Reluctantly Rogue Pt. 01-Ch. 001

(Note: This is a long, ongoing story. It is a story with sex. It's a sexy story. It is in many ways a story about sex. But, it is not strictly a sex story. Many chapters may even be SFW.)

RELUCTANTLY ROGUE:

The Indecent Adventures of Atyr Bracken

PART ONE - In Exchange for a Hound

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CHAPTER ONE

Blood in the Water

Atyr was having feelings. Weird feelings. They were only fleeting; there for a moment, then gone, but they were weird. They were feelings like the sense of almost remembering, or perhaps of smelling delicious food when hungry, or maybe more like the spinning fuzziness of the edge of sleep. More than anything though, they were like realizing that the world all around was more exciting, more stimulating, more arousing than he'd ever before been aware.

But it was only for a moment. Only for a flicker of a moment, and then the feeling would be gone. This was the third time he had felt the feelings, and it was starting to cause problems.

The first time he had felt it had been mid morning. He'd been clearing brush in preparation for felling a tall, straight oak, when for a brief instant, he'd felt an exhilaration at being shirtless under the sky, breeze caressing his bare skin. His wiry frame had shuddered slightly, and then the weirdness passed.

The second time it had come it had been weaker, barely noticeable. He had been seated on the trunk of the felled oak, eating a quick midday meal of fish and sour blackthorn berries, when the food in his mouth had taken on such a sensual quality that a moan of pleasure had escaped his lips. He had shaken his head and it had dissipated, perhaps no more than an effect of his not-yet-sated hunger.

The third time was the strongest, and it caught him standing on the trunk, hatchet in hand, hewing the wood into shape to serve as the ridge beam for his new cabin. He could almost have sworn he heard a tiny, bell-like whisper of a voice. For a moment, he was struck by exactly how everything he was doing felt, the sensation of grasping the haft of the axe, of the smooth, sensual flow of his body in motion -- it was all overwhelmingly arousing. Distracted, the blow of his hatchet came in side-on, and the bit caught and snapped in the dense wood, a chip of the freshly sharpened blade flying off erratically and catching him high on his inner thigh.

He looked down at the dark, reddish patch beginning to spread through the course weave of his pants and swore. He looked at the large divot in the head of the hatchet and swore. He looked at the timber he was standing on, not yet half hewn into shape, and he swore. He looked back at his leg, feeling the hot drops of blood already trickling down inside his pants, headed for his bare toes, and swore again. He guessed there was going to be a lot of swearing today.

Washing his leg and stopping the bleeding came first. The hatchet blade had been clean, but Atyr had seen what could happen to even small, neat wounds that were left untended. Out in the Brookwood, nearly two days walk from town, he didn't need to deal with a cut going sour on him.

He looked across the clearing to the wide, slowly spinning pool, nearly waist deep. It was, he had been assuming, fed from an underground spring. Presumably it outflowed back down somewhere through cracks in the rock. The strange fish he had found there were fat, slow moving, and greedy for his bait; on most days it was a perfect spot to catch a quick meal. But today, it was a perfect spot for cleaning what he hoped would prove to be a minor leg wound.

He stripped out of the worn and bloodied work pants, chucked them onto the stump next to his discarded vest and shoes, and slid on his bare feet down the small, steep bank, plunging in immediately over his knees into the sun-warmed water. He carefully splashed at the wound, washing away the blood, and was relieved to see it was small, and shallow. Atyr's breath caught for a moment and slowly swore again, noting that the cut was barely a thumbs-breadth below the tip of his dangling cock. Thank the fates for luck in unlucky times! He tried not to dwell on what that slice would have looked like half a hand higher, breathed out long and slow, and waded deeper into the water.

It was always strikingly colder in the center of the pool, and Atyr gasped as the ripples of the eddy reached his wounded thigh, and, at the same moment, other sensitive areas. He began to rub gently at the cut, cleaning it as much as he could, the water turning faintly pink around him.

