Adventurers adventuring adventurely

Corran Darstin - Attractive young man trying to be an adventurer, armed with a magical sword he sto--found abandoned.
Sigrid Hexenhammer - a grizzled silver haired vampire hunter

[21:18] Corran Darstin sits in the tavern all alone, drinking a mug of a light cider, looking around the room. It isn't night, when things get raucous and excited and people drink and sing. It's the middle of a late autumn afternoon, and people with actual jobs are off doing them, which only leaves the adventurers and brigands. The young man with the blond hair and the sword on his hip sits there trying not to let anyone know he's looking at them as he glances around, the place quiet except for the scrape of cups, the sizzle of mutton on the griddle, and the sounds of a card game going in the corner. No one looked particularly interesting. A fire crackled in the hearth, trying to stave off the chill breeze that came through the doors. The young man with the flaxen hair watched the tough mountain of muscle chewing a slab of meat with his bear hands, all worn and battered. He watched the old crone laying out weather cards, her nose crooked and her face leathered, a rag over one eye. And he noticed the striking woman with silver hair, then she looked up at him, and he turned red and looked down to his drink, hoping she hadn't caught him staring.

He was shaken out of his embarrassment when a large hand clapped down on his shoulder and a gravely voice demanded "What are you looking for, milk drinker?" He turned the boy around in his seat and pressed him back against the table. "Fancy sword you got there, isn't that a little much for a nobleson's toy?"
[21:32] Sigrid Hexenhammer: That's how it had started the day before. The thick-headed oaf had seen something shiny and decided he was going to try to take it, but, marks for the lad, he was made of sterner stuff than to meekly hand it over to him. One eye and a matching number of teeth, he was a big, hulking fellow at least, with burly arms covered in thick coils of coarse hair, the same decorating his chest left visible from the simple leather vest he had worn open around his torso. She had been a few cups into her night already, and, true, while it wasn't exactly her business, a youngling in danger had been enough to make it her business\.

The puffy, slightly swollen skin around her left eye and cheek had been her reward. Oh, well. She'd had a busted lip before, and he had made a break for it and got out. It was a good trade.

The night sky was a dark blue, almost black, above their heads, clear as a good early-spring day, and just as cool. The fire licked at the air over the collection of logs and branches they had gathered together, and the smell of boiling water filled with tea leaves and a few bits of roasting meat from the skinned rabbit hung cloyingly in the windless air. The road was in sight from here, but here was not in sight of the road, blocked by a copse of trees that made this an ideal camping site. Stretched out onto one side, one of her books laid out open on the ground in front of her, she crossed her booted ankles and looked up at the yellow-haired boy across the firepit. "You said you were headed to Dunstpire, right? What's waiting for you there?"

[21:43] Corran Darstin looks up from poking at the fire pit, lost in thought. He blinks a bit, eyes adjusting, and lets out a confused "Hrm?" before he realizes what her question was. He puts down the stick and runs a hand through his hair, wincing a little and just trying to think of an answer. Then he sighs. "Nothing, really," he admits with a little shrug, "but it's the next place on the map, and it's as good a place as any to travel." One hand drifts over to the hilt of his sword, which does seem awfully fancy for someone like him. It doesn't quite look his size, and he doesn't seem like either an adventurer himself or the nobleman's son. He's got the golden hair of an Imperial, but he doesn't have the bearing. He realizes he's touching it, and consciously moves his hand away from the sword's pommel.

"I'm just traveling. I don't really have anywhere in mind. I just hop I can do some good along the way, but..." he makes another wince, this time in sympathy, and motions at Sigrid's face. "I'm a little green."
[21:47] Sigrid Hexenhammer: "I noticed," she said flatly, the corner of her lips curling into a smirk. "Most boys your age would just be learning the sword, not trying to make their living off of it." She knew something about good swords, too; her's was particularly fine, at least in terms of craftsmanship. It might not have been fancy, but it was reliable, and that was more important to her. With a fancy sword, it was hard to know if you were getting a showpiece or something that was tough, and tested. "I assume that's what you're doing, then? Taking up the life of an adventurer, setting out--" she gestured with a sweep of her hand, taking in the dark, orange-highlighted trees around them, "--for a life of adventure? What'd you do before that was so bad you had to come to this?"

