Amethystra
1
Lirafey Torvirr sat on her very large, very expensive chair, shapely thighs crossed as she watched the gray-skinned young man stirring in her bed. The white sheets she had chosen felt wonderful against her skin and contrasted beautifully with the obsidian black of naelf skin.
Not so much with the gray half-naelf's skin, though she supposed that wasn't too important in that moment.
The young man rolled onto his back, and the sheet tented over his hips. Lirafey couldn't suppress a smirk that slowly grew as her teeth inevitably pinched her lower lip. She stood, naked, and crawled onto the foot of the bed, knee-walking her way to the boy's hips. Carefully, she pulled the soft linen sheet away from his muscular torso, down his softly chiseled abdomen, until the young man's manhood stood tall before her. She admired its shape, but the scent of their night's activities assaulted her before she could truly appreciate him.
It was not at all unpleasant.
Taking great care to move slowly, she lowered herself down to her hands and knees, straddling one of his legs as she did so, as her lips wrapped around the crown of his cock. Her tongue swirled around the tip, coating him in her saliva as her lips, feeling swollen from the night's passion, slid toward his hilt. She could feel the half-elf stirring beneath her, his body shifting in the sheets as her mouth began to massage his manhood. Lira could feel his pulse against her tongue, the saltiness and sweetness of their lovemaking mingling together and thrilling her senses.
The naelf worked her head up and down, twisting side to side as she stroked him orally, tongue slithering all around his hard flesh. Her hands braced against his strong upper thighs and she threw herself into sucking his cock. She felt him pressing against the back of her throat repeatedly during her long oral strokes, then savored the sensitive underside beneath his crown during shorter strokes. His ash-colored manhood glistened as her obsidian lips spread spittle and more than a little of his own essence all along his shaft, and Lira could see the crystalline nectar pooling at the base of his cock, dribbling down his smooth sack. Under normal circumstances, she would have left off his cock and bathed his sack with her tongue, but now, first thing in the morning, she wanted only to drain him.
And she was close. She could feel it in his flesh, in the way his body kept spasming as he came fully awake, and in the way the taste of his cock changed in her mouth. It hit suddenly, and despite her expertise in the matter, she was surprised when he did climax. His seed hit the back of her throat first, and she struggled not to gag or cough around his flesh as more and more of his issue flowed into her mouth. Lira was able to keep pace, but she lamented the haste at which she had to swallow.
"Gods above," the half-elf said, sitting up in her bed. "What was that for?"
"A parting gift. Never again, Quilin Torvirr."
"You said that last time," he said with a cocky grin. "My mother and father are none the wiser, and it's not like you're truly my aunt. You forsook House Mourelefey and assumed my family name."
"It's not that," Lira said, leaning into her elbow as she reclined sideways on her bed. She could feel young Quilin's eyes on her full bosoms, the curve of her hip, and her sleek, long thighs as she rubbed them together. Despite her claim, she was certainly doing nothing to turn him away from his affections. "I am nearly two hundred years your senior. You should be waking up in the bed of girls your age. Felia, I hear, is quite the dynamo if you can get her away from her father."
"Adoptive father," he corrected, "and he would cleave my skull if he caught me with Felia again."
Lirafey smirked, licking her lips. "Regardless. It was a mistake for me to indulge your fantasies. Boys your age often long for older women, but I assure you, you'll be much happier with a girl your age."
"Why can't I have both?"
Lirafey laughed out loud. "By the Moonmaiden," she said, looking up to her ceiling, where a mural of the goddess Lunaire looked down at her, naked and graceful with eyes like full moons that glowed betimes. "I can't tell who you take after more," she said, "Luriia or Hammer."
Quilin shrugged. "You've been with both of them, haven't you?"
"If I were to base my judgment on that alone, I'd still not know," she said. "You are attentive and insightful as your mother, endowed like your father, and both of them are full of passion that seems only to be multiplied in you."
Quilin was grinning as she spoke.
"Last time," Lira reiterated, slipping off the bed and walking nude to her armoire. Quilin removed himself from the comfort of her bed, feeling quite ready for the day ahead.
"I'll see you tonight," he returned, slapping her bottom as he passed by.
She grabbed him by the arm, whipped him around, and drove her tongue into his mouth. He was quick to wrap strong arms around the woman, crushing her against his body. She felt his manhood prodding between her thighs—though it was far from the turgid flesh it had been moments ago—and his muscular chest against her soft bosoms. She may have been an imposing specimen of naelven femininity, but Quilin was his father's son, tall and muscular. Lira couldn't deny her excitement in feeling him this way.
