fuel your forge, the rest will follow.

It struck you, only when it was far too late, that you desperately needed to start tracking the date. Was it monthly? Every other month? Every three? Whatever the frequency you had to start writing the event down in a notebook. Pair that with fastidious checking off the dates in between. 

You needed to know her cycle better than she did. 

Because without fail the past 8 times have been nothing short of life changing. But absolutely exhausting. 

Come nightfall she descended like evening’s curtain and swept into the mill, stalking the halls until she finally found you. Her boots barely register upon the wood beam floors. Only her prints left in the ground floor's pounded dirt floor caught in lantern light  revealed she was ever there at all. 

By the first chime of bells you had busied yourself putting aside the log book.  That was your new invention-the string of bells. Not bells themselves. Someone long ago invented those, and thank goodness they did. They saved you the trouble of crafting them yourself to make up for the deficit of cow bell. Never should you live without cow bell. No your bells were strung on packaging twine.  Simple and effective, the long string of bells on the interior side of the door was mocked openly by your coworkers. Little did they know the ‘decoration’ was actually a warning system. 

By the sound of the door shutting you were lighting another lantern. Stowing it out of sight but within reason to light the room- she wasn't going to catch you without a back up this time. 

Dusting off your hands on your clothing, you heave a tired sigh. Silence in the hallway loomed like winter fog, so heavy it froze the breath in your lungs.  The hallway had never seemed darker. 

The night ? Never so insidious. 

“Work at the mill, they said. It would be a great idea, they said.” You grumble gathering a blanket from the corner. Unceremoniously tossing it upon the floor. Obscuring the dust and straw below a veil of cheap spun fiber. You refuse to spend another week picking straw from your hair because she decided the floor was “perfectly sound.”

 No, no not again. 

Being the only female human at the mill had seemed like a daunting task. And it was. It came with the prejudices of the men and the meticulous business work of being the only one with a basic education. It came with the ‘office’ located up two flights of rickety stairs that would be on any Home Inspectors shit list. And it was annoying lugging yourself up and down precariously balancing whatever you were tasked with hauling AND your cane. 

Being from another world entirely made everything far more difficult. Numbers, letters, language everything was different. It had taken you years to get a hang of the basics. But finally you felt secure in your life here. The life you were constructing like Lego blocks. Bit by bit things were coming together. It was clumsy and challenging. Often painful when you accidentally tread upon an errant brick of the past. But work at the mill was engaging enough, yet the log work wasn't the hardest part.

The hardest part was the Dwarves. Who guarded the men in the fields. On your walk there and back you see them working the smithy and cartwright shops from before dawn far into the deepest reaches of night. 

 No one beat the Dwarves in style and dress. 

Who let them look like THAT? It vividly reminds you of the writings of Viking men sweeping off women with their hygienic bathing and hair styling practices. No one bested the Dwarves in always smelling delightful. No one, in your opinion: could beat the Dwarves. 

But their impeccable grooming and body fragrances were not the problem. One in particular made your life far more complicated than the others. Far more complicated than you had anticipated here in the isolated mill. Where days passed by with gusting winds upon the rocky plain your only companions. 

At first he had just plied you with conversation. Then came the gifts. So many gifts. You had to buy additional storage for the gifts in the room you boarded in. 

Each one left you thunderstruck. At first you had politely asked what holiday these were for. Assuming that such extensive gifts were religious in nature. Oh how he laughed. Oh how your stomach bellowed with violently thrashing butterflies. 

Whoever said crushes were gentle vastly misunderstood the verb: crush. 

Three months into knowing him you learn he actually uses she. Learn that within the confines of the office walls and the nest of his arms she is she. But outside of that? He. And he only. 

He passes through every few days. Leaning against the doorframe leading to the stone bridge, without fail you plop beside him on the step. Your cane resting upon your shoulder as you whisper among yourselves. Chatting and trading gossip like that is the highlight of your week. In the privacy of the back room or the scrub beyond he provided you with gift after gift. 

Your own clumsily made gifts followed. Only brave enough to pass them to her. Fearful the prying eyes of the other humans would judge you- for how horrible you were at crafting. Or picking out items from the limited selection at hand up here in the desolate lands of the north.  Normally limited to resale Dwarven goods- which felt strange to give her. But she was always gracious. 

Yet you noticed the sparkle in her eyes and the brighter smile when you gave her a handmade gift. Regardless of how clumsily knit something was or how too big a hat fit she was always thrilled. Even the too small mittens became cherished objects. 

Gift after gift after gift sailed on and on. 

 But excessive gifting wasn't the catalyst for your current situation. 

No, no YOU had fucked up. Out beneath a stubborn heather, you leaned over and kissed his cheek. On impulse. Whispering your thanks for the handsome new cane. Sturdy with a spare tip to grip the ice, it was made of some metal you couldn't place. Lightweight and elaborately patterned. Nothing from your world could compare to the craftsmanship of the Dwarves.

Since then your life was never the same. It singled you out immediately for her affections. When she was fertile? She was ravenous. 

You were, when it was your time. But nothing compared to her. Nothing was as strong as her. Or fast as her. Or as muscular. The list went on. 

