The bear pelt was heavy and warm. Strange, to think that the pelt and meat were keeping them alive and comfortable after the bear had nearly killed him. There was a sort of grim irony in that, he supposed, but it was lost in the relief of being alive, the exhaustion of his ordeal, and the wonder of the woman in his arms.
Rael stared down at Silmaria. She slept for now, a deep, peaceful sleep with her face pressed to his solid chest, one small hand resting on his shoulder. His arms were around her, cradling her to him and warming her in a protective and secure embrace she’d been immediately lulled by. She slept with the slight curve of a smile tracing her full lips.
He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t even want to, really. He’d been asleep for days, and he’d come perilously close to never waking again. No, he’d had this fill of sleep for now.
Instead, he studied the woman he held. She was a wonder indeed. He lifted a hand, tracing the fine bone of one cheek with feather light touches. He let his fingertips follow the line of the dark stripe slashing just under her cheek, accentuating her features and lines. She was lovely. Her beauty second only to her strength and goodness.
For Rael, the past few days went by in a fever-daze. Disconnected, disconcerting half-lucid moments of pain and confusion. He remembered the pain of being struck down by the bear. Waking, sometimes for moments so fleeting he was unable to truly grasp at what was happening. The stalactite’s hanging overhead as he stared up. In the haze of his fever they’d seemed the teeth of an icy giant, and him cradled in its maw. At any moment those fearsome teeth would descent and puncture him and cut and chew and rend him to pulp that would be so easily swallowed. Sometimes he awoke, his side burning with overwhelming pain. It was as if the bear had just gutted him all over again. He wanted to grab his side, to roll into a ball, to cry out and curse and do something, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.
Those brief moments of consciousness began to slide through his fingers, ungraspable. He was distantly and distinctly terrified that the last moments before his death would go by without his notice. Then it would already be too late.
Through it all was Silmaria. The feel of her small, stubborn hands tending his flesh. The smell of her, somehow overriding the smell of his own sweat and suffering. Her face hovering over his, the face of an angel of mercy who would not let him go. She anchored him with her fragile and courageous strength in a way that awed him.
And above everything, her voice. The constant litany of her words of comfort and belief. Her belief in him. In his strength. Her belief he would pull through. It was a balm to his soul, a lifeline in those times when all the world went dark and his grip on all he was began to falter. Always, her words were there to cling to, and he drew resolve and will from her precious voice.
Rael did not remember what she said. Not entirely. Her words were snatches, bits and pieces, half phrases and monosyllables etched in his mind and carved into his soul.
I’m so very afraid of being alone, she’d whispered to him in the sort of tone that made him want to hold her and shield her from all the grief and pain of the world.
The people I love die.
They never last.
He would be different. She would never suffer alone again. She would never fear to love, never fear the powerful potential for loss that love bore. He swore the vow, silent and solemn. Silmaria had tasted too much bitter loss already. He’d not add to it.
Rael stretched slightly. His body protested, sore and depleted as it always was after Mending. Silmaria stirred against him, murmuring sleepy protests, rousing but not yet truly awake. The Nobleman studied the Gnari, his brilliant silver orbs following the flow and shape of her. His hands traced the contour of her form under the blankets and bearskin, where his eyes could not go. Her short, supple pelt was softness itself, like fine, smooth velvet under his fingertips. Caressing it was a luxurious, pleasant feeling.
Memories of her swirled around his mind, chasing one another in heady circles. The patterns of her coat, her bared, exposed body. The way orange played on white, accentuated with little slashes of black all around. The creamy whiteness of the coloring of her inner thighs and her belly. The suppleness of her strong, spread thighs. Her breasts, heavy and swaying and bouncing with the urgency of his thrusts. The taste of her on his tongue, sweet and heavy and musky with blatant arousal. The searing warmth of her flesh wrapped around his. Her screams of pain and surprise, dripping with palpably copious pleasure.
