You emerge from the shadow, dripping condensation and breathing a sigh of relief as the sticky, cloying gloom parts before you to reveal a plaza resplendent with light. You have more experience with claustrophobic environments than most, the world of Squall’s Landing forever limited to the nearest few metres at best. But you aren’t quite used to the clinging shadows yet, with only distant dim lanterns to guide the way. You also aren’t used to this paradoxical veil that is at once tangible and not. How you could not fall through something that others could easily fly through is beyond you. Thankfully, you didn’t have far to go before you’d be able to come back home with the things Nia requested.
Numerous others emerge from the shadows, flying, slithering, walking, trotting into the bazaar. Or out. You pull your whaleskin coat about you, readjusting the hood to rest lower. It, like yourself, is now incomparable to what it once was. Nia had it sent off to be refitted for you as a gift. You don’t recall all the details, but the crude stitching had been entirely replaced with magithread and the whale skin treated with leviathan oil, granting the coat marvellous properties, not least against the elements. Miraculously, it now also morphed to fit you as though it were originally tailored to you, even though your physique had now ‘regressed’.
Nia was feeling nostalgic for when you first met, you see; her potions had advanced to a point where they could improve ones physicality without necessarily changing their form. Thus she was able to add reagents that rejuvenated your body and shaped it to ones intent.
Still a far way from the qualitative improvement she’d been hoping for, the path has still opened to her for immense variety now that her methods prove reliable more often than not to mix multiple powerful reagents while mitigating or outright avoiding any adverse effects from said mixture. About the only side effect was a moments adjustment to your new centre of balance.
You enter into the bazaar proper and wander about for a bit, against your own will too. It’s not that you didn’t know what you were there to get, it’s just the place was rife with lights and sounds, colours and intricate trinkets. It’s easy to get lost in it all. You’d had more time to adapt, but it was still relatively easy for you to become overwhelmed with information. It was enough to make you yearn for the old world of endless torrent and faint lights.
“R-Rein? Rein, wasn’t it, is that you?” In the midst of it all, someone calling your name has your heart clenching in your chest as you whirl around to assess this violator of anonymity. A figure wheels back slightly, claws up and open. A human gesture that doesn’t mean as much when your hands being empty isn’t so relieving when there’s razor claws at the tips. “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
You didn’t do anything so drastic as put up a stance, but all the sparring with Nia had prepared you to swiftly respond to threats mentally, if not physically. Monstergirls being monstergirls, this one in particular being of a more powerful species, she could probably sense that.
You begin to relax at the semi-familiar face. Roxanne. Your neighbour werewitch. You still struggle to comprehend the concept. Her response to yours – tall black furred ears standing forth and erect – is a little more physical and a lot more involuntary. Doesn’t take more than a moment for them to flop back down though and her long lush tail to begin to wag.
You apologise. “Oh, hey. Sorry, just surprised me a little. I was lost in my own world.”
She nods empathetically, flashing a canine with a lopsided grin, “It’s not hard is it? To get lost. Personally, it’s the smell of all the different foods that gets to me.” Roxanne is a wolfgirl, or she is at the moment. Each dark moon her physical power wanes and her magical potential swells as she transforms into a witch. What that even means or looks like you have no idea, all you know is the world outside the rainy squall is a weird one.
“What are you here for?” You query.
“Oh, not much, I was just feeling a bit cooped up, my research into lunamancy isn’t really getting anywhere at the moment. Decided to take a bit of a walk.” She clenches a fist to you. “I’m hopeful though, I’ve got some theories I wanted to test this solstice. Maybe I can tackle some of my issues, by seeing how the sun this time of year influences the lunar patterns. Approach things from the other angle, you know.” She cocks her head. “You? Don’t really see you out about so often, especially not alone. Then again, we’ve only been neighbours for about two weeks, hahaha.”
You suppress a cringe, unused to such a loud, boisterous and enthusiastic personality. “Ah, Nia’s in the middle of something, so she sent me on some errands. I was just about to get what I need and head back.” That’s right. It was that time of year, wasn’t it? Only two days to go. About now is when families would head out to harbour to fish their own congers for the traditional rain-conger stew. It was also one of the rare few times people would brave the bog enmasse – of course, only the outer edges of it – for the roots, berries and leaves that thrive therein. That was something of a ceremonial tradition in and of itself. A reclamation. Hushed whispers do say that before there was a Keeper’s Peak, before there were Witches, there were people in the bog. It’s a weird sensation, a nostalgia for something you never got. That was for people with homes.
“Ooh, now I’m curious, but, it’s rude to pry into another witch’s research.”
“She’s a dark mage.”
The wolfgirl shrugs and waves a dismissive paw. “Same difference. Well, no offence, but I hope you don’t have a breakthrough too soon – you guys look like fun neighbours.” She grins. “Hate to lose you to the upper spires so soon.”
You smile back weakly. “Thanks, I think.”
“Just messin’ with ya. ‘Course it’s best if your experiments succeed. Any way, gotta run. Good luck! Catch you later!” Almost as sudden as she came, she waves and saunters off. You shake your head softly and return to walking through the bazaar. You don’t know what it is but the notion of having a neighbour sort of grounds you in this world a little, makes you feel a little less lost in the noise. But it also reminds you of where you came from, those bleak alleys and wet stones. The neighbours there were a little different.
You enter into the midst of the bazaar after Roxanne, though her figure has long since disappeared amidst the throngs. There’s a wide variety available to you, from more permanent establishments to quite nice looking stalls, to lone individuals sitting beside a collection laid out upon some ragged cloth. For some unknown reason you find yourself more drawn to the latter, stumbling across a good number of them who call and hawk out before coming to stop before a robed treant sitting quietly, meditating.
She opens a single crimson orb to your approach from under her fringe of fronds and dark green tresses. Arrayed before her are a number of figurines, some of animals in different poses; flight, gallop, roar. Some of monstergirls in different poses; flight, gallop, roar. Masturbation. You think you spy a small flush on her cheeks as she notices your judging gaze.
“Ehm.” She clears her throat, a little uncomfortable to be here you sense, but prepared enough to hawk her wares for an audience it seems. “These are my creations.” She begins in a slow, low voice. It’s quite pleasant to the ears, like wind rustling through leaves laid over the sound of ancient boughs creaking. “These small boons were given to me by only the finest, oldest trees, their blocks full of wisdom and intent. Each tree has her own personality and her own preferences. They are eternal watchers, like I.”
You feel a little bit bored, wondering if all tree girls are to lecturey. It’s not a very good sales pitch, to be honest. Still, you stick it out. “I have spent aeons overseeing different woodlands, searching them for fitting subjects. In carefully carving these fetishes, I have imbued my observations of the certain subject into the wood.”
As she speaks, informing you of her wares, you idly pick one up of a grizzly bear girl, standing proudly as if upon a mountain top, the image of the wind against her wild rags captured perfectly. You tip it to look up at her panties. She isn’t wearing any. You level that gaze of judgement towards the voyeuristic treant again, who flusters through her sales pitch. To be fair, they’re immaculately made, almost real to life, just scaled down and of course, made of wood.
“I p-painted it myself t-through the use of all natural pigments.” Her red orb swims a little as she avoids your gaze. “Each fetish is thus empowered by not only the intentions of nature, but my own artisan observations. Y-you’ll find that that fine piece in your hands right now will bestow upon you some minor fortitude towards the cold winds but also a stoic steadfastness in the face of whatever threatens to sweep you off your feet.
It is no great enchantment, just a passion of mine aided by the generosity of nature. This one here,” She moves to hold up a harpy figurine. Despite being ordinary – if masterful – looking figurines, it is important to note that the harpy hovers above her hand, the galloping ones remaining balanced and upright despite two, three or even all legs being in the air mid-stride. “Would grant you swiftness of mind and keen eyesight. In my carvings I have mostly selected traits that would be best suited to leave the figure on display, rather than carry it about on your person for some benefit.
Their effects will also be best felt if left alone to slowly influence their surroundings. This figure of an arachne, for instance, I highly recommend leaving on your desk or workbench because what I was most fascinated by in observing her and carving her likeness was her persistence and attention to detail. A fine boon to any academic pursuit.” She places the harpy back down and reaches for a scylla.
“This one, on the other hand, would benefit most from a more active role. I carved her from afar, marvelling at the way she blended into her environment and didn’t disturb her quarry until she was already upon it. Leave this upon your vessel and you will sail quietly through the water and fare well with your catch.”
Feeling a little sadistic, perhaps, you point to one of the monstergirl figurines doing something less than wholesome, an alraune laying back against her petals, her fingers… in her petals. “And what’s that one?”
“T-that one was carved to capture the alraune’s yearning, i-it wouldn’t really benefit a boy like you, b-but if you were a… s-single girl, you would find the figure’s yearning would a-assist your s-self-pleasure, y-your nectar would be sweeter and you’d have a more intense climax, imagining your special someone.”
You’d happily sit here all day and make her explain every one, even if some are a bit more obvious, like the figure of the liliraunes going at it. For how dry she started, it’s actually pretty interesting. You’ve things to do and places to be, however, so you ask one last question, pointing to the figure of a trident wielding sahuagin squatting and peering, you could almost imagine into a nearby stream. “And that one?”
