Under Any Circumstances

'I can keep juggling these clubs under ANY circumstances'
'Any?'
'Any. Try me'
'Shall I?'
'Distract me. Go ahead,' Dustfinger grinned confidently.
'Show-off,' smirked Roxane, who was, fortunately, slightly more imaginative than Dustfinger.

It was ALMOST a pity that he was too innocent to see where this was leading, Roxane mused.

Once the idea of love-making was off Dustfinger's mind, he seemed to forget all about it until next reminded, absorbed in his fire-tricks or quiet musings. Roxane spotted an opportunity to have a game at his expense. Of course, it wasn't ever difficult for her to get the result she wanted (namely, to be flung down on their shared bed and pleasured by him until her screams frightened the neighbours) but this opportunity was too much fun to miss.

Roxane allowed him to fool about with the three juggling clubs, painted red-black stripes sent whirling energetically all about his lithe body, as she finished tidying away the evening meal. She discarded her apron and unpinned her thick black hair, giving the inviting effect of a coy, waist-length veil.

'Well, the knowledge that you were leaving me to tidy away dinner all alone obviously wasn't enough to make you stop playing with your little toys...' she began, one eyebrow raised.

'I humbly beg your pardon, my lady,' Dustfinger apologised with a smile, sweeping an exaggerated low bow whilst STILL keeping all three clubs in the air.

'...so perhaps this will halt you...!' she playfully chucked one of the spare juggling clubs at his pert backside.
Dustfinger's cat-like reflexes barely exerted themselves, elegantly dodging the missile AND incorporating the fourth club into his juggling pattern.
'Rubbish!' he cried, 'Try harder!'
'I'm biding my time,' she said teasingly, 'That was just a practise'

She casually edged nearer to him, gold-silhouetted in the firelight.
'How about if I....'
'Yes?' Dustfinger glanced round, curious.
' ....tickle you?!'
Dustfinger hooted with laughter, but simply switched three clubs into his left hand and swatted her away with the spare.

Roxane retreated, then sauntered over behind him and pressed herself curve-warmly against his back.

'And if I cover your eyes?'
Dustfinger didn't change the pattern a second, his never-fading grin constant as he continued.

'I guess not, then. Alright, what about this?'
Roxane wrapped a warm arm tightly about his waist, and stroked his cave-flat stomach softly through the thin-spun fabric of his tunic. She was close enough to hear his breath hitch as she dropped her fingertips down to the waistband of his trousers, then slid her fingers half an inch down.

One juggling club hit the floor.

'Oh, no, keep juggling, by all means...!' Roxane mock-exclaimed, her fingertips tracing tiny whisper-circles,'You're the great Dustfinger, after all, a talented artist of the highest order, and I wouldn't dream of stopping you'
'Mmm...that's alright, I'll stop anytime you like - it's only a game,' Dustfinger stole a too-quick-to-satisfy kiss over his shoulder, and felt a familiar, delicious swooping in the pit of his stomach as her fingers slid another inch.
'No, I really do insist. Continue, my dear, continue,' she commanded.

Roxane made a show of walking gracefully around the remaining three-club pattern to face Dustfinger, hips swaying seductively as they did when she danced. The wicked firelight and herb-wood smoke suited both their moods, framing thoughts of all things private and heady and sweet. Things that, once started, couldn't be denied, and had to be allowed to rage and burn out in their own hot, licking, glowing time. Dustfinger could control some of those things, caging the fire and mastering it- but he certainly couldn't control others, as Roxane knew herself from mornings-that-became-afternoons spent deliriously clawing Dustfinger's naked, arching back.

Roxane faced him. And with no hesitation or warning, slipped her bodice off her shoulders.

The firelight played over two beautifully well-formed naked breasts.

Dustfinger said huskily, 'I'd like to stop now, please'. He gazed longingly past the clubs with lust-dimmed eyes, breath starting to grow ragged. Roxane smiled slightly at the beginnings of an uncomfy-looking stiffness below his belt.