[21:53] Corran Darstin winces again, this time in guilt. "It wasn't... bad. It just wasn't the life for me." He bites his lower lip, and looks back at the fire, hands in his lap, his thumbs twiddling nervously. He looks testy and pent up. But finally his internal struggle breaks. "I was... I was a farmboy. Never knew me parents, just me and my sister. When she died, I didn't really have anything else." He glances over and looks at the sword, then picks it up and draws it a few inches out of the scabbard. It glows faintly in the Autumn light, and seems to sing slightly. "Just this." He closes it, the faint hum going quiet as soon as the sheath locks. "If I've got a sword like this, then I shouldn't just hang it over the mantle. I should go out and help people."

The young man blushes a little, and scratches at his nose, trying to hide a smile. "Like you, I guess."
[22:00] Sigrid Hexenhammer: "Little young to have a mantle of your own to hang it over anyway, boy," she said, folding her book closed and leaning up to a seated position, drawing her legs in to fold beneath her, and resting her elbows on her knees out to either side. "I'm not much for helping people. Easier to live if you know when to keep your nose out of other people's business. If you had been a man full-grown, I'd have let you just take a drubbing and moved on with life. You could say I have a soft spot for people who can't protect themselves, though, and that man was a monster." She turned her head, flashing the swollen skin around her eye at him again. "As you can tell."

From indian-style seating, she unfolded and stood up, stretching her arms out above her head and groaning softly when a bone in her back popped. "Where'd you get that sword anyway? Seems like carrying it around is almost asking for more trouble than it's worth, if you don't know how to use it proper-like. I could teach you... I suppose." Fine lines formed on her face as she frowned, her eyes unfocusing in thought.

[22:06] Corran Darstin frowns a little himself, brow furrowing up. "I'm not as weak as I look, you know. And I would have been fine. I can take a licking, I've... I've fought before," he says it with a little shiver. Might just be the cold, though. "I'm not a kid. But..." he deflates a little, letting out a puff of air. "I guess I could learn more. I hadn't ever used a real sword until a few months ago." Of course, he never exactly says where he got the sword. "I can pay you, if you like. I'm not some cheapskate, although I don't really have much money. I could work it off, somehow..."
[22:11] Sigrid Hexenhammer: "Doing what? Blacking my boots and sewing up holes in my hide?" she snorted. "I don't think so. At the very least, you would be expected to pay attention, and to follow my lead, and, for a while at least, keep your teeth together unless I ask you something directly. What I do is dangerous work, lad. I don't just hike around helping strays in common rooms where they ought not to be."

Her lips curled up again; a smile, this time, and not an unfriendly one, just... cold. It certainly wasn't a tavern wench's sparkling grin coupled with a wink, for sure. "Keep a watch. There was a stream at the bottom of the ridge. I was hoping for a good, heated bath in a copper tub in the inn, but it'll do in a pinch." She moved past the fire, and past the boy, the sound of the metal of her buckle clinking together as she worked at her belt to unfasten it following her. "The name's Sigrid, by the way. What are you called, youngling? Or should I make something up for you?"

[22:18] Corran Darstin is not the kind of youngling to be swayed by a tavern wench's sparkling grin. Her aloof, busted-lip smile on the other hand, the way she talks down to him, and seems so sure of himself, that makes him squirm awkwardly and look away. He jumps to his feet, and stammers out "Um, y-yes, ma'am! Corran!", following after her for... guard duty? At the sound of her belts unfastening, he turns his head, and walks sideways, taught to always give a lady her privacy, no matter how hardened and manly she is. "Um, that is, Corran is my name," he says, nearly tripping over a rock and then facing away from the stream, standing up straight and looking out back through the trees to their camp. Of course, he turns his head just a little. There's only so much a good upbringing and a kindly sister can do to stop a young man from wanting to look at a naked woman, whether she's twice his age or not.
[22:26] Sigrid Hexenhammer: "Corran. A good name, but not from around here. You've been traveling for a fair bit, haven't you?" his coming /)(\ this close to face-planting into the grass on a rock earned a chuckle, too. Even if he did decide to come down to the stream with her, which had certainly not been her intention. Sigrid had been expecting him to stay up on the bluff overlooking the stream to keep a watch from the road, but, hey, this worked just as well. The tea needed to boil for at least the next quarter-hour, anyway, before it got good enough to drink. Up and over her head, she swung the leather strap holding the scabbard on her back, and laid the bastard sword onto the ground at her feet. Her back to the young man, she started unlacing the front of her linen shirt before peeling it back off her broad shoulders, their musculature, and that of her arms, highlighted in the star-and-moonlight pouring down through the canopy of trees overhead. "You're an eager thing, aren't you, Corran? I can tell you're from a farm, at least."

