, everyone knew that. But putting one's back to a dark elf was equally dangerous and silly. They found it an insult, as their culture was one full of back stabbing and assassinations and spying. Their world was built on such things. And such gestures as insinuating that one's companion was not worth fearing, putting one's back to that person as if to say there was nothing to fear, caused great insult. The Drow were known for their anger and their rage, their tempers claimed as deepened wrath that could wake the dragons of Hell if not quenched, if not satiated. Suula could feel her whole body tensing now, and she squeezed her fingers around the dagger's handle, almost daring Aragarte to harm her, to give her reason to use the blade. She held her breath and closed her eyes, waiting for him to make his move. When it came, it was not what she could have prepared for. Dark fingers slowly slid around the flesh of her upper arms, gentle in their touch as if handling a baby bird. Suula had never felt such a soft touch before, despite the gentle nature of her own people. One hand lifted to tug her hair away lightly, exposing her shoulder to the light of the moon. Then the fingers of that hand lifted and touched lightly on the long length of her pointed earlobe, stroking lightly. "Now why would you put your back to me," Aragarte began to whisper as he drew ever closer. Suula could feel the press of his chest lightly against her spine. "I'm-" she started, pausing to gulp. "I'm not afraid of you..." That caused the man to chuckle. She could feel the laughter hidden deep in his belly, the guffaws he didn't let escape, instead favouring her with soft quiet laughter. "Oh of course you are," he whispered. His lips were oh so near her ear now. Why wasn't she pulling away? Aragarte continued to speak, as his hand returned to her upper arm. Both sets of fingers were taking turns gently squeezing her muscles and stroking over her skin. "All of your people are afraid of me, to some degree. Afraid of people with skin like mine, eyes like mine...But you, my little dove, my little bathing swan, you're more afraid of me than any of them. And do you know why? Shall I tell you why?" Suula was half insulted by what he said, but also half intrigued. What could he mean? The High Elf people were not afraid of the Drow. They were sickened by their distant cousins who lived only beneath the ground in caverns as large as any city the elves could claim. Most dark elves lived their whole lives down below, where they never saw the beauty of the light of day. The sun was said to weaken them. No, how could he say her people were afraid of he and his kind? "Tell me," she dared to say, surprised at how breathy her voice sounded. She turned her face slightly to one side, realizing how very close his height was to her own. His face was right there, a mere moment away from her own. "You fear me," he whispered, "because you desire me..." "Of course I don't," she began to say, but one of his fingers came up and cut her words off before she could finish her sentence. "You fear me because of all the people you have seen in the last fifty or more years, I am the only one suitable to you. The one most like you." Suula slowly turned herself around, unable to speak, unsure what to say. She had lived in Esteban for sixty seven years now. She had watched human children come into this world, had helped with one or two of their births even, and then had outlived those very children. Human lifespans were short, they simply weren't the toughest of races on a world so harsh and unforgiving to anyone who showed a weakness. It had taken her ten years to make her way to the town of Esteban, seeking a specific human sorcerer that she wished to learn from, only to find he had died while she was en route. She had his books though and that was how she spent most of her days, up in his tower reading his vast library of books. Finding Aragarte had at first annoyed and irritated her. He was a Drow and their people were at war. That didn't mean she needed to try and kill him, and never had she raised a blade or a spell against him. He had accepted her presence and had never gotten in her way, keeping to himself. He sought the tower mostly at night, leaving it in Suula's hands during the daylight hours. They rarely encountered each other, but she was ever so aware of the only other elf in the vicinity. But while many was the time she had thought of him, never had it been as he was suggesting. "You're wrong," she said quietly. "Am I?" Aragarte said with a confident smile. Suula nodded. "Prove it then." "Prove what?" "That you don't desire me..." Frowning, Suula felt her brows furrowing at the thought. "How exactly am I supposed to do that?" "Kiss me." His answer was quick, prompt and to the point. And it sounded as if he really believed what he was suggesting. If she kissed him, she could prove he was wrong. Suula gulped, looking into Aragarte's eyes. When she had turned, he hadn't released her from his light grasp. Now his arms encircled around her back. Her hands were still folded over her round breasts, the dagger mashed between the depths of her growing cleavage as the dark elf pulled her slightly closer. "I can't, I don't think..." she whispered. "See?" he retorted with a wink. "When you're around me, you can't even think. I must be right, and you must be too afraid to kiss me..." He was playing on Suula's pride and it was working. She was not afraid. Hadn't she left her home city and