Copyright © Emmi Lawrence
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author.
Short Story (Approx. 3300)
The first layer of the gloves was a captured piece of the powerful North Wind. The second layer was made from an ever-burning fire taken from the depths of Mount Lasteps, said to be the path to the deepest hell. The third layer was water from the upward sweeping Heaven Falls. The forth and final layer was earth from the base of the Mother Tree, packed so tight it would never crumble. Around the outside and up each finger ran strips of black leather embedded into the earth. The strips fastened at the wrist and then continued on, fastening once again mid-forearm.
Inside the glove, the water would drip into the fire, turn to steam and rise, smack into the cool earth, turn into liquid again for a time before working its way down to drip once more into the ever-present fire. Stuck between the chill air of the North Wind and the constant dripping from the Heaven Falls, the fire would often shiver to little more than an ember before roaring back to life.
None of that could be seen though. Even when Cerci put the glove to her face to look inside, all she saw was cloudy, dark shadows. When she wore them she could feel air blowing over her hands and the occasional burst of warmth, but that was all.
In front of her, Bradd had already begun his training, lifting his hands in an awkward fashion to the stream in front of them as if he intended on coaxing the whole thing from its bed. She watched for a moment, admiring the line of defined muscle visible where his sleeves stopped partway down his bicep.
She fastened the second glove and stretched her hands out in front of her to examine them. They didn’t seem powerful, no more than regular gloves did, but Witch Ales wouldn’t have spent a fortune in the underground market getting the ingredients to make them had they not held the power to manipulate liquid.
Cerci stepped next to Bradd and watched his next amateurish move before hiding her mouth behind a hand. “I’m not seeing anything but ripples.”
Bradd tossed his hair from his eyes and made a rude gesture. “Then you try.”
She’d studied Witch Ales before, watched the way the potions flowed from one pot to the next, not so much as a drop falling into the fire below. How hard could it truly be?
Left hand firm to her side, Cerci raised her right hand and twisted it sharply at the wrist before gently moving each finger individually. A hole appeared momentarily in the stream, as if the water flowed around a nonexistent rock. Cerci gasped and the hole immediately filled back in.
“Nice,” said Bradd, though his voice held annoyance rather than appreciation.
He lifted his hand and mimicked her movements with much more force. The stretch of the stream in front of them cut nearly in half, water splashing upon the banks to either side before curling back down in tiny waves to flood the split.
“Showoff,” muttered Cerci.
Bradd gave a snort. “It’s not showing off if you’re naturally better.”
She sent a punch his way, but he ducked and danced away laughing. The laugh turned into a splutter as a wave of water splashed him in the face. Bradd coughed, bent over with hands on his knees as Cerci blinked at him then down at her gloved hands.
“How’d you do that one?” asked Bradd. His voice croaked slightly as if water still lingered in his lungs.
Cerci turned her hands over slowly, noting the stream didn’t react at all. Then, with an evil smile, she mimed punching him again, making the motion as sweeping and forceful as it’d been before.
The water reacted, mimicking her large motion with one of its own before it sailed straight for Bradd again. This time he was ready and dodged out of the path of the shooting water, coming forward to catch both of Cerci’s arms.
“Funny,” he said, half his mouth twisting up into a smirk.
Then he yanked her sideways, tipping her so she stumbled against the bank and had to flail her arms to catch herself. The motion swirled the stream and a mini whirlpool formed underneath her. She started to fall but was pulled back by strong arms about her middle.
She twisted in Bradd’s arms and tried to smack him, but the angle was wrong for her to catch his face. But the angle didn’t matter for the stream. Water spilled up her and Bradd, hard enough to make her ear ring, but not so hard to knock them down. Her hair caught on her face and stream water dripped from her nose. She shook her head to clear some of the water as Bradd squeezed her tightly.
“That didn’t work like you’d planned,” he said as he laughed at her once more.
She glared at him and started to think about smacking him upside the head, but the water clinging to her shirt made her think twice about that. Bradd looked over her shoulder and down her soaking clothes, his smile twisting into one a little more lusty.
Following his gaze, she saw what had attracted him. Soaked now, her shirt clung to the contours of her flesh. Her top button had come undone and the fabric had folded down, revealing cleavage she usually attempted to keep covered when they were working.
She nudged his head with her own and started to fix her shirt, but he grabbed her hands, pulling her tighter against his chest.
“Bradd, we’re supposed to be training. Ales will have both our hides if we haven’t made any progress, not after she spent so much on these gloves.”
“I’ve made plenty of progress,” he responded. “Watching you drench yourself was both entertaining and informative.”
His eyes hadn’t left her chest, but now he took the edge of her shirt in his teeth and dragged it closer to her shoulder, revealing more skin.
“Bradd,” she said, adding a warning to her voice.
He hummed in response, lips trailing across her wet skin, warm nose nudging the back of her neck as he relaxed his grip on one of her arms to caress her skin. She shuddering in his grasp.
“Cold?” he murmured.
“Of course. I’m wet and the breeze here—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish that thought either as he bit down hard on her neck. She yelped and struggled to get away, but he pressed her back towards him with a hand flat to her chest. There he twisted into the fabric and yanked down, popping another two buttons and causing a hole to open up in the stream that stretched all the way to the mud at the bottom.
