Wedding Night

CODE: M (set in the Manitou Island storyline)

TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): NA

PAIRING: Francois LaCroix/Crooked Creek (M/F)

EXPLANATION: This is another very new scene, which I thought up only a few months ago, I believe. I discovered that my Manitou Island character Francois LaCroix had actually had a family long ago! Well, why not give him another one? Enter Crooked Creek, a Manitou Island native...I don't think I need to explain much more of the story, as it's told right here. I was also looking at the theme of a partner who is not of the ideal weight, as Crooked Creek is--even though she was not my first overweight character (that would probably be Rithukh'het, of the Ameni Chronicles), she is ONE of the first. (There is a second in-progress scene with these two.) One note--"Wemitigoji" now replaces the earlier word "Frenchman," and basically means a French-Canadian--"one who paddles a canoe."

DISCLAIMERS: I think I was kind of off on my description of Crooked Creek's clothing, but eh.

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Wedding Night

Crooked Creek let her eyes go shut as pleasure surged through her body. The Wemitigoji had started out by tenderly kissing her; now, he sucked lightly at her lips, his hands running down her and then lowering her to the bed. She shivered in delight; this was what she had hoped for on first coming to see him several months ago, though she hadn't expected it. She was most certainly not the most beautiful woman from her tribe, being shorter and rounder than most of the others, her arms and legs and behind plumper than many men liked; already most of her friends had been selected for marriage, or had even selected men of their own, but not she. She was unimportant, with no esteemed family or relatives; though she could cook and clean passing well, these were things that most women could do already, and so she was in no great demand. She sensed the disappointment that her father felt, but could say and do nothing, merely watch with growing sadness as her friends moved to live with their new husbands, became pregnant, raised families. She would most likely never be among them.

She had grown so desperate that when one day one of her friends had half-jokingly suggested that she go to visit the trapper living in the woods, she had taken the suggestion to heart, and set out the very next day. Her friends had tried to talk her out of it--what did she think she was doing, seeking out a white man for a husband?--but she would hear none of it. If she couldn't find a husband among her own people, perhaps it was time to look elsewhere. She didn't ask for much, merely for someone to support her. She hoped that he would not ask for much, either.

And so she had shown up at his cabin one morning while he was outside chopping wood, carrying her own cooking pots and cleaning items with her. He'd paused and stood up to watch her with some curiosity (and most likely more than a little puzzlement) as she entered his cabin and set about putting up the pots and starting a meal. While it cooked, she went about the cabin, cleaning and sorting as best as she could, though there was little to be done; he wasn't a messy person, like some of the other whites she'd seen. The whole time he stood outside and watched with a mildly confused look, before finally turning back to his chopping. Her hands shook the entire time she tended to the meal, though she hid this from him.

When noon came, she set out what she'd cooked, and he came into the cabin, having deposited the wood out back. He'd accepted what she'd offered him, and sat eating and watching while she tended to his clothes. They hadn't said a word to each other. When they'd both finished eating, she'd cleaned the dishes, picked up her items, and departed, still without a word. She'd done the same thing the next day, and the next.

She'd heard that he knew of her people's customs, so he must know what she was attempting. Still, she continued to visit him, cook his meals, tend to his clothing, see to his house. He seemed a bit out of sorts with her attentions, as he'd been self-reliant before; yet he didn't protest or tell her to leave. Eventually, they even began sharing a few words as they ate, to the point where he could tell her a joke that would make her laugh, albeit shyly, behind her hand. And she began to regret leaving the place every day. He smiled at her kindly whenever she appeared and whenever she left, and it didn't take too long before that mere look caused her heart to speed up, just a little bit. Often she found herself nearly running home, so he wouldn't be able to see the color rising in her face.

She began sitting a little bit closer to him whenever she visited, hoping that she wasn't being too obvious; once in a while he would even touch her hand, causing a fluttering feeling to arise inside her. Certainly, she'd first come to his house simply in the hopes that a marriage could be arranged; but now she was feeling something else. Was she truly warming to him? If so, she wasn't certain what to think. He was friendly, but he hadn't shown many signs of warming to her. She had no way to tell if he was even interested in marriage or not. She'd heard that he'd had a family once before, murdered by the enemy tribe. Why would he want another wife, especially one such as herself?

