Kelsea's morning blowjob was more spirited than usual, her lips suckling against Roland's head like she was trying to taste his very essence. She shut her eyes, seeming to be enraptured, as though he were an irresistible taste to relish and enjoy. Roland put a hand against her head, pulling back her hair and rubbing against the bare skin of her forehead. "Stop." He murmured, his voice softer than usual.
"No." She said, pulling off of him and pulling at his pecker. "You like it too much."
"I do." He replied, his fingers tracing across the hard, grating surface of her demonic horns, "That's why I want you to stop."
She chuckled. "I'll stop when you actually mean what you say."
"You're a two-piece whore who's addicted to cock." He said, trying to change tactics. Kelsea merely laughed and continued to stroke him. Her very touch was sensitivity, her smile a hardening experience. She looked up at him with her red-tinged eyes and Roland found himself struggling to meet their gaze.
"I am addicted; to
your
cock, to be precise. Its smell, its texture, its taste..." She licked up along its length, allowing her long tongue to hang out as she went higher, ensuring he felt the whole of her prehensile appendage around his shaft, "Its owner." She finished, kissing his head as her tongue wrapped in a spiral up along the length, milking him with metronomic motions.
Nothing he did could stop her, nor contain her worshipful adoration. There were times when she seemed in full control of him, dictating his lust despite her supposed deference to him. But then there were times she seemed saturated by his own sexuality, as enraptured by his maleness as Roland was by her hellish femininity. It was a duality of thinking that left him panting as he lifted and lowered her face onto his manhood, roughly facefucking her as she hummed in her mouth. The vibration was a seismic noise within his nethers, eliciting a sudden, sharp feeling in his groin. He unloaded himself within her throat, giving Kelsea her morning breakfast before he'd had the chance to even pull his pants on. She slurped at his base as he emptied his balls, her eyes staring up at his with an infuriatingly inscrutable look.
When she had finished she pulled off of him, her tongue continuing to corkscrew his length as she cleaned him, leaving naught but saliva atop his half-mast rod. "Morning wood is great," She said, smacking her lips and licking the last of his precum off of the tip. "All cum, no need for buildup." Roland said nothing, pulling his trousers up and pulling his armor onto his chest. He'd long since resigned himself to her morning ministrations, it was already a chore to not continue the moment with a second session, this time involving her ass and a copious amount of her own juices for good measure. "Weren't you going to eat something?" She said, tilting her head quizzically.
"I'm not hungry." He said, strapping on his breastplate and packs. "Hurry up and get dressed, Kelsea." She did as he asked, casting extended glances his way as she did so. It was only later that he realized he'd never said her name out loud before.
They crept through the hedgerows of the outskirts of Rendhold, their twin footsteps moving softly through the brush and maze of tall bushes. When the young Succubus' smaller but more clumsy feet cracked a large twig on the ground, the mercenary gave her a dark look; she smiled sheepishly and they continued onwards, moving with care through the thickets as they neared their quarry.
They had found work - unglamorous, but work nonetheless - in tracking down a small band of poachers on the Lord of Rendhold's land. They had been preying on his private hunting grounds for weeks now, and the Castellan of the Castle had tasked the pair with finding and, if possible, dispatching the group. No trial was necessary, just a quick blade thrust and some promised gold. Roland had clucked his tongue in distaste but accepted the deal. Buying a room for two at every tavern they stopped at was starting to become a drain on his meagre resources, especially when the uppity little demon kept downing more mead than even
he
was capable of swilling.
Now they moved together, her limber body bending in pleasing ways as she loped along next to him, climbing a small hill behind which the clear smoke of a campfire grew. For all their skill at hunting, the poachers were none too subtle about their choice in camping location. A blind magpie would have noticed the smells and sights coming from a mile away; it was a wonder they hadn't been caught beforehand.
As they crested the hill, Roland's eyes espied their makeshift camp: a small copse of trees with a few haphazardly-erected tents surrounding a roaring campfire. The three men were down by the blaze: one skinning a newly-killed buck and two tending to the campfire. Judging by their similar appearances Roland guessed that they were likely siblings.
Poor unlucky sods.
He thought to himself,
Taking a blade to the belly for a couple of slabs of meat
. Sometimes he truly disliked his job.
