With closed eyes, he could rightfully smell the beauty of the foreign land he found himself within. It was old and full of magic. The rotting trees that had cracked underneath his boots were birthing taller and stronger trees out of their crumbling bodies. The roots of the old and new held together moist dirt so fertile it could grow wheat on a patch of ice in the middle of winter. The movement of fresh mountain water created a symphony of liquid chimes as it travelled all the way to the sea.
The sea, a second home to his people, was struggling to keep its briny scent upon him in the face of such calm purity. He had tasted the creek many times as he travelled to these highlands, and each time he could feel unwelcomed salt wash away from his body.
And the morning sun. On the waters, it showered him with two golden eyes upon the horizon. At home, it breathed color back into the green plains that fed the cattle. But here, on this distant and wild island, it could only filter piece by piece through the leaves onto the ground. It was as if below the treetops were a secret, and the forest was trying its best to keep all hidden. To keep the island innocent.
Evyn opened his eyes and continued his search. Evyn was a thick bodied man with long dark hair and soft beard. If he was one to eat like a pig, he would have been full with a ruddy girth. Yet, he ate lean, and his lightly tanned skin pulled tightly over his large muscles. He showed a few deep scars in his chest and arms, but his face was flawless with jutting cheekbones and a powerful chin. His only gentle feature were his green eyes, which his people told him was a sign that he had been gifted by the good spirits.
It was summertime, and he was lightly dressed in thick leathers: sturdy boots, large belt, tattered gauntlets, and a strap over his shoulder that held his mighty battle axe. His axe was tarnished from overuse, but its sharpened edges gleamed menacingly. Carved in its sides were beautiful spirals and knots representing the ferocity of a beautiful lion. It had been made specifically for him after he killed ten men with nothing but his bare hands. That was a glorious day for Evyn.
Other than those items, his skin was bare to the world. He sported the normal patches of manly hair upon his chest, legs, and arms, but his hair was thin and laid closely to his skin. He was of a pale people, but his many months at sea had once again turned his color to a darker tint. The only pale sides of him left were in his boots and beneath his pleated kilt, which proudly showed his clan’s faded colors of forest green with thin lines of red. Had a stranger met him randomly, they would think him a lone wanderer.
Evyn was not alone, or at least did not arrive on the island alone. His people, the Dukant Clan, had gone to battle with Norse invaders of his homeland. The men in iron helmets and dragon headed boats had come with fire in their eyes and a thirst for blood. The Vikings had thought the Dukants like any other people and prepared for a slaughter. They should have prepared for their own funerals. Every spring some invader sets foot upon the island of Airtholl with greed in their hearts, but the Dukants were fierce warriors and gave no mercy. In the end, every last one of the Vikings were slain, gutted, and burned upon the ships they came in on.
And as with every spring battle, every summer the Dukants would send their greatest warriors to the ancient burial grounds of their gods to give thanks for such good fortune. Eight in total, and this most distant island of Thule housed the oldest and last. Dagda, the father of all the Celts, his burial grounds were the hardest to find. Some believed that he switched it from place to place every year, making sure only those worthy would find it. So when Evyn’s ship landed upon the sandy shore, his clansmen drew lots and each went their separate ways in search of their greatest god.
Evyn drew the lot of the eastern Great Antler Forest. It was an unfortunate draw, as the forest was inhabited with ancient beasts and spirits. He took his lot with pride and set off without even grabbing a scrap of food. He had explored every other part of Thule, and after this, he would know the island completely. In all those other times he explored Thule, he had never found Dagda. He was beginning to think that his great ancestor never truly took sleep in the dirt.
He had traversed the forest for a day and a night. It was not a hard travel, and the only signs of life he found were the birds above and a stag too wise to move close to him. Evyn was not hungry yet. He would allow the animals their peace for a little while longer before the hunt began. For now, his divine quest was all that mattered.
After walking upon a jutting rock, he viewed far and saw nothing other than more trees. He exhaled his frustration and jumped down. If he did not find the gravesite of great Dagda by tomorrow, he would abandon the search and assume one of the others found the site first. It always happened this way. He would travel longer and farther than all his comrades, and somehow one of them would find it. They’d bring a rock inscribed with Dagda’s symbol, and then they’d all sail for Airtholl.
