The Cliff

Originally posted in December 2009, removed for Through a Tinted Lens. Reposted July, 2016.

The Cliff

by Raziel Moore

I gazed over at him. Nick looked like he was supporting the cliff, instead of the other way around. In the pale moonlight, his sinewy arms and legs were the same blue-gray as the granite wall. His chalk-dusted fingers sought and hooked into holds naturally, reflexively, the toes on his climbing shoes finding purchase on the tiniest juts. Like hanging onto a rock face was no different than leaning against a wall. He was gorgeous. Hot. The fact he wore only his climbing harness and shoes made it even hotter.

“Time to turn around, lover,” I said, then deepened my voice in mock imitation of him, “‘You have to be able to trust your rope’.”

“Casey, this isn’t a good idea.” That’s Nick for you. He’s always practical.

“So you said the first twelve times. It’s your fault, you know,” I accused.

Nick had introduced me to climbing, and our friendship, and then relationship, had grown around the conquering of my fear of heights. Now, I loved it almost as much as he did. There was something about clinging to a rock face, hauling yourself up against the unyielding stone, every pull and step up closing on the goal and raising the risk simultaneously.

“Not this, Case.”

I giggled, partly at Nick, partly from nerves. I turned my head to look at the night-lit valley over a hundred feet below us – almost straight below. The June air was still, just past the perfume of spring. It was dry and cool, but I didn’t feel it. My adrenaline had been pumping since before we geared up at the top.

“Its not like we’re trying to free-climb El Capitan in the dark,” I said.

“No,” I could see him frown in the three-quarter moonlight, petulance crystal clear, “this is more dangerous.”

It had taken a year to get me to this level of climbing, but I’d had the image of tonight in my head practically since the first time I saw Nick free-climb “Tale of Genji” at Rhino Rock Park, showing off for me, trying to entice me to try just the first few feet. I never thought I’d actually, technically be able do it – or truly want to, until Nick and I started getting serious. It was over the winter in the climbing gyms I figured I probably could, and that I wanted to. This spring I realized I had to, at some point.

“Well, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” I challenged him. We’d had this discussion on the ground already. He knew I was stubborn. And he’d trusted me this far.  I watched him weighing it again in his mind. I was committed, I told myself. This decision had to be his.

“You are a hazardous girl, Case,” he said, but he turned casually, letting go of his handholds. I let my gaze travel up and down his frame as he rotated toward me. Damn, but I picked a winner. Climbers are strong, but light. They have the muscles in all the right places, but they have nothing they don’t absolutely need for hauling themselves up a wall. And I could see it all in the moonlight. As he turned away from the rock, his cock dangled, pointing down to the boulder field below us. His instincts still ruled him though; his grippy shoes were turned outward, finding purchase in tiny shadowed niches and irregularities. He held the rock with his left hand and his rope with his right. Nick scowled over at me, belying a tension I rarely saw on a climb – or anywhere else. Nevertheless, he let me slide over his left arm and draw near, then over him, until he was sandwiched between the rock face and me. I inhaled his scent. He smelled of chalk, and clean sweat, and earth.

“That’s why you love me,” I whispered in his ear. The night was quiet, high above the ground, far below the top. He rubbed his cheek against mine, a day of stubble making him scratchy.

“If I loved you I wouldn’t let you do this.” He let go his rope and brought an arm around my waist. His iron arm and calloused fingers wrapped the illusion of total safety around me.

“Because you love me, you will.” I said it, I knew it was something I needed to be true, but I shied away from that and teased – “And because you think fucking a girl dangling over a cliff is too hot.”

He sniffed into the night air, but didn’t reply. I took that as an affirmative. I knew Nick loved me, or was starting to. And I had fallen for him already – held back, I knew  only by thin strings of uncertainty I could not cut on my own. That’s partly why I was pushing us – pushing myself – to do this. I knew I could trust him, and that he could trust me. But did he know that? And could I really bear it if it turned out the answer was no? I needed to know, and I was not ashamed to attempt to use Nick’s libido to subvert his better judgment. But even now he was still on the edge of listening to reason and calling it off. That saneness made me feel better – and more determined to go ahead.

“Now hang on while I slip into something more comfortable.”


“Shh!” I looked into Nick’s face, trying to be stern. I don’t think I’d ever seen doubt or fear in it before. Seeing it now almost made me lose my resolve. Almost. After a few searching moments, his left hand let go of the wall.

His hard arms encircled and supported me, and inside his embrace I started undoing my harness. I was careful – this was one of the most dangerous parts, after all – but made extra, unnecessary wiggles against him as I undid the clips and wormed my way out. His skin was hot, the air around us cool, the rock behind him still radiating the day’s warmth. I breathed him in, and caught my own scent as well. Yes, I was ready for this.

When I was free, and had secured the harness to my rope, I held it up for him to see, and then let it fall and swing away, just beyond reach. His arms around my waist were now my only harness. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I lowered my head to his broad chest for a moment, hugging my arms around his neck. His heart, always a metronome beat of calmness, was also pumping faster. I looked out along the rock wall and at the open air beyond, feeling where I was – where we were.

