A Bard's Prophecy Part 2

"That wouldn't have hurt in a dream, would it?"

Why had that small pain made him so hard he wanted to spill his seed all over her before he even tasted her? Years. It had been years he'd dreamed of her, wanted her, needed her.

The fine, tight lines around her eyes betrayed her. She was unsure of herself, still. She, who was perfection incarnate, doubted.

Her doubt gave him confidence. No matter how perfect her body, her heart was the heart of a woman. Not just any woman. The woman he had been in love with for two decades. He reached out to tilt her chin up with one finger. "Takuri, look at me."

Her gaze flicked up toward his, then tried to roam away again.

"What's wrong?"

"You-I never expected-you've grown up, Balthain." She swallowed hard. "Look at you. You-you're perfect. You're at your peak. You look like a G.o.d. I know you to be as intelligent as you are pleasing to the eye. You should be with a mortal woman. One of your own. Not some old dried up husk who has squandered her life chasing one dream after another."

"I have loved you since first you came to me, Takuri. I have had mortal lovers. Women who have come to me, and gone again. They could not compare with the ideal of you. You were in my mind as you are, my perfect mate."

Perfect...she mouthed the word, almost a question, as if trying it on for size. As if trying to remember a time when she'd felt perfect.

A surge of primal l.u.s.t shot through him. She was his and his alone. He would possess her as no man ever had before. They had, perhaps, two hours before the ship would dock at City of Port. No reason to rush things. He would take the doubt from her. He could heal the wounds that had put it there. If... "Do you trust me?"

She looked startled at the question, but she didn't hesitate to answer. "With my life. With my daughter's life."

"I want to see the rest of you."

She blushed-a stain of bright red across ethereally pale skin-hesitating before she waved her hand. The tattered tunic gave up its hold on reality.

She stood before him naked, letting him look his fill. Smooth, glowing alabaster skin hugged a body that had seen too few meals of late, but still held enough curves to make his mouth water. Short silver hair that looked as if she might have hacked it off with a small dagger framed her face. Somehow the haphazard look of it suited her well enough. The face itself might have belonged to some mythical creature-so small and delicate and nearly transparent she looked almost childlike.

He would have expected her to be dirty after the filth he'd seen in his vision, but the magic had burned her clean and pure as the driven snow. He wanted to touch, to take, to consume, but she needed more. She needed to be worshipped.

He let his fingertips brush slowly over high, arched cheeks, along the edges of her hairline and down to frame a delicately pointed chin, then down again, outlining the long, slim neck, then out to the edges of two fine-boned shoulders. He could see her pulse shivering against her throat. He'd made love to her so many times in the dreaming. But this was real. At least he thought it was real. She felt real enough. His c.o.c.k believed she was real.

For a brief moment he thought to ask her, but 'twas better not to know. If she was going to fade away again he'd rather not know.

Balthain touched his lips to the pulse at her throat, feeling the steady flutter that matched the rhythm of his throbbing c.o.c.k. He leaned in just enough to let her feel his pulse throbbing back again, pressing the thin fabric of the loincloth he slept in against her, letting her feel the need that burned for her.

He held her for several long moments, until her hands rose to sweep through his hair, sending shivers down his spine as she raked her nails lightly against his scalp.

"Balthain."

Her breath against his ear shot hot tendrils of desire curling through his c.o.c.k. He kissed his way down, across the slight V where her chest began to swell into the gentle rise of her breast. A soft moan escaped her throat as his lips grew closer to his target. "Is there something you want?" he teased.

"Anything. Everything. It's been so long. The dreaming was good. But this-to actually feel you, touch you-it's too much. It's not enough. I want everything at once. I'm afraid I'll wake up and you'll disappear again!"

He brushed the loincloth aside, pressing his tortured c.o.c.k against her smooth, naked skin, letting her feel his desire pulsing against her belly. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll not let you go. Never again. I've waited for you for years. You're mine. I'll never let you go."

