Little Dove

DISCLAIMER (the boring stuff):
Lock-Nah and Ardeth Bey are copyrighted characters of Universal Studios, Stephen Sommers, and/or any of the persons or companies not mentioned but in affiliation with The Mummy and The Mummy Returns, all rights remain with them. Neither I, nor this story, are connected to those holding the copyright to these characters, nor do I received any finical or material gain from the publication of this narrative.

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2: The Wedding Night

This was her first time alone with a man who was not her father, she was both nervous and excited, and her heart pounding furiously against her ribs while her breaths were quick if she did not calm down, she thought, she would surly faint – not the best way to begin ones wedding night. Her dainty hands fidgeted, as she looked shyly at Ardeth, her strong handsome husband as he graciously accepted the congratulations from his uncle and father-in-law. She allowed her eyes to drink him in, tall and slender with skin darkened by the sun’s kisses his hair fell just to his shoulders in fat gentle curls. He was wearing formal robes, of black and ‘Med-jai Blue’ with gloriously intricate silver embroidery running up the front and along the bottom hem and cuffs. His strong tattooed hands quietly closed the door as Jemima wondered what it would feel like to have those hands explore her body. She wondered if his whiskers would tickle her when they kiss. When she thought about his lips kissing her thing tightened below her belly. A most pleasurable warmth began to spread through her as it often did when she thought about him. Ardeth looked at his wife; she gasped quietly at being caught thinking lustful thoughts and quickly averted her eyes, as a bright blush began to creep across her cheeks. Ardeth smiled as he approached her, he loved it when she blushed, for it was to only outward sign that betrayed her thoughts.

“Little Dove.” He soothed, hesitantly cupping her cheek, it was if he were afraid this were a dream that would end when he touched her. She blushed brighter, now she was embarrassed, to blush at the touch of her own husband how shameful. She was absolutely adorable when she blushed; he hooked a finger beneath her chin and gently raised her face to look at him. Her dark eyes wide with apprehension coyly looked up at him; he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and guided her to sit in a small wooden chair…and yes his whiskers did tickle, a little.

Again she fidgeted with her hands as she watched him collect a wash basin, a pitcher of water and a towel, her blush gratefully receding. He took off the formal robe and carefully set it on the small dresser, leaving him in his tunic, pants, sash and dress weaponry, Jemima desperately tried not to blush and succeeded, to a point.

Ardeth was no stranger to women, having a few casual lovers in the past; however, Jemima could not say the same she is pure woman who saved herself for her husband. He knelt before his wife, removed her shoes and tenderly began washing her feet, starting with the left, to help put her at ease with a man touching her.

“Jemima, I was surprised your father selected me.” He admitted glancing at her; he was both pleased and disappointed that she was not blushing. He did so love it when she blushed. She giggled softly, a faint rosy hue brightened her cheeks; Ardeth increased the pressure slightly, apparently his bride was ticklish.

“When it comes to marriage, father listens to his daughters and wife and I had known from the moment I saw you that I wanted to be your wife.” She said, she closed her eyes and moaned softly as he worked the arch of her foot, he looked up at her face and savored her expression. Her lovely eyes closed as she bit her bottom lip to suppress the soft moans, a delightful sigh escaped her lips as he moved his hands to work her ankle.

“Little Dove, your life with me will not be easy.” He confessed, feeling the distant twinges of guilt for the first time. He had only thought of himself when he approached her father, how could he bring his little dove into his dangerous world? But then again the thought of her wed to someone else torn him apart.

“Ardeth, my husband, if I wanted an easy life I would have been wed to Lock-Nah long ago. I want a life with the man I love, I do not care how hard that life may be. I know that being the wife of a Med-jai is not easy; I know there will be times of battle to protect the secrets of old and against raiders. I know that I, like the other wives, may be called upon to help the healers. I know that there are dangers in being your wife, but there is nothing I cannot brave without you.” She was inwardly pleased with his shocked expression, she had known she wanted to be Ardeth’s wife and took every moment she could to familiarize herself with their lives and what she could expect.