Evidently relieved to no longer have to explain her lewder figurines to a boy she perks up a little. “A sahuagin, some of the most masterful innate fisherwomen nature has to offer. This one inspired me quite strongly and so it’s one of my better works. Take it fishing, leave it in the kitchen as you cook, toss it into a pond, this one will improve your luck with all things related to fish.” You struggle to keep an unimpressed face, thought your brows desperately want to rise in interest.
“How much for this one?”
“Five greater crystals.”
Now they really do rise. “Five?! How about three?”
She shakes her head, leaves rustling. “Four at the lowest.”
“Three and a handful of lesser crystals.” She only shakes her head again, so you shrug and walk away.
“Wait!” You turn back, hiding your smirk as she purses her lips in displeasure. “Fine, but you have to recommend my works to someone okay?!”
“Sure thing.” You rifle through your pouch, carefully pluck three of the greater crystals and grab a handful of the lesser. You place them into her hand and take the fishy figurine. “Thank you.”
“Here you go, customer. My name is Lomari Fern-Flower. I come about twice a year, each solstice…” She pauses a while, looking about furtively before beckoning you closer and speaking in low tones. “I-I also have… other figurines for sale that I do not display publicly if you wish to spice up your love life, if you so prefer. T-the coupling of a nymph and her mate demonstrates the blessing of nature’s abundance in a, um… proportionately large and abundant way. Among the boons of the figurines, some will assist in the potency of one’s seed, or the amount of it, or assist with… particularly l-large insertions.”
You blush before you shake your head, the girl going so red her foliage seems to be wilting though the salacious tone she uses certainly lends to the imagery, instilling a certain heat into you. “I’ll uh… discuss it with my wife first.” With that dim excuse, you flee the treant. You’d done a fair deal with Nia but perhaps you weren’t ready for something so depraved. Far easier to go where the flow takes you.
Thankfully – or not, depending – the rest of the shopping is fairly straight forward. Simple transactions. Your trade at each of the shops is fairly standard fair, perhaps helped along by the fact that it wasn’t the first time you’d visited. They are familiar enough with Nia at least not to give you any undue hassle. You even pick up a trinket along the way, a little decorative dark metal hair clip with some clear gemstones inlaid. You are told they’d change colour depending on uh… intimate relations.
You thought it might look nice on Nia and help keep her fringe back while she’s pouring over books and scrolls. Her hair was getting a little bit longer, after all. You don’t know what she’s planning with it but it’s either in that awkward transitional phase between shoulder length and longer, or due a cut.
***
You elbow the handle and shoulder your way into the room gently, balancing on a foot to catch the door with another and pull it back behind you, pivoting to catch it on your foot again as to prevent the noise of it slamming shut from disturbing Nia. It’s all a smooth, coordinated motion to you, perhaps the only reason you felt fit to brave the shadows with armfuls of goods, rather than bothering to bring bags. You don’t know what would happen if you dropped them. Would they fall straight through, plummet down the length of the tree to splash into the murk far far below? In fact, thinking about it now, surely that’s a major safety hazard.
Hers and yours is a decently sized dwelling – certainly comfy, larger than the last threefold – in a section of one of the spires hanging down from the shadowy canopy. Its interior shifts depending upon the will of the owner and Nia has demonstrated a preference towards a more open, spacious plan. Her worskspace lies at the centre of the room in a ring, tables, desks, cauldron, workbenches surrounding with only modest gaps between to slip through. The desk faces outward towards the balcony where one was afforded a lovely view over the town below beyond the sitting area, which itself is dropped by about half a metre via a small few steps.
Off to the left of the balcony along the outer ring of the room is a lounging area by a large fireplace oozing warmth even now via the magic crystals smouldering away. On the opposite side of the room is the bedroom and across from it the bathroom. Between is a kitchen, split down the middle by the front door. It is certainly unorthodox, but… kind of grand feeling at the same time. It almost feels the more intimate for how open it is, in that you can pretty much see each other at all times, regardless of where in the room you are.
Nia sits at the desk, her back to you – or it was, before she twisted around to flash you a smile and a “Welcome home.” She’s dressed casually in some comfy black negligee. Genuine material this time, the magisynth orb floating listlessly nearby. You identify the sheer fabric for being drider’s silk. You’re intimately acquainted with how delightfully soft it feels and how robustly giving it is and it’s certainly permeable enough. Especially when soaked through; it seems to only grow stronger and stretchier. It doesn’t stain either.
“Thanks.” You grin, only growing more enthralled the more you see this studious side of her. Her posture is impeccable, but the nature of what she’s doing invites a slight lean or slant forwards, the long, split fringe that usually frames her face hanging forwards, semi-shrouding her side profile. You don’t know why you find that so attractive and you don’t know why you also find it so attractive when she invariably lifts a finger mid-contemplation to tuck it behind her ear. Chalk it up to innocent infatuation.
That reminds you of your gift. Now you don’t know if you’d rather give it to her, or not. You suppose she’d be beautiful and cute either way.
“They didn’t give you too much trouble this time?” She shoots a question as she returns to her research.
“No,” You give a soft chuckle. “I don’t think they wanted another taste of your wrath.”
“Hmph, it’s your own fault for being so damn cute. Maybe you shouldn’t always walk around like you’re asking for it.”
“I don’t consider a tattered old coat and some nondescript black clothes under it ‘asking for it.’ Besides, you’re the one who got it fixed up and neat looking.”
You can practically hear the soft fleshy churn as her eyes roll. “A tattered, faded cloak might have suited you fine, but you’re not tattered and faded anymore. Besides, that isn’t what I was talking about and you know it.” She turns back around momentarily to give you a scowly pout. “It’s the way you walk around in your own little world looking lost. Learn from the other men already. They stride with their heads up and their chests bare, that eternally five-minutes-late expression on their face. People don’t bother a man with a mission.”
You grimace, a little redfaced at being called out. It’s the epitome of shame for a Lander to get caught unawares and though the situation is a little different – no one can get within ten feet of you without you being instantly aware (except for that one time) – it’s still somewhat rankling to not notice eyes on you just because they’re a little further away than that. “You know I’m trying to break those old habits. Besides, that’s bullshit and you know it, Nia. You girls get off on a man of purpose like you do any other kind of man, don’t even try it. I’ve seen it first hand three times this week and we’re only two days in.” You scoff with disdain, causing her shoulders to jolt a little, followed by a barely audible mutter.
“That’s what boys get for being so cute all the time.”
You roll your own eyes as you place the reagents down where she needs them. “Saw Roxanne by the way.”
“Oh? How’s she going?”
You walk up behind her and fish the clip out of your pocket. “Fine… energetic as usual I think.”
“Haha, Rein got accosted~ She got the jump on you, didn’t she?” Papers rustle as she continues on with her research in-between teasing jibes. If there’s one thing you admire about Nia – there are many, many many – it’s her ability to multitask.
“Did not… she was easily over ten feet away.”
“Uh-huh. What’s this?” She gets the better part of her dismissive grunt off before you rest your hand on her head, holding her hair in place until you can slide the clip through the silky soft strands, fastening the one side of her fringe behind her ear. You finish it off with a light peck to the cheek. “Just something I saw while I was out. Sorry, I don’t have anything better or more meaningful this year.”
She sits still throughout until you’re done, but as you pull away she returns to kiss onto your lips. “It’s fine, I already have everything I could ever want.” She summons a mirror to herself and turns her head this way and that. “Oooh~ How pretty.”
“Supposedly it’ll be even prettier after we uh…” You clear your throat. “A few times.” The lavender eyes in the mirror turn to you with derision. “I know exactly what the gems do, perv.”
You ignore her look. “Well, as long as you enjoy it, I suppose.”
“I love it.” She grins, shaking her head a little and demonstrating its masterful ability to keep the hair that’s inside of it clipped into place. A complex contraption, but an effective one. As for your conflict, all it really serves to do is highlight the other half of her fringe still resting along the side of her face, so it’s a bit of a win-win. Nia returns to her studies.
Pleased with yourself and your purchase of happenstance, you head over to boil some water by the fireplace, the crystal coals always exuding a pleasant warmth. The water begins to boil in no time and you throw in a blend of herbs you’ve grown partial to. Good for concentration.
“Hey.”
“Mm?”
“Is it actually real? The whole… werewitch thing?”
“I mean, It’s a little unusual, but I suspect so, yeah. There are stranger things than that out there, could be any number of reasons she’s like that.”
You murmur as you stare into the flaming crystals, pondering. You were beginning to learn that. Her books were fascinating and the sensation of reading magic was sublime, but… painful. It’s a… discomforting… distressing? Thing, to have the scales pulled from one’s eyes. Realising your own world view’s ignorance, it’s… traumatic. You can’t help but wonder if some of your growing desire to go back is to hide from it all, all the confrontation. Return to a simpler life, where you had everything worked out. You knew when and where to steal. You knew how to hide. It’s all you’d ever known, but by the gods you’d known it.
You slap your cheeks softly and look over to Nia, the only comfort in this new world. She lifts her head and smiles back at you, those dusky lips curling in a way that has the edges of your heart melt. You feel your own lips begin to twist unbidden and you rise from the fireplace, brew in hand and return to the couch where the annotated book you were reading lies, before she sent you off on the errand. You hope to finish this section before the next.
* * *
You got a good deal further, Nia evidently absorbed in her studies, you in your own. The midday slipped right through the afternoon until coming to a bit of a rest at late evening. Give it another hour or two and it’ll be time for the two of you to start preparing dinner. Your mind begins to wander from the rather dry material of sigillography. It’s a part of the regimen that Nia’s put you on, given that she wants to start dungeon-diving with you soonish and knowing your sigils will help prevent you from opening any joke-scrolls that eccentric virgin wizards left behind for the sole purpose of messing with people. Apparently it was distressingly common.
