The Song of Roland

Kelsea was true to her word. She left Roland to convalesce for the better part of a day, only awakening him early next morning with a stroking hand and a fond gaze. "Have you been watching me while I slept?" He asked, his eyes bleary as they stared up into her red-rimmed orbs.

"Yes." She said, unashamed of the admittance.

"You're a creepy Succubus, yeah?" He groaned, rolling over onto his back and stretching deeply.

"I wanted to make sure you were safe. I stayed up all night on watch duty."

Roland snorted, putting a hand over his eyes. "Usually when you're on 'watch' duty, you actually watch out for

other

things besides my face."

She grinned at him, her incisors sharp and pearlescent in the low light of the unrisen sun. "I did! It was just my point of reference." Her hands reached forward, gently massaging his bare chest with her body. She had still not put on clothes. Roland's hand idly reached up to cup one of her hanging melons, the heat of her purple body providing a pleasing contrast to the coolness of the morning. "Hmm." She murmured, leaning her chest so he could get a better handle on her. He compressed his fingers, trailing along the skin and nipple as she let out an exhale. He was naked too, beneath the blanket, and her reaching hand found purchase against his groin. Stroking his flaccid cock, she had him hard in seconds.

"There's no time." He said, looking up at her as she touched him and he groped her. "We still need to burn the bodies, pack up camp."

"Just a little longer," She replied. "We don't need to make a complete mess of things, but I like this."

Kelsea's fingers trailed across his hardness, her finger dragging a line down his urethra as she pressed gently against the bulging vein. She took him close in hand and began to stroke vigorously, panting as she watched in lurid fascination the way his prick bobbed and swayed at her broiling touch. As she picked up the pace, the battle-scarred veteran twisted in her grasp, his body still sore and pained from the night before last. As he reached his sudden climax, she leaned down, planting a deep kiss atop his mouth as he blew his load across his stomach, up his chest, and onto one side of her cheek. The Succubus chuckled in her embrace, the feel of cum on her skin a charming innuendo.

"Sorry." Roland muttered as she sat up and wiped at her face. Kelsea quirked an eyebrow and smiled with a sultry grin.

"You don't know Succubi too well, if you think

this

is something to apologize for." She punctuated her response by bending down opposite to him, licking down his chest, all the bits and globs of cum that had stretched itself across his body. She tongued his stomach, lapping at the hole of his belly button before moving to his navel. Her mouth calmly kissed the head of his cock, tickling the slit as she milked the last clinging bit of his seed upon her tastebuds. Pulling away from the strangely personal character of her tongue's caress, she turned back to look at him, a wan smile building on her face. "Ready to get up?" He nodded.

Days passed within the forest. After packing up camp as best they could and setting the slate of Imp corpses onto a pyre, the two hefted packs and walked side by side through the deep brush. The pair picked their way through the forest groves and emerged from the other side hungry and tired from their ordeal onto the low plains at the base of the Auroch Mountains. There, straddling a narrow pass through the snow-capped peaks sat the city of Dornich. Thanks to the rugged natural defense of the steep, daggerlike cliffs that sat at the north end of the city, the walls needed only to stretch in a rough, circular C around the brim of the swaying, wave-like lengths of the city's perimeter. Upon clearing the last foliage, the two traveling companions stopped at a small hillock to survey the sight.

"I came through here," Kelsea commented, shouldering her pack to her body, "On the way south, when I left Arjal."

"Did you now?" Roland said, idly lifting and lowering his long dagger into its sheath with his hand. He was on edge since the Imp attack. "You remember the market district?"

"Not well. I only stayed a day or so." She replied. She'd shifted her appearance to her more human-like deception. Even her breasts and plump rear were more restrained than they normally looked. "Had an Inn I stayed at back then though: the

Grousing Gaur

. It's not far from the western gate, if you wanted some good ale."

"You mean if

you

wanted some good ale." Roland grumbled, striking out onto the path leading to the main road from the wilderness, "You suck more alcohol down than you do my cum."

