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Heaven Sent by Sophie
This is a sequel to another story which can be found at :
Innocence and Justice

Contains ADULT material

 

Part 5

The next morning saw a solitary figure dark against the pale soil of his personal battleground. The sleek apparition could not have been called natural, there was fire in the tense, worked body, a heat of decision that the kata through which he moved focused into a pique. Richie was alone in his own world: Michael had not stirred from his bed as the young Immortal had snuck out far earlier than the dawn; Harry had cried off from another tutorial the previous evening, his excuse the late hour of their return, the truth, his knowledge that his friend would not have made a good tutor the next morning. Such a surmise was only too apparent in the hard glare that could have cut a soul as efficiently as the rapier in hand sliced the air. Things were going on in the warrior's head, ideas and images that the power of the kata laid in his mind's eye. As the blade swung into air, it wasn't mere space through which it sung, but the considerations within. The Immortal's muscles were glistening, his clothes were soaked, and in reality, his spirit and physique ached in unison, exhausted by an indistinct time of disciplined combat. It had been dark when Richard Ryan had jogged away from the silent farm, the grey tinge of dawn had been breaking the edge of the hills when he had drawn the sword for the first time, and now the sun was climbing well into the sky. Life would have returned to the comfortable buildings an experience away, but it meant little to the centred being whose only sign of weariness was the guttural catch in his throat as his breath passed in and out.

The weapon sliced down through another ghost of indecision, as for the umpteenth time, Richie faced the ideas that had been lain before him in the rashness of night. There was his love, so strong and sure, but in habitual resignation it hung back behind his logical thoughts, the ones which spoke to him of the future, however far, when there was a possibility of the choice being wrong. His mind told him that he had Naomi now, a friend, a soul-mate, but untouchable, taboo due to her vows, it was what he knew, the pain to which he had grown accustomed. Then there was the thump of his heartbeat which told him of the glorious possibility of that which was shut away from him as yet. Still, the idea was a little frightening, and what was had a grudging hold on his thoughts; it nagged at him, suggesting the terrible future where the decision to alter their relationship was its destruction - a life without Naomi was not one he wanted to face anymore. A year ago, Richie Ryan, a free-agent, a man who would not have thought twice about the offer he had been given, but the advent of his diva had changed all that. This was a creature thinking of years to come, not the impulsive, naive boy, but an Immortal who saw the years stretching before him, and didn't want the chance of living them alone. His fears were almost logical, but a love fulfilled made so much more sense to his heart.

Up, defence, twist and cover the back with the sword; round, slice down. Up, back, protect - and then, the final, fatal, swift horizontal slice cut through the last monster of doubt. A hissed breath and he eased his muscles away from the conflict. A moment of pain ran through the young Immortal, partly as the world caught up and his mind let in the consequences of the excessive physical meditation, partly as his decision still hung uncertain in his thoughts. Yet, it was too late to go back into the fight, despite the power around him, concentration was gone and there was no energy inside the figure to push him back into the kata - the choice was final, and all he could do now was talk to his beloved.

There was a freedom in the clarification of destiny, and the man who walked back to the life on the ranch may have seemed at first glance as an exhausted wreck, but anyone who looked closer could see a brightness to his eyes and a purpose in his manner. Youth was spread all around the yard, in various forms of activity, and those who greeted Richie received a pleasant smile and a wave, but the one person he wanted to see was missing. The Immortal was informed upon his inquiry as to her whereabouts that she had gone to town to help clear up the mess that the partiers had left in the hall. It was a small frustration, now the election had been made, he wanted desperately to face his darling and try to explain himself, but his search in vain, Richie headed for the showers.


The young man plodded out of the showers yawning and trying to stretch relentlessly aching muscles; he hadn't slept well and that coupled with the intense training session left him more than tired. Absently curious about how long he had actually spent in the wilderness of his psyche, Richie picked up his watch as he sat down on his bed. He raised his eyebrows as he gathered that the kata had lasted a good three hours, and the reason for the tingling in his body as it renewed itself made sense. Yet, it didn't matter; he put down the time piece and then rubbed his damp torso as his eyes moved to staring front, blankly; there had been too much concentration for too long, and his brain wandered around itself in peaceful circles where the hot water had washed away any thought he had left.

