Hello, everyone, and thank you for all the lovely feedback on the last story I wrote! This story is a joint effort, co-written by my lover, Realtrek, based on the roleplaying we like to do in a popular fantasy MMORPG setting. We both hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it!
~Titannia
*************************************************
It was one of those perfect, crisp evenings in the elven tree-city - not too cold, just brisk enough to put a little extra spring in everyone's step. There was that sort of clarity to the very air itself, that stirred the blood and made one want to dance, frolic, and seek out the finer pleasures life had to offer...
At the Sign of the Raven, in the common room, one such couple was enjoying said pleasures. The lighting in the back corner was shadowy, dim - so nobody noticed that Nevairre had her small slender hand pressed firmly against Faertok's crotch, rubbing his stiffened cock through the soft leather of his pants. In any case, the stout oaken table concealed her movement. The only indication Faer was giving was that his face looked a little flushed – but then, one might attribute that to the wine they were sipping. If the other patrons only knew the truth. The lordly, normally stoic elvish nobleman was having his control taxed to his limit. Though as of late, he had been more openly expressive of his feelings for Nevairre, right now, he was struggling to maintain that stoicism which had always come naturally and without effort. In his hand was a glass of wine, which had not been tasted for some long minutes now. He lifted the glass to his lips now, sipping at it, in a useless effort to relieve some of the heat he was feeling.
Under the table, she could feel his hips strain forward, trying to increase contact with her impudent little hand, while trying not to be obvious in any way of what she was doing to him. She smiled her sweet smile at him, and picked up her glass with her free hand. She sipped at it daintily as she watched him over the rim of her glass. Licking a droplet of wine from her lower lip, she set her glass back down, and deftly unfastened his pants with the hand that was under the table. This caused him to pause in mid-sip, his cheeks flushing furiously. Luckily, the dim lighting served as cover for his bright red cheeks and neck. She noted the flush on his face, and wrinkled her nose at him, her blue blue eys sparkling merrily. Once she had his soft leather trousers open, she slid her fingers inside, stroking his heated flesh. She ran her fingers around his cockhead, her thumb rubbing over his piss-slit, noting the wetness there. Well, he should be wet; she had been tormenting him like this for a good quarter of an hour now, which to him felt like MUCH longer. She slipped her hand all the way inside his pants, and closed her hand around his cock. She could feel the rigid flesh throb and pulse hard in her small hand, as if begging for more. She began stroking his cock, sloowly, deliberately, her thumb brushing the pre-cum from the tip of his cock, so that her fingers could massage it into his flesh.
All of this was making her incredibly wet, something she was all-too-aware of, given that she was wearing nothing beneath her blue silk-and-brocade dress. The dress had been a gift this evening from her lord, and was the most exquisite creation she had ever seen. The brocade bodice was lightly corseted, laced up the front, which served to push her full breasts high - so high, that if she drew in a deep breath, the top edge of her pink aereolas were visible, something that Faertok's eyes were drawn to many times during the course of the evening. His eyes moved to her cleavage now, and he slipped an arm around her, sneaking a quick moment to squeeze a breast, his fingers brushing against her nipple, making it point clearly and proudly through the silk fabric. She bit her lower lip lightly, then gave his cock a warning squeeze. His cock jumped in her hand - and for a moment he thought he might cum right then and there. He withdrew his arm hastily, fighting for control over his wayward cock. He sipped his wine, and forced himself to relax a little - as much as he could, considering he was being publicly jerked off. He took another sip of wine, and looked at his love, admiring her in the dress he had given her...
The skirt was panniered, of silk with brocade panels, and slits cut high up each leg. The fabric was cut so that when she walked, the silk seemed to undulate and move of its own accord, occasionally granting the viewer a flash of soft, pale thigh. She had worn her cloak here, not wishing to share that view with anyone but him. But when she sat down, the fabric fell away with her legs, giving him easy access to her bare skin.... Which he decided he was going to take advantage of now – heh, TWO could play at her game... This was, of course, what she had wanted when she had started her merciless cock-tease...
Nevairre sipped her wine again, trying to keep her expression non-descript and pleasant, as his strong hand worked its way up her leg and disappeared under the concealing fold of her skirt. She was well aware that they were in plain sight of anyone in the common room who might choose to look their way. The table was sturdy and solid - but still - it would only take a sound, a movement, to give away what it was they were doing. She continued to stroke his cock, and smiled at him when he discovered that she wasn't wearing anything beneath. The insides of her thighs were wet, and his fingers stroked over it, causing her to draw in her breath sharply. But still she smiled.
He mirrored her smile, glad she had done this for him. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and she opened her legs wider as his fingers found her wet lips and began stroking them. She bit her lip again, and sipped her wine, trying to appear as if everything were normal. But underneath the table, she couldn't help moving against his fingers, the tips of which he had slipped inside her cunt, his thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing that sensitive nub of flesh... she managed not to groan... instead tightening her grip on his shaft as she continued to stroke up and down his length. He managed not to groan as well, but could not resist moving his hips very, very slowly, very subtly, pumping his cock into her strokes.
At this time of evening, the common room was about half-full, people, mostly elves, quietly dining. But the corner Nev and Faer were sitting in was empty. All anyone would see, glancing over, was a loving couple, relaxing over their wine, as they quietly conversed with one another. Nevaiire stroked his cock a few more times, rubbing her thumb across his cockhead again, and then around the sensitive ridge of flesh that separated it from the shaft, smearing the wetness over his skin... there was more of it now, and his cock was throbbing harder. Just the feel of his flesh in her hand was making her even wetter...
She moved a little closer, kissing his cheek, using that opportunity to pull his cock free of the constricting leather breeches. There it stood, thick and proud and demanding, beads of precum forming at the tip - she had to resist the temptation to bend down and suck it into her mouth. She wanted so badly to lick away the drops, taste them salty on her tongue, to engulf him with her warm, wet mouth, and suck hungrily at him until he begged for release. It was like she was reading his mind, for his free hand settled far back on her cheek and jaw, cupping lightly at the back of her head, fingertips in her hair... a clear signal that he wanted desperately to push her head under the table and lovingly force-feed his cock to her. Not here, not now, not yet... it was the blatant secrecy that made these moments so arousing and maddening. To have relief so close.. but not be able to get it. Not yet, anyway.
