by R. Lee Smith
“It’s more true.” He closed the magazine and put it aside. “Lie down with me, Olivia, and I will tell you about the Great Spirit. I am no sigruum, but I think I can tell the story right.”
Amused, she went with him to the pit, undressed, and crawled underneath a sleeping bag while he stirred up the fire. When he was lying comfortably beside her, he tucked an arm around her, thought hard, and said: “In the beginning, there was darkness.”
Olivia started a little.
Vorgullum didn’t notice, all his concentration turned inward. “There was only empty sky that stretched out forever in all directions, and all was dark and cold and still. Into that night was poured many years of time, forever and forever, until finally, the flow of endless years became seed and the night became a womb, and a soul was conceived.
“That first soul became aware of the darkness and the cold and the stillness of night and the passage of time. It became aware of itself. It gained a wisdom and it created thoughts, but at first, the little thoughts all slipped away and tumbled through the night to places the soul could not reach. Again and again it tried to recapture its lost thoughts, but it was unable to find them in the night, so the soul turned all of its thoughts into light, so that even if it could never think of them again, at least it could keep an eye on them.”
Olivia laughed, delighted. “And those thoughts are the stars!”
“Yes. The soul realized that by creating lights to shine against the darkness, it now had the power to separate all things into two conflicting and distinct forms. Eagerly, the soul set its will against the emptiness and stillness of the night and created substance and form to divide it.”
“Earth,” Olivia guessed.
“All worlds,” he corrected, but gently. “And the soul quickly turned this power inward, and became the first living creature. It grew a body that breathed and ate, and could run and fly and swim. It became the Great Spirit.
“For many seasons, the Great Spirit created. He made the mud and grew things in it. He made the water, and poured it into rivers. He made the stone and shaped it into mountains. He threw colors all around, to separate his creations from the night, and he made things of every shade, in the sky, on the land, and in the water.
“But when forever and forever had passed by, the Great Spirit ran out of things to do. He looked around and saw that by creating substance, he had only interrupted the emptiness, he had not defeated it. His creations were devoid of the life and consciousness that he possessed. Depressed, he crawled down into the clay and slept.
“But he had forgotten the thoughts of his youth, the thoughts that had fled from him into the night to be stars. These were thoughts he had given up back before he had power over them. These thoughts had become their own souls, and one of them looked down at him and had pity. The star-thought threw itself out of the sky and fell to the ground, where it transformed into a beautiful woman, all made of stars. The Great Spirit woke up and saw the woman, and discovered that he was a man, and they coupled for years and years.” Vorgullum trailed off with what sounded like a wistful sigh.
“This was Urga?” Olivia asked.
“Urga, the Great Mother,” he agreed, returning to the story. “And when she had filled herself with pleasures, she flew back up into the sky, but because she had been a thing of flesh, she could never be a star again. She flew through the sky as the moon, but when her hour came, Urga knew the child would be mortal and so she fell back to the earth again and birthed. The child was made in the shape of the Great Spirit and of Urga, and had his claws for climbing and shaping, and her wings for flying through the sky. The Great Spirit was so happy with his son that his heart exploded, and all the animals and creatures of the world came out from the heart and ran away, but Urga took no joy in her baby and wished to leave it and return to the sky. The Great Spirit commanded her to stay and give milk, but Urga’s ill humor grew with every day that she was forced to remain on the ground. When the child was weaned, she flew away, leaving her son to fate and the elements. The Great Spirit gave the child, and the others that inevitably followed, a place of their own and provided game to hunt and growing things to eat and they became the first gullan.
“For a time, all were happy, but then the Great Spirit noticed that all his children were sons and they were growing old. He thought they should have mates, for there was nothing he liked so much as coupling with Urga and he wished for his sons to know that pleasure as well.”
“What a thoughtful father,” Olivia remarked, smiling.
He seemed about to make some light-hearted chastisement, but then looked pensive. “It is a strange thing to want for a son, isn’t it? I remember mine urging me once to take a mate, but I don’t believe he ever told me what to do with her. And between us, in all honesty, he should have.”
“I don’t mean to distract you. Please, go on.”
He didn’t right away, but he managed eventually to shrug his thoughts away and find the threads of his story. “When next the Great Spirit met with Urga, he ordered that his next child be born female, to be a mate for his sons. Urga argued—”
“Good for her! Their own sister!”
“—saying that it was the Great Spirit who put the spark in her belly and she could not make or unmake at her own will. But wishing to please her mate, she flew up to the sky as high as her wings could take her and called out to the other stars whose company she had once shared, begging them to carry her back to her place among them. So piteously did she call and weep that one by one, the stars fell close to her, whereupon she seized them and cut their wings and molded them into female form and dropped them among the sons of the Great Spirit. Then they too discovered they were male—” He broke off and frowned at her, making her realize that she was staring at him, open-mouthed and appalled. “This is how the story goes,” he said.
She shut her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know. Human stories are no better, I know that. Go on.”