ventured out into the wild without even a guard or servant to attend her. How could he say she was afraid? Of anything? She was the bravest elf she had ever known, as far as she was concerned, willing to forgo the pleasures of an easy city life within the High Elf kingdom, just for the sake of learning. Suddenly Suula rose up on her toes and closed the small distance between her mouth and Aragarte's. She kissed him fully on the lips, and then stood on the flats of her feet again, blinking at him. "I am not afraid," she said quietly, wanting him to acknowledge her bravery. Aragarte laughed. "You call that a kiss?" he teased. "As if you could do better," she scoffed. So he did. Aragarte's mouth on hers was sudden but tender, as light as his touch on her arms had been. At first Suula wanted to object, then some part of her told her it was only fair. And then there was another feeling that overwhelmed and swept over the logical thoughts she was struggling to hold on to. His kiss felt good, it felt right and it felt heated and passionate and deep. She felt her body leaning in to his, his arms holding her just above the water as his head pushed towards her. She was bending now, and one of his hands slid up her back to cup the fall of dark hair at the back of her head. Held aloft just so by him, she felt one of her feet slip on the moss beneath the pool. Her leg slid between Aragarte's and that was when he pulled away, when the touch of her thigh grazed his manhood. He stared into her face, his hand moving from the back of her head to touch her cheek gently. His thumb rubbed at the high bone beneath her slanted eye, and Suula found herself blinking, feeling absolutely breathless. "You have nothing to fear from me," he said quietly. "I could have killed you a thousand times by now. But it isn't my wish to harm you..." "What...what is your wish?" Suula said, and part of her suddenly wished she had agreed to wed before leaving the city of her birth. At least then she might know what was going on, what was happening to her that made her heart pound so hard in her chest. Aragarte reached his hand between their bodies and Suula tensed, sure he was going to grasp and grope at one of her breasts. But instead, he drew the dagger from her hands and tossed it behind him. She heard it land near her clothing, though her eyes stayed glued to his. "What I want," he said quietly, that thick accent as he spoke High Elvish showing that it wasn't a natural language for him. "What I want is to have you..." "You...you can't," she tried to say. "You mustn't..." "Why not, Suula," he asked, fingers returning to stroke her cheek. His thumb brushed down over her chin and his index finger bent beneath it to tilt her face up. He was studying her face now, she could tell by the quick way his gaze moved over her face. He was taking in her eyes, her pert nose, the triangular shape of her face. "You can't have me," she tried again to reassert. "But I already have you," Aragarte said in response, his arm around her back feeling suddenly so strong and secure in his grasp of her. "It's up to you to be released, at this point." "Me?" He nodded. "Simply push away from me. Move away from me and walk to your clothing and get dressed." Suula slowly pushed on his chest, lightly forcing him away from her so she could stand up straight. She felt a lump in her throat as she pushed further still and slid from his arms. For a moment, her eyes lingered on his as she began to walk by him. Somehow she couldn't believe she was doing it, that she was capable of walking away. Something in his kiss had commanded a part of her no one else had commanded, and yet here she was, moving away. Suula pulled herself up out of the pool. She didn't dare turn around, knowing that if he was looking at her, he was getting a full view of her bare bottom. The elven maid bit down lightly on her bottom lip as she picked up her dress and gave it a light shake. The nipples that darkened the white orbs of her breasts were stiff as she slipped the dress over her head and wrapped its ties around her waist and ribs. It felt as if the dress were too constricting, though humans who saw it wrote of such a garment flowing as if it contained unnatural breezes in its material. But in this moment, to Suula, it was simply too tight. There was a noise next to her, and she turned with a start to realize that Aragarte was there, dressing as well. She wanted to look away but he had his back to her and he couldn't possibly see her looking. Her eyes wandered over his lean form, noting the cut of muscles beneath his dark skin. He rippled as he moved, as if there wasn't a single ounce of fat on his body. Lean and chiseled, he was as slender as any High Elf male, but there was a softness lacking in his form. Suula openly studied his physique now, realizing how very scarred Aragarte's skin was. There was one particular gash across his lower spine that looked as if the blade that had cut him would have severed his soul from his flesh if it had cut any deeper. Suula couldn't help herself. Slowly, she reached out to touch the scar. Her fingers had barely grazed the silvery blue colour of the healed wound when Aragarte turned hard and grabbed her wrist. The gentleness of earlier was gone, and his fingers wrapped around her lower arm like a vice. The look on his face was one of frustration, anger, and that indomitable rage the Drow were known for. But for some reason, Suula wasn't afraid. Slowly, she drew herself closer to