In Her Blood

And I have one more than I expected. I have four today waiting for me.

Four women, fallen silent before me and my presence. I feel it wash it over me. It infuses my soul, that feeling of beautiful attention. They look at me in awe and I bask in it. It's doing so much to the changing form I take. I smile and they flinch before returning the gesture. Anything I do will pull that bit of startled reaction. I could show up with gold and jewels and wine promising even more and they still would shy away.

"I assure you," I say, "My wounds have healed by now."

The Draoidh swallows and the others giggle. I move languidly and set myself down in my chair. The tall one hurries to get me a cup of wine. I appreciate it. I pat my lap and gesture to my new friend to come here. She looks to the others and gathers the courage she needs. Tucking a stray lock of chestnut hair behind her ear, she inches over to me, sitting on my thigh.

That alone, that weight of another person is heavenly. The battle, the commander, the threats of violence all slip away. I have no more threats to carry out. I have a cup of wine in my hand now and its bearer gets a nice firm, open palm to her ass. She shivers and gasps and joins the others.

"What's your name, my little lambkin," I purr through the lovely haze in my throat.

"Annalise, Gaisgeach," she whispers, "If it pleases you."

"There's no need for any titles here, Annalise. Have my usual retainers introduced themselves to you?"

She nods.

"She was much more talkative before you came in Finn," says the redhead, Lilith.

"Questions, questions and more questions," says the blonde, Dyna, "Barely enough time to weave in answers between them."

The final one, the black-haired one, Maria, sighs and takes over the wine duty. We all need a bit of that in us, loosen the tongues, set the heat, start everything moving. She is not the talkative one at the best of times.

All in all, these three are some of the best reasons I stay with this particular front. Other generals, other Ceannards, other Gaisgeachs even, but I am here with a little bonus. They are here to keep me in line, really. A leash and chain, carrot and stick all rolled into one. Maria hands out the wine and readies the other bit of their combined efforts. I can't keep the grimace from my lips. Annalise is scared of that.

"Don't be scared, little lambkin," I whisper to her, "I'm not angry at you. There's just a terrible little needle to deal with."

She whimpers a bit as my hands circle her shoulders. She's shaking. But she stays. Maria digs in the case and pulls said needle, filled with forest green shimmer. I grit my teeth as my core clenches. It is terrible, that little poke and dose of green. The fire in me revolts and the inevitable quench.

"Tell me," I say, "What answers did you get from them?"

"That you tend to fall asleep right afterwards and you snore rather loud," she says. Dyna laughs and Lilith hides everything behind her cup. I glare at them, and they give no fear. Fair. I have no reason to believe they are lying.

"Then tell me, what did you know before your questions."

"That this is to keep you calm. That this is supposed to keep your urges in check. In order to make sure you are fighting as you should."

"So I don't rampage through the camp like a mad beast? So I don't break that thin case of sanity like a rabid dog? So I don't decide that my talents are best used outside the confines of civilized warfare?"

She stiffens and freezes. My other companions keep laughing.

"Don't listen to her Anna," says Lilith, "her bark is worse than her bite."

"Please, we all know why all of you are here," I say.

"We're paid very well."

"And?"

"And you are a much more entertaining client than flabby nobles and unwashed soldiers."

I will take all of that as a compliment. I'm not the one who pays them, but they are paid to be here. But they keep deciding to be here. I know why, even if they do not want to admit it.

"I knew that part of your treatment," says Annalise, "But I also wanted to see the actual process with the solutions injected."

"Sure, you did," says Maria, "Finn, take off your coat and hold out your arm. That'll give us all a bit to prepare while it works through you."

"Last chance, my little lambkin," I whisper, "If you want to preserve your sanity."

"Finn, please, you're scaring her. But Anna, she's not entirely wrong. You know what's going to happen after we stick her. No judgement if you want in on that or not," says Dyna, "We told you what's going to happen. And you saw what weapons she has on her."

Dyna says that last bit with a giggle. I rock my hips a bit and Annalise can certainly feel what her eyes kept drifting to this afternoon. I don't blame her. I would stare too. I am getting excited and when I get excited other people tend to get excited.