She glanced back over her bare shoulder to him, as if checking to see if he was still averting his eyes. "Farmboys always are the polite ones."

[22:35] Corran Darstin quickly looks back up the path, standing stock still with his arms at his sides, stiff as a board. "Um, y-yes, ma'am. I didn't have parents, but my sister raised me right," he says, then frowns, and mutters "yes ma'am?" to himself with a furrowed brow. He mumbles a few things to himself, and sighs. She did kind of agree to be his teacher at least. Right? So he stands there, stalwartly NOT looking down at the naked woman in the stream, washing her strong, supple body, running her hands along the knotted scars she no doubt had, and her tight, muscled limbs, getting clean between her thighs. Would her skin be pale and milky, or weathered and tan? Was her long hair the only thing that was silvery grey?

A twig snapped and the sound of humming and the faint glow filled the moonlight night as Corran let out a startled shout and drew down on a very confused looking fox. He slipped the blade back into the scabbard and coughed a little, very glad that Sigrid couldn't see the front of him. "Shoo," he said, motioning with his hands, still pent up from letting his mind wander.
[22:42] Sigrid Hexenhammer: Well, didn't he have a keen sense of imagination on what she was doing, huh? Naked in the stream might have been enjoyable a few months ago, but the cold would probably make her ill for days, now. Instead, her shirt folded onto the ground, she kneeled by the water and scooped up handfuls of it into her palm, then poured it down across her body to let it run down her skin, rubbing at patches of dirt - scraping it off with the edge of a knife blade when it was stubborn - to bathe herself. The leathers would probably come off in a moment; for now, she was bare only from the waist-up--

She spun around at the sound of steel sliding through the scabbard behind her, but relaxed when she saw him shooing off something she couldn't see from here. She rolled her eyes, and looked back to the stream to continue her scoop-and-scrub. "Little jumpy, aren't you?"
[22:50] Corran Darstin certainly wasn't imagining the way that the cold water would raise the gooseflesh of her skin, or what the cold might do to her nipples. He glances back over his shoulder and sees her look at him for a second, then stands straight, facing away. Adjusting his trousers a little. "S-sorry..." he mumbles with a nervous cough, and then goes to twiddling his thumbs and trying to keep track of imaginary harvests and think of probable numbers of imaginary chicken eggs that might be expected to be laid given then current temperature and presumed feed. And rocking on his heels and generally trying to keep his mind from wandering again.

He starts singing to himself a little, a song his sister used to sing to him when he was little. Not very loudly, but Sigrid can hear it. His voice is rather beautiful, a lovely soprano in the night air. His voice picks up, but then he realizes what he's doing and clears his throat, only to continue it as a quiet mumble.
[23:02] Sigrid Hexenhammer: "By the way," she said, shaking some water off of her limbs. It might have surprised him to see her walking past him, then, still in her boots and snug leathers, and still bare from the waist up. Her spine twisted sinuously with every step, the flesh shaped by the muscles of her back. She wasn't Herculean or even 'buff' by some standards -- indeed, she was dwarfed by that ogre of a man back in the inn's common room -- but she wasn't soft either in the way that country farmgirls were expected to be. Her skin was sun-darkened, the visible scars of old battles on her arms, shoulders, and back accentuated for that, and her silvery hair fell just past the crest of her shoulders, concealing nothing from his view as she moved by, fussing with her shirt as she was trying to turn it 'round right to slip back into. The cold water had mixed with the cool air, drawing her skin up tight and popping in gooseflesh over her biceps and up her sides. "Stop calling me 'ma'am.' I told you, my name's Sigrid."

She moved out in front of him, climbing the bluff again back toward their camp, completely uncaring of the fact that she was topless in front of him - though all he could see was her back, and, once as she was climbing, a glimpse of the side of one firm breast where it grew out from her ribs. Near the top of the bluff, she finally slipped the shirt back on over her head, but left it hanging loose around her hips, and unlaced around the neck, gaping open comfortably almost to the middle of her chest, with the inside-curves of her breast left visible.

"How old are you, anyway?" she said, glancing up at him from the cookpot that the tea was boiling in, leering in his direction out of the corner of her eyes.
[23:17] Corran Darstin keeps staring for a moment, eyes wide and jaw slacked in only the way a virgin boy gazing on an older naked woman can get. He keeps glancing away as he follows her back to the camp, but also glancing right back up after her, and the way those leathers keep a firm grip on her backside. "Yes, ma'am!" he stammers, "I mean, Sigrid, ma'am. Er, Right... Stop talking," he orders himself, hurrying back up after her. He sits down on the log again and tries not to watch the way her shirt hangs loose, and what hangs loose within it. She catches him staring and he suddenly finds himself interested in a tree branch that may have a bird on it but it's probably just a branch.

