The Hexhunt

"Indeed you are not," she replied. "My parents taught me to sing. My bandmates--Talina especially--taught me to fight. Speaking of Talina, you seem to be winning her over. That must've been some story you told down in the kitchen."

"Most people find me charming, I'll have you know."

"Oh? Is that before or after you've broken into their houses to crash their parties?"

Asper winced theatrically. "Ah, but if I hadn't done that, then I never would've made your acquaintance. I don't regret it in the slightest. How many more times do you want me to apologize?"

Elemiel's smile spread slow and sultry across her lovely face. "At least once more, I think. And do it up in my bedchamber. On your knees."

They were kissing before they made it to the door to her apartments. There was nothing sweet or soft about the kiss, nothing gentle or circumspect. Elemiel and Asper's lips pressed together with fierce, searing hunger, and she was glad to burn. Perhaps kiss wasn't the right word for it; 'mauling' might have fit better. Elemiel chewed at Asper's lower lip, and she had to hold herself back from nibbling too hard in her excitement. He yelped anyway, but didn't break the embrace.

Somehow Asper got the door open, and they practically fell into her boudoir. Elemiel didn't bother to kick it shut again. The servants would hear her ecstatic screams either way, and she was too busy pressing her soft curves against the hard, unyielding strength of the knight's body. He laced his hands into the midnight river of her hair and pulled her into him, deepening the kiss. Someone moaned--a low, animalistic sound--and Elemiel wasn't sure if it came from her or Asper.

The elf's gown didn't offer much in the way of a barrier to Asper's roving hands. The delicate fabric whispered across her skin as he parted it, baring the magnificent, creamy volume of her breasts. She broke the kiss and pushed him away, a wicked grin painting her lips. The knight stumbled backward, coming to rest on his rump atop a nearby settee with an undignified grunt.

"Oh, you'll pay for that," he growled playfully.

"Promises, promises," Elemiel replied, coiling a strand of plum-colored hair around one finger playfully.

She shrugged out of her gown, and the delicate fabric whispered across her skin as she shed it. It pooled around her feet in a shimmering bunch, the silken fabric more puddle than pile.

Elemiel stood there for a moment in all of her naked glory, and Asper walked the lush landscape of her body with his eyes. His gaze swept across the gentle curve of her belly, the flare of her hips, and the generous bounty of her bosom. His eyes strolled their way up the slender span of her neck and settled on her lovely face, lingering on the heart-shaped birthmark on her cheek.

The elven woman shivered delightedly. Her skin tingled wherever Asper's eyes roamed. Heat gathered in the core of her, spreading up through her navel and throughout her body, like fine Ardellish whiskey settling warmly in her bloodstream.

Asper's expression was that of a supplicant at the altar of his god. "T'alla vennish," he murmured, using the elven word for lovely.

Elemiel felt suddenly bare, exposed to the knight in more than just the physical sense. She felt as if Asper saw her--truly, completely--and the sensation was at once exhilarating and terrifying. It was a combination of emotions the typically poised elf was not accustomed to feeling.

Perhaps her sudden vulnerability showed on her face, for Asper rose from the couch to stand before the elf. He cupped Elemiel's jaw gently in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers.

"T'alla vennish," he repeated, then swapping back to Divonian, "truly, Elemiel."

The elf lowered her lavender gaze, but Asper tilted her chin up and pressed another kiss into her lips. This time it was soft and sweet, and the taste of him lingered on her mouth when at last he withdrew. That wild feeling rose up in Elemiel again, part excitement and part fear. She hadn't felt so close to disaster and so near to glory this way in a long, long time. Not since she'd given up on adventuring all those years ago.

Elemiel's eyes flicked over to a display case on a wall that contained a beautiful deep-bodied lute of black and gold inlaid with a pattern of nacreous oaxitil scales. A present from Elemiel's parents gifted to her before she left Bromelion for the human lands, Nightsong had been her instrument all throughout her time in Golden Bower.

As she stared at the lute, the elven woman was suddenly very conscious of the weight of Asper's gaze.

"You know, I haven't heard you sing yet," Asper observed, nodding towards the ornate instrument.

"Only because you haven't been trying hard enough," answered Elemiel. "When I say, 'just like that, keep going,' I don't mean 'speed up and go harder,' you know."

Asper snorted. "That's not what I'm talking about, and you damn well know it." His expression turned earnest. "I'd love to hear you play sometime. I imagine you're quite skilled."