Annalise takes a long moment to consider the consequences of her choices. Curiosity, apprehension, lust, I can feel it all slipping through her like warm oil and perfume. She is aroused. She feels me through her body. She knows and believes and comes to her conclusions about what is going to happen. She can leave here with those imagined realities and carry out her life with the calm assuredness of what is true. Or she can stay and find out how wrong she is.

She stares me down, some small spark of defiance in her burning as bright as a star. Annalise darts forwards and presses her lips to mine, lightly. Tenderly. Quickly. She pulls away like I am about to bite her throat out.

I snap forward and take my teeth to her lip, just enough pressure to let her know that the fears could be a reality. I pull and go back up, pushing my tongue into her mouth, wrestling her own and intertwining us. I swirl and turn, humming some sweet song of maddening desire for her and her thoughts. She shudders and I feel a heat rise from between her thighs. I grin through her as I continue my feast of her lips. She shivers and squirms and grinds and mashes all of her intent into me, given freely and taken viciously. Her moans some forgotten curse of me and my kin. I don't care. I have a hand on her chest, rolling her tit back and forth under me. She moves with it. She is on fire.

I break with a wide smirk on my face. Annalise just collapses on my chest and starts shivering with abandon. Maria rolls her eyes and gestures to my arm. My first round of fun is over. I have more to do. The crook of my elbow is presented, and she slowly approaches with the needle giving a single bead of emerald oil. Its noxious sting affronts my nose. Its unsightly gleam insults my eyes. Its evil existence offends my sensibilities. I still look away as Maria finds her point of entry.

A sharp pinch and it goes into my vein. My other hand squeezes tight into Annalise's ass, once again turning white knuckle. She gasps and screams out for aid. There is none here. We have begun in earnest.

"One last chance," I whisper in her ear, "to walk away from this. I won't be mad. No one will be."

Her answer is a low bestial mewl carried through her crotch. She starts rocking her hips on her thighs. She's gone. She's infected and infectious. Heat and haze and swirling smoke trails in my wake, slowly entering the rest of the room's lungs. They take in the scent and feel the instincts take over. Maria is closest and carefully puts the needle away. One last bit of careful reason. The needle has no place here. One last bit of care as she presses a fresh bandage into the beading blood in my arm. She doesn't need to. The blood will steam away, and the wound will close with only a passing moment. I appreciate it. She's the most tolerant of the haze and that has landed her this little position.

The others are less strong in their constitution. Dyna and Lilith are already looking to one another with a ravenous gaze. Never quite figured out where they land on the scale of attracted targets, but they often start and end our play with one another. I don't mind. I like it. I wish they would involve me more with their wind down, but I hate to intrude.

I go back to playing my tongue against Annalise. She tastes good. She tastes warm. I feel her heartbeat turn her cheeks apple red. She tastes eager as I work in my tongue. She shivers again and imparts her excitement into me. It helps spread the green poison faster and faster, driving an odd perfumery slick through my body. It's slipping and effervescent. It's out of control and sluggish. Each of my own pulses lets the venom spread farther and farther. It changes the urges, dulls them and blunts them and chips them. I hold Annalise's hips in my hands and move her to face me entirely. She gets the first little taste between her legs. She rides the shape, moving her hips along the length. That brings her out of the haze for a second.

"I didn't think it would be like that," she whispers through me.

Its pain. It's the same pain I felt as the ax bit in my flesh, as the arrows dented my plate, as each step drove splinters and blades deeper into me. It hurts with each pulse of my heart. It hurts as it pushes against the rough leather of my trousers. It hurts and there is the tantalizing glimpse of freedom.

The first step is a bit crude. I take my hand and rip her shirt open because I think it should be that way.

"Brute," she whispers to me. Not wrong, in a sense, but not nearly right enough either. She is slim, petite, suggestion of curves and circles and lines bleeding into one another. Enough to roll and play and grip and squeeze. She is beautiful. I notice an odd birthmark on her shoulder. My hands go to it as the venom creeps up to my shoulder. Pain. I have pain and I am pain. I give me and I take it away. She doesn't look at me in my entirety. She looks at the shape growing beneath her and lifting her. I keep kissing her and she keeps her grinding on me.