That had all changed when he'd kissed her. It had been about a week or so ago, just as she was leaving; at the door she had turned to smile at him, as she'd grown accustomed to doing, and just as she had, he'd leaned down and kissed her lightly upon the mouth. She'd felt her face burn hot, and had had to flee before he could see her reaction. She hoped that he hadn't taken her haste as a bad sign; when she'd returned to her camp the color in her face must have been evident, as her friends had all pried her to find out what had gotten her blushing so badly, but she wouldn't say. They'd laughed and ribbed at her in a joking manner, but it didn't even bother her. He had kissed her. He had kissed her! He would never have done that if he hadn't felt the same way that she did!

She'd returned the next day in some trepidation, fearing that he might have changed his mind; but he was as kindly as ever, and kissed her again when she left. She didn't run away so quickly this time, and even stood still to receive it, a tingle running down her spine. She wished that it could have lasted longer, even.

The kiss did grow longer, as the days passed by; until they would stand in his doorway with their mouths meeting, his hand gently cupping her face. She longed to touch him back, but didn't dare. The mere fact that he found her attractive enough to kiss sent a thrill through her. She'd never felt this way before, but she liked it, very much. Every day, she hoped that he would go just a little bit further, though she wasn't sure how far she would like him to go. Until today. Today she would find out.

She had taken to staying longer at his cabin, into the evenings, the two of them even sitting before the fire and sharing dinner together. The nights were growing longer and colder, and this day she'd wrapped herself tightly in thick furs to keep herself warm on the way there and especially on the way back. She enjoyed their dinner, and even offered a little bit of conversation herself, but not much; she didn't wish to bore him. When it had finally grown dark outside she'd risen and wrapped herself in her furs somewhat dejectedly, staring longingly at the fire, not wishing to leave just yet. He seemed to have noticed her expression, as he'd accompanied her to the door with his hand upon her back; they'd kissed each other as always, but she didn't pull away when she was accustomed to. Instead they stood and lingered, the door cracked open with the wind whistling outside; she'd felt her body growing warm despite the cold seeping in, and had leaned toward him just slightly, accepting his kiss with a hunger as if she had never eaten anything at all.

He'd touched her face, and she'd sucked in a shuddery breath. The next thing that she knew, he reached out to shut the door, and she felt a mild bit of confusion, before he slipped his hands into the folds of her furs, slowly sliding them off her shoulders. They fell to the floor and she shivered; he'd stepped toward her then, and wrapped his arms around her, giving her all the warmth she'd ever needed. She felt the heat course up through her, and pressed to him, eagerly accepting whatever he should decide to give; and with this he had picked her up in his arms and carried her, carefully settling her upon the bed. Crooked Creek trembled in excitement. It was truly going to happen! Tonight!

His breath became heavier as he kissed her, his rough hands caressing her face and running down her arms. She still wore her thick doeskin dress and coverings; her body stiffened when he slipped his hand beneath her top, going up her side and to her back. Her trembling increased and she had to gasp when his kiss moved to her neck. She'd never felt something like that before! It was all so confusing, and yet so pleasurable--she couldn't resist or complain. Instead she moaned softly, touching his arm; even as she did so his fingers were working at the fastenings on her clothes, and she shook harder, awaiting their removal. Just as he had with her furs, he slowly pulled her shirt off from her shoulders; then loosened and slid down her dress; then ran his hand over her thigh. She shook and breathed heavily. Her ears burned; though she longed so badly to feel him, still she had never been with anyone before, and so felt a mild surge of embarrassment, especially considering her shape. She knew that she was not beautiful.

He didn't seem to notice, or care. His lips sucked and gently bit at hers. He now began undoing his own clothing, and she shivered delightedly. He slipped off his jacket and shirt, his pants, his underclothes, so only his barest undergarments remained. And then they went as well. She opened her eyes to look at him. His body was lean but well muscled, the body of one used to the woods, used to caring for himself; he wasn't hairy like a few of the whites she had seen in the summer, but he was smooth as her people were. She could just barely see the growing length between his legs, and looked away from it. She trembled anew when he ran his hand up and down her thigh, and started at last to undo her final garments. She lay still and waited for him to remove them...first, he removed the cloth covering over her hips, and she crossed her legs, the heat rising in her face, but he did not touch her there; then, slowly, he removed the slight top that she still wore, to bare her breasts. She nearly covered them up. They were large things, full and round like the rest of her; many times in her youth the young braves had hooted and sneered at her because of her buxom chest, and she'd wondered why the rest of her couldn't have been fit to match. He stopped her before she could cover them though. He leaned down and closed his lips around her left nipple, causing her to arch slowly and moan. She had heard of this being done, before, but never had she dreamed that someone would do it to her!