"Oh, I'm fantastic," agreed the elf breezily, "but if you want a private concert, you'll need to earn it."

"I wonder how I'll be able to do that?" replied the knight. He pulled his shirt over his head, and Elemiel was struck momentarily dumb by the sight of his chest; hard planes, rippling muscles, and scars that wove a tapestry of storied battles across his flesh.

Ah, fuck. She wanted to pounce on him right then and there.

"First things first," she said, stalking him like a hunting cat closing in for the kill. "Let's see if you can apply that clever mouth of yours to something aside from flattery."

She stood before him, naked and splendid. She raised an eyebrow and placed one hand on her hip, a challenging expression on her face. Asper grinned and filled his palms with her flesh, and she couldn't help the little moan that escaped her lips when touched her. He appeared to relish the volume of her breasts, his hands tracing their contours, thumb brushing against a stiff, achingly hard nipple. His grip dipped lower to cup her ass, squeezing and pinching with teasing confidence.

His touch was as infuriatingly playful as his crooked smile. He toyed with her, squeezing and pinching and rubbing until every nerve she possessed felt like it had been dipped in gold and set aflame. She blazed and delighted in the passionate conflagration.

"Enough," she managed to croak out.

"My my," Asper quipped, "your voice sounds a bit strained there, my delectable elven minstrel--"

Elemiel didn't let him finish. She rested her hands on his shoulders and pushed the knight down until he knelt on the ground in front of her. She bent to kiss him, lips grazing his forehead, then lifted one leg and placed her foot against the settee behind him. Straddling the knight's face, Elemiel presented the dewy lips of her vulva down for him to kiss.

Asper fell upon her cunt with the enthusiasm of a halfling attacking a pie, but his attention was as far from clumsy, boorish fumbling as could be. He licked at her artfully, pressing the pad of his tongue flat against her lower lips to apply even pressure to her sensitive parts, then gave several clever flicks, tracing the blushing bounty of her vulva. Each little lick sent a jolt like electricity through her pussy, and lightning crackled in her veins with the sweet agony of building, needful release.

"Asper, fuck, Asssper."

His name tasted delicious in her mouth, just as his tongue felt beautiful upon her cunt. He kissed her on the vulva, feathering her pussy with delicate pecks, alternating with deep, hungry licks. The knight murmured compliments about the way she tasted as he devoured her, and when he inhaled her scent he closed his eyes as if savoring the bouquet of a fine Synestrian wine.

"T'alla vennish," he said again.

His strong hands wrapped around the taper of her waist, pulling her harder against his face with an urgency returned by every fiber of Elemiel's body. The elf took a fistful of his dark brown hair, moved his head exactly where she wanted it, and shoved her cunt onto his mouth.

Elemiel worked her hips, luxuriating in the heady feeling of sensual power. She wanted to claim every part of him, to mark her territory with the wetness of her cunt like a she-beast from the depths of the Sevalish forest. She rubbed herself on his lovely lips and his adorably crooked nose, broken in some glorious battle no doubt. She rode Asper's face like a saddle and anointed his features with the blessing of her womanhood.

For his part, the knight drank from her like a parched man lost in the Sunlands. It was as if after an agony of thirst and longing, he had finally knelt to find his oasis between the damp glory of her thighs.

"Ugnfffff," she hissed, chewing her lower lip as she looked down at Asper across the topography of her body. He caught her eye and winked up at her, insufferably, adorably cocky, and sucked fiercely at her clit.

"AsperrRRR!" she shouted, and she sucked in her stomach like an empty wineskin as she climaxed on his mouth.

The tension that had been mounting all morning unspooled inside of her, and the orgasm swept through Elemiel's body like a summer typhoon on the Bromelion coast. It left every part of her wet and warm and dripping, washing away thought and doubt until only the surety of pleasure remained. Elemiel reflexively tightened her fingers in Asper's hair as she ground her cunt against him, but if the knight was discomfited by her aggression he made no complaint that she could hear.

Elemiel bit out each word, struggling against the urge to howl out her pleasure. "Good. Fucking. Boy."

Asper just clutched at her more tightly, driving his tongue relentlessly against her, as if her pleasure were a battle and he was keen on taking not a single prisoner. The stimulation became too much for Elemiel, and she convulsed. The little pearl of her clit was oversaturated with the purest, buzzing bliss, so much pleasure that it started to dance on the edge of pain.