Anticipation twisting your stomach,  you lean against the doorway to steady yourself. Squinting into the dark narrow hall. “I know you're there, sweetheart.” You call down once more,  “you come to play again?”

Silence answers you.

“When are we going to have a proper lunch, huh!? I miss that!” Heaving a sigh your shoulders rise and fall. Aching for the picnic you'd share huddled behind a boulder every few weeks. But now? She wasn't so predictable. Not as routine oriented as before. 

 Now she was revealing more and more an endearing impish playful side. 

Tonight? She was feeling trixy, apparently. Pushing off the doorway you go back into the office. Resting that new cane against the desk while you gather ink pots and papers. Clumsily dropping some here and there. The plunks! Reverberating in the mill's vacant husk. 

 After that armful the desk was clear, just in case she decided she wanted to park a body there. Whether it was yours or hers or both? One could never tell. As long as it was a living body you weren't going to complain. 

 “Does your mom know you're out of the hill?” You shout again, glancing over your shoulder. Hoping to provoke a snicker or a terse response. Intentionally messing up the word for ‘hill’ and ‘mountain’ with a healthy helping of thickening your accent.

Nothing. 

Oh she WAS feeling playful! Inside your mind you could picture the exact face she was making. An adorable crooked grin. Her brows furrowed with pride thinking she was being so clever. Arms? Probably crossed. No doubt she was leaning against a wall somewhere in the vicinity, biding her time.

You shift in place feeling your own arousal growing. No one prepared you for your own body. Groaning in frustration you rub your face with both hands. 

Befuddled by your own bodily responses you had gone to the healer in the closest village. But your despair had only made her laugh, “ the older you get, my child, the worse it will become.”

 Patting your defeated shoulders she gave you the simplest advice. Which, knowing minds can guess upon its nature. It was a solution you had no trouble doling out now that you had her coming about. 

But nature had a foul sense of humor. 

Your times were synchronizing- and that was the largest issue of them all. 

You blame her.

However if you took the evidence into consideration: you had more estrogen which meant you had to be the one influencing her.

But how could you allow yourself to be at fault for this?! No, it was definitely her fault!

She had trained your hormones. And as you glance around the prepared room you realize all too late that she may have trained you too. 

Grasping the open faced lantern in one hand, cane in the other you make your way to the hallway. Raising your arm spreads flickering candle light. But it only reveals an empty hallway. Residence only to mill dust and cobwebs. No looming hulking dam to greet you.  “Did you leave already?!” Shifting you glance down the other direction, scowling into the darkness. Has she really left? Miffed, you yell louder,  “you didn't even say goodbye!!???”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than a puff of air rushes past your shoulder extinguishing the exposed flame. 

“Good bye.” She enunciated, interrupting a violent frightened gasp. Her hand meets the small of your back stopping you from tumbling back through the open doorway. “Oh no, don't do that. That would not be good.” She lightly chides a brassy laugh just at the edge of her voice. 

“Again!?” Clutching your chest you let out a long exhale, exorcizing the jump scare from your body. Wheeling out of her grasp you take another set of deep breaths. Scoldingly you wave the extinguished lantern at her.  “Five nights at Freddie's has nothing on you. But this time?” Blustering you prod her chest with the useless metal. “ Oh no! This time I have a back up lantern!” 

This time she wouldn't be creeping around in the dark delighting in your startled aroused squeaks. Giggling in your ear while your hands lashed out trying to grasp onto her. No, not this time! The spare lantern lit the space enough-there was no escaping you. 

Her face morphs into a disgruntled mask, eyes darting back and forth as she tries to sort out yet another parcel of nonsense.  “You spent five nights where?” She finally asks crossing her arms, bending towards you prompting further context.

You ignore her and wave her towards the interior. When she doesn't budge you prod her with your finger. “Inside. Let's go.”

“Very well!” She doesn't hesitate making herself at home. Removing her boots and cloak. Every article was politely placed upon a shelf,  usually reserved for order forms. Now it saw more use as her personal garment rack.

Watching her wandering pulls the wry smile back on your face. Yanking on the handle you heave it closed, barring the door with the usual plank.  The heavy thunk of wood kicks up a shower of dust in the dim light.

“Five nights at Freddie's.” You begin absently loving how cute she was when her nose crinkles. “It's a scary game where things pop out of the dark.”  

Satisfied with that explanation she breezes back over to you. “I thought there was a person named Fred. Perhaps you locked him in the basement?” Standing before you her smile grows more and more cat-like by the second. 

She repeats your name enigmatically, finger pressing the center of your chest she walks you back against the wall. “Hello again.” She greets huskily. Lazily she boxes you in, leaning her one arm against the wall. The other caresses your face with threatening tenderness. 

“Hello, to you too. Mister?” Setting your cane against the wall your eyes dart back to hers. Silently waiting for her to continue. 

 The seconds tick by and so does her hand. Gingerly tracing the planes of your face admiringly. Her face relaxing, brows softening. Seconds turn to what felt like a solid minute.

But was it? You weren't sure. She killed any notion of time you held. Unless it was time you shared. This room is your little liminal space.

Sighing tersely your hand catches her wrist but her hand keeps moving, completely ignoring you. Or rather: enjoying your touch too much to protest. Squeezing your fingers against her thick wrist you continue vexed and perplexed. “Am I to get a name this time? Or should I choose one from my list of human endearments?”

