Prisms and perception; my reality.

He watched with a gaze that was intense and hungry. The need was starting to burn in his eyes as well as just beneath what remained of his clothing.

The hot breath soaked through his fabric. His whole body shuddered in response. A hissing breath rushing past his lips. Coming out in a soft growl. She was teasing him now, and doing it on purpose.

Her tongue drew a line along his shaft and his knees tried to buckle. A last moment locking of the joints kept him from near collapse. It did not stop his lips from parting to whisper softly, heatedly. "Fuck!"

His eyes were slightly glazed over by the time they focused on her features again. He laughed quietly, though it was strained, scorched with heat. His voice rushing soon afterward.

"well I suppose one good turn does deserve another, doesn't it?"

His hands slid down, tugging the waist band of grey fabric and blue denim down slowly. Despite the nagging hunger gnawing at him he worked slowly to reveal hip bones, and the throbbing rod of male arousal beneath the fabric. Once past his hips the denim fell with the weight of trinkets kept in pockets. The undergarments went more slowly, but then they soon to were gone.

He was revealed to her. Strong, thick thighs, thick throbbing need pointing skyward between his thighs, neatly, cleanly trimmed. Shifting one leg then the other to remove fabric from around his ankles. Using a toe to hook the clothing, he kicked it away into a dark corner, forgotten.

The task had given him time to clear his head, time to gain control of rapidly running away arousal. With a slow grin he offered quietly.

"Better?"

Her eyes followed his compliance. Noting with satisfaction the arousal that came into view and the slight sway as it was released from the confines that had restrained them both.

“Much.” The triumph that glittered in her eyes was obvious. As was the barely reigned in want beneath it.

The control she exerted now tested her own patience. But she chose to delay her satisfaction as she reached for him. Cool fingers came to rest beneath the heavy weight of his balls. Cupping, gently squeezing, all the while she watched him, licking her lips when his prick jerked sharply in an open invitation.

Her mouth parted as she leaned in. Her fingertips sliding upwards, releasing the testicles to draw upwards along the length of his shaft. Her fingers caress the crown of his cock, coaxing that first droplet from him and smearing it over the head. Preparation for the meal to come.

Her lips completely missed where she’s certain he wants her to be. Instead she nuzzles his happy trail. Letting her nose brush against the patch of fur as she painstakingly follows its guidance. His length brushing her chin, then her cheek as she lowered to the base of his prick.

And there her tongue began to taste him. She drew a wet line, not unlike the meandering one she had suggested on his boxer-briefs. Salty. Male. Him.

He could read the heat in her eyes, feel it coursing through her slender form. He knew he was not the only one fighting the primal urges coursing through his body.

As her hand slid out to cup the weight of his balls he drew in a soft breath. His whole body jerked at the sudden rush of sensation. It had come as a surprise, but he quickly relaxed with a quiet groan.

He saw her lips part, felt her fingertips slide forward to position him and he drew in a sharp breath. An idle thought rushed through his mind. Could she feel the tension in his muscles? Feel the anticipation flooding through every cell?

She started to gather his excretion with fingertips and wash his skin with it. She bathed him in his own heat, only that wasn't all that needed. What she smoothed along his skin was something his body did frequently, the moment they had started kissing he had started offering small hints of his male scent. It was heavy in the discarded undergarments and scattered along his length.

His abdomen contracted hard, rolling in waves as her nose nestled into the happy trail. It was hard to tell where it ended and the hair covering his abdomen started. After a few waves of contraction and relaxation his stomach relaxed. He let out a soft sigh and enjoyed the feeling of skin on skin.

Then she shifted. She hit that spot just where the base of his shaft began and his whole body trembled. With a low groan his head fell backward, his hands resting on her shoulders, lightly digging into the skin. There was only one place on his length that was more sensitive than the one she had just hit.

Her tongue followed the path of his vein. A meandering road that she would stray and return to as she worked her way north. With a lathing circle around his crown, just to taste what she’d seasoned moments prior, her mouth took him in. She groaned, the rumbling sound stilled by her full mouth as she finally allowed herself to taste him like this.

It was probably much too brief for him. It’d merely been a suggestion, perhaps even a promise of what would come. But not yet.

Lips nibbled their way back down to where she’d started. She remembered his reaction and she returned there. Kissing, nibbling that place where he had responded oh so nicely. Her hand reached for the length of his shaft, starting a slow stroke while her lips busied elsewhere.

A sharp slap grounded him again, loud, not quite painful against his inner thigh. An unspoken command to give her more room. Her lips never left his skin, her nose buried in the trim cut of his fur as she drank in the smell of him.

As he shifted, she lowered herself further. Her tongue tracing its way down his balls. Wandering an aimless pattern for a few moments before her mouth parted to take one of his balls into the warmth of her mouth.

"Oh fuck me..."

