Let in the Warmth

Author's Warning: This is just the first part of a proposed series. I want to see how feedback is to it before I go any further with it. This first part doesn't have anything really X-rated, so if that's what you're looking for, turn back now. If you're looking for a slower-paced, plot-based, fantasy story, though, keep reading.

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The wind howled. Snow stung my exposed face. I pulled down my ushanka, tightened my scarf, and kept marching, trying to find my way back to the cabin. The sudden blizzard had turned the forest into a white, featureless maze. I stumbled and fell.

Goddamnit, why had I gone out alone? Some bright idea that had turned out to be... I stood up and leaned against a nearby oak, trying to see anything in the furious tempest. Was that...? It looked like a rosy light off in the distance. Even if it wasn't the cabin, it had to be something better than being alone in the cold. I headed towards it.

Thick snow clung to my boots as I struggled onward, weighing me down. The light grew larger and brighter, giving me hope. And then...I'm still not sure what happened. The wind stopped blowing against my face and began to push me forwards. I felt lighter. Snowflakes rose off the ground and flew forwards towards the light. I tried to hold my ground, but the suction was too strong, and soon I too was lifted up off the earth by an unseen force, sent hurtling towards the light.

Everything went black.

Rain awakened me. My eyes were blurry and my limbs sore. "Oh my goodness! Are you alright?" asked a nearby voice. I turned my head and made out a dark shadow in the night. I reached out an aching hand towards her before everything went black yet again.

Warmth awakened me. I opened my eyes to a wooden ceiling. The room was empty, just a place for sleeping. Aside from the bed, the only furniture was a dresser and a small sidetable, holding a candle and some sort of scroll. The walls had once been whitewashed, but on top of that had been doodled and colored upon, filling almost every inch of the walls with vibrant shapes and designs. My limbs still ached, and someone had tucked me into a bed with a heavy, yellow blanket. A savory smell filled the room. My stomach grumbled. Where was I?

"Hello? Is anyone here?" I asked cautiously.

Something metal clanged on the floor in the next room. "You're awake?!" Footsteps drummed as she ran towards the room. Through the empty threshold walked in an ashen-haired angel. "Oh! Thank goodness you're alive!" she cooed. "I found you in the woods, and I wasn't sure you were going to be alright..." Her glacier blue eyes glistened with moisture as she walked up to the bed and threw herself upon me, wrapping her arms around me tightly.

Questions struggled valiantly in my brain, fighting to be answered first. Who was she? Did she know me? Did I have amnesia? Where was I? "Who are you?" seemed like a good place to start.

"Oh! Sorry for not introducing myself. My name is Katya. I'm delighted to meet you," she said with a slight bow that threatened to render her indecent had she gone any lower. She wore naught but an apron, and a skimpy one at that. It was undyed, a simple off-white, while the edges were trimmed a pale blue. Remnants of old stains coated the apron like clouds across a summer sky, revealing a geological record of ancient delicacies and a delectably heavy bosom that nearly poured out of the front of her apron when she bent over. Her deep cleavage beckoned to me. My cheeks burned as a sudden revelation and a new question shoved its way to the front of the queue.

"What happened to my clothes?"

"Oh, they were wet. They're warming by the fire now, and I'm making some fish soup to warm you up. You were shivering when I found you. What happened to you?"

"I'm not really sure," I confessed, averting my eyes, desperately trying to feign interest in the wall. "Where am I now?"

"Well, we live on the Nevskian Hill, right near the Lietan Aqueduct. It's actually really convenient for us, because..." she continued, but I couldn't hear her over my own thoughts. Where the hell was I? Last thing I remembered had been trying to make my way back to my friends' cabin in upstate New York after I had stormed out due a fight and getting stuck in a sudden snowstorm. Did upstate New York have aqueducts?

"I'm sorry, I'm...not from around here. Which city is this?"

"You're in the polis of Rym, unmet friend. Are you feeling quite well?" She crawled on top of me and pushed her forehead gently against my own. The weight of her body against mine was all too obvious, and I sunk into the bed to try to prevent her from realizing the reaction she was having on me. Our noses touched and our eyes met as she said, "You don't feel as though you're feverish." I felt her warm breath against my lips, and resisted the temptations going through my mind.

"Why did you travel here? Do you know someone here? If you have no place to stay, you're welcome to stay with us for a while. Do you have a vocation?"

I weighed my words carefully in my head before speaking, trying to ascertain my situation. "No, I don't know anyone here. I think I got lost. I wasn't aware I was near Rum-"

"Rym," she winced.

"-Rym. As for my vocation, I'm studying to be a historian."

"A historian? Your beard is far too neat for such a vocation," she commented, rubbing my trimmed cheeks. "All the historians I know look as though they've been interrupting in the middle of eating birds' nests. You'll need to ignore your beard for a few months before you look like a proper historian.

"Once you feel better, I'll take you to the library. Perhaps you can enjoy yourself there until you've recovered."

"I don't want to trouble you, Katya," I protested, but really, what were my options, realistically? I was a naked stranger. I didn't think I'd do well alone...

"No, no, no, I insist! You can't be alone! You'll stay with us... Oh my goodness, I never asked! What is your name?"

"Matthew."

"What a strange name," she commented, adjusting herself so that she was sitting upon my legs. "Math-yus..." she tried.

"Just Matthew," I corrected her. "No S."

"Math-yoos," she attempted with a determined furrowing of her brow, with only the slightest lisp at the end.

Close enough, I figured. My stomach grumbled angrily and audibly. "You must be hungry," Katya giggled, rubbing my stomach through the blanket. "Do you feel strong enough to walk, or should I bring you your soup?"

