Rising Ch. 09

Lanion nudged her shoulder as she stood. She patted his nose. “Hello to you too. I suppose you weren’t too happy with what happened yesterday, huh?”

Lanion snorted and kicked a rail. Ahma smiled and rubbed his neck. “I thought so. I’m not worried, though. I’m safe with you.”

Lanion began to chew the fence again. Ahma sighed and smirked softly. “You’re going to ruin your teeth.”

A man walked into the stables from the small shack they did business out of and glanced around. He spotted Ahma and walked over. He was short and lean and had a relatively well groomed appearance. Ahma tensed.

“Excuse me, my Lady? Is this your horse?”

“Yes,” Ahma answered hesitantly, deciding her answer was close enough to the truth.

“He wouldn’t happen to be for sale, would he?” the man ventured.

“Um…no, I couldn’t sell him,” she replied.

“Before you make a final decision,” the man spoke, “I’m prepared to offer you a rich sum. I have much wealth, and I would gladly spend a generous portion of it to own such a horse.”

The man seemed surprisingly honest, and he didn’t appear armed. Still, Ahma crept closer to Lanion, feeling safer near the massive horse. “I’m afraid he’s not for sale,” she repeated. “This breed is unique. They will obey only those who have reared them from foalhood.”

The man seemed confused. “Interesting…but I don’t particularly understand. I saw a man riding it earlier.”

Ahma thought fast. “Yes, that man was my escort and horse master. He helped to raise the horse. The horse obeys no other but we two. He’s unable to do otherwise, I’m afraid.”

Lanion gave her a dirty look.

“Really now?” the man murmured, nodding slowly.

Ahma continued to talk to the man for some time. She tried to end the conversation several times, but he seemed intent on talking forever. Finally he stopped asking her questions, which relieved her as she finally didn’t have to make up answers anymore.

He looked at her and said slowly, “I am a Duke from a country south of here…Vetru, it is called. Perhaps…you would like to visit some time?

Ahma paused. This was becoming somewhat ridiculous.

“I will have to check with my m…father. But he hopefully won’t mind.”

He smiled. “I would be delighted to have you.”

Lanion snorted and Methaniel appeared around the corner. The Master took one look at the man and began to pull his sword as he snuck up behind him.

Ahma announced, “Ah, there you are bodyguard. I was wondering where you’d wandered off to.

The strange Noble turned to find Methaniel, sword drawn, giving Ahma a dirty look. He hastily bid her farewell and walked from the stables.

“Who was that?” Methaniel asked.

“He wanted to buy Lanion. I told him no, but he kept on talking. He claimed he was a Duke somewhere and would like me to visit him.”

Methaniel’s eyebrows raised. “What did you tell him?”

Ahma turned pink. “A few different things I…well, made up.”

Methaniel smirked and sheathed his blade. “You probably should try to avoid talking to people.”

“I know, but he wouldn’t go away,” she sighed.

Methaniel shook his head, realizing that Ahma didn’t seem to notice that inviting a “Noble” Lady to ones home was certainly courting. Given her soft beauty and fair composure, the poor man probably thought she was practically royalty.

Then again, given the strange blend of what she wore…

“If someone asks after you, just tell them you’re married. They’ll leave you alone. Or let Lanion bite them, whichever is quicker.”

Lanion bit the fence in reply. Ahma giggled.

“Did you find anything?” Ahma asked.

Methaniel nodded and, after patting Lanion for a moment, led her back toward the inn.

“A bit. All I really found was that we may be able to locate some information in a town to the southwest. We’ll spend a few days here and I’ll try to see if I can find any other leads.”

“Can I do anything to help?” Ahma asked.

“Yes,” Methaniel chuckled, “Keep Lanion from killing stable hands.”

Ahma laughed softly. Methaniel smiled down at her.

“If I find anything, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, try to relax and keep a low profile. Practice your dagger and sword work as well as you can in the room.”

“Yes, Master Merie,” she smiled softly. “Are you hungry?”

Methaniel nodded vigorously and elbowed her slightly. “Shall we,Mistress?”

Ahma blushed softly as she realized she’d let his title slip. “Indeed, bodyguard.”

***

After a brief lunch, Ahma went back to the room while Methaniel went back out into town to search for more information. She locked herself in and changed into one of her tunics and leggings, happy to be rid of her stuffy brown dress. Master Methaniel seemed very concerned that she spoke to the man, and she understood why, though she didn’t feel she had much of a choice. The stranger refused to acknowledge a finalizing statement.

