The Life and Memoirs of Lawler Miranos: Of Shipmates

	The salt air padded softly against the side of the ship and the evening sun beamed down warmly upon my face in a manner almost divine, or so I would think were it not for my destination. I had been aboard the Whalespawn, my own personal vessel and the last of my family's once great fleet, for a little over a month now on a route that would find me upon Aergraq’s deadly shores. Rumor had it that even the grass was alien, growing an unnatural blue-green though I tried not to think of such things.
	“You know, they say that only 3 of 10 sailors who stop on Aergraq’s shores make it home.”
	With a sigh and a crack on my neck, I turned my away from the momentarily calm water towards my near-constant companion of late, Alva, last born of the elven house of Lyhnaesa. She was seated on the deck with her back braced against the railing, calm as you please, her eyes shut and mouth pulled into a cheeky smirk. She was dressed well, considering her race, a pair of smoky red trousers down her legs, a strap hooking under a pair of short, black ankle boots. Her torso was cover lightly, a dual-colored bodice, one half a warm green and the other a dark grey, that was cut just above her breasts and left her arms and much of her chest exposed. As always, her robust Zwiehander was cradled in her arms, the pommel resting on the wood on which she sat and her arms hung lightly over the cross guard. I supposed she intended to look at ease, but I knew last night’s brawl was weighing on her, as she hadn’t even time to sleep before her morning began.
	“If it’s really so damn dangerous,” I called over, looking back from her leisurely form to continue steering the vessel, “Then why do you reckon people would buy out the Reich itself for voyage over?”
	I heard her snigger at me and turned back once more, “’Tis simple sir, because it’s so damn dangerous. They want to be the ones who uncover the Death Land’s secrets. It would make them rich, or more importantly, famous. What is it with you humans and always wanting to be famed.”
	She snorted, leaning forward to cross her arms and stretch, the movement serving to make draw his eyes towards her breasts, which her arms pressed together to make appear almost substantial. A few pale scars traced over her torso, likely caused by her time with her homeland’s military or sparring with her siblings; something I supposed was a bit of an elven household tradition. Not that I was completely certain she was, at least not full blooded.
	She had the ears –if a bit short- , and the pronounced hips and thighs, and even the small bust typical of an elven maiden; however, little things stood out: Primarily her eyes, both in shape and color. Most elves in my experienced had nearly luminescent irises, golds and greens and blues and occasionally even purple.
	Alva’s were instead a steely silver; bright, but not overly so, with a thin band of near-glowing white ringing her pupil. The also had a slight slant to them, which coupled with her sharp features and dark skin reminded me of a portrait of Potniamactír, the Goddess of the Hunt, who at once looked maidenly and wolfish.
	A particularly unsubtle cough drew me from my musings and I noticed those sharp eyes gouging into me, though the seemed dulled by lack of sleep. “Perhaps you’d like to share with me your thoughts, or I’ll start charging you for mental portaits.”
	I was plainly caught, but attempted pushed any embarrassment away with a sly grin, “’Twould depend, will they be the sky-clad ones of your homeland? If that is the case than I’d pay a Kings Head for it.”
	She returned my grin with her own toothy smirk, sharp canines standing out dramatically. “I’d think not, the last one I allowed the honor had me dismissed for ‘behavior unbefitting a lady or soldier’.”
	I often wondered at the specifics of her discharge, though I believed the gist to be that she got too close to a superior, and when they faced repercussions they instead did as most men of station did, shifted blame. The gain was mine however, as without her little indiscretion I would have found myself without a most apt bodyguard.
	“Send for Jauffry,” I said, turning back to the sea; the sun now beginning to dip below the water and splaying pinks and oranges and reds upon the water, “All your chatter is driving me to drink, and you could use some shut eye.”