“I’m booorrrreeed~!”
You jolt a little at the sudden, loud declaration. Looking over at Nia, you see her push her chair to the side and stretch like a cat, moaning salaciously all the while. And much like a cat, she soon slides off the chair like liquid. Your heart hitches a little as you catch the smoky look in her eyes as she stares you down through the hanging bangs of her midnight hair. You take a deep breath, a fire in your lungs as you watch, captivated as her large breasts hang pendulously, giving the illusion that they’re just barely held up by her negligee, though personal experience tells you they’re more than perky enough. She crawls low, her wide hips and ample ass swaying above behind her, to the extent you could almost see the phantom image of a sleek black tail listing through in the air.
Step, sway, step, sway; her soft feminine flesh jiggles each time her knee thumps down upon the floor, hips making so drastic a shift as to make you fear her falling over but with a purely feminine grace she maintains her stride. A low pur bubbles up into a molten, needy moan. “Reeeiinn~” She sits down between your legs, hands already roaming about your thighs. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re bored. Also, it’s nearly time to start dinner.”
“Big sis is needy~” She whines as her delicate fingers start to work at your trousers, her plump blackened lips pursing cutely.
“You’re -” Right, she’s right, she’s needy. You reach out and stroke her hair as she demonstrates unerring control over your own clothing, the material parting to free your heavy sack and half-hard mast upon her command. “- working too hard.”
She stiffens a little bit, before leering lewdly at you and wrapping her fingers about the base of your cock, leaning forwards to kiss and nuzzle at your balls while the thick shaft smacks across her face. “Maybe big sis just finds your precious lewd expressions more interesting? Maybe~” She traces circles atop your length. “I can’t breathe or focus or even think without your love. Have you been looking too much at all the other girls, lately, with their wings and tails and horns and ears?” Her lavender eyes glow with smouldering intent. “Did you forget what I am? How I need you?”
You know far more now, intuit far easier than you once did. Nia begins to unabashedly emit, nay, blast the aura of a monstergirl, through and through, her true nature irrespective of her human looks. To be quite frank, though the other witches of the coven had nothing to do with it, you had forgotten a little, the monstrous nature of your wife.
You chuckle, a hidden tinge of nervousness in there. You know this song and dance by now. She doesn’t make as much progress as she wants to, so she blows steam off by being needy and whiny and demanding affection. She releases her inhibitions until she’s satisfied. If you call her on it, however, she gets aggressive. Sexually. And lets her frustrations out on you. Sexually. You hadn’t anticipated her to go this far though, must be a decent bit of a stumbling block. In all actuality, a belly full of cum might actually give her the kick of inspiration she needs.
A sudden bite brings your attention back to her fully, some miffed annoyance in her dusk-rimmed eyes. Thankfully it was only a nip and she instantly licks the indents as she grinds her face against your cock and strokes your length with one hand while cradling and massaging your now spit-soaked balls with the other. A glimmer of subterfuge shines in her eyes. “Besides, we might as well get a start on…improving this gift of yours.” You stare down at her, lavishing her desire all over your length. Your heart swells and your loins boil. You go to place the book aside but her fingers curl about your balls and give them a light squeeze, just enough to be notably uncomfortable.
“Ah ah ah~” She puts on her most stern, lectur-y expression, quite the feat with your stiff, throbbing cock resting across her face, spurting pre down its length and her nose as it tenses in response to being held hostage. “You expect to be of any help to me like this? I didn’t tell you to stop studying.” You roll your eyes and pick the book up again. The things you do to go along with her strange desires.
Since she wants it that way, you become determined to ignore her ministrations as best you can, moving with minimal cooperation, like lifting your hips as she pulls your pants down. Sure she could have just melted them off you, but it’s the little things that spice the mood.
You get the sinking feeling you’ve invoked a kind of competitiveness within her. Peeking over the page you see a distinct petulance in her demeanour. The midnight silk crown of her head emanating a certain irkedness. You do your best to put it out of your mind as her soft fingertips roam about your thighs stroking patterns. Near and far they roam, heightening and lowering the tension. That much you’re able to deal with and you do an admirable job of it.
What catches you a little off guard is the soft, warm breath that joins in, wafting over your tingling skin like spring’s breeze. Like a front of charged intent it rolls over where her fingers aren’t, the lingering ghost of intimacy boosting the peaks and diminishing the troughs. It’s not an overwhelming pleasure that has you distracted and skipping words as you read through the dry material of niche fraternal sigils, it’s the anticipatory lack thereof that has you waiting and wanting.
You only get some relief and fulfilment when you feel that intangible, close but so infinitely far distance close, her lips pressing to your skin in a wet kiss that sends a jolt of pleasure along your nerves, your neglected cock throbbing against her soft cheek. You’d relish in the contact if it weren’t so empty.
Your lips twitch a little, tip of your tongue running around your gums as you harden your expression into the book as her full, wet lips kiss ever upward, sometimes rising up your inner thigh in a line, sometimes retreating, or alternating to your other leg entirely. She gets close, so agonisingly close to the base of your cock that she’s nearly nosing it, her hot breath the only deliberate contact you’ve yet had. Nia falls back again to the other side. Her dance continues, but in repetitive patterns your distracted mind pays all too much attention to. It comes to a point in the choreography where she can’t retreat, she can’t swap sides. You unknowingly stop reading, waiting with stolen breath for the moment her lips surely grace the tip or the side of your manhood.
Her long tongue lashes about the bottom of your sack, hefting your balls, one falling to each side her tongue as it slithers forth, coils around and massages them with tight wet tension. Your cock pulses and throbs to your chagrin as her tongue works over your sack, lavishing it with near slavish devotion, only parted from absolute submission by the consuming possessive need with which she communes. Alas, each twitch, each stiffening she elicits draws your member to taller heights, lonesome heights, beads of pre rolling down the slit of your proud, swollen tip to dry sticky to your abandoned length.
Frustration bubbles at your throat, the motions ceasing a moment as you clear it softly, but continuing soon after, heedless of your discomfort. You experience momentary regret. Two can play at this game, but maybe you oughtn’t have chosen the passive position.
Her tongue continues to coil around, sometimes so tight it’s almost painful, other times sliding back and forth from clockwise to counter. Her tip circles your captured nuts in slow languorous motions, Nia relishing as she feels your loins clench and pulse with an aching need. Her dusky lips wrap around a ball, sucking and kissing as her tongue flickers, lewd wet noises issuing up and further disrupting your concentration. You gloss over the page only belatedly realising you’d not paid attention to any of it.
Your eyelids flutter, you crumple the book in your hands as you unthinkingly let out a low groan and shift your hips forwards, mashing your sack into her mouth in search of just any additional stimulation. You know you lost as soon as her plump lips curl into a smile and the vibrations of her low, victorious chuckle reverberate through your loins, stirring the already seething fires.
All you receive from your loss, however, your inability to ignore the vixen’s ministrations, is her soft hand wrapping about just above the base of your cock. Nia’s hand is almost as good as her mouth, but to be perfectly honest, you were hoping for the latter. This, you think to yourself, you can surely handle. She isn’t even doing anything, just gripping your mast, just barely tight enough to feel it throb in her grip.
And that was all. You grit your teeth as the minutes drag on, page after page of boring text about shit you don’t even care about, why is she just sitting there doing nothing? The most you can eek out of it, are the tiny micro adjustments her hand makes as you continuously throb in her firm grip, just a little too shy of tight. By now your precum dribbles down over her hand in small rivulets. You don’t know if you’re just easy, or if it has anything to do with the nature of your relationship with her, but you can scarce go soft inside her and that’s after a marathon of fucking, draining your balls into her womb until there’s nothing left. Just held like this, teetering on agitation, you only get harder and harder, her grip enough for blood and need to flow in, but not out.
Again, you fail to notice, your teeth grinding and groaning in protest as you clench your jaw, the lines on the page going totally unfocused. Growing unfathomably desperate to just have her do something, your hips betray you again, thrusting into her hand, the droplets of pleasure like divine ichor in the drought of sensation. Your cock pulses powerfully, pumping out a thick syrupy rope of precum, the pleasure such that at first you thought you might have come.
Nia laughs openly at what almost looks to be a sad, failed climax. “I think big sis knows which part of you she prefers, my dear Rein. At least, when you’re being this way. Your hips are a lot more honest. Do you want to call it off? I can just keep my hand here and let you fuck it, you can thrust your little hips against my hand until you spurt all over my face and chest, would you like that?”
You groan so low as to be a growl. You hate that part of you would like that, yes. Still, your rock, no, iron, no diamond hard cock proves you’ve got some unbreakable mettle in you somewhere, even if it is between your legs. You ignore the dark vixen’s jibes and go back to reading, as much as you can, having completely lost your place, realising now you’re a dozen pages in of automatic turning and glassy-eyed reading.
She knows you too well to expect you to admit defeat here and now, she needs to turn the screws far harder before you’ll come before her whimpering and begging. And you will. Not. You definitely will not. This time. For sure.
