by niennaainur

Story Notes


Pairing: original non-canon characters

Rating: There is aruna so don’t let your Gran read it…unless she’s cool

Summary: A har is lost at sea…

Disclaimer: All the pretty Wraeththu, as well as the world they live in, were created by, and belong to, Storm Constantine, who (bless her!) is gracious enough to allow fans like me to take them out and play with them occasionally. No copyright infringement, or disrespect, is intended.

Warning: ummmm…. can’t think of one

Beta read by: bigunen and other mistakes are mine.


The ship pitched suddenly and I was thrown against the passageway wall. I steadied myself and sent yet another plea to the dehar. I am a wanderer, a bit of an adventurer used to throwing caution to the wind, but this was more than even I’d bargained for.

I’d needed the money and had been itching to get moving again. I’d met a captain, who’d offered me a one trip deal; it had seemed ideal at the time. By the time we’d been at sea a couple of weeks and had passed through several ports, it was quite obvious that I’d made a huge mistake. The captain was not only vindictive and cruel, he was insane, and his crew hated him. I couldn’t understand why they stayed. I had so far escaped his “attentions” as he seemed to have more than enough vendettas on the go to keep him busy. The next port would end my contract with this ship and this captain. Provided we made it there.

We should have tarried awhile in our last port and let this storm pass, but the captain had insisted that we sail; “we’ll let the storm drive us farther north” he’d said. And drive us it did, but eventually it caught up with us and as the seas had begun to churn and the skies had darkened, the captain had stood on the bridge with a wild gleam in his eyes and a maniacal grin. One day we’d been shadowed by a great white shark and the crew had become uneasy; ‘an omen’ they’d murmured. That had been two days go. The waves had become as large as buildings, towering over the ship, tossing it around like a leaf. Giant waves crashed down on the deck. Nohar had slept, many were ill.

I fought my way to the hatch, and looked out into the dark, across the slick rolling deck. A lone har worked to tighten the netting which secured part of our cargo. I saw a wave surge across the deck knocking him off his feet and washing him against the portside railing. Without thinking I darted forward intent on hauling him to safety. The wave that hit me was heavy. The weight of it knocked me to the deck, and I felt like I was being crushed before I felt the cold waters lift me and sweep me into the seas.

I struggled against the water for what seemed like ages. When I finally broke the surface, gasping for air, my ship was nowhere in sight. I was surrounded on all sides by darkness and towering waves the size of mountains.

The hope that the ship would try to find me died quickly; I doubted they’d even notice I was missing for a long while. The struggle against the waves was exhausting. I was carried up to the top of the massive waves and then thrown down from great heights. The cold dark waters offered no peace and no comforts. As the night wore on all hope faded. I began to wonder about drowning, and whether the great white sharks fed in seas this rough. My limbs became numb and as total exhaustion set in I alternated between blackness and hallucinations; seeing land, sunshine, friends, and feeling warmth. As the night wore on I felt numb and the blackness came more frequently.

Pain exploded in my body as I felt myself being slammed into something hard. I could see nothing, the sea just an inkier shade darker than the air above. A second hard slam sent the world swirling into blackness.

I heard voices. They seemed far away and I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I opened my eyes but all I could see were the inky swells against the darkness of the sky. Panic rose, I struggled to make it towards the voices… Help me!

I was being held down. A light and a face appeared. It was an odd face, strangely distorted. The face came close to mine and barked something urgent sounding. The blackness began to return, and as it swallowed the face and the light I realized that the face was not distorted…it was human…. an old man with a beard.

I was floating, neither cold nor warm. There were no sensations. I was looking down on a room. In this room was a circle of hara seated around a circle of small burning braziers. One of the hara was beating on a drum; a slow rhythmic beat like the pulse of a heart. In the center of the circle on a low pallet lay a har. He was naked. He was still, his blond hair fanned out around him. I looked at him for a moment. He was me. I observed myself with detachment, wondering vaguely if this was a dream; I didn’t really care either way. The hara in the circle were chanting now and I was beginning to feel the beat of the drum pulsing in my ears.

Out of the shadows around this circle a har appeared, he had a flattish face and short spiky black hair. He was shirtless and he carried a small jar. He approached the circle and made a small reverence. Entering the circle, he knelt beside my body. He spread my legs slightly, opened the jar, and with his fingers scooped some kind of cream out of the jar. He applied the cream to my soume-lam; his fingers entering me gently applying the cream evenly. I watched with dispassionate interest as he picked up the jar again and took another scoop of cream. As I floated above this scene, I began to feel a slight warmth between my legs. The warmth was localized, it did not spread, but it joined the drumbeat’s pulse as my only tangible sensations. The short haired har appeared to finish, and joined the other chanting hara in the circle.

A har seated in the circle stood up. He was beautiful; he had a long cord of black hair that fell past his waist, high cheek bones and a beautifully shaped mouth. He wore a loosely wrapped garment which he let fall. Underneath it he was naked, his ouana-lim fully erect. He stood at the foot of the pallet and raised his hands and his gaze towards the ceiling. His lips moved but try as I might I couldn’t hear his voice. He knelt between my legs. Up until that point I had been watching this scene with the disassociated calm of an uninvolved observer, but as he positioned himself over my prone body it dawned on me that he was about to perform a type Grissecon with me, or rather with my body.

As I watched his first thrust into me, I felt a jolt as if I had lost my balance and had narrowly escaped falling. At his next thrust the jolt felt stronger and I was shaken out of my complacency as disaffected observer; I was afraid. The next jolt tumbled me from my floating vantage; I fell into the darkness.

In the darkness I struggled for a time, lost. Gradually I became aware of another presence. Somehar was there; trying to find me. I reached out blindly. We connected and I felt his warmth surround me, pulling me back with him. The drumbeat got louder and I could hear the chanting more clearly. Slowly I became aware of other sensations including the physical sensations of his movement within me. My body felt too heavy to move, but eventually the pull of the pure physical need for release allowed me to move my hips in answer to his. My arms moved to caress his lean torso.

My body went rigid and I heard him cry out. Our climax was unearthly and sublime; a golden warmth spread through me. I collapsed back. I remember nothing more.


I wasn’t sure where I was. I carefully test-moved my toes and the fingers, they worked. I was warm. I was naked. I opened my eyes, the room was dark, but light infiltrated around the edges of the two shuttered windows along the wall across from where I lay.

I felt movement beside me and rolled onto my back. He was laying on his side, propped up on his elbow, his dark hair falling loosely around his shoulders. He was even more beautiful close up than he had seemed from up in my floating vantage point.

He said something to me and smiled slightly.

I frowned shaking my head. “I’m sorry I don’t understand.”

Welcome back his mind touched mine.

I smiled uncertainly. What happened?

The sea brought you to us. You were not badly injured, but you weren’t here. Not dead, just wandering. We called you back.


He nodded.

Thank you, I responded, for calling me back

He nodded formally, Thank you for allowing us to help you. How do you feel?

I took a moment to evaluate, I feel great. This was somewhat surprising to me, although he allowed a brief self-satisfied smirk to cross his face; a job well-done.

I stared at the ceiling for a few moments at the spot from which I’d watched last night’s events.

What’s your name? His question called me back

Nye. You?

Yuma. My father and I are the local hienama and healer.

It seemed unusual, and yet not, to be lying naked in a bed with a har I’d didn’t actually know, even on the “having met the night before” level. Although I hadn’t been fully aware during last night’s proceedings the closeness that kind of intimacy brought still lingered.

How did you come to be in the sea?

I was on the ship. There was a storm. A wave washed me overboard.

He nodded.

As I looked at him I really wished that I’d been more aware during the Grissecon. He was truly beautiful. Yuma smiled slyly as if sensing my thoughts. Under the covers he ran his hand across my stomach and caressed my inner thigh. His fingers then lightly touched me, gently probing the entrance to my body.

He grinned at me cheekily. Last night for Grissecon, this morning for pleasure?

I grinned back, and pulled him down towards me to share breath.

As we dressed, Yuma told me of the village, a peaceful and isolated blend of hara and human, and how few ships passed at this time of year. I was more than likely stuck here for the rest of the winter.

The storm had passed, but as we emerged from Yuma’s small home I could see the sea. The sight of its still dark and churning waters and the enormity of what my situation had been stopped me in my tracks. Yuma ran his hand down my back reassuringly.

It is lucky it is not later in the season and the water was not colder.

I heaved a heavy sigh.

He smiled at me meaningfully. We are a fishing village. We receive many gifts from the sea.

I raised an eyebrow at him skeptically, I am a gift?

He laughed. Most definitely! A gift for me! Still chuckling he turned and headed towards the village’s communal dining hall.

I am sure the powerful effects of last night’s Grissecon and the intoxicating effects of our recent aruna were heavily influencing me, but I was alive and this was a new adventure. As I followed him, watching the way his ass moved in the leather pants that he wore, and the way the loose wool sweater hung on his lean muscular frame, I tossed all caution to the wind once again; the sea had given us both a gift.

The End



  1. James said,

    April 9, 2008 at 3:04 pm

    More! more! more! I like these two characters! They could be in for some very interesting adventures! Write More Please!

  2. niennaainur said,

    July 13, 2008 at 7:50 pm

    Thank you my dear! There might be more to the story… who knows! 😉

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