He remembered all of it. Every last second. Every single detail. He was unable to control himself. Unable to stop. Oh how he’d tried, afraid that he was hurting her, that he was wronging her. But it was so very hard to stop the violently insistent urges that overtook him after Mending.
Almost he’d wrest control back, though it had cost him more energy and force of will than anyone would ever know. Almost he’d subdued himself, thinking to spare her the misery of his primal desires.
Only to find that she welcomed them.
Silmaria embraced the fierce cravings he had with acceptance and understanding in her beautiful emerald eyes.
It’s Okay, she said, her voice sure and tender and full of love. Take me, Master. Take all of me. Take everything you need. I am for you. I am yours.
He’d let go, then, allowed his body and his instincts to continue their urging, and he a passenger in his own skin.
But through it all, he was aware, and basking in every last moment of their hungry, desperate fucking. It would have probably been troubling, being a sort of voyeur in his own flesh, had it not been so deeply and incredibly satisfying.
“For a man with a handful of tit, you sure do look serious,” Silmaria said, amused.
Rael blinked, then looked down into her face. His brow furrowed for half a moment before he realized that at some point during his thoughtful contemplation, his hand had worked its way to one of Silmaria’s generous, warm breasts and cupped the orb firmly, letting it fill his big hand. Her nipple was thickly rigid against his calloused palm.
The Knight gave a crooked, almost embarrassed smile at being caught unawares, and left his hand precisely where it was. “Seems impossible that I should be thinking so hard on other things with such treasures in my grasp. But I confess, my hand had a mind of its own.”
“It seems most of you has a mind of its own of late, hmm?” Silmaria said with a playful, challenging smile. She arched her back slightly, pressing her breast briefly into his warm, gripping hand, then settled with a squirm against him. She rested her chin on his chest and stared up into his face.
“True. But this time it’s merely from distracted thoughts,” he chuckled lightly.
Silmaria shrugged, gave a thoughtful smile, and drummed her fingertip on the muscle of his chest. “About that. Not that I’m not enjoying the whole you not being dead thing in and of itself…but do you think maybe you could tell me about…well…any of what happened tonight, maybe? Because I admit, between the you not dying, the you being on fire, and the you turning into a raging sex beast… which was probably the best way to celebrate not being dead, I have to say… I’m afraid I’m more than a bit confused.”
Rael smirked wryly down at her and reached up with one hand to run his strong fingers through her thick black curls. “That’s a pretty good bit of ground to cover. We’ll take it one question at a time.”
Silmaria thought for a moment, then ran her fingertips slowly along the broad band of scar tissue running diagonal across his chest, down to his hip. “Let’s start with the whole you being immortal bit, then.”
Rael laughed softly at that. “Not immortal, no. I’m pretty sure that I can and will die. Though I’ve not had the courage to find out for certain. But no. Not immortal. Just very, very hard to kill.”
“This isn’t the first time this kind of thing has happened, then,” Silmaria ventured.
“No,” Rael admitted.
“So the very, very hard to kill bit, then.”
Rael’s brow creased slightly as he considered his words. “Truly, I don’t really know what it is that happens. Or why. Nor does it always happen, every time. As I’m sure you remember, I was wounded during the assault on the House, and the most spectacular thing that came of that was I lost a good bit of blood and managed to get you into my chambers.”
“Yes. And what a pity you didn’t become as riled up then as you were tonight,” Silmaria mused. She glanced up to see Rael giving her a slightly surprised and deeply amused look. She grinned playfully. “But please, go on.”
“Pity indeed,” he smirked. “But yes. It’s not as if every hurt or injury I take is erased. And I don’t know what causes it. Maybe I have to be mortally wounded. Maybe I have to have the energy reserves to fuel it. Maybe the stars have to align just right. Whatever the case, sometimes it happens… and I Mend.”
“You Mend?” Silmaria echoed.
“Mm. It’s what I’ve come to call it. I don’t know what else to know it by. I’ve done research. Deep, thorough research. I can’t find mention of it in any sorcery, faith text, or book of lore I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”
“How many times has it happened?” she asked.
