Talla's Temple Ch. 07

"You're all right?"

"Yep!"

He winced as the pain of her assault finally hit his brain. "Gods! Is it always going to hurt when we meet?"

"Maybe," she said, still pinning him down and smiling exuberantly as water poured from the cistern to spray on her back. "I hope not."

It is wise, one of the teachers had told her, to begin with kissing.

She fell upon him, then, not sure how it was that men and women went about kissing, but certain that it was the right thing to do. Their lips met. Their eyes closed. It was all that either had wanted for so long. Sweet release was found in the knowledge that the other had wanted it too, that the feeling hadn't been a dream, that the exchange when their eyes had met so briefly was as real and strong as it was simple.

His arms, thin but hard and sinewy, wrapped around her back, pulling her closer, squeezing her. She winced as her breasts were compressed between their bodies. He felt her pain in the tensing of her lips and stopped. His eyes opened.

"Sorry," he said. "Are you okay?"

She nodded as she tried to gloss over the pain, not wanting to spoil the moment.

"They're kind of sore," she said, "since the upgrade."

That was a sore spot of its own. Concern came to his expression. That and guilt. Zhair'lo looked down at her body for the first time. His eyes widened.

"Whoa," he whispered, awe wiping away his shame.

She smiled and looked around. They weren't supposed to do this sort of thing out of doors. Violation of Protocol. But this was what she'd waited for and she could wait no longer. Besides, there was no one in sight to catch her.

"Wanna see?"

She didn't wait for his answer. She sat up, bending her neck downward so she could watch his expression despite the water pouring over the back of her head. The water washed through her hair and spilled on to his chest as she reached around her back to undo the straps of her top.

It was a heroic thing, that top, faithfully and gently containing her recent acquisitions. But it's job was done. It had taken her here, where she'd been going for what seemed like ages, and it was time for it to get out of the way.

Through the veil of water running through the hair draped in front of her face, she watched his eyes as she pulled the already soaked top away from her chest. His reaction was everything she could have hoped for. His mouth formed an 'o' and his eyes widened in astonishment.

"You overdid it a little," she said as she she leaned over him again, bringing her nipples to graze his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Guilt, then, returned.

"I hurt you," he said.

She felt him tensing up.

"I must have done it wrong."

"No," she assured him. "You did it right. It wasn't your fault. You were just given too much."

That assuaged him somewhat. She kissed him again, on purpose to melt away his worries. When he was relaxed once more, she pulled away.

His eyes opened slowly, calmly. That was better.

"We're going to get muddy," he said.

She giggled and rolled away from the well, pulling him on top of her.

"Just a sec," he pleaded. He stood up to fix the spigot and stop the water flow. She watched the last of it splash over his arm. It was delicious, just lying there in the grass half naked, watching him stand over her, waiting for him to come back. She didn't want to get up. She just wanted to stay there in the grass, soak in the moment, feel the anticipation and let him come to her.

Her skirt was in the way. She pulled it up so he could kneel between her legs. She sighed and wished she had dropped the underwear somewhere. It was enough for now that she could wrap her bare thighs around his waist while her arms embraced him. They kissed again. She felt him now, straining against the light cloth of his pants, pushing up against her.

Here? Could they do it here?

Yes. Yes. Clearly they could. Protocols be damned.

There were ties on his pants. She undid them while they kissed. He lifted his body enough so that, with her feet, she could push his last piece of clothing off his body. Their lips never separated. Just one last thing ...

His body met hers again, his erection pushing at the stupid pair of underwear she had foolishly chosen to wear. What was she going to do about that? Zhair'lo fumbled with the lace on her skirt, getting it undone and laying the material out like a blanket..

All right. Time to take charge. With a twist, she rolled him over again and hovered for a moment on her knees.

Trust to courage, more than one teacher had said. Be bold with men. Tarry not. It is we, the women, who hold everything together.

Courage, then. She had nothing to hide and nothing to fear. She was a woman of the Temple and proud of her body and the Service she performed. She stood up, ever so slowly, as she looked down in to his eyes, watching them trace over her flesh. She felt that gaze as it slid down her neck, caressed her breasts and gently found its way to her last piece of clothing.