The young man was still sat gazing into space when an entrant disturbed his dreamy state. It was Michael, and his face said that he was a little disgruntled with his comrade; he glanced once at the dozy youth, making sure that eye contact had been made before turning and moving swiftly to his own collection of belongings. The guilt Richie felt this time was justified, he had deliberately deserted the teenager, and as he watched the taut back, he felt the need to apologise.

"I'm sorry about this morning's run," he began meekly.

"You should be," came from lips that spoke of disappointment, and the athlete turned around to confront his companion.

The returned stare was full of repentance, and Michael was not a boy to hold a grudge; the dark-skinned youth was well aware of the motivations behind his friend's disappearing act, and with a shrug, he eventually relaxed the hard stare.

"I needed some time alone, Mike," Ryan explained quietly.

"Feeling any less testy today?" a grin followed the admission and Richie had to nod with a smile as he recalled his petulant behaviour the night before.

"I sorted a few things out," he nodded more vigorously and chose to start moving into action to face the rest of the day; grabbing some clothes, he continued jovially, "You can tell the others they can lower their riot shields now."

The teenager laughed at that, and the young man was glad that his humour had returned.

"Okay," the boy answered, and finding the scarf for which he had come in, turned to leave his companion to get dressed. "When you're ready, come join us at the archery range, Garion's wicked with a bow."

"I will," the young man promised, and reached to loosen the towel around his waist.

His hand froze on the tuck as his spirit shifted and a blur of colour came charging towards him. The young man collapsed back onto the bed as the missile contacted with him showing no signs of slacking off an attack. Small hands slapped his bare chest, and enraged little grunts came from the contorted young face on which the defender eventually focused. There was a vehement rage inside the toddler as she pummelled her momentarily stunned opponent; it was only the second time he experienced being the butt of the little angel's anger, and Richie didn't like it one bit. His bonnie sweetheart was not meant to turn on him, upsetting her was a crime on his conscience and it was instinctive within the Immortal to try and soothe. As gently as possible, the youth took hold of delicate wrists, and held the struggling child off him enough to sit up. The girl struggled and complained hotly, and for the first time, her compatriot saw a side of her that worried him; the little cherub bared her teeth and became a menace which tried to bite where she couldn't scratch.

"Hey!" Richie protested urgently, avoiding the sharp incisors aimed at his shoulder. "Annie, what is it?"

"Na-mi cried in bed!" Penelope-Anne hissed wildly, and her eyes flared with a protective instinct that her young mind couldn't contain.

Then her companion understood, and his horror spoke through his face. He knew his words had hurt both in saying and hearing, but his heart tore into pieces at the poignant disclosure which showed him exactly how pernicious his actions had been. There was so much hate in the old-young eyes as a child tried to accommodate the emotions and concerns that the trapped everlasting soul had conjured. Yet, the pot came off the boil as the assault victim's reaction was read and understood. There was still a mass of feeling inside the small frame and it came out in sobs of prior angst that Naomi's tears had caused. As the tiny body relaxed into him, Richie freed her wrists and wrapped himself around her.

"Oh, honey," he calmed, rocking the trembling form, "I'm sorry. Naomi and I have some grown-up things to work out."

"Stop her cryin'," the child choked into his shoulder.

The Immortal stayed silent, there was no response to such a heartfelt plea.


Noon came and went - there was no sign of the return of the second wanderer. Once she had recovered from the fit of rage, Annie became her once-more-hero's shadow. Naomi not being around, she chose to place her watchful eye on the beloved she could find, being no more than a few inches from his heels at any time. Her face was still grave, no amount of reassurance being enough to soothe her angst completely. The youth had no words for her, everytime he looked into her deep eyes, his normal strength failed him, and eloquence just would not surface. He resisted wording his decision, not only with the toddler, but with everyone else, it was Naomi's first, she would hear him before another soul. No matter how much the concern in the young body screwed up his emotion, he could not break the pact which he had made with himself at the last second of his battle.