Eyes flitting to you her grin takes an impish turn. Teeth flashing. “Oh, why don't you pick for me.” Her palm envelops your entire cheek. Fingers teasing the hair at your nape. Sending shivers down your body. “ I did like sweetheart last time. Darling the time before. Princess was entertaining.” She lists thoughtfully, head tilting as she soaks you in. 

“YOU are entertaining.” You snort yanking the tattered list from your pocket, scanning the names. Humming the jeopardy theme, your fingers running up and down her arm. The list had seen better days. Originally meant to provoke her into telling you any name whatsoever: it had failed. Laughably so.

 It was a game now.

Everything was. This entire experience living in a fantasy world was like a massive dissociative episode. Any day you expected to open your eyes and find now your new barrel ceiling but the sanitation white of a hospital room. A growing to do list on the table beside you. 

Grumbling through the list  you subconsciously lean into her touch. Shifting to and fro as hormones build mountains. You wanted nearer. To hold her. To feel that peaceful bubble surrounding you when you embrace her. When she wasn't being mischievous she was a sanctuary. She was your peace. Peace?

“Dove.” Announcing it firm and clear shoots her brows higher. “ You're a little dove tonight.” Tapping her chest with the paper you charitably add, “unless tonight is the night I get a name?”

Instead she imitates a dove, cooing against your ear with frightening accuracy. Her lips skim your skin in a heated tease. Chuckling at how your body trembles with every light brush of her lips. 

Shaking your head, your eyes squint disgusted by how accurate she was. At everything. “Can you stop being perfect at LITERALLY everything?”

“No.” She replies simply, still nuzzling the crux of your neck. Pecking kisses along your skin. 

“You want a kiss?” Your finger curls under her chin, coaxing her forward. Tracing her lips with your eyes. Your chest is feather light with anticipation. Rising up to your full height you lean forward, teasing her “are you having a hard day?”

“My day has improved greatly now that I am with you.” Grasping your face with both hands, her lips press a whispering kiss on your lips. Only rejoining you in soft revelry when you murmur, “again.”

The mellow kisses scrape along your mouth. Her satisfied hums reverberate through your chest. Your hold upon her softens following the rhythm she set. Footwork matching hers. Maintaining the smooth pace set by the music of her breathing and the pounding beat of your heart. She assuages every biting doubt within you, and you her.

Your ‘dove’ was precious. Precious to you. 

Attraction to her was a tragedy but the sweetness of it was worth every moment. You would build a world around her if she let you. You would have her if she let you. Her voice alone could raise you from your grave. Her name was solace. 

She held you with attentiveness and yes, she consoled you. Your hands held her with reverence each time you caught her unaware. Slipping your fingers between hers. Plying her with some story or song from your world beyond the veil. She may be built for power but she never used her power on you. 

Not even when she was like this. Not even when she was craving you closer than close. She knows far better than most that a gift demanded is not a gift. A trapped creature does not love: it submits. 

She never forced. Never pressured. Always came with both of you in mind. Both your hands entwined. Your adoration for her all but apparent and growing by the day. What you were to her you didn't know. But should she ask? You consider her a lover. Yet you remain silent upon it. The unspoken words collecting on your tongue are more suited sweet for gravestone epithets than living ears.  

However her gentleness vanishes when you nip her tongue, setting her loose. Hunger takes over. Building rapidly from there you both fall into lust's gravity. The light moans deepen. Her bassy voice sends you reeling. Reeling yourself to her with a tug of your arms around her neck. 

Obligingly she steps closer. Pressing you against the wall with a smidgen of her strength. Needily her mouth collides with yours. Her sounds growing rougher and frail. Fingers skimming up and down your sides, trailing and splaying up and down. Up and down.

You rise against her, crushing and pressing fever hot kisses along her lips. Lacing your tongue with hers provoking a luscious moan vibrating through her throat. All while she continued the kiss. Continues to graze with teeth along your lips. 

It's then she feels your chest rising against hers. Your hardened nipples press against her chest. Hears and feels the gasp that comes between a pair of delving kisses. Feeling your stomach ebbing and flowing with burning lungs. Realizing what was happening she cuts off the kiss. Ending prematurely.

Her lips pull from yours with a trail of saliva connecting your mouths. Tongue snaking out, she licks your lips clean. Only pulling back enough to peer down at you, eyes intense and glowing on their own luminescence within the shadow of her body.“If I become carried away, I apologize.” She rasps, her arm bracing against the wall once more. 

Fascinated by how her playing canine teeth have made your lips puffy and tingle. Panting, your head shakes.“Don't apologize. I like you as you are.” You affirm peering back at her and her inhuman looks. Because suddenly? Suddenly you realize how a rabbit feels clutched in the claws of a predatory beast. “Give me a moment to catch my breath. Remember our little signal?” 

Her eyes drag down your jaw to your neck, only snapping back when you remind her. “Oh yes, yes I do. You remember what I enjoy?” She giggles, her voice so low it sometimes feels like a wall of sound.