Kelsesa let out a contemptuous laugh, "Now

that

's an outright lie! After the haze I'm pretty sure I've coaxed a few gallons out of your package." He grunted in displeasure and she hurried to keep up with him.

They followed the road for an hour or two, reaching the blackstone walls of the city alongside hundreds of fellow travellers streaming towards the city. None took notice of them as they passed the western gate, ignored by the guards as still more refugees streaming from the south. Seeing so many people hustling through the walls, Kelsea glanced around and rose an eyebrow. "What's with the exodus?"

"You haven't heard?" Roland said, turning to gaze at her. She gave him a look, his mind returning to the story she'd told him of her origins. "Oh. Right. Well, word is the Undead are stirring again from their rest in the barrows. The Mortis Swamp is expanding again; last time that happened half the City-States burned. Lots of people are...

leery

of getting caught up in a war with the Necromancers again."

"Is that why we're heading north too?" Kelsea asked. Roland gave a curt nod.

"Not much coin to be had killing the dead, and a whole lot of unsavory risks to boot. I'll stick with monster hunting and demon fucking, yeah?" His hand reached around her waist to surreptitiously grope her bottom. Kelsea smiled and slipped a sneaky hand down the front of his trousers, squeezing appreciatively at his member amidst the crush of folks streaming through the gates. "Most of these poor sods won't get much charity from the city. And it looks like most are fleeing, rather than leaving everything behind of their free will. That means empty coin purses and packed inns."

"And some tasty meat." Kelsea said, licking her lips. "You don't mind if I..."

Roland shook his head. "It's been two weeks since I slept with a real mattress. If I wake up to some cheeky cunt fucking you on the same bed I'm sleeping in I'll break his arm and leave you tied to the bed as I leave."

"Mmmm." She moaned, her hand moving to pull his waist tight against her own. "I love it when you talk foreplay. Make sure to send in the second cheeky bugger after you leave, all right? I do so enjoy sloppy seconds. Also: use a reef knot, it chafes less."

Breaching the crush of persons who flooded the gateway, the pair picked their way across the winding, rolling waves of the city streets to reach the gilded district: a series of square blocks of individual open-air markets that weaved back and forth into each other in a dizzyingly complex fashion. Together the demoness and the mercenary reached Fighter's Alley, a long snake-like black and yellow roadway down which the whole of the carpenters, blacksmiths, armorers, and fletchers hawked their wares and plied their trade. Moving swiftly through the winding streets, the two searched for a time till they came upon a weaponsmith, hard at work bent over his forge. The two stepped inside.

"I need a blade." Roland said, tossing his sack of acquired gold from the village job where he'd claimed his newest hanger-on. The grizzled smith gave a long look at the bag, back at the heavily armed mercenary, and then down at his anvil again.

"Take a look. Rack is over there. Mind the heat." He rose his bare arm, the brown hair standing out upon it as he signaled to someone behind the furnace. "Hey!

Boy!

Stop the fuckin' pumpin' a minute, we got customers."

"What?" Came a voice muffled by the loud sounds echoing in the forge. The smith rose his voice and repeated the same uncouth exclamation, only this time with more spittle. Master and apprentice continued the back and forth as Roland and Kelsea ignored them, sidling across the cramped confines to the rack. They surveyed the rough assortment of mismatched axes, spears, and swords, clearly forged in the off time when the smith was not filling orders. There was a surprising myriad of different killing implements on display.

"You'll be needing something with reach." Roland said, reaching out to the rack and pulling a wide, flat baselard with a bronze-colored crosshilt from the rack. Its blade was far longer than his own, nearing the length of a full sword. "This'll stick an Imp through the belly well enough."

"Boring." Kelsea said, dismissing the blade out of hand. "And honestly: after last time I don't trust a dagger. I like

bigger

things that pierce." She winked at Roland. Her hands reached out as she leaned over the rack. The red-maned mercenary could not help but stare as her breasts shifted in her clothing as she draped herself across them. Reaching for a long, spear-like weapon at the back, she pulled it free in one swift, swinging motion and planted its pommel at her feet. "What is

this

thing?"

It was an esoteric tool, but one Roland remembered well from his days as a bounty hunter and bailiff. "That arse-backwards thing is called a 'Man-Catcher.'" he said, groaning inwardly at the wicked smile that grew on the girl's face when he said it. It consisted of a normal enough pole mounted with a two pronged head, forming a semi-circular shape with a spring-loaded "door" opening like teeth in the front. Spikes lined the inner curve of the half-circle, giving it a terrifying, almost fetishistic appearance.

"What's it do?" She asked, swinging the weapon to and fro, testing the weight of it. She spun it about effortlessly. Roland ducked a particularly spirited thrust.

"Gods, woman, have a care for my bloody head! It's what the name implies. Soldiers use 'em to pull nobles from horseback by the neck. Helps to garner a living ransom when you've got yourself a built-in set of cuffs." Roland watched the hungry gaze that entered her face when she looked at it. Impure thoughts swam across her features and Roland had to stop himself from laughing at the maniacal way she grinned.

"I like this weapon. It's my kind of implement."

"It's a fuckin'

tool

, not a weapon." Roland argued, "I'm buying you something you can protect yourself with, not nab a passing merchant for his cock."

"Why not both?" She said, draping the weapon across her shoulders as she shrugged her arms over it. "I love it, Roland. It's a big stick with a bondage brace on the top, how can I go wrong?"

The man let out a heavy grumble, glowering at the concealed Succubus as she smiled sweetly back at him. "You'll stand out like a sore thumb, lugging that thing around. What do I tell clients, eh? That ya got a kink for subjugation?"

"Tell them I bring our bounties in... alive." She said, putting on her most convincing affectation of a tough, weather-worn mercenary. She sounded like a Succubus trying to coax menace from her semen-encrusted lips. "Now I just need some leather straps and-"

"Gods, smite my unholy spirit now." Roland muttered. He turned to the smith, who was still yelling at his unseen apprentice. "We'll take this one."

Using her newfound toy like a walking stick, Kelsea strode proudly through the streets, attracting curious eyes and the occasional blank look as she led the way through the crowds towards their next destination. They reached the

Grousing Gaur

late in the afternoon, as the sun was sliding low over the hills and a cold wind blew down from the mountains. As they entered the inn, a raucous blast of sound and song arose through the din of yelling voices and swilling mead. As expected, the room was packed.

Sidling over to the innkeep, who stood nervously to the side near a dias, Roland took what little gold remained from his pocket and dropped it on the table. "One room." He said, "However many beds you can spare."

"We can't." The Innkeep replied. "We're fit to bursting as it is. Only got a single and someone already reserved it."

Roland let out an exasperated sigh, turning to Kelsea. "Well, fuck me." He complained, "Looks like we're playin' hopscotch for any inn that's open."

"Not so fast." She said, turning to the short innkeep. She draped herself across his dias with the kind of careless sexuality endemic of her kind. Fluttering her eyes, Roland could hear the barest hint of a spell on her lips as she spoke. "Excuse me, pretty boy. Are you certain that there's nowhere for us to stay? Nothing at all?"

He shook his head, "Nothing, miss. We're all filled up."

"But

I'm

not." She said, leaning forward. The nervous fellow reddened and began to stutter. "What's one patron over another, eh? Maybe you and I could discuss some business elsewhere. Just you and me."

The innkeep babbled and gave non committals, his face turning a bright color as he haltingly looked away. Kelsea laughed and cast a coy gaze to Roland. "Buy me a drink, will you? I won't be more than a few."

"Wash your hands after." Roland said, stepping towards the bar, "I don't want stains on my mug when you start swilling from it."

"No promises!" She called out behind him as he left, leaving her to grip the Innkeeper's hand tightly and lead him away upstairs to his own room.