“There were many young born, both male and female. This pleased the Great Spirit, for he saw that his children would have continuation and a true place in the world he had made for them. And it pleased Urga…” He paused, searching her face, but she thought she managed to keep her growing dislike for that particular character from being too obvious. “…because she found that she was able to bear her own young through these female gullan to be mothered by them, freeing her to return to the sky.
“Even now, when we go outside, we can see Urga floating above us, with her belly growing fat with the Great Spirit’s son. When the thunder rolls and the mountains quake, we know that we feel the Great Spirit’s frustration and impatience as he waits for his mate to return to him and brood season to come upon her. And sometimes, the moon is gone, and we know Urga has come back to couple with him, and bear another son through a mortal gullan.
“Since then, all women have bred according to the days of the moon, each to her own season, but in the same span of time. And like the Great Spirit, all men are impatient,” he added, reaching over to slide his hand over her belly. “Pining for their mates, and yearning—” He leaned over to nip gently at her shoulder. “—for their season—” He ran the very tips of his blunt, hard claws over her hips, and then lifted himself over her, smoky-eyed and grinning. “—to come upon them,” he finished.
The story had put Olivia in a very good mood, making her feel at once welcome and trusted. She caught his hand and moved it to her sex, rubbing with him, with a faint wistful thought that he might learn something. He thrummed and stroked her, his eyes drifting out to focus indistinctly at a point above her head. She could feel his cock stiffening against her thigh, feel his whole body tensing as he coaxed the flow of her musky oils over his hand.
Unexpectedly, startling him and her both, Olivia reached up and caught him by the base of one horn, pulling him down to look at her. “I am here,” she said firmly. “I am right here. Look at me.”
His hand stopped moving immediately. He stared at her, alarmed and arouse
d and bewildered all at once.
He didn’t understand and she supposed she’d ought to just let it go, but the thought of another arduous bout of emotionless lovemaking suddenly exhausted her. Olivia sat up, then stood up, and pointed over at the nearest bench. His whole body shook once, hard, and the fire of lust in his eyes blazed hot before banking again with caution. “Sit down,” she said.
“Sit,” he echoed. He looked at her a long time, but she continued to stand and point. Slowly, he rose and crossed to the bench and eased himself down to sit. His cock stood rigid, the head gleaming with readiness. She imagined she could see it swell as she approached him.
“Hold me,” she began, and his hands came around her hips at once and pulled her down to straddle him. She caught him by the fur of his shoulders and yanked for balance, harder than she intended, but he only growled and swung her around, setting her with a bruising thump on the bench so that he could push her down. “Wait!” she cried, shoving at him. “Wait, no, stop!”
He did, at once, leaning back with a puzzled look. “What is it?”
And he really didn’t know, that was the misery of it. She made her hands relax, gave him a little pat on the shoulder, and smiled at him. “I want you to be gentle, okay? I want you to hold me and…and be with me.”
His brows rose, then wrinkled. Plainly, he thought that was what he had been doing. But he eased his grip on her, let her wriggle back until she could kneel beside him on the bench, and when she was settled, he immediately reached for her again. She caught his wrist, moved his hand to her breast, and he uttered a ragged, eager thrumm, squeezed her roughly just once, and then tried to push her down again. Again, she resisted and although he still backed off, he did it with noticeable frustration this time.
“Let me show you,” she said, petting his arm in what she hoped was a placating manner. “All right?”
He sat back on the bench, giving assent with a curt nod and doing his best not to snarl too overtly.
The lesson in foreplay was just going to have wait for another day, but she was determined not to waste this opportunity or his patience. Gingerly, she slipped her legs around his waist and eased herself down until his thick glans nudged hard at her sex. She reached down to take his shaft, hot and throbbing in her hand, sliding him along the lips of her labia. His breath roughened, but he held her tight and did not move, although she could see his nostrils flaring as her pussy began to throb and slick the head of his teasing cock.
“Just take a little time, okay?” she murmured, easing herself down around him. Holding his gaze with hers, still touching the broad curve of his jaw, she began to roll her hips, rocking him gently, reaching around behind them to massage at his heavy balls. He tried to lower his head, hissing, and she pushed at his chin determinedly and said, “No. Look at me.”
When he did, she almost wished he wouldn’t, so intense was the lust and heat of his eyes. “I need…to move you,” he said hoarsely. His hands on her were shaking, hard and solid as stone.
“Then move me. But hold me, look at me. Stay with me.”
Slowly, with obvious restraint, he pushed and pulled at her, sliding her effortlessly up and down along his shaft as she continued to roll and grind and grip him. His eyes never left hers.
The throbbing ache in her sex intensified, began to pound in ragged harmony with the sound of his hot breath. Olivia felt her own eyes rolling back as heat flamed out from her belly into real pleasure. Her fingers clenched in his fur, her hips quickened until she was pumping down at him with abandon, clawing with single-minded purpose towards a true and honest climax. Breathy cries of pleasure panted out of her, growing in pitch and power until she was nearly screaming. She could feel him driving deeper and harder, his whole body shuddering as he neared his release. Then came an awful moment when Olivia felt nothing at all for a bare instant and had time only to think that he was done and she was out of luck again, and then her entire inner core exploded with the most intense sensation of passion and fire she had ever experienced.