Ahma sat by the fire for some time, mostly playing with her hair. She braided it around the front of her head, almost like a band, then left the rest down. It curled in every direction.

Master Methaniel promised to keep her by his side, always. That was a strong vow he made, but she believed him. He had more conviction than anyone she had ever met, and he was serious about his word.

She wondered, though, how he really felt about her. She couldn’t help it, no matter how she tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, that he was a Master and she a servant, and no matter what, nothing could come of it. She tried to tell herself that he was simply being kind because it was his way…but sometimes he was more than kind. Sometimes he was warm, and caring, and tender…and he looked at her in just such a way. Even as inexperienced and unknowing as she was, she felt that gaze had to meansomething. Perhaps he cared for her more than it seemed. It certain was possible…they spent much time together, very close, his arms around her…and he hadn’t been the least upset by the liberty of her kiss last night. Did he have feelings for her?

She needed to find out.

Her face was serious with thought as she ran an idea through her head. It might work…but the meaning would probably be lost, on a Human. But then again, the Masterwasintelligent…

It was worth a try, she decided. She would let him know of her feelings, her desire, her love, in a tradition of her people. She would have to see how he reacted. Perhaps he wouldn’t react at all, who knew? If he didn’t understand, it wouldn’t upset her. Master Methaniel was knowledgeable in Wingling ways, for a Human, but he still might not understand.

But…if he rejected her, it would likely break her heart. She loved him, she knew that for a certainty. He was the man she had always wanted, even before she’d realized she wanted a mate to begin with. He was caring, strong, kind, and exciting. She admired him and all the positive qualities he showed, from his gentle touch to his unwavering sense of justice.

Ahma felt a swell of excitement. He seemed fond of her…more than fond of her. She hoped this would go well. She risked much with this, but she couldn’t bear to contain her feelings for him anymore. At night her heart grew weak and the valley of her legs warm and moist as he drew near. She had barely been able to stop herself last night at such a simple kiss.

The Wingling girl jumped at the knock at the door. She rose and cracked the door open, then sighed in relief and let Master Methaniel entered. He shook his head, a tight, hard look on his handsome face as he unbelted his sword and propped it against the wall.

“Damn street hustlers trying to cheat me,” he grumbled.

His face lost much of its irritation as his eyes fell on his companion, smiling softly at him in amusement.

“Hello, Ahma. I’ve never seen you wear your hair like that. Very regal,” he commented with a playful wink. “Quite Lady like. The court women will likely adapt it immediately as the latest fashion.”

“I wonder if they’ll adopt the frump brown dress look as well.”

He laughed. “Are you ready for dinner? The tavern is starting to get busy.”

Ahma nodded. “Yes, I suppose we should eat before it gets late.”

They went to the tavern and had a pleasant meal. The food was good, especially for how low the price was. Their bar maid sold them the house special wine for half price, though neither were particularly sure why. Ahma only drank half her glass, fearing what effects the strong alcohol could have on her body. It seemed to do little, however. She wished she had partaken more from the sweet stuff; perhaps it would relax her enough for what was to come.

Methaniel went to tend to the fire when they entered the room, throwing some logs on to chase away the chill. He turned to Ahma. The Wingling girl was fiddling with her hair.

“Are you ready to change?” he asked.

“Master Merie, can you help me with something?” she asked. Her back was turned to him as she sat upon the bed.

“Of course,” he nodded, watching her.

“Some of my hair has caught in my feathers…can you help me get them back in order, please?”

Methaniel stood, motionless, staring at her for what seemed like a long, long time. The Nobleman had an idea of what a request like this was truly about…piecing together conversations with her on the Wingling ways, as well as things her brothers had told him, gave him a pretty clear picture. Winglings did not allow those outside their family to touch their wings…especially someone of the opposite sex. And for a Wingling Maiden to suggest such a thing…there were implications to such a request.

He drew closer and slowly sat on the bed behind her. There was no hair stuck in the feathers.

The Wingling woman stretched her wings out more fully, offering them to him. She offered that which was most precious to her, her feathers, her wings, her bond with sky and air and all things graceful and beautiful. It was a precious gift she put forth to him in many, many ways. She showed her full, complete trust in him, and her submission to his care.

