The Last Library Ch. 02

According to Mera, the sword he chose would strike with the force of a rampaging bull with the slightest swing. He thought that might turn out to be useful if they were to be fighting between rows of bookcases where a full swing might prove tricky. When he asked if she had whetstone to go with it, she had shaken her head and commented that just about every sword in the place magically kept its edge. She seemed to think it was amusing that this was a universal trait of enchanted swords, but Ashur found it reassuring. If he needed to come and find a new blade, not having to sharpen it after centuries of neglect would be handy.

When he asked about a scabbard for it, she had directed him to one nearby. With gold gilding on the sides, he remarked that it was a little ostentatious for his taste and asked for something simpler. In answer, she took both sword and scabbard away from him, inserted the sword, pressed a small patch with what looked like Words on it, and then removed the sword.

"Throw it as far away as you can," she said. He gave her a bemused look, but, curious, he followed her instructions. At ten feet, the sword vanished and he felt the scabbard grow heavy. He looked down at his hand in wonder to find the blade returned.

"Keep the scabbard," she explained, "and you'll never lose the sword."

Settling both on his hip, he had perused the racks until he found a three-foot tall shield that resembled the army issue that he was used to. He had jerked his arm in shock when he first put it on. The shield had promptly reduced in size and wrapped around his forearm like a metallic vambrace. When he asked about it, she showed him how to deploy and retract it on command.

The greatest piece was the armor itself. Had he agreed to become an instructor, the army would have given him a custom steel cuirass and a pauldron, but since he had not, he had been left with the same standard issue painted boiled leather shell. That had been the extent of what Oudromore's army had dictated in uniformity. From there, individual soldiers had added their own personal touches to the outfit with custom greaves, pauldrons, and assorted weapons.

The armor he held in his hands now, however, made him a bit woozy to think about, much less put on. When he had brought it to Mera, he had thought it to be some sort of strange underclothing that someone had left behind while donning some other piece. She quickly disabused him of that notion and he had goggled at the idea what it turned out to be.

It was a two-piece set of clothing. Lightweight and flexible, the armor was a soft grey with what looked to be some sort of fish-scale pattern. Both shirt and trousers were slightly smaller in leg and arm than normal wear. Mera explained that it was meant to be worn under normal clothing and had been the design of a now long dead king who had wanted it for his personal guard. Unfortunately for said king, the making of two sets had been long and almost ruinously expensive and he had dropped the project. The rarity and elaborate manufacturing process had earned them their place in the Library.

Ashur had originally scoffed at the idea that such flimsy material could withstand a knife, let alone a sword until Mera had handed him a blade from the racks, placed the shirt on the floor, and waved at it. He had swung with all his might and, although his arm was numb from the shock, the material was intact. He had looked back up at her, shaking his stunned hand.

"I have yet to meet blade or claw that can cut it," she had told him.

When had asked her why she didn't wear it, she had wordlessly stripped and put the armor on. He had guffawed. While apparently the material would stretch to accommodate a larger frame, it would not shrink to fit a smaller one. The lovely blue woman had looked like nothing more than a child trying to wear her father's clothes. She had grinned back and waggled the loose cloth at him.

Now he was starting to strip his own clothes off in preparation to try the fantastic armor on. When he had taken off everything but his undershorts and reached for bottoms, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. Mera had not yet bothered to dress and she reached down to tug at his waistband.

With a sultry purr, she said, "They go under...everything." He smiled at the tinge of lust in her voice and slowly pulled down his last item of clothing. As he straightened up, he felt the heat from her skin.

"That's better," she murmured, molding her naked body to the front of his. Taking in the feel and smell of her, Ashur placed his hands on her hips and pulled her even tighter. Leaning down, he brought his lips to hers. The kiss she returned was reminiscent of their first night together; hot and forceful.

His cock started to grow and the head brushed the insides of her thighs as it rose. She opened her legs enough to let him reach full length and he felt the lips of her sex part slightly from the pressure the height difference caused.

She moaned into his mouth and threw her arms around his shoulders when he started to thrust the spongy head of his dick along her slit. It was soon coated by the syrupy lubrication starting to leak from her; making the thrusting that much more pleasant.