'I won't allow it. Continue,' Roxane said shortly, determined to tease him.

She wicked-slow removed each layer of her coloured skirts, showing glimpses of deerish ankles and coffee-shaded skin, turning on the spot and cheekily showing herself off from every angle. She slid a hand slowly up her own thigh, glancing dirtily back at him over her shoulder. Lust showed plainly on his face alongside his obvious amusement, and the worsening hardness at his trousers would have been embarrasingly funny- except that it was viewed only through the lusting eyes of someone who quite desperately wanted to take that hardness in their mouth and suck hard.

'Please,' Dustfinger breathed helplessly, watching her make a display of caressing herself.
'You already made your decision what you wanted your hands full of when you made your oh-so-clever boast...' Roxane grinned, shamelessly indicating exactly what his hands COULD have been full of.
'I've changed my mind'
'I bet you have'
'Have mercy. I may explode,' he attempted a brazen grin.
Roxane simply continued to pose and peer smilingly out from behind the midnight curtain of her hair.
'Roxane..' he tried to bargain, husky-low-voiced and stepping closer to her, 'Let me stop and I will do anything you like. I promise...I promise I will lick you hollow if you wish it. I'll let you tease me all you like if you'll just let me bed you this once first. I'll stay and make love to you every morning before I go out wandering, I swear'
'You will do all those things anyway. You always do. You like doing them'
'Oh, then won't you stop playing games with me....!? I don't give a damn about a hand-full of clubs'

Roxane pretended to consider this in mock-puzzlement.
'What's full of what?'
'My hands, you said,' Dustfinger smiled faintly, knowing she was leading the talk somewhere.
'Your hands? No...my mouth, I think'
'Roxane...,' he said quietly, dry-mouthed.

She ducked under the flying clubs and kneeled down in front of him.

'Yes, it's definitely my mouth that's full...'
'Roxane, please!' Dustfinger pleaded.

Roxane unfastened the front of his trousers.

'CONTINUE! If you deliberately put those clubs down, I'll stop immediately'

On the edge of his vision, Dustfinger could just see her little wet-pink kittens-tongue teasing him.

'I can't concentrate!...I want to just enjoy the feeling of you...of you....oh...'
'Don't be foolish now, my dear, it hardly matters what you do with your hands anyway, considering I'm all the way down here. And quite busy with my mouth...full'

And it was.

Dustfinger just about buckled at the knees, let alone kept juggling. It felt exquisite. Softness, heat and friction all merged into one glorious sensation that slicked amazingly up and down the end of his aching shaft. The sheer smoothness of an absolutely dripping wet mouth had no sensation to rival it in the world, the wetness removing any trace of pain from the friction and leaving only a million ripples of pure pleasure. He LOVED IT when she used her mouth on him, utterly LOVED IT, and she was so willing as well, as she apparently derived a considerable amount of pleasure from it herself (something about the satisfying solidity of the feeling, she said?). Roxane's hand was clutching at one perfect, jutting hipbone, and the other (much more importantly) was curling long, firm-finger strokes between his legs, and it felt wonderful.

She paused and sat back on her heels. Dustfinger hissed at the feeling of cold air on his damp, protruding skin. The juggling clubs were lying scattered about the rug and Dustfinger's hands were buried desperately in the back of Roxane's luxurious hair, clutching in worship of what she was doing to him.

She looked up at him and licked her lips with an expression of purest sin. Dustfinger swallowed.

'Oh, look. I made you stop juggling...'

'...Whoops,' she added forcefully, eyes ablaze, her naked body absolutely radiating anticipation, licking her lips like a tigeress.