She loves nothing more than pushing you to that point when she’s in the mood too, so it comes as a shock when she apparently relents, her lips finally descending upon the tip of your cock, her tongue sliding about the glans and collecting all the precum. She gives off a rapturously lewd moan as she tastes your desire. You’re torn between relief and apprehension. You know she doesn’t let go of her game until it’s played itself out fully. Has she given up? Surely it can’t be. She licks her lips, smearing their soft plushy surface with a mixture of saliva and your own natural excitement before she places a kiss on the very tip of your cock, her lips spreading in a circle from your glans as she takes the entirety of your swollen head into her hot, sweltering spit-stringed sodden mouth.
You change your grip on the book, resting it upon the arm of the lounge and turning pages with one hand while the other rests on your hip, balled and white knuckled as you desperately try to hold yourself in place, quivering with pent up pleasure as she keeps sucking at your crown and ringing circles with her tongue, each lewd wet slurp and smack ringing through your head like a clarion.
You get some small reprieve from the tension building monotony as her tongue slips out, grinding across your slit as it slithers down your length dexterously to coil down it and stroke you off slowly and lazily before drawing back up your manhood, but overall the constant attention on your tip has you nearing climax. Your eyes flutter closed as you draw to that precipice, only for the sensation to all stop. Her tongue lay limp within her mouth, her cheeks no longer hollowing out as she suckles at the tip. She just holds it in her mouth, her lips curling as she greedily drinks in your expression of dawning horror.
She just as equally takes glee in your expression of firm determination. You’ll not let her get the best of you, not this time. You muster all your ability and focus, reading fiercely. Word by word. Letter by letter, if you have to. You focus on the spaces between the letters, anything you possibly can to ignore the once again rising tide. It doesn’t abate as much as it simply flows backwards. It’s a wave that never hits the breaker, or it’s a wave trapped into a nightmare, where no matter how much it swells with power and potency, by the time it rushes itself thin, the shore is no closer. No farther. No closer.
Around and around her tongue maddeningly orbits, drawing the tide of your lust along with her lavishing licks until the dark moon of silence and then a new phase. You give up on reading. You give up on the game entirely, having lost once again. You only have so much strength to clench. You can only focus so much on a swimming vision of blurry figures when all you want to do is look down at Nia and stare at her cruel worship. Some men strive for power. For glory. To transcend beyond and become gods. You pity them, the poor souls, if there’s even the slightest minuscule chance of them landing a head priestess like this.
You moan, almost a whimper. “Nia. Please.”
The grace of a goddess suffuses her eyes as she looks into yours, the book between you long since fallen off the edge of the lounge. Her lips descend upon the base of your manhood in deluvial bliss. Your hands reach out to her, caressing the side of her face, running your fingers through her hair around the back of her head. You don’t grip or force her head down, caressing and stroking it gently as the achingly hard length of your cock slides down her tight wet throat.
But your calves tense powerfully, your thighs like iron as her cute upturned nose presses up against your crotch and squishes further as you fuck her face, taking leverage to thrust against her lips, rapidly in bliss, catching up to the last wave and every wave of climax that came before it in one rapid desperate burst. She moans and splutters giggles and squeals as she rides out your raging lust, massaging your quaking balls with her graceful fingers, staring down a force of nature and goading it to go even further beyond.
Spit and precum quickly splatters her cheeks and chin damp, along with your own thighs. Her tongue lashes limply, half coiled over your length as you thrust through her lips, down the writhing wet passage of her tongue and deep into her tight squirming, almost spasming throat. You don’t even stop thrusting as your balls clench powerfully one last time and your loins lurch, pumping all the pent up frustration and seed deep into her stomach.
You almost barely register it but for a divine sensation of relief and fulfilment. Reduced to the level of a base being, you breed Nia’s mouth with utmost sincerity, trying to make that winsome witch’s word-hole pregnant with your offspring. She’d scoff at you were she not wrapping her arms around your waist and clinging tight, preoccupied with the high of your incredibly backed up, potent spiritual energy crashing through her system. ‘You can’t make my mouth pregnant.’ You’re trying anyway.
Thick ropes of cum spurt out her nose and spill out her mouth, your heavy balls clenching in pulses against her sopping chin as her capacity is all that stands between you and draining your entire load down her stomach. It runs in rivers down the valley of her pale bosom to splat lewdly on the floor. In supreme rapture your strength fails you finally, collapsing back into the lounge as your manhood pumps the last of its flagging load past her lips.
You lose one final time, this time to her rapacious, insatiable gluttony. Even as you collapse back she remains fastened to the base of your cock, greedily stimulating the last dregs of your climax with her milking throat and coaxing tongue. Indeed you can never forget. There exists in whispers and the dreams of those ready to turn their backs on the mundane world a dimension of eternal, infinite pleasure. Where men undergo an almost religious baptism, a complete reformation to render them fit to an eternity of love. For monstergirls, the paperwork is a formality. Theirs is a perpetual fucking machine of fundamental force. To be submerged in an infinite deluge of pleasure and bliss is a return to form.
Basically, Nia’s so cum-driven for your seed she’d happily drown in it forever if she could. The moment’s post-climax clarity has your heart awash with awe, that she manages to have dreams and aspirations outside of it, to do anything else. To rise above and at least cook you dinner first.
You feel something, a spark of magic, some design to the swirling of her tongue beyond lapping up as much cum as monstrously possible. Slowly she withdraws, dark lips drawing up your achingly over-sensitive length, leaving a dark ring at your base which you first believe to be lipstick, but then realise as it pulses and glows with arcane runes to be something else.
Rising off your reddened head with a wet pop she rocks back on her heels, letting your cock flop between her cushy breasts as she preens herself, crusading against each smudge and drop. And just like a cat, once she’s satisfied she settles her head down against your belly with a purr, lounging in the feel of you going soft trapped in her bosom, although not doing a very thorough job of it.
You pant for a moment, relishing in the feeling of the wind blowing in through the balcony, cooling your perspiration. That said, with such a damn sexy woman laying in your lap, you’re not sure cooling off is possible. You idly pat her head, fingers combing through her hair in slow and gentle strokes. “Hey,” You stop to clear your throat, your voice dry and rusty. “w-what was that, at the end?”
Almost sad to see it go, Nia smiles smugly as she fixes your trousers up and climbs up your body to sit in your lap, making the sensitive fellow twitch with a resurgent arousal. She rests her cheek on your head and runs a finger about your chest. “A marker of sorts. Just something to broadcast out there that you’re mine. Nothing too obnoxious or notable, but at the very least it should keep their wandering eyes away. They’ll probably make fun of me for marking my territory like this, but…” She shrugs. “if it’ll save you some bother, it’s worth it to big sis.”
“So that’s what you’ve been researching. A-aah!” You cry out, wincing in pain and looking up as Nia pouts, twisting your ear for your teasing and perhaps deservedly so.
“Of course not, that was just a little side thing that I came across. Besides, what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing.” You grin, “Nothing at all.” She gives off a startled gasp that turns to a giggle as you leverage your strength to push her over, taking her down to lay across the couch, her legs wrapping about your hips on instinct. You squirm about ontop of her until you’re laying comfortable on your side, your head resting upon her bosom. “I guess every one knows I belong to big sis now, huh?”
“Y-yep” She stammers, a little bashful. You smirk.
“Like they didn’t already.” You scoff before pausing, saying with a smile. “I can live with that.” She lifts a hand, considering another assault for your impertinence, but it gently settles upon your head instead, stroking softly through your hair.
“You’ll have to, I’m afraid. I’m so fallen for you that I’d lock you away if I had to, just to keep you mine.”
“And yet she wants to do traipsing about old ruins and tombs.”
“This and that are different!” You laugh softly as you squeeze an arm under and around her, the other idly toying with her barely-clothed breast.
“Sure it is.” Your eyes begin to lose focus and you’re sure if you could purr you would be. The overwhelming softness of her body, the perfect hones firmness under curves that would make a succubus jealous. The soothing feeling of her slender fingers along your scalp, the relaxing breeze and the gently flickering, warm fireplace in hazy view just beyond a veiled pale mound. This is the life.
You spend several long, peaceful moments in silence as the night begins to set in. “Hey.” Her chest vibrates or purrs pleasantly as she speaks. “I’ve been thinking. You’re not adapting as well or fast as I’d like to your environment.”
“Mmmm,” You murmur, softly kneading her breast. “Sorry…”
“Ah! N-no, don’t apologise. It’s not your fault. How do you feel about going back and visiting for a day or two? You can get in touch with it all again, get a bit of a break from all this and relax in a familiar environment.”
You look up at her, craning your neck to rest your chin on her bosom. “Isn’t that kind of counter productive?”
Her amethyst eyes glimmer with warmth as she looks down at you. You grow a little bit more alert as you notice her fighting with an intense desire. She shakes her head softly, “I love you.”
“I know.”
“A lot.”
“Yeah. Me too.” You relax, laying your cheek against her breast again, happy to vanish into the raging inferno of her love.
She goes silent a moment, only the sound of her fingers rustling along your scalp filling the air between the two of you before she begins again. “No, I don’t think it will be. It will help give you some perspective, having been away from it for a while, having lived without it. It will help.”
“Sure.” You murmur, wrapping your arms tighter around her and zoning out to the sound of her heartbeat. “But, later.”