“I’ve lost count, truly. A dozen. Perhaps more. Soldiering brought a good deal of it out.”
“I can imagine,” she said quietly, and shuddered to imagine the legacy of the tracery of scars covering his pale flesh. She ran her fingers along that most prominent one across his chest.
“This one?” she ventured.
“A Haruke battle axe. Swung by one of the biggest bastards I’ve ever seen. I had full plate armor on, and it crunched right into my chest. Probably would have bit straight through me if I hadn’t been armored so.”
Silmaria blanched. “And it’s always the same? How it happens?”
“Mostly,” Rael mused. His arms tightened around her reflexively. She could feel the shudder run through him at the horrible memories, but he spoke on.
“I always fall into a deep sleep. It’s impossible to wake me. My wound often becomes quickly and severely infected. Like my body is trying to get purge all the infection and poison from the wound all at once. Then the fever comes. My body builds this…heat. Like an inferno heating my flesh and boiling my blood in my veins. It’s…painful.
“Then I’m cleansed by fire. My wound scoured by strange flames that come from within the damaged tissue. I’m cauterized from the inside. It burns through my flesh, and the worse the wound, the worse the fire.”
“It must be awful,” Silmaria murmured, gripping him tightly as she shuddered to even imagine it. Being consumed by fire from the inside out…
“It’s not what most would call a good time,” he chuckled softly, and shrugged his muscular shoulders. “But Mending…whatever it is, wherever it comes from, has kept me alive many times. But I don’t count on it saving my life. Ever. I never know when it will take me and when I will simply suffer through a more mundane healing.
“And always, it’s the same. The infection. The fever. Bringing me to the edge of death before scouring away my wounds. I’ve never Mended instantly. Only if I can be stabilized and brought through that miserable period. Which is why I believe I’m not immortal, whatever I am. I’m sure if I were to suffer a mortal wound that killed me quickly, I would die before I had the chance to Mend.”
“I don’t want to think about that,” Silmaria muttered as she nuzzled into him. “In fact, if we can avoid the whole ‘Mending’ thing in general, that would be great. I mean, it’s pretty handy in the event you do get hurt. But it’d be great to not have to go through the whole you teetering on the edge of death thing again. Which would have been a great thing to know about in the first place, I’ll add.”
Rael had the grace to meet her glare with an apologetic look. Amusedly apologetic, but apologetic nonetheless. “I was sort of hopeful it wouldn’t become an issue.”
Silmaria’s glare turned incredulous. Though she couldn’t fully mask some amusement of her own, she did give it a good try anyway. “You were hopeful it wouldn’t become an issue? We’re running away from assassins, the Knighthood… hell, the entire fucking country wants to collect the rewards on our heads…especially your head…and you didn’t think there was the chance you might end up catching a bit of a nick at some point?”
“You did say I was the finest sword hand you’d ever seen,” he pointed out with a teasing smirk.
Silmaria glared at him for a few more moments, then gave it up with a sigh. She smiled tiredly at him, then rolled over to lay on her other side. “You were awake for that bit then, huh?”
Rael turned with her, wrapping his arms about her and pulling her back so she was pressed against him. He traced the fine, graceful contour of her spine with one finger as he studied the patterns of her pelt, playing out in whites and oranges and blacks across her delicate back like a natural canvas of art. “I may have been. Or I imagined it. It’s hard to tell when I’m that deep into fever. Everything kind of blurs into blots of reality and delusions and hallucinations.”
“Mm,” Silmaria smiled lightly. She shut her eyes and relaxed under Rael’s lightly tracing fingers. She enjoyed his touch immensely as his fingers slipped along her soft, short pelt.
“So how about you turning into some kind of animal?”
Rael’s fingers paused for the briefest of moments, then continued their slow, casual sliding along her arching spine. “That’s very hard to explain, too.”
“Try,” she replied softly, her lips spreading into a beautiful, if tired, smile. “I’ve got time. Should I expect you to go all wild if I get mouthy and make you angry or something?”