Biting her lower lip in anticipation, she put her legs tightly together and began pushing that last piece of clothing, her last protection against the night air, down her thighs. Completely rapt with fascination, Zhair'lo stared unabashedly at the triangle between her thighs, the soft flesh, untouched by any man, that was to be his in just a moment.

The white garment hit the ground. She stepped out of it and moved her feet so she was standing over him again. His erection indicated his readiness, standing proudly away from his stomach.

You're going to put that where ...?

Their eyes met and she sank down to her knees. The moment of truth. She lowered herself until the tip of his penis met the outside of her lips. Close now. She was wet. She could feel it where he touched her, where her own juices met the little bit that leaked from his manhood.

"Gently," she whispered.

Barely able to breath, he could but nod in response. He would not be a part of hurting her again.

She paused a moment, gathering her resolve. Courage. Courage.

She pushed, feeling the head of his penis, swollen, engorged with blood, pushing up inside her. Their juices mixed.

...

Panic!

He couldn't speak. He wanted to scream her name.

Talla!

She was inside his head. He was inside her body. He could feel her from the inside. His vision was doubled. He could see her and see himself from her eyes.

Talla!

She couldn't speak either.

Relentlessly, like a force of nature, a choice was made. Neither could tell who made the choice. But the decision was complete. Her body came down - hard. There was a rush of pleasure and a moment of pain and fear.

Talla!

Ecstasy and fear.

She couldn't speak, but she could feel his alarm.

"It's okay," she seemed to say, in that place where there were no words. "I've been here before. It's safe."

They didn't move for a while, absorbing the feeling of sex from both sides. He could feel his own pleasure at penetrating her and feel her pleasure at being penetrated. She could do the same. She radiated her calmness to him, letting him know it was normal, while she tried to sort the feelings of her body from his.

Now she knew what it was to mesh. What she and Sila had once shared was the same thing. It was a gift from the gods, the force that bound men to women, the relay that brought the peace of the Temple to all those around it.

When the panic passed, when the shock and pain had relented, she found she could see herself through his eyes. She could focus on what he saw and then gently return to her own body. But he was ever present. She could feel him, too, moving around in her body and behind her eyes.

She -- or they - started to move her body, her hips making gentle circles, forcing the head of his shaft to slowly rotate inside her, stretching her. She couldn't decide what feeling that invoked. It was odd and uncomfortable and daring all at once.

He was there, swelling painfully inside, at the limits of his willpower.

"It's fine," she promised inside his mind. "Release. Relent."

He didn't want to but couldn't help himself. She felt all of her breath leave her lungs in anticipation. His muscles tensed, trying to hold off what was so clearly inevitable. He never wanted this moment to end. That was obvious. But with a final twist of her hips, she forced it from him.

She had made nine boys ejaculate with her hands. She knew what a twitching male member felt like. She knew when it was close to coming. But to feel the tension inside her body, with all of the swelling and stretching was a whole other matter.

She could feel him trying to hold off. He held, and held, and ...

A bolt of lightning fired through her spine. She cried out as the line between agony and ecstasy was irretrievably blurred. She felt what it was to be him, coming inside her. He felt what it was to be her, impaled to all her depth with a rod of iron pumping hot fluid within. His vision blurred. For a moment, they were two minds joined in mindlessness.

Neither could say whose body twitched more violently, nor who it was that screamed, nor how long it lasted. He could only vaguely see her, in his clouded unreality, as she glowed with a faint blue aura in the moonlight, her head thrown back as she rode him to his end. For herself, she could see nothing.

Inga was with Nikrit. They were in no particular hurry. With experience came patience. After some time spent kissing and caressing, she had pushed him on his back and slid down to the floor beside his bed. She was just beginning to use her tongue to better engage his arousal when she felt a wave of dizziness overcome her.

It was fortunate, she knew, that she was kneeling down when it happened. She might have fallen over otherwise.

She could sense the direction. The wave had come, vaguely, from somewhere on the other side of the house.

Nikrit looked down at her, wondering why she had paused. He wouldn't have felt it. Men didn't.

That had been a strong one. Amazing for someone as young as Talla to let her orgasm be felt across such a distance. She would have to see where Zhair'lo's room was. Later. She had Nikrit to take care of.

It was a privilege of a Goddess, to come up alone to the roof of her domain. There were three storeys to her offices and living quarters. There were two stairways from the top floor to the roof. She would sit on a reclined, cushioned chair on a raised platform facing two altars, and gaze out from that vantage over the whole of her Temple and the city beyond.

More than eight thousand women were under her command and on any given night some two to three thousand of them went out to Serve the men of the city, to deliver her strength and her peace to all.

When she sat there, above the stone and wood and mortar, she could feel them. With many upgrades came that skill. With Perfection came vast improvement of the skill. She could feel every one of those thousands of climaxes, going off like popcorn in a fire. They were visible to her, the closer ones, in a weird way that wasn't quite seeing. They were like the little blue sparks that fell from her hair and eyelashes. She could see them at night and feel them wash over her like water softly lapping at a sandy beach.

She would come up here, when she had time, to reach under her skirt and gently stroke herself in the tide of those thousands of orgasms beating down on her body. Orgasm would come to her, too, as she pressed her clitoris towards her vagina. It wouldn't be the violent rapture that she shared with men, but a gentle tingle between her legs that would lock up her leg muscles and bring a sigh to her lips.

Then she would stand, as she did now, glowing faintly with that pleasant aura, to let her clothing fall in place as she watched the last of the sparks going off in the houses nearest the Temple.

What a wonderful -

Confusion, then. An expression of curiosity crossed her face; incredulity at the sensation that had struck her at the base of her the spine. Somewhere behind her, there'd been a particularly strong one. It wasn't enough to affect her in any serious way, but it stood out.

She turned, looking out over Form's triangle. Was Form or one of her Sorceresses Serving tonight? Proximity was the logical explanation. But no. Although she hadn't been facing the right way, she knew it had come from further out than that.

Odd.

Talla had fallen upon him.

They were separate again, both in body and in mind. He laid there, stunned speechless, and looked down at her, resting her weary head on his shoulder. He became aware of the heaviness of his breathing, the sweat from their bodies, their legs tangled up and her breasts against his ribs.

Time passed, incomprehensibly. He watched the half moon move across the sky. He had no desire to move yet. It was enough just to be here.

"That's how it is?" he asked, some time later, still staring off in to the sky.

"Meshed," she said, not yet capable of meeting his eyes. "We meshed."

"It's always like this?"

A pause.

"I wouldn't know. They only taught me the word."

That was a thought. She knew as little of this as he did. She had taken the lead. She had known what to do and how to do it. She had made sure that she didn't get hurt -- at least not too much. She had made it so he expected her to know everything.

"Can we do it again?"

She perked up at this, found some manual dexterity. Propping herself up on his chest, she looked at him from so close he almost went cross-eyed.

She nodded and said, "Yeah, but we should go inside. We're really not supposed to do it outside."

"Really? Why not?"

She shrugged. "Rules."

He would have taken her just about anywhere if it meant having sex again. The inside of a house seemed a minor quibble.

She got up on her knees, a vaguely cheerful expression on her face, and located her top. It went back on first, gently. Then he had to get up so she could take the skirt that had served for their blanket. He laced up his pants while she tied off her skirt. Her last tiny piece of clothing was lying in the grass. He retrieved it for her.

"Don't really need it," Talla said. "Turns out most women don't wear anything underneath when they go out."

Fair enough. They were just going back to the house for more anyway. He tucked it in to the lace at the side of his pants. No one would see it there.

Inga was cooling her heels. She'd finished with Nikrit some time ago and had left him thoroughly unconscious. She was proud of her work and didn't consider it a job well done if her man could still stand up when she was done with him.

That being done, and most of the men gone to sleep, she waited casually for Talla to come down the stairs from Zhair'lo's room. There hadn't been any further orgasms -- not that she could feel.

So she waited, knowing that it was Talla's first time and that she deserved all the time she wanted. On the other hand, it was getting ridiculous and Inga was starting to get annoyed.

