Neverwinter Heat

Venos reclined in the bath-house of Mask's Bounty, a pleased smile on his lips. Iliara, Cyra, and himself had spent a few days under Myrynda's care, the two ladies not quick to leave the comfortable bedchamber they had been sharing with the drow. Venos, for his part, had been given his private lodging as well as credit to spend however he wished, be it booze, drug, or pleasures of the flesh. Being averse to both the effects of alcohol and drugs, he had elected to purchase only food and physical comfort.

Thus far, he had eaten more than his share, enjoyed the skillful hands of half a dozen masseuses, and still managed to keep his physical training keen. His room was large enough that the spinning, vicious attacks he practiced didn't threaten to destroy any of the finery.

Venos closed his eyes, head resting against the comfortable headrest in the bath, the water disturbed by magical jets that pumped warm water and air into the tub, setting the tub to roiling.

A distinctive splash opened his eyes, and he looked into the face of a familiar face, one he had no expected to see. Black hair was pulled back behind pointed ears, full, pale breasts capped with rosy nipples, which were capped by intricate metal-work holding her nipples erect. Delicate silver chains wrapped around her waist, hanging from her shapely hips and attached to sapphires dangling from her navel. The elven woman had been the first he'd met in Luskan, and her dark grin belied a measure of hidden knowledge.

"Venos Larque," the elf said. "You remember me, I trust?"

"A hard face to forget," he said, and the elf giggled in a way that made him suspect something was afoot.

"Truly," she said, slipping into the water and removing the clasps from her nipples, revealing the hard, turgid nubs to the warm water—and Venos's suddenly hungry eyes.

"You...work for Myrynda?" he asked, still trying to piece together how this elf had found him.

The elf couldn't help but giggle, then sigh. "Have you fucked her?" the elf asked.

"No," Venos answered, a bit too quickly.

"Ah, no taste for drow flesh?" the elf asked, as if commiserating.

"It's not that," Venos said, uncertain. "I just...I don't seduce women. It's the other way around, most often. She didn't seem interested."

"So, you would if she came on to you?" the elf asked, slinking through the water, her breasts floating atop the water as she reached the deepest point of the pool.

"I...yes? Why are you asking these strange questions?"

"I must take your measure," the elf said, moving toward his seat. He felt long, strong fingers on his thighs, sliding ever so slowly up to where his cock floated in the water.

He clamped his hands down on hers. "I still do not know your name," he said flatly.

"Is that a tradition of your kind?" she asked. "To know someone's name before they fuck you?"

His voice caught in his throat. "Um. Yes?"

"Fine," the elf said, standing up tall and backing away slightly. She began to peel skin from her face, around her jawline, forehead, and—Gods, she's a drow! The skin—or rather, the mask!—peeled away and fell into the water, floating, revealing the stunning, exotic beauty of the drow woman. "I am Lirafey, formerly of House Mourlefey, now an outcast serving...whoever serves me best."

"Goddess," he oathed, seeming to sink into his seat more and more, trying to retreat.

"Oh, relax," she said, sliding forward again, planting her hands on his thighs. "I'm not going to hurt you. If you must know, I am quite friendly with both Myrynda and her sister, who is a Chosen of Sune, if you can believe that."

"But, I..."

"Shut up," she said, planting a kiss so deep and vicious on his lips that he was still trying to talk when her tongue rammed its way into his mouth. Finally, he stopped murmuring into her mouth and returned the kiss, his strong swordsman's hands gripping her back, sliding up into her hair as the locks—now snow-white—cascaded over his face, dipping into the water to pool around them. He felt her breasts against his chest, and as she sat atop his lap, straddling him, he felt the little metal chains around her waist bouncing against his hard abdomen.

He could feel how hard her body was and knew that she was no stranger to martial combat. He filed that detail away for later, assuming there was a later with this drow. His erection betrayed his hesitance, and she grabbed on tight, her strong hand stroking him under the water before pressing the fattened head against her vulva. He could feel how slick she was despite the water enveloping them. Moreover, he could feel how slick she was inside as she lowered herself down the hard length. She growled into his mouth, her teeth biting down on his lower lip. No stranger to lovemaking, Lirafey began gyrating her hips, grinding herself against him, stirring her honey pot with his rod.