The afternoon was warm, the youngsters were spread out, enjoying free- time, and without a doubt, getting into mischief. Richie was playing his role of chaperone as he walked around the buildings, searching out groups and now couples, making sure nothing too off base was happening. Yesterday Kathleen had only had to look out for Luke and Jessie finding a quiet place, today, his job was much more complicated. The aforementioned pair were well in view in the main yard in front of the kitchen window, playing baseball with as many as they could rope in, displaying their innocent side to Agatha, who was baking inside. Yet, oddly enough, neither Randy and Amber, nor Jake and Martha were anywhere to be seen, despite Mary wearing her best friend's jacket in an attempt to confuse, and Jamie doing a passing impression on Randy in baseball cap and glasses. There had been strenuous attempts to enlist both group leaders into the game, but they were not that gullible. The buoyant woman had agreed to join in, but with a wink at her comrade had sent him off prowling the barns for the young sweethearts.

The task caught the mischievous side of the young man, and he had been scanning the area ahead for anything near a bucket of water to cool any ardours he might locate. He was in a good mood, and an `evil' grin played across his baby-face. Almost stalking, a playful hunter in his eyes, the youth headed swiftly round the next corner as he recognised sounds of voices. His air of fun fell away, and alarm daggered through the Immortal as he realised which other pair of faces had been missing from the collection back at the impromptu baseball diamond; Pog stood only a few metres away from him, his attention on Biff - the tomboy was the young man's centre of concern. The skinny creature was not short, but she was dwarfed in size and brilliance by the sword which she held up above her head. The blade glinted in the sun, displaying its razor edge to the ogling eyes of the children, and only the newcomer recognised its power. Richard Ryan flipped out.

"No!" he screamed madly, a pot of righteous anger surging through him as he crossed the gap between the youngsters and himself with speed made of his emotion.

Biff cried out in fear as his omnipotent form descended upon her and ripped the weapon from her trembling hands. She fell away from him, stumbling wildly as she saw the danger in his eyes that the weapon inspired.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" the Immortal demanded at top volume. "Do you know how dangerous this is?"

There was no coherent reply from the girl, only a mew at the instinctive rage she experienced from her superior. Ryan did not see the terror he created, possessed by the disastrous possibilities that had entered his head the moment he set eyes on the scene. In some demented kind of demonstration, the ageless being swung at a nearby fence post, slicing clean through its top. He was seething with emotions he couldn't control as he exploded again, "That could have been your leg, or an arm!"

The girl screamed, falling to her knees, Pog turned and ran, his face white with dread. Richie stared down on the wreck his charge had so quickly become, and realisation of his action dawned. The alarm had led him, and it drained away so quickly it froze him for a few seconds. Guilt replaced his anger as Biff's sobs crawled into his ears; he knew what image he had cast. As slowly as possible, he lowered the rapier to his side and walked over to the terrified girl. She cowered as his free hand reached out to her shoulder, afraid of the rage that had so recently been present. Remorse in his voice, the young man tried to make amends.

"I'm sorry, Biff, I didn't mean to frighten you," he murmured, crouching down into her view and keeping the elegant sword as far behind him as possible. "It's just you frightened me."

The admission stopped the tears, it had been unexpected. The youth's face was open and honest as he tried to explain the storm he had become, "I shouldn't have yelled, but I know how dangerous this sword is. When I saw you holding it out like that, I went into automatic. I'm sorry."

It was then that a crowd of people came charging round the side of the barn, led by Jon. They'd heard the yelling, they'd met Pog in his flight, and their faces showed their concern. The Native American's manner showed a little paranoia as he thought of an Immortal losing it, he calmed amazingly quickly when both perpetrators of the incident looked over to him. Mouths hung open as those who had not seen the weapon laid eyes on the crafted handle and tended blade. Pog hung anxiously behind Jake, still unsure, having so recently witnessed such rage. Yet, Biff saw the reaction the others were having to a sudden stranger once more, and chose to rectify her part in the situation. Shakily, she stood up and held out her hand to her companion; she couldn't find any words, there was still the vagueness of fear in her eye as her mind played back the few seconds of uncontrolled concern, but her meaning was obvious. It was an offer of peace, and the young man took it. Slowly, he stood, his fingers grasped around a trembling hand, and then he turned to Jon.

"Can you put this somewhere safe?" he asked, holding out the rapier to the neutral figure.

"I'll put it in the study," the man responded seriously, aware of the damage limitation that was going on.

"Biff and I are going to sit down and have a talk," was the completion of the dialogue as the young man decided what to do.

