Elven Lust


Side by side, they cast their spells. One, an elven cleric, intent on curing the world's wounds. The other, a drow wizard, driven to learn everything there is to know. Brought together by circumstance in a region riddled with perils, kept together by feelings neither can identify, nor can they deny. Together, they battle fierce monsters, terrifying giants, and powerful creatures from other planes, while trying to carve out a niche of peace. Together, they submit to urges more powerful than any enemy they've faced.

Tylia casts a healing spell as the last giant falls from Darliss's scorching wall of flame. Now that the fight is over, the battle done, they can tend the wounded, loot the chests, and return to Thunder Vale, the only haven in this harsh land for hundreds of leagues.

As they enter the Thunder Vale Inn, Tylia calls to the serving girl tending the patrons. The delicate elf requests a hot bath be drawn, to wash away the grime of travel and battle. The serving girl hurries away, eager to please the beautiful cleric. Darliss orders their meals, and they sit to eat. They linger over their wine, conversing about today's battle, and possible improvements in their strategy. Finally, as the last light fades from the sky, and the windows grow dark, they go upstairs to their room, the way lighted by a glowing blue orb suspended inches above Darliss's hand. Upon entering the room, the drow utters an arcane verse, and all the candles in the room burst to life, filling the room with soft candlelight. The bath is cold, but then, they did stay downstairs longer than expected. With another word, a brief flash comes from inside the tub, and steam begins to rise from the surface of the water.

When she senses he is done, Tylia leans into Darliss, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him, embracing him fiercely for a moment, then easing up, until she is merely holding him. In return, he wraps his arms around her, and rubs her back gently, trying to comfort her.

"You should have stayed with me on the ledge, not running out with the fighters to battle our enemy," she scolds, though there is warmth in her eyes.

"I'll not let those brutes claim all the glory for our victory," Darliss states. "Besides, I thought it safer down there with them than staying beside you, after the comment I made about your mother. Which, I will remind you, was said in jest."

"I know it was," she replies, a mischievous grin on her face. "I just wanted to make sure you knew your place." With that, she breaks the embrace, and begins to remove her garments, preparing for the bath.

"I know my place well, female," he says, placing his hands atop hers to stop her movements. "You need not remind me by thumping me upon the head with my own staff." But there is no anger in his words, and he smiles as he looks upon her. "By the gods, you are beautiful, and I am lucky to have stumbled upon you."

Slowly, he turns her around to face him, and leans in close to press his lips to hers. As they kiss, he slowly unbuttons her tunic, then pushes it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her breathing quickens as he pulls her close, and her heart beat rises when he breaks the kiss only to move to her delicately pointed ear and begins to nibble gently on it. A fire seems to ignite inside her, and she unties the belt to his robe. Having done that, she opens the robe and slides her hands inside across his dark skin and lightly grazes her fingernails down his back, sending shivers up his spine. She too slides his garment off his shoulders, and he releases her, one arm at a time, to shrug out of it completely. Now they both stand there in only their breeches, gently holding each other while their hands ceaselessly roam over the others body, searching out and finding the soft skin, the hard, flowing muscles of a chest, the full curves of a breast. Slowly, gently, he turns her back to the goose down bed, and (with an arm behind her to support), eases her down upon it.

Darliss now returns to her ear, to lightly nibble on it before planting a row of light kisses along her neck, on his way to her delicate collarbone, which he kisses across, then up the other side of her neck to her ear. He then kisses his way along her jaw to her mouth, where once again he kisses her deeply and passionately. He runs his hand along her side, lightly, occasionally causing her to giggle at his delicate touch. Then he grazes her breast with his hand, and begins to trace ever smaller circles with his finger, slowly spiraling inward towards her rigid nipple. Once there, he gently rubs it between thumb and forefinger, causing it to become even harder. Giving her lips a final kiss, he slowly makes his way down, until he takes her nipple between his lips and begins to lightly suckle at it. Meanwhile, he has moved his other hand to the opposite breast, which he begins to manipulate with his deft fingers. At one breast, he suckles and gently bites, and flicks the sensitive nipple with his tongue, while he gently twists and pulls the other one, drawing ever increasing moans from his lover.

