BewareTheDream
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2012
- Posts
- 336
It was hard to decide which was better: The orgasm the rocked Raeth to his very core, or seeing Saudaji happy with him.
The climax he had just experienced was better than he thought possible. It made him want to scream, joyously, but the only sound that came out was a dreamy sigh. But Saudaji's smile, the flush of her cheeks, and how she opened to him in more than one way - those were precious, too. All these things combined into something so good, something he never knew he wanted nor needed until she showed him way.
Raeth's body was jolted by the long, hot streaks of cum that burst out of him. Her insides were painted in white. Much of his mind was lost to the bliss, yet there was just enough of him there to notice that her pussy clamped down on him differently, somehow. It felt possessive. It was so tight it became painful in all the right ways. It was like Saudaji was using her body to tell him she would never let him go.
It may have been his bliss-addled imagination. But he didn't care if he was wrong. His heart leapt at the thought of her being as obsessed with him as he was with her, so he took it. He took it all in at the same time that he emptied so much of himself into her.
The Twi'lek huntress got what she wanted - she milked him of every last drop. Despite the fact that his balls had been emptied, his body still shuddered as though he was still cumming. What they just shared was felt so powerful that even the aftershocks each felt like little orgasms; and he received an aftershock from even the tiniest movements.
The whole thing was so good, it made him black out for a moment. Saudaji had her face nuzzled against his neck, so she didn't see the goofy and utterly satisfied smile on his face. She did, however, notice him fall backwards onto the bed. How could she not? With his arms wound about her, he dragged her down with him.
He didn't realize he had blacked out. One moment he was seated on the bed, happily squeezed between her thighs and dizzy in the heat that enveloped him - her heat. The next moment, he was on his back, and Saudaji was sprawled atop him. The smell of her sweat made him alert. The feel of her melted against him brought a smile to his face. He luxuriated in her. He even luxuriated in the aches that flared at key parts around his body.
Although flaccid and thoroughly depleted, he didn't even think of removing himself from her depths. He lay there, resting, with one hand planted, possessively, on the back of one of her thighs. The other hand caressed her spine, lightly, languidly. On the upward stroke, his fingertip was on her flesh. On the downward stroke, it was his knuckles.
Saudaji had her face buried against the side of his neck. She was welcome to cuddle with him like this whenever she wanted. At that moment, she whispered something to him. Because her mouth was right up against his flesh, some of the words were muffled. He heard enough, though, to recognize she was speaking Mando'a. Abruptly, he was reminded of something that happened two nights ago:
*****
Those talented fingers of his were used to working with metal and electronics. But woodworking? Not so much.
Raeth knew that the Mandalorian carvings he was working on wouldn't come close to matching the quality of the originals, which decorated the doorways inside of the Splendid Place. It was true that he was exceptionally good with his hands. But talent alone couldn't get him on the same level as the Mandalorian craftsmen who worked with wood, bone, and stone their entire lives. Not overnight.
But as he evaluated the carvings atop his workbench - a handful of pieces he had completed over the past couple of sleepless nights - he thought to himself that they weren't bad at all, especially for a non-Mandalorian. Besides, he expected Saudaji would appreciate the thought and the effort more than the quality. As long as the carvings correctly represented her adopted family lineage, she would be pleased.
He hoped she would be pleased.
Raeth worked mostly from memory. During the tour of her ship, Saudaji made it clear how important the carvings were to her. The way she touched them reminded him of how museum curators handled holy artifacts during the the assembly of a new exhibit. Thus, when she showed them to him, he studied them, closely, and took mental images of each and every one. He based his current work off of those mental pictures.
Technology helped, too. His datapad was propped up next to the carvings; he used it to read up on the basics of Mandalorian woodcraft and the significance of their symbolism. During his research, he happened upon instructional videos that taught beginner's Mando'a.
"Hmph. Why not?" Raeth thought outloud. He played the language videos, and practiced along with the recorded, Human instructor. She would say a common word or phrase in Mando'a, translate it into Basic, repeat it in Mando'a, and then she would give the listener a chance to repeat. Raeth listened and repeated what he heard while he carefully shaped the piece of wood in his hand into something that represented Saudaji's great-grandmother.
"Aay'han," the woman on the video said. "A moment of bittersweet joy. Aay'han."
"Aay'han," Raeth repeated, his eyes transfixed on the piece of wood and the knife that cut into it.
"Ade. Children; sons; daughters. Ade."
"Ade."
"Beroya. Bounty hunter. Beroya."
"Beroya." Many minutes had passed, and Raeth was really focused on the carving. He was repeating the words mechanically. Nevertheless, the lessons were remembered.
"Cyare. Beloved; precious one. Cyare."
"Cyare." Raeth did not realize this, but 'cyare' was a term that most Mandalorians used when referring to offspring. The video did not explain that it wasn't generally said between lovers.