The kitchen was a place to get a glass of water for the white girl, and Richie quickly sat her down as they moved out of full view of the gathered company outside. He ran the tap and then offered over the glass; Biff glanced at him, feeling shy and unsure now that they were alone again.

"I'm sorry," she managed in a whisper so faint her lip movements were more intelligible.

"Then that makes two of us," Richie agreed, standing back against the table to give the youngster some room. "I shouldn't have yelled like that, and I shouldn't have left the sword where curious people could find it. When I lost it, I was more angry at myself than you, it was a stupid thing to do."

"That makes two of us," Biff hiccuped an attempt at a laugh of recovery.

"I think that makes quits," the young man smiled back trying to force away the remnants of tension in his body. "I won't lose it again, if you won't go playing with sharp blades."

Gradually, Biff began to ease up, and eventually, Agatha came up with an idea that was meant to patch up any problems left. The impressive woman brought every person on the farm into the kitchen and the dining room, and ordered them all to start helping her with the baking. Cakes, cookies, pies, tarts, anything for which the woman had trays and tins and ingredients, the cook dolled out to her minions for construction. Flour began to fly, dough was mixed, chocolate chips eaten before they reached the bowl, and the heady incident was studiously forgotten.

Richie let out a yelp of pretend consternation as several raisins flew in his direction - the joke had been a bad pun, and he deserved the barrage, but he was damned if he was going to take it lying down.

"The currant of this dialogue is starting to date," he intoned like some kind of bad poet, and more groans came from all over the room.

Agatha turned on him for that one, and grinning all over her face despite the terrible joke, she waved a spoon at him and ordered, "Down to the basement with you, Boy, get me some apples before we decide to use that sword on you."

The young man made a hurt face and Jamie laughed with an `Ah' in his tone.

"And you James," Agatha commanded.

The boy groaned, but stood willingly enough to lead the way to the cellar door. His companion flicked a piece of unnamed dried fruit at his nearest neighbour before turning and heading after the youth. He ducked inside the doorway as several return projectiles headed his way. His quick exit was in perfect time with an entrance; Naomi walked into the bombsight of a kitchen as her loved one disappeared into the fruit cellar.

Richie laughed to himself as he watched Jamie's back and brushed flour off his shirt. He was a mess, due to the fact that he'd been coming up with bad jokes all afternoon; it was a defence mechanism, he knew it, but it was helping to heal the rift that had opened up so suddenly, and he enjoyed creating laughter. There were a lot more puns and one- liners from where the last two had come, and these poor kids hadn't heard many of them yet - it was party time for Richard Ryan, the comedian. The young man ran his fingers through his hair to clear some of the white dust that had settled there, going over some more of his repetoir. His eyes were on his feet as he neared the bottom of the stairs, but as Jamie moved off to find the apples, he looked up after him.

The room was dingy, lit by a bare bulb a few feet away - the walls were earth held back with wood, the air smelt damp. The pain came from his head, Ryan knew it as soon as he felt the nausea, but he couldn't control it. Suddenly, images ran through his mind, memories of a time ten months past when a basement had been the scene of his torture. Hemar's face, twisted and demonic daggered into his perception, a nightmare that cut at the Immortal's soul. The agony, the hate, the self-loathing, the disgust, it all flooded back into his unprepared spirit with the speed of a tidal wave and it shook his foundations as truly as if it had been physical.

There had been no warning, no conscious thought of connection, no hint of anything to warn him about entering another cellar, separate, but too similar to the nightmare of the past. Pictures in his head, ones only seen in dreams that were thankfully half forgotten when he awoke, they all hit the Immortal's unprotected being with the clarity and strength of true recollection. These were distortions, unreality caused by the emotions that mixed with the true events which had passed in the uncertain time in Hemar's power. The walls shivered, the ceiling felt too near; Richard Ryan was not claustrophobic, but there was a heaviness about him as he experienced the destruction of normality. The moment knocked the young man off his mental feet and he lost his bearings on the real world in the mass of cruel imagery. The body close by was not that of a child, it shifted in the sea of despair and formed into the gloating that had been his torturer.