"They're... they're just peasants." Kelsea said, her eyes spying the three men as they went about their business.
"Of course." Roland whispered back, quietly pulling his blade free and placing it carefully on the ground to his side. He didn't want them to know they were here until he was upon them; hunters with bows were a dangerous combination. "Were you expecting horn-helmed barbarians burning down villages left and right?"
"Do we have to..." She trailed off. Roland gave her a sideways glance.
"You're the oddest demon I have ever come across." He said, "Never 'afore heard of one of you caring a wick about somebody else, much less three nobs with a death wish for stealing."
"I was a human once, too." She said, returning a surprisingly fierce glare back at Roland. "I had to beg for bread like all the other smallfolk in my village at one time or another. I'd have killed to know how to hunt for meat."
"-And now you're
exclusively
a hunter of meat." Roland said, reaching back and planting a hand firmly against her back, pushing her jutting body down onto the ground again so they weren't spotted. "Keep your knickers untwisted, this is work."
"This is murder." She said. "They're just hungry."
Roland's shook his head, his red mane twisting in the wind. "Then they shouldn't have stolen for it. D'you see what
we're
doing for a couple of coins and some meat? These fools could have signed up to any local lord's banner and had a bellyfull by the evening."
"They still don't deserve to die." She said, "Let me talk to them."
Roland had to keep his voice down as he let out a low laugh. "
You
? And just what in the world are you gonna say to them? And how is that gonna help us get paid?"
"Not everything is about coin, Roland." She said, putting a hand to his face. He flinched from the contact, but did not pull away. Her fingers traced the curve of his cheek where he'd been cut by the banshee, scratching at the smooth, blemishless skin. "Let me talk to them."
"You purple-skinned harpy." He muttered, "Gods damn you if this goes south; they perforate you with arrows and I'm not gonna waste the time it takes to bury you."
She smiled at him, her lips parting to show the perfect, white teeth behind. "You would: you like me too much to leave me to the wolves."
"What the
fuck
are you talking about?" He asked, but she did not answer, instead standing up from her perch next to him and loudly descending the small hill to their encampment. Immediately a shout went up as the men dove for their weapons, hearing only the sound of an intruder and fearing the worst. Cursing his companion, Roland grabbed his sword and prepared to rise, but as if reading his mind Kelsea turned back to him and held up a hand.
Wait
, she mouthed before turning back and descending the hill.
In a flash the three were standing at the campfire, bows drawn, in a rough line pointing at her. The largest of them called out: "Halt! Or we'll empty our quivers into ya! Who're ya?"
Kelsea held up her hands, her deceptively human appearance causing the frightened hunters to hesitate. She put on the affectation of a surprised and scared village girl:"Don't shoot sirs! I-I'm just lost is all! D-d'you know the way to Rendhold Castle?"
The largest one gestured roughly with his nocked arrow. "Back the way you came. Piss off; we're the King's Men, on business."
Heedless, Kelsea took a few steps further. One of the lads loosed an arrow, landing hard in the ground in front of her feet. The Succubus let out a yelp; Roland cursed and moved to rise. "Wait!" The girl cried out, a strange notation in the way she spoke causing the mercenary to stop in his tracks just as surely as the three men below. "I'm just alone, is all! You say you're the King's men? C-could you help a lass get home? Or at least a meal? I've been lost in these woods for hours now. I ran out of food yesterday on the road. I can't..." she trailed off, her legs going unsteady in what should have been an unconvincing act. Yet even Roland - who knew the true intent of the ruse - was suddenly compelled to move to help her. With a grunt of displeasure he stayed where he was.
The youngest lad dropped his bow and clambered up the hillside to catch the 'fainting' Succubus. "Rett, stop him!" The oldest said, but the other one lowered his bow.
"Brenn this girl is harmless." He said, "Are we really gonna-"
"Shut up you foolish git." The oldest one said, his bow shaking. "What if this is a trap?"
"For the three of us?" The boy said, letting out a laugh. "Ain't we high and mighty now? They'd send a patrol, not a dazed girl."
The youngest one caught Kelsea in his arms, the overdramatic slut draping herself across his arms in an exaggerated lady-like swoon. "Thank you..." She whispered.