“If that were the case, I would have gotten plenty riled up a long time ago,” Rael countered with a light smile. “No. It only really happens after I Mend.”
The Noble thought for a moment, then went on, his eyes and hands working along her back. “It’s like becoming a beast of some kind. That’s the closest thing I can liken it to. Everything becomes instinct. Reflex. I lose all sense of conscious thought. Most of my emotions are gone. Well, not gone but… simplified. All I do is feel, and all I feel is basic, primal emotions and motivations. Pain. Pleasure. Instinctive drives to be safe and dry and warm and fed. I don’t think about things. I just act. I lose all concept of society, of other people’s feelings, of the consequences of right or wrong. I am, and I do. It’s simple. It’s easy. And it’s disastrous. I am capable of things, when I am in that place…”
“Tell me,” she said softly, after he’d fallen silent for some time.
Rael shrugged. Silmaria sensed he was dredging bits and scraps of memories from someplace long tucked away. “I could easily murder someone, when in that primal and unthinking state, and not think twice about it. And it wouldn’t be out of maliciousness or spite or evil.
“It could be because I felt threatened,” he explained. “If I felt threatened, I’d kill the threat. If I were hungry, and I saw food, I would take that food, regardless if it were stealing or wrong, and regardless if I had to hurt someone to get it. I wouldn’t bear the person any ill will, but neither would I care. I have no moral compass, no reasoning when in that state. I have no context to draw on. I simply… am.”
Silmaria leaned back against him, her hand reaching up to rest on his cheek. She’d seen that. Seen the primal, instinctive force hiding behind Rael’s eyes that was nothing but fierce, basic desires and drives. “But you’re still in there, when it happens. Somewhere. You wanted what happened.”
“Yes,” Rael admitted slowly. His arm went around her, his fingers brushing along the flatness of her lean belly. “It’s all reduced to very basic feelings and desires and needs. But it’s still me… on some level, anyway. My need to be safe. My need for food. My desire to mate. It’s me, only simplified, and focused. And even though I have no control during those times, it’s not as if I’m blacked out during it all. I’m there. I’m experiencing it all. Just as an onlooker. A passenger, of sorts. I’m riding along, but something else… some other aspect of myself that I cannot control, has the reigns.”
Silmaria squirmed slightly against him, and her ass pressed to his lap, warm and firm and curving. Silmaria had an ample backside, and shapely, the kind of generously rounded flesh brought on by activity and vitality and strength and graceful movement. Rael felt himself stirring at the warm press of it. The Gnari noticed, too, and immediately pressed back more firmly against him, grinding into the swelling length of Rael’s cock to nestle it between her buttocks, soft and supple to the touch while keeping a firm, sculpted shape.
“So you have these strange, violent changes. You’re wounded, then go through this wasting and feverish period. Then you Mend, and after, you turn feral and uncontrollable. And no one seems to notice this about you?” Silmaria asked.
Rael was finding it suddenly more difficult to focus on her words. “Not many,” he said, fighting to keep his voice level and stable even as the wicked little minx of a Gnari pressed and wriggled that lush ass along his growing endowment. “I had help keeping it quiet. The first time it happened, I was young. I was out hunting with Father, just the two of us. I must have been eight or so. It was my first hunt, and he was teaching me how to ride down a deer. A wild boar caught us unawares. Big old bastard, with tusks like spears. Skewered my pony, and me with it. Nearly ripped my leg to shreds.
“I was taken back to the Manor. Lirena tended me. She took care of most of our sicknesses and injuries even then. Back in those days she was even better; her eyes and hands weren’t crippled with age.
“Father stayed at my side through it all. He was there, when the Mending came. He was there when I was an uncontrollable, wild thing of a child for a few hours after. Lirena knew my recovery was impossible. Father gave her a look, and she said nothing and asked no more questions. But she knew it wasn’t normal, not by any means.”