The venom hits my neck, and everything goes tense and stiff and hard. Sore, it's all sore. It's all tense and cracking and snapping.

"Annalise's going first," I rumble. I hear the collective sigh come up from the others. Disappointed, but understanding. Not quite sure if that's the best way to go about it. The first one will be the worst, but she'll take it. She'll take it all and thank me for the opportunity as she curses whatever hell I came from. Annalise shivers again as one more little pulse carries her body up and over the edge. Three or four or five of those from my touch alone and she is lost to me. That wonderful thought sparks ignition heat in me.

One sharp rip and I am through the leather. Annalise climaxes in full as the sharp punch rattles up her spine. Our audience heaves one last collective sigh as I stand, carrying our first recipient. I throw her to the bed and have her land safe and sound. One last glance at sanity. The venom oil is in my eyes, and it reaches the rest of my skull.

Rolling, my body is rolling inside out and upside-down like a snake shedding its skin. I tear at my clothes and they come away in tatters under my grip. Rips and tears and rends, my nails glance tender skin and break through it like paper. The blood steams away and the cuts heal in a moment. Soft and cool and burning and shifting like a sea. I drop into the turned-out shredded skin. I pounce and my bunk screams just as loud as Annalise.

I bury my face in her neck and breathe in her scent. Medicine and cotton and heat. She is burning. I am burning. I am ignition suicide under a heavy blanket. It dulls my senses. The green oil chains and throttles my inner hunger. Underwater, under molasses where everything is thick and slow. Nothing sharp. Nothing jagged, just atmospheric pressure tampering it down. The flames can only grow so high in the stagnant wind. I nip at her collar bone and her hands go to my back. They rip away at the tatters until I am naked in full. They go to my trousers and the others help me free. I move my hips in some frantic facsimile of what is needed. It's good, the soft feeling of her stomach, her hands pushing me away and pulling me closer. The play act isn't enough for either of us, but there is something to it, especially where her hands meet my shaft.

I pull away from the ravenous feast before me to gaze at nothing at all.

"She's gone," I hear something whisper, "look at her eyes."

It came from below me, I think. Something else mutters its own little acknowledgement of the fact. My eyes are in my head, so I don't think they're gone. I heft my length up and let it land heavily on a stomach. It reaches well past that invisible line to the torso, nestling in between a pair of slight breasts. They are soft too.

Hands on me and my chest as well. Not mine, but welcome. They work through the swelled mounds down to the hard muscle. Up and down, in gentle circles and burning grips. I wish they would go a bit harder, but I believe they are at the limit of their own movements. Such a shame. I want more. I need more and there is not anymore to give away. Such a terrible, crying shame where everything is wrong. I move my mammoth length up and down the stomach, feeling the heart beats carry through in echo and reverberation. I move, up and down, side to side, mashing any tingling sensation I can from the misalignment. The thought never occurs to me to change any orientation. I am where I should be, but it is not as it should. A pair of hands encircles the breasts I am using and pushes them tighter. That does help.

A clenched knot appears over my stomach and that is enough for me to start a pulse. Milky, thick, heavy seed from my tip, pooling in the base of her neck, falling like a river over the sides and puddling on the bed. The pulses match my heartbeat, my movements. More, my body is giving more and more and more and more with each passing moment. It's the slipping prelude to full contact and domination.

"You didn't mention she was a quick shot," the voice below me hums, not quite disappointed.

There's laughter behind me and I take that as a good sign. Laughter is always good. And it is light and dancing and swirling through the air. I laugh too, deep and dark as the bottom of the sea. It is good to laugh in my chest. I sigh and moan and keep moving, faster and faster, letting more of my preseed spill out and coat me. Heat, glorious, wonderful heat in my core. I am ember and flame. I am the depth of the mountain fires. I keep moving and feel one last little push in my stomach.

I pull away and give the heat room to breathe. I give the wonderful tent a survey of my rule. Three more behind me, worshiping form and function it all bleeds and collects and suffuses the throbbing veins. I am flexed and tense and ready to burst. The venom in my system keeps me calm. The venom alights my senses and holds me down like earthen shackles. I am made whole in the terrible prison of my body. I thrash against it and only pull a soft rattling of the bars. There's a pair of hands on my hips, oddly detached from it all, pulling me back and lining us up.