“You are amazing.” He said, and then something she said caught his attention. “This was not Lock-Nah’s first time asking for your hand?”

“No…” again she bit her lower lip and closed her eyes as strong hands massaged her left calf, she sighed and continued her thought. “He has asked three other times.”

Ardeth was surprised by Lock-Nah’s persistence, and commented as much as he thought on how this did explain his reaction to the announcement. He dried her left foot and began washing the right; she was visibly beginning to relax, more at ease with his touch.

“To be honest I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to approach my father.” She acknowledged with a small giggle. He recanted his adventure at Hamunaptra, including the point he became aware of his own mortality. She listened with the wide-eyed intensity of a child as he described the battle with the creature’s mummified priests and the miraculous escape from the collapsing city. He dried her foot, moved the wash pan and helped her stand.

“And during that time, do you know what my greatest fear was? Never seeing you again. Habiba, you are my heart, my strength and my soul. I love you more than words can say.” He confided, again gently touching her face a moment before removing the hijab she wore, setting it in the chair she was just sitting in; with it gone he could see the glorious raven locks she had been blessed with. He ran his hand through her waist long hair, allowing it to cascade over her shoulders. He removed his sash with dress weaponry and tunic and carefully placed it on the dresser.

Upon seeing her husband naked from the waist up a bright red blush dominated her lovely features, mortified by her blushing she threw her hands over her face, Ardeth chuckled and gently took her hands and kissed them.

“You are so beautiful when you blush.” He soothed, which made her blush brighter. He released her hands and was beyond words when she hesitantly touched his bare skin. With gentle fingertips she traced one of the tattoos that decorated his right bicep, but of all the places he wanted to feel her touch, his arms were not high on that list. Warily her finger move to his chest and ran the length of a 3 inch scar running parallel to his right collar bone. It was a great act of willpower on his part to allow her explore him with reaching out and grabbing her, he did not want to frighten or hurt her. Fingertips, thankfully, turned into hands which ran along toned muscled of his side and abdomen then journeying back up to rest on his shoulders. She rose to her toes and leaned forward just enough to timidly place her lips to his. She deepened the kiss, which pleased Ardeth to no end; however, he did have to push back just a touch so that her teeth were not against his. She moaned softly as her tongue mimicked his, her hands slowly moving from his chest to wrap about his neck. His response was to wrap his powerful arms about her small frame and hold her closer. His erection strained against the confines of his pants as he gently ground his hips into hers, pulling a small mewling sound from her throat as her eyes widened in surprise a moment before falling back into the glorious kiss.

A want began to grow within her and spread like fire as her skin suddenly burned with the need to feel his skin. Her dainty hands slid down his chest and abdomen and then smoothed their way along his lean sides and up his back, pulling him closer as if proximity would cure this foreign burning hunger threatening to consume her. Her fingers found two more scars on his back, one small, just the right of the small of his back, the second longer and thicker which ran diagonally from his left shoulder blade to his spine. Tenderly her grabbed her wrist and moved her hand away from the smaller scar, she did not question this, she was too enraptured with the overwhelming new sensations she was experiencing.

“Jemima….” He breathed, breaking the kiss. “Oh, my Little Dove; you do not know how long I have wanted this.” His voice had deepened and was thick from want.

“My husband, I must confessed I am …nervous.” Again that cursed blush began to spread across her cheeks.

He smiled gently and tenderly caressed her cheek. “No fear, Habiba, no fear.” He soothed, slowly helping her undress, one layer at a time, kissing and caressing her between each layer, allowing her time to grow accustomed to his touch. Much to his pleasure, the more he took off, the quicker she wanted more off. Her fiery hunger had consumed her and was spilling over into him. Their kisses becoming more intense, more passionate; she had quickly mastered the art of kissing.

Her hands were now freely exploring his torso and back, except for the small scar on his back. Slowly, almost reluctantly, her hands made their way across his chest and down his belly, stopping at the hem of his pants, her dark eyes rolled up to meet his, a hungry curiosity look captivated him.