him, somehow feeling more confident now that she was dressed. It was as if putting on her raiment had returned to her the grace and authority her people were known for. One slender white hand lifted to touch against Aragarte's cheek, almost mimicking the same tender motion he had given her when they had been in the pool. "I am not afraid of you," she whispered softly, stepping closer. "Maybe you should be," Aragarte hissed, still not releasing her hand. "No," Suula said, shaking her head slowly. The wet tendrils of her hair were starting to soak her dress, making it nearly transparent. "And why not?" the man asked as she slowly pressed herself to his chest. "Because you desire me..." It was ironic how she was now turning his words against him, his accusation of her own want of him now a tool she put to his mind. Aragarte seemed to freeze, it was as if he realized he was no longer dealing with the same girl he had come upon in the pond. This was a different creature, but from what Suula could see in his eyes, he still wanted for her, just as much if not more. "Prove it," he finally said, and his tone seemed to say he accepted the game, the change in strategy and the shift in power. "Prove that you desire me? How?" she asked, feeling her heart beating hard again. She already knew what he would say. "Kiss me..." Suula didn't need to be told twice. She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips slightly to his, letting their mouths remain joined in the softest pause before pulling away. "Call that a kiss?" Aragarte said, but this time there was less teasing in his tone, and there was a much more serious cut to his voice. "Can you do better?" And he did. Aragarte took Suula into his arms once more, much like he had in the pool. He held her close as his lips moved over hers and gave her the same deep and passionate kiss he had shared with her before. She let her own hands do what they would, and they slipped up over his shoulders until her arms were around his neck. His white hair was wet at the ends, but she found her fingers stroking and pulling at it gently. Then, before she could stop it, he was lowering her to the soft grass that enveloped the pool's clearing, the carpet that kept the trees and the dead leaves at bay. As her hair spread out around her head, Suula's eyes blinked open. Aragarte pulled away, a hand stroking her cheek, his face still so close to her own. "What is it you are afraid of," he asked, "if it isn't kissing me?" "Everything else," Suula breathed, her hands resting on his hips now. She couldn't believe she had let him kiss her, and had just made such a confession. "You have never been to bed with a man," Aragarte said, and the look that came over his face was strange. For a moment, it looked as if he might pull away, but Suula kept hold of his hips, where his pants were pulled up but not yet fastened. "It is...what I was afraid of," she said with a small nod. "But I am not so afraid anymore." "I am Drow," Aragarte said, an almost bitter tone to his voice for a moment. "My people would by your age have known many lovers. What you are suggesting is that you have not had any. And what you are offering me is something too sacred for me to take from you..." Suula could have cried from the little tinge of embarrassment she suddenly felt. There was also the startling revelation that Aragarte of all people had standards. She had considered giving her virginity to one of the many human knights that came through town, trying to impress her with favours and beg for her blessing in their adventures. People had strange ideas of what elven kind believed in or were capable of. It had somewhat amused her to think of letting one of them bed her, like it was a gift. The lucky man would have carried that carnal knowledge of her around with pride, like a shield. And here she was, about to give herself to a Drow man, and he was rejecting her. It was too ironic for tears. Suula's Flower "Suula," Aragarte said, caressing her cheek and leaning over her more confidently now. "Are you going to cry?" "No," she lied, turning her head to the side as her hands dropped to the grass. She stared into the dark shadows, working hard to control her breathing. He was Drow, he didn't deserve her tears. In the corner of her eye, she saw him smile. "Yes you are," he teased. Then his lips were over hers once more, forcing her head to turn to his. Aragarte's hands reached for Suula's, moving them above her head and pinning them there against the grass. His kisses fell against her lips like the softest summer rain, a feeling she hadn't expected starting to well up in her belly. Her people knew of sex but it was said the Drow excelled in it, saw it as an artform. While her kind were known for their architectural masterpieces and complicated craftsmanship, the Drow were known for their poisons, their cruelty, and their addiction to sex. If they all kissed the way Aragarte kissed Suula, she could see why his people would indulge so often. And she would have to wonder why her own did not. As he pulled away from her mouth, she looked up to see him smiling. "I changed my mind," he whispered, "you are definitely worth the effort, and are definitely not as afraid as I thought." "Oh?" she said, nervous as she felt his hands drawing her dress up her legs to her hips. "Mmmhmm," he said, nodding as one of his hands smoothed across her belly. "But I still think you desire me..." He shifted his body to one side, keeping one of her legs between his