* * * *
The two of you traipse through the bog hand in hand. The lack of blind panic means you’re able to choose your footing more carefully, so no splashy ruckus this time. There’s a marked difference traversing this area single, frantic, attracting nearly all the attention you possible could; and calm, taken and accompanied. The rain sounds deafeningly heavy, platting and plopping in heavy droplets through the fog onto gnarled old grey wood, or withered black foliage, the odd few falling through the surprisingly dense cover to ripple out across the gloom waters. The rain in Squall’s Landing is constant, more or less. It may be heavier on some days, maybe not but over all there’s very little variation. That it’s deafening to you, even under the shelter of the Bog – never thought you’d consider the Bog ‘shelter’ – speaks less to the intensity of the downfall and more to how long you’d spent away from it.
Some things remind you of that terrible experience, the groan of old, wet-gorged wood. The drone of insects and the distant roars of some immense, unknowable fiend drifting through the fetid air. The only thing preventing you from slipping into the past is Nia’s hand in yours, squeezing you softly. She chuckles, “Big sis is here with you, dear. Just like before.”
Your heart rate calms somewhat, though you still furtively glance the boughs, dangling ears turning to your passing as nailed eyes stare at you unblinkingly. You suppress a shudder and try to hide just a little deeper into the cowl of your coat.
“Who would chose to live here? Maybe you don’t notice so much if you just stay in the coven but the moment you leave, you’re confronted by all… this.” Your voice comes out in a whisper, your only strength the utter indifference Nia shows.
She looks to you from under her own hood, the both of you more or less weather-prepared to venture into the Landing. “A lot of it’s theatrics. The eyes and ears? Old outcasts, older than the coven itself. I hesitate to call them witches. They’re something more primordial than that.”
“They aren’t real?” You jolt a little, looking about, squeaming as you lock eyes with one of the ‘theatrics’.
“Oh they’re very real. They’re just theatrical is all. They serve a purpose, to monitor each inch of the bog, but by and large they’re just there to spook you and mark their territory. As for why live here? This place has been soaked in magic for aeons. This bog’s very foundations are enchanted, made of mana-enriched soil washed away by the rain, slowly eroding the peak to nothing but rock. This bog has immense value, for the things living and growing in it, but also for itself. When the two sister Risi first established the coven, they drew upon the very nature of the Bog itself; the two are intrinsically tied, they nourish each other. In short there’s every reason to live here.”
Logically you know that, all the more aware given your recent education. Still. “…Well I think it sucks.”
She chuckles, “That’s what it was going to do to you before big sis came along.”
The bog looks almost uniform all around, making it exceedingly easy to get lost in but as you continue to walk, it goes beyond looking familiar to looking eerily familiar, almost overlapping with your memories from that experience. You keep your suspicions to yourself for the time being as you walk beside Nia who walks with a sense of purpose, but you’re unable to deny it as the distance clears somewhat and a swarming kind of movement begins to appear behind the treeline.
As you get closer, you recognise the Everbank first and finally her workers, men shovelling the endless peat, the smell of the distillery rising before its construction breaks the treeline. Dark smoke belches into the air and though it’s ostensibly day time, countless lanterns litter the Everbank, the low groaning creak of laden carts audible from here as they send hefty blocks of peat back up the way.
The two of you go unnoticed at first as you advance through the bog, neither of you dressed to stand out. As you get closer however, the ever vigilant working men – already replete with ghost stories and anecdotes of missing friends and strange creatures – quickly take notice. Your approaching figures create a disturbance that ripples amongst their ranks as work halts to stare at you. Seeing some one walk into the bog wasn’t a rare occurrence, uncommon perhaps at best. Let your mind wander and the bog air will get to you, strange sounds and stranger winds yet could sigh out from the deep bog, suggestive and alluring, the constant drip of moisture on damp, sodden soil could grow evocative and fanciful to a pent up worker. It wasn’t rare for such a man to just abandon his tools and venture off.
Seeing someone, anyone, any thing actually venture out of it, now… that was unheard of. Nia’s impossibly alluring figure and dark aesthetic is heavily shrouded in a weathered cloak, probably most the reason the men aren’t currently rushing the evident ‘bog-witch’ with their shovels and torches. But at the same time, fear of the unknown no doubt plays a major part in their paralysis as well.
The two of you keep silent and walk at the same pace as you were, gradually passing the Everbank by and embarking down the rotton old, half-sunk road towards Squall’s Landing. None come up to you and none call out, but the disturbance you left can be heard even over the rain, the whole congregation of them unsure if they hadn’t just experienced some kind of group hallucination.
You come across a scant few others along the road as the bog gradually thins around you, but they pay you no heed, travellers along this road a daily occurrence. You grow even more inconspicuous as you join the main road that runs along the coast, leading directly to that oh so familiar bastion, with the towering light-house-keep in the distance, shedding its ever-watchful glare over the turbulent ocean, the sole reprieve of sailors mad enough to brave the squall.
You falter for a moment. Standing nearly alone in the soothing rain, though Nia remains keen enough to your state of mind to stop beside you. The walls you bade goodbye to, before your final passing into the bog… Large rustic slabs of stone. The colossal grate and pipe, akin to a gateway and portcullis in scale, rushing a river-torrent of all the rain that falls endlessly upon the cobbled streets of the Landing. In a way, the you that last looked back on these walls was dead. In other ways he still lingered.
You shake your head softly and shoot an appreciative smile at Nia, who waited for you patiently. “Let’s go.”
“Ready when you are.” The two of you head off towards the town, passing by below the covered braziers, that familiar scent of burning peat tickling at the back of your mind as the rain abates under shelter of the gates. You pass by nearly unnoticed, but certainly uncared for. The gates had a guard but they preferred to stay inside for the most part. Security was lax as the town itself was a kind of defence. The casual tourist had one option and that was the main street, which even then wasn’t always safe. The streets branching off the main were more treacherous than whatever risk wandering ruffians posed and Keeper’s Peak was walled off and heavily guarded to the point where they almost welcomed the challenge.
Today however, the streets were somewhat safer than usual, small festive lanterns hanging from near every surface you can hang them from, one of the rare few times fish or whale oil was used to burn instead of the far cheaper peat. They twinkle like little stars in the pouring rain, the closest the Landing ever got. It is a spectacle to be sure and you can’t stop yourself from sighing wistfully.
Nia looks about herself, noting the differences from the dismal light you usually paint the place in. “I take it this isn’t the norm?”
“No, people only hang these out around solstice at the end of the year. Usually the streets have far less visibility.” As it is just tipping away from morning and towards midday, a great number of people mill about the rain, a greater number of people than usual. They wandered about, preparing for their celebrations. It’s almost enough to completely flip the usual perception of the city as being almost eerily empty bar the distant shapes coming out of the rain. Of course the eternal rain did much to keep the original feel of the city intact, but it was indisputably dolled up.
The two of you weave about many a body as they go making last minute preparations and purchases before turning in to spend the eve with their families. That’s the best thing about being a Lander that you never got. They’re all fiercely family oriented. Practically all the gangs were filial in nature. The Big Sis of the red light district was an exception that rather proved the rule, a family by adoption perhaps.
Nia looks around at all the lights, wondering half to herself. “Why do you do it? Is it just for decoration?”
“They’re small lighthouses. They’re to guide family home and also, there’s a bit of a folk legend that it’s the lighthouse that keeps the witches from the bog at bay. It’s a talisman of protection in as much as it is a guide home.” She scoffs and you shrug mildly. “I know.”
“I will say though, I don’t know what it is but that’s no ordinary lighthouse.”
“Yeah, it’s a castle.” You earn a kick to the shin.
“I meant the light itself.”
You shrug in pure ignorance. You’ve no idea what produces it or how. The vast majority of Landers don’t. That’s for the king and his family to know. It’s shrouded in so much mystery and secrecy in fact, that in hushed tones especially amongst sailors, it’s treated almost religiously. Being a vagrant, you know well to stay away from certain coves and stretches of wharf on certain nights. Secrets gather there, intransient and intangible as the rain, older to boot. You’ve no interest in uncovering them.
In the same way they’d leave numerous small lanterns out to ward off the witches and beasts of the bog and guide their loved ones home – sometimes even if just in spirit – they’d also leave small tributes out in the rain, one of the rare few times the people here would associate with the less than mundane nature of the Landing and her rain. You don’t know how that tradition came to be, but you do know to steer clear of the offerings one might catch a blue watery sprite pecking at. All who transgress appear to be struck by the worst of misfortunes. Thinking about it critically and engaging some of what you’d learnt at the coven, it seems likely it’s a form of ritual thanks; as if the spirits conferred protection and a surety of foot to those who appeased them.
Then again, perhaps it was all superstition. Live here long enough you’re gonna take a bad slip some day. Who’s to say pilfering offerings a week or month earlier had anything to do with it? What you do know, is the countless small lamps strung along the street, over the street between buildings and along the eaves give the whole place an ethereal sort of presence. You used to spend hours out in the rain just looking at them, walking up and down the street. It was a rare time of year where the cruel and surly either curtailed their tendencies or mostly kept among their own, making the streets almost safe for once.
Countless individuals drifted from shelter to shelter, bobbing umbrellas of different skins, fish, seal, intestines, died and decorated patterns. Numerous figures also ducked beneath the floating canopy as they went about in humble coats of similar material, those lesser off and closer to your own station, as it was.
Be it bone or ever luxurious wood harvested from the bog, the intricate framing and the masterful design of the contraption would always make the umbrella something of a status symbol amongst the Landers. Not to mention the different ways you can pattern and demarcate it as some form of family heirloom. The blocky things were more visible in the rain than the average silhouette, partially for the lack of it underneath the shelter of the frame. This made it something of a warding proclamation as well, especially if the thing itself bore no aggravating motifs of rival gangs. ‘I am just an average citizen, I have a home and a profession. I’ll have nothing of your alleys and shadows.’ Of course, that didn’t permit witlessness.