She cried out as he circled her areola with the tip of his tongue, just flicking at the nipple, teasing her with his nearness. She had other things in mind. Her hands in his hair tried to hold him captive as she lifted slightly, pressing the nipple itself toward his lips. With a chuckle he sucked the elongated point into his mouth. Her hips curled against him convulsively, pressing her mons upward against the heat of his c.o.c.k.

He'd learned the rewards of patience early in life. He'd had a great teacher. Nothing like life in a wh.o.r.ehouse to teach a boy to conserve his energy. He leaned into her embrace, swaying his hips slightly left and right, enjoying the friction of their colliding textures. Burning need against sensitive skin. Soft curls against the hard length of his c.o.c.k. Warm, willing woman shivering in his arms, but not from cold.

The nipple between his lips grew under his touch, lengthening and thickening, growing harder, yet opening at the tip like a flower blooming when he probed it with his questing tongue.

Some part of his mind urged him to forgo patience and plunge his c.o.c.k into her now, give them both what they wanted, before the casters' meeting broke up, and Tyrell returned to claim the upper bunk, but he quieted the voice. 'Twould not be the first time he'd put on a show for an audience. Tyrell could watch if he felt so inclined.

"Balthain..."

He chuckled against her nipple, still sucking and stroking in long, easy sweeps. Her hands slipped down to his shoulders, her grip changing to one of strength and purpose. Her weight shifted to one foot as the other snaked its way up, curling around his thigh as she tried to push herself onto him. He would have laughed in earnest, but the nipple in his mouth required constant attention. Instead he slid his hands down her backside until he could support her slight weight with both hands under her a.s.s, lifting her free of the floor, settling both legs around his waist, his c.o.c.k still trapped between them.

Balthain shivered as Takuri set about exacting her revenge, kissing him everywhere she could reach.

He'd never known the feel of a woman's lips wrapped over his eyebrow could make his c.o.c.k dance. But this was not just any woman. This was the Succubus, his Succubus, the woman he'd dreamed about and l.u.s.ted after since he'd first known the meaning of the word. As her sharp little teeth nipped at the corner of his brow ridge, he almost forgot his slow torture in favor of sinking his hot, needy c.o.c.k into warm, willing woman flesh.

No. He could not let her distract him. This was too important. She had to know she belonged with him, to him, had to know her body would want only him. This was not the time to rush things.

Balthain loosed the nipple he'd been feeding on. Takuri wailed, thrusting it back at him, but he had another quarry. The bunk had been built for humans. Or rather a human. He barely fit into its too short length.

There was nothing else in the small pa.s.senger's berth. Nothing but the wall. A wall lined with hooks used to suspend gear and clothing. A few of the hooks sported leather straps to secure bulkier items. There were rings in the ceiling, too, to support a spare hammock. He plastered her against the wall, holding her there with his body pressed against hers, while he considered the possibilities.

She'd been a prisoner for years. He didn't want her to feel subjugated. Not by him. But there were other ways... "Greedy little wench, aren't you?" he teased.

"Yes!"

She took that opportunity to wrap her arms around his head, pulling close enough to kiss him properly. He almost forgot his mission as her hands tangled in his hair, her tongue teasing his in a game he enjoyed losing. Still... He pulled back, smiling down at her.

"Do you trust me?" he asked again.

Her eyes darkened, questioning. "You know I do."

"Enough to know I would never hurt you? Ever?"

"I-yes. Of course."

"Takuri, if you're frightened, or you don't like what I'm doing, all you have to do is tell me to stop. I promise if you say stop, I will."

Fear and excitement warred in her eyes. "Stop. I can remember that."

As if she knew what he was about to do, a small shiver raced over her skin. His fingers made a leisurely journey from her a.s.s up over the curve of her waist and on, to capture her hands in his. He lifted them above her head, holding both of her hands in one of his, while he wrapped one of the leather straps around her wrists, leaving the ends long enough to tie together through one of the hammock rings.