She smacked at his hand. “Bradd, stop. We’re supposed to be—” She was cut off by a wave of water splashing into her face. Bradd ducked behind her, hands never leaving her chest.
“You are one slow learner.”
She spluttered for a moment, taking great care to be slow and steady as she raised her arm to wipe some of the water off her face.
“I hadn’t realized this was going to be such a wet day,” said Bradd. “Had I known, I’d have tried to convince you to wear white. This green is no where near as flattering.” As he spoke he pulled her wet shirt off her side as emphasis before running his fingers upwards along the bareness at her chest, underneath the wet cloth and over her cold nipple. “Except here. This brings back some fond memories.” His voice was husky with desire.
Cerci shuddered as he stroked her upright nipple, and tried to keep her mind on what they were supposed to be doing. He kissed her neck with an open mouth, using his fingers to pull away her wet hair. Warmth spread from the kiss down her spine.
“We’re supposed to be training,” she said, starting to pull away.
He stopped her with one gloved hand massaging her breast, the other pressing downward, skimming over her stomach to curl her skirt between her legs. The warmth from before spread and she felt her vagina pulse under Bradd’s hand. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she sighed as he kissed up along her neck. Gentle kisses, warm and sure.
One of his legs stepped in front of her own, pressing it back. Now his whole body wrapped about hers, keeping her steady in his grasp. His lower hand curled further, bunching her skirt so that it rose up along her thighs, fingers rubbing through the fabric.
His mouth reached hers and the kisses turned from soft and gentle to demanding and fierce. Tongue swept into her mouth, running along her own. He kept her clenched to him, the hand upon her breast never stopping its ministrations upon her bare skin and his shoulder keeping her head lodged under his mouth.
She waited until he’d closed his eyes completely, then jerked both her hands up, palms flat and turned towards Bradd. The stream reacted in a wave that blasted both of them, throwing them off their feet and sending them sprawling into the grass.
Cerci recovered first, rolling to her feet and running back to the stream. The grass was slippery and the ground muddy, squelching under her feet. She glanced back once, laughing when she caught sight of Bradd struggling to stand. He called out to her—a curse by the sound of it. Luckily, he didn’t have any training in that particular area.
At the bank, she began to turn, moving her hands in a similar pattern from before, but she’d only spun halfway when Bradd’s weight smashed into her. Cerci shrieked, grabbing for him though it did no good as he was falling with her. They landed onto the stream, Cerci back first, Bradd atop her…and there they stayed.
Cerci could feel the stream lapping against her skin as it flowed underneath her, but she didn’t sink. Both her hands were twisted tightly into Bradd’s shirt. Her chest heaved, her own shirt off her shoulder and pulled down, and her eyes stayed wide and locked on Bradd’s. His hands were flat against the water above her shoulders.
“Are you doing this?” she asked. “Or am I?”
Bradd took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he examined their situation, neither of them daring to move. “I have no idea.” Then his face relaxed and he gave her a sly grin. “But I’m willing to bet it’s me. Which means—”
He bent closer, his bottom half holding her in place as he covered her mouth with his own. Cerci tried to push him back up, but all she succeeded in doing was push them both up together in the water, pressing her further into Bradd.
His crotch was hard against her thigh, his cock seemingly begging to be released. When Bradd shifted, her skirt hitched up further, his crotch sliding along her thighs dragging his cock closer to her groin.
Before she could attempt another escape, Bradd had his tongue sweeping away her resistance. He ran it along the roof of her mouth, twisted himself within her as his body rubbed against hers. As he finally broke the kiss he teased her bottom lip between his teeth.
“We could experiment like this,” he said. Sections of his wet hair curled forward, one lock drifting next to his eye. “See how much we can control the water.”
“I don’t think this is what Ales had in mind when she said to come here,” said Cerci.
Bradd took the opportunity to slam his crotch into hers, grinding against her. Her skirt rode up so that her thighs became exposed to the breeze. Goosebumps formed along her skin, not staying relegated to her bottom half as a chill moved through her chest.
“Regardless of what she had in mind, this is something right?” said Bradd.
He bent down, raking his teeth across the top of her chest, pulling her shirt down until her nipple sat exposed, straight and stiff. He took her in his mouth, sucking gently as he worked his tongue in circles. Cerci moaned softly, a tendril of pleasure coursing from her nipple down to her vagina, wetting it for him. She sighed in desire, lifting one leg and pushing Bradd harder against her.
“Fine,” she said. “But after, we work together to share what we’ve learned. I don’t want Ales punishing me for your horniness.”
“My horniness?” said Bradd. He reached down with one hand and yanked her skirt up, removing the extra layer of fabric before he ground his crotch back into her. “You’re probably wetter than this stream.”
Cerci shrugged her shoulders against the stream, feeling the water slosh against her neck. Bradd undid his pants and shoved them down. His cock sprang free, huge and leaking against her skirt. Without ceremony, he hooked her underwear, pulling it aside as he lowered himself enough that the tip of his penis lingered against her opening.