He groaned out the words as she hit gold. It was near the end of his shaft, about a third of the length away from the throbbing crown that she found that magic spot. It sent lances of aching fire straight into his groin. He actually twitched right against her tongue.

As she made her way to the head there was a fresh rush of scent and flavor waiting for her as she closed her lips around the head of him. Letting out a shuddering breath, his hands glide into dark hair. Stroking the dark silk, offering a soft tug as he tried to drag and pull her down. He wanted that warmth to close all the way around him.

He gave a grunt of disapproval as she drew back.

She quieted him with her mouth as her lips sought out the base of his cock. All protest ceased and his fists balled up in her hair. He was not quite pulling, but at the same time there was tension in the long strands.

The sharp slap pulled him back harshly into focus. His eyes glittered, widening with indignation and were quite literally glaring at her. The trail of her tongue only managed to soften the glare, not erase it. She tugged a swollen testicle into her mouth and that was the only thing that kept her from getting a sharp yank in her hair. He was growling again and it was not from pleasure. He was pointedly ignoring the reaction his body wanted to give, ignoring the pleasure.

She took note of those little places that triggered so nicely. Making a mental note to return when she’d further explored the terrain of interest. It pleased her. To know that he enjoyed her ministrations. Those telltale signs as he twitched, the harsh draw of his hurried breath, the tightening grip in her hair, all told a story of his need and gave a lesson in pleasure.

When she released her captive, the yank in her hair was a sharp one. A jarring pain that brought her away from the task at hand.

The length of his shaft had blocked him from view, until now. Unhappy to be pulled away from her price, she looked up at him with the bewildered look of surprise. Confusion evident as to what she’d done wrong. She’d thought she had been careful... Did he not enjoy her ministrations?

His enjoyment or lack thereof was no longer an issue. She had only been following instinct but she had touched a nerve. He drew a deep breath and tugged her away forcefully as she released him. He had been more rough than intended, and he hoped he had not really hurt her.

He took a step back. His voice was iron, cold and hard. Something she had never heard from him before.

"You will never, ever put your hands on me like that again, clear? You will not like the end result. If you want something you ask."

He turned on heels, heedless of his nudity and strode off toward the bedroom door. His anger was tangible, and he tore at the knob roughly. The jam popped sharply and he put his head on the cool wood. He gathered himself, pushed down the anger, sought out calm and turned to her.

"C'mon kitten. We are not done."

Slowly, inch by inch his voice leveled, it calmed, the warmth trickled back into his tone, but not the heat.


*****************

Scene on pause.

Stashing for later use.

Thoughts and musings.

There have been rough patches but all in all things have been good.

The running diagnosis is not a good one, not one I wanted to hear but it is a direction to pursue. It yields potential and at least yields the ability to move forward. It allows me to refine the information I've been given, and seek possible treatment and maybe even some hope of improvement instead of a slow degradation.

Time to do some research.

Myopathy.

Name: Abdel Justarus

Age: 28

Features: Piercing blue eyes, sun kissed skin, dark hair, a short well kept beard.

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 185 lbs.

Title: Defender of the West Gate

Personality: Calm, focused, goal oriented. He values strength of spirit, body, and mind. Everything he does is planned out, thought out. He is always looking forward. While he will not endanger the innocent to further his goals, he is not afraid to use weakness of his enemies to further his own ends. He is adept at reading others through a strong sense of empathy. A strong sense of self worth makes him arrogant, and he maintains strong self discipline. His sense of right and wrong is quite clear cut, but he always weighs his choices against what is for the greater good.

Background: Born into the ruling family of what is now known as Cloud Crest his training began almost as soon as he could walk. All of the children of his line were trained in all forms of martial combat. Ranging from the way of the sword, to siege weaponry and large scale combat tactics. The last surviving child of his line, he was the only one to survive the final tests that the royal family is required to endure to stand in line for the throne. He already has three children of his own, two boys and a girl. The two boys have both entered training, while the young girl is still in swaddling. The royal line has a long history of polygamy to promote large numbers of children. The tests are grueling, almost torture in their own rite. Most children do not survive.

He has ruled for only four years. The first year of his rule was spent trying to reach an uneasy peace with The Sundered Lands. He gave notice that if this attempt at a treaty failed he would simply conquer and take what was needed. He looks ahead to a gathering storm, one that The Baroness of Pain refuses to believe. There are enemies more dangerous than a divided nation. It is his firm belief that the only way Cloud Crest and their neighbor will survive the gathering darkness is to stand united, and he is willing to achieve this by whatever means nessicary. So began his campaign to unite the land with sword in hand.

AWESOME!!!!!

*delighted giddy laughter*

*debates how that can be included in the very first post and what will need to change so that this background fits their larger story*

Luna_Wolf72 said:

AWESOME!!!!!