“I’ve got you, Casey,” he said – probably for his own benefit as much as mine.

I pulled my head up and looked into his eyes again. I let myself feel the fear I’d been holding in check; let him see it. It licked at me like a flame, in the pit of my stomach – and between my legs. But Nick was holding me – my rock. That kept the fear at bay, and I wanted him to see that, too. And then there was the hunger. That had been stirring, growing in me all day – as we’d climbed this very route up the face of Mt. Davis like any normal pair. We’d stayed up top for dinner, watching other climbers top and rappel down. We’d watched the sunset from there, every minute a slow simmer for me. Continuing as we made ready, the climbing harnesses looking like fetish gear on our naked bodies. I supposed we were now making that an accurate description. Only the technical part of the descent had distracted me from my growing nervous arousal. Now there was nothing else.

My legs had been dangling slightly parted. Now, I opened them more, bringing my knees above his, resting them wedged between the rock wall and his leg. Curling my left arm around his neck, and sliding my right between the hard rock wall and his hard back, I lowered myself against his body.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, still meeting my eyes. The fear and doubt that had been there were gone, or at least controlled. His rough fingers gripped me, melding to me like he did the rock itself when he climbed.

“I know. Now… Ah. You decided to wake up!” I felt the barest touch of his rising cock below my ass. Nick grinned a little sheepishly.

“Well, when my girlfriend is undressing herself all up in my business, I can’t help but take notice.” There. That’s my Nick.

I wiggled downward a fraction, teasing, as it pressed up more. It was soon another part of Nick as hard as the rock of the cliff, but I wasn’t going to use it for a handhold.

“Aren’t you a little cold, swinging in the wind like that?” I asked him. Neither of us felt the slightest chill, I bet.

“I wouldn’t say swinging, exactly. But you have thoughts on warming me up?” The tension in his voice – like two bodies hanging from a rope – made me hotter.

“Oh, yes. Yes I do. Come here,” I let go of his neck, hooked one hand tight around his back to his shoulder, and reached down with the other, bending in his arms. I dared to look down, and shivered as I took hold of his shaft and pointed it to me.

“Belay me,” I said, and he snorted. Then he let me slide down his body, slowly, carefully. My nipples rubbed against the skin and sparse hair of his chest and the straps of his harness as I sank myself onto his cock. I was dripping wet. I had been since we started the climb down. Since we’d gotten in our harnesses. We both groaned, and I straightened once his cockhead was safely inside me. I met his eyes again as I filled myself with him. He fit me so right, and I let him know, making him groan again. I pulled myself forward, mouth to his ear.

“You know what I want, Nick.”

“You’re afraid. I can see it. I can feel you shiver.”

“It’s the cold air,” I lied, and he knew it. Of course I was afraid.

“It’s not too late,” he said, arms tight around me in the night. He was scared, too. That’s what this was about. In part. I swallowed.

“Yes it is. Come on.” I kept the tremor out my voice, at least.

“You better hold on,” no bravado, no paternalism or instruction in his tone now. Now it was just Nick about to let me do something really, really stupid. He leaned forward, away from the rock face, stretching his rope taut. Fifteen degrees, then thirty, then forty-five. Now, only the well-anchored rope attached to his harness, and his feet planted on the wall kept both of us from falling to our deaths. Only our arms, wrapped around each other kept me up – and alive. I curled my legs around him to lock my ankles behind his clenched buttocks. He pulsed inside me.

“Let go, Nick,” I whispered. Please.

And, after two deep breaths, he did. His arms opened out to either side, like he was flying, or swan diving, and all that kept me from falling were my arms and legs around him, and his twitching cock spiked in my belly like a piton. I whimpered in fear and arousal and clung to him. It was the most terrifying and erotic moment of my life.

Until I started fucking him. Then it got even scarier, and even hotter. I moaned out loud, breaking the quiet of the night. I pulled myself up and down his hot, hard body, literally hanging on to him for dear life, and at the same time impaling myself on him with increasing abandon. My clit rubbed against his abdomen, sometimes catching the rougher strap of his harness.

The moon shone down on us. A couple hundred yards away, in the forest, a small group of tents was hidden in the trees, camp fires low or out. Our tent there; empty. The others belonged to people we didn’t know who’d be climbing here tomorrow. Maybe past this spot. I felt the sweat between our bodies, my grip not as sure as when I started. I didn’t stop or slow down. He felt so good. I let my head fall back and fucked faster, rocking us on the rope as I ground my hips against him. I looked out, upside-down,  at the open nothing around and below us, and whimpered, and didn’t stop.

I was going to come. I moved more recklessly, pulling my head back up, eyes sweeping the rock to Nick’s hawk-like face watching me. His alert eyes burned with concentration and lust; his body tensed from our union, arms still out to the sides. I saw the moon, the stars it could not outshine, a shooting star. I felt myself rising; slipping.

I cried out and came. And slipped free. My arms lost their grip, my legs spasmed and unclasped. And fell, and squeezed him as if my cunt were the only thing holding me aloft. And fell. He arms there, hard around my waist and I spilled back and away, head and arms dangling toward the ground, screaming. He’d caught me, held me to him, crying out abandon and pleasure in the night air.