“And after that?” Silmaria pressed. Maddeningly, even though he could tell by the tone of her voice she was genuinely interested in hearing his words, she would not stop the distracting grinding of her delicious ass against his cock, the warm press of her buttocks surrounding his pulsing shaft and pressing him deeper into the cleft of her crack. Her tail flicked against his belly, snaking out to the side and lashing at the air playfully.
“After that,” he said slowly, more distracted by the moment as his hands slid down to cup and squeeze the gentle rounding of her hips, “I was very lucky to become friends with a Dwarven physician named StoneFingers.”
“A Dwarven physician?” Silmaria asked with raised brows.
“A Dwarven physician,” Rael confirmed. “He first tended me after a battle years ago. It was perhaps my second battle as a full sworn Knight. I took a sword to the gut. StoneFingers tended me, and witnessed my Mending, and dealt with me after.
“He should have reported the whole thing to the ranking officers in the camp. He didn’t. I begged him not to. I did not know what would happen if they found out, but I knew it would be nothing good. I would be viewed as a freak. Or a possible threat. Most likely, I would be sent from the war to be studied and examined and prodded and poked and used up by the Magi’s Sanctum. I didn’t want that, and StoneFingers was a good enough man to recognize what I feared.
“After that first time, StoneFingers was one of my closest confidants. He was the only one besides my Father who knew of the Mending. He could have exposed that secret and who knows what would have become of me, but he was a true friend. Whenever I was wounded to the point of Mending, StoneFingers made sure I was in his care. He kept all prying eyes and inquiries at bay. He downplayed my injuries when needed, kept me alive through my waning period until my body took over and Mended. He kept me away from others while I went through the crazy uncontrolled phases after, sometimes even restraining me if need be. I don’t think I would have gotten through those times without him.”
“I’m glad he was there then,” Silmaria nodded, glancing over her shoulder at him. Her thick mane of curls fell across one graceful shoulder, half-obscuring her face.
She looked at him with those big Gnari eyes, and flashed a coy smile as she rotated her ass needily on his cock. She could feel the precum dribbling from the fat, engorged head, slippery and warm and wet along the crack of her ass. “So am I the first helpless maid you’ve made a conquest of during one of your out of control spells?”
Rael chuckled softly. “There wasn’t exactly any women around the other times. I guess even when I’m not in control of myself, I’m not too keen on Dwarven doctors.”
Silmaria laughed loudly, then drew up short, going still as Rael’s powerful, calloused hands firmly gripped her upper arms, holding her there meaningfully.
“Silmaria…if I hurt you…”
The Gnari girl shook her head, and slowly turned in his grasp to face him. She rested one slender hand on his broad, scarred chest, and stared firmly into his eyes. “You know my nature, Master Rael. I’ve told you all about my ways, my cravings. Everything. I gravitate toward dark pleasures. That I love you and am enamored with you and that you are more to me than an inconsequential fling or a passing stranger to sooth my ache does not lessen my cravings for those darker pleasures. If anything, having you take me, use me harshly, and inflict sweet pain on me gave me more pleasure than I have ever known.
“Do not fear to hurt me,” she told him solemnly, “For I know you will never truly harm me. I have learned to appreciate pain, my kind and wonderful Lord. I learned to appreciate it for the focus and clarity it gives me during the Stirring. Pain often keeps the longing and painfully hollow ache that gnaws into me from becoming overwhelming. Besides, my Master… I have felt much of pain that has gone far deeper than the flesh. Compared to that? There is no pain or sufferance that your tender brutality can deliver.
“Unless,” she said, slowly, and here she seemed almost to wilt as she faltered, staring up into his silver eyes with uncertain vulnerability. “Well. If you find such dark pleasure and loving… distasteful, when you have your wits about you…”
His hands tightened on her arms again, his fingers digging into her flesh until she gasped aloud. She saw the subtle darkening of his eyes, and his sharp, pointed gaze smoldered in a way that had her squirming.