“May I…may I touch it?” she quietly asked. Ardeth tried not to chuckle and failed, his bride blushed even brighter.

“You may touch any part of me you wish.” He answered, relishing the bright blush that was now creeping down her cheeks and neck.

Rather bravely, she thought, through his pants she gripped that part of him that made him a man. Her eyes wide she looked up at him, unable to stop the question that spilled from her lips.

“Will it fit?” She looked so uncertain. Again Ardeth chuckled, and his laughter was defiantly all male. “I promise you, Little Dove, it will fit.” He assured, kissing her and guiding her towards the bed; the last of their clothing falling away.

She touched him again, this time with out the fabric in the way, it was hard and warm in her hands. The skin was so soft she could not resist running her hands along its wide length. A deep groan came from Ardeth as he passionately captured her lips with his, fueling the unknown fire that burned within her. She moved her hands to his back, pulling him closer again, as it to meld with him. The burning intensity between her legs increased with every kiss and every touch, it was a hunger she knew not how to sate.

“Please, Ardeth. Please” She said certain that Ardeth would know how to satisfy this nameless want that was consuming her, threatening to drive her mad.

He moved her legs a little farther apart and positioned himself just at her opening, she gasped at the unknown sensation.

“Hold me, Habiba.” He whispered into her ear, without question her arms encircled him he gently began pushing himself in, slowly allowing her time to adjust to the new sensation before penetrating her further.

She gasped at the feeling of something so alien filling her, but instead of satisfying her need it only made that much more intense. She writhed and moaned beneath him, trying to take in more. Ardeth grabbed her hips and held them steady as he pushed in that last bit, breaking through the last barrier. She cried out sharply, her nails dug deep into his back, drawing blood. He hissed at the sensation, focusing on the pleasurable pain to fight back his carnal desires.

More than anything he wanted to thrust into her over and over again, but he would not do that. He feared he would hurt her, she was tighter than any woman he’d ever met, he groaned gutturally as her nails tore into his back.

“Relax.” He soothed. “Relax.” He repeated, she too ka couple of breaths a managed to relax as much as was possible under the circumstances. Despite his grip she continued to writhe and squirm, her hips thrusting up slightly.

“Jemima…” he groaned, uncertain how much longer he would hold back the all consuming passion.

“Move, please move.” She begged. Again he moved her legs apart; releasing her hips he moved slowly at first. Cautious movements in and out, her voice was music to him, composed of wordless primitive sounds and exquisite gasps. As his tempo increased so did her song, her voice only slightly louder, but her wordless noises gave way to panting pleas as her nails continues to score his back. His name became her mantra as she spiraled closer to her climax, her lithe form moving in time with him, writhing and bucking, muscles tightened, she held him tighter, closer until it became too much. A silent cry trapped in her throat, her body convulsed. Inner muscles also contracted and relaxed about him, pulling him orgasm with her. He cried out her name before collapsing.

“Oh my Little Dove.” He breathless whispered, lifting up just enough so that he was crushing her. “You are most skilled.” His eyes were heavy with sleep but alert enough to see the bright flush, which had nothing to do with the after glow, creep across her cheeks. He kissed her tenderly and rolled off her, lying beside her.

“Husband?” she coyly asked her blush now brighter than the full moon outside. She propped herself up to look down upon her husband, his curls a splash of dark color against the pale pillow and his dark skin glistened with sweat.

“Yes, Habiba?” he acknowledged, looking upon her lovely face, cupping her cheek in his hand. Words could not express how beautiful she was, especially when her cheeks were flushed red as they were now.

“Can…can we do it again?” she quietly asked.

“We can do it as many times as you would like.” He answered with a slight chuckle.

“Promise?” she asked, sleep beginning to creep into her voice.

“I promise. Just give me a few moments to rest.” He requested, feeling her snuggle close to him, resting her head on his chest, he wrapped his arms about as though he feared the morning would prove this all to be a dream. Outside the sounds of a most joyous celebration echoed in the desert night as sleep gently took the newly weds in its tender embrace.


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Habiba - Beloved, said to a woman