Her efforts became more and more violent, slamming her hips down into him, splashing water out of the tub, her grunts turning to loud moaning, and Venos noticed in his peripheral vision the curtain partitioning off this magically lighted bath fluttering regularly, as though they had an audience. He moved his hands down her back, gripping her rear and squeezing the hard, strong cheeks as hard as she could. She grinned at him, a wolfish appearance on her angular, black-skinned face. Laughing wickedly, she bit him again, hard, on the neck, leaving an angry red mark where her teeth dug in as his skin began bruising almost immediately. He couldn't help but grin back at her, throwing himself fully into fucking her. He even pushed back against her wildly slamming hips.

But that could never be enough. Agile, and a capable wrestler, Venos bucked his hips suddenly, off-balancing the drow and spinning them both around. Her back hit the wall of the bath hard, her head whipping backward before coming back to his. Her legs locked around his waist, squeezing tight as he slammed himself into her, his strong hips making quick work of pummeling her womb. She howled, hands—and fingernails—digging into his shoulders. He knew he had to be bleeding from at least one fingernail. His hands on her waist, he used his strength to slam her down on his shaft every time he thrusted in. She wailed now, unable to even close her mouth as it gaped open from pleasure.

His sack was slamming into the soft skin of her ass, and he wondered what her asshole tasted like. A delicacy to sample at a later date, he decided, turning the drow over and grabbing a fistful of her hair. He entered her from behind, sack slamming into her clitoris as he drove hard and deep every time, jostling her entire body. She howled in ecstasy, and he felt warm fluid running down his shaft before it mixed with the water. His orgasm came a short while later, but he pulled out, his seed spraying all over her back. The white cum was pearly and contrasted starkly against her obsidian skin.

"Lolth's cunt," Lirafey oathed. "Do

all

surface folk have such sexual prowess? If so, I should have left the Underdark decades ago."

"No," Venos said. "Most of us are boorish and boring. You got lucky, it seems."

"Then I owe Tymora the best head I can give her," Lirafey said, jesting. The curtains fluttered again and another drow entered, this one naked save for a rag-like top and loincloth, both violet in color. She was thick for a drow, and not like Lirafey. This one was soft, a body built for pleasure, not violence, by Venos's estimation.

"Mistress," she said, offering Lirafey a towel to clean off with.

"Don't call me that, Shandra. I haven't been that for some time, now."

"I like it," she said, smirking and kneeling on the hard floor next to Lirafey. Venos finally let go of the drow, watching the cum sliding across her skin as she stood up tall. "Myrynda has prepared our room, finally. There are things afoot in this city that Jax may want to know."

"You refer to the mysterious murder?" Venos asked, and Lirafey arched her brow at him.

"What do you know?"

He detailed the description of the woman they had learned about, and the confrontation Myrynda had shared with he and his lady friends. Lirafey shrugged, her heavy breasts bouncing. "That helps little. We need to know her motive."

"Let us work together," Venos said, eager to make progress on this mystery.

"Calm down, stud," Lirafey said. "Shandra and I will do what we need to do. If we need your help, we will let you know."

Venos scowled a little.

"You didn't think this meant anything more than pleasure, did you?" Lirafey asked, taking hold of his cock. Now Venos was angered. "You surface folk have such strange hearts. Until next time, my dear stud."

Lirafey removed herself from the bath, uncaring for the cum sliding down her back as she and Shandra left, not bothering to dress. Remembering the drow's mask, he looked for it, but it was not to be found. Sighing, the warrior resolved not to fuck that particular drow again. He wasn't fond of meaningless copulation.

It was wonderful, though.

*****

Luriia Torviir had finally decided to do away with her alias, Lura Darklust. With her sister in the city, her family name had become relevant again, and she wanted to embrace that while establishing her own "House" on the surface, one borne of love, caring, and beauty. With Sune in her heart, Luriia felt truly at peace. Even now, she and Hammer, bearing their child Calafein, were standing in a vacant lot in the Bluelake District of Neverwinter. The foreman and city planner were with them, both of them burly, short men with an eye for architecture and construction. The city planner was reviewing the plans for the temple Luriia had proposed, but would not speak to her directly, going through Hammer.

She had accepted a measure of distrust from her fellow Neverwintan for her drow heritage, but Hammer was agitated about it. Luriia had done so much good in the world that he had seen, that there could never be justification for such treatment. It was only her words that kept his fury in check.