“I am not in control of myself, during those times,” Rael said in his deep, low, measured tone. “But it is still me. My motivations and desires are primal and basic and instinctual. But they are still, ultimately, mine. That unfettered aspect is, nonetheless, a strong part of myself. Understand, Silmaria… I would never want to hurt you. Not in a way that would do you lasting harm, or cause you heartache. I have always strived to be a good man. A kind man. A man of character and compassion and grace. And I feel very strongly against mistreating women.
“However,” he said, and his voice dipped into that low, gravely tone that made her thighs clench immediately.
“Sometimes, certain women need to be treated differently than honorable conduct and chivalric kindness dictates.”
Silmaria arched her back sensually and reached up with one hand, reaching back to run her fingers through his copper hair. “I’m no lady, to be treated gently,” she murmured.
“Ladies do not have sole right to gentle treatment,” he said into the nape of her neck, his breath hot on her skin. “But there is a time and place for all things. Even the casting aside of gentleness and proper manners.”
“Funny you should talk about casting aside manners, considering you’re choosing such a polite way of talking about fu…ah!” Silmaria cried out, for Rael’s hand had suddenly come up, quick and sure and without warning, to grip one of her generous breasts, cupping the firm, lush orb in one huge palm. His thumb and forefinger caught her already stiffly aroused nipples and pinched, hard, pressing it between his fingers and rolling it.
Silmaria quivered, her back arching, thrusting her breasts into his wicked, powerful hand. She thrashed, jerking as that hard, tight pinch shot a lance of pain straight through her and into her gut, where it settled in the depth of her cunt with a profoundly effective ache. Her thighs pressed and squeezed together and she could feel herself growing rapidly wetter by the moment, more and more each time Rael rolled that hyper sensitive nub of pink flesh back and forth between his tormenting fingers.
“Ah…you…oh gods…” Silmaria moaned. She glanced over her shoulder, catching just a glimpse of his face, but that glimpse made her suck in a breath anew. She saw his silver eyes, a darker, harder shade of silver, piercing and cool as he watched her. His lips lifted at one corner in a wicked, confident smirk. He knew the torture he was putting her through. He knew he was hurting her. And he knew just how keenly she needed it. How that one solitary lance of pain was enough to make her a helpless puddling mess at his feet and in his hands.
And he was enjoying it! Reveling in it. He was playing her like a fine tuned instrument, and he had barely even started. He knew it, she could see it in his eyes, and he would use that knowledge as power on her, against her, and for her.
Silmaria swallowed hard to keep from whimpering her delight.
“Sometimes I will have manners,” he said beside her sensitive feline ear. His lips were just a breath away, so close she could feel the vibrations from their movement on the short, smooth hairs of her pelt.
“And sometimes I will not. Sometimes I will love you with kindness and tenderness in my touch. And sometimes I will fuck you in the dark and wicked ways you crave to receive and I am more than happy to give. But it will be in my time, in my way, for that is the way I am, and that is all I can be.”
Silmaria whimpered, moaning as he gripped her nipples, both of them, and those wicked, cruel, patient fingers pinched hard. He pulled, stretching her nipples so very deliciously out away from her jiggling tits, and he was so very nonchalant and casual about it and that was driving her insane in the most maddeningly delicious ways. All the while he conversed with her as if talking about their travels or the weather or what he planned to do once he was old and his soldiering days were through. Her pussy was on fire, and all she wanted was more of him.
“And that’s all I want,” she groaned, trying hard indeed to form some coherent thoughts. “All I want is you, Master. All I want is for you to take me, however you want to take me. Take me at your leisure, whispering sweet nothings into my ear that make my heart ache. Take me frantic and cruel as you curse me for the wanton whore I am. I don’t care! Take me as it pleases you. Just take me.”
“Gladly,” he said into her ear, his voice a growl that mingled amusement, triumph, and sweetly savage longing in a way that would have any woman frantically peeling off her knickers.
“Yes,” Silmaria sighed, and then he was upon her. Rael’s hand wrapped around her throat, his long, powerful fingers circling around the delicate column of her neck. He squeezed, not especially hard, just enough to make her breath hitch a bit and her air to come slightly labored. Enough to let her feel the strength and control in that grasp, and oh gods that was exactly what she needed.