He startled slightly as he felt a fish brush against his ankle, kicking to shoo it away as he cleaned the wound. A moment later it wriggled between his knees and he jumped back in surprise. No wonder these things were so easy to catch; they were fearless! Immediately after that the fish grabbed his thigh and Atyr swore yet again, loudly, and in a voice much higher than he would have preferred. "Fates, what is that!"

Atyr grabbed wildly at the fish and to his surprise, actually caught it. He yanked it out of the water, and froze. Instead of a fish, he held a long, slender, hand, pale green like the shells of the little emerald snails on the banks. It was attached to a long, smooth green arm, which proved to be attached to the rest of a slim green... woman? She surfaced in front of him, and gave him a look somehow both pleading and arousing. Her hand slithered out of his grasp, and she bobbed there directly in front of him, with the water right at the level of her opalescent lips.

Since the water level was right at her lips, and since the water level was also right at Atyr's... well the water came just below his waist, and since she was floating directly in front of him, he couldn't help but notice his cock was bobbing around in the water less than a hands breadth from her lips. Her pearly, glistening, slightly parted lips.

Something in the back of the back of his mind was trying to say something muddled about how it was rather odd that there was a green woman just hanging out under the surface of his little pool, but that something was smothered and extinguished by something else, something hot that washed through Atyr, from his feet up to his head, and back down to his hips, and pooled there inside his pelvis like a hot, liquid pressure. His head began to swim, as all thought left him, replaced with an irresistible desire for this strange, green woman. He watched his cock begin to stiffen in the cool water, growing, growing, and as it grew and hardened, it reached closer and closer to the green woman's parted lips.

She ran a pointed tongue along those lips, a moment before the head of Atyr's cock reached her and pressed against them ever so slightly. She opened her mouth, and he half noted her pearly, white teeth, pointed, in two rows.

"Do you want me?" Her voice, when she spoke, was soft, breathy, a world of pleasure promised in the simple word "want".

He nodded slowly. Yes. She was the only thing he wanted, the only thing he could want right now.

She smiled up at him, her pale green eyes locked to his. The tongue snaked back out, wrapping around his shaft, impossibly long. It gripped him with its slick length and began to writhe. Atyr felt that pressure in his core building impossibly fast, his balls were tightening up against him, pulsing, ready to drain themselves into her mouth.

The woman moved forward slowly in the water. He felt her hands trailing up his thighs to grip his ass, guiding his hips forward. Her mouth was impossibly hot as he entered it; the heat alone nearly caused him to tip over the edge of release. Already, his head was swimming. He couldn't think, he couldn't see, he couldn't breathe, his thoughts were more and more clouded. He couldn't breathe. All he could register was soft, slippery warmth as she began to suck his cock slowly in, taking him deep. He felt the resistance of the back of her throat. She swallowed, and took him all the way, pushing herself forward until her nose pressed into the patch of short hair at his base. She pulled slowly away then, lips sealed around his shaft. As his cock slid free of her tight throat, he felt the orgasm nearly sucked from him. She opened her mouth wide, grinned, and plunged back down, eagerly swallowing him once, twice, again. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe...

He couldn't breathe.

Atyr's head cleared slightly, and all about him and above him and below him was water, water and the woman, still grasping him with her strong, thin hands, and with his pulsing cock still buried in her face. The world was darkening and brightening at the same time. He gasped as she sucked on him, and a cloud of bubbles shot out of him. Water filled his lungs with a dull fire, and he tried to stand, but there was no bottom. Something in him knew he had to leave, to get back to the surface, but all he wanted was to remain deep in this strange woman, deep in the water. He moaned with pleasure and more water filled him, and everything was fading until all he could feel was the burning pain in his chest, and the burning cum about to flow out of his cock and down her throat.

Then that weird feeling was back, stronger than he'd yet felt it, and angry now, pulsing through his mind and body like a waking dream, and suddenly she was thrashing away from him, and he felt the floor of the pool once more beneath him, and he lunged for the surface and the pool was shallow again, and there was the green woman flailing about in the water, grabbing and swatting at something flying erratically around her face, and he was coughing up water, and he was vomiting, and then something was flying at his face, and a tiny, clear voice was urging him to the bank, and he staggered out of the pool and collapsed, and everything was dark.