“As a matter of fact I do.” Did you ever! It was hard to forget THAT. Her amused laughter conjures up the night she'd handed it over. Her little ‘treat’ was not so little. Her little treat for her alleviation so to speak was held in a cloth satchel in the desk. You slide under her arm peeling away to retrieve it. Her gaze tracking across the room. 

With every movement you are more and more aware of her eyes on your body. Can feel the heat from her stare with each mundane bend and twist while you retrieve the bag. Normally you hated being watched. But her? She could watch you. You'd permit it. The slick between your legs grows. 

“Shed your garments.” Her command comes with an uneasy stillness. Like the surface of a deep pond, water obscured by panes of ducked. 

“Give me a minute.” You call back rummaging through the drawer. The bag trapped beneath piles of parchment. Listening intently to her weight shifting upon the floor, every creek of a board makes you inhale then slowly exhale. The slide and drop of fabric falls like a phantom behind you.

You're ignoring the sensation of dizziness from vending down by conjuring up something better. Vividly remembering how cute she was staring at you when you used this. How sweet her voice was when she told you how to change or move differently for her. 

Her clothes were going to be so dusty when she picked them back up. Giggling beneath your breath you can still see her in your mind. Deep hued attire muted with a fantasmic coat of dust. She haunted you in the best ways. 

 Your fingers finally close around the plush velvet bag. After another tug you rent it free from its prison. “Got it. It was stuck.” Slowly raising your head you swallow back a wave of nausea. Turning just as slowly to face her again, you hold it up to continue building her anticipation. 

Closing the distance your eyes dart between the clothes and her face. Her nakedness is all too familiar. It’s when her soul was naked that she was most beautiful to you. “Some days I fear you only come to get naked and break rules.” You admit, “now?  I love seeing you-clothes or not. It doesn't matter to me.”

“Do not misunderstand.” Her eyes flash dangerously at that statement. A declaration of fondness wasn't taken lightly. The fact you ‘love seeing her’ made her feel all the more wanted. Loved. Respected. She would haunt you for the rest of your life. By choice. She could specter the halls of any other human’s walls. Yet here she was. In a dusty mill giving her all. To you. 

Elaborating her hands move in sweeping gestures as she speaks. Making quite the show for your spectating purposes. “I greatly look forward to our time together. No matter what we do. But right now?” She fondly sighs, bringing you close. “I want my hands on you. ” She growls out between bared teeth. Large hands groping your hips and ass with increasing lewdness.

Carnal ideas multiplying by the score with every passing moment. “Touch my chest, more please,” your request comes with a pliant whine. Your chest has been tender and aching. Now? Now your need becomes ten fold and when her hands press against your hardening nipples you whimper. That whimper turns to a sharp whine as she firmly gropes. Even through your top it was perfect. Tracts of flesh swallowed by her palms and fingers.  The sore pressure pressing against your chest mitigated by a wave of pleasure with each gentle massage.

Her palms press and roll your chest. Watching with vulturous  intent as your chest moves beneath her touch. Stiff peaks press against her palm. She let's out a thrilled huff, eyes devouring you alive. 

“Oh, dove. That feels so good.” Toes curling your body shifts against her once more. Your eyes slip closed, relishing her touch.

Her hands left your hips shifting against her. Aching between your legs rising. Your own fingers stumble over themselves upon the bag's tie struggling to unknot it. The thick cord held twists of metal making it quite hefty. It took all your concentration she didn't occupy to finally get the knot undone.

“You're delightful. Breathtaking. Have I mentioned hmmm, huggable?” She obliges with traveling hands skimming up and down your sides. Exciting a thrill down your spine. 

Finally pulling out the jar of lubricant, you pass it to one of her hands. “Here,” you rub her arm affectionately.

 “You're incredible. I love your laugh and your smile.” You list leaning against her, “and your eyes. How you lurk like a horror in the darkness? I do love that too.” Wrinkling your nose you tack on, “took some time to get used to that. But now? Hmmm cute.” Each time you tap her nose with your index finger you speak it. “Cute. Cute. Cute.”

She chuckles, resting her hand upon your waist. Head tilting at your shenanigans, with a graceful smile and shining eyes. “Horror? Hmm I don't find myself particularly frightening but I suppose we can be. Can't we?” She poses thoughtfully running her hand up your arm, noticing the difference within your muscles and bones. “I will not allow you to come to harm from the truly scary things.”

Face heating at her casual pledge, you nudge her.  “I will protect you from everything I can. But I think I am more suited to fighting dust bunnies rather than, ah I don't know? What do you dwarves fight these days? Trolls? Inadequate paychecks? Starvation?”

Pressing your finger over her mouth before she interrupts your train of thought, you ask quite sincerely. “Do dwarves pay taxes? If so I offer you tax evasion. You can hide in the basement with Fred.”

The smile on her face morphs from confused to incredulous to amused. Kissing your finger she moves it aside with her hand. “So you do have Fred in your basement?”

Shrugging a shoulder you sigh sadly. Mockingly dropping your gaze to the floorboards. “It's more of a cellar. Really. But! We will cease talking about Fred, id rather spend our time together talking about you.”

Holding the bag aloft you put on your best waiter voice. “Dwarven version of a strap made- in what year was this made?”

The fondness in her eyes grows each passing moment, obviously enjoying the stunt you were pulling for her amusement.