-

	Sitting at my desk, a candle and what remained of the dusk sun through my window lighting my quarters, I alternated between scrawling lazy notes of heading and course in my log and a slightly oversized bottle of Mikonosian Soju from my private stores. I was unsure if it was the smell of the sea that night, or the thought of the battle the night before, but I found myself drinking more than I should. I knew when I did I would think of her. And that if I thought of her I would just drink more. Memories flushed into my head unbidden, and despite my best efforts I could feel her presence and the liquor both clouding my mind.
	Her cool, ivory skin on my back, small puffs of air as her breath touched across my skin. The smell of copper and the bite of the ropes. “Are you awake little lamb? Are you breathing?” Her voice sharp and smooth in my ear, “I know you have more blood than that, or we wouldn’t have this now would we?” Her nail gliding over my length, betraying me with its firmness.
	I planted my forehead firmly onto the wood of the desk in front of me, swearing and knocking my head against it once more. I was better than I was then, I was smarter, stronger, and I had power now. I took another deep swig of my glass, draining it. Even if my family’s name was in ruins, one ship left of the grand fishery.
	Her hand clasped around my neck, even as the smell of fish and salt filled my nose. I was used to the lack of air, I had learned to stop shaking when she slid her hand into my trousers. She didn’t care that my parents were in the next room over, that any moment a servant or employee of the fishery could walk in. I had learned well to guide my hand to the sheer muslin of her dress, pressing my fingers to her skin and feeling the heat and wet of her core. If I did well she might even relax her grip.
	The glass cracked and splintered in my hand, and I looked down as thin lines began to well with blood. Standing, my chair knocked to the floor as the entire ship heaved beneath my feet, or perhaps it was my own unsteady legs. Moving to my washtub I grab the towel as the droplets fell onto the dark, polished wood below. I was in no fit state to attend my wounds but I wrapped my bleeding digits in the cloth regardless.
	Small crimson beads slide down the length of my blade, finding their way slowly to my guard and splitting apart to trace the twisting metal that enclosed my fist. “Very good. I am genuinely surprised.” Cold steel piercing the meat of my thigh before retracting without pause. “But you let your guard down.” My eyes shifting to meet hers, mad with lust and unsettling glee. My saber coming up to meet her next strike only to find it feinted into a punch to the face with the metal of her knuckle guard. My gaze tracing her nude form  and fiery hair as stinging sweat blurs my vision. “I might just reward you for this.”
	That person was no longer me, I was strong now. I could fight. For twenty-three years I had fought and won and she was nothing. The neck of the bottle tight in my clutches and I pressed the door aside, the darkness of the deck betraying nothing of my passage. I pressed my lips to the bottle’s and another feeling of hot relief filled my belly before I dropped it with a muted thud. I wondered then where I was headed.
	The door closing behind me as I strode into her chambers, I catch a glimpse of her sleeping figure laying in blissful ignorance of my entrance. What little light there was disappears with the door but I find my way to her regardless. Even in my drunken state I find her wrists and hold her down. Who’s the strong one now? She begins to fight but her drowsiness offers her no forgiveness as kick the blanket off of her and climb astride.
	“Stop! What the hell are you doing?!”
	I shove my hand down her body gracelessly, finding purchase on her breasts, the ones she always teased me with beneath those nearly translucent dresses.
	“Lawler get off of me damn it!”
	I slap her face and my palm stings more than I expected, I have the power now. I control what happens.
	I press my palm against her throat, leaning in as her hands move to grasp it, her legs shifting to gain some point of leverage as one of my own slides between them.
	I shove her legs apart with my other hand and my knee, fingers gliding up her slit, feeling the musky heat there. “You’re mine now Áinfean. You don’t control me now.”
	“Get. Off!”
	At once I’m on the floor, my head reeling. “A-Alva?” I croak, making out a form in the darkness.
	A candle lights and it stings my eyes, my vision collects slowly upon the dark skin and white hair of my companion, bloody handprints on her cheek and throat and I look down at my own bleeding palm. “I-I…”
	“I think you should leave Miranos.”