Rael pressed her down, arousal pumping through his blood. He pushed the sensual woman onto her belly on the ground, forcing her delectable ass into the air. For a breath of an instant, his eyes lingered on her, drinking in that erotically devious sight, Silmaria pressed to the stone ground, her head held in place by his grip on her neck, her ass upturned like the eager little slut she was. Her thighs were parted, and beneath the firm, plump swell of her arching ass was her cunt, slick and dripping already in anticipation. The thick petals of her outer lips were swollen and spread, showing the tender, glistening pink within.
Silmaria licked her full, soft lips, wriggling in anticipation, and then bit her lower lip. Her breasts pressed against the cold stone floor, as did her cheek, and she didn’t care that her nipples were cold pebbles grazing along the stone, she just wanted Master Rael, she just wanted…
“Oh fuck!” she screamed as his free hand grabbed her side and steadying her as he came up behind her, lined up with her sodden cunt, and thrust forward. His cock drove home, spreading and stretching her slippery folds and driving deep into her hot, welcoming core.
Rael growled softly in his throat, holding Silmaria’s neck still as he plowed into her, his cock throbbing as the wet grip of the Gnari’s pussy swallowed him up, squeezing and pulsing around the bloated length of his meat.
He held there, for a moment, as both of them stood still, awash in that moment of shared shock and pleasure. “You’re mine, Silmaria. Mine,” he growled.
“Yes,” she gasped through his hold on her throat. Then, as he began to thrust and fuck into her, she screamed, “Yes, Master, yours! I am yours!”
Rael reveled in the pleasure of her. Her absolute yielding of control, her total, blissful surrender. He held her pinned beneath him and pounded into her. He gave her what she desired. What she needed. She craved dark pleasure, she said, and clearly needed a hand able to clutch with a firm and decisive grip.
He was all too willing to be that hand.
He drove his hips down into her upturned ass, pounding her eager little cunt. His cock pistoned in again and again in long, deep, punishing thrusts that left her wailing and whining. He near crushed her beneath him, his weight pressing down on her. His hand gripped her neck as she gasped and choked, writhing in response to his abuse.
Soon Silmaria was thrusting back into him desperately. Her tail lashed, wild and flailing as the Gnari bounced her pussy against his groin, trying to get the fat length of Rael’s cock deeper and harder. Rael savaged her, his cock drilling into her welcoming, drooling cunt, spreading her inner walls around his invading meat as the sex starved woman pressed down before him trembled, her thighs shaking.
“Oh gods, Master, oh that hurts so fucking good!” she screamed, her back arching against him as she came. Rael grunted, his muscles working tirelessly as he grit his teeth through the wildly spasming contractions of Silmaria’s orgasming cunt. Her pussy milked and squeezed and pulsed as she screamed and cried her release, cumming in a gushing squirt that splashed wetly down her taut, shapely thighs and puddled on the cold stone ground.
Silmaria was in heaven. She was on her belly, her ass hiked up in the air with her pussy split to gaping while she came all over herself like the shameless slut she was. There was a powerful hand around her throat, controlling her, gripping her tight and making her breathing come out in short, sputtering gasps.
As she came, the grip tightened. And when she came a second time, it tightened again. Her head was starting to get fuzzy, that haziness around the edge of everything. Her pulse was pounding in her ears and her temples, and everything was both indistinct and extremely focused all at once. It was thrilling. It was wickedly erotic. The huge cock pounding away into her stuffed pussy hurt just right, and she was being used and abused in the kind of way that made her cum hardest. She reveled in it, wallowed in it, glorified in her own wretchedly devious sexuality.
And above it all, best of all, most amazingly gratifying and delightful of all… it was Rael. Master Rael. The man she had grown to love above all things.
The thought resonated in her head, in that fuzzy yet sharp sort of focus that everything was taking right then. It was enough to make her give another strangled cry and cum all over again.