And then, through it all, I heard and felt him. Knees flexing, abdomen straining. His cock throbbed deep inside me and filled me with him, like the mountain wall itself erupting into me, his breath a roar of wind around us.

We were slick with sweat, but his hands and arms were solid as the cliff itself; holding me like life itself, until I had the strength and presence of mind to reach up and pull upright, and wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him deeply. I opened my mouth to him, and licked his dry lips, coaxing his tongue out to play. I was exhausted, but giddy, and ecstatic beyond sex.

I had my answer. And, I think, so did he, even if he hadn’t been thinking of the question yet.

“Wow,” he said, a little breathless, after I finally broke our kiss. “I hope we didn’t wake anybody up.” Now it was my turn to snort, and then giggle at the idea.

“The hazards of group campsites.” I said, then more seriously, “Thank you Nick.”

“You’re welcome, Casey,” he said it simply, but I saw his smile, and melted against him all over again.

We weren’t done of course, not by a long shot. Nick had the worst of the job now, pulling up both of us, mostly with main strength. We’d discussed it earlier and agreed that rappelling down was also possible, but it would be impolite to abandon equipment up top, even temporarily. Nick said that he could do it, and I believed him. My job was just holding on.

“You ready?” He asked. I nodded. And whether or not he’d had doubts before, he believed me now.

One thing I hadn’t counted on – I suppose I had only planned up to a certain point – was that as Nick turned carefully to face the rock and grab handholds, he was still hard and buried in me. Something else I could hold onto him with. I giggled and told him that. He responded by pulling himself to the rock face, pinning me there and grinding up with is pelvis into mine with a growl. I mewled in a most undignified way, then giggled again as he started climbing, my back passing fractions of an inch from the rock as he took each careful hand and foot hold, and tightened the ropes slack step by step. He pressed against me again several more times as we climbed, making me moan and shudder each time he trapped me against the cooling cliff face. It was slick where our bodies met, and I don’t doubt that some of our mixed cum escaped our still-joined bodies and was dripping down his leg. Our commingled scent rose with us. Still, he was solid, rooted to the mountain as he was in me, and we rose, foot by foot. His face was a mask of concentration and focus now. His stomach and thigh muscles pressed against me, rippling, working to pull us up. His cock pushed and twisted fractionally in me, fucking me up the cliff.

We narrowly avoided rope burns in sensitive places, and each got one or two abrasions from soft skin brushing wrong against hard rock, but we made it back up to the top, as I knew we would. Nick hauled us over, and rolled on his back, me astride him. I brought my hands to his sweaty chest, feeling him breathe. His fell to my hips, as I started moving on him. I kept it up, moving slowly, purposefully, until his eyes half closed and he started shaking, and arching up into me. Then I ground down hard, mashing my clit between us, squeezing him hard as I could.

He exhaled and came, again, releasing all the remaining tension he’d been holding into me. He let go my hips and opened his arms palms up. He let go of everything. I concentrated on feeling him, smiling down at him until my own orgasm swept me up. We shook together sighing, gravity pushing me onto Nick instead of trying to pull me away from him. At long last, I collapsed onto him, and we panted together in the setting moonlight. Minutes passed and he softened and slipped out, our cum dripping from me to him to the rocky ground.

“Thank you,” I said into his chest. I heard him chuckle. I loved that rumbling sound.

“Thank you, Casey.” I raised my head and looked down at him, seriously.

“No, Nick, I mean-”

“I know, Casey. I know what you mean.” The look in his eyes said maybe he did. “But,” he added, “we’re not doing that again. Ever.” He said it matter of factly. The contrarian in me stirred, and stilled. He was right. We wouldn’t. We – I – didn’t need to anymore.

“No,” I said quietly, “I promise.”

Our clothes were where we’d left them, and we dressed in silence, and then walked slowly, carefully down the back trail to our tent. Just a casual night hike with my lover. That’s all. Nothing to see here.

By the time we woke up, sore and lethargic, it was pushing noon. The campsite was deserted – everyone else on the rocks already. I got out of the tent in my just my nightshirt and started the stove while Nick rummaged for breakfast in our packs. I turned when I noticed he’d been quiet for some time. He was just standing there, arms at his sides, beautiful in his sweatpants and nothing else, looking at me.

“Casey,” his voice was quiet, solid as the mountain, “I have a question I want to ask you.”

I felt the open nothing under both of us, and the fresh, crystalline memory of his arms holding me aloft in the night, and knew what my answer would be.

– Raziel Moore


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Categories: Consensual, CP, Erotic Dare, Erotica, Raziel, Romance, Short StoryTags: , , , , , , ,


I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.


  1. Ange

    wow.that’s first time i’ve actually felt real fear reading one of your stories to the point that i couldn’t get into the sex part.good concept.

    • Monocle

      Hey, thanks Will. I really appreciated your comments on the draft, and I think they helped a lo. I do think it turned out pretty well.

  2. Daisy

    You made fear both dark and beautiful – a perfect combination. I’m new here, and very glad to have found your site. Will read on….

    • Monocle

      Thanks, Cara. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if the writing has walked the edge successfully or stepped over it.

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