As their kiss broke, she whispered, "No," while looking into his gray-blue eyes. Quilin grinned, then walked, naked, out of her bedroom, retrieved his clothes from the foot of her stairs where she had eagerly removed them, and dressed himself as he walked out of the front door. She may have denied his promise of meeting during the revel, but she knew full well that she would be hopelessly lusty for his thorough affections.
Lira was still staring into her armoire, the pleasant ache between her thighs from his youthful, passionate vigor reminding her that he was, indeed, quite up to the challenge of pleasing her. She should expect no less, of course. His mother was a powerful Paragon of Syrune, goddess of love, while his father was a mighty barbarian and, at one time, the divine consort of at least three different deities. As far as breeding went, Quilin was the cream of the crop.
Lira couldn't help a little smirk at that turn of phrase. Hammer's "cream" was no doubt the finest any would ever find as far as breeding goes.
The naelf shook her head, shattering the budding arousal as she considered the family she had thrown in with. House Torvirr was a reborn entity, one that had risen to power in distant, glacial Chambressir, far to the north, beyond even the realms of Aesir and Jotun. The naelves there had always been of dubious morality, and House Torvirr was particularly noteworthy for its trade in flesh—not slaves, but sex. Lirafey had been a daughter of a rival house, House Mourelefey, and when Luriia had returned to Chambressir with a purple dragon and powerful allies to rescue her sister and a conclave of rebels, Lirafey had been ordered to capture the naelf and return her for punishment.
After all, the incursion had not only destroyed an allied house, but had slain many, many Mourelefey soldiers. More than that, it had upset the balance of power between the prominent worshippers of the naelven deity Sinsri, a rapacious and sensational goddess, and those that had worshipped freely without her for centuries.
It wasn't until Lirafey met Luriia that she had seen the misguidance of her family and half of the city she had called home.
And subsequently fallen in love. Yes, Lirafey could admit that now, after years living in the city Luriia had miraculously constructed on the southern edge of the Free Marches. She loved Luriia Torvirr. Lirafey smiled, looked up at her goddess, painted on the ceiling, and said a prayer of thanks.
She thought the painting had smiled at her, just for a moment.
Knocking at her door broke her from her thoughts, and Lira threw a tunic over her head. It was long enough to eclipse her buttocks and preserve her modesty—not that she was overly concerned about such things—but thin enough that her obsidian skin shone through the white garment.
She opened her door to see an old friend, a former slave, staring back at her with violet paint on her lips and violet irises gleaming back at her. Matching scales accented her elbows and upper arms, as well as more intimate locations, Lira knew, though her robe hid them well.
"Shandra," she said to the dark elf smiling back at her, grinning wide. "It has been too long."
They embraced, kissed each other in earnest, and simply held each other for a long while before Lirafey invited her to sit with her in her not-so-modest two-story home, built on the third largest hill in Amethystra.
"Was that the Torvirr boy I saw leaving your home?" Shandra asked.
"Yes," Lirafey said with a conspiratorial grin. "I can't shake him."
"I could turn him into a horse," Shandra said, waggling her fingers in mock arcane casting. "Or a bull."
"Either would suit him," she quipped with a fond smirk.
Shandra laughed heartily, and the room seemed to fill with whimsical magic as she did so.
"What brings you to my humble abode?" Lirafey asked as the laughter died down. Shandra favored her friend with a smile, and Lira was momentarily jealous of her counterpart's fuller figure, plump lips, and the heavy bosoms bound up within her robe.
"I thought it was time," Shandra said mysteriously. With no further explanation forthcoming, Lira sighed. "You know I have been growing in power ever since Alluvamethystra died. My blood and spirit have united with her fully, at long last, and there is something I have been hiding. I want to show you first."
"I'm flattered," Lirafey said, smiling genuinely at the sorceress. "Here?'
"No, of course not," Shandra said. She closed her eyes and whispered. Lirafey felt the air sizzle with arcane energy all around her, then winced as a loud popping sound displaced her from her home and brought her to the gem-covered cavern that the ancient purple dragon known as Alluvamethystra—who was also known as Alluva Lovedrake in her human form—called home. Two shallow ponds flanked a long stretch of gem-studded stone that lead to the deepest part of the cave, where the encrusted bones of the late dragon now rested, and where Shandra devoted a majority of her time, gathering power. Directly above them was the Violet Tower, sat on the highest hill of the small city known as Amethystra, where a variety of arcanists studied their craft and otherwise served the realm around them.