Lord Rael was fucking her. His magnificent cock was lodged punishingly in her belly, driving in over and over past her clenching, contracting muscles. She was under him, her body servicing him, just as she wanted, just as she was meant to.
For Silmaria, the mountain and the old god’s storm and the assassins and the whole world could be damned. Nothing else mattered.
At last, she was where she belonged.
Rael ran his fingers tenderly through Silmaria’s thick tumble of black curls. Her hair was a tangled, unwashed wreck from weeks on the road, and it was still beautiful to him.
“We can’t stay here,” he said quietly as his fingertips traced one of the delicate triangular ears atop her head.
Silmaria slowly raised her head, her pursing lips stretching along, and her skilled tongue pressing firmly to the underside of Rael’s half erect cock all the way. She sucked firmly, her lips catching on the rim of his bulbous cockhead, and finally coming free with a wet pop.
Though she couldn’t quite get enough of the heady taste of her cunt and his cum mingled on his flesh, Silmaria was satisfied that he was clean enough for now. She looked up at him, into his eyes, meeting them slowly. Then she let out a soft sigh. She leaned down, pressing her forehead into his hip.
“It’s too early for you to be reading my mind already,” she complained half-heartedly. “We’ve only just started this and you’re already plucking thoughts from my head.”
Rael chuckled, one hand resting atop the Gnari’s head as she nuzzled into his hip. The girl settled there, with no sign of moving. As she seemed content, he lay back, staring at the way the flames from their small fire played tag with the shadows on the cave ceiling, light and dark chasing one another around the hanging spires of stalactites overhead.
“Our supplies won’t last. The meat from the bear is going to be inedible soon, and we’re running out of firewood again. The longer we stay here, the more we are betting against disaster.”
“I know,” Silmaria admitted. “It was just nice to… I don’t know. To have a day, or two, to just… be. Without traveling. Without the storm. Without you being almost dead.”
His hand cupped her cheek. Gentle. Kind. His thumb brushing along her cheek. The same hand that had been roughly choking her just moments before touched her with more patient tenderness than she’d ever known. It was such a strange and startling contrast, and all the more perfect to her because of it.
“I love you, Silmaria,” he said.
She looked up at him then, her bright green eyes staring up at him. He returned her gaze, and his eyes spoke more than those simple words ever could. They spoke of love in a way that no words could convey. He had seen her as she was. Her darkness. Her depravity. Her insatiable lusts and needs. Even when she was not in her Stirring, she had become so accustomed to the rampant demands of her sexuality and the wicked touches she craved that at times, it was hard to separate when she was out of control and when she simply embraced it all.
Master Rael saw every last bit of her. And there was no judgment in his eyes. No glimmer of loathing or hesitance. Only the all too rare love of a man who loves honest and true, with all of a very generous heart.
And more. He was unafraid of taking her. Of using her. Of giving her the hard, rough hand she craved and needed. Nor was he afraid of claiming her. She wished to surrender to him all of herself, to give all of herself in a way most men did not understand.
And he didn’t falter.
Tears pricked her eyes. Silmaria turned her face into the crooked of his thigh, brushing her tears on his pale skin.
“Thank you, Master. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for your goodness. And for your acceptance. Even more, thank you. For loving me in a way I can understand.”
As always, thank you to all my readers for your supportive comments and critiques and all the encouraging words sent my way.
So, as is probably evident at this point, there will be more sex than has previously been featured, for some obvious reasons. Some of my readers are going to be totally thrilled by this, and some less so. The flip side of the readers who were thrilled while others were less so when sex was scant and plot was the star.
Both kinds of fans should, I am hopeful, continue to enjoy this ongoing tale. Sex will be more prevalent. But plot, character, and other key features that have been strong in this story thus far will continue to shine and be featured strongly. I think everyone who has been very supportive and enjoyed this story thus far will continue to.
Thanks again everyone, and keep coming back for more, it’ll be on the way soon!
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/novels/darkfyre-chapter-seventeen.aspx">DarkFyre Chapter Seventeen</a>