*delighted giddy laughter*

*debates how that can be included in the very first post and what will need to change so that this background fits their larger story*

Click to expand...

Drive by lick

We can hammer out more details. I am going to ramble a little more. The starters of an intro post or something. Let you get more of a feel for him.

Firmhanded_Daddy said:

Drive by lick

We can hammer out more details. I am going to ramble a little more. The starters of an intro post or something. Let you get more of a feel for him.

Click to expand...

*giggles*

I am still getting a handle on her...BUT I like the idea of him being the Ruler of Cloud Crest proper and wanting to take the Sundered Lands because of a larger threat. Makes the whole thing more...immediate.

*plots out more*

Rough start to an intro post.


****

The smell of wood burning wafted into his nostrils as the wind shifted. It also carried the groan of the wounded and the screams of the dying. The day was half spent and losses on both sides had been horrible. The fighting intensified as the pulse of the battle began to quicken. Like a wild cornered beast pulsing with adrenaline, knowing that it was time to lash out with claws and teeth, or die bloody.

The walls would come tumbling down today, everyone knew it, they could feel it. The air crackled with the desperation of men and women defending the only home they had ever known from a well known but hated nation. Back to the wall they fought like a badger locked in a pantry.

Most sieges had terrible costs to the men and women behind those vaulted walls. It was said by great generals that the best weapons were not ballistae and trebuchet, but starvation and disease. He did not use such tactics. It was the sheer strength of his host, his knowledge of tactics, and clever deployment of resources that would win the day, not letting children die in the street from plague. It was one thing to conquer a nation, it was entirely another to make enemies of that nation for generations to come. They would remember a small kindness and he would need their support soon. Very soon. So every night after the fighting was done and the swords were sheathed he left a wagon of supplies at a small service gate packed with food and medicine. At first the items simply went to waste, but eventually after desperation settled in and food stuffs dwindled they started accepting the supplies. Though they were always checked shrewdly for any attempts at duplicity.

His eyes turned westward, he felt an itch between his shoulder blades, like having a dull, rusty knife drawn over the vertebra. Shivering, he turned out of instinct.

The walls shuddered precariously and the native forces had brazenly led a charge to try and disperse his forces. A man who lumbered over him brandished a huge falchion that looked like it was hewn from enough steel to make a portcullis. Blades like that carried all the weight on the bevel, they didn’t leave wounds, they left remains. They were made to cleave a man into pieces, and clean up what was left with a sponge.

He focused on his surroundings, the feeling of the light sheen of sweat on his skin, the soft caress of cotton twill sliding over his skin, the rush of every bit of air being forced violently out of his lungs. Combat, especially the way he approached combat was like a beautiful dance. Each move was fluid, graceful, controlled. He could hear the blade whistling as it cleaved the air.

Everything around him seemed to slow, it didn’t of course but he entered a heightened sense of awareness. He could smell sweat mingling with iron chain links, unwashed skin, he could smell blood and corrosion on the blade. He could see the veins pulsing in that tree trunk thick neck. The invading ruler took a swift step left, planting his foot sharply. The other foot slid across the ground slowly. He could feel the grass under the thinly soled boots.

His right hand twisted as if pivoting on a hinge and flashed upward. His forearm struck the flat of the blade, not hard, but just enough to keep that lumbering beast of a man to keep from turning the blade into a killing stroke. The blade vibrating in the large man’s hand, it gave a horrible keening wail. That was the sound of metal vibrating, bending. The strike had not been forceful but it had been precise enough to strike the point along the blade that had been weakened from ill repair.

The large brute was unable to stop his blow, the blade hit the hard packed earth and jarred in his hand. It was the final straw, the wrong end of the fulcrum. The blade snapped as it sank into the earth. This further threw the big man off balance, forcing his shoulders forward as momentum sent him lurching.

Abdel reacted like a lightning strike. One soft soled foot pressing on the hands joined around the hilt of the blade, he pressed off the meaty limbs and sent his body skyward. The other leg curled upward, bending at hip and knee just enough to expose the point of his knee. It caught the big man just under the point of the big man’s chin.

The thick jaw clicked together, his teeth chattered. His eyes rolled back into his skull as his neck jerked backward in a sickening motion. He went down as if his spine simply ceased to be. A quick glance down was offered after the large man collapsed. Good he was still breathing. He tried not to kill unless it became the only option.

He flowed to the next man like water.

It was a shit day, has been a rough week to be entirely honest. I have been mulling over some dark thoughts for the past week or two. Some things that have to happen, but makes it no less easy to have done.

Pride comes before a fall.

I have been fighting, trying to find some way to get better, or at least fing a way to mitigate pain. Even if I had a job like the one I had before which was mostly sitting down jobs, but with the problems with my legs I was hving issues getting 2 and from the break room and from the parkingling area to my desk


I was good at the job, I went above and beyond. Doing both my job and helping orient and train new people coming in the door because we needed it. I actually enjoyed the job..

