Amethystra Pt. 04

"Of course," she said, smirking salaciously.

The pair enjoyed a light dinner together, and Felia told him stories that she could recall from her homeland, distant Silvrein, and the small unmapped village that was called, simply, Home by its residents. She told him what she could remember of the capital city, also named Silvrein, and the Palace of the Silver Princess, which was like a shining jewel set against a backdrop of foreboding, whitecap mountains, and was visible from nearly every village along the rolling plains of Silvrein.

She realized, eventually, that his attention had wandered, though. She watched as his hand seemed to drift of its own accord to a spot on his jacket, likely where something important was tucked into a breast pocket. "Have I bored you?" she asked, genuinely curious about what was on his mind.

"Not at all," he said, smiling. "I apologize. There is a chance that I may make a life-altering decision come morning."

"Adventure?" she asked, a hopeful grin on her face. Quilin returned it, glad for her cheer.

"A great one, I hope," he said.

"Then let us be done with this place. If this may be our last chance to be together, then I would make the most of it."

Quilin seemed momentarily stuck in time at her words. They locked eyes, her silver pools of cheer and mirth bound to his gray-blue stormclouds. He nodded, and time resumed, catching them up in a rush of needful activity. Felia took him by the hand and veritably dragged him from the Wanton Whimsy. Through avenues, cutting into alleys, weaving between midnight merchants, and finally barreling to a long, rising road that would take them to the base of the Violet Tower, Felia had enough magic about her to finish their journey with the snap of a finger.

Their world lurched, space and time warping around them before reassembling itself in a new location, under the full moon and overlooking the city of Amethystra from a not-so-distant hilltop. From there, they could see the silver light of the moon scattered by the haze of the late night fog settling in. Above the city, the giant skyship from Valuar hovered motionless, tethered by some unseen magic. The Violet Tower nearly eclipsed her sister, the Tower of the Crimson Hawk, from where they stood.

"What is this place?" Quilin asked.

"I used to come here frequently when my father was travelling. I was several years younger, then, and have not visited so much recently. It was a gift from one of Archmage Shandra's subordinates that allows me to teleport here from the base of the Violet Tower. He used to catch me standing there, staring toward this hill like my soul was meant for it."

"It is a beautiful view," Quilin said.

Felia nodded. "More than that. There is something here that I lost touch with, but something meant for me, I feel. Perhaps it is what drew me here from Home. From Silvrein."

Quilin smiled. She knew he was unaware of what she was talking about. Perhaps he could never understand the feeling she felt when she was here. Even now, it was tickling at the edges of her consciousness, calling to her...

She put her hands on Quilin's chest, pressing into him and kissing between his pectoral muscles, the skin bared by the low cut of his shirt's collar.

"Take me," she said. "Here. Where I am most at home. Where I can let down all of my guard."

"I brought no oil," Quilin said, for he and Felia had a very specific ritual when it came to lovemaking.

"You won't need it tonight," she said, her East Ayros accent as fluid as it was coarse. The implication sent a thrill through Quilin, whose mental calculations quickly deduced what Felia wanted.

"Are you sure?" he asked. The tiefling nodded, biting her lip. Though she had lain with him many times, she had never allowed him to take her maidenhead, though Felia had often fantasized about giving it to him. Throughout Ayros, there were many belief systems and even magical practices that derived power from the maidenhead--both in its preservation, and in its sacrifice. For some, it was a most powerful sacrifice, on par with mortal sacrifice. For others, the preservation of virginity, not strictly in women, was a source of power in and of itself. In Silvrein, as with Amethystra, virginity was not heralded as a sacred virtue or a source of power, but for Felia, who had been raised by a rare sect of Coetians, her virginity had been both a source of magical power, and the key to unlocking her deepest fonts of magic.

The only variable, for her, was how it would affect her chosen mate. Quilin was a noble man, she knew, and that was of high value to her. He was not, himself, a virgin, which chagrined the young tiefling sorceress, but she felt his other virtues would make him a suitable mate for the ritual. Of course, Quilin had no concept of what she was about to do, nor any clue about her teachings and beliefs. That didn't matter, Felia had decided when she first began courting the half-elf. He was, after all, the child of two divinely-touched beings, and bore within him the divine essence of two deities she was aware of.