A self-satisfied grin stretched across his face as his body tensed, ready to thrust inside of her. His other hand drifted over her shoulder and down to her breasts. And with his second hand gone, the world lost stability.
Bradd’s expression turned from confident to shocked and Cerci had enough time to gulp a breath of air before she went under. They sank. The bottom of the stream bed smacked against her back, Bradd’s weight pressing into her, still keeping her locked down.
She could feel his cock rubbing against her inner thighs and his arms wrapping about her, face pressing against her breasts. She held onto him, thinking he meant to push them off the bottom. Instead, he lifted one of her legs up and guided his penis into her.
Heat expanded inside of her as his thickness stretched her out sweetly. Her vagina pulsed around him, welcoming him just as her legs welcomed him by wrapping about his middle and pressing him further inside.
Bradd buried his face into her chest, his teeth grazing across her skin, his tongue massaging her nipples as he found purchase against the bottom of the stream to thrust again. The air in her lungs burst from her mouth at his sudden jerking. His chest slammed into her, knocking the last bit free. The bubbles rose above her head and swirled downstream as he continued to move inside of her, oblivious to what he’d done.
Desperation rose in her chest and Cerci began to struggle in real earnest, pushing against Bradd, trying to force him off her so she could breath again. But he must not have understood as he bit down on her nipple and twisted her arm about his neck as if begging her to hug him close.
She paused, eyesight beginning to waver as Bradd continued his long thrusts. Then she brought both her gloved hands together and twisted them over before sweeping them apart. The water split above her head and air rushed down to flow about her body. She sucked in a deep breath, seeing Bradd only now begin to lift up, concern upon his face.
She gave him a sweet smile that made his eyebrows raise and then slammed her hands down towards Bradd’s back. The water swirled and gushed and swept Bradd off her, his cock pulling from her leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. They stood, the still swirling water lapping just underneath Cerci’s breasts as she stumbled to the edge of the stream.
“You idiot,” she coughed out.
“I wouldn’t have let you drown,” he said.
“You didn’t even notice, you idiot,” she snapped.
Then his hands were at her hips and he was pushing her against the bank and lifting her skirt. He pushed on top of her again, jerking her underwear back to the side as he slid within her once more. He reached around to grip her thighs and pull her up further before slamming exquisitely deep.
Her chest scraped against a rock and her hair pulled where it was caught under her arm, but she moaned regardless. He gripped her shoulder as he found a new rhythm, rocking into her steadily, his breath turning into pants. Cerci struggled to arch her back, wanting the angle steeper, for him to sink even deeper into her.
A soft thud startled her. She looked up, body jerking against the bank as Bradd thrust again. It was one of his gloves. He must have thrown it. She blinked at it, wondering what he was doing, when she felt his fingers glide across her stomach and slip across her slit. She shivered and collapsed back onto the bank, using all her strength to meet his thrusts despite the ache in her lower back.
He spread her gently and began to rub, his fingers moving in time with his cock, thumb vibrating against her nub. Cerci groaned and reached back for him, grabbing at his hip. A wave splashed over them both, leaving her suddenly shivering.
“Cerci,” said Bradd, dragging out her name in a reproachful tone.
She gripped the grass for all she was worth as he sped up. Her breasts bounced against the ground and her feet were lifted clear from the bottom of the stream bed as Bradd hefted her against the bank. She felt his body close in on hers, his hand reaching further to grip her breast as he grunted from effort behind her ear.
“Cerci,” he gasped out. This time his voice held a longing quality. As if he didn’t slip into her room sometimes at night. As if she never slipped into his.
His fingers moved quicker against her, causing her vagina to squeeze and shudder. Cerci reached above her head, slower this time, and caught his hair. Her legs ached and her insides sang crazily. Then she threw herself backwards against him, bank arching even more as she came, his swollen penis sliding deeper into her as she was half lifted from the water.
Bradd groaned then, his movements becoming stilted and awkward as he attempted to keep up the pace. She felt his arm spasm and his torso slam her harder against the bank and then he was gasping out her name over and over as he came inside of her. His thrusts became irregular and he squeezed her so fiercely she could barely move to help him finish.
When he had given a last final long thrust, Bradd collapsed on top of her, his weight keeping her locked in place beneath him. Cerci tried to twist around, but Bradd laughed and found her mouth, kissing her. Deeply. Slowly. Until she felt her jaw would ache as much as the rest of her did.
She felt an evil smile play upon her lips then and she jerked her arms out and whipped her gloved hands up, twisting her fingers a hundred different ways. The stream crashed into them, ripping them from the bank and tossing them both into the water.
Cerci came up laughing, only to find a new wave of water flung into her face and Bradd standing beyond, his one gloved hand still moving through the air. She staggered back, shocked at how drained she felt, at how her legs still trembled.
“We’re probably supposed to be learning the subtleties of the gloves, not these ham-fisted motions,” said Cerci, conscious of Bradd’s gaze lingering on her chest where one of her breasts was still exposed.
“No,” Bradd agreed. “But this is much more fun.” Then he swept his hand out again and Cerci dove under the water to avoid the spray before shoving both her palms out to send a wave back towards him.