She gasped again on feeling another strange sensation, before realizing what it was. He had slipped his hand between her legs, and slid two fingers past her trembling folds, gently pressing inside her. She whimpered and trembled. He prodded carefully for a moment more before withdrawing, and she let out her breath, sinking. He kissed her again, and his other hand slid beneath her shoulders to hold her to him. She finally wrapped her arms about him, their kiss growing deeper.

His fingers played over her mound, lightly tangling in the curly hair. He stroked the skin there and her whimpering grew. She felt wet.

He nibbled at her ear, then moved his kiss down her neck, to her chin. "You are ready, ma chère?" he whispered huskily. Crooked Creek nodded, her eyes closed and her breath coming fast. One rough palm caressed her breast, and she shivered and sighed. His lips moved over her cheek, to her forehead.

"It will hurt, just a little bit, at first."

Crooked Creek sucked in a breath and parted her legs. He ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh, causing her to whimper aloud. His touches were such that she didn't even notice as he came over her, moving himself into position to enter, not until he slid both hands down to cup her buttocks and spread her further. She bit her lip and awaited him, looking up into his face. He came down and forward and his body met hers and he slowly pressed his way inside, a thick hot throbbing pushing into her so she tightened and bit off a gasp, breaking through her resistance and causing her to cry out as her blood flowed. He let out his breath; she saw the look on his face, his own eyes shut and his lips parted as he panted heavily, a look of relief; and she shivered in joy to learn that she had pleased him.

Taking a breath, he moved his hands up to her hips, still clutching into her skin; he looped his ankles about hers and she smiled and slid her legs up his own to clasp them at his sides. He dropped his head and began to push, slowly and deeply. Crooked Creek shut her eyes again and moaned softly as he rubbed against her most sensitive spot, his thick breathing sending delight coursing through her. It wasn't too long before their skin grew slick from the exertion, and he glistened above her in the dying firelight as they made love for the first time. Every so often he leaned down to kiss her again, and she returned each gesture, stroking his arms and back, running her hands over his buttocks as he pushed, sliding her legs up and down his own. It felt so good, she never wanted it to end.

She whined softly, and was glad to feel his hands move up her body again. He cupped and squeezed her breasts, relieving the ache that she felt there; he stroked her as she stroked him, lightly tickling her thigh, and urged his hips forward deeper so he rubbed against her tender spot even more. She arched and squealed and kissed him back, and their mouths devoured each other. She clawed at him hungrily, and relished the responding grunt that he let out, his hands feeling all along her skin. He clutched her and pushed heavily, their weight shaking the bed. Crooked Creek cried out loud.

She did not know how long they continued. It felt like forever, and yet not long enough. Not nearly long enough. When he finally came with a husky groan, she moaned along with it, despairing that it should have to end. But end it must, she knew that...her body ached and tingled all over when they were done, and she sighed in contentment.

But they were not done...not yet...he kissed her anew, and she responded happily, embracing him. This time his kiss, his touch, were more demanding, hungrier, more feral, and she relished every bit of it. She giggled when his kiss moved down her chest, to her belly, and up again...she squealed in delight when they both decided, without words, to make love yet again. Crooked Creek shut her eyes and rocked quickly with his powerful motions. She wondered what her friends would think if they saw them now, kneeling upon the bed, she on all fours with him grasping her hips and plunging into her like a buck taking his doe. They would be jealous; she knew that they would. He was a good provider, and for now at least, he'd chosen her. She didn't have to fear being rejected again. His strong steady thrusts, the deep cry that he let out as he mounted her repeatedly, were proof enough. Their skin slapped quietly against each other in the dimness, copper against white; Crooked Creek knelt and submitted to her new husband's powerful climax with desire and satisfaction in her heart, as she knew that this was their true wedding night.

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This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)

I am not looking for critique on grammar, spelling, style, sentence structure, flow, or the mechanics of writing. What I AM interested in is commentary on such things as characterization, plot, symbolism, theme, etc.--the deeper aspects of the story. I like to know if a scene is believable, if the characters are interesting, what you thought of how they interacted, if the writing evoked any emotions, things such as that.

Feel free to criticize, but just keep in mind that I'm working on more important projects and shared this just for fun and/or to illustrate character interactions, so I don't plan to revise it any time soon. Comments on the characters, theme, etc. are more than welcome.