She screamed in joy, yowling like a rutted tigress, but her blissful shout turned into an awkward "Yalp!" as her legs spasmed and her foot slipped off the settee. Off-balance, Elemiel felt herself pitching forward. She landed on the cushions with an awkward squeal, her cunt still trembling from the sweet agony of her ecstasy. Her chest and neck and face felt hot and flushed, and she had no idea whether that was from her orgasm or her embarrassment at falling face-first onto the settee.

"Gods, El, are you alright?" Asper asked, and even before she twisted to look at him Elemiel could hear the laughter in his deep voice.

"Oh, shut up," Elemiel replied, but as she allowed him to help her sit up, she couldn't stop her own giggling.

"I like the sound of your laughter almost as much as I like the sound of your pleasure," he said, "t'alla vennish aelfa." His mouth was wet, his lips swollen and glossy with her ardor. He looked inordinately pleased with himself.

Elemiel grinned, and the rosy pink of her blush deepened. Honestly, girl, she thought, shaking her head at her foolishness. The situation was quickly turning to Asper's advantage, but she wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Your pronunciation is a little off," she replied. Asper rolled his stormy-gray eyes, but she held up a hand to forestall further commentary. "But you are sweet," she admitted fondly. "Now, it's my turn."

"Your turn?" the knight asked. "Shouldn't we get going?" He nodded to indicate the warm light of dawn breaking through the window. "The Queen of Divony herself is expecting us."

Elemiel snorted, reclining onto the settee in a truly shameless exhibition of supple curves and succulent elven flesh. Dealing with Duke Ditherington and his undoubtedly unpleasant plans could wait.

"Not so fast," she admonished, "and what was it you said? 'First thing in the morning could be interpreted in a variety of ways.' Now pick one for us to try."

"One what?" Asper asked, intrigued.

Elemiel lifted her chin at the paintings of fornicating people which covered the walls of her boudoir. There were a great variety of exotic positions to choose from, and the elf couldn't stifle her laugh when she saw the delighted understanding kindle in Asper's eyes.

"Oh, I see," he said, one side of his lips kicking up in a grin. "Well, I suppose we've got some time. After all, Auntie is very understanding."

The Palace

The carriage hit a particularly deep rut in the road, and Elemiel gagged as Asper's cock suddenly found a new home in the back of her throat. She choked and spluttered into his groin, but Asper's moans had taken on a frantic, craving-filled edge, so the elf gamely ignored the spit on her chin and kept on sucking. The noises he was making were worth a little bit of a sore throat.

Damn it, Talina! she cursed silently as the carriage rocked again. It felt like the woman was purposefully driving over the worst bumps and divots in the street.

She was tempted to interrupt the blowjob and give her friend a piece of her mind, but at that moment she felt Asper's cock throb in her mouth. Elemiel turned her attention back to the suck-job. She massaged the knight's bollocks and took his root as deeply as she could without retching. After a moment of loud, frantically wet slurping, she was rewarded by the knight's strangled shout of joy and the sudden burst of his warm, thick spunk flooding into her mouth.

Elemiel swallowed eagerly, gulping down everything Asper could give her. When he ceased pulsing and the flow of his seed slowed to a trickle, the elven woman gave the crown of his cock a few final swirls with her tongue, then sat back onto the luxuriously upholstered bench. Asper groaned with almost delirious pleasure, and Elemiel smacked her lips, wearing a self-satisfied expression on her face.

"Enjoy yourself, sir knight?" she asked.

"Good lord Elemiel," Asper panted, pushing his sweat-damp hair away from his forehead and dragging his hands down his face in a gesture of defeated pleasure, "your mouth is magic. By the Pits, yes, I damn well enjoyed myself!"

The elf smirked as she arranged the lustrous waves of her purple-black hair back into a semblance of order. "The question was entirely rhetorical, Asper darling," she replied, "but thank you anyway."

Gods, but he was tasty. She could drink him all day and still not have her fill.

The carriage slowed, and Elemiel heard the sound of voices raised in challenge. The thick walls of the vehicle made the conversation between Talina and the guards outside indistinct, so Elemiel twitched aside a velvet curtain and looked out the window to see that they had made it to the gates at the bottom of Emerald Hill.