"Um... Sev--nineteen," he says, glancing back to see if she bought his unconvincing lie, then averting his eyes once more. "I'm nineteen."
[23:24] Sigrid Hexenhammer: "...Are you sure?" she asked, unable to help herself but to give up another amused, indulgent half-smile. The long wooden spoon she had resting in the pot was taken up and the tea leaves stirred. She watched them coming apart under the water, the water itself now a deep and healthy brown. Tapping the spoon against the side of the pot, she carefully poured tea into two cups - one of pewter, and one of wood - and set the wooden one down on one of the rocks encircling the firepit. Another bottle was uncorked, and she carefully measured out a few drops of honey for her cup, and then a pair of drops for his. "You act more like someone who hasn't reached their majority yet. I'd almost say you had fourteen winters behind you, than nineteen. Think you could... say... grow a beard?" recorking her bottle of honey, she scooped the wooden cup up and carried it over to him.

When he took it, though, she didn't move away just yet. Shifting her weight onto her back leg, she stood there looming over him, examining him closely with the cold, unforgiving gaze of an instructor. Then, without waiting for him to answer, she said, "Hm. You say you're from a farm? Take your shirt off, boy. Working a farm gives a man good strength. If I'm going to teach you how to use that sword you got, to keep some brute from thumping you on the head and taking it away, I need to see what I have to work with."

[23:40] Corran Darstin holds the warm cup in his hands, scowling a little. Then he blinks a few times, eyes going wide and cheeks going red. "Wh-what?!" he stammers, choking and sputtering on the sips of warm tea. He hesitates, but he doesn't back talk, and puts the cup down and nervously starts fiddling at the lacing of his tunic, and undoing his sword belt so he can tug it out of his pants. With a grumpy sigh, he tries to pull his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, but instead he gets his elbows caught on the cotton and becomes trapped in it, his head and arms a ball of tangled limbs and fabric. His torso is thin and wirey, almost a little girlish if not for the touch of boyish muscle, and the little sparse blond hairs. With an "Ack" and "erk" he pulls the shirt off the rest of the way, hair a golden mess.

He sits there awkwardly, arms over his chest, shirt pressed down against his lap. He shivers a bit, and the cold is getting to his chest. He's sunkissed, pale with little spots of brown and red along his shoulders. His chest matches his cheeks in that both are ruddy and bright red from more than just the cold. His arms have a little definition, and true to his word he does seem to have seen a bit, though hard to say whether the pale lines on his body are from sword tips or brambles. "I can grow a beard," he says indignantly. "I just choose to shave."
[23:49] Sigrid Hexenhammer: A young man his age? Blade-scars would surprise her more than bramble-snags. Sigrid laughed, a sound that seemed to come out low and throatily, folding one arm across her chest beneath the line of her ribs, and the other perpendicular up toward her face to cover her mouth and her bemused smile with her fingers. She watched him struggle in his shirt, almost deciding to help him but finally realizing it was more amusing to watch him try to untangle himself. By the time he had gotten out, his hair was indeed looking a mess. If she had owned a hairbrush, she might have lent it to him.

And then she saw how he sat folded-over onto himself. "What are you, a woman?" with a scoff, she bent down just far enough to take him by the arm and haul him up to his feet. "Come on, on your feet. Let's see you properly."

She took a half-step back, shifting her weight onto the one leg again, arms now both folded around her middle. Green eyes traveled over his torso, over the lines of his chest and shoulders, down the subtle definition of his arms. Sigrid reached out and felt of his arm - not so much grabbing this time, so much as actually squeezing her fingers into his bicep to feel at the muscle-tone. She did the same thing over the point of his shoulder, then moved around behind him, taking in the sight of his back, fingers pressing into him just beneath his right shoulder-blade onto his ribs. "Hm. Not bad. You may have been from a farm. You don't have the look of raising crops, though. Some kind of livestock, then? Pigs? Cattle?"
[00:02] Corran Darstin stands up on his feet and clambers to keep the shirt over his crotch, standing up straight and twitching this way and that as he's poked and prodded at. He actually lets out an audible gasp as she touches his back, and it sends shivers up his spine. He clasps a hand up to cover his mouth, and takes it away to speak. "Um, just odd jobs, for the most part... we had chickens, and I kept the bobcats out of the coop. We had one cow. My sister was sick a lot..." he twitches, his shoulders and muscles moving underneath his skin, "it was just the two of us, and we couldn't afford help, so it was... more like a garden."