-

        I had been keeping my eye on Lawler ever since he had hired me at Port Samhain last October, but now I watched him for a rather different reason. He was typically so boisterous, well-meaning but rather blunt at times and he had a knack for droll, deadpan humor. It went without saying that I admired the man.
        But now, ever since the incident one week ago he had been slightly… off, around me at least. He still treated Jauffry the same way, teasing and ordering the boy around, but never neglecting to admit when the boy did well. He was like an uncle to him, in a fashion, or a far older brother.
        He still played poker with Siobhan and Riley, and he still let Riley win to impress her. It was clear the cook was sweet on the girl and Lawler was not one to let such affections go to waste. I often fancied in my free time when I polished my Tvåräckte, or zweihander as the ‘Banders called it, that they might end up married someday.
        But for me he had no more witticisms or clever wordplay, our verbal sparring had waned and fallen into a one-sided string of abnormally sharp-tongued barbs on my end and emotionless gestures of understanding on his. I missed the repartee we once shared. And to think it had been spawned but such a benign occurrence.
        I would not say that Lawler was the first drunken man to crawl into my bed, nor that he was the first to call my by another’s name. But he was the first to do so that felt such guilt over it, especially considering that in my homeland he would have likely been stuck full of holes or had his gonads removed if such an act had been entirely unwelcomed; though, perhaps men of the Unbroken Band were not so keen as to pick up on subtle hints of letting him live non-emasculated as a sign of interest.
        He was a handsome man, his stubble and worn features oddly attractive; perhaps because they were unheard of where I came from. His figure was one of efficiency over finesse or overt masculinity, trim arms and stable legs. His torso was built of hard muscle honed through decades of struggle beneath a thin layer of fat earned by a lifetime of those same struggles paying off; it would be common for a girl to find such a built an easy sign of wealth. But despite his highborn physique he had the sense of authenticity that only a man born to the streets could possess, and even a foreigner like me could spot it.
        There seemed to be only one way in which to close the awkward distance that had settled betwixt us: I had to return his gesture.
        I waited for a moonless night as it allowed me to forgo clothing entirely for this endeavor, and while I felt no shame in going sky-clad many aboard would see it as uncivilized and un-ladylike.
        My eldest brother, who had been my tutor in many regards, had once told me that when human women wished to arouse a man they would bath in scented water and brush their hair with rare oils of rose and lavender and mint; however, in the absence of such things, simply being clean and well groomed would suffice in a pinch.
        Trotting out a basin and cloth, I spent the better part of an hour washing myself: Scrubbing the dirt and sweat from my muscle-hardened body. I had to admit; the entire event would have been much shorter had the combination of my own gentle administrations and the thought of what I had planned not distracted me with slow, teasing massages across my breasts and deep, intimate cleansings of both of my lower orifices to insure that whichever one he decided to use would be sanitary. By the time I had finished it was just dark enough above decks to make my way from my cabin into Miranos’s without being seen.
        Closing the door softly behind me, I listened for the shallow, even drone of breath to insure me that Lawler was indeed asleep. I took the liberty of lighting the lantern that he kept on his desk, which my time aboard the ship as his bodyguard had allowed me to find with ease. I knew the room in which I stood intimately and could have easily navigated it without the light, but something about the dim light invoked some deep-seeded exhibitionary need to be seen and I knew well how poorly human eyes saw in the dark.
        It was then I began to contemplate the logistics of my act, as any good commander would in my position. Finally I settled for the practical approach, one born of both necessity and convenience. Before I could progress with any form of sexual connection, I had to make him hard, and I knew a rather surefire way in which to do it.
        Maneuvering to his bedside, I knelt down and gently uncovered as little of him as I could while still having access to the location I needed. He typically wore only a long nightshirt to bed, and it was easy enough to shift is up and over his waist.
        I had to admit, the hair was a shock, the men of my homeland were typically absent of body hair and even half-elves tended to lack much beyond facial hair and occasional chest hair. I would later learn that Lawler trimmed his for hygienic reasons, and I shudder to think of what it would look like unattended; regardless, I slowly ran one hand, fingers outstretched, through the hair there and teased the edges of his stomach and thighs. I intentionally neglected the shaft and testicles, and busied myself with learning and memorizing the details that surrounded them.
        Without realizing, I had lowered my head near to his flesh and I could smell his unique and alluring scent with each breath I took. It was intoxicating. I had long since come to love the smell of man, and the smell of a human male was twice-fold as pungent.
        Unable to resist myself much longer, I ran my free hand up his thigh, over his balls and took his yet unextended length in hand. With a slow and gentle ease I brought my lips to it, planting a few light kisses upon if from base to head before leaning in further and in one long motion pressing my tongue to the base of his sack, tasting his sweat and skin, and licking up to its tip. I could hear his breath hitch and begin to accelerate even as he slowly extended under my wet tongue.
        With one hand I slowly continued to massage the area around his manhood while with the other I stroked him to his full even as I wrapped my small mouth around the head of him. Sucking softly, my tongue stroking the underside of his shaft where it connected to the darker cap atop it, I could feel him begin to shift in his bed.
        Normally I didn’t pay a man’s cock so much attention, but scent and the taste of it was making me wet with want, and I couldn’t help but worship this tool before me. Bobbing slightly, my jaw began to ache and I regretted my family’s genetic tendency towards small mouths, even if it did suit my face. I wanted to take him inside of me proper, but before that I wanted to attempt one more thing.
        Pulling off of him slightly, I took a deep breath, mentally measuring his length and thickness. He was nothing to sniff at, though thankfully not the largest of partners I had had, as that had just ended up being uncomfortable for the both of us. Taking his head once again betwixt my eager lips, I took another breath and closed my eyes before lowering down upon his shaft. It was a tight fit, no doubt, and I had to work hard not to gag as his tip pressed against the back of my throat but finally I felt my nose press into the hair above his cock and I took a deep breath through my nose and I could feel my wetness drip down my thighs.
        I had to have him.
        Rising off of him, I welcomed gladly the ability to breathe out of my mouth once more, as well as the slight ache in my jaw that meant a job well done. Taking to my feet I carefully crawled atop him, my thick thighs spanning his hips and my greedy slit visible open in the dim lamp light I watched a droplet fall from me onto his still-wet shaft and I knew I wanted him inside me, and I was certain he wanted me as well.
        After all, he had intruded into my room that night, he had started this all one week ago. This time he would remember my name.
        Lowering myself slowly, I felt his manhood nestle just between my lips, and I rocked my hips slowly, feeling it tease and prod at my core. I bit my lip, an attempt to stifle the moans that pushed up from inside of me, wanted to let loose noise to match the surging vortex of stimulation I was causing myself. And then, in one fluid motion, I impaled myself upon him and I had to physically cup a hand over my mouth to silence myself. I was certain that had I not had such lower body strength my knees would have given out from under me.
        I took a moment to adjust to the feeling, the wonderful weight within me, filling my and giving firm resistance to my tight internal squeeze. It was hot and hard and delicious in the way it’s slight curve massaged my sheath. Lawler began to toss slightly, mumbling something to himself, and I realized that in my ecstasy I had brought him slowly to consciousness.
        Despite my body’s demand that I move and explore this wonderful feeling inside of me, I knew I had to keep my head if I were to be successful in my endeavor.  Placing my hands upon his wrists, I gently guided them above his head, holding them there even as I leaned across his body, gravity giving the illusion of size to my modest breasts. Sliding slowly off his cock, leaving only the head within my hot, sodden folds, I whispered softly into his ear.
        “I’ve come to meet your challenge.”