Dustfinger simply dropped to his knees, hazy-dark eyed, infront of her, and devoured the mocking expression on her mouth. She pressed back desperately, having been thoroughly teased herself with the sight of him aroused and ready for her. Oh, this was blissful. His mouth blindly sought out her own eager one and he groaned unashamedly with relief at the softsucksoft strokingfierce lips and tongue silking arousingly over his own, and tasted and tasted and tasted, feeling as though it would never be enough. Dustfinger liked kisses. His mind became the familiar fog of lust, seeing nothing but Roxane and functioning all on sensations...

((....Such hot little hands roaming all over my back...oh, I like that. I like everything she's doing, in fact. I like these vampire-sharp-kisses all up and down my arched neck that show how eager she is and I like the buttons flying as we tear my tunic off and I like kneeling up pressing my aching length against her naked stomach ah yes that's good that's good and I like the catmewls and growls and whimpers she's making as I suck at each lovely breast, yes cry out again love, if it were actually possible for me to be any harder these cries would make me so...and she's such a tease that's why I love her but she only really had to ask because I'd do anything for h..oh do that with your clever fingers again oh oh oh I need you I need to be ridden and right now or sooner please oh please...))

'Sweetness...sweetness...' Roxane was moaning, almost to herself, her hands steadying on his slightly spread thighs as she moved to straddle his lap. He watched, stunned, mesmerised, intent upon the look on her face as she rubbed her slick entrance pleasurably up against his cock, almost torment-teasing herself with anticipation.

'Why torment yourself?' the words came out in a playful gasp as he firmly grasped one beautiful curved hip in one hand and pinched her throbbing center between finger and thumb with the other, 'I'm surely all yours'
'And thank gods for that, or I might die...,' she returned, breaking off into uncontrollable moaning as she was guided achingly slowly onto his rigid length with one hand, and rubbed firmly right on her sweetest spot with the other. The feeling of impalement on Dustfinger's beautiful cock was unbelievable, feeling each extra inch-by-inch part her further until his solid, solid shaft arched in a perfect fit against her own body.

And then he began to buck. Inside her.

The cottage had no glass windows, and fortunately so, for Roxane's howl of satisfaction as she finally experienced the sensation she'd been longing for might have broken them. She knew to let him do most of the work - there was actually a frightening amount of energy coiled up in his pale, wiry body and he liked to feel alive. Sex wasn't usually good for him until the heart hammered against the ribcage like it was trying to escape and the skin was slick with sweat and the final release was freely hollered out as nature intended. Dustfinger met her every thrust forcefully, despite the slightly tricky kneeling position, sweetly grazing past every tender nerve inside her and aiding her hips' rise and fall with trembling hands. Her ululating dancer's hips proved, on this occasion, just too much for Dustfinger to bear, and he soon felt himself irresistably tipped towards the edge of what would likely be a deep and glorious climax. He caught his breath between Roxane's cries, and paused to plead quietly:

'Can I finish...?'
'If you...promise to take me...again...later'
'As often as you like,' Dustfinger uttered weakly, before giving it another few violent thrusts that rapidly brought him nearer the point of no return. Roxane's damp body shifted on top of him and with a breathless grin at him she began muscle-tensing repeatedly around his by now incredibly sensitive cock, crush-hot and unbelievable, mercilessly crushing the tense-tight muscle-sheath so close and then releasing, sliding energetically against his substantial length. This was a particular trick of hers, only used on rare occasions where Dustfinger requested a faster release, for he was rarely a selfish lover.

'Honeysweet, how...how can I...be expected to last more than a second...when you FUCK me...like this?' he managed to splutter into her ear before breaking off into dizzy-broken gasping, nearly delirious with joy and thinking ((I'm only sorry it can't last the entire night because this is like heaven and yes yes yes faster oh Roxane I want to come inside you and yet don't want to come at all and finish this...ah! oh creature hold onto me for there is nothing lovelier than being clung helplessly to and gasp with me and scored claws on my back give a pretty-sharp-waking pain...))

