The Song of Roland Ch. 05

Roland couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned on his bedroll, his mind alight with the sounds of croaking frogs and dark-feathered night birds swooping overhead into the forest braying their haunting cries. The red-maned mercenary hadn't slept soundly in days, his trek through the woods north of Rendhold taking far more out of him than he had thought it warranted. When what blessed sleep did come, it arrived with all the comfort of an ill-timed punch to the gut.

Kelsea curled up next to him, her bedroll uncomfortably close to his as she indulged in the mortal fiction of rest. Far from civilization as they were, she chose to drop the charade, allowing her full purple form to emerge beneath the well-kept illusion. Truth be told, Roland preferred her this way. She looked... 'natural' was not the proper word. Perhaps 'genuine.'

"Can't sleep?" The Succubus murmured, her back to him as she slept in the nude. Despite the cold her form was a burning blaze next to Roland's own. He did not know where she got so much body heat. The heart-shaped curves of her ass looked good pointed towards him, one side resting on the floor, the crack of her bottom spreading and accentuating her wide assflesh. Her demonic tail curled up and traced his body from navel to sternum, its minute movements scratching slightly against his body. He grabbed it with his hand.

"Quiet." He replied, squeezing her tail and causing it to writhe like a snake in his grasp. She let out a painful squeak. "I'm trying to."

She shifted her weight, turning around to face Roland. Her eyes met his as she looked at him, lazily displaying her bounteous breasts and the curve of her hips, her hands trailing along both as she idly caressed herself. To any other woman it would have looked like she was blatantly sexualizing herself, perhaps in preparation for masturbation. For Kelsea it merely looked like she was bored. Roland could swear that her assets were larger than when they'd started on their journey. "You're doing an awful job. You need to close your eyes to manage that."

"I can't if you're going to be shoving your tits in my face, yeah?" She chuckled at his imperiousness.

"You weren't complaining after I slept with those poacher boys." She scooted closer, moving to initiate something more between them, "Perhaps you're just in need of a little exhaustive loving?"

He put a hand to her shoulder, pushing her back. "No. Stop."

She ignored him, pressing closer. He relented, allowing her to lean up into his face and kiss him on the lips. The Succubus bit on his mouth, drawing blood with her pointed teeth. He did not respond, allowing her to do her work. She slithered her body up close to him, pressing her milky tits tightly against his chest, wrapping her leg over his as she straddled him. "Roland..." She whispered, her voice a well of passionate entreaty. "Let's do it. I'll even let you do my butt, I know you like my naughty little hole-"

"Why did you protect them?" He suddenly asked, his hands at his sides as she gazed at him, her lust seeping through her licking tongue. Confused, She drew her head back.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you protect them, the poachers?" He repeated, meeting her otherworldly gaze with his own. "They meant nothing to you; you didn't garner any new followers, and I can't imagine it was just for the sex, elsewise you'd have let me slay them once they'd blown their load, when their guard was down."

She looked away from him, the horn on one side of her face digging into their bedrolls as she averted her eyes. "I dunno..." The Succubus said seeming almost diffident.

He took her chin in his hand, "I think you do." He retorted, his nostrils flaring. "What I can't fathom is why. Nor why you're here, tailing a two-bit sellsword with no coin and no cocks besides mine to suck. You go a few days march east and you're in Slarnoth, with all the baker's boys you could drink; build yourself a little coven, and you're set for 'life.'" She didn't say anything. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing."

He grabbed her face, "You lie. If you didn't want something you'd have left that cave the second I turned my back on you. Hell, if you'd have truly wanted to, you probably could have bathed me in that balefire spell you're so fond of throwing around. Burned my bones to ash."

She looked at him, her hand moving to stroke his face as her other placed itself gently on his wrist. He gritted his teeth at the contact. "I wouldn't hurt you, Roland."

"But that's just it: you are. By staying here, by following me around. Every errant blowjob, every sloppy finish, every cocking I give you. You're..." He let out a heavy sigh. "Gods damn the ground you walk on, I can't stop myself anymore. If you want to make me your tool just tell the truth and be done with it! I'm not as stupid as you seem to think. I know what you are, what you're doing to me."

"I'm your companion." She said, leaning up for a kiss. "And your 'tool,' whenever you want to use me." He shied away from her peck, and she gave him a long look. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're a demon." He replied, taking her hand against his face and pressing it tight to his lips. He could feel the softness of her fingers, the heated curl as they responded to his affection. "You're corruption incarnate. You don't... you're using me, somehow."

"I'm not."

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out an angry expulsion of air. "You lying whore." He pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips tight against her own as he began to hump wildly against her. In moments she was peeling his clothing off, stripping him down to his war wounds as she mounted him in the darkness. Her heady breath was on his chest, her tongue swirling around his nipple. She wasted little time, eager as she was to invoke his masculinity. She grabbed him and sank down with her unholy snatch pressed tight against her base, his balls bumping hard against her ass as the two began immediately to lock within their intense sex.

"I'm not." She whispered, leaning up and licking the sweat off of his neck, "I'm not. I swear I -ungh! Gods, touch me Roland!"