Richie grabbed the pillar beside the stairway, attempting to fight off the abrupt touch of terrifying helplessness, but the world swam with images: the whip, the knife, the cross-bow, brilliant in his troubled recollections, tormenting his sanity. The feelings that ran through him were stifling, also dangerous and his breathing faltered against their pressure; he knew in the back of his troubled mind that Jamie was the presence close by, but still there was a murderous edge to his thoughts as he connected a body with the picture of the German warrior in his mind - the connection was illogical and scared the youth as he tried to force it away. The room itself, through all the mental pictures, was beginning to turn, and, trembling violently, the youth knew that he was going to lose any semblance of control that he still held if he stayed in the focus of his memory any longer. At last, he managed, "I have to leave."

His sentence was so normal, so ordinary, but the way he said it, his tone uncontrolled, rising and falling pitch, wild edged, made his companion turn. Richard Ryan did not hold the human facade, the funny man, the jester, over him now - he was the Immortal, but a broken creature, the warrior touched by claws of sadistic destruction. The danger that was in his manner, in the air around him was turned inwards, protective, but at the same time, gnawing into a damage soul. The agony that crossed the young face threatened to engulf the watcher. Jamie was a statue of horror as a savage gaze met his for an instant, and he felt a vague panic at the intent in those penetrating eyes. Then his comrade spun erratically on his heel and dashed up the stairs, his face a death mask, drained of colour.

The atmosphere upstairs was jovial, most having returned to mixing their own cakes and testing others' mixtures with varying degrees of appreciation. Naomi had gone over to the sink, to help a courageous Indian in the mountain of washing up. The apparition which darted across the room and out of the open door caught everyone's attention, no more so than Agatha and Naomi. There had been no doubt as to the distress on the young features, and it did not take a genius to work out the connections.

"Oh, my God, the cellar," Agatha breathed, glancing at her lodger, "I didn't think."

There was no comprehension from most of the room, only silence as the words floated across to them; they were street kids, they'd seen the look of shock, terror, pain on others faces when life had been rough - a friend abused by a loved one, raped, mugged, traumatised by violence, it was not uncommon, and they all recognised the same innate manner that enfolds a victim. Richard Ryan gained another new perspective in the young eyes.

In a second, Naomi's face had gone from shock, through a strange indecision, to complete concern, and then she too ran for the door after the helpless creature she loved.

Richie was stood on the porch, leaning heavily over the railing, coughing in gulps of air and trying not to be sick. The world was slowing down from the mess of light and colour it had been, but he was still shaking badly, and was not aware of much around him. A hand on his arm caused a violent start and he shied away from the gentle touch, his gaze wild and unsteady as he sought the owner. The young man calmed a little as soon as he recognised his goddess through the smog of his emotions.

"Richie, are you alright?" came the soft voice of loving care.

The shaken man couldn't help himself, he snorted in self-mockery and admitted sharply, "No."

His gaze as he looked out at the distant horizon was scared and angry and showed the shock which the memories had caused the normally self- present Immortal. He was always ready, alert, looking around the next corner, it was the nature of the Everlasting, the consideration that there was another always looking for a Quickening. Naomi had seen the manner before stood on a dark fire-escape, and it was a cold thing to have back. The young man realised the feelings were there as soon as the palm still rested on his arm held tighter and he glanced back at her. There were questions and reassurance in her eyes at the same time, and she murmured again, almost as a plea this time, "Are you okay?"

There wasn't really a rational answer to that question, the unsettled youth was not sure one way or the other as the gentle presence ran through his heart. Instead, he replied with a slightly steadier, surprisingly logical assessment of his condition. His idea of himself formed as he spoke the words, flowing from his mouth in a manner that was barely controlled.

"If you'd asked two days ago," he disclosed with a sad smile in his eyes, "the answer would have been `fine', but this place has a strange affect on all of us. Down there was only the result of the atmosphere here. I can't explain it. I thought I was over this, but down there, everything came back - that bastard, his toys, everything all at once.

God, look at me, I'm shaking, I can't stop."