Soon her breathing started to come in soft pants and she lifted her leg in an attempt to raise high enough to get him inside her, but he had other plans. Grabbing a handful of each cheek, he lifted her by her ass and carried her to the desk. Laying her down with her hips on the edge, he knelt in front of her spread legs and took a moment to enjoy the view. She was dripping freely now and her outer lips had parted to let the inner ones unfold. He smiled to see that the pink flashes of what he now knew was arousal coursed through her skin.

Reaching up, he placed her feet on his back and shoulders before reaching his arms under her knees to hold her hips firmly in place.

Mera gasped at the sudden rearrangement but moaned again as Ashur settled between her thighs and breathed out lightly against her folds. He blew gentle puffs of air along the insides of her thighs and across her lips. She writhed and jumped with every soft gust.

As he continued to torture her, he could see her arousal. It reflected from the nectar that liberally issued from between her lips. Wanting to drink her in, he leaned forward and swiped the flat of his tongue along her labia from bottom to top.

Mera cried out as he ended his teasing and began to lick her in earnest. He took each lip in his mouth and sucked then let go to draw his tongue once again up her weeping slit. She writhed so much that he had to grab her hips to brace himself. He licked and nibbled at her until she begged him to stop. That was when he found her clit and sucked it.

Her orgasm hit.

She bucked against his mouth and he thought he might bruise his upper lip against her pubic bone, but he held onto her; licking the fleshy nub in his mouth until her body shook again and again.

When he let go, tremors and flashes of color ran though her. He watched them course along her muscles and skin as he moved up and rested his body over hers. Once she opened her eyes, he pressed the tip of his cock against her and his eyes asked the question. She nodded emphatically and he sank into her.

Mera bucked again when he entered her. Her legs locked around his hips and tried to draw him deeper, but he was already bottomed out. Pushing back against that pressure, he withdrew until just his head was in her before thrusting in again. He planted his hands on the desk beside her and tilted forward to grasp one of her nipples between his lips. Squeezing gently, he licked the tip of it while keeping a smooth even pace in his lunging hips.

He felt her hands in his hair and she pulled him more firmly into her breast. "Oh yes! More!" she moaned. Enjoying her encouragement, he opened his mouth and drew in as much of her as possible. Feeling her nipple midway into his mouth, he pressed it up against the roof and began to suckle. Her moans intensified and he thought she might pull strands of hair from his scalp. He alternated between her two breasts and increased his tempo. With every thrust, her moans gained in volume and pitch until they reverberated and echoed throughout the armory.

Standing upright, he sank his hands into the tops of her bent thighs and drummed into her at an ever-increasing beat. Suddenly, he felt her body tense up and held her tightly to him as her hips bucked upwards. He rode through her orgasm as she sang out her pleasure.

As she started to come down, he resumed his previous cadence and started chasing his own climax. Repositioning his hands at her hips, he drummed into her; pushing her into another crescendo of ecstasy. Her hands clenched the edge of the desk and she pushed herself into him.

"Please," she cried. "Oh, fuck me! Hurry and come! I can't take any more!" Her cries triggered him and he peaked in a personal rhapsody of pleasure. His pelvis slammed into her as he unloaded time and again to his own chant of "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!"

Exhausted, he bent over her and laid his head on her breast. Her hands stroked his hair while they both caught their breath. When his softening penis finally slid from her grasp, he heard a soft mewl of protest through her skin.

They lay like that until his aching hips and back forced him to push upright once more. Taking her hands, he pulled her into a sitting position on the desk. She had just settled herself when her eyes went wide and she flushed a light purple.

At his look of concern, Mera gazed down between her mildly quivering thighs at the pool of their combined juices dribbling out from her. She gave him a mischievous grin and lifted her hips before sinking a finger into herself. He chuckled at her playfulness and felt a mild return of his arousal when she withdrew the finger and popped it into her mouth.

"Not bad," she mused. The blue woman looked like nothing more than a head chef tasting an apprentice's new soup. "Not bad at all."

He leaned forward and kissed her then. She returned the kiss with weary passion and, for a moment, he got a hint of what she had tasted before she broke away and he found himself agreeing with her. Together, they made something pretty good.

"Get dressed," she said, moving off the desk and gathering her own clothes. He noticed that, while she used part of her skirt to wipe the desk, she made no move to clean the rivulet slowly making its way down her inner thigh. Ashur raised an eyebrow at her and she winked back before walking back out the door; swishing her still naked hips at him. Smiling to himself, he followed along behind.