What had they done differently? He would demand an answer, but none of them could say. If he didn’t trust them with his life, he would call them liars and battle them to the death. It angered him so much. He mindlessly picked up a rock and hurled it at a tree, marking its bark deeply. When he calmed down, he felt foolish and thirsty.
He bent down towards the creek that he had been following, and guzzled the pure water from between his hands. For an island too far North to support a village, it did indeed have the best waters. It soothed him to think that it purified him somehow. Cleansed his war-troubled mind. Blood had been spilt by him hundreds of times, yet there were always more to kill. The gold meant nothing to him. It was just a pretty type of stone. The mead meant nothing to him. It took away the pleasure it gave the night after he drank it. The women…those he cared a little about.
Mortholl, the village South of his clan, had requested their aid in defense against the Viking invaders. Of course the Dukant Clan came, and of course they beat back the Vikings. The village was so thankful, they allowed their saviors to sleep with their women. Evyn was given a pretty girl with brown, curly hair and dark eyes. She was very newly a woman, but her body was curvy and willing to bear children. He still dreamt about their time together; the feel of her pouty lips, the shape of her dark nipples, the taste of her…
He smelled something. A musk. Not of a deer or a wolf. Something stronger. Deeper. But still an animal. He had stopped his drinking for only a moment, and then he kept on as if he had noticed nothing. The wind blew from the East, and he was sure that’s where the creature was. It hadn’t stalked him, or else he would have smelled the thing before now. No, it just found him. Or maybe it was waiting.
He let it get closer and closer, never letting hint that he was aware of it. Then, when it’s footsteps were barely heard, he spun around with axe in hand and roared the challenge of combat to his sneaky foe. His eyes went wide, for what he saw was a cave lion. It was three times bigger than any wolf he had ever seen. It was more like a bear in size, but it’s face and tail gave it away as a feline. It roared as he roared, and Evyn could feel it’s hot breath blow against him.
There was very little time to react. The lion was upon the same jutting rock he had jumped down from, and it leaped at him. He wisely ducked to the side, but the lion managed to scratch his forearm deeply. He could feel his blood flowing, but he gave it no look. No, instead he returned the wound and swung his axe at the beast. He sliced into its shoulder, and it roared at the pain. Now they were both bleeding, and they were both poised for another attack.
Evyn was as still as a statue, and the lion waited for him to move. He looked deeply into its eyes, and noticed how green they were. “Green eyes?” No creature in this world had green eyes. It was a mystical beast. A spirit. He had raised arms against a blessed being. “I am sorry to harm you, spirit, but if you lunge at me again, I will strike you dead.”
He didn’t know if he even could kill the beast. However, if it was intent on making him a meal, he would swing his axe until his last breath. Spirit or no, he would never accept death. It was a long wait, and he took the time to admire the creature: a golden brown pelt with a subtle striped pattern, claws longer than his fingers, long teeth capable of crushing logs, and its long and wide tail. It was truly a remarkable animal.
Then, it stopped growling. It took a few steps back and sat down. In response, he straightened his back and let down his axe. If it did not wish to fight, then neither did he. Only a fool would attack a spirit if given the chance for peace. They two stood there, bleeding from their arms, and he had no idea what to do next. “I search for Dagda.”
Then, the lion glowed with a ethereal magic. It shined so brightly that Evyn had to cover his eyes. When the light passed, he lowered his hand and saw a mystery even more perplexing than the cave lion: a beautiful woman. Her great beauty was alien to his eyes: long flowing red hair, moon pale skin with kind freckles tracing her shoulders and cheeks, thin cheekbones, a strong jaw, beautiful and nurturing breasts, and a nice tuft of red hair above her tight pussy.
And those eyes, those perfectly green eyes, he could get lost in those eyes forever. He dropped his axe on the ground, “You are more beautiful than any other woman I know.” She smiled knowingly, and then quickly looked down and back up at his gaze. He looked down too, and his pleaded kilt with his clan’s colors had started to rise. He felt ashamed that the first spirit he had ever seen made him react so strongly. Never before had his cock felt so strong, and he was thankful that his kilt had been made so long.
However, he didn’t try to hide it. She had already seen him like that. Hiding it would be foolish. He was a man, and there was no hiding that fact. The spirit understood his bravado, and she looked pleased. He was exactly what she had been looking for; a man unafraid to be a man.