"I have never been more certain. It can only be you, Quilin Torvirr," she said softly, her lips brushing against his chest as she spoke. She looked up at him and he held her face in his hands as he kissed her. Despite the momentous occasion she was putting herself in, that gesture above all else made her skin tingle with excitement, her blood quicken, and her body flush with need. Magic danced along her fingertips as she touched his belt. It disappeared, along with his trousers, into a pocket-plane. The cantrip was one of the many minor tricks she had learned growing up in Silvrein, and now she was exceedingly grateful for it. She dismissed his tunic as well, leaving him stark naked.

"You know," Quilin said, "there is some art to undressing your lover. Like the opening of a gift."

Felia held up her hand so he could see the magical charge vanishing. As her eyes roamed over his fit physique and exhilarating manhood, she bit her lip and shrugged her right shoulder. "Then unwrap your prize, lover. Show me your art."

He stepped forward slowly, his lips immediately seeking the soft stretch of her neck. She bent her head to the side, yielding the tender, sensitive flesh to his questing kiss, and nearly melted as she felt his hands exploring the dress clinging to her body. He untied here and there, tugged just so, and at the gentle guidance of his hands, she lowered her arms that the entire garment could simply fall into a pool at her feet.

Quilin's hands took her by the hips, his thumbs pressed into the apex of her hip bones, and he guided her out of the pool of clothing, into soft grass, where he guided her down to her knees, then onto her back. Felia felt her breathing wither into a shallow, excited panting as he hovered over her, kissing her lips softly, fully, and coaxed tiny whimpers from her throat as his tongue swept past her lips. She turned her head to the side again as he kissed her neck, tasting her throat and feeling her quickened pulse with his lips as he laid atop her, hovering between her thighs. She could feel his manhood so close to her vulnerable sex, though he never let his member touch her mound. Instead, his lips moved further down, tracing a familiar path between her breasts, then to both nipple, teasing each one with the tip of his tongue before suckling it fully. He continued on, kissing her sternum, her abdomen, around her navel before teasing the sensitive portal with his tongue.

Felia felt his hands grasp the back of her thighs and she responded automatically, lifting her legs up and out to make room for his shoulders as he kissed the silvery tuft of hair framing her pussy. He inhaled her scent, tickling the soft hairs with his kisses as she dug her heels into his muscular upper back. She was smiling as she bit her lip, bracing herself for the ensuing oral onslaught.

Quilin did not disappoint. His tongue dove into her sex, parting her petals and slashing between them like a ravenous serpent, thirsty for her quim. Her hips clenched and her body arched immediately. The pleasure was overwhelming; it always was when Quilin Torvirr's mouth was involved. Felia grasped her own breasts, squeezing them firmly as her skin began to tingle with both bliss and the unique expulsion of magical energies when ecstasy began to overtake her.

"Quil," she squeaked out, pinching one nipple as her hand slid down to grasp his hair. She held onto him tightly as his tongue lashed her sensitive clitoris, swirling precisely around exactly where Felia needed it. Her body bucked with orgasm, and silver light began to dance from her body in arcs.

"My moon-star," Quilin said, looking up at Felia with glistening lips curled in a smile. "More?"

"Evermore," Felia said, tugging his hair. Quilin complied eagerly--Felia always adored the vigor with which he indulged her. This time, his tongue paid more heed to her deepest loins, thrusting into her as far as the muscle could, then slithering out, up along her slit, all the way to her clitoris before delving into her once more. He grasped the backs of her knees, pressing them forward and effectively folding the lavender-skinned tiefling in half. She felt completely open to him now, and she could feel that vulnerability exploited in the way his face pressed against her pussy, his tongue delving deep and swirling around inside her before sliding back up to her sensitive pearl.

When he finally focused his efforts strictly on her clit, Felia was more than ready to release her ecstasy, and great coronal ejections of silver arced from her body, bursting into the air in a shower of sparks.

By the time those sparks fizzled out, leaving a silvery haze all around them, Quilin was kneeling between her thighs, holding her feet to his chest as he stroked her calves and thighs. She was beaming with pleasure, looking up at him from between her knees as he kissed the soles of her feet. The sensation was not so thrilling as the look on his face was, the look of abject adoration and desire.