 Her fingers rest upon her chin, a patient grin on her lips.  “Who's calendar? Man or dwarves? Freds?” She quips, eyeing the bag with anticipatory delight. 

 ” I took Fred's calendar. He is not permitted to know the passage of time in his dungeon. Anyone else's calendar at this point works better than Fred's inescapable midnight existence.” Returning to the strap you toss your head gently to her and it. Holding it out upon both your hands. Regally bowing to her. Offering her her toy with mock reverence.

Snatching it, she holds her it with a familiar grin. Her finger plays along the polished head, emphasizing each word with a tap of her finger. “This point?”

 ”For that crime, no more fake cock for you! Give it!” Eyes rolling in chagrin, you reach for it, she pulls it away from your hand. “I will give you a point if you don't hand it over!” You protest lunging after it only for your hand to close around the dusty air.  Your feet hit the ground and you begin careening to the left. Sent off balance by your own impish existence. 

Easily she grasps your shoulder and rights you. Once youre stable she giggles brightly.. Twirling on her heel, holding it just out of your ever waving arm. “That is what I was hoping would happen!! Your intelligence never ceases to amaze me!!”  Leaving your fngers wriggling in the air only centimeters away from it. But she pulls it ever further.

Doggedly you keep going. Snatching at it. Jumping for it. Until the inevitable happens again and the world starts tilting. Your stomach twists as vertigo takes over and your feet stumble over each other. 

Instantly she has your arm grasped in hers. Stopping a head long tumble into the ground. “Don't get dizzy!”  She cautions, holding your weight with ease. “ Sadly I see no bouncing for you tonight. ” Her eyes slide to the strap, flipping your stomach at the insinuation. She would change your blood pressure just with the idea she was churning up. 

“I am fine, little dove. But please, let me take care of you.” You assure, feeling the softening smile as a rush of fondness floods your heart. Relishing the playful glitter in her voice and eyes. 

Knowing you would tend to her in the way she wanted. It was nice to be needed. It was even nicer to be wanted. Not for your body but for who you were inside. Using this wasn't about dominance but about providing and caring for her. Watching her feel good in vulnerable beautiful ways. 

Dwarves? You found they held a deep appreciation for the natural world. They wondered the same at a stagnant pond as they did a rushing waterfall. Beauty to them was a natural state of being. Not in a magazine or sold in a bottle.

 Did they have beauty standards? It appeared so. But she never enforced them upon you nor did she bring them up.

She chuckles mirthfully, leaning as she places a kiss upon your nose. Running her hand along your upper arm she smiles a cherishing smile. “And are you truly feeling well today?After all that spinning? Dizzy?”

Eyes cascading to the ground your finger scratches your cheek. Humming Skeptically. “Wellll-! A bit dizzy and I have been pretty tired today but I think I am fine.”

Her nostrils flare. Eyes digging into yours. “You are certain?”

Reassuringly you grasp her arm. “ My little dove, I want to. I enjoy taking care of you like this.” Shyly you whisper an admission best kept between the two of you. “Plus, you are very cute when you are like THAT- and it is fun!”

“Cute? Hmm. I do not know if I have been called cute by anyone but yourself in years.” Nodding, she agrees. “Very well. But we will take time when you require rest. You shall not come to harm in this.”Her warning is clear and stern.

Rolling your eyes you watch her take her spot on the ground. Heart warming at her consideration and support. Human fragility- or the perception of it  seemed to be a thing with dwarves.  

Once you saw him and a friend blanch in the face when a man held up a splinter filled hand. As if the large slivers of wood trapped in his skin would be the end of him. 

Then the time came when you had a fever. She was convinced you would die, appearing outside your window every evening. 

 But now? Now you cannot help being a brat, “no, let me die loving you.” Plopping down you begin undoing your boots, peering at her from the corner of your eyes.  Noticing how her face beams at the word ‘loving’. Maybe one day she would say it back. Until then you would be the one bringing those words to life. 

Yet she made it impossible to concentrate on undressing. The entire time she sat on the blanket, legs spread in an obvious incitement of your hormones. Her tongue lathing up and down the surface of the strap. The polished surface shining with her makes your mouth water. 

“Dove, you are distracting me.” And she was doing it on purpose. The fiend!

She giggles, flashing a coy smile. “No. I'm helping you. And warming it up.”

“No! You!” Fumbling over a sock you toss it at her. She bats it away with ease. Leaving you scowling once more.  “You are distracting me!”

Her tongue runs hypnotizing circles along the head. Unable to turn away, you stare transfixed as the head disappears between her lips. Her hand running it in and out of her mouth conjuring up salacious noises and an even more dewy expression in her eyes. 

Soft baiting whimpers issue from her lips as she fantasizes about you. Your hands in her hair holding it for her while she played. Played with you like she desperately wanted. It didn't take long for her dream to come true. 

Standing before her you gather the straps of the toy,attaching every belt round the appropriate part of your body. She stops her teasing, pulling off the strap with a long drip of saliva following her departing mouth. One that hangs open ever so slightly watching you. Dipping your finger between the band and your leg, you ensure a healthy fit. 