I wasn't certain I wanted to give her more reasons to invade my personal space, so I insisted, " I can walk. Um...are my clothes dry yet?"

"Oh, you must still be cold! I think your clothes are still wet. You may borrow one of my father's tunics, though, if that will satisfy you."

"Thank you, that'd be perfect," I replied. She stood up and waited. I waited for her to leave or look away or cover her eyes so I could get out of bed without an indecent exposure charge. "Um, do you mind?"

"Oh, of course!" she said, leaving the room.

Bit of a ditz, that one, I thought, but nice enough, at least. I got out of the bed and made my way to the dresser. "I got his robe for you, Matthews," announced Katya as she walked in unexpectedly.

I covered myself, expecting a shrill shriek, but none came. She walked over to me and gave me a tight, full-bodied embrace, pressing her firm chest insistently against my own. Her hips pushed against my pelvis, and my tumescent cock was smothered between her thighs. "I'm so happy that you're strong enough to get out of bed on your own! Ah, and you're full of energy, I see," she giggled.

I brushed her ashy blonde hair out of my face. "Uh, thanks." She released me and presented me with her father's white robe. She made no motion to avert her eyes, so I turned around to put it on. It was a very simple tunic, white, with a dark red trim. It was an outfit of practicality, not fashion. A loose rope tied it around the waist, but there was nothing else in way of luxuries. Still, it prevented overly-touchy young women from seeing my dick, so it satisfied every requirement I had.

"Let's eat," I suggested, starving. We ate and talked as I tried to find out some things about where I was without making my ignorance too obvious. I didn't recognize any of the names or places she mentioned, though, and a worry began to develop in the pit of my stomach, growing heavier with each line.

"Katya, could you draw a map for me?" I asked. "A big one. I want to see everything and know where I am."

"Sure," she smiled. "Let me get some wax."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." I just hope I can figure something out...

"Ahhh, feels great to get rid of that thing," she commented. I looked up at her, and saw everything. She had stripped off her apron and replaced it with nothing. I watched with fixed eyes as she bounced back to her seat and sat down next to me, resting her full breasts on the table, leaning against me as she began to draw out her map. "This here is Rym, and this is..." she began, but already I was paying more attention to her flesh than her voice. I stared down at her long, sleek body, unable to restrain my eyes. Her neatly trimmed pubic hair was the same ash-blonde as the rest of her hair, a temptingly unusual sight. Her body was lightly tanned, without a single tanline to mar its beauty. Her shoulder was soft as silk against mine. The faint smell of vanilla wafted off her body. Her free hand rested on my thigh, mere inches from my hardening cock. I leaned in closer to her, pursed my lips, and-

"Katya, we're home!" boomed a male voice from another room. I started, and put some air between Katya and me. A round, stocky, thickly-bearded man came into the room, wearing an ivory-colored robe and bright red boots, followed by a young boy of around ten wearing a miniature version of the same. "And who's your new friend?" he asked Katya with a knowing grin.

"This is Matthew," she indicated. "He's a historian."

"Is that so? With such a neat beard?"

"I already made that joke, daddy."

"Oh. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mathyus," he said as I winced slightly. "I'm Pervis Katyus, and this is my son, Vladius Katyus," he added, giving me a strong bear hug with a stronger slap on the back.

"He was just asking me for a map. He's a bit lost, I'm afraid."

"Well fortunately for you, I'm better than your average cartographer, Mathyus!" He sat down and smoothed out the wax on which Katya had been working. "Now what sort of map do you want?"

"As big as possible," I replied. "I need a good idea of where exactly I am. And with detailed coastlines," I added. That should be the easiest way to place myself...I certainly wasn't in New York anymore...

While Pervis worked on his map, humming and talking to himself, Katya sidled up next to me and whispered, "Daddy used to be a merchant for his father, so he traveled all over. He knows the seas very well."

"Good. I need someone with a good knowledge of the world," sneaking a peek at the beautiful breasts hovering just inches away from me. She was built like a goddess...

"Finished!" he announced, and stood up to let me admire his handiwork. To the right of the map was an open ocean, with a large, curved gulf extending across the map. To the south of the gulf was a large landmass studded with peninsulas, and to the north of it was a solid block of land that extended to the map's edge. On the upper edge of the southern landmass jutted out a squat, double-tipped peninsula into the gulf. "And here," pointed Pervis to one of the tips, "is Rym. Does that help you, o lost historian?"

Not at all, I thought to myself. I pointed to another peninsula, long and narrow. "How wide is this? How many days' march?" I needed a sense of scale.

"Ohh...about six days or so."

My heart stopped as I did out the math. That must be about a hundred miles, about as wide as Italy... I turned the map around, trying to find an orientation I recognized, but no matter how I looked at it, it was obvious that the map I was looking at didn't correspond to anything on Earth.

Where was I?!

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Author's Note: So this part is short, but it's just the introduction. I'd like to continue with Matthew learning more about where he is and finding his place in it, and experiencing more of life there. The idea came from reading a book about human intimacy, and I wondered what kind of social mores a society would have if it just considered it okay to express intimacy all the time.

Think about how often you hold yourself back from holding someone's hand or touching their shoulder because of social prejudices against acceptable behavior and intimacy. Wouldn't we all be healthier and happier if we just hugged each other when we felt the desire, and touched each other when we wanted to? That's basically what I'm going for here. Whether you enjoyed it or think I'm a total fuck-up, let me know. I definitely want constructive criticism on this series, and I'd like to know whether people think I should continue it. Thanks!