"It will be the grandest temple in all Neverwinter, greater even than the Celestial Temple," the foreman said exuberantly. Luriia had just married the man and his wife, a portly woman with a golden heart. He was fawning over Luriia, to which his cohort would only scoff and sigh. "A work of beauty and art befitting glorious Sune and her servant in this city, Luriia Torviir!"

"Good man," Luriia said. "You flatter."

"It is well-deserved," Hammer said, putting his arm around his wife. Calafein murmured, sleeping against his thick arm and shoulder.

"If we are quite finished," the city planner said leadingly.

"You may go," Luriia said, smiling warmly at the man. She didn't have to use magic to convey Sune's charming presence within her. He blushed, abashed, and left.

"Many thousands of gold pieces will go into this temple," the foreman said, nodding. "As long as the workers are paid, it will be the fastest project to ever be completed on the Sword Coast."

Luriia nodded, smiling. "They will be paid handsomely from our personal coffers."

The foreman nodded and smiled, walking away muttering his gratitude.

"We have personal coffers?" Hammer asked, surprised by her words.

"House Torviir has deep pockets," she said with a smile.

"You mean..."

"I absolutely mean the original House Torviir. I have secured a means of acquiring the wealth the now-dead House contained. Matron Baensek has been a generous partner."

"You are certain she is of similar weal?" he asked his wife, and she nodded, taking Calafein to nuzzle her babe.

"Alluva Lovedrake assured me," she said with a smile.

"How are she and her daughter. And Vath?"

"Prospering. They have set up a lucrative operation in Cormyr selling sculptures and...well, you remember what we heard of the Lovedrake store in Everlund. All manner of faux cock for all manner of buyer."

"I recall," Hammer said with a laugh. "Let us return home. Calafein must sleep in his bed and I must have my wife." The barbarian, filled with passion for his wife, had never ceased his intimate affections, even during her pregnancy. They had increased, if anything. Neither of them were short on pleasure, and it was a miracle of Luriia's divine magic that he ever had spare energy for Myrynda.

As the couple and their child made their way home, they were intercepted by a messenger wearing a white robe trimmed in black and gold, bearing the symbols of all the gods represented in the Celestial Temple. Hammer was immediately defensive—he had grown more so since his run-in with Varla. The whole ordeal had been upsetting to them both, and they had both been on the lookout for the scarlet-haired woman and her strange magic.

"Greetings from Lady Tyran Courte," the woman said. "The Mistress of the Celestial Temple invites you both, and your child, to her temple, to discuss adding your goddess to the pantheon worshipped at her palace of worship."

He handed them a scroll, and began walking away.

They both regarded the scroll with wary eyes. They'd heard of the Celestial Temple, of course, and while they had meant to visit the place and bring Sune's blessings with them, they had felt a certain reservation about doing so.

"Do we go?" Hammer asked his wife. The drow smiled.

"Of course," she said. "But I know my purpose. We will build a beautiful temple to Sune here in Bluelake. It would be poor manners to decline the invitation, though."

Hammer smiled. "And Calafein?"

"No reason to bring him into this. His nurse can care for him for a few hours. She's a trustworthy sort, after all," she said, patting Hammer on the bottom.

It took them an hour or so to get everything squared away, and the couple enjoyed a leisurely walk through the city. Neither of them were armed in any way; Hammer was confident enough in his bare hands and Luriia was possessed of plenty of magic if trouble should arise. Moreover, it would not do to accept a gracious invitation armed for combat. Wearing her magical red robe as modest evening gown, Luriia held Hammer's hand, her small drow palm dwarfed by his massive, calloused hand. He wore fine black linen clothes, his tunic unfastened enough to reveal the cleavage of his thick chest and the soft hairs sprinkled upon it.

The walk took them a good long while, but they were a hearty couple, and the minor discomfort on the soles of their feet cost them little peace of mind. The Celestial Temple soared high above them, its highest point dozens of feet in the air.

"Well, this is a magnificent exercise in extravagance," Hammer said, sighing as he wrapped a thick arm around his slender wife. The massive, black lacquered double doors opened, the gold trim and details gleaming in the evening sun. A half-orc wearing fine garments and with a dignified look upon his square-shaped head greeted them, holding his hand out as if beckoning them. He spoke with a cultured voice, clearly having been trained in speech and decorum.

