<div class="floatright"> (http://cimarron.wdfiles.com/local--files/ella/Trist.jpg) </div><br/><strong>► Triste</strong><br/><br/>Triste allowed Chantal’s words of caution to pass through her lips unabated, knowing what she meant, but having a very different perspective on the concept of mortality.<br/><br/>“As you wish, so I shall be, Chantal, a sentiment that I offer rarely, quite rarely,” he replied, and continued to revel in and savor the artful manner in which Chantal could make the simple removal of a boot into an experience that was far beyond the ken of a normal human to truly appreciate.<br/><br/>When she moved behind him and lifted his hair away from the target of her succulent lips, Triste groaned lightly, though the feeling of her kisses, of her teeth, making their presence known and their more rapacious attentions deeply desire, causing him to slip into a bit of a trance.<br/><br/>“You enchant me, my Lady, with each word and touch, by what you give and even moreso, by the promises made of so much more each time your body blesses mine with its elegant warmth…mmm…passions burn slow and intense within you, Chantal, they are controlled for now, but when the inferno is set fully ablaze, I will immerse myself in your glorious and beautiful flames,” his voice intoned as she continued her kisses and completed the task of unbuttoning and uprooting his shirt.<br/><br/>As her nails slid teasingly, tantalizingly across his skin, Triste pivoted in his seat to face her at an angle.  His skin was smooth, remarkably so, along a very long and lean torso.  His piercing and the runes that were inked into his skin all had meanings, though many of those meanings had altered in form and thought over the years.<br/><br/>Taking her hand, he guided it to the one place that was not smooth, to the nearly two inch diagonal scar, raised in a perfectly straight line, the slightly pinkish flesh had healed, but the scar of the wound remained where it had been inflicted, just above where his heart beat, rapidly and powerfully at the sight, touch and scent of Chantal.<br/><br/>“You spoke of life and death, and true that neither is a subject to be trifled with, Milady, but a long life is worth little, in many ways the longer one lives, the less life is appreciated and desired.  But you…Chantal, you are an exception, an extraordinary exception to the banality of a life lived beyond its intended fate.  For too long I have wished for time to end, for immortality to prove itself a lie…” he paused and pulled her closer, into his arms as his own large, smooth hands caressed her soft and sensitive back and her breasts pressed into the strong, sinewy muscles of his own chest,<br/><br/>“…you make the moments by which one measures time and truly, a life, into precious treasures.  I gifted you with what many would call a treasure of jewels, but without the luster of the woman in my arms at this moment, they would be as dead and cold and lifeless as fate long ago meant for me to be.”<br/><br/>His lips pressed against hers after staring into her eyes for a several long moments, the kiss deep and delicious, as his hands roamed from her well defined shoulders to the sumptuous curves of her rear, his body hard as a rock, yet melting into hers all the same.