Elemiel eyed the dense row of trees beyond the ornate, gilded gate. Although it was called the Royal Gardens, Elemiel didn't think the name quite did justice to the thick forest which sprouted on the slopes of the Emerald Hill surrounding the Palace.

Pine and spruce and alder grew together in a riot of entwined trunks and heavy canopy, threaded through with walking paths made of crushed starsnail shells. They gleamed in the wintery sunlight like alabaster ribbons, but Elemiel had been to the Palace before to attend balls and parties. She'd seen the Gardens at night and knew that under the light of the moon the paths of crushed shells luminesced, shining like veins of blue fire beneath the boughs.

Elemiel felt Asper shift in his seat, and she turned to look at him. They locked eyes across the coach--his stormcloud gray, hers the dark mauve of a ripe plum.

"Ready to meet the family?" he asked.

Elemiel lifted an eyebrow. "Asper, is that a hint of trepidation I detect in your voice?"

"Hardly," he protested.

Elemiel tsked. "The valiant Sunstriker, peerless knight and hero of countless ballads, nervous to have a little chat with his Auntie?" Her voice was a silken tease.

Asper frowned. "Well, she is the Queen. And I don't expect she'll be terribly happy with the fact that she learned I made it back from the Godswall alive by accident."

"Come now, Asper," Elemiel waved a hand airly, "you just have to use that clever mouth of yours on her, just like you did with me." She paused. "Well, maybe not exactly like you did with me."

The guards eventually waved them through the gates, and Talina guided the carriage up the driveway. She pulled to a halt underneath the awning of an elaborate porte cochère. As Elemiel and Asper moved to dismount, the knight reached out and took hold of the sleeve of the elf's gown.

"Hold on a moment," he murmured, leaning forward. He took her chin in his hand and bent in as if for a kiss. Elemiel closed her eyes and parted her lips, her mouth already tingling with the anticipation of his taste.

Which was why it was so surprising when he licked the side of her face.

"The fuck," she spluttered, unable to conceive of anything more eloquent than that to say at the moment.

Asper smiled that wicked little smirk of his. "You had some of my, ah, pastry cream, on your face. Just wanted to return the favor from the kitchen earlier."

Touché.

"You dirty boy," Elemiel said approvingly and allowed him to help her out of the carriage.

Talina rolled her eyes at both of them. "He's growing on me," she said in elven to Elemiel, "kind of like a fungus."

"You do remember that I can speak elvish, don't you?" Asper pointed out.

The tall woman crossed her arms and gave him an elaborately unconcerned shrug. "You two have fun," Talina said. "I'm going to go take this thing to the mews," she thumped the side of the carriage, "then find a dice game."

"Leave the poor stablehands some money," Elemiel called as Talina drove away, the starsnail shells of the driveway crunching underneath the carriage's wheels.

The elf turned to look around the immaculately tended gardens, lovely even in their winter denudement. Curiously, she saw several servants scurrying about hauling tables and chairs across the lawns as if they were setting up for a party. Elemiel frowned. As one of the wealthiest businesswomen in the city she was usually included in those, but the elf couldn't recall an invitation to the Palace arriving recently.

I have been distracted as of late, she allowed, her gaze drifting to Asper's strong shoulders. He was preoccupied with watching the preparations as well and didn't notice her looking.

"What's all this about?" Elemiel asked, pointing to a pair of servants who were draping a pristine white tablecloth over a banquet table.

"I'm guessing it's a Hexhunt," Asper mused.

"A what?" Elemiel asked curiously.

"Magic runs deep on the Palace grounds," the knight explained. "Countless enchantments have been laid on top of one another over the centuries in strata of magery that not even the Royal Cabal entirely understands. Occasionally, strange things happen."

"Such as?" Elemiel prompted impatiently.

"I'm getting to that," Asper said, "Hold onto your britches."

"I'm wearing a dress."

"I've very much noticed that, as has every groundskeeper and gardener in eyeshot."

"Asper..."

"Alright, alright. Well, with all the enchantments interacting in odd ways, every so often the magic lines up just right and produces something nasty. A spell-spawned creature called an ouphe coalesces in the forest, hells-bent on causing havoc. Before it can do any real harm, it's tradition to make a celebration out of putting it down. The peerage and their retinues are invited, refreshments are served, and the threat is taken care of via the Hexhunt. The person who kills the beastie is lauded and celebrated by the rest of the nobility until the next ouphe is spat out by the Palace magic, and we get to do it all over again."