Lost it because the walk to from the parkinglot/break room was often enough to leave me exhausted, and hurting like hell. In the end something so simple was the end of my time there.

The time has come that I need to search for alternate forms of getting around so I can go back to work. It rankles my pride, a lot, but you have to do what you have to do.

I went to this doctor today and...pretty much lost all confidence in him. I went to him and he couldn't even remember the diagnosis he gave me last time. I need someone who is going to aggressively peruse my health problem. I don't need a doctor who is working so hard they can't even remember me.

Today was not full of positives. Ugh.

Firmhanded_Daddy said:

It was a shit day, has been a rough week to be entirely honest. I have been mulling over some dark thoughts for the past week or two. Some things that have to happen, but makes it no less easy to have done.

Pride comes before a fall.

I have been fighting, trying to find some way to get better, or at least fing a way to mitigate pain. Even if I had a job like the one I had before which was mostly sitting down jobs, but with the problems with my legs I was hving issues getting 2 and from the break room and from the parkingling area to my desk


I was good at the job, I went above and beyond. Doing both my job and helping orient and train new people coming in the door because we needed it. I actually enjoyed the job..

Lost it because the walk to from the parkinglot/break room was often enough to leave me exhausted, and hurting like hell. In the end something so simple was the end of my time there.

The time has come that I need to search for alternate forms of getting around so I can go back to work. It rankles my pride, a lot, but you have to do what you have to do.

I went to this doctor today and...pretty much lost all confidence in him. I went to him and he couldn't even remember the diagnosis he gave me last time. I need someone who is going to aggressively peruse my health problem. I don't need a doctor who is working so hard they can't even remember me.

Today was not full of positives. Ugh.

Click to expand...

Oh Hun... I completely agree... You do need a Doctor that is going to work with you, for you... one that will aggressively seek to treat you, and do everything he can for you (and not just give you drugs)....

And you need friends and/or family to help you find this Doctor, and to help you get thru this and get back "on your feet again" whatever that may mean to you. If it means using an alternate form of transportation to walking, that does not make you any less of a person, or any less of a man. It takes ALOT of strength to know when one needs help... and even more strength to accept that help.....

Look at it as, regaining strength to go back to walking normal distances. But again, using aides... whether that is a cane, walker, or wheelchair, does not and never will make you any less of a person, or a man.

The new year is approaching... look at it as a new start.. New Doctors (and always look to get a 2nd or 3rd opinion)... new mobility.... and the start on the road to gain back your strength and get a handle on the pain...

~HUGS~

Firmhanded_Daddy said:

It was a shit day, has been a rough week to be entirely honest. I have been mulling over some dark thoughts for the past week or two. Some things that have to happen, but makes it no less easy to have done.

Pride comes before a fall.

I have been fighting, trying to find some way to get better, or at least fing a way to mitigate pain. Even if I had a job like the one I had before which was mostly sitting down jobs, but with the problems with my legs I was hving issues getting 2 and from the break room and from the parkingling area to my desk


I was good at the job, I went above and beyond. Doing both my job and helping orient and train new people coming in the door because we needed it. I actually enjoyed the job..

Lost it because the walk to from the parkinglot/break room was often enough to leave me exhausted, and hurting like hell. In the end something so simple was the end of my time there.

The time has come that I need to search for alternate forms of getting around so I can go back to work. It rankles my pride, a lot, but you have to do what you have to do.

I went to this doctor today and...pretty much lost all confidence in him. I went to him and he couldn't even remember the diagnosis he gave me last time. I need someone who is going to aggressively peruse my health problem. I don't need a doctor who is working so hard they can't even remember me.

Today was not full of positives. Ugh.

Click to expand...

Remember.

You will....get better.

Firmhanded_Daddy said:

Click to expand...

The important word here is "gift"....

Some do NOT see it that way, sadly....

RainingHeat said:

The important word here is "gift"....

Some do NOT see it that way, sadly....

Click to expand...

True.

Guess it is good I am not among them.

Firmhanded_Daddy said:

True.

Guess it is good I am not among them.

Click to expand...

Very damned good.

I'd have to steal your voice box.

Cause assholes shouldnt have puddlemaking voices.

Its against Nina's law.

Sinks down heavily into a chair. His gaze distracted, unfocused. Just like his thoughts. A 5 year battle and a life time to go. Well at least he had a name now, at least he could form a plan. Picking up a pad of paper he scribbled two words into the pad and let out a deep breath. Tearing off the page he strode to the fire place and threw the paper in the flame. The words gave an eerie glow, a flickering last gasp as the heat overcame it. Fire did purify all.

Muscular Dystrophy.

The flames flickered and the words were gone. Then so was he.