Speaking of, you cast a glance now and then to the shrouded side-roads, startled to feel a strange, unsettling sense of unease as you look into the alleys you once called home. They feel foreign to you. The figures therein, frightening. Well, lets be honest, they were frightening back then and markedly less so now given your newfound abilities, but it’s the sentiment that counts. These byways aren’t home anymore.
You don’t know how to feel about that. Being amidst the rain again is refreshing. You’re in your element. At the same time, however, you understand intuitively that you don’t belong here anymore. You don’t explicitly belong anywhere else, perhaps except for by Nia’s side, but you don’t belong here anymore. At least, not on these streets. It’s a perplexing kind of emotion. One of bittersweet loss.
Nia reaches out to you, cold wet glove on your chin as she turns your head and plants her warm soft lips upon your own. You don’t know if you looked forlorn and in need of some cheering up, but it comes as a welcome interruption. The two of you are masked enough by the rain to queerly enjoy a bit of intimacy and privacy on this open street, just two shapes stopped for a time. It’s a sadly short, surprisingly chaste thing. That tongue wasn’t natural and she loves to use it. It makes the brief smooch on the lips all the more impacting, your spirits already lifting.
“You’re with me. Wherever we’re together, you belong, okay?” Her words strike to your core, fluffy and warm. A heat rises in your cheeks.
“Yeah. I gue-, no, you’re right.” You change the subject to a more promising one as you turn away. “I had an idea just now, about a magic I could try. You know we’d been looking for something to compliment my natural inclinations. It seems really obvious in hind sight, but why not some kind of area magic. What if I could call down a domain of rain, just like this one?”
Her eyes glimmer with pride. “Good thinking. Of course. Back when we used to spar in our dreams that was something you always used to use to your advantage. I feel stupid for not thinking of it first. I already have some ideas, I know a girl that lives in Blackwater, she should have some books we could look into.”
You grin and shake your head, the two of you resuming your walk up the road. “You’re not stupid. I think we both just had bigger things on our mind then.”
She squeezes your hand playfully. “I’ve got your bigger thing on my mind already. How about we get out of this rain?”
You smirk, “I hear it’s amazing if you’re willing to be put to bed with the sniffles for a few days.”
Her violet eyes glimmer with excitement at the notion, but she quickly cools down. “I’ll find us a spot later, I don’t really fancy doing it in an alley. For now, I hope you’ve had your fill of this dismal downpour, because I want to warm up somewhere nice and dry.”
You nod understandingly. A woman… being of her calibre is hardly going to be effected by the rain, magic or no, but it’s still probably a bit unpleasant for travellers who weren’t raised in this environment. You wrack your brain to think of a hangout fit for her, when she tugs your hand further up the street towards Keeper’s Peak where the shops grow nicer and nicer the further she tugs you along.
“W-wait, that’s-!”
“Come on, my treat.” She interrupts you, but the thought is still on your lips. That’s an area that’s for somebodies, not nobodies like you. Each half stumbled step chased after her feels… terrifying and liberating at once, but you can’t help but search the streets frantically for guardsmen, fearing being discovered for the impostor that you are. Were?
Yet she tugs you along. It’s almost like some kind of final barrier is being broken, some final remnant of your old self falling by the wayside. Some quiet part of you can’t help but wonder if it isn’t deliberate, if she isn’t stating to and for you that you don’t need those alleys anymore. Where the old you couldn’t go, is neither here nor there. You stumble after her almost mindlessly, her hand in yours your only tether.
Eventually she brings you to the warmly glowing storefront of a little bakery just a short ways from the wall that separates Keeper’s Peak from the rest of Squall’s Landing, where you need not just money but peerage to browse. Some ungodly delicious smell seeps out through the cracks in the door, mingling with the scent of rain.
Its front face was made predominately of glass, a luxury to be sure. The large windows weren’t especially transparent, but then with the rain constantly falling upon it, visibility was less the point, you suspect the warm glow coming off the glass was more the point. The wooden door bore upon it the emblem of a steaming loaf partially obscuring a rustic but nostalgic looking kettle. You never owned a kettle.
The two of you enter, the immediate entrance being grated as to allow the rain to run off one’s body and drain away, numerous racks also present to accommodate coats and umbrellas. You look down at yourself. As expected, you weren’t fit for a place like this, you were reluctant to part with your own coat, even despite its rugge- you realise belatedly, that despite it appearing much the same in the rain, under the warm glow of strong lantern light, the finer details on your now-refurbished coat stand out elegantly, the sheen of the leather pleasant and indicative of high quality.
The rest of your clothes, made of that black stuff apparently a mind of Nia’s as much as it is your own is of a high standard too. You’re almost a little too well dressed. The two of you bare clothing of such immaculate make and quality that the rain sloughs off and you’re near bone dry within an instant. Nia gives you a wink as her cloak transforms into an appropriate-enough looking coat over what you’d consider to be her signature tight leather and the two of you enter the store proper, largely following your noses.
The place inside is calm and soothing, a mixture of sweet and savoury and bitter as imported herbs are infused into boiling rain and sold aside small sweet cakes. Funnily enough however, the clientele at the moment isn’t that high class; as high as they can be – titans to your reckoning – but average Landers that perhaps scrimped and saved for months to have a quiet moment out together the evening before solstice, perhaps leaving an elder sibling to mind the others until it would be time to return and prepare dinner as night fell.
You stand there awkwardly, until Nia tugs you along once more with a giggle. “Come on, just do what I do.”
She leads you over to a table and you sit down hesitantly, looking around. “Don’t we have to do or say something?”
“They’ll come to us, just relax.”
You look around a bit before ultimately calming down. You’re still new to actually purchasing things and none of your experiences include the luxury of having the staff come to you, but then you and Nia hadn’t eaten out before. Home meals were amazing and the process was… fun. You couldn’t imagine it without the privacy and the security of your own home to facilitate ‘eating out’. You almost don’t know what would be the point of dining any other way.
You soon find out. Befitting the status of the establishment, you’re noted and seen to almost immediately, a pretty looking young redhead striding over in a pleasantly tight bodice. You’re fairly certain you’d be ogling her relentlessly if not for the fact that a tight bodice was Nia’s idea of casual. The quality and the make couldn’t compare to the magisynth material that seems to readjust itself slightly every time you see it, somehow growing further and further in line with what specific shape and look heats your collar. The one modelling it, far inferior to your dark, sexy mage.
As it is, you look at her with more curious anticipation, though you let Nia do the interacting. It isn’t long before she sends the girl off again. You cop a playful kick to the shin and a pout. “Done, Romeo?”
You roll your eyes. “Are they always like that?”
She raises a brow. “Like what?”
You purse your lips in thought. “I don’t know, fake?”
Nia snorts a laugh, “That’s customer service for you, you get used to it. They’re just there to do a job and earn a living, you’re not going to get a lot of sincerity.” It’s… a lot of words rattle around in your head, but you ultimately settle on ‘convenient’. You don’t question it anymore. Better than the scowls and curses you’re used to receiving from shop owners but then again, you were a thief.
It isn’t long at all before the appetiser arrives, a kettle of tea oozing a fragrant aroma and two small bread rolls, specked with herbs. Alone they have a vaguely salty, savoury taste and the texture; while soft, is flaky. It’d be a bit much if not for the vague bitterness of the tea complimenting it but even beyond that, a pot of thick cream was given and smearing the deliciously sweet stuff over the bread both counter-balances and complements its flavour, making each mouthful inhabit a neutral place between sweet and savoury while also rendering the texture smooth. It’s this neutrality that most brings out the complex aromas of the tea. You enjoy it quite a bit; mainly, you find, since it represents someone else’s hard work. You still prefer Nia’s cooking, but this isn’t bad.
The two of you alternate between idle chatter about the coven and things she’d like to get – either for the sake of her research or for fleshing out the new home – and watching the rain pour off the glass. The shop is very quiet, bar the soft din of other couples chattering in intimate tones. A fireplace burns along one side of the store, decadently luxurious enough to burn actual wood, saving the earthy scent of peat from interfering with the aromas and flavours. It’s the perfect place to lose track of the time, though the time keeper in your belly remains reliable in intervals of mouthfuls.
No sooner had the two of you drained the kettle than does the waitress return with plates in either hand, a fat, glossy looking bun in the middle, cut in half with a decent slab of fish flopped between, bedecked either side with sea lettuce so fresh as to have been fished up by her personally in between the time it took to set the kettle and boil the water. It held its shape too, denoting a firm crispness.
It’s absolutely nothing new to you, but Nia eyes it sceptically, prompting a chuckle. “Don’t forget what kind of water that stuff grew in.” Her eyes instantly brighten. Accompanying the lettuce are some juicy slices of tomato and cucumber, of the land variety. Though these are a little unique, and not entirely natural, cultivated to thrive off the strange environment of rare sun and constant rain. Even then, the primary method of growth is small scale and private, the largest “farms” relying on drawing cover over their crops for the majority of the day.
The end result is quite productive though, if not lucrative. The plates are settled before the two of you. You don’t even really know where to begin, feeling nostalgic as you take Nia’s cues and follow along, mimicking her manners, taking bites here and there. She keeps chatting to you, small jokes here and there making you laugh while she asks your opinion on her research, valuing it less for your experience and more your perspective. Your heart can’t help but swell at her warmth, causing you to forget how out of place you feel.
