Sex and the Spellplague

Lura panted heavily.

Her black hands refused to budge from Hammer's expansive chest. She gazed down at his handsome features, the strong jaw, stubbled with several days worth of growth, his lips that glistened in moonlight, and his ever-intense eyes. They bored into her own, like a beholder's eye beam searing into her soul. Her heart pounded in her chest, and not just from the methodical, rough way she ground her hips into the big man. Nor was it solely from the feeling of her loins shattering and stirring over and over again from his thick length.

Thick, calloused hands slid up her flanks, tickling the thin skin around her ribs, and moved to her breasts, swaying heavily between the two lovers. He pressed them tight against her torso, the pads of his thumbs sliding roughly over her hard, violet nipples. She gasped at the sensation, and then again as his index fingers pressed her turgid buds against his thumbs, rolling them around delightfully.

Lura slid one of her soft hands to his neck, over the stubble on his face, and through his long, dark hair. She felt sweat underneath the dry surface of his mane, and relished in the warm, moist feeling. She rocked her hips harder against him. His member did not slide in and out so much as it slid back and forth within her hot chamber. Her loins stroked him, using her masterful control over those intimate muscles to squeeze as she ground against him. She wanted his pleasure, to see it on his face. The side-effect of milking him was a more intense pleasure from his every movement. Soon, her climax was upon her, but the barbarian showed no sign of slowing.

Lura put her hands on either side of his head, laying her body atop his full and forcing his hands to roam her back and bottom.

"I want you to release in me, Hammer," she said, her voice husky and ragged. "Do not leave any for a second go. Give it all to me, my big man. I want the full power of the North filling my loins. Give it to me...Ah, yes! Give it to me!"

Caught off guard by her wanton words, Hammer found himself complying without a thought. He gripped her back, pressing her lithe body fully against his massive bulk. Hammer held her tight, his arms and shoulders tensing as he squeezed her tight. He began thrusting his hips up into her, meeting the backward glide of her hips with a forceful thrust from his own. She grunted loudly, one might say whorishly, into his ear. It was a growling, almost feral sound.

"Harder, Hammer," she said, her voice breaking with every bone-jarring thrust. "Give it all to me, I need it. All of it! I'm cumming, my love, I'm cumming! Cum with me!"

His sack clenched up against his body, his cock suddenly inflaming as mighty, potent torrents of virile seed poured into her canal.

Lura felt her entire body opened up as her orgasm shook her. She buried her face in his neck and shoulder, her grunts and moans muffled by his damp skin. Again and again, heavy, hot cum spurted deep into her, splattering against her walls, filling her deepest, most intimate recesses.

And as quickly as it came, it was over. She almost wept, and felt tears in her eyes, though she knew not why. It had been so powerful and body-shattering, yet so quick that she scarcely felt she had a chance to enjoy it. It imprinted on her mind though, a moment she knew she'd remember until her several-century life ended.

She stayed there, unwilling to remove herself from the barbarian's lightly-haired, glistening torso. The drow also doubted that she could manage to lift herself off the barbarian's as of yet unflagging member. The great length and girth impaled her deeply, and her legs were a-quiver and unsteady. She knew, though, that Celise and Calafein would be arriving soon. This was the designated location for their meeting, and the appointed time was near.

It was irrelevant to her, though. Basking in the warmth and power of Hammer's gentle embrace, she couldn't think of any other place in the world she'd want to be...

Mikhail came soaring back into her mind like a meteorite. The man she had confessed her love for, and vice versa, was back in Everlund, with her friends, likely caring for Varla, who had suffered greatly. Hammer and she had left on a far-fetched mission to recruit a group of dark elves encamped in the nearby forest to pose as a drow army from Menzoberranzan seeking to take Everlund as a puppet state. In doing so, she hoped to find the mastermind of the corruption running rampant in the fair city.

And here she was, the fate of her friends, of goodly citizens in her and Hammer's capable hands, frolicking in the ground with Hammer, and not even for the first time!

Guilt weighed heavily on her heart, and Hammer felt her sudden change of mood.

"What bothers you?" he asked. "Certainly you are satisfied by our exertions." A grin was on his face, but when Lura propped herself up on her chest, crossing her arms and resting her chin on her wrists, the expression on her face wiped the grin away.

"The situation in Everlund is dire," she said, though there wasn't as much conviction in her voice as there should have been.

"And you feel as though you are betraying...Everlund," he said. He didn't doubt her dedication to the city's plight, but had a feeling there was more underlying.

"Perhaps," she said, blinking.

"As far as Everlund goes," he said, running his strong hands through her soft, white mane. He continued stroking her hair as he spoke, "we are doing everything in our power. There is down time while we wait for our new allies, and we are taking advantage of it. As far as Mikhail is concerned, you were quite convinced that he would understand the first time you laid with me."

He hit the nail on the head.

"That is not what gives me pause," she said. "I fear--"

"I hope we're not interrupting," a melodious, accented voice said.

Hammer and Lura glanced over to see Celise, gloriously clad in splendid vestments of spidersilk and gold, intricate lacework resembling spider webs decorated the gown and did little to leave her feminine physique to the imagination. A mace hung from a strong belt that cinched the spidersilk gown around her waist, and several wands were strapped about her thighs. A golden circlet, a large amethyst in the center, adorned her head, holding her web-styled hair back.

Beside her, Calafein, looking very much like the young priestess's champion, wore supple black mesh armor, twin longswords at his hips and his hands resting easily on their hilts. His white hair was slicked back by some oily substance and was cut to shoulder length. He had a grim expression on his face. Filtering through the shadows, forms flitted in Lura's darkvision. Her drow army had been assembled.

Glancing down at Hammer, she kissed him, a new smile on her face. She stood, still somewhat unsteady, and pulled her red robe down from a low branch. Hammer picked himself up as well, drawing up his leather breeches and a sleeveless tunic. He slowly went about tying it up the middle, but left it open at the chest. His body was still overheated.

Lura pulled on her red robe, and it fitted her to her whim. Celise found herself watching in envy as its shade darkened to a deep crimson, as much of the fabric became translucent and wove a spider web appearance. The lines crossed strategically, covering her breasts and other intimate parts. It rested slimly on her drow frame, tight around her moderate breasts, slightly looser about her slender waist, and hugging her supple hips. The ankle length gown looked very much like a drow matron's garb, and Celise narrowed her eyes in envy.

"How do I get a garment like that?" Celise asked.

"Find your goddess," Lura said, "and make sweet, passionate love to her."

Celise chuckled. "A fine tailor, then," she said.

"No," Lura said. "That wasn't a metaphor." She grinned widely, winking at the blushing drow.

"I believe the two of you can discuss the finer points of fashion at a later date," Calafein said, smirking at Hammer. "We have a job to do."

*****

Varla groaned. It was much too early. Or late? The woman couldn't be certain. There was something warm next to her, nudging her. She blinked her eyes open, but couldn't make anything out past her blurred vision. A film of mucus covered her eyes, blinding her. She closed and rubbed them, then opened again. There was light, after all, an early morning, blinding radiance that lit the room with vision-stealing fire. The woman promptly planted her face in her bed again.

The stench of days old sweat forced her away, though. She rolled clumsily out of bed, and hands were on her shoulders, stabilizing her as her head spun wildly. Her stomach roared.

"How long have I been in bed?" she asked. She turned toward the hands on her shoulders and saw Mikhail there.

"Several days," he said softly, smiling at her.

She started to yawn, but a throbbing pain as her jaw opened wide blurred her vision. "What happened to me?"

"It is a long story, but I will make it short for you. You got caught up in some bad stuff, Varla. I don't know what kind of narcotics you were feeding yourself, but when we all saw you beaten, raped, and bloodied, Hammer went into a frenzy, hunted down whoever did it, and killed them all. Now he and Lura are out hunting for a way to dissolve the corruption breeding in Everlund before it spreads."

Varla's eyes were downcast. "You took care of me?" she asked.

He smiled. "Myself, Cyra for a time, Lura, Hammer...Greta was here just as much as me, though."

"And Samon?" she asked. A shadow crossed Mikhail's face, and that was all the answer she needed. "Well, I cannot think you all enough," she said. She put a long-fingered hand on his cheek and reached up to kiss him. When he didn't immediately return the gesture, she kissed him again, and again, until she felt him respond. Her hand, almost instinctively, went to the waist of his pants, but was seized an instant later by his own.

"You are not well," he said. "I do not want to inflict any more pain on you than you've already endured."

"I've rested for days," she said softly. "My body has healed, and I have not felt the touch of another in a long while. Not a friendly one, at least. Please, Mikhail, I'm not asking for much."

It could have been the fact that her slender, noble form, if slightly on the hungry side, was covered only by a thin, short chemise. It could have been the way her hand eagerly snaked into his trousers. And it could have been the pleading look in her eyes, begging to feel love on her body for the first time in who knows how long. Whatever the reason, Mikhail felt his body favoring her before his mind had a chance to consider the actions.

She kissed him deeply, her lips, dry and cracked, absorbing his saliva. He tasted several days worth of sleep in her mouth, but pushed past it. Indeed, his mouth moved from her lips to her cheek and skin, which was a slightly more pleasant, salty taste. "Wait," he said, and she barely hesitated as her hand reached his growing member. "You need to bathe."

Blushing, the tall woman stopped. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling very self-conscious. Smiling, Mikhail put his arm around her, her hand slipping out of his breeches as he led her to a large, oblong tub. Benefast had been kind to Lura and all her friends by hiring an ingenious gnome engineer. Mikhail turned a knob and water flowed freely from a spigot. It quickly warmed to a pleasant temperature, and Mikhail helped Varla remove her chemise, baring her stiff body. Holding his hand, the scarlet-haired woman climbed into the wide tub, and Mikhail pulled up a stool as well as a small basket filled with cleansing materials.

She laid in the tub, watching as Mikhail poured a fragrant oil into the water. The rapidly moving water excited the oil, and thick suds formed around the top, shrouding her naked body from sight. The water tingled around her as that sudsy oil began to clean the surface of her skin. She let out a long, soft sigh and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

Mikhail moved the stool around to the head of the tub and began to gently rub water into her hair and scalp, massaging her cranium as he went. He pulled the stopper out of a crystal vial and immediately a sinus-cleansing mint scent assaulted them both. She giggled a little as it tickled her senses, but then sighed as an overwhelming relaxation fell over her. Mikhail began to gently massage the mint oil into her cheeks, forehead, and over her sinus cavities. When he finished, he rubbed the excess oil down her neck and over her shoulders, his fingers barely dipping into the sudsy, warm water.

Varla heard the rustle of a towel as Mikhail wiped his hands, then the tinkling of glass and the pop of cork coming loose. She could smell jasmine and a mingling of other floral scents, then felt the cool, thick liquid drizzling into her scarlet hair. Mikhail replaced the stopper and began to gently rub the cleaning agent into her hair, again massaging her scalp as he lathered up the long locks. She let out a small sigh, smiling a small smile. His hands slid down the lengths of her hair, making sure to leave no inch unclean.

"You are very thorough," she breathed, still purring slightly.

"I take pride in my work," he said.

Varla felt very much at ease, as if every fiber in her body had gone slack with much-needed relaxation. The tingling, soapy water reached into her deepest parts, and throughout the entire session with Mikhail's hands, she'd been nursing her tingling arousal. She watched as he reached in front of her with a glass pitcher, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow and leaving his sinewy forearms, laced with blue vines, exposed. She felt a cascade of warm, tingling water crash down on her head, rinsing the cleansing oils from her face and hair. She twisted, almost serpentine, in the tub and pushed herself up, one hand grasping Mikhail's face and pulling him down into a wet kiss. Her trunk was fully out of the tub, and water ran in thick rivulets down her neck and chest and dripped onto the floor from her body. Her nipples grew turgid in the air outside the warm bathwater, and served as foci for the falling water to fall from.

"Join me," she said, slowly letting herself slip back into the comfortable water. "The tub is large enough. You can clean me thoroughly."

Unable to turn such an offer down, Mikhail slowly stood from his stool, pulling his loose tunic over his head and pushing his breeches down so that he could step out of them. Varla's gaze glued to his semi-erect member and she licked her lips subconsciously. Mikhail lowered himself into the pool of water, feeling the cleansing suds clinging to his body and tingling on his skin. He slid his legs underneath Varla's, spread to either side of her hips, and she slid forward, her own long limbs wrapping around his waist. She kissed his cheek, her hands sliding down his lithely muscular arms to his hands. The woman pulled them to her waist and slid them up to her pert, nobly compact breasts. He pressed into them firmly, massaging them and running his thumbs over her small, turgid nipples.

She gasped, her hands moving to his face as she rose up on her knees. Her mouth was agape and his gaze locked with hers. The deeply tanned buds of her nipples had a raw sensation, almost oversensitive as his fingers ran over them, but the feeling made her insides melt. She could scarcely breathe, much less speak, and the way her insides twitched at his ministrations made her need only increase. As if knowing her needs, his hands slid down to her hips, one remaining at the junction of her slender thigh and hip while the other curled down into the small cleft of her snatch.

Varla gasped, her eyes going wide, she let out a long sigh, her lips curling into a smile as her eyes closed. She fell forward, her chest against Mikhail's face, and he took advantage of that by kissing and suckling on her breast flesh. She felt his invading fingers sliding over her slit, which was hot and wet even immersed in water. Her lips draped over his fingers, spreading beneath them like a cloyed, hot cocoon. When one of his slender digits slid into her canal, though, she winced and grunted in pain, clutching Mikhail's hair to steady herself. He had not lied about her being raped, she realized. She didn't want to think about that, though. Didn't want to think about the damage done to her insides by whoever she had been with, willingly or otherwise.

"There's blood," Mikhail said to her. She shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said. "Please, Mikhail..."

He nuzzled against her again, suckling at her soft skin. It was clean, and he enjoyed her taste. His finger slowly slid deeper into her, even though her body felt rigid as a board. She clung to him, almost painfully at times, as he began to curl his finger inside her, gently stroking the bundle of nerves at the roof of her canal. She whimpered and relaxed a little, as if it was some sort of master lock that controlled all the tension in her body. If he would have thought more on that idea, he likely would have believed it was true of nearly every woman.

She began to ease herself off him, releasing the bundle of hair she'd clung to and letting her hips sink down deeper into the water until she bumped against his rigid length. Her breath caught in her throat and she found herself staring Mikhail in his eyes. He offered nothing, but she could tell by the way he held his breath in anticipation that he wasn't going to stop her. Reaching down tentatively, she took his length in her hand, finding that she appreciated the size, and pressed its head against her entrance. She let out a slow exhale as she gently slid herself down his rigid length.

Tingling water and hard flesh filled her loins, and she felt both keenly as they pushed past her bruised insides. She winced again, her face a grimace as the pain shot through her canal and caused her body to shake in Mikhail's arms. When finally her hips locked against his, he held her trembling body there. Slowly, she calmed, and he attributed it to the soothing properties of the tingling water. She began gently rocking her hips back and forth. Her breathing quickly became ragged as her movements became sharper, more insistent and greedy.

She gasped as his cock rocked back and forth inside her, the tingling water exciting her canal beyond measure. Whimpers sounded from her lips, and Mikhail found his eyes riveted to her slender face. Water sloshed about them, much of the sudsy liquid splattering on the ground. Mikhail slid his hands down her back, feeling her soft, rounded bottom, then spread warm, tingling water up her back to her neck. He buried his hands in her wet hair, which looked almost black in its wet state.

Varla's hands clasped his cheeks, holding his face as her forehead pressed against his. She kissed him frequently, soft lip-kisses, her tongue occasionally darting out to taste his lips or his skin. The feeling of his rigid manhood stirring her canal, though bruised and battered from several days ago, sent molten fire up her spine, something she hadn't felt in a long time, not genuinely and not sober, at least. Tears formed in her eyes, a mixture of pain and affection welling up inside her into a potent brew of emotion.

Losing herself in the moment, Varla didn't bother moderating the approach of her climax. She simply let what happened, happen. Mikhail sat up straight, bending her back slightly, and slid a hand down to her pert bottom. He squeezed it, a sensation that drove the woman wild with pleasure. His mouth ravaged her neck, suckling and licking, gently nibbling here and there. She felt his fingers reaching into the cleft of her bottom, sliding up and down the length. She clenched her hands on his back, mouth open wide as she panted and jerked her hips back and forth. Quiet, squeak-like moans escaped her throat, echoing in the small bathing chamber, which was much like a recess in her bedroom wall. She felt a finger, still somehow thinly veiled by a sheath of oil, pressing against her tight nether portal. She'd not felt any damage to that part of her body, but knew that it had surely been savaged repeatedly during her drug induced haze, several days ago. Regret welled up in her throat, but Mikhail's loving, oral caresses against her neck washed it away. A finger tip pressed into her anus.