Her breathing quickened, coming hard and fast now, and her eyes widened, the pupils large and dark, but she wasn't screaming in terror. He kissed her again as he lifted her hands high enough to tie off the ends of the leather strap, securing her tightly to the ring in the ceiling. Her nostrils flared, but she didn't try to fight him. Which was a d.a.m.n good thing. He could hold the woman, in whatever form she came to him. The great blue Dragon was another story. If she panicked...

Takuri didn't try to fight until he stepped back. Then her legs clamped around his waist, seeking to hold him as she suddenly twisted in her bonds. He gently untwined her, pulling away gradually. When he stepped away, she realized her toes barely brushed the floor. She could either support herself, or keep trying to reach for him. She stood staring at him, her eyes wide, as he backed up enough to really look at her.

She was everything he'd ever wanted. So powerful. So dangerous. Yet she was his, held captive as much by her love for him as by his thin leather bonds. He untied the loincloth, letting it fall from his waist, so that he stood before her naked. "Do you know how hard I get just looking at you?"

He slid a hand down to cup his b.a.l.l.s, rolling them slightly to ease the pressure. She whimpered as he stroked the other hand slowly, deliberately, over the length of his c.o.c.k. "You do this to me. Just thinking about you does this to me."

He stroked himself slowly once again, so hard he could have come just from looking at her. He thought about relieving himself while she watched, knowing he'd recover long before she was ready for him to sink into her, but he could wait. He was making her wait, after all. Instead he squeezed, hard, at the base of his c.o.c.k until he felt his b.a.l.l.s relax just a little.

One leg lifted to try to wrap back around him as he stepped closer to her again. He captured her leg in the crook of his elbow, helping to support her slightly as he kissed a path back down to the nipple he'd neglected, pausing there to give it the treatment he'd laved on the other one.

Still she shrieked when he lifted her leg over his shoulders, dropping to his knees in front of her. At the first touch of his hands against her springy curls, parting her lips so that he could see what he was about to taste, her hips curled up toward him, shuddering with need. He spread her wide like a banquet, blowing a soft stream of warm breath over her swollen pink flesh. But he didn't stop there. She shrieked again as he turned toward her thigh, nipping her gently on the soft inner skin.

He blew his breath out over the small red mark his teeth had left. "I don't care about your past lovers. I am the one you'll remember. Hundreds of years from now, I'll be the only one you remember."

"Yes," she agreed. "Only you. So don't force me to kill you."

"Patience, my love.Patience." He kissed his way slowly down to the faint hollow at the back of her knee, laughing as she curled her toes around behind his head, trying to coax him closer. "You have beautiful skin. So smooth. So soft. It's almost magical."

She grew still at that, her foot no longer tensed against the back of his head. "It is magical. I-I took this form because I thought it would please you."

"Which form pleases you, Takuri? Is there one you favor more than others? "

"You might not find the others so attractive."

He stopped to admire the shapely sweep of her calf, fascinated by the shift of the muscles beneath the skin as she reacted to his kisses. "Who you are is not merely what you look like. I want to see all your forms. I want to make love to all your forms."

"No you don't. ASidhe can take any form. I can be any living sentient thing. You would not love the Troll, nor the Orc. And I can't see you with a bearded Dwarf woman."

He grinned at that. "I don't know. I've never made love to a Dwarf woman."

Her voice dropped so low he could barely hear her. "I could be Clan Bear for you, Balthain."

"Aye, I'm sure you could. That would be fun. Especially if we shifted together. But I don't want you to be someone you're not. I love you for who you are." Still, it would be a bad time for her to shift back to the Dragon, with her small, delicate toes curled against his hand as he kissed the arch of her foot. She shivered, but she did not shift. He smiled to himself. He would face the Dragon. Eventually. 'Twould not hurt him for once to be the smaller one of the pair.

Her foot nearly jerked out of his hand. He looked up, watching the quick rise and fall of her chest as she fought for air, her eyes squeezed shut and her head thrown back as far as she could. "What have we here?" He laughed as he ran his thumb over her instep, watching her squirm under his touch.

Little mews of protest escaped around the lip she had clamped between her teeth. Balthain grinned up at her, her foot cradled in his hands. "Is there something you want, my love?"