Little surprise to you, the warmth of the restaurant, the comfy atmosphere, even the meal itself slowly begins to pale in comparison to sharing it with Nia. The mouthfuls pass almost unheeded, if not for the pleasant solid core of satisfaction settling in your stomach, the crisp almost minty crunch of the lettuce and the hearty oil of the fish exciting undertones to the experience rather than the experience itself.
***
Sated, incredible luxury – by your standard at least – paid for, the two of you exit back out into the pouring rain, the time now having slipped into the late evening, early night. Not that you can tell by anything other than the sky being just a little darker, the street lanterns just a little brighter. Without the ambient light of day seeping through the clouds, the lanterns grow all the more resplendent. It’s to the point where they begin to interact with other ornaments hung about under shelter from the rain, bundles of local plants and flowers, or effigies hung in tribute to the rain sprites, gleaming off the lantern light as it strikes shiny trinkets people can bear to put out, or glittering shells fished from the sea.
It all leaves you feeling nostalgic and through the constant rain, you can actually smell the fresh cuts in the air as people hang them up by nightfall as tradition would dictate. Whether they were supposed to be snacks or shelter for the sprites though, you can’t recall. As lamps are lit within homes too, you begin to see silhouettes, shoes on sills for the children expecting gifts. You see things more decorative too as they butt up against the glass, in the shape of lighthouses and boats and fish and witches being menaced by creatures of the bog namely the ones of more cultural significance, hunted by the strange men who willingly venture into the bog for their meat and a myriad other reasons.
Come to think of it, bog turtle soup was another popular meal around this time of year.
“So? What do you want to do now? Do you want me to get you a room up at Keeper’s Peak? Maybe get a little revenge on that asshole mage?”
You laugh. “As unpleasant an encounter as that was, to be entirely honest with you Nia, in a strange way I feel almost grateful to him.” You sigh and shake your head. “No, I’m not interested in revenge, or even visiting the keep. What’s the point?” You chuckle, “Our home is probably already much nicer.” You pause a moment, smiling to yourself and generally just feeling happy about your situation. Smug, is the word.
Nia chuckles. “So? Now what?”
Shrugging, you take her hand. “How about I show you around some of my old spots, give you a bit of a tour?”
“I’d like that.”
***
You feel your pride hurt a little, for how well Nia navigates the rainy streets and the rooftops as you show her around. You suppose her sheer physicality largely nullifies your innate advantage. Her balance is impeccable, as is her co-ordination. Honestly a part of you just wanted to be able to catch her before she falls, but it looks like that little romantic cliché is impossible for now.
You can’t help but notice, as you tread the same old roofs, just how markedly your own abilities have improved. Scaling about these roofs is effortless to you now, you don’t even need the box you left in the alleyway, which is good, because it looks like someone stole it. You retrace your steps and take the leap, squatting down upon the tiles, carefully missing the loose one, to show Nia the latch.
“So this is how you got in and out?”
“Yeah,” You chuckle. “It doesn’t look like they’ve fixed it.” You stare into the window for a moment, reminiscing when you readjust your stance and just so happen to brush across one of the many pockets in your coat, more specifically one of the bulges. It calls your mind back to the bazaar a day earlier. You pull out the small figurine of the flat-figured fish girl and it instantly seems to come alive as the rain falls on it, almost pulsing in your hand a light pale blue. It immediately attracts Nia’s attention.
“What’s that?” She asks tersely, sensing an energy from it not her own. You empathise with her concern, having by now read of a myriad items monstergirls leave lying about to lure or track boys.
You hand it over to her for her inspection. “Just a small trinket I found at the market from this treant, I honestly bought it half thinking I was being scammed. I don’t know what it’s doing, but…” you look its iridescence over. “It’s doing something. She said it would increase your luck with fish, if I recall.”
She looks it over and like any cultured woman, tips it to look up its skirt. “Blue. Hmph. I’d have said you got scammed too, but… it’s not some cheap light-play. It doesn’t feel like any sort of tracking device either, it’s not directing energy anywhere, just… harmonising with the environment. Some kind of witchcraft. Luck with fish you said?” She shoots you a look.
You roll your eyes. “Not that kind, the food kind. Fishing it, cooking it, storing it. She put a bit of a general blanket over it.” Now that you think of it, one of the sahu’s eyes seems to project hunger, while the other satiety. A ward and a blessing. “It seemed pretty vague, but… I’ve taken enough from these guys. Maybe I can tuck it away somewhere, give back a little. Maybe it makes their fish taste better, I don’t know. Improves sales.”
Nia shrugs and hands it back to you. “Well, it doesn’t feel malevolent. Can’t hurt.”
You nod, reaching into your cloak to pull out your trusty knife, similarly refitted, reforged. You do your utmost to channel absolutely none of your energy into it. She says it costed her a mint, but Nia paid to have portal runes inscribed on the now-vorpal blade, projecting a razor thin portal along the edge. You’re trying to lift the latch, not shear it in two. Some training dummies found out the sharp way what kind of devastation a cross section of dimensions does to one’s spacial integrity. At the very least it’s a visceral reminder of portals one-o-one: don’t touch the sides.
It lifts effortlessly like always and you push it open before grinning at Nia. “Easy.” You slip in through the opened window and thunk down near silently, Nia after you. She sticks back, watching as you slip into old habits, listening carefully for any occupants before creeping into the room where they dry the fish. You nestle the fishy fetish away somewhere it won’t be noticed before quietly retreating just as quick. You don’t even need to worry about boxes or footing this time around either. You reach hand down to help Nia up, but it’s clear she only takes it so that she can hold it.
She takes a look back through the window as you gently close it and knock the latch back into place. “How sweet of you.”
You laugh. “The gift, or locking the window behind me? The latter was only ever done so I could continue using this window to steal from them.”
She rolls her eyes. “The gift. I mean, I always knew you were amazing, but still. Not many remember where they came from, when they make it out.”
You shrug at that, feeling a little heat in your cheeks. “It’s nothing. Just an afterthought.” As if to flee, you drop down from the roof, Nia’s laughter sailing after you, even through the rain. She lands softly after you.
She snatches your hand as she comes up next to you. “Where are you going to take me next?”
You look down a moment, thinking to yourself. “I guess there is somewhere I haven’t been in a long time, not since the harbour gangs got a lot rowdier. It should be a lot quieter tonight though, not to mention,” You turn to Nia with a smirk. “I’ll just hide behind you if the worst happens.”
She snorts. “You’re plenty capable yourself now. Maybe I’ll just play the damsel in distress so I can see you fight over me.” You smile wryly and head off down the alleyways towards the harbour.
Walking casually in the open like this is never really advised. It implies confidence and confidence invites challenge. Less often than not, but Landers have a culture of eliminating risk in their daily life. Keep testing fate and eventually it’s going to catch up with you. However, ‘tis the season and even the surliest have a small kernel of cheer in them. That doesn’t mean you’ll get to brazenly waltz along the harbour after dark though, it just means that perhaps you have the luxury of being a little less furtive.
Of course, in your case the confidence is no longer just implied, but actualised and realised. The two of you pass by a number of smaller streets and neighbourhoods, meeting fewer and fewer along the way, until it reaches the point where you only pass by those who have their reasons for not being indoor and instead skulking the streets, on the night of the eve. Thankfully, they measure your stride and seem to think you not worth the effort, passing through as you so obviously are. Vagrants can’t quite master that walk of purpose. You couldn’t anyway.
Along the descent to the harbour, you pass numerous drains and large sewer inlets. You can’t help but notice Nia becoming more and more interested with each one. They’re just… too large. They look almost like tunnels or wells into some vast underground. “No.” You shake your head before she has the chance to even speak. They emit a sort of foreboding and each time you pass one, she notices your pace hasten, no one else lingering about.
“Why not? Didn’t you say you’d show me around your old spots?”
You burst into laughter. “That. That is not an old spot. Not of mine anyway.”
“You mean to say you lived homeless here your whole life in a city that literally never stops raining ever, you took shelter in a storehouse for peat but you’ve never thought to take shelter in the sewers underground?” She looks at you with blatant scepticism and you shrug.
“I don’t know if there even is a ‘sewer system’ down there or if it’s just a permanent underground river with all the rain that passes through. Regardless, it’s well known amongst the vagrants. Less so the thugs and common folk who’d never think to go there in the first place, but the sewers? Yeah, you can enter if you like. I know plenty who did.” You turn back to the yawning, drizzling maw and suppress a shudder. “Never saw any of them again. No one has, no one knows what’s down there, because no one comes back.”
“Oh Rein, darling. You can’t just say that and expect big sis to just walk on by, not the little bit curious.”
You still shake your head adamantly. “Maybe later. I still wanted to show you around some of my old spots.”
“Mrrmm fine, but I will drag you down there. It’s just a little urban exploration, it’ll be fun. Besides, how can you not be curious what they’re hiding. No one comes back? Who does the maintenance on the place then?”
“I’m being completely honest with you Nia. No one’s ever seen the goons of Keeper’s Peak or the neighbourhood thugs venture into one. And no one’s certainly ever seen any one ever walk out of one. As for maintenance…” You pause, stumped. “I don’t really know. There’s never been an issue as far as I’m aware though.”
