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There he stands, standing tall, standing proud, his body chiseled, his muscles sculpted, looking glorious. A majestic warrior poised and ready, his sword Blue Thunder resting on his strong shoulders. A swashbuckling soldier, chivalrous to the core, ready to defend. A hero to his nation, a hero to his people, a hero to his woman.

There she sits, sitting pretty, her doe eyes looking up at him, expectant and beseeching, insistent upon him. Her hair ornaments sparkle, her bosom heaves, as a long leg slightly shifts.

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Her eyes fall upon his magnificent chest, as he slowly breathes in and out. She longs to be pressed against it, listening to his brave heart beat.

She would reach up with her mouth, pulling on his belt with her teeth, slowly untying it.

She gives a slight gasp as he gently descends upon her, engulfing her in an embrace. Her petite hands trace every sinew, caress every muscle, wanting to touch, wanting to feel every part of him. He lovingly cradles her as she continued her tender and sweet assault.

She would arch into him and mews plaintively, as his hand strokes a shapely hip. She then gently runs her tongue over his lip, licking him like a playful kitten. He growls, taking her mouth in a hungry, possessive kiss. Soon, they drift upon clouds of opulent delight.