Felia pulled her feet from his chest and wrapped them around her waist. She reached down and filled her hand with his manhood, then tugged with her heels to pull him atop her.

"Take me," she said. "I am ready."

Quilin's eyes locked with hers. She was so lost in them, in that pregnant moment, that she didn't feel his manhood pressing against her pussy, even though she held it gently in her hand. He pressed forward and the ache of his penetration caught her by surprise. She let go of him, her hands grasping at his back, inadvertently clawing at his flesh, as the pain of her maidenhead surrendering to his manhood eclipsed all else.

And then, there was naught but pleasure. She could feel her body taking him in, could feel the surge of magical power suffusing her body as he rooted himself in her loins. She clung to him, feet and hands digging into his muscles as she tried to fuse her body to his in that singular potent moment.

"Quil!" she gasped, her voice thin and weak, though the desperation rang clear even in her own ears. "Quil!"

"Are you hurt?" Quilin asked, alarm in his eyes. They locked their gaze together again, and in that moment, she knew, Quilin understood the momentous occasion that he was a part of, and that Felia had never been so perfectly whole in all her life. He smiled, kissing her, their tongues swirling together with abandon as his body began to undulate, thrusting into her, jolting her with his powerful manhood.

"More," Felia whimpered, pulling his face against hers, holding her lips against his ear so he could hear every pleasured gasp, every ecstatic moan, and every desperate word. "I am yours, Quilin."

He held her tight, snaking one muscular arm under her body to hold her tight against him. He planted his other hand firmly in the grass beside her head so as not to crush her beneath his bulk, but Felia was clinging to him so mightily that as he lifted his torso up, she came with him. In advertently, Quilin sat up on his knees, Felia wrapped around him, and they bathed in the moonlight as his thrusting came to a halt.

"I could live within you," he said against her chest. His cock throbbed within her, and the pulsations were a very tangible, and very thrilling, sensation. "Forever inside you."

Felia heard the words, but the way he felt inside her was too damnably blissful to respond. She clutched his face to her chest, to her bosom, and as his pulsed mightily within her, she cried out and shuddered, climaxing without a movement from her powerful lover. She pressed her face into his hair, murmuring and whimpering in ecstasy as the shuddering orgasm waned.

"Truly?" Quilin asked.

"You feel so good," she breathed, laughing awkwardly as she tried to catch her breath. "I want you in me. I want your seed in me, Quilin."

The half-elf licked his lips, kissing her dewy flesh as he laid her back down. He pressed his forehead against hers, and Felia felt her body opening up to him again. Her legs spread wide, wrapping around his waist as he thrust deep into her. Their eyes never broke contact, even as his face tensed and contorted in pleasure. She rode her own orgasm as he pulsed more powerfully than she'd ever felt before, and that blissful release was amplified as she felt his seed flowing in powerful streams into her, over and again, filling her deepest core with a demigod's essence.

"Gods," she said as she went limp suddenly. "I have never felt so complete in my life, Quilin."

The half-elf smiled, kissing her eyelids in a show of the purest intimacy, and slowly began to withdraw himself.

"No!" she cried out, and her lover laughed as she pulled him back in, locking him in place with surprisingly strong legs. "Just...stay there. Until it falls out. Please?"

"Of course, but it will be your ass that pays when I grow erect again," Quilin said. His tone implied whimsy, but Felia's answering expression was wholly serious.

"Pray that it does, Quilin, so you can take it out on me," she purred.

The half-elf looked back at her with a look of astonishment and excitement before making himself comfortable atop her. She inhaled his scent, the masculinity of his sweat, the lurid scent of their lovemaking, and the earthy scent of wet grass and soil beneath them.

A few moments later, she thought she was going to suffocate from his bulk atop her, but before she could make her discomfort known, Quilin rolled her over, and she found herself mounting the young warrior.

And his cock was quite hard.

Iliari had been desperately avoiding both Wolfe and Ravin throughout the duration of the revel. After her indulgence with Luriia, and the profound discovery that the gifted naelf had given her afterward, the last thing Iliari needed was to be around the massive warrior who had impregnated her.