"I feel like livestock..." he murmurs, looking over his shoulder and then turning back with a blush, hands pressing the balled up tunic to the front of his trousers. He shivers again. "I used to use toy swords with the other boys. I was the best, but... that doesn't really mean much. It was a small village."
[00:17] Sigrid Hexenhammer: "It's okay. I used to tend sheep with my pa'," the slang, coupled with the admission, betraying the fact that she, too, was raised on a farm. "Sometimes we go a long way from where we started in life. You don't cut the finest form I've ever seen, but I think we can work on that. Strength is as important as speed, and you're going to need both. Put your shirt back on," she gave his rump a swat as she moved back around and away from him, scooping up her pewter cup again to take a sip of tea.

Lowering herself to sit on the other side of the log he had been occupying, she set about unlacing her boots. "I suppose I might as well tell you. Good to be honest about it. I'm not just an adventurer, or even a mercenary, Corran. I told you before what I do is dangerous, and I'm going to teach you everything I can about it to make sure you survive as long as you're able, but you still deserve to know - I hunt vampires. It just so happens that I kill all sorts of other monsters along the way, too." Leaning forward, she plants her elbows onto her knees, watching the fire dance in the pit.

"Still interested in learning?"
[00:23] Corran Darstin jumps at the smack to his ass, and stumbles forward before hurriedly pulling his shirt back on--without getting stuck this time--and sitting back on the log. He leans forward a bit, tugging at the hem of his shirt so that it covers his lap, and not being nearly as surreptitious as he thinks. He was barely even paying attention, too worried about being improper or being seen as perverse. It takes him a moment to realize what she said, and he reaches for the sword and lays it across his knees. The young man licks at his bottom lip, then pulls it in between his teeth, brow furrowed a little as he traces the detailed leather with his thumb, bare feet digging little circles in the dirt.

"I'm looking to help people," he finally says, looking up with a feeble smile. "I mean, how can I do that better than by killing monsters?"
[00:31] Sigrid Hexenhammer: "True..." she said with an absent nod as she took in another sip of tea, leering at him out of the corner of her eyes again. Sigrid was not nearly as shy and awkward as this boy was; she had been with several men in her life, and women too, scandalous as that might have been, and so she knew every sign of what to look for. It was so cute how he kept trying to hide it from her, wasn't it? She watched him fiddling with his swordbelt, idling his feet in the dirt of the camp, keeping the shirt oh-so-carefully pushed down almost to his bloody knees.

She couldn't take it anymore, really. "Do you need to go jerk it or something?" she asked, bluntly. "Get it out of your system? I forget, sometimes, that young men your age tend to get hard at the slightest sniff of a woman." A second later at his reaction, she added, matter-of-factly, "No, stop blushing and look at me. We need to get some sleep, but you won't be doing any of that unless you go and, ah, 'work things out'. So go," she gestured off toward the darkness rimming the campsite.

[00:41] Corran Darstin puts his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands. "Oh gods," he mutters, voice muffled as he presses his palms into his face. "Oh Gods, I don't need to worry about swordfighting... I'm going to die of embarrassment." he glances up, and winces at her casual look. "It's, um... I've never really..." He coughs, and brushes his nose with a thumb, "I mean, I've never had to take care of myself," he stammers out quickly, "I mean, I've had youknow, with a woman before. Loads of times." He goes redder, and that's obviously a lie. Corran shrugs his shoulders and sheepishly grins, "Um, you're very attractive. I'm going to..." he gets up, pants tented, coughs a bit, and then walks out into the woods.
[00:48] Sigrid Hexenhammer: She watched him, expression flat, as she stammered out what was oh-so-plainly not true, trying to save face. She understood, of course; young men were always trying to save face when it came to their manliness, and maybe her blunt approach had taken a bit of edge off of that. When he finally gave in and just admitted that he was going to go take care of business, the sound of her throaty laughter followed him off into the woods. It wasn't a mocking laughter, though - she wasn't that wicked! - but, maybe given some time, he would come to see the absurdity of what had just transpired.

Sigrid stayed by the fire, sipping her tea, and waited for her young friend to return. The minutes started to stretch, though. Before long, it was her own bare feet etching circles into the dirt, and idly playing with the hanging strings of her linen shirt. When she realized what was happening, she closed her hand into a fist and tightly gripped her pewter cup with both sets of fingers. "Oh, steady on, girl, it's not that flattering." She took a long, finishing gulp of tea, then looked over her shoulder to the woods. Then to the fire. Then to the woods.

