Riven Stoke
Mr. Tags on Toes
"Wait a minute, wait a minute..." Riven says he pauses mid-swig. "You went skinning-dipping, on a private island, with the prince regent..." The swig finally finishes, much long than usual, even for him. "I watched thousands of dead men accept fate in Lauryl, and you were off gallivanting nude on a prince's island. Almost makes me wish I was a sailor." The wine skin is handed back to her, and Riven's cut and worn hand returns to the curves of Rosie's thigh. "Almost."
His eyelids begin to feel heavy with her warmth around him. It had been so long since he fell asleep with her in his arms. Not since Farwater, he recalls. Cursed Farwater, his soldiers call it. A waste of time and life if ever there was one. He followed Valanthia there on some ill-fated idea of the common good. Such idealism no longer exists in Riven now. His only ideal lies with the men in this tavern, the family back east, and the woman inside his arms right now. There was one good thing to come out of Farwater, at least. It gave him a reason to unleash hell on K'terak. All he needed were a few more men. And ships.
"If running away with you meant fighting the Xet in Arakmat, again, and the undead in Arakmat, again, I think I'll stand by my decision." With a laugh, he playfully bats away Rosie's tickling hands and reciprocates along her sides. His hands slowly moving from tickling to rubbing, massaging around her hips. Then her thighs. Then the insides of her thighs. "I'll keep my place inside your bed. In fact, I'll keep my place inside you."
His hand spreads her leg wide and he quickly exploits the gap. His hips nest themselves snuggly between her thighs as he feels his shaft slowly rising, desperate for more. But nothing screams urgency as his weight slowly conflates atop her. He keeps his elbows rigid over the mattress lest his massive frame suffocate her, but his hands wrap around her back as much as they can, softly scratching the insides of her shoulder blades. For anyone with half a bit of common sense, this is all just an obviously ploy to deflect from Rosie's question about Riven's future. He has a feeling that I don't know wouldn't be a sufficient answer. A part of him wants to say he needed to recruit more men, more Vagarans, if his grandiose plans are ever to come to fruition. Another wants to tell her he'll need to head back to Bärentatze and build his lands if he wants them to be anything more than some remote logging camp. But both those options mean leaving Rosie. Not nearly as long as this months-long departure, but long enough for there to be a fight about it. For what else was their relationship but the ebb and flow between fighting and fucking?
"All I know what's next for me is laying right in front of my eyes," he says, finally. She feels the ribbing of his foreskin thrum over her clit, an obvious distraction but hopefully a successful one nonetheless. And if Riven has anything, it's a bevy of distractions. He raises his hand beside him, towards the hearth, and his fingers stretch out to a large log beside the fire, yet consumed. "Oh, and my future also involves mastering this," Riven continues, taking his eyes off her for a split moment to focus his attention and energy to the log. After what seems like a lifetime, it begins to jiggle. Then it lifts with the rise of the Vagaran's hand, until it stutters violently in the air and plops into the fire. He winces as the log crashes down and sends embers everywhere. "As you can see, I need a lot more practice."
A smile forms as his face returns to hers, tasting her lips and tongue while his chest rubs up and down over her tits. "Why don't you tell me what's in your future," He says between kisses, eyes closed. He's tired, but he'll sacrifice the world if it means feeling her womanhood again first. "And try not to be preoccupied by this..." His cock slowly splits past her slit and continues inside her at a slow, relaxed pace.
His eyelids begin to feel heavy with her warmth around him. It had been so long since he fell asleep with her in his arms. Not since Farwater, he recalls. Cursed Farwater, his soldiers call it. A waste of time and life if ever there was one. He followed Valanthia there on some ill-fated idea of the common good. Such idealism no longer exists in Riven now. His only ideal lies with the men in this tavern, the family back east, and the woman inside his arms right now. There was one good thing to come out of Farwater, at least. It gave him a reason to unleash hell on K'terak. All he needed were a few more men. And ships.
"If running away with you meant fighting the Xet in Arakmat, again, and the undead in Arakmat, again, I think I'll stand by my decision." With a laugh, he playfully bats away Rosie's tickling hands and reciprocates along her sides. His hands slowly moving from tickling to rubbing, massaging around her hips. Then her thighs. Then the insides of her thighs. "I'll keep my place inside your bed. In fact, I'll keep my place inside you."
His hand spreads her leg wide and he quickly exploits the gap. His hips nest themselves snuggly between her thighs as he feels his shaft slowly rising, desperate for more. But nothing screams urgency as his weight slowly conflates atop her. He keeps his elbows rigid over the mattress lest his massive frame suffocate her, but his hands wrap around her back as much as they can, softly scratching the insides of her shoulder blades. For anyone with half a bit of common sense, this is all just an obviously ploy to deflect from Rosie's question about Riven's future. He has a feeling that I don't know wouldn't be a sufficient answer. A part of him wants to say he needed to recruit more men, more Vagarans, if his grandiose plans are ever to come to fruition. Another wants to tell her he'll need to head back to Bärentatze and build his lands if he wants them to be anything more than some remote logging camp. But both those options mean leaving Rosie. Not nearly as long as this months-long departure, but long enough for there to be a fight about it. For what else was their relationship but the ebb and flow between fighting and fucking?
"All I know what's next for me is laying right in front of my eyes," he says, finally. She feels the ribbing of his foreskin thrum over her clit, an obvious distraction but hopefully a successful one nonetheless. And if Riven has anything, it's a bevy of distractions. He raises his hand beside him, towards the hearth, and his fingers stretch out to a large log beside the fire, yet consumed. "Oh, and my future also involves mastering this," Riven continues, taking his eyes off her for a split moment to focus his attention and energy to the log. After what seems like a lifetime, it begins to jiggle. Then it lifts with the rise of the Vagaran's hand, until it stutters violently in the air and plops into the fire. He winces as the log crashes down and sends embers everywhere. "As you can see, I need a lot more practice."
A smile forms as his face returns to hers, tasting her lips and tongue while his chest rubs up and down over her tits. "Why don't you tell me what's in your future," He says between kisses, eyes closed. He's tired, but he'll sacrifice the world if it means feeling her womanhood again first. "And try not to be preoccupied by this..." His cock slowly splits past her slit and continues inside her at a slow, relaxed pace.