Preamble:
Cloudberry Chronicles is an erotic web series that follows the eponymous adventures of Cloudberry, an elf on a mission to save her homeland and bring peace. It predominantly features lesbian, pansexual and polyamorous characters who are both cis and trans for your reading pleasure. It contains scenes of mild peril and fantasy scenarios where coercion may be a sexual feature, eg. kidnapping and slavery (all stories come with content warnings).
Each story is a fully contained adventure, and the beginning of the smut (if you want to skip the lore and get right down to business) is marked in bold
. CC is written by dresspockets, a non-binary, polyamorous, switchy sapphic minx who wanted to see more diverse LGBT+ representation in fantasy elf smut.
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Cloudberry Chronicles Part II: Meltdown
CW and themes: fantasy, predicament play, magic, peril, temperature play, ice, melting, oral, sex, tiefling, elf, orc, male, drow, interrogation, threesome, bisexual, lesbian, transgender, nonbinary
When she asked you to make her melt, she probably didn't mean like this.
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The wind was still, and for the first time in a long while the sun had peeked out from behind the clouds, setting its rays upon the rough cut stone of an old drow temple.
It sat alone on a small, rugged island near the centre of a lake. In the spring, bluebells covered the island in a purple haze. In the summer, the grove of aspens quivered and shook their thick, greeny-yellow leaves. In autumn, thick clusters of red berries coated the bushes and the local swans prepared to migrate. In the winter, the snows came.
It was winter now, and as the pale sunlight trickled down through the leaves it dappled over the floor of the ruined temple and the exposed stairwell. A shaft of light fell down the stairs, down and down until it hit a wall of ice and refracted around the large ice cavern hidden beneath.
It was once the resting place of an artefact of terrible and forbidden power, the Joy of Just-Ice, a crystal ball that attached itself to the wearer and brought about the most intense sensations and control over the cold.
Now, however, it was a tomb.
The light of the sun faintly touched upon the figure of a woman, kneeling besides an ornate throne. Her face was trapped in a look of complete despair and hopelessness, her arm outstretched towards the Joy of Just-Ice itself, a sparkling silver ball.
This was her mausoleum, her final resting place. Together she would rest here, watching over the Joy of Just-Ice until the end of time.
There was a thump from outside. The kind of thump that usually meant heavy boots upon stone.
Another thump. And another.
The sunlight entering the cavern was cut off as the figures descended the stairs, blocking its path and filling the hall with long, looming shadows. Three shadows. Three sets of footsteps upon the stone.
Three figures filed into the cavern, two cloaked with heavy capes and hoods and one a dark shadow. Steam rose from their flaming torches as they wandered over to a raised dais and pool of frozen water.
Like Cloudberry had found before them, the cavern was warmer than the outside. The tallest among them was the first to shuck off their massive, fur-lined cape, revealing veiny green skin and well-defined muscles. An orc male, he wore his hair long and loose down his back. Glittering golden caps covered his tusks, one broken near the base and the other curling up and over his cheek. A braided beard covered his jaw. His green skin was only broken by the crisscross of scars over his torso. Spear wounds, knife wounds, burns and magic blasts; all healed over time. More than could be said of those who attacked him.
"Khargosh dear, check for traps."
The orc nodded and surveyed the nearest wall of ice.
"Enora, I trust you know what we're looking for."
The second figure inclined her head stiffly, a tall drow woman carrying a book that looked quite similar to Cloudberry's, which now lay on the floor by her feet gathering ice crystals. Her eyes were a deep crimson, almost completely black and they seemed to mock anything she looked at. Her mouth was a cruel, thin line that did not smile for any reason. Her outfit was a black leather ensemble, all straps and harness and barely any skin coverage. Drow had no need to fear the cold, and her lithe legs with skin the colour of crushed grapes were open to the elements. Her hips were narrow, giving her a wispy and feminine silhouette. Short white hair cascaded down one side of her face, the other side an undercut.
On her chest she wore the insignia of the drow Queen's personal executioner guild. An assassin. As she flipped through the book with deft fingers it became clear that some of the pages were unreadable, covered in the blood of its previous owner.
The commands came from the third figure, slightly smaller than the others, and plumper. Two twisted dark horns snaked out from beneath their hood and over their head, large enough to show that this must be a tiefling with many years behind them. They marched up to the dais with the statue of Cloudberry and the ornate throne, throwing off their black velvet cape and revealing a long train of thick dark hair, trailing behind them on the floor. Unlike the stoic and beanpole-like Enora, this tiefling rogue was a riot of sarcastic smiles and insolent curves. They walked with purpose, each hooved step a powerful blow, bouncing their breasts and exaggerating their wide hips.
They ran a finger across Cloudberry's back as they walked past, leaving a path in the condensation from her ass to her head, and with ceremony sat down in the throne of Just-Ice and surveyed the room. They crossed their legs, the leather of their trousers creaking, and tapped their long red nails against the arm of the chair.
Their skin was a deep and unmitigated crimson, the only darker patch being the lips, which were maroon like the twilight sky. Like the drow assassin, they had no need for many clothes to keep them warm. Demon ancestry gave them an inner fire that burned brightly through their veins. The cape, therefore, was for dramatic effect. They wore a simple shirt of white cotton, unbuttoned and fastened via a sash at the waist.
The tiefling curled their tail elegantly around their leg and quickly surveyed the scene.
