You offer yourself, but...

"Russ," You gasp in the moment when your tongues aren't twisting together. "It's too hard, mmm, being a virgin, ahh, around you..." You look him in the eye and paint the lust on your face to convey your meaning as clearly as possible without actually telling him to fuck you right here and now. You mouth hangs open in a silent moan, tongue darting out from O-shaped lips to tease his.

He loses himself in your gaze and then falls into your embrace again, backing your body up against the wall. One of his hands reaches beneath your leather skirt to sample your pristine pussy. You raise your leg and hook it around his waist to grant him easier access. When he tugs your lacey panties to the side, you can feel the cool air of the mineshaft on your moist petals. You groan deeply into his mouth and grind your hips against his fingers when they stroke the tender flesh, but the swordsman hesitates as your nether lips part.

"You're a rare woman, Sabine, truly a reflection of your goddess. I couldn't pluck her most precious flower in such a place..." He tries to pull away from you, but you hold fast.

"Where else would you have me? We were lucky to survive a horde of those things... I don't want one of us to die having never known your touch."

Russ presses his body against you - it's such a naive argument, but so earnest that it tempts him despite his experience. "That's the rush of victory, Sabine. Your feelings may or may not be true deep down, but your body is confused. You can't make this decision right now, and I won't let you." He tries to pull his hand away from your quim, but you reach down and hold it there.

"I am aware of what my body wants, has wanted since I first saw you. It is not for you to decide whether or not I break my vow, but I choose to do so with you because I,"

He puts a finger to your lips, silencing you. "You should not say things you may come to regret."

You level your gaze with his. "And neither should you."

Seconds pass before you slowly begin to rock your hips again. He cups your sex in his hand, his fingertips brushing against your clit and eliciting quiet squeaks of pleasure. As you settle into a rhythm, your hand that had been covering his moves to cup his own crotch. You gasp at the bulge you find there and begin to stroke your fingers along the length of it.

In your haste to give up your virginity, you fumble with his trousers. Russ doesn't help you, but that doesn't matter - you're able to tug crudely at the pants until they're low enough around his hips for his cock and bollocks to spring free. His shaft pokes against you and your body shivers in delight at this first naked contact. You want it closer - you want it inside. Russ is being strangely uncooperative, reluctantly complicit. His tongue still dances with yours, his fingers still play with your petals, but he isn't grabbing you and making you a woman...

You wrap your other leg around him and cradle his rod in the cleft of your womanhood. "Fuck me, Russ," "Take me," "I'm ready," - the litanies of lust that repeat in your head but lack the courage to voice. Your mind peppers the pleas with "goddess", to which you feel a distinct sense of disappointment and an increasing strain on your connection to the Burning Rose. It doesn't matter. None of it. You'll be giving up your virginity now, damn Russ and the Burning Rose and yourself right along, and you'll do it if you have to impale yourself on his dick.