A few seconds later, the cup was left by the stone firepit, and she was ghosting into the trees in the direction he had gone, quick and quiet as a shadow...

[01:04] Corran Darstin trundles into the woods, walking awkwardly until he can get his pants undone and finally let his young manhood free. It bounces around as he walks, and with a quick glance around to make sure he's not stumbling into someone else's camp site, he slips out of his trousers, wearing nothing beneath them, and hangs them up on a tree branch. With another nervous glance around, he takes off his shirt as well. He gives a little shiver, the thin blond hairs of his legs standing up. Then he nervously bites his lip and kneels down, his erection bouncing up between his legs with every move. He sits there for a bit, and starts stroking himself, his shaft as young and fresh as the rest of him, with the skin tight around his tip. He goes slowly at first, touching his own chest, and caressing at his own stomach and inner thighs, head moving this way and that as he listens to every little sound with the auditory clarity only granted by onanism. Of course he's jumping at every little breeze and the sound of woodland creatures, but he can't see Sigrid even when he's looking right at her. And he's even facing back towards camp, not wanting to be snuck up on.

It does him no good, though, and he shivers, trying to let it go. "Gods but I'm making a fool of myself," he mutters with a sigh, closing his eyes and moving his pace. His breath quickens as he toys with his nipples, bare hand running over his chest while the other works a grip at his prick. "Sigrid..." he murmurs, imagination running wild, "Oh yes, teach me..." he says, rising up on his knees, chest heaving with every heavy breath. "Gods, teach me e-every thing, ah..." he continues, muttering to himself to heighten his fantasies.
[01:21] Sigrid Hexenhammer: He might have been trying to keep a lookout for anyone sneaking up on him, but his distracted brain was no match for her skill at moving silently, concealment, and shadowing. She circled around the back side of the bluff, using the terrain to keep her hidden, until she had looped around back behind the small, pale figure that was almost glowing in the moonlight. Low to the ground, she moved closer from behind him, almost to the point that she could reach out and touch him with the tips of her fingers had she been so inclined to. Sigrid watched him, watched the way he was touching himself. What are you, a woman? In truth, he seemed almost to act like one, experiencing a kind of tactile fantasy where most young men would just be furiously jerking themselves out onto the earth. Head tilted to one side, like a curious bird, she listened to the little noises he made, to the words he spoke.

It kind of made a blush of her own start creeping up the sides of her neck. Maybe it was flattering. Sigrid swallowed once, then ghosted forward.

The air was cool, and he was naked as the day he was born, which certainly meant that when her rough fingers, calloused from wielding the hilt of a sword for years, touched him, then it was a little pocket of warmth against his flesh. She was behind him, suddenly and as if out of nowhere, lowering herself into a crouch where the insides of her knees encompassed his slim hips. Sigrid's fingers traipsed over the line of his ribs to the front of his body, and then down; this was not the shy, demure touch of a farmgirl, either. She was a woman-grown, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do.

"Don't speak a word," she said, her voice low and the warm splash of her breath against the back shell of his ear. The woman's palm slid smoothly down the front line of his torso, past his waist, and curled her fingers around the base of his hard shaft, displacing his own hand in the process.

And then she stopped. She didn't work at it as he had done, did not stroke nor caress. Her grip was strong, though, strong enough for her to feel the pulsing throbs of his heartbeat in his cock. "Mm," she noised from the back of her throat, "Not bad, boy. But I didn't believe you earlier. Have you ever had anyone else touch you like this?" and, finally, her wrist moved, dragging her fingers and palm up along his length to just over the quivering crown, then back down again to once more rest on the base.

[00:31] Corran Darstin: The young man didn't even notice the hands moving along his stomach at first, then goes stock still, eyes wide in the darkness, a little yelp escaping his lips before he puts one hand to cover them. He breathes hard, terrified puffs escaping his nose, his heart pumping hard, his fight or flight in a tug of war that leaves him paralyzed with panic. He only calms down very slightly when he realizes who it is, and stays quiet as ordered. He almost speaks up, taking his hand away, but only opens his mouth, which turns into a quiet moan as the warrior begins to move her hands. His breathing quickens, his tip practically drooling, and he simply shakes his head. His legs tremble, and he leans forward, bending at the waist and thrusting ever so slightly into the hand.

He moves to catch himself, holding at Sigrid, one hand on the forearm stroking him, and the other back behind himself to touch at her knee as he rights himself too far, and leans against the breasts of the woman, his head right next to hers. Corran closes his eyes, and bites his lip, his bare chest rising and falling sharply in the moonlight.

[00:46] Sigrid Hexenhammer: Sigrid chuckled softly, a low and throaty sound as they all had been, only this one was, of course, directly into his ear. She looked down past his shoulder, over his smooth and hairless chest down to admire the tool in her palm. He wasn't the longest she'd ever seen, t'is true, but it was still a goodly size, and certainly thick. There was certainly something to be said for not being harpooned by moose-cocks. "You're having a dream," she whispered in a soft rasp into his ear, pausing long enough to part her lips and claim the lobe between her teeth for a tug and a bite. "A pleasant fantasy, imagining what it would be like. Aren't you?"

Her breasts were soft and surprisingly full beneath her linen shirt, and the studded leather covering her legs gave him the shape and definition to cling onto, with none of the fleshy warmth. She encompassed him with those leathers and that linen, surrounding the naked young man with a hunger that the primal subconscious of his instincts should be able to recognize. The heat of her hand. The warmth of her groin, even through the leathers, against his backside. "Close your eyes, dreamer," she whispered, "and just... dream."

And then she started moving her hand in earnest, stroking up and down his length. Her fingers were not princess-soft, though, and that texture glided smoothly up the length of his dick then back down again in slow, smooth motions. Her grip tightened and loosened in places, ensuring that the moment wouldn't be stolen by pulled skin. This? Was a woman who had experience doing just this thing. Her other hand curled around beneath his arm, splaying fingers and thumb wide out across his chest, exploring the lines of his muscles, ribs, and brushing atop his nipple.

[00:56] Corran Darstin keeps his lip gripped nervously between his teeth, his eyes closed, his brow knit in so many confusing emotions. He opens his mouth to voice a whimpering, panting gasp, and more of him drips out, wetting that rough, experienced hand, all while another of them goes across his chest. At the touch of a calloused finger brushing his sensitive, stiffened nipples, he can't help but cry out a quiet "Oh Gods," from between his young lips. His hips buck whether he wants them to or not, and one hand, trembling and clutching for support even as he leans back against Sigrid's shoulder, comes off her knee and up behind him, to hold at her neck. Nervous, slender fingers, only lightly calloused at all, grace her cheek, and move up through her silvery hair.

The boy tenses, and presses his bare rear against the warmth of the woman's crotch, desperately trying to pull away from the gentle caress of a rough hand, his breath coming out in hard pants. "Oh Gods," he says again, a quiet plea, licking his lip, and biting it once more as his legs tremble.
[01:02] Sigrid Hexenhammer: Every time she reached the top of the stroke, her fingers curled up beneath the underside of his dick, scooping the dribbling pre' off the tip and dragging it back down to lubricate the shaft she was working on. The texture of her swordsman-callouses might've felt maddening, but without that little bit of lube, it probably would have felt considerably less delicious. Fortunately, this boy was a gusher. Wrist and elbow, she worked her arm to piston his cock, the boy trapped between her knees and unable to escape no matter which way he bucked and pulled. She didn't mind the touching; at least, she didn't tell him not to. Her hair wasn't exactly soft, having the feel of not having been washed or brushed, either one, in several days. It hung in kinks and tangles, but out of the way, so she didn't care much about it while out on the road.

Her own eyes closed, pressing her cheek against the boy's ear, and just reveling in the feel of his cock throbbing in her palm, his young body pressing against her, and the familiar sensation of pulsing heat inside of her core. "The Gods won't help you here," she murmured, dipping her chin to close her teeth around the crest of his shoulder for a bit of a nibble.
[01:20] Corran Darstin clutches at Sigrid's neck, desperately trying to keep himself together, but her touch--the touch of a woman for the first time--is far too much for him, his fantasies turned into a reality. He grips tightly at the back of her head, pulling her down into his shoulder. At the same time, a tremble runs through his body and he humps wildly at the hand before doubling over, grabbing Sigrid's wrist tight and leaning forward in little jerky spasms of paroxysm, several long white ropes of cum jerking from his cock and splashing on the dry leaves and cold ground. He catches his shoulder on the teeth and tries to keep from falling forward, one hand moving to stop himself from falling face first into his own spent seed, his backside pressing deeper against the wet warmth between Sigrid's legs.