A pulse of heat shoots through her as he touches her breast, and the sensitive aureole, and she feels a desire for him not felt for any other. As he manipulates and teases, she runs her dainty hands through his hair, pressing him closer to her chest, and lightly drags her nails across this strong back, occasionally scratching harder as a particularly intense bolt of sensation courses through her small frame. He has started a fire deep within her, one that can be quenched with neither water nor magic, but can only be satisfied by increasing attentions. She can tell his desire is rising as well, and judging by the rigidness she feels in his breeches, it is a desire to match her own. She lets out a moan of desire and longing as she feels his hand slowly creeping down to the drawstring of her breeches, which he undoes quickly. He stops his manipulation of her breast to gently, but quickly, rid her of the rest of her clothing.

There she lay on the mattress, bare, in all her beautiful glory. She hides nothing from him, and he loves her for it. He slowly begins to slid his hands up her leg, from her ankles up to the juncture of her thighs, then back down to her knees. He lets his fingers dance over her smooth, soft skin, once again teasing. He tickles the inside of her thighs, and she almost chokes on a giggle that transforms into a moan when she feels his lips replace his fingers. Light butterfly kisses travel their way from her knee, up her thigh, then stop short of the place where she wants to feel it the most, the source of the fire. He switches, and does the same thing to her other thigh, then begins licking her upper thigh and the crease where they join her body. The fire builds higher and higher, until she can no longer stand it, and as just she opens her mouth to tell him, demand him, to beg him, she feels his tongue part her outer lips and taste her sweetness. A light touch, barely began, yet she arches her back as a lightening bolt shoots throughout her body, and her toes curl to the point of pain. Yet she notices not, for the sensations he gives her block out everything else.

Now he begins in earnest, and opens her flower with one hand while his tongue lightly flicks the super sensitive nub near the top, and his other hand enters her most sacred of places, and she would have it no other way. Well...... maybe. But for now, she delights in the feelings she experiences. She now has her hands twined in his long, flowing hair, and is almost pressing him further into her flower. He continues to flick the nub, while occasionally sucking on it, and his fingers keep a steady rhythm, even when her hips begin to rise off the bed, although he does begin to pick up the pace. Now she is pressing him to her, and pulling his hair as well. And as her hands curl into fists, a second bolt, more intense than the first, courses through her, so intense she can no longer endure his attentions in that manner. By the hair she hauls him up, face to face, and whispers in a breathy voice, "Now. I need it now!"

Not wanting to disappoint, he obeys, and after placing his rod at the opening of her flower, slides in with one graceful movement. Once again, to her amazement, she feels a slightly less intense sensation run its way through her. He waits patiently for her to become accustomed to him, enjoying the feeling of being engulfed in her silky folds. Once her body relaxes, he sense he can begin, and starts a rhythm he can keep up for hours. But the fire inside cannot be denied, and she wants more. She wants it all, now, she will have it. In one swift motion, she rolls him onto his back, and rides upon him as if he were a magnificent stallion. Up and down, she rides, occasionally stopping to grind down upon him. He reaches up to play with her nipples, gently at first, but with more intensity as he feels her dig her nails into his thigh. He twists and pulls, and she moans louder each time. She is flying up and down, lost in the feelings. Then, just as suddenly as before, she lays down on him and rolls over, putting him on top again. He knows the moment is soon, as she claws his back to the point of drawing blood. And then, then fire flares, and she goes rigid, perfectly still. He feels her contract around him, and it is too much for him to bare. He thrusts deep and holds it there, emptying his seed into her flower, and feels her contract again. They remain locked like that for many long seconds, until the strength finally leaves his arms and he collapses atop of her. Many more minutes pass before he withdraws himself from her, and gazes upon her.

To his amazement, she is fast asleep, having spent all her energy. He positions her correctly on the bed, lays down next to her, and kisses her forehead.

"Sleep well, my love," he whispers fondly, then follows her to the land of dreams.

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