"Please, my lord and my lady, come with me. The Lady Tyran Courte awaits ye in her visitation room," the half-orc said. Hammer and Luriia followed, arm in arm. Neither of them could quite keep from watching their surroundings for anything amiss.

But they arrived at Lady Tyran Courte's visitation room without incident, and without seeing anything other than a scant number of acolytes keeping the temple clean and well-ordered.

"Master Thunderborn, Mistress Torviir," the woman said, her golden eyes, skin, and hair gleaming in the bright light. She was beaming joviality, arms held wide to embrace them both. Neither Hammer nor Luriia were oblivious to the way her large, too-firm breasts pressed against them enticingly. It set them on their guard, rather than relax and excite them.

"Lady Courte," Luriia said. As Chosen of Sune and the head of her unofficial church in Neverwinter, Hammer was more than happy to let her take the lead on this meeting. They both made a quick survey of their surroundings, including Tyran's appearance. Wearing a black and gold gown of superb make and enticing cut, she was certainly an image of beauty and seduction, and someone both of them would have welcomed into their fold in a heartbeat, not a year past.

The entire room was bedecked in symbols dedicated to the deities, both minor and major, represented in the Celestial Temple. Every deity, from Helm to Kelemvor, Mystra to Corellon, were represented by symbol across the header that wrapped around the room, though only a chosen few were represented with larger, stylized symbols. Luriia and Hammer took a moment to observe the artwork that went into the detail, admiring it before returning back to Tyran.

"I welcome you both, and Sune, into my temple," she said graciously, extending her hands to the side, then indicating two large, over-stuffed sofas, one for her and one for the couple. They all sat, Tyran across from them, and the half-orc steward appeared again, bringing a tray of tea and snacks. Neither were quick to sample them, but both reluctantly did eventually, as Tyran insisted.

"Your invitation is gracious, as you are," Luriia said with a smile, setting her tea down and clasping her hands over legs she had just crossed. Hammer reclined comfortably, but his eyes remained shifty, always watching. Tyran noticed this, and reached forward, placing a long-fingered, bejeweled hand on his thigh.

"Be at ease, great warrior. This is a place of peace. There are no weapons here. Only faith, hope, and bliss," Tyran said in her honeyed voice.

"All of which I have in plenty," Hammer said, his deep voice booming in the otherwise quiet room, purely by accident. Luriia smiled, placing her hand on his. "Forgive a warrior's habits."

Tyran nodded.

"You wished to discuss the inclusion of Sune as one of your chief deities in your temple?" Luriia asked, trying to get business underway.

Lady Tyran Courte nodded, smiling eagerly. "Long have we sought a sufficient representative of the Lady Firehair. We would be honored to have you and your followers join the temple," she said. "Of course, I speak for all our deities, but you would be sought out by specific petitioners of the Sunite faith."

"You'll forgive my hesitance," Luriia said, her tone formal. "I am Chosen of Sune. I bear in my being a shard of her divinity. I believe it is my purpose to speak for the Goddess wherever I am, and I do not think my Lady would appreciate my abdicating that honor and privilege to someone who does not serve her wholly."

"I understand your hesitance," Tyran said, smiling as a friend might. "Trust that my own celestial heritage is authority enough in these matters. My blood comes directly from Celestia, where your goddess dwells. Surely that would be preferable to Sune, having someone so closely aligned with divine interests as me speak for her here. Of course, you would be her favored mortal, blessed with her divine essence. But I believe my heritage trumps your claim, don't you?"

"Without hesitation," Luriia said, her normally benevolent smile fading away into something more reminiscent of a drow matron mother, "I do not believe that. You are only half a divine being, whereas I am infused with the very essence of Sune, the true divinity that makes her a goddess—not a celestial 'being.'"

Even Hammer was looking at her wide-eyed, unused to seeing her in such a state. Luriia was visibly irritated at this woman, he realized, and it took him a while to realize why. He'd grown comfortable around her, close to her—closer than anybody else in his entire life—and that proximity clouded his vision of what she truly was. This was no drow, no mere priestess or warrior, no matter how powerful. He had forgotten, until this very moment, that she was touched by her goddess in ways he and most others would never, ever experience. His heart was racing in his chest, his attraction and respect toward the drow growing by the heartbeat.