The whole time his breath is ragged and sharp, and near the end it comes out in pants and whimpers, girlish and submissive. He keeps having little convulsions throughout his body, spurred on by where Sigrid still touches him, his thighs, burning from the weight on his knees, and his feet bent backwards, all twitching in a full body orgasm not often had by men. "Oh Gods, I'm sorry..." he murmurs, young, virile cum running down those warrior's fingers. He seems almost on the verge of tears, but, swallows them down in favour of quiet, desperate panting. He doesn't let go of Sigrid's wrist, his knuckles white, his pale fingers digging into her skin without realizing it.
[01:29] Sigrid Hexenhammer: He wasn't the only one who was panting. Feeling the pulsing, rhythmic throb that announced it was happening made her stomach churn and her muscles tighten. He might have gripped her wrist, and it might have staggered her stroke a bit, but she didn't actually stop in any real sense of the word. Sigrid milked the boy for every geyser burst of semen he would give, and when it finally started to wind down, she squeezed extra-hard at the base before pulling up, squeezing that last little bit out of him. Hell, she almost got off herself, just knowing what was happening to him.

Sucking in a deep breath, she knelt there, just like that, for several seconds before finally shifting. She pulled her wrist out of his hand -- she made it look entirely too easy, twisting her hand back around by his thumb, the weakest joint in the body -- and wiped her palm and fingers across his belly, and then, turning her hand, the backs of her fingers. Her other hand gave a fond, parting pinch to his cold-hardened nipple, dragging around the line of his ribs to his back and finally departing him entirely with a light scratch across his shoulder blade. She stood up over him, lifting her hand to taste what was still left on her fingers with a quick dab of her tongue, then another one, more fully and hungry.

"Mhmm. Your dream has reached an ending, hasn't it? Count off thirty seconds, then wake up and come back to camp. You'll want to keep your dignity, though, so you won't mention anything to me about what your naughty little imagination cooked up out here."

She mussed his hair with her left hand and stepped around him, making her way back to the campsite still sucking the leftover bits of his cum off her fingers.

[01:45] Corran Darstin is practically holding back a scream by the end of it, and when Sigrid wipes her hands off on his slender, trembling body and leaves him, he tumbles over onto the dirty ground, rolling onto his side and panting, one arm thrown up across his face, which is flushed with embarrassment and fading arousal. He lays there panting, his member shriveled and spent, still twitching as it goes down, and murmurs out a count as he's told. The whole time, thoughts run through his head of what just happened. It obviously wasn't a dream, but... Gods, it felt better than anything real. It was the first time anyone else had ever touched him. And then of course the realization hit him that it was the first time he'd ever had anyone else touch him... and he wasted it being a simpering fool, acting like a little girl. There wasn't really anything he could do about that, though. Because it certainly would be worth what little dignity he had after that embarrassing display to not mention it.

With a sigh, Corran grabbed a fist full of dirt and rubbed it on his chest and stomach, then pushed the nasty wet clumps from his body. He did his best to clean himself off, but ended up having to wipe himself off with the hem of his shirt, since the alternative was using dirt or leaves on his all too sensitive privates. It takes him a long moment to get up, his legs shakey from what might have been the best orgasm of his young life, as well as the long time he'd just spent on his knees, weight back on his heels. And another long moment to climb back into his clothes. He stands there, looking at the cum on the ground, silvery in the moonlight, and with a flush of his cheeks he scuffs the ground and kicks dirt over it before making a very awkward, very twitchy and sensitive walk back to camp.

He sits back on the log, face red, unlaced tunic hanging awkwardly, smelling slightly of sex and sweat and dirt, and sips at the now cold tea with both hands, doing his damnedest not to look over at Sigrid.
[01:50] Sigrid Hexenhammer: She was back in pretty much the same spot she had started their night in, laying on her bedroll, legs crossed at the ankle, propped up on one side and up on her elbow. Her book was open again, spread out in front of her, and a fresh cup of tea was set beside it, already not-quite-full from a few sips having been taken already. She glanced up as he came back into the camp, and her lips twitched with bemused indulgence before she looked back down at the pages. There was a silence that stretched between them for almost a minute as she finished the page, the next one, and the next one after that. Turning it once more, she scooped her cup up and took a sip.

Then, just as abruptly as before, asked, "So, feeling better now that you've had a chance to relieve yourself?"
[01:52] Corran Darstin coughs into his fist, and looks down at his feet, toes once again playing in the cold dirt. "Um... yes ma'am..." he says, with flushed cheeks, before taking a long sip of tea.