Cyra, her wife, was preoccupied with Lidia Lovedrake, but that didn't stop the high elf from being insistent with her affections. Though Lidia had just learned that the great Alluvamethystra had perished in her old age, she seemed bright and happy to be with friends, so Iliari felt no shame in unabashedly flirting with her wife. And Cyra, her robust dragonkin bride, seemed smitten with the affection.

At the end of the night, Iliari couldn't deny a sensation of lustfulness for her red-skinned warrior-wife. She had been groping the woman's firm buttocks all night, and she had forced herself to break away from the woman multiple times, as Cyra's presence was sweltering thanks to the fire in her blood, and even Iliari caught herself beginning to glisten with perspiration.

With the guests dissipating, sneaking away with one another in pairs, trios, and small groups for their own romantic liaisons, Iliari found her mind filled with lurid images of all the beautiful people scattered across beds, couches, and such like, in various stages of undress, undulating with each other in sexual ecstasy. So lost was she in her thoughts, that she hadn't noticed her hot-blooded wife disappearing as well, and Lidia was nowhere in sight either.

So Iliari did what any reasonable elf would do when her buxom, voracious wife went missing. She went on a hunt. Hands flat on the front of her black gown, she wandered the hallways of House Torvirr. She could hear the sounds of lovemaking throughout the halls containing private rooms--even those rooms designated for other uses had been turned into private lovemaking dens. Now and again, she would peak into a room to see what was going on. Iliari needed no subterfuge, nor spyhole to do so. Instead, she tore off a small square of black silk from her gown, placed it on the door, and began to spread the fabric out by its corners. As her fingertips touched the smooth, soft material, tiny tendrils of shadow latched onto the threads and infused them with magic. The product was a one-way window, providing Iliari the means to peer into the room without being noticed from the other side of the portal.

At her first room, she understood that her subjects would likely never notice a full-sized window suddenly appearing in the door anyway. A man was on his side, one leg propped up while a woman, her head between his slim thighs, slathered his genitals with her long--likely magically enhanced--tongue. Between them, a third woman had her face buried between the other's thighs, licking at her nethers while the man devoured her in kind.

Iliari smirked. A lovely sight to behold, for certain, but not what she truly wanted.

The next door that earned her attention brought with it a symphony of cries, gasps, and hard impact sounds. She stretched her shadow portal across the door again to see a man bent over a long, ornate table--likely a dining table of some sort--while a tall, large-breasted woman with deep red flesh and long, ornate horns whipped him mercilessly. Her spade tail flicked with every lash of her whip.

At first, Iliari thought a succubus had snuck her way into Amethystra, despite powerful wards to prevent such an incident. But as her shadow portal fully fruited, its secondary enchantment activated, revealing a rather haggard-looking, elderly woman wearing a magical pendant. It likely was the reason she appeared to be a towering succubus, she reasoned. As the "succubus" shifted, Iliari saw a profound phallus jutting from her hips, strapped to her body with a leather harness.

Swiftly, Iliari swiped away the silk cloth, closing the shadow portal and quickly walking down the hall, a grin on her angular face. Her arousal was waxing, cresting to a pinnacle that she would be hard-pressed to deal with on her own. She hoped to find her wife soon, lest she be forced to engage in sub-standard activities.

She turned a corner, walking face-first into Wolfe. The giantborn man barely shifted as her nose smashed against his stomach, and she was reminded of precisely how rigidly muscular the warrior was. More than that, catching sight of this very large man reminded her of their rendezvous outside of the Temple of the Black Bride--and the revelation Luriia had given her scant hours ago.

She was pregnant, and it had been Wolfe Stormgrin's seed that had taken root in her.

"Moonshadow," Wolfe said, smiling. "Well met."

"And you, Wolfe," she said politely. She was flustered, agitated. Something about Wolfe's presence prevented her from moving, though. He was an impassable wall--or a mountain, more aptly. "I trust the revel treated you well."

"Aye," he said, nodding. She could feel him looking down on her, likely at her forehead, because she had not yet raised her eyes to his face. "All of Amethystra has. Your Barbarian King has granted my comrade and I a base of operations."

"That is good," Iliari said. "Hammer is a generous man. I am unsurprised."

"Is everything alright with you, Moonshadow?"