The Immortal stood up, away from the support, staring down at his hands that were visibly trembling - it was unnerving for someone whose life depended on a steady poise. Yet he was not deserted - as the world spun a last time in vicious disquiet, the hard, unfeeling brace was replaced by another that was far more comfortable; Naomi wrapped herself around his trembling chest, holding him tight, demonstrating her love. Instinct was powerful at that moment, and the youth reached right back without hesitation. The very scent of the beauty beside him helped cool the horror in his mind, and he breathed her in as deeply as he could. It was a day for heady moments, the air was hot and dry, a gentle breeze on occasion to relieve the fire just enough to make life bearable - this was the second intensity in the last hour and Richie's breeze of companionship took away his own flames. He laughed again, but not this time the harsh tone of scorn, but a light, admirable sound which made an observation.

"I had so many words for this," he murmured easily, kissing the top of his darling's head fondly, "but I don't need them, do I?"

Naomi looked up at him, her eyes wide and twinkling. There was so much passion in her gaze that the world went away again, just for a second. Then the woman blinked, knowing full well the affect she was having on her companion. There was a subtle smile on her sensuous lips as she returned, silky smooth, "No."

The movement was so natural, the young man bent his head down and met the soft, sweetness. Everything felt right, and his soul moved as Richard Ryan basked in the wonder of what was to be.


The porch was overlooked completely by the dining room, and no one was overly subtle about their presence in the viewing gallery that the chamber became. Richie's troubled exit had been as much a shock to the community as it had been to him, and the embrace was a welcome lightening rod for the tension that had grown. A lot had happened that day, not all of it a demonstration of healthy thought - the love being displayed was something that made sense and was comfortable. It was not going to be allowed to pass without supportive comment.

A whoop came from several sources inside the house. The couple's heads came up and they glanced over their shoulders in surprise - they had not been aware of the eyes on them, their world only having consisted of immediate things. Naomi's cheeks coloured at the mass of knowing grins, and with a shy smile she buried her head in her companion's chest, much to the enjoyment of the onlookers. The ex-street-punk, more used to situations where he made a fool of himself took the good- natured whistles with an ironic smile.

"At last," Luke called, none of the insinuation in his tone being halted by the glass between them.

"Hay loft's very comfortable!" Randy added, grinning all over his face and his statement being backed up by a giggle from Amber.

Richie raised an eyebrow, but the boy didn't even have the `decency' to look abashed at the implications of his statement - in fact, Kathleen laughed raucously and slapped the child on the back. Richie felt his darling's hold on him tighten a little at the suggestion, but in full view, he wasn't about to respond, except for a discrete, similar return, while being watched. There was a passion in the young bodies, a pique that now met, would not diminish easily, but openly responding to such obvious intimations was not advisable unless one wanted to suffer continuous jibes for the rest of existence. Instead, the young man gave the gathered company a long hard stare and suggested heavily, "Haven't you guys some cakes to be baking?"

The teenagers stayed a long moment, in which Richie had the frustrated thought that they might never go away, but they possessed an amount of politeness, and eventually, accompanied by winks and signs of raucous support, the whole party began to turn back to the activity which had been disturbed minutes earlier. The Immortal watched them move, the seconds dripping away slowly as expectation drew them out. At last, all eyes were, at least, not so obviously on the pair, and then the young man turned his attention back to the delight in his arms. The brush of colour on the young woman's face as it paled was no less an attraction than the all-encompassing smile that touched her lips, or the sparkle in her eyes. They were attuned, one intention, as they whispered like excited school children, "The barn."

Naomi giggled, a very similar sound to that which Amber had made, and she caught her lip in her perfect teeth as the idea suggested things to her. It was she who made the first move from their comfortable spot, pulling her companion into an almost nonchalant walk.

There was so much anticipation in both bodies, a chemistry met, a frustration that was seeping away. The couple walked off around the back of the house in the opposite direction to the barn, both aware that they were still being watched, but once out of sight, the compulsion was too much; the buoyant mood after the angst almost forgotten in its wake was too much to maintain decorum, and laughing together, the dyad took up an easy run to their destination.