She just rolls her eyes in irreverent belligerence and to be honest… you can’t help but agree some small bit. The curiosity burns, always had. And now you’re a lot surer of yourself. But still, priorities. It’s a mystery that can be visited at a later date.
The alley the two of you walk suddenly drops to a steep staircase down and after ducking under an overway bridging the two buildings either side, your view suddenly drastically expands to the entirety of the bay, the countless ships docket therein, the scorching gaze of the lighthouse leisurely roaming over the waves and the flickers of lightning in the ever-present, dark clouds.
An island sits in the far distance across from the bay, like a jagged mountain rising from the sea, but beyond the goliath silhouette darkening the fitful horizon, nothing can be seen through the veil of lightning and rain. The distant ocean, actually, is one of the only sources of daylight lighting the sky of Squall’s Landing. Some who are incredibly free with their time oft opt to just sit somewhere quiet, hidden and safe and dry and stare out to sea. Probably the most potent recruitment tool the shipmasters have after crimping drunks.
The two of you descend the steps carefully, them being slippery and dark. The lanterns are less common here as the district moves away from the residential, though larger housing complexes along the waterfront are lit up with festivity. You spy figures moving along the harbour, cloaked with lanterns glowing in the rain, a few more clustered under shelter, drinking or gambling the hours away.
Leading Nia down the stairs, you wait for one of the gangmembers to pass by and take her to the harbour’s edge at a quick but casual pace, the sound of your footsteps splashing upon the slicked floor utterly muted by the constant rain. From the looks of it, a dark plummet into the fitful waves is all that approaches as the two of you head forth but shortly before the edge a small flight of stairs carved along the harbour rises out of the dimness, partially gleaming with the reflection of the first rays of moonlight as it rises, somewhere above the ocean horizon, somewhere below the cloudline.
You take her down the perilous steps, down a good few metres until it stops just shy of the water level, opening onto a small landing, only large enough to moor a single small fishing boat to. At times a particularly strong wave may splash over the stone before receding, but it’s wet already anyway.
“This is what you want to show me?”
“Hey, it’s better than sewers. When I was feeling risky, I’d sometimes come down here to fish, it’s usually okay, you just have to make sure you don’t make too much of a racket or you’ll alert the ones up top.”
She looks you over, noting your empty hands. “How?”
“You steal all the other stuff you need, of course.”
“Why not just steal some food?”
“They get used to it. Gotta change it up, steal from someone else, or steal from someone who isn’t expecting it. Can’t return food, but you can return a fishing rod and some line.” You drop down into a squat and look into the dark waves, taking a little time to reminisce as moonlight flits and swims just beneath the rain-rippling surface. Nia stands behind you, enjoying the view out to sea.
Your reflection stares back at you from the broken water, far healthier than you could ever imagine, all the more alien for it, despite being closer now to your original build than you were just a few months ago. You lose yourself in deep contemplation for a few moments, before a flicker of light out across the near water has you jolting to your feet. You collect Nia almost by pure instinct and hug close to the wall as to avoid the beam of the lantern that shines upon the lip of the stone where you just were.
Nia goes to open her mouth to say something, but you put a finger up against it first. “Shhh.” You look up furtively, as the patrolling man above spends some time idly shining his light over the sea, staring off into the distance. Your heart pounds as you hold your breath, but you’re not broken out of your instinctive response to hide from the man until you feel Nia’s warm, wet lips wrap around your finger, followed soon after by her long tongue
Drawing your gaze back down to look at her your heart quivers, seeming to lift and drop at the same moment, dropping because the smouldering intent in her eyes practically screams mischief, lift as that mischief is probably going to feel real good. You jolt, gasping silently as her hand reaches down to cup your manhood, stroking it with dexterous fingers through the magisynth material which, for all its protection, seems helpless to the stimulation. You squirm nervously, trying to keep still and silent.
She releases your finger from her mouth with a wet pop as her tongue slides off it in coils. She draws back the hood of her outfit. Letting the rain soak into her hair as she opens her coat, the material underneath parting to reveal the mountainous tracts of her pale, perfect white skin. “You mentioned earlier that we’d have to find some time do to it in the rain.”
You’re not quite sure you used those words exactly. Also, “Now really isn-” she pops a finger into your opened mouth, cutting off your hushed whisper.
“Now is the perfect time.” Her hands worm their way into your trousers and her warm, soft fingers stroke along your length and wrap around your balls. You groan softly in reluctant defeat as your prick begins to stiffen.
She wiggles about against you, shifting her stance so that the upperside of her thigh can replace her hand in stroking and massaging you to stiffness. You don’t know when she changed the clothes underneath her, but as she draws her hood back and peels open her suddenly drenches cloak – to set the mood no doubt – what greets you is a vast expanse of rain-beaded moonlit pale flesh. Her perky breasts stand out proud and her pale pink nipples are especially eye catching, the rain dripping off the buds, little goosebumps beginning to form about her perfect skin.
She disrobes you too, drawing the hood of your coat back and running her fingers down your chest, clothes peeling apart as though unbuttoned by the swipe of her hand. You shiver, quickly growing drenched, hair running down your face until she lifts her hands, a little cold to the touch now, and smooths your fringe back.
You smile, in awe at her beauty under the moonlight, enthralled by her seduction in the rain, hair clinging close to her skin in thick strands. She shifts her posture again, her hands resuming their scandalous work at rubbing your cock to stiffness, though you don’t require much assistance there. The other gropes and works at your balls, getting every part of you ready to go and burning hot against the elements.
You wrap your arms around her and hold her close, the rain on her skin making her so cold to the touch that you just want to huddle and warm her up. As your hands roam over her back, you bring your lips to one of her nipples and gently catch it between your teeth. She moans and pushes her self closer against you and though your heart momentarily skips a beat, you ultimately decide that she probably wasn’t loud enough to be heard in the rain. The harbour is significantly louder than the rest of town.
Instead you relax into her. Her hands vanish for a time, the only measure whereby you can track them being the soft skin she presses up to you, her belly first then her hips and finally her thighs. You don’t know if she’s actually de-robing or just pulling the magisynth stuff away from herself. You don’t really care which, just as long as it happens.
You groan with need as your tongue swirls about her puffy areola, thrusting your hips, grinding the length of your cock against her slim, toned belly where it was just placed, nestling into a crevice between the bumps of her abs. She moans, pussy left achingly lonely and quickly rethinks, wrapping her fingers around your base and realigning you to slip between her soft but muscled thighs.
You shudder a gasp around her nipple as she finally sockets the two of you together, like the only two pieces of a complete puzzle. Her arms wrap about you and you all but melt into her overbearing embrace, the rain between you quickly heating up, though when it comes to the swiftly slickening mess between her thighs you don’t know if that’s rain or arousal. You can’t help but notice, actually, that as the two of you grow more passionate, the rain seems to become influenced by it. Some kind of ambient feedback, the water running down her breast seems almost sweet on the tongue and where it touches you, it burns up, feeding off the energies your union emits, in return for boundless, electric pleasure.
It raises questions better suited to be pondered over later. You only need cling to her tight, give pleasure to her breasts with your tongue and mouth. Nia – e’er the active lover – does the rest, swivelling her hips and squeezing them together, tightly milking your cock while also pressing it up against her slit, maybe less fucking you with her thighs and more grinding along your rigid length with her sodden lips. You feel her hand upon your brow and she gently tilts your head back off her bosom, the nipple coming free of your lips with a pop and a satisfying jiggle.
You don’t have long to question, even if you needed to, placing her lips upon your own she pulls you back into her bosom, overwhelming you with her soft embrace. You melt, but between the stone harbour and her weight against you there’s nowhere to go. Her kisses and moans ring so loud through your head, it’s like the everpresent rain decided to abate for a bit. At the very least, despite being so exposed in a public place – any one in a boat should be able to see you – with the rain falling so hard and the strange atmosphere bubbling about the two of you it feels almost private. It’s enough to make you forget the men patrolling above.
Her hips smack against your own as she picks up pace, a very notable warm wetness coating your cock that’s unmistakable. She’s getting close, you can tell by how her breasts heave against your chest, the ground you’re able to steal from her in the kiss, plunging into her mouth and wresting her own leviathan tongue to submission as she grows distracted and short of breath. She rolls her hips along your length over and over, but upon one stroke subtly shifts the direction and position of her hips.
Your eyes almost roll up into your head in bliss, you’d make quite the stupid expression were your eyes even open. In one smooth, soaked motion your cock slides into her wet, wringing folds.
Grinding relentlessly, your large, swollen crown stretches her passage tight about your girth, glans scraping along her soaking folds. Each time she rolls her hips into you, your tip plunges up against the firm ring of her cervix, each time she rolls back, a veritable deluge of her lust drips out and down her thighs.
Your hands begin to roam about her body again, sliding in along the curve of her waist, ultimately sliding down to cup her large, round, perky cheek with one, sliding further down to lift her smooth, squishy thigh with the other, angling her hips for an even deeper penetration and thrusting in yourself, pressing hard against her cervix as it starts to give about your crown. It will; she just has to be closer is all.
Your hips colliding scatters droplets everywhere, your balls swinging up on the thrust and smacking against her ass, soft flesh rippling with impact as the two of you fuck in the rain. Her inner muscles ripple and squeeze, milking your length as you enter and clinging to you as you leave. Her soft belly against yours thrums with lewd inner movements that aren’t entirely conscious. Fragmented memories come to your mind unbidden as you lose yourself in Nia’s softness and vice-tight mage pