03-14-2011, 10:10 PM
Her voice was sounded like pins and needles. It was more than evident that she was furious with his lackluster performance. He considered telling her that she, too, had ruined his plans, but decided against it.
Eyes returning to their typical stern, yet soft look, Berk cowered down some. Hand moving behind his head, a little sheepish sigh came next.
"The name's Berk. And, from the sound of it, you're a survivor."
His eyes traced her silhouette several times. Each time he did it, a vision began to get clearer.
"You're... Amaki?" Looking over his shoulder, he saw the ghosts behind him nod. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait!" Backing up some, he shook his head. "Stop following me! I told you, I'm not who you think I am!"
Whirling around, Berk grabbed his weapon and pointed an arrow at what would appear to be absolutely nothing.
"Ha! Not so tough n... hey! Let go! Give me my arrow ba.... ahhhhh!"
Arms flailing, Berk scooted around behind Amaki. Peering up from her feet, he watched as the ghosts faded. A sigh followed. Lifting his head, Berk felt the space between his location get narrower and narrower. Looking up, Berk's eyes widened as a pool of sweat formed at his forehead.
If there were ever a man to get himself into the most awkward of places, it would be Berk. Nose just inches below Amaki's crouch, ears pinned to her inner thigh, and eyes looking directly up her attire, Berk's face couldn't help but flush.
With a quick (unexpected) tuck of the chin, he was able to make his move. Shoulders plunging into the back-side of her knees, Berk was knocked Amaki off her feet and into her chest. As her midriff collided with his scurrying body, the dark haired male could feel his masculine desire for something more sexual kick in. For Berk, it had been a while since he last addressed his "needs." Eyes rolling to the back of his head, body twisting, and sexual fantasies running a muck in his head, he found himself fighting the scene too much. Rather than trying to wigging his way from this, he decided to close his eyes and take in a deep breath.
Opening one eye slowly, Berk prepared himself to take in the final scene. Sure enough, the roles were reserved. Rather than looking at her undies, Berk found the woman's chin resting on his belt buckle, her hands just missing his "vital" organs. Her legs were sprawled across his and the swords she once had were crossed somewhat neatly beside his head. Her mess of blue hair was veiling his chest.
Attempting to quiet his racing heart (and to hint at any other desire to hook up with the woman), Berk cleared his throat.
"Heh, I... I'll... I'll let you get u... us outta this m-m-mess." Wincing, he feared for the worst. She would either nail in or kill him. Either option seemed to suck. Although, in the back of his mind, he preferred the idea of death, as it wouldn't straight up mean she "rejected" him.
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