 Once she sees you are set her hand grasps around the polished shaft, tugging you forward to her. Smirking she presses against it, there it presses applying pressure to your body. It sends your eyes fluttering closed and a deep inhale. Once again the head disappears between her lips and she begins bobbing. 

“Having fun, little dove.” Licking your lips you watch her encompass the burnished surface.  “You don't have to, you know I can warm it with my hands.” You coax your fingers beneath her hand gingerly entwining your fingers with hers. 

 Watching her with growing need with every draw of her lips. Every twist of her face as she works it over and over. The knot in your stomach tightens harder and harder. 

She cracks open an eye watching you from between your legs. It sends the shiver down your spine. You feel her hand running up and down your thigh. The other remains entangled in your fingers, where you give her tender squeezes.  Spellbound by her lips. “Dove, I'm sure it's warm now.” You say sincerely, catching hold of her cheeks. “Let me in. Please?”

She departs from it. Looking at you from against your hip. Sighing with a pleasant smile. “I have been looking forward to you all day. Why must you rush me?”

“Lube.” You prompt, kindly undoing the top for her. Watching with bated breath as her fingers spread it along the toy and then down against herself. 

Not wasting any time, she got comfortable on her knees. Her chest resting upon the ground while you help her adjust her legs. 

“Comfortable?” You ask, rubbing her thighs gently as you settle behind her on your knees. 

She adjusts here and there until she confirms. Heady eyes peering back into yours. “Yes. I am ready.” 

Slowly you edge the tip of the strap between her legs. Dragging the head along her trembling inner thighs, there she's already dripping. Her back arches involuntarily straining. 

“You're doing so good.” Leaning you place a kiss on her broad back, muscles rippling with anticipation. Adding another husky praise just to see her shiver. “So good for me.”

Circling the hard head along her thighs, your hand grips her hip. Grasping tighter and tighter building her thrill with each swirl. “Is this how you want me? You want to feel us?”

Head bowing forward she moans your name. Oh the turns tabled when you had the stupid fake penis. It made you giggle to this day how universal sex toys were. Everywhere there was a fake penis. A fake penis that allowed you to merge with her and bring her to her knees with ecstacy. The fake penis she craved with insurmountable need for its vulnerability and sex's unspoken declaration of trust.

“Please? I want you close.” She requests. 

 The head presses against her entrance and she shifts back taking the tip inside her body. 

Obligingly you slowly press into her. “That's my beautiful one. ” Taking your time filling her centimeter by centimeter. Loving the view of her back arching and her neck craning forward. “That's it. Take me, I know you can.” You sweetly praise in a hush.

Her body shakes and spasms around you and against you. Her breathing hitches. A sharp gasp fills the room while your slow movement sweetly torments her. 

Dirty talk in the way you did it was new to her. Sometimes she laughed- which you loved. Sometimes she moaned- another love of yours. Sometimes her nose wrinkles and you have to pause to explain some nuanced cultural thing- you held an adoring love for that side of her too. No, you had a deep love for every reaction crossing her face. All of them. Equally. At once beautiful and perfect in their own ways.

Finally you sit in to the hilt, caressing her lower back tenderly. Appreciating the rippling movements of her body and the way she visibly clenches you. “What a good little dove you are. Feel how deep I am?”  You don't move, but your other hand reaches around her hips where it perches on her mons. 

Threefold were the reasons you do this. One: it presses the strap against both her sensitive spots. Two: many, including her, were turned on by rubbing the mons because it externally presses the g spot. Finally: if you leaned over and ONTO her it made distribution of weight easier. This activity was laborious, dizziness and discomfort were constant threats. But they wouldn't stop you. 

A delicious frail moan leaves her as you press gently against her mons with your hand. Pushing her sweet spots flush against the strap. “Feel good?”

“Yes. Yes, so good.” She murmurs, mouth agape with each breath of air swelling her ribs. Hormones have her primed and strung tightly. She appreciatively speaks your name in a way only meant for beautiful untouchable things. 

“Good. I am glad.” Placing a kiss upon her back, you nuzzle affectionately. Rolling your hips back she whines in dismay. The strap slipping through her folds. 

Only to jolt forward with a shout when you rut into her in one motion. Her fingers dig into the blanket, scrunching the fabric into her palms. She cries your name again, desperate and pleading. 

Biting your lip you repeat the motion, hips stuttering until you fall into a comfortable rhythm. “I love helping you. Seeing you.” Keeping yourself steady with the hand gripping her hip. Always pressing and rubbing against her mons. Ensuring every stroke ran along each sweet spot within her. Puffing gasps leave you when you finally find the rhythm needed to apply pressure to yourself. 

“I've been practicing for you,” you grunt against her back, shining in sweat in the light of the lantern. It had been hard using it the first few times. But it was such an intimate psychological event that even when you didn't do it right you still got off. From watching her parted lips mewling and her body shaking. 

 Her dew drips down her trembling thighs with each passing moment. But when your hand slides to stroke the hidden stem and exposed head of her clit she loses all restraint. 

Crying out sharp ah ah ah's, with every thrust. Her forehead presses into the floor, mouth agape. Heavily panting beneath the onslaught of pleasure. Upon your chest her back muscles ripple and tense. Against your hand her body throbs and heats. 