own pant covered thighs as he rested himself on one of his hips. One of his hands held her own gently above her head while the other ran over the curves of her hips, going back and forth between each. "H-how can you tell," Suula stuttered as the backs of his fingers tickled the sensitive patch of skin beneath her navel. "Any number of ways," he said, looking into her eyes. "Your voice, the flush of your face, the shine in your eyes...and..." "...and what?" "This..." Aragarte's fingers slowly began to slide down Suula's body, moving from their playground beneath her belly button to the soft fur of her sex. He stroked over the dark hair that curled there before gently gliding his fingertips lower. Then he was cupping her sex, his hand turned so the swell of her privacy was pressed into his palm. Suula closed her eyes, feeling a tremble that began in her toes and moved steadily up her entire body, right into her brain. Secret feelings and sensations were unlocked within her mind, primal feelings and erotic sensations that can't be known to someone until true intimacy is felt. She could feel Aragarte's mouth near her ear now, whispering softly to her as he nuzzled his lips against the length of her earlobe. "This tells me how strongly you desire me," he said softly, his words a terrible croon that was threatening to seduce her soul. "This," he said with a squeeze of her sex, "tells me I was right. That like me, you have been thinking of the one other person in this gods forsaken village who could complete you..." Sulla opened her eyes at that and looked at him. As if feeling her glance, the dark elf looked back at her, his black lips twisted into a slight smile, a genuine smile that looked somehow odd on the evil visage of a Drow face. "You have thought that?" she asked, voice showing her vulnerability. "I have. As much and as often as you, I don't doubt." "How did you...how did you manage? It's been so long..." Aragarte shrugged, fingers stroking Suula's sex more intimately now, threatening to spread her wide. She closed her eyes, unable to look at him while he touched her so privately. Without being able to help herself, her thighs spread a few inches. That was all that was needed for the swell of her petals to part and his fingers to find what they had been seeking. "By giving in to the feelings you bring up in me... by thinking of you when I touch myself..." Suula gulped, eyes flying wide open again. "You...do that? I thought only humans did that." Aragarte laughed, his fingers pausing for a moment. Then he began to stroke her again, this time his digits delving deeper between the swollen labia of Suula's pussy. There was wetness there, and he expertly teased at the edges of where it began, causing Suula to squirm. "Any man who tells you he doesn't do such things is a liar," he finally said to her. "And when it comes to someone as beautiful as you, they would definitely have to be lieing." "Is it always like this?" Suula said, fists bunched in frustration at her sides. "Does it always feel this way, like an ache?" "Always," Aragarte whispered, lips back at her ear. "It always aches until the need is satisfied..." "Aragarte," Suula said softly, yearning in her voice. "Satisfy me..." Slowly the dark elf male moved himself over the other elf's body. He put his legs between hers, her knees forced to part further still as he moved between them. Then one of his hands was supporting him, pushing him up off her body while the other pushed his leggings down his thighs. "It will hurt," he said softly, "it has to, the first time." "I will heal," Suula said, though she was actually afraid inside. Why would it hurt? Was it the hymen? She knew the biology of her body, knew what would occur. But maybe it didn't have to hurt. Then he was pushing up inside her, and she was wincing as she dug her nails into his ribs. He couldn't be so big as to tear her entry, she knew that. But there was so much pain at first as he pushed himself inside her. Her eyes looked up into his, still squinting as she watched his face and the aroused expression that took over his looks. With a slow thrust, Aragarte pushed himself completely inside of Suula. She felt the press of his groin as he went balls deep into her sex. He was completely hilted now, and he held himself there tightly for a long while, as if to let her stretch, let her accommodate. His chin turned down and he glanced at her, studying her own expression. "Does it hurt much?" he asked quietly. "Yes," Suula said, stifling a sob. The pain was unnatural, something she hadn't expected. A pinch maybe, a little tug or tear perhaps. But not this. "Good," the dark elf said, moving his hands to hold her wrists down. "Because it is going to hurt more." Then he was moving faster. Up and down his body went, and he was proven truthful. The pain increased, and Suula began to cry, quietly at first and then openly. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The pain wasn't subsiding. It wasn't going away. It felt like Aragarte was growing bigger, larger, spreading her more than her body could bear. "P-please stop!" she begged, but he was grunting, moaning, making animalistic noises that kept him from hearing her. Suula wriggled under him but couldn't get free. "Stop! Aragarte, stop!" Thrust after thrust was forced into her tender body, her sex forced to take every inch of him repeatedly. She tried to fight him with her hands but failed, unable to even lift her own from the grass he had them pinned to. The dark elf above her began to hiss in time with his wicked thrusts. As he pushed himself deep into her and then withdrew, his lips pursed and he exhaled in a sharp snake like sound that terrified Suula. But there was nothing she could do to stop him. At last there seemed to be a cresting to the wave of passion the dark elf was experiencing. He pushed as deep into her as he could, deeper than ever before. Suddenly something, some part of him, exploded within Suula. She knew what this was. This was his release, his ejaculation, his cumming. That was his seed she felt pouring up into her body, seeking the depths of her womb, and then gushing and leaking out where their bodies joined. Aragarte began to pant, holding himself hard inside his unwilling lover. Suula still struggled but now she felt something else, something arcane and mysterious. It filled her body, making her lower belly heat like fire. Without being able to control herself, Suula began to move her hips. The man above her gasped, feeling the tightness around his cock suckling at his slowly softening flesh. He knew he should be growing hard but something had changed in the woman beneath him. "Satisfy me," Suula moaned, her hips pushing upwards against Aragarte's. What could he do but obey? He began to move again, watching the face of the woman beneath him. Suula didn't know what was happening to her. Why was she acting this way? But it felt so right, it felt good to have him inside her now. As he began to match her rhythm, the two of them moved faster and faster. Suula could hear herself grunting now. Her hands were pulling on Aragarte's bare back, drawing him to her hard every time she pushed her hips upwards. She wanted more of him, though there was nothing else for him to give. He started to move as fast as she was moving but she knew he couldn't keep up, not after his explosive release moments ago. Her hands slid down to his hips and held him as still as she could, while her own body writhed beneath his. She was the one in control, even if she was the one beneath him. She moved herself up and down his body, over his hardening flesh repeatedly. Then something shifted inside Suula and she saw brilliant rainbow coloured lights dancing and exploding in her mind behind her eyes. She could feel her very womb itself contracting and dancing in the depths of her guts. Just as Suula experienced her first orgasm, Aragarte had his second of their encounter, gasping in surprise as he found himself tugged forcibly into release. Then he had no choice but to collapse atop the pale and shaking woman, arms too weak to hold him now. Suula breathed heavily for several long minutes. Aragarte too remained still for some time, until at last he was prying his sex out of her own and pulling away to roll to the grass next to her. "My gods," he said softly, an arm thrown across his forehead. "They told me, but I never knew..." "Knew what?" Suula breathed, turning her head to look at him. In the darkness of the moonlit night, Aragarte's eyes were blazing, so red, like blood on fire. He smiled at her, then gave off a little laugh. "You mean your people never told you?" he asked. "Told me what...?" "What happens when our two races mate..." Suula blinked at him. "No. No one said anything about it, except...that it should never happen." She turned her face away from him, feeling shame. "This is unnatural. We are enemies." "Trolls are enemies with fairies but that doesn't stop them..." He laughed out loud when Suula's disbelieving gaze flew to his. "Of course your people wouldn't tell you," he continued, "because they would never want you to know what it is like...but my people talk of it all the time." Suula gulped hard, feeling a lump in her throat. "Am I...am I going to get sick? Or die...?" Again the other elf laughed. Slowly Aragarte sat up, leaning back on his weary hands as he tilted his head to the moon's glow. "No," he finally answered. "But the next time we have sex, it's going to be even better than this." "Than this?" Suula sat up as well, arms crossed over her belly. "This hurt..." "Ah yes it did. For both of us, though you wouldn't have known that. But it only gets better." He turned his head to her, smiling. "Sex with your own kind would not have felt like this." One of Aragarte's hands reached out and stroked Suula's cheek. She felt a blush rising up her naked body into her cheeks, and she wanted to tear her eyes away from his but couldn't. "This," he said quietly, "you will only have with me." "Are you telling the truth?" Suula asked, incredibly unsure of what he was saying. Aragarte nodded. This was one of the mysteries Suula had been seeking, one of the reasons she had gone on such a long sojourn away from her own people. There were things in life that seemed so unexplainable, and here in her lap there was another secretive fact, something she hadn't thought of exploring but would now become her obsession. "So, every time we have sex, every time we mate, it will be something...something that it wouldn't be with another elf of our own kind?" "Exactly." Suula lifted a hand to press over Aragarte's where he touched her cheek. She held his grasp there, her lips smiling softly at him, a conspiratorial smile. "I don't believe you," she whispered, finally letting go of his hand to lay back in the grass. "You should prove what you say is true." Aragarte grinned and moved over her slowly, nodding. "Mmm," he said as he moved himself within her once more. "I don't mind that one bit..."