He did more than touch her, grabbing at her breasts and kneading them between his hands, feeling the slight swell of them filling his palms more fully than they'd been before. She bounced atop him, taking the first truly assertive stance she'd ever done with Roland, her hips twerking as she ingratiated herself to his rod. She draped herself across him, the weight of her body falling onto his skin as she kissed his scars, as though intent upon eroticising even his long-healed injuries. His left hand was at her hip, his right arm around curved around her slender shoulders. He pulled her tight against him as she cried out his name.

"Ahn! Please," She gasped, "More; faster! I want to feel your seed in me." She lifted her head, her red eyes lidded low as her voice took that same, deep tone that sounded like honeyed syrup on her tongue, "I want to feel your essence in me."

"I won't." Roland whispered, inhaling the heavenly scent of her hair as she placed her head upon his chest. She smelled like ancient memories, like sunflowers and maiden's blood. She cried out and bit his shoulder, her love bites leaving indelible marks upon his skin just as the fragrance of her body elicited a visceral emotion from his chest. As if from nowhere, Roland found himself fighting back tears.

Kelsea paid no heed, thrusting herself upon him, lifting her hips above his throbbing penis, drawing herself sharply off his body before plunging deep within him once again. She knew how to use him, manipulate his sensitivity to draw his inner desires to the fore. Despite himself he groped her ass, spreading her cheeks, sliding a finger into the packed confines of her pussy and causing her to squeal.

"Roland!" She cried, and the mercenary could swear it was in another, more familiar tone he hadn't heard in years. He nearly ceased his labours, but her spirited engulfment proved too much and he instead burst within her, his nuts clenching as he emptied himself completely. The ejaculation was the same as many times before it, yet for some reason he sensed a paradigm shift. Before he had been sating himself against her sexuality; the feelings and expressions were genuine, but empty. This time it felt like a truly shared experience. It left his heart hammering in his chest, his breath short in his lungs, and his hands trailing gently along her curves, his fingers tracing the heat of her body as she pressed herself against him.

She kissed at his chest again, her light touches of the lip coming in short, demure touches that traced its way up his body. They shifted weight as she slipped free from him, her mouth connecting with his as she frenched him deeply. "Kelsea..." He murmured and she moaned at the sound.

"You were..." She said, lifting her head up and seeming to return to her senses, "I just... wow. That was, I don't even know what to say."

"You seem new at this." Roland said, threading his fingers through the back of her head, her luxurious hair like silk threads through the webbing of his digits. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were a virgin, at her first bedding."

She poked him hard in the cheek. "That's about the most insulting thing you've ever said to me, Roland. Also patently untrue."

He looked up at her, their eyes locked as she stared at him tenderly. The old question came to his mind again. "Then why are you here?"

"You know why," She said, shifting her hips back to press against his cock, still wet from their mixture of erotic fluids. "Maybe you should ask yourself the same question."

More surprising than the sex itself, Roland was allowed by the Succubus to resume his attempted slumber, curling up with her and spooning in a personal manner as he drifted off next to her. Even with the mating completed, the mercenary found it hard to sleep, his arm wrapped around her midriff and pulled tightly against him. His hand felt the smooth skin of her stomach, enraptured by the heat he felt. He swore he could sense the slow progress of his cum up the bloom of her belly, the unbearable heat growing as it spread within her womb. Roland lost consciousness with that strangely comforting thought in his mind.

The dream returned, the same one that had forced him from sleep the last three nights. The same damned apparition that rose in his mind and kept him awake, terrified he might return to that place. She was there, in the murky fog and unkempt pits of his mind. Her smile was like a beacon through which he espied the nothingness that surrounded her. She was a point in the darkness, an ever shifting mirage that floated further and further away from him even as he reached out to grab it. He remembered every inch, every sinew of her face; he recalled the smell of sunflowers and the walks through the fields. Her laughter, a sound he had long thought forgotten, stilted past his mind and left him broken in its wake. It was always the same place, the same dream, the same thrice-damned wall against which she'd been roughly pushed. A series of twangs, and then the whistling death. He could do nothing.

"No!" He shouted in the dream; it never did him any good. He always awoke before the connection, before that last, agonized scream sank into his ears. And this time was no different, save the feel of her hand against his chest, like a ghost's caress.

Roland jerked awake, feeling the sudden, insistent press of another's hand atop his sternum. "Roland," The voice said in the blackness, sounding frightened with its hurried whisper. "Gods, Roland, wake up! There's-"

He began to sit up, but Kelsea pushed him down. "There's Imps." She said, her voice near to panicking. "I- I didn't know, I swear, I don't know where they came fr-"

In a rush the Mercenary grabbed at his sword belt, pulling the blade free from its scabbard. He quickly pulled flint and steel from his pack, groping along in the darkness till he found what he needed. He removed one of his rag torches, hearing the whistling sound of running, hoofed feet in the distance as he hurriedly sparked at the light.

"What are you doing?" The Succubus said, for once pulling on clothes in a frantic attempt to hide her offending orifices. "They're going to see us!"

"They're going to smell you regardless," He growled, hearing the telltale sounds of cackling and brutish grunts in the underbrush. "If you don't have a mind to become a broodmother tonight, shut your mouth and get your dagger ready. You're gonna need it."