Your eyes track her body, checking she is enjoying herself. Noticing every delicious detail of her which builds nothing short of pride and affection within your heart. You speak her name and she answers with a pliant whimper. 

Your fingers stroke in tandem with your hips. Carefully finding your way up the stalk hidden within her. Traveling down in soft pulls. Only stopping to gather her slick and the lube. Lubricating her exposed bud. Sending her a twitch beneath your grasp. “That's it, dove. That's it.” You pant from the exertion and the high she was taking you on.

Beside your legs her toes curl and flex. Instinctively searching for something to ground herself. You give her no grace. She doesn't signal to stop.  Your eyes are constantly glancing to check in on her. But from past experience you know she needs this, she told you as much, however you also know that this? This wouldn't even scratch the libido itch.

There was no way a human could give her the speed and power she really wanted. She would do that herself while you rested beside her. Yet here she was beneath you, eyes screwed shut, lips open wet and panting. Deliciously falling apart in ways that had you going mad. 

She could have gone to any other dwarrowdam or, if she fancied, any dwarf for that matter. But she never did. She sought you out each time.

You had figured you were a strange special interest. She must have a liking for human women and just happened upon the only one for miles.

 A strange thing for a dwarf, from what you heard. After all, you weren't aesthetically Dwarven. 

But she loved pawing your curves and clutching your hips while she devoured you. Her hands shamelessly groping your soft tracts of skin all while she coaxed you further towards the edge. She seemed to get off watching you twist and squirm and moan for her to ‘keep going’. 

Her fancy Dwarven sex toys had leveled the playing field for you, all things considered. This one? Wasn't even your favorite. Your favorite was the double ended dildo they had. Yes they had those too. Dwarves had almost everything,surprisingly. Rolling you moan at the thought of it. How good it felt to be moving into her and feel her moving back.

If only this were the same. But her body was taking everything. The obscene noises and smell of sex had you on edge. The pressure against your body with every forward thrust. Every nerve is alive and alight. 

The frenzied pace of your hips brings you closer to her and her closer to completion. She is dripping onto the floor. Her noises becoming louder. Her back arching. Her fingers twisting the blanket. She was lost in the feeling. Just like she wanted.

 If only you could go back and get her a vibrator. Ovulation leaves her an absolute mess but a vibrator might help mitigate some. Instead she came here. Pleading for you to rub her swollen chest and her puffy folds the moment you were alone with her. Peppering you with kisses all while holding you with reverence. 

Cuddling together your voices hush and vanish into the night air, hands held and legs entangled. You existed as each other's haven. 

“There! Right there!” She cries out. The shaft runs at just the right angle to hit a particularly sensitive spot. Obligingly you pause, shifting your focus to hitting ‘there’ again and again.

 For once someone couldn't get enough of you. It was addicting.

Once you find your rhythm your hand goes back to pressing upon her mons. Her raw voice floods the space. Her forehead resting upon her arm as she presses back against you. Meeting your thrusts over and over in a maddening rhythm. Shoving the base against your clit again and again. 

“Halwê! Perfect!” She cries back, her body tensing deliciously clenching the toy. Loving each moment her tear filled eyes peer back at you while she cried out.

Leaning back you watch her body tightening around it. The psychological pleasure of the view and your Dove's cries leaves the knot in your stomach twisting tighter. Dizziness begins to build. Closing your eyes you focus on your breathing. Gripping her hips you concentrate on driving it along her. Bringing her pleasure and comfort. Giving her release she craved. Further you were motivated by her frail cries and staggering gasps. 

Beneath you her body pulses. Her body stiffens. Her eyes shut tighter and tighter. Back arching her climax shatters her to pieces. Voice raw with every gasp. 

Every leftover tremor you wring from her. Slowing your hips, watching her face relax and the tension recede. Relief apparent on her features, you sigh happily. Adoring how she dreamily sighs and rests against the blanket. 

Sitting in her to the hilt, you hold tight to her. Breathless from exertion you take the moment, soaking her in and memorizing her. How her chest expands with her breath. How she adjusts on her arm to look back at you. Even watching her toes curl was endearing. “You like me, don't you?” You ask softly, wondering if you could get at least that answered. 

She did. Otherwise she wouldn't be here. She could have anyone else but here she was. Asking for the same attention again and again. 

“No,” she responds coyly, biting her lip. Her hips wriggle moving the strap against you provoking a wanton moan from you. Watching with lust hooded eyes, over her shoulder. “You're cute. That's all.”

Biting back another moan when she applies pressure again. Your head lays against her back pressing the pair of you closer together. “Liar! Oh! You! You're a lying liar who lies.” You sing jokingly against her sweat coated back, topping off the tease with a kiss to her skin. All the while her laughter fills the room.

Your hand leaves her center and joins your other perched upon her ass. There you press them tightly together around the strap, where she twitches and whimpers.

Taking a much needed break you rest your weight on her. Flush to the base. Listening to hear inhale and exhale. 

Checking in with yourself, scanning your own body for weakness. For pain. For dizziness. You find each one. A perfect bingo. Dammit. “I am feeling dizzy. Unfortunately.” No matter what, you didn't want to stop. You wanted to keep going but that was how you got hurt. Not listening to your body. 

“Time for a break then.”  Her reminder is welcome but a bit disappointing. You loved feeling an extension of yourself inside of her. Bringing her such wonderful feelings gave you a sense of pride you hadn't expected. 

Sighing you run a hand along your forehead, slicking back the sweat. “Would you like me to keep it on?” You ask,  pulling free from her. 

Her chin perches on her hand, gazing back over her shoulder at you. Studying you for the fatigue or discomfort you weren't reporting to her. Her finger taps upon her chin. A thoughtful hum reverberated through her chest before she finally responded. “No, take it off, I want to hold you.”

“If you insist.” Undoing the straps and placing it back upon the bag to wash later. Or use, if she so felt the desire again tonight.

 She turns and sits up, folding her legs.  As you begin to sit she shakes her head, “no no. Come here.” Stepping over you follow her beckoning hands to stand before her. 

“Leg up.” She instructs patting her shoulder and with her other hand the appropriate leg. 

Balking, you stare down at her with widening eyes. “Leg up? But I'm dizzy. I'll fall.”

“I will not let you fall.” She tugs gently on you. “ I want all your weight on me. Come now, trust me.”

“I trust you, it's just weird.” Grasping her shoulder and opposite arm you maneuver your leg, draping it over her shoulder. “This is! Uhm!” Very intimate! You could feel the edge of her breath over your core. Biting your lip you watch her with hooded eyes. Watch her bring you flush against her.

“Is it good? Dizzy?” She lifts and shifts you closer, clutching your ass and with her opposite hand your hip. “Lean completely on me and hold on.”

 You did. One hand on her shoulder. The other in her hair. “Yes, it's good. I don't feel like I'm going to fall now. Just don't move my head around and I'll be fine.” Tightening your grip the moment she pulled you against her completely. 

“Tell me when that changes.” Her lips part and close around your clit. 

“Oh?! Oh! Oh fuck!” Sharply gasping with every sucking jolt from her mouth. She held you firmly, there was no way to wriggle away while she teases. She wasn't going to let you fall, even if it was for her. 

She alternates between sucking and lapping between your folds. Your voice pitches and falls into the tightening knot in your stomach. Her beard rubs against your thigh with each movement of her jaw. Sending tingles at the soft scraping texture. Her nickname spills from you in a shuddering moan.

Looking up at you from against your stomach she smiles, beard and mouth glistening wet with you. “Are you?”

“Yes! Yes I'm good,” you gush tugging her face back down. “Keep going. God, keep going.” It was so good. You were open for her and she was so close. Her tongue was so warm it left a tingling trail over your skin. Each suck made you clench tighter, your thigh pushing against her head. Her nickname falls again and again in alternating faltering whimpers and cries. 

The position was so intimate it made your head spin from bliss alone. Now as she suckled on you in rhythmic pulls she had YOU releasing breathless volleys of ah ah ah ah! 

Your legs shake and your body quivers, fortunately she held you firmly. Relying on her. Trusting her without question. She would never allow you to fall. She would never drop you. Unless it was off an orgasmic cliff like she was doing now. Pushing you higher and higher towards an untimely end. 

An end that comes sooner than you wanted. Your work with the strap and her delving tongue set you up for success.

Your body wound tighter and tighter against her. Hips stuttering against her grasp. Until finally your body snaps and shatters against her.  Catching your breath you clutch tighter to her head to remain upright. Sweet words spill from your lips. Listening to her hungry moans as she continues tasting you.

 Her head moves up and down lathing and sucking, chasing the squirting pleasure rushing from you. Moaning low as she catches you on her tongue. Sampling your creation intimately. Knowing now that she has teased you so well you were soaking her tongue again and again. 

And with her tongue she once more pushes you towards release. Sucking and lapping along your swollen folds. Soaking in your meek cries. Delighting in how high strung you were thanks to biology. Thanks to your adoration for her. Thanks to her techniques.

“More.” You keen as her hand thoroughly gropes you, keeping you close and squishing your skin.  “Please,” you gasp. The fact she could hold your weight and please you this well had your arousal sky rocketing.

Her moan vibrates you, sending you reeling. Your hips stuttering are finally freed and she guides you in grinding against her mouth. Feverishly rutting against her. Rubbing yourself again her succulent mouth. Your body climbing higher and tighter against her lips. Against her tongue. 

And then? She withdraws.

Whimpering pitifully your hand tightens in her hair. “Dove! Why?” You feel her lips kiss along your thigh, ignoring the twist of your hips. Trying in vain to close the distance. To get back your high. But she keeps to her work leaving kisses along your skin.

She sends you back up, rubbing her cheek along your heated core. Her lips part, but instead of taking you again she blows a soft puff over you. Giggling as you shake. “ Why? Because this is for you and I want you to feel so good.” 

You didn't doubt this. Especially when her fingers slide from behind, lightly stroking your slit. So close to the opening it made you whine again. Biting back a moan your hand tightens in her thick hair. Tightening and tightening. “Babe, please.” You plead, wanting it to continue and end. Wanting her closer and closer.

“Oh, halwê, I want to be close to you and only you. Do you understand?” She asks duskily, nuzzling you with her nose and lips. So soft and pleasant upon your throbbing skin it sends tingles through your limbs. Lighting up your heart.