She flung her whole body backwards, arching until her hair slapped at the stone floor, never thinking that she would fall. He held her pinned easily in space as she convulsed in the ruthless grip of pleasure; she was only beginning to come back to her senses when she felt his seed shoot deep against her womb and she screamed again as it slapped her into another rage of orgasm.
When it finally ebbed, she opened her eyes, gazing at the novelty of the upside-down pit room and marveling at the pleasant little shivers that still crawled through her. Slowly, with tremendous strain, she put her hands on his arms and pulled herself upright.
“All right?” he asked. He seemed to be genuinely concerned.
She meant to say something encouraging and yawned instead.
The side of his mouth twitched in a smile. Without words, he lifted her, carried her to the pit and lay her down. She tried again to think of something to say to please him, but when his wing came over her and his soft pelt pressed against her, she slept, her body aching but glowing with pleasure.
7
His muffled groans woke her from an agreeable dream in which she had just been crowned Queen and was about to make her first proclamation concerning clambakes while wearing a sequined peephole bra and a pink poodle skirt. She opened her eyes to see him stretching out his wings to their full span, rocking on his heels as he worked first one, then the other, and finally arched his entire powerful frame with sinew-cracking force.
He saw her watching and snapped back into a normal posture. He grinned. “My Olivia,” he said warmly.
“That’s ‘Your Majesty,’ peasant,” she mumbled good-naturedly, and seeing his bewildered face, added in his tongue, “I was dreaming.”
“Yes?”
“I was tovorak,” she said. “I was the tallest in the whole world.”
It took her a few seconds to realize he was staring at her, motionless. She had to laugh at him. “It was just a dream! It didn’t mean anything.”
“All dreams mean something,” he said seriously, but went to fetch a clean loincloth from the box on his side of the pit.
Olivia yawned and rolled onto her back to watch him dress. “Is it really morning already? It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Morning, and well into the hours of morning,” he said reluctantly. “I am usually among my tribe by now. Someone is surely waiting for me.”
Still in a sleepy, teasing mood, Olivia dropped her eyelids and arched her back suggestively. “Let them wait,” she purred. “Come back to me.”
He jerked to a stop while putting on his loincloth, and she saw an agony of indecision on his face. Finally, he shook his head, but slowly, as though doing so cost him physical distress. “I wish I could,” he said. “But I’ll be back for mid-meal.”
“Good,” she murmured. “Because I feel like working up an appetite.”
He straightened, looking completely dumbfounded, then suspicious. “You aren’t in season,” he said. “What is wrong with you?”
“Did it feel wrong last night?”
He had to think about it.
“No,” he said at last, but he was frowning.
“I’m your mate, remember? Shouldn’t I want to be with my mate and hold him in the pit?” She rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled towards him, pretending she had a tail to twitch with cat-like intensity behind her. Vorgullum backed away. “Shouldn’t I want to push him down and wrap my legs around him and feel him inside me?”
He did not reply.
Olivia waited, trying to smolder, and finally sat up and managed another laugh. “I guess I must not be doing this right.”
“What,” he asked, very cautiously, “are you attempting to do?”
“Work my wicked way with you.” Remembering her dream, she straightened her shoulders and pointed imperiously at the pit. “Your queen commands you!”
His foot twitched, but away from her, not closer.
“Oh fine. You can go.” Olivia fell back with
a yawn and wrapped herself in one of his furs. “You’re sending me a lot of mixed signals, you know.”
He tore himself away with a visible effort and the promise to be back early. When he was gone, Olivia crawled out of the pit and went to the canal in the far passageway. She gave herself a lengthy washing, relishing the sensation of the biting cold water as it numbed her stiff muscles and flushed skin.
She dressed, and for want of something to do, began to sort through the bedding. The furs and sleeping bags were fine, but that canvas tent had to go. Chafe city. She found a number of small scraps of fabric and fur and removed them as well, dumping the entire pile of undesirable material to one side of the pit. Good. Now she felt productive.
Her stomach growled and she stood up, stretching, and went to get her climbing spikes. Maybe she could find someone in the commons who would feed her.
As her fingers closed around the iron claws, Olivia heard a familiar voice, very welcome on this morning. “Olivia! You evil little frog! Will you make old Murgull squeeze her fat self up that little passage?”
“You don’t have any trouble when you come to slap my head.”
“Oh ho, and should I be slapping it today? Come down, I say!”
“Coming!” Olivia called, and soon she was spiking her way down the chimney to stand next to the old gulla, who gazed at her with reluctant admiration.
“Cunning things, those,” she said, nodding at the spikes. “Iron claws for little frog hands. Your mate gave them to you?”
“Yes,” Olivia said. “Perhaps if you came to his pit, he will make you a new set of teeth.”
Murgull first gaped, then bellowed out laughter. She clutched at the wall, wheezing and chortling, then slapped Olivia’s arm playfully. “Not too old and ugly, me,” she giggled. “Old Murgull has but one tooth left, but she had a clever tongue in her youth, oh yes! Come with Murgull.” She turned and hobbled off down the tunnel, Olivia following comfortably at her side.