Love Has No Grave

"Next," she enticed, shutting her thighs together tightly to guide him down the supple meat before he set into the fruit they guarded. He sucked greedy mouthfuls of the malleable flesh into his mouth, puckering his cheeks to secure them tightly for his eager tongue. Elia sat up, propped up on her elbows to watch Sulva cover every inch of her legs in wet kisses, ending at her toes.

"Now," she revealed, opening her legs to him. Even in the dark Sulva could see how awash with glistening excitement she was. Her center was swollen with need, her clitoris peeking through its hood engorged with boiling, lusting blood. Sulva approached on his knees as if led on a leash and took his place between her legs, laying his arms on her parted legs. He waited for Elia's command, and watched, enchanted, as she spread her lips open with her fingers, showing him her shuddering entrance. She bid him close with a beckoning finger and he obeyed. He brought his face before her lips with reverence. With the flat of his tongue he broached contact with Elia's inflamed loins. She sighed into him and wrapped her hand around his hair. She curated his speed, his pressure, pulling him back or pushing him deeper to teach him what she liked.

He outlined her lips with his tongue before spiraling inward to bathe her inner labia in copious saliva. She burned under his lips and hissed her pleasure to the ceiling. He dipped his tongue between the folds and ensured every inch knew his touch before crawling upwards to make love to her clitoris. His pressure lessened and he simply made the hood familiar with him before delving deeper to caress her pearl. Like an octopus' meandering limb, his organ wrapped around the sensitive pleasure center. Elia listed and contorted like she was underwater and embraced the waves of stimulation that crashed over her. With tentative initiative, Sulva pressed her button, pushing the erect protrusion into her body with his undulating tongue. Elia panted until she could hold out no longer and she gasped under his mouthing, digging her head into the mattress until she could go no deeper. Her fingers pulled Sulva's hair hard, detaching him from her sensitive spot so she could pull him up for a brief, forceful kiss.

Their tongues tangled as she sought the taste of her own excitement in his mouth. They fought furiously within the conjoined caves of their mouths before Elia broke away with a pop and a growl before pushing him back down to serve her between her legs.

Sulva understood the message and dove into her sopping wet opening and flicked his tongue wildly within her. Elia almost screamed at the assault, squirming under his face to encourage his tongue to cover every ridge of her vagina. Her taste intoxicated him. He drank down her ambrosia heartily, feeding his own bulging arousal from the font of her freely flowing own. He sucked and dug and chewed his way as deeply and as encompassing as he could. When the tip of his tongue could reach no further, he speared it into the roof of her passage and massaged it all the way back to her entrance. The stinging pain in his scalp rendered inadvertently by Elia's unbridled passion did little to deter Sulva from giving her everything he had. He did shift, though, and exited her slick hole with a kiss before moving up to resume licking her clitoris.

Elia squealed as his first finger entered her and slowly slid along her mushy channel to halt at her wall. Just as excruciatingly slow, he withdrew, curling along the ceiling as he went, stealing Elia's breath until he was free and a great gasp was issued from her lips. His licking and toothless gnawing provided an incessant rapid of pleasure while his fingers steered her this way and that, unfurling the sails or laying anchor to force her to tread the steep, raw bolts of stimulation for moments that seemed to last for eternity. She was made a sweaty, roiling mess by this, and she could hardly issue her final order to her man.

"Please," she pleaded, and Sulva obliged at once. He separated himself and rose, waiting for Elia to pull herself back to make room for him. He climbed onto bed, and laid himself over her, wrapping his arms around her for a close kiss. His cock lay between her open legs, burning hot against her own blazing center as their tongues made magma in their mouths. Hands sought skin and hair and thighs rubbed together in search of softness, of hardness. Breasts crushed against hard chest, hot breath falling over and between the peaks like ancient rock faces courted and caressed by eons of erosion. So too did they conform to each other's shifts and angles in a manner unhurried and organic. The grinding of their most private parts kept the fire smoldering below, until Sulva's rigidness was hardened to diamond.

They broke away, their time coming to a head. Sulva arranged himself before her entrance, and looked to Elia. She nodded imploringly, almost pained by the wait. Sulva pressed himself against her, and with an effortless push, he sank into her. Breath was expelled the entire length of Sulva's insertion. Sulva halted when his groin was flush with his wife, and he let her absorb him and stretch to his size while he paid love to her breasts again. Elia's moans were unbroken and never ending, soaring above them until Sulva planted his lips over hers, not to silence her, but to feel her sing into his mouth. With just as much care as he took on entering her, he lifted himself from her, wincing as inch after inch resisted the sweetly painful suction of her pulsing sheath until he was clear of her broiling depths. He lingered in the air cool by comparison for only a torturous moment before driving himself back into her. Halfway, he stopped, and rocked himself in and out of her, retracting each thrust before he crossed the halfway point.