" Kar'taylir darasuum. Love. Kar'taylir darasuum."
" Kar'taylir darasuum. Heh," Raeth chuckled to himself. "That's a lot of syllables for 'love.'"
The rest of the night was spent carving and listening to a long-dead Human woman introducing him to Mando'a.
*****
"Kar'taylir darasuum," Raeth thought he heard Saudaji say those words, among other things, just then. He wasn't entirely sure, because he was still drunk from her loving, plus she whispered it against his neck.
A thousand thoughts raced through his head in a matter of seconds. Was she in love with him? What did 'love' even mean, anyway? Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? How did they go from almost killing each other a few weeks ago to this? How would this compllicate their mission? What was this?
He lay still and silent for several seconds, feeling her, thinking. Was this love? He didn't know. Love was not something he knew, at all.
His train of thought rushed to things that he did know. There was always comfort in knowledge. He knew that he couldn't stop thinking about her. He knew that - as obsessive as was - he had never obsessed over anyone or anything like he did with her.
He knew how exhilirated he felt whenever Saudaji expressed her pleasure in him. He knew how light-headed he felt whenever she smiled. He knew that, lately, whenever his mind raced uncomfortably, the things he would think about to calm his thoughts were how she looked when she slept, how her skin smelled, or her voice when she sang as Dian'La.
He knew how awful he felt for the past week. Being separated from her made him feel physically ill at times, which was one of the main reasons why he spent his days remodeling her room and bathroom, and his nights carving her family symbols. Those projects helped him through a real shit week.
What he knew was that when he was with her, he felt thrilled and confused at the same time. Those were two emotions he rarely ever felt. Yet they were emotions she could make him feel just by being with him.
If all those things weren't love, what else could they be?
Conveniently, the subject of his thoughts stirred at the same time he made his decision. She drizzled kisses all over his face, which made him smile. The smile that she saw was peaceful, despite the fact that his heart and his thoughts were both racing.
Saudaji's face was directly above his. He reached up to cup the sides of her head. Eyes on hers, he whispered this confession to her in her family's language:
"Gar ner cyare, Saudaji."
You are my beloved.
Now, because the instructional video he found on the holonet was a poor substitude to a formal linguistic education, the phrase wasn't quite appropriate.
Hopefully Saudaji would look into the normally dead eyes of the man she had bared herself to - the man who had opened up to her in a way he had never done before - and realize what it was he meant to say.
The climax he had just experienced was better than he thought possible. It made him want to scream, joyously, but the only sound that came out was a dreamy sigh. But Saudaji's smile, the flush of her cheeks, and how she opened to him in more than one way - those were precious, too. All these things combined into something so good, something he never knew he wanted nor needed until she showed him way.
Raeth's body was jolted by the long, hot streaks of cum that burst out of him. Her insides were painted in white. Much of his mind was lost to the bliss, yet there was just enough of him there to notice that her pussy clamped down on him differently, somehow. It felt possessive. It was so tight it became painful in all the right ways. It was like Saudaji was using her body to tell him she would never let him go.
It may have been his bliss-addled imagination. But he didn't care if he was wrong. His heart leapt at the thought of her being as obsessed with him as he was with her, so he took it. He took it all in at the same time that he emptied so much of himself into her.
The Twi'lek huntress got what she wanted - she milked him of every last drop. Despite the fact that his balls had been emptied, his body still shuddered as though he was still cumming. What they just shared was felt so powerful that even the aftershocks each felt like little orgasms; and he received an aftershock from even the tiniest movements.
The whole thing was so good, it made him black out for a moment. Saudaji had her face nuzzled against his neck, so she didn't see the goofy and utterly satisfied smile on his face. She did, however, notice him fall backwards onto the bed. How could she not? With his arms wound about her, he dragged her down with him.
He didn't realize he had blacked out. One moment he was seated on the bed, happily squeezed between her thighs and dizzy in the heat that enveloped him - her heat. The next moment, he was on his back, and Saudaji was sprawled atop him. The smell of her sweat made him alert. The feel of her melted against him brought a smile to his face. He luxuriated in her. He even luxuriated in the aches that flared at key parts around his body.
Although flaccid and thoroughly depleted, he didn't even think of removing himself from her depths. He lay there, resting, with one hand planted, possessively, on the back of one of her thighs. The other hand caressed her spine, lightly, languidly. On the upward stroke, his fingertip was on her flesh. On the downward stroke, it was his knuckles.
Saudaji had her face buried against the side of his neck. She was welcome to cuddle with him like this whenever she wanted. At that moment, she whispered something to him. Because her mouth was right up against his flesh, some of the words were muffled. He heard enough, though, to recognize she was speaking Mando'a. Abruptly, he was reminded of something that happened two nights ago:
*****
Those talented fingers of his were used to working with metal and electronics. But woodworking? Not so much.
Raeth knew that the Mandalorian carvings he was working on wouldn't come close to matching the quality of the originals, which decorated the doorways inside of the Splendid Place. It was true that he was exceptionally good with his hands. But talent alone couldn't get him on the same level as the Mandalorian craftsmen who worked with wood, bone, and stone their entire lives. Not overnight.
But as he evaluated the carvings atop his workbench - a handful of pieces he had completed over the past couple of sleepless nights - he thought to himself that they weren't bad at all, especially for a non-Mandalorian. Besides, he expected Saudaji would appreciate the thought and the effort more than the quality. As long as the carvings correctly represented her adopted family lineage, she would be pleased.
He hoped she would be pleased.
Raeth worked mostly from memory. During the tour of her ship, Saudaji made it clear how important the carvings were to her. The way she touched them reminded him of how museum curators handled holy artifacts during the the assembly of a new exhibit. Thus, when she showed them to him, he studied them, closely, and took mental images of each and every one. He based his current work off of those mental pictures.
Technology helped, too. His datapad was propped up next to the carvings; he used it to read up on the basics of Mandalorian woodcraft and the significance of their symbolism. During his research, he happened upon instructional videos that taught beginner's Mando'a.
"Hmph. Why not?" Raeth thought outloud. He played the language videos, and practiced along with the recorded, Human instructor. She would say a common word or phrase in Mando'a, translate it into Basic, repeat it in Mando'a, and then she would give the listener a chance to repeat. Raeth listened and repeated what he heard while he carefully shaped the piece of wood in his hand into something that represented Saudaji's great-grandmother.
"Aay'han," the woman on the video said. "A moment of bittersweet joy. Aay'han."
"Aay'han," Raeth repeated, his eyes transfixed on the piece of wood and the knife that cut into it.
"Ade. Children; sons; daughters. Ade."
"Ade."
"Beroya. Bounty hunter. Beroya."
"Beroya." Many minutes had passed, and Raeth was really focused on the carving. He was repeating the words mechanically. Nevertheless, the lessons were remembered.
"Cyare. Beloved; precious one. Cyare."
"Cyare." Raeth did not realize this, but 'cyare' was a term that most Mandalorians used when referring to offspring. The video did not explain that it wasn't generally said between lovers.
" Kar'taylir darasuum. Love. Kar'taylir darasuum."
" Kar'taylir darasuum. Heh," Raeth chuckled to himself. "That's a lot of syllables for 'love.'"
The rest of the night was spent carving and listening to a long-dead Human woman introducing him to Mando'a.
*****
"Kar'taylir darasuum," Raeth thought he heard Saudaji say those words, among other things, just then. He wasn't entirely sure, because he was still drunk from her loving, plus she whispered it against his neck.
A thousand thoughts raced through his head in a matter of seconds. Was she in love with him? What did 'love' even mean, anyway? Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? How did they go from almost killing each other a few weeks ago to this? How would this compllicate their mission? What was this?
He lay still and silent for several seconds, feeling her, thinking. Was this love? He didn't know. Love was not something he knew, at all.
His train of thought rushed to things that he did know. There was always comfort in knowledge. He knew that he couldn't stop thinking about her. He knew that - as obsessive as was - he had never obsessed over anyone or anything like he did with her.
He knew how exhilirated he felt whenever Saudaji expressed her pleasure in him. He knew how light-headed he felt whenever she smiled. He knew that, lately, whenever his mind raced uncomfortably, the things he would think about to calm his thoughts were how she looked when she slept, how her skin smelled, or her voice when she sang as Dian'La.
He knew how awful he felt for the past week. Being separated from her made him feel physically ill at times, which was one of the main reasons why he spent his days remodeling her room and bathroom, and his nights carving her family symbols. Those projects helped him through a real shit week.
What he knew was that when he was with her, he felt thrilled and confused at the same time. Those were two emotions he rarely ever felt. Yet they were emotions she could make him feel just by being with him.
If all those things weren't love, what else could they be?
Conveniently, the subject of his thoughts stirred at the same time he made his decision. She drizzled kisses all over his face, which made him smile. The smile that she saw was peaceful, despite the fact that his heart and his thoughts were both racing.
Saudaji's face was directly above his. He reached up to cup the sides of her head. Eyes on hers, he whispered this confession to her in her family's language:
"Gar ner cyare, Saudaji."
You are my beloved.
Now, because the instructional video he found on the holonet was a poor substitude to a formal linguistic education, the phrase wasn't quite appropriate.
Hopefully Saudaji would look into the normally dead eyes of the man she had bared herself to - the man who had opened up to her in a way he had never done before - and realize what it was he meant to say.
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