That was when the door opened. Not one of the bedroom doors up the stairs, but the main entrance. Talla came in first, breathless, pulling a boy behind her. Presumably, this was Zhair'lo.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"We, uh, went for a walk."

"Needed some fresh air?"

There was a guilty look about the two of them, more Talla than Zhair'lo, but it was overwhelmed by the clear and abundant joy in their eyes.

Inga couldn't help but laugh. There was no point scolding them now. She had no right to be upset at Zhair'lo anyway, and anything she said to Talla would be meaningless.

"It's near eleventh bell," she told the younger girl. "We have to get going."

"Oh. Right."

She turned to Zhair'lo, somewhat apologetically. "We're supposed to be back by midnight."

He seemed disappointed, even as he nodded understandingly. "Some other time," he said.

Inga frowned slightly.

"Let's get going," she said firmly.

Talla nodded. Her eyes met Zhair'lo's. They embraced - fondly and briefly - and separated. They hadn't even had the chance to close the door so it was easy for Inga to shoo Talla out.

Passion was normal, especially after the first time, but Inga still felt odd about the way the two of them had acted. When they were a good distance from the house, keeping her voice as casual as she could, she spoke.

"The first of many," she said. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Talla replied in quiet awe.

"So you Served him and then ... wandered out for a walk?"

Talla hummed noncommittally in response.

Inga let the question hang in the air, forcing Talla to elucidate.

"I didn't know how much time had passed," she finally said. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Inga told her.

They walked a bit longer in silence.

"How come no one told me it would be like that?"

"Which part?"

"Meshing."

Inga smiled knowingly.

"Suppose, young lady," Inga replied, sounding very much like a teacher, "that I were a Virgin on my way out to cut my long skirt. How would you describe meshing to me?"

Talla actually stopped walking and fell behind two paces before Inga noticed. They turned to look at each other. After a moment, Talla eyes went thoughtfully downward. She made fists with both of her hands and held them in the air pointing at each other. Inga watched with amusement as the younger woman pushed her fists together, letting the second row of knuckles on each hand interlace with the other. She then squeezed her fingers tightly, locking the fists together, and meanwhile tried to pull them apart with her arms.

Inga raised an eyebrow, so Talla went on. She held her interlocked hands up at her eye level and looked through the curves of her fingers at Inga.

"It's like you're inside his head," Talla said as she wiggled one set of fingertips. Then she wiggled the other set, adding, "and he's inside yours."

Inga looked at those fingertips, representing, apparently, each person's perspective pointed back at him or herself, and frowned.

"Not quite," she said, "but that's the best explanation I've heard."

The two of them continued walking.

"That's why we don't bother trying to explain it", Inga added with an officious note of finality.

Which was odd, because Talla thought that she had explained it exactly right.

Zhair'lo pushed his bedroom shutters open.

The half moon was still up, lighting the path back toward the Temple. Off in the distance, he could see Talla and her friend walking away.

That had been something.

Three days ago, he hadn't even known what sex was, nor what it was to be Served. A woman in orange had patiently explained all of that in addition to his part in Talla's upgrade. He'd felt stupid but the woman had been kind. He couldn't have been the first stupid person she'd educated.

And then, this night, defying all expectation, Talla had come to him.

He suddenly realized that there was so much he should have asked. He should have asked about the ritual, about the pain she had felt, about the pain he had felt, about what was normal and what wasn't. Those questions were still in his head but he'd been so happy just to see her that he'd never thought to ask.

No, it was enough to have had this night with her. Talking about pain and rituals would have ruined it.

As the two women passed out of his sight, he turned away from the window without closing it. Let the cooling night air come in to his room for all he cared. As he stripped off for bed, he was momentarily disturbed to find Talla's little white underwear tucked in to his pants.

Should he run after her? Probably not. He was tired and he hadn't liked the frown that woman had tossed his way. No point causing trouble. If Talla needed it back, she would have to come get it some other day.

He folded up the little piece of cloth in to a neat triangle and tucked it away at the back of his dresser. It would be safe there.