Elia was undone by his machinations, rocking herself over him as he sawed in and out of her steadily. She crooned and wailed breathlessly, overcome with feeling. Sulva closed the kiss and latched onto her throat, sucking and raking his teeth across the puckered skin. Elia dug her fingernails into Sulva's back, unable to contain herself any longer. She quaked under him, and he saw his opportunity then. He drove himself to the hilt within her in one motion, pulling himself out until only his tip remained inside her. Just as quickly as he had bottomed out inside her, he thrusted into her again, and again, and again. He barraged her loins like a siege engine against a castle wall, after her precious treasure. He felt his own end closing in on him, and resisted the feeling with great effort and animalistic grunts.

He growled above her, an animal unleashed upon a fair maiden, savaging her with his length, slamming his balls against the plump cushion of her ass. Elia's cries died in her throat, inaudible to the air, her face reflecting the overwhelming ecstasy that shut her eyes tight and opened her mouth wide. She fell back to earth and sought her husband out, grabbing onto his side and sending her lower body into his to drive him over the edge. Sulva cried out and she knew he had lost control. He rutted into her desperately, every ring of muscle within her coxing him to spill his seed within her. He fought it no longer and gave in, stabbing himself headlong into her and blasting himself into oblivion as his seed shot into his wife's womb. He collapsed onto Elia, inadvertently driving himself impossibly deeper into her. They lay, convulsing, as one body, their moans in harmony as one voice.

Elia gasped for air beneath Sulva's weight, her arms and legs limp and powerless as he was atop her. He lay still as death, his face buried in her sweaty, tousled hair. Elia wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and nuzzled into his neck contentedly. She darted her tongue out to taste his sweat, and sighed, at last convinced Sulva really did live and breathe yet again. After a time, Sulva finally sturred, and rolled off of her, dislodging himself from her with a wet plop, followed by a pleasant sigh from them both. Sulva drew Elia onto his chest with his arm and held her there. They lay together in satisfied silence in their shared afterglow, drunk love clear on their countenance.

"Sulva."

Sulva looked down upon her lazily, a grin plastered across his face.

"That... has never happened before. What have you done with my husband?"

Sulva scrunched up his face in faux consideration.

"I've... succeeded him, I hope."

"You surely have, my love."

Sulva covered her hand, a thoughtful look on his face.

"My love."

Elia's ears pricked up and her tipsy smile tightened. She looked up at him.

"Sulva, do you remember me?"

"I... no, I don't think so. But perhaps as the fog of our lovemaking parts, so too will the mists that obscure my memories."

"You're right, it took time for the ritual to bring you to life, as well. We need only wait. Beside, let's not waste this opportunity to enjoy the present, rather than desire the past and worry for the future."

Fate, or maybe only Leon, had other plans, yet again. As if waiting for such a hopeful observation, the spurned footman could not contain himself any longer. A shout rang out in the night, shattering the lovers' reverie like the window he hurled a stone through to begin his assault.

"Enough! I will bear this insult no longer! Come out, both of you, before we drag you out!"

Their afterglow cast in unwanted limelight, the couple scrambled out of bed to retrieve their clothes and bar the door. They crouched down behind the bed, wary of the broken window and unable to see out from behind the black curtain now drifting at the breeze's whim. They could hear men outside, their steel tinkling like portentous windchimes.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know! How did they find out you're here?"

"Could they have gotten to the warlock?"

Elia blanched.

"There's no way. He would never talk, even if he was caught."

"Do you think Leon could have put the pieces together, having Valjon around so soon after my death?"

"Despite his station, I severely doubt Leon's talent at perception."

Sulva merely grunted and pricked up his ears, suddenly aware of the silent night outside. He peered over the bed, craning his head this way and that in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what surrounded his home. Elia, too, noticed the deathly calm that had silenced even the chirping insects of the tall grass. A cacophony of uproarious laughter and jeering burst the peace into a million pieces, as the decanter of the firebomb shattered into innumerable shards against the window frame. Great flames jumped to life, seeping down the wall like a viscous sap, covering every inch of the surface before climbing through the window.

Sulva and Elia cried out and backed into the door. They searched each other's face for an alternative, but there was no escape but to unbar the door and flee. Sulva threw it open and led Elia by the arm into the den. They crashed directly into robust bodies that seized them by the arms, hauling them out of the inferno that swiftly consumed their marriage home. They struggled and shouted but to no avail but damp grass to cushion the violent shove from their captors. Sulva pushed himself to his knees and pulled Elia up to him. They watched with angry tears in their eyes as the house was devoured by the all encompassing flames. The men watched with them, pity or remorse wholly absent from any of their countenances.

A man approached from behind the cowering couple and whistled sharply. They turned to the noise, the men smirked and the couple glowered.

"Quite a chase you led us on, warlock. All a trick, a familiar perhaps, to get in one last screw before skipping town, eh?"

The man sneered at them, until recognition paled his face under the orange glow of the fire. He stepped closer, unbelieving, and peered into Sulva's face skeptically.

"That isn't Valjon! What abomination is this?"

Sulva bowed his head and Elia watched, her defiance welling up to overflowing. She straightened her back and held her chin high, looking down her nose at Leon.

"It is my husband, Leon! The one and only, for as long as I shall live."

Leon stared at the both of them, incredulous. He considered the suspicious faces of his cohorts and struggled to sort out what he had been certain of and what he was inexplicably faced with.