"Yes, d.a.m.n it! I want to feel your c.o.c.k buried within me! "

"But you're not in charge here, are you?"

She rocked forward, her mons invitingly near his head as he knelt at her feet. Too close to ignore. He let her foot escape, catching the other one up as she shifted her weight off its straining toes. Tight. She'd been working too hard to keep her weight off her wrists, to give herself more freedom of movement. He stopped to ma.s.sage the abused foot, watching her eyes slip shut as she groaned at the combined pleasure and torture. He needed to keep her off balance, distracted, focused on him. Should she remember that with one moment of thought she could shift to a form that might easily overpower him...

Balthain smiled to himself as he kissed his way back up to her mons. He was young. He was strong. He was well trained as a Warrior and as a street fighter. He wouldn't mind taking on the Dragon in a friendly wrestling match. As long as she didn't barbecue him.

He thought she might as he returned his attention to the small patch of fur between her legs. She struggled as he slipped both legs over his shoulders, fighting to pull him closer, faster, trying to press her mons against him. He used both hands to spread her wide, watching the soft pink flesh turn bright red before he even touched her.

The first long, slow lick had her writhing, her heels clasped hard against his shoulder blades. By the second lick she was shuddering against him, whimpering as she twisted, trying to get closer or pull away, he wasn't sure which. He rimmed her opening with the tip of his tongue, teasing, before he slipped forward to taste the flood of juices that greeted him.

His c.o.c.k hammered at his belly, demanding attention. He could feel the drip of pre-c.u.m trickling slowly down towards his b.a.l.l.s, designed, he was sure, to drive him insane. He thrust his tongue into her harder, no longer teasing, but demanding now.

Her breath came in whimpered pulls as she thrust back against him, lifting herself toward his touch. He flicked his tongue over her once again, then switched his attention back to her c.l.i.t. It was almost completely hidden now, drawn in deep and tight. He teased the underside of the small hooded shaft with light strokes, then circled the base before he slipped his lips over her to suck gently at the hard little nub.

She screamed as she came, something incoherent but loud enough to let anyone who might be listening know he was no longer alone.

Good. Let them wonder.

Unless of course her screams attracted unwanted visitors. The last thing he needed was Dahlai bursting in the door to find her mother tied to a ring in the ceiling. The girl was nearly an adult, but still, this was her mother...

He knew d.a.m.n well he hadn't locked the door. He'd left it open for Tyrell. He didn't mind putting on a show, but he d.a.m.n sure didn't want Dahlai in the audience!

Chapter Three.

Balthain stood, Takuri's legs still wrapped around him, reaching backwards awkwardly to throw the bolt. The sense of risk hadn't dimmed his arousal. If anything he was harder than ever. Urgency pushed at him. What was he waiting for, anyway? He would have her. Now.

He slipped her legs down until only her heels clung hooked over his shoulders, leaving her folded almost double as he pulled her hips closer. Supporting her with one arm under her a.s.s, he reached up with the other to untie the tether from the ring in the ceiling. Her bound wrists fell over his head, pulling his face toward her kisses. The sense of urgency mounted as her tongue sparred with his. He pushed her back against the wall, guiding his c.o.c.k into her with a shaking hand.

There was no such thing as control with this woman. She tore him apart and rebuilt him with every touch. Deeper, deeper he slid into her, moving slowly, carefully, to make sure he didn't hurt her, but she took all of him, pulling at him with her hands and her heels, demanding all he had to give. It was like sliding a heated rod into the armorer's forge. Heat into heat, so intense, threatening to scald him with her white-hot flames. More. He needed more. He rocked back, the cool ocean air hitting his c.o.c.k as he pulled out of her, only to thrust back in. Desperation drove him harder. He needed more of her. He didn't want this to be over, but he needed...

"Yes!" she hissed. "Now, Balthain! Now!"

