His stomach muscles tensed when she traced his scars.  Something silver - or worse than silver - made the wounds.  Some of the scars were discolored in a way that suggested that the wounds had been badly irradiated, some foul mutant from one of the toxic pits of their world that spawned horror after horror.  Then she put her had back on the thick hardness of his sex, and he tensed in a different way, his hands running up and down her the muscles of her thighs.  He looked at her heavy, though, splayed out in front of him, with a lust most sincere.  He let her take her time, waited for the proper moment....<br/><br/>He slipped between her legs as she pulled him close, and he kissed her, deep, hard, pressing her head against the cot.  The blankets were old and a little rough, but clean - the whole place was neat, only a hint of concrete must in the air - under his knees.  He put one hand on her hip, the other on one of her breasts.  His rough palm scraped across her nipple as he rolled his hips towards her so she could feel the shaft of his cock pressing against the apex of her legs, so she would know how hard she'd made him, how ready he was to make love - not fuck, make love - to her.<br/><br/>He cupped her cheek in his hand, looked into her eyes, almost nose to nose.  He whispered for her ears alone, "I can make those decisions on my own, Vara.  I tell you this, if there's any goddesses in this world, I'm with her, now.  I would make your body my altar, your mouth my chalice, your sex my wine."<br/><br/>Then he shifted his hips so the tip of his cock pressed against the outer lips of her sex.  He shifted, again, so the thick head parted her lower lips, then slid up to rub against her clit.  Then another shift and he was almost inside of her.  His eyes grew darker, but he also wore a smile.