"That's... It wasn't the warlock fucking you in there, but this corpse? How can this be?"

A man approached and spat before Sulva.

"We had it wrong. The sorcerer only misled us from his creation. Long enough for a plow, apparently."

Leon thumbed his chin and gauged his man's theory.

"So he's next, then."

The other footman grinned like a jackal and crossed his arms.

"Finally. We've turned a blind eye to that freak's blasphemy long enough."

Leon crouched down before Elia, considering her seriously, what looked almost like hurt in his eyes.

"You would rather lie with the damned than me?"

He shook his head, disappointed.

"The quarry is never as good as the hunt."

He stood and drew his dagger, brandishing it against Elia's throat. She recoiled but his blade did not follow. He smiled, taking delight in her fear.

"Alas, I still cannot bring myself to harm you. Ayor must do it for me."

The named henchman approached and flashed a smile as jagged as the knife he drew. Sulva made to rise but Leon's fist propelled him to the ground, signalling a pair of his men to come over and restrain him. He thrashed against their hold but could not compete with the strength of soldiers. Leon lowered himself again, replacing his blade against Sulva's windpipe. The men stared at one another, unblinking.

"Looks like you've grown a spine after taking a knife in your old one."

"Don't keep me waiting."

"I never thought I'd say this, but you're alright. I'll make sure we get you back to your hole in one piece."

Before Leon could make good on that promise, words to the contrary were uttered from somewhere in the trees that threw the footmen's hold on the newly reunited couple into disarray.

A bright light arced across the sky, drawing the eye of all under the sky that night. As the head of the trailing wisp passed over the moon, the light flashed infinitely brighter, blinding the people below with its brilliance. The footmen shielded their eyes, unable to witness the flames of the fire still and sway, forming itself into a pillar that spiraled high into the illuminated sky from the roof of the house. The spectral white light cast over the night was tinged by the blazing red hue of the fire. As soon as the great pillar of flame steadied, it fell to the earth like the blade of a guillotine, bisecting the group. The flames rose to form a wall between where Sulva and Elia had knelt. They had dashed away from the flames as the footmen had, and searched for each other from behind raised hands, hardly able to stand the intense heat. They called out to each other, amidst the chaos and the roaring inferno. The footmen had scattered, even Leon not foolish enough to stick around to indulge his vendetta.

"Flee! Flee! Get away while you can!"

The voice in the trees rang familiar to the separated couple and the footmen, who had just begun to gather their wits. Elia caught a glimpse of the warlock, wild eyed and worse for wear among the trees before he slipped away, soldiers starting out after him. She heard her name issued from Sulva's lips, and spotted him between licking flames. He was stooped, like he would be after a long day's ride, and his eyes were narrow as if he was used to spotting the road ahead of him. The look in his eye upon her struck her as undeniably familiar, intense, unwavering, protective. But he was stricken by helplessness as he had been in life. Elia could see no way for him to overcome furious flame, a much more fortified foe than Leon could ever pose.

He called something out to her, and hesitated before turning to flee from the out of control fire. Elia backpedaled and tracked him as best she could before he was totally out of sight. Only then did she turn to escape as well. She pumped her arms and ran faster than she had ever run before, melting into the forest before a footman could grab ahold of her. The flare above had dissipated, and night was settling back into darkness, though the enormous fire stretching from her home cast shadows as far as she could see. Darkness pervaded the foliage as she ran deeper into the forest, and she could only see by the sparse light of the moon that spilled through the canopy. She dared not look back, for fear of men at her back, and the thought of her man running as fast as he could from her back. She did not stop running until her dress tripped up her gait and she tumbled down the hillside, crashing through bushes and saplings on her violent roll to the edge of a river.

She cried out in anguish, and pulled herself to the water's edge, shocked by the face that awaited her just upon the surface. A smoke stained face streaked by muddy tears stared blankly back at her. Her hair was a tangled mess about her head, polluted by twigs and leaves and dirt. Shock broke through the porcelain mask and sobs racked her chest, spilling stinging tears from her puffy, smoke-swollen eyes. She wailed across the body of water and dropped her head. The cool water provided unexpected relief to the top of her head. She sought out more, and dipped her head lower and lower into the water until she was submerged. She felt in another world, of timelessness and unfeeling, save preserving cold. Her decimated heart did not pain her nor did memory overthrow her in that mirror world free of flame and death. Only her thirst for breath drew her back to the surface, where fire-feeding air and men with blades waited.

Elia returned to the night air, tinged with the scent of smoke. She whipped her dripping hair onto her back and wiped at her eyes, washing the soot from her face. The gentle tinkle of water on water beading off of her elbows and dropping from her hair onto the surface of the lake juxtaposed with the faint crackle of the burning house afar.

The three had separated without a word of farewell, to flee into the past, the present, and the future, alone with but themselves. Each had memories to sort, desires to weigh, and identities to put in order. Elia gazed over the river, the bank on the other side waiting for her. With nothing to turn back to, and desolation closing in on her where she sat, she waded into the river, intent on reaching the other side.