My first morsel is ready and moaning and trying to get me in as fast as possible. I savor it though, the dripping honeyed nectar and desire to breed, the way it flows and drips and sticks to my skin. The sensation alone is intoxication made effluvial. I am lost in the pull and damp push of her weeping entrance. She is eager and tense and hard for me., pulling her legs around my hips and fighting to keep me near her. I push and finally spear her through.

Her back arches in a resounding crack, hard enough to shatter diamond. Her scream breaks the cracks the resin of my imprisonment. I am vicious. I am ravenous. I am terror and horror combined. I am apocalypse now in the flesh and disaster forever ongoing. I thrust into her and spread her wide. She screams in protest at my insanity that I bring to us. Another one, down the list of what is happening, comforts her and strokes her cheek. As if that would fight the world I bring to her. Meteoric impacts and comet impulses the enormity of creation in a simple motion. She screams and her release splashes across my lap. I don't care. It only makes me harder. It only makes me faster. It only makes me better.

She is so far gone over the edge, fingers scrambling for a talon grip on reality. I am all she endures. I am all she can endure. I am everything to her.

I hit the wall and it is there. I am bursting in detonation like a siege. The wall is breaking down and I don't care. I have a moment of clarity with my head back and howling wordlessly to a silent sky.

The first real shot of my release burns and boils and fills her. The vessel screams and one more wave of release comes through her. I fill her with heavy seed. My seed. Again and again and again, pulses and shots flowing out back and pooling around my ankles. I feel it hit my chest as she is too full for anything else. I still give her more. Her stomach grows and rounds and rises from her. She screams louder and louder and louder as her body changes to accept me. She grows from my seed, already fecund and sloshing. I give her more. I have more. There is more.

I snap as something pulls at my hips and gets me out of the tight hole. It doesn't want to let go. It wants me deeper and deeper, through the entire body. I strike something and it jerks away. But the pressure I give is doing its job anyway. I am forced out from my own release. I move my hips and let it flow, falling down and coming to my shins.

I lay my length along the swell of my hole's belly, angled up and painting the far wall. It falls on the rest of the body in heavy sheets. White, it is all under a sea of white under a storm. I empty myself over her for eons, pulled and rampaging through me. A pair of hands, not mine co to my shaft and milk more of it out. A pair of lips find the tip and throat swallows a good tankard's worth. Casks and barrels and tuns of it pouring from me like a rapid. My hand comes to my lip, covered in my seed. It tastes of raw virile sex as it dances on my tongue. It's heavenly. It's intoxicating.

It ends and I start again. I push the first vessel out of the way, nestled safely in the corner under a moaning after glow. I take a moment to watch her rub the round belly I gave her. She gets a soft kiss on the forehead, and I move on to the next. A shock of blonde hair is closest, so I choose that one.

We're both already prepared. A bit of shame. The tits on this one are bigger and softer and heavier. I want to lay myself between them, but she pushes me to the finale and that's fine. That's still beautiful. This one is a bit more energetic, maneuvering us so that she's on top of me and I'm on the bed in the sea of my creation. It's warm. It smells heavenly, dragging me down under the blanket weight. It calms me down in the fog. Calm and tumultuous pools in equal measure. She bounces and rides and I watch her, hands on her hips and bucking in the same time I choose. She's not quite as tight, but there's more weight to her, pushing down on me. It's more to fight against. It's more to challenge and conquer. I remember this weight and the weight remembers me. The hips fill my hands and I lift her and drop her and add to out combined efforts all together.

This new hole's motions have more control, but they can't hide the endless quiver and shake. Her legs can't quite keep her in the right place. I shift and flex my length and pick up the slack. She is where I need to be. And I am hitting the spots that pull the same release over the lines on my stomach. Our sex mixes and pours and fills the air with scents and sounds and a beautiful tapestry of pleasure. She goes limp and I am holding her up with everything I am. She is rigid and flopping and moving. A streak of dark hair holds her steady for me and that marks the one I will have next. Not the time. I have to focus on the one I have now and that is more than everything I could ever ask for. She screams a name and I think it's mine. She curses me and that is definitely for me.