Methaniel’s fingertips, calloused and thick, caressed along her sleek, smooth feathers in a light, soothing touch that gently smoothed the feathers into place. He shivered unconsciously, marveling at the soft, perfect feel of them.

“You…are certain?” he whispered into her ear.

Suddenly he was close, very close. His heart beat against her back and his warmth washed over her body. She could feel the solidness of him.

“Yes, Master…I am certain,” she breathed thickly. Somehow, she didn’t sound nervous. She was thankful for that.

Several moments passed in which he continued to smooth and caress her wings, letting her feel his gentle, loving touch and understand that he would not rush nor harm her.

His arms were around her, embracing her in a way that was at once familiar and foreign. She’d spent much time in his arms over the last several months. But this was not the comforting, friendly embrace meant to warm and sooth. This was intimate, erotic, and encompassing. His hands, his huge powerful hands, slid around the front of her body, stroking her flat belly and sides. They dipped under the hem of her tunic, tracing the soft, formed lines of her abdomen.

She giggled at his touch, unable to help herself as she relaxed and enjoyed this new sensation. His hands felt comforting yet highly arousing. She sighed softly and leaned back against him. Her wings made this slightly awkward for a moment before she adjusted them in a way that allowed her to fit against his body perfectly.

Methaniel’s lips were upon her neck, placing soft kisses on her silken flesh before gently putting light suction on her skin. His tongue and lips caressed and tasted her. His hands, massaging and caressing her tight, toned flesh, slowly slip up her supple body.

She pressed her head against him, turning to one side to give him more access to her sweet slender neck. His kisses sent chills down her spine and sparked nerves between her thighs. At the same time her heart began to beat very fast. She was sure this was what she wanted, but through her excitement she felt a twinge of nervousness. As his fingers crept under her shirt and up her stomach the hot, churning feeling in her grew.

His mouth became more insistent, tasting and slowly licking at her soft, hot flesh. His hands rose beneath her shirt, gently cupped the most prominent and generous of her sexual assets, and squeezed.

Ahma let out a noise, a mixture of giggle, moan, and surprised gasp. His hands continued to squeeze about her breasts, feeling the plentiful orbs. They were very soft and gave to his fingers easily. It seemed to him he could sink to more than a knuckle deep if he wanted. It didn’t hurt her; it only made her swoon more. He was amazed, confounded as to how such a soft, supple, fleshy bosom could remain so shapely and firm, holding to their perfectly rounded teardrop form. They were quite heavy in his hands, possessing a delicious weight and warmth.

His fingers moved across the ridge of her areola. Even crinkled inward they felt quite wide. Both her nipples were rigid with excitement and were large enough even for his fingers.

Ahma gasped in air, squeaking when he first squeezed her nipples. She felt a heavy splash of warmth between her legs. Her wings twitched and jerked slightly with her pleasure.

Methaniel gathered her into his arms and turned her to face him, settling her slender, light body on his lap. His lips pressed tightly to hers. One of his hands reached around her to stroke and caress the small of her back, his strong fingers working out the nervous tension. His other hand busily, gently, yet firmly fondled the juicy globe of her right breast. Despite the huge size of his hands he could only fit a small portion of the enormous bosom into his grip. His fingers tweaked and twisted at her thick thumb-sized pink nipple and tugged at it slightly. His arms were warm and strong around her, the heavily toned muscle rippling against her.

Passionately he kissed her, strong yet gentle and wanting without being overly demanding. His hand rubbed her fleshy breast in slow, sensual circles, lightly pulling at them as he squeezed. Ahma groaned into his kiss, her own hands sliding along his body, feeling the power of him, the warmth that radiated from his tight flesh. Her hand rose up to his head to slide through his thick hair of burnished copper. She reveled in his attention and she lightly slid her thighs together in unconscious pleasure.

Methaniel shifted again, gently laying her onto her back, waiting for her to adjust her wings. He gazed down at her, smiling lovingly as he slowly pulled the tunic over the swollen mounds of her bosom.

The Master took in the sight of her perfect torso. The intensive training she’d been undergoing for the last month or so had taken her already tight, slender form and shaped her into glorious fitness. She had all the softness and delicacy of a woman, yet her flesh was taught and firm around her frame, and her belly was lined with the feminine but well formed grooves along her toned abs. Her skin was even more pale and creamy than that of her face.