Harder. Faster. In and out. Cold and hot. Hard friction against smooth skin. With each stroke he could feel the coa.r.s.e hair of her mons tangling with the fur at the base of his c.o.c.k, could feel his b.a.l.l.s slap against her. Harder. Faster. Hotter. She clenched around him, trying to hold him, then rocked, pushing him away, the backs of her thighs pressed against his chest. The sound of their s.e.x reached his ears, wet, sucking noises as he thrust and pulled back, her moans of pleasure and torture, his own little grunts of frenzied desire.

He wanted, needed to shift. She could be anything. Surely a Bear was no more challenge than a Dragon. The rational part of his brain argued that such a thing was no possible. Not here. Not now. They wouldn't FIT. The room was too small.

Her o.r.g.a.s.m built, a tightening around him that became more, urged him to push harder, deeper, until the heat between them exploded and she screamed out his name. He kissed her as she screamed, swallowing the sound, holding, quivering within her, while she burned hot as a forge-fire under his hands, then slowly cooled.

Lifting her free of his c.o.c.k, he placed her bound hands on the lower bunk's footboard. He grasped her hips as he rammed himself back into her, grunting with each thrust as he battled the need to shift. The bed shook with the effort of his thrusts, despite its firm anchoring to the wall. He hammered into her, straining, wanting nothing more, now, than to empty his seed into her. The need to shift was as strong as the need to come, but there was barely room between the end of the bunk and the ship's outer wall for the man. He roared out his frustration, pounding relentlessly, knowing even as he did that it would not be enough.

"Bears-come in-different-sizes!"

Balthain had to concentrate to make sense of Takuri's words. Not exactly something he was at his best at right at this moment. Different sizes? Well, some were probably better hung than others, but-Oh! The bears! Not-he laughed as he remembered the brown bears they'd seen near City of Port. Small bears. Almost miniatures of themselves.

The shift was so smooth, so seamless, that it came almost without thought. One moment he was laughing, pounding into his intended mate with the ferocity of a s.e.x-starved, battle crazed Warrior, and the next he was a smallish brown bear, his c.o.c.k buried deep in the sheath of an even smaller brown female, with long, glistening fur that was just perfect to sink his teeth into. He opened his jaws wide, grasping her by the back of the neck, his paws pulling at her shoulders as he slid his long, thick shaft into the tight, wet depths of her c.u.n.t.

So tight. So needy. She strained against him, taking in his length and grasping him like a fist, trying to lock him in her channel with each stroke. His b.a.l.l.s, already farther back now from the c.o.c.k that hung tied to his belly, felt so hard and tight he was sure they would explode any minute. Frantic, urgent need made him less careful than he might have been, pulling at her with paws and teeth as he fought to plant himself in her, then fought to pull free again. The tight clench of her walls around him drove him over the edge, his pace that of desperation now, hard and wanting, each plunge coming hard on the heels of the last, a frantic piston working in and out, in and out, reaching for oblivion.

More. More! His hips bucked against her, driving, demanding. He could feel the change in her, feel her stiffen, her back legs stretched out under him, pushing her hips hard against the ridges of his pelvis. More. More! Her sheath tightened around, milking, demanding. Fierce need gave way to pleasure almost too painful to be borne, wave after wave of shooting stars colliding in his field of vision as he spilled his release into her waiting body.

When at last their tense muscles began to relax, he kept his paws locked around her, cradling her as he dropped to the floor, his c.o.c.k still buried within her. From this vantage point, lying on his back with the weight of her cuddled in his arms against his belly and chest, she didn't look so tiny. She was a bear, sure enough, with all the strength and power that went with his species. Just smaller. Small enough to fit in a-a more confined s.p.a.ce. Like a ship's berth. Or- Once the laughter started, he couldn't stop, even though to an outsider 'twould have sounded more like insane snuffling.

"What?"she snuffled back, her own voice tinged with laughter.

"How?"

"How?" Her snuffled response sounded puzzled.

"Small Bears. You? Magic?"

She stretched against him."You thought it."

So. He'd done this himself. He laughed again. He'd never tried to be anything but a Grizzly before.