The hay loft was accessed by a fixed ladder near the entrance to the stable barn; it became a pleasant intermediate stop before reaching the final goal. Once privacy was achieved, Richie's ardour boiled over, and, with a careful hoist he stopped the elegant body in front of him from climbing the steps to their haven. Naomi laughed as his arm wrapped completely around her slender waist and lifted her off the ascent she had begun, placing her back on the ground. The young woman turned in his loose hold and leant willingly back on the impromptu support as her lover pushed close. Their lips met once more, this time their craving being so much more obvious. The caress held all the dammed passion that had been building over the months of more than physical separation, and the moment felt glorious. The young man tasted his partner with mind and body: she was powerful, a presence in his being, a kindred to be, a Quickening he could touch without the need for a brand of steel, but vulnerable at the same time, untouched, her trembling not all excitement. The gentleness in the open soul became a request for guidance, an admission of inexperience and the ardent youth was more than willing to provide some tuition. He smiled to himself through the kisses as he ran a hand up under the shirt which came easily out of the girl's jeans - there was a jump in his heartbeat as the response of her body pressed further in to his. The vague shiver that the action caused did not go unnoticed, and then both pulses began to race as the proximity was held.

Movement was not thought through, considered, as instinct led the pair. There was plenty of time now, no-one would come near the barn for hours - they were content in just touching, inspiration growing for later. Nails danced up and down his back as Naomi followed her partner's lead and loosened him clothing - he let out a rush of breath as she located just where to touch him to make his spine sing with sensation, and turned his own attentions to nuzzling her neck. The man's bite was light, playful, barely more than a brush of his teeth on soft flesh - he tensed in surprise, his eyes closing with pleasure as the returned gesture on his shoulder was fiercer. His skin tingled as it instantly healed where broken, and the experience in his present company proved itself tantalisingly pleasing.

"Where did you learn that one?" he moaned absently, returning to the caress.

"Agatha and I have talked," came the whisper which played over his ear, and then her teeth nibbled the lobe in the same remarkable fashion.

Richie's pleasure was obvious as he murmured wordlessly into his lover's neck and his clasp on her became more urgent. One hand ran down her spine, underneath her jeans, and his fingers played over the top of her panties as far down as the restrictive cloth would let him go, the other effortlessly unfastened the hooks of the girl's brassiere. Naomi's eyes were closed in passion as she instinctively accommodated the shift in position which he initiated to bring the same hand round to caress her bosom. The girl laid back on the ladder, relaxing a little as she enjoyed his gentle presses on her firm breasts. Yet, she was not idle in her indulgence - swift, almost possessed hands ran up the front of the cotton shirt he wore and pulled open the front, barely avoiding ripping away the buttons which held it. As the garment was released, the young woman gasped in air and, clenching hold of the two sides of the material, pulled herself back close to her paramour, parting the cloth and finding his chest beneath. The Immortal's breath ran fast from his mouth as a damp, intermittent touch of his companion's tongue danced over his skin; he almost forgot to inhale altogether when she nipped at one of his pecs. He laughed lightly and wrapped the girl close to him with both his arms, holding her immobile as her attentions brought ideas to his mind that were not appropriate for the public access route. The young man kissed his darling on the top of her head and whispered, "We best go up the ladder before this goes much farther."

Naomi pushed her face away from the flesh against which she was held, and her lover's hold slackened as she smiled up at him. He moaned once more as her hands ran up his chest, her nails mincing over his perfect skin, teasing most expertly. Then, suddenly, her hands were clasped around the back of his neck and a slender frame jumped onto his. Thighs caught around his hips, sending pleasant signals to his already heated body, and then the young woman was fixed close to him.

"Take me," slipped silkily into his hearing, and the double entendre was fully appreciated.

Naomi was slight, her presence nothing to the toned, athletic form, but a soft purr that came from her and the tingles through his being as she returned to nibble at his shoulder were almost too much to keep the young man on the ladder as he began the ascent.

The loft stretched half the length of the barn, was dim and was filled with large bales of dried grass all the way down, save for a thin corridor down the middle of the roof space - or so it seemed. However, there was a beam of sunlight coming from halfway down the dingy attic and the young couple progressed towards it. There, nestled comfortably between two stacks of bales and lit by a skylight, was a pile of loose hay covered by a blanket. The cloth was not a recent placement, and the implications for Jon and Agatha made the new pair of sweethearts smile at each other.

Naomi stayed wrapped enticingly round her lover as he reached behind and pulled off her plimsolls. After slipping off his own boots, he lowered her carefully onto the blanket and her eyes locked with his. There was passion in her gaze, ardour and anticipation, but also there was a ghost of angst - uncertainty about the meeting of bodies. Richie brushed a lock of his beauty's hair from her face and leant over her on one elbow as she lay into the soft cushioning. Their bodies were entwined, their hearts racing, breath coming fast as the very touch between them became electric, but the more experienced lover paused for a moment to answer the look in his partner's eyes. The young man continued to stroke his goddess's raven head as he murmured, "Are you worried?"

The girl smiled, an almost sad expression as she admitted, "A little, I think."

"If you want to stop...," the youth began, but found a finger on his lips before his sentence was complete.

The loveliness shook her head and bit her lip as her hand then moved behind his head and pulled him down towards her. Her visage lost focus and almost immediately, the Immortal tasted his partner once more. The doubt the edge of her smile had given him dissolved away as the intensity of only moments before returned. Richie kissed hungrily, his fire still growing as he reached for the buttons on the girl's shirt. They moved together again, travelling towards their common goal. Naomi sat up and pushed away her lover's shirt as he in turn slipped off the soft cotton and already released lingerie that covered her torso. They touched close, enjoying the new sensation of being bosom to bosom, using mouths and fingers to fascinate that flesh which they had exposed. Woman gave way to the stronger man as he followed an instinct and pushed her down onto the blanket once more. Naomi sighed exquisitely as her lover grasped her hands and held them away from her body; her breasts rose and fell in an entrancing rhythm as the passion moved from her neck down to those parts of a female that a male finds so attractive. The youth knelt astride his partner's legs, enlivened and encouraged by the catches in her breath each time he ran his teeth and tongue over the base of her bosom. He released her hands; fingers entwined almost viciously in his hair and held his touch into her flesh. Without reservation, the ensnared man let his diva guide his caress wherever she wanted him to go.

Neck, chest, stomach, over and again, Richie kissed and enticed, moving his darling through gentle levels of passion. Eventually, her fingers still curled into his scalp, she was no longer directing the foreplay, but was returning control of their desire to her lover. Her palms slipped unresisting off of his scalp as the young man chose his time to move further into his ardour; the man took hold of the fastenings on his companion's jeans and, still caressing, further and further down her abdomen, began to undo them. Naomi moaned and shifted in pleasant response as he ran his tongue over her belly button and paused a moment there. Every minute return was like ambrosia to the Immortal, and his own actions becoming increasingly poised as his passions rose, he continued on his path. As he revealed her panties, the youth kissed around their edges, over the proud pelvic bones that the brief underwear revealed. Yet, as he ran his teeth sensuously over her hip, the young man discovered that he misjudged his partner's patience. She let out a sound that was half woman, half growl, and sat up, grabbing rough hold of the belt at his own waist. The girl knelt up, helping him to push the clothing from the rest of her body, and moaned uncontrollably as he reached to touch her with the intimacy of a lover. The possessed creature was trembling as she pulled at the confines around her companion, instinctively staying back from the point where her savagery could become adverse to her cause.

The desire between the couple was powerful as their souls spoke to each other. There was no more play, no more waiting, both were alive with the intense strength of their love and it would not wait further for a union. The pair embraced passionately. Richie gasped in his turn as his mistress found his manhood and brought him all the way to readiness. As one they dropped back down into the blanket and woman welcomed man. Naomi tensed a moment as she experienced the unique touch for the first time and her paramour paused for the minute time, allowing her the magic of the encounter. Then they moved together, gently at first, coaxing full arousal, indulging in the closeness, faster therewith, more purposeful, anticipating climax. When it came, two bodies froze in exquisite delight, muscles tensed, flesh glistening with the glorious effort. Lights exploded in the Immortal's head and he travelled thousands of heights of fire in the endless moments they held together. Then it was over. The elation dissipated and the knowledge of spent energy replaced it. There was no hanging onto the pique any longer, and letting out a fulfilled breath, Richie pulled away and rolled over on to the bedding, a contented little smile dancing over features.

A moment later, a naked torso was leant half over him, and a beautiful visage was held a few inches from his, just in focus. Naomi's eyes were glistening and her cheeks were slightly flushed from their union, but most of all there was excitement in her face and a deep, bottomless love. There was nothing that needed to be said, the couple were content to just lay together and stare into each other's eyes.

End Of Part 5