A minute or so more of it and Dustfinger felt himself start to tip over the edge. Roxane allowed him to bury his face in her shoulder and breasts, both sharp-gasping with need as the dense thrusts grew intense in their frantic speed. Roxane shuddered with pleasure - the mere sight and sound (not to mention thought) of her own dearest Dustfinger coming screaming with joy right inside her had often sent her tumbling straight over the edge after him. The harsh gasping stopped abruptly in an shocked-sounding cry, and Roxane feverishly raised his head to look dazedly into his face as he grimaced his way through a deep-sharp, sudden and joyous climax...


+++++++++++++++++++


'On some levels, it's a reflection of my talents as a lover'
'And on others, it's a bloody awful reflection of my lack of them...,' Dustfinger apologised, really quite ashamed of himself. To use a woman for your own pleasure like that and then give her nothing back in return...it was a nasty, Basta-ish thing to do. He cuddled up close to his lover between the sheets, and resolved to be more considerate in future.

They had relocated to their shared bed - the little house was only small but the stone walls quickly lost their warmth after nightfall, even in summer. Lying in a hearth-rug heap in front of the glow-remains of the cooking fire was all very romantic, but after a minute or two of it, the passion cooled at roughly the same rate as the embers. Bundling up the scattered clothes and a rather shaky Dustfinger, Roxane had put the former ontop of the clothes-chest, and the latter between the fresh sheets of her bed.

Roxane was in a merry sort of mood, relaxing luxuriously into the soft bed and looking forward to being sexually amused by the attractive creature whose tangled blonde hair lay against her own on the warm pillow.

'So eager, Dustfinger? It's like you're 14 years old again. Not that I knew you then, admittedly'
'Let's please not discuss me being 14'
'Oh go on, let's discuss it! Was 14 before or after you did a certain naughty thing with that fairy that fancied you?'
'I should never have told you about that! It was wrong, and I've never done it again. It was also a secret! Remind me never to get drunk and have a heart-to-heart with you again'

'Mental note taken: Remind my lover Dustfinger to get drunk and have a heart-to-heart with me. Maybe he'll give me the next installment in the series and tell me what he did in bed when he was 15. I love a nice bedtime story'

'Well, there was this time the 93-year-old village crone made me up a salve for some burns I'd got making up a new fire trick, and I didn't have anything to pay her with, so I went back to her witch-cottage bed with her, and, well...I had to pay her somehow or she'd have cursed me pretty viciously'
'Dustfinger, you are joking, aren't you?'
'Of course I'm bloody joking! What do you take me for?!' Dustfinger made a disgusted face at Roxane across the pillow, and rolled over, adding in an even voice:
'I mean, that didn't happen until I was at least 17...'

'Uurgh, Dustfinger...!' Roxane burst out laughing and thumped him with one of the heavy feather pillows. There followed a brief and giggly wrestling match, each knowing perfectly well where it was leading but still very much enjoying the feeling of the puppy-ish play-fighting. In actual fact, Roxane possibly had the greater strength - 'a dancer' in her world was a far cry from 'a dancer' in the world Dustfinger would one day visit. Ballet was a form unknown in Lombrica, and curves often suited the dancing-styles better than bird-like tiny-thin frames (unless the dancer planned to go in for acrobatics as a sideline), thus Lombrican female dancers tended to have rather more womanly figures. Roxane was no exception. And Dustfinger, it had to be said, certainly had no objection to this as he was energetically pinned into place on his back and practically smothered when she leaned forward to pin his hands.

Roxane looked playfully down at him.

'I might just be able to forgive you your earlier selfishness, if you keep your promises to me...,' she said.
'Not that I expected you to mention that at this exact moment in time or anything,' smiled Dustfinger sarcastically.
Roxane quietly rested her full lips against his own: 'There was talk of licking me hollow, I believe,' she persisted in an almost-whisper.

'Oh, yes,' came Dustfinger's reply, in quite a different tone of voice, 'I remember...'