Her breasts were generous even for a Wingling maiden, by far the largest he’d ever seen. They were superbly rounded, full and perky and high on her chest, with a deliciously deep valley of cleavage. They were pale indeed, with thick, large nipples of a rose-pink color, and the widest, most alluring areolas the Nobleman had ever laid eyes on. The twin globes bounced and jiggled about, flopping softly, sensually as they sprang free of the tunic, which had somehow been squishing them down and holding them back in a futile attempt to restrain them.

Methaniel’s began to gently, sensually palm and massage Ahma’s aching tits, watching his huge fingers sink in to nearly half way to his second knuckle in the pliant flesh of Ahma’s tits. He marveled at the way the flesh popped back into perfect rounded shape as he pulled his fingers away.

Ahma sighed happily at the attention, arching her back to press her breasts into his hands. She smiled as he stared at her and savored his ministrations to her sensitive bosom.

Methaniel helped her sit up to fully remove her tunic. He gently guided her wings out of the slits in the back, which pleased her. Then she boldly kissed him, a firm, open mouthed kiss as he tossed the shirt aside. Her lust and need rose, guiding her into motions she didn’t fully understand but heartily embraced anyway. She sucked on his lips, separating them and sliding her tongue into his mouth. He felt warm and quite nice as he suckled on her tongue. To him her licks and wildly moving tongue offered nothing but pleasure and excitement.

As their kiss broke Methaniel pushed her back down to the bed, smiling at her. He lowered his head and traced a trail down her gorgeous body with his lips till he reached the deep, long valley of her cleavage.

Methaniel’s tongue slid slowly but firmly down the crevice of bosom flesh then back up, playing his mouth at the upper slopes of her juicy orbs. He licked along the plump flesh, every now and then pausing to kiss or suck. The Nobleman took a large mouthful of her soft bosom flesh between his lips, licking and sucking at it before pulling back to gaze at her shining saliva coated orbs.

His tongue found and began to lick her wide areola, loving the taste of her flesh as he lavished attention on the pink disk. Then his lips closed around her thick, throbbing nipple and suckled it firmly. Ahma moaned with joy and pleasure. She wiggled underneath him, sliding her body along his. His cock felt hard pressed against her abdomen, a stiff feeling even her dreams couldn’t match. It pressed against her, straining the fabric of his trousers.

She tugged on his shirt. Methaniel complied, peeling it from his body and tossing it off the bed. She shivered as his hot torso came to rest on hers. His warmth spread through her as never before. His muscles rippling directly against her sensitive flesh made her writhe.

His mouth returned to her heated bosom and sucked her stiff nipple back in. One large hand reached up and squeezed her free tit, kneading it and pulling at it gently as his tongue lashed against the nipple in his mouth. He wrapped his tongue around the huge nub and flicked it firmly. His free hand ran down her slender side. Her breasts and nipples tasted sweet. He gently pulled at the one in his mouth with his teeth and began to lightly, lovingly nibble at it.

One of Ahma’s hands found its way back to his head and tangled with his hair, swirling it around. She rubbed his scalp, a gentle approval of his actions. Methaniel glanced up at her. She smiled down at him, moaning lightly as she gave his head a small shove into her cleavage.

He released the breast he’d been sucking and watched as it bounced and wobbled back onto her chest. The Nobleman shifted and sat up, smiling warmly as his hand slid down her body. His eyes gazed into hers as he slipped his hand under the waist of her trousers. He caressed her legs tenderly, gently squeezing the firm yet supple flesh of her inner thighs.

Ahma’s heart fluttered in her chest. Never before had a man’s hands gotten this close to her womanhood.

Methaniel’s hands were gentle and careful on her skin. Perhaps he could sense her nervousness, or maybe he was simply savoring the experience. It didn’t matter to Ahma which was the case; she was lost in a world of jittery excitement. She couldn’t wait for what was to come. Part of her couldn’t believe it.

He pulled her leggings down. The milky skin of her belly gave way past her cute little belly button to the cut of her thighs. Nestled between them lay a plump, full, hairless mound. Unlike some Wingling, there were no feathers gracing her pussy, leaving it bald and naked entirely.

The mound had a plump top that spread into long, full, engorged lips. It had a small dimple at the top where the lips met. They parted slightly, giving a peek into the soft pink inside.