She slowly walked towards him, placing one delicate foot after another. He didn’t shirk away. No, he stood there erect and waiting for her action. When she was very near him, he closed his eyes: an instinctual reaction to smelling her aroma. Before it was just that of a cave lion. Now, he smelled in her every sweet scent he had been fortunate enough to experience. It was as if her hair was made of flowers, and her body a fertile field.
Without warning, she grabbed his cock through his kilt. Surprised, he opened his eyes and looked down. He didn’t jump back. No, he wanted this. He very much needed this. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman, and he needed the release. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t move away from her. His instincts were strong, and he would obey them.
Her hand slowly moved back and forth, rubbing his wool against his ready member. Through his kilt he felt her tight grip move along his shaft, never bumping against the tip. He wanted to touch her. Needed to touch her. He lifted his hand and went to touch her shoulder. She squeezed down on his member, and gave his hand a stern look. After he moved his hand away from her, she looked back at him with a smile. She shook her head ‘No’, then kept rubbing his shaft.
Then she bent down on her knees, letting her hands fall down his kilt until they reached the end. Effortlessly she lifted the kilt high and rested it against his throbbing shaft. When she saw his cock near to her face, she let out a sort of girlish giggle. He was much larger than most, and his form was very beautiful in itself.
Her voice was like music played on a warm summer’s night. It was so soothing that he did not mind how forward she had become. He looked down at those beautiful green eyes and smiled. She licked her lips from top to bottom, grabbed a hold of his cock at the base, and positioned his cockhead right against her lips. Slowly but surely, her red lips slowly moved over his member. The warmth of her lips followed by the even warmer feel of her mouth was overwhelming. Even when he had been with a woman, they would have never done this to him.
He groaned and growled from the pleasure, and she kept slowly moving further down his shaft. In a slow wave, he felt every movement of her lips and tongue on his member. His knees wanted to buckle. His back wanted to rest against something. Yet, there was nothing nearby. He would stand there like a warrior, or else he figured she would abandon him. He would take this gift with pride.
Then her sight moved down as she continued to engulf his cock. When she reached all the way down she could, he let his mouth open and a little air escaped him. The back of her mouth felt so much like a woman’s pussy.
Then she pulled back slowly. He especially enjoyed how she sucked on him until she was off, giving an audible ‘smack’. He looked down at her, “Keep doing it.” The audacity of a mortal man ordering a spirit was great, but to this lion spiritess, it was the perfect answer.
Again she put his member in her mouth, but this time she was swift. As swift as she was putting him inside her mouth, she was just as swift moving off of him. Over and over again she bobbed on his member. Evyn could feel his heart race and his blood pump, but they were just annoyances compared to the unbelievable warmth and wetness on his cock. She continued to look up at him as she moved, and the sight of the pale woman’s breasts shaking as she moved made his balls ache to release.
It was as if she could read his mind, for she moved her other hand and fondled the two hard orbs in his sack. She played with them so tenderly, slightly pulling them down for more leverage.
Had she been a human woman, or had they been fucking in the normal sense, he would have lasted much, much longer. But neither of those things were true, and he could feel his cock swell with the expected release. He didn’t even have time to mentally force himself to stop. He simply came, gushing forth his warm seed into the spirit’s mouth. As he did so, he felt the vibration of her throat saying “Mmmm” at the taste of his cum. She continued to milk his cock back and forth and squeeze his balls, making sure she consumed every last drop he had to give.
His breath was short, and his eyes bloodshot. He looked down at his still thick and wet cock just in time for the spirit to kindly lower his kilt back down. She stood up, wiped some of his cum off her lips and into her mouth, and then she turned to walk away. He didn’t want her to go, but he was so much at a loss for action that he just stood there watching her round ass cheeks move back and forth with her walk.
Eventually she looked back, smiled, and spoke “Helori” while tapping her chest. Helori. A beautiful name. Before he could tell her his name, she turned and ran. Again the light shone, and when it was gone, so was she. It was as if nothing had ever happened to him.
TO BE CONTINUED…
ManofDawnLight written an adult RPG tabletop game called “Succubus: An Adult Roleplaying Game” that received four out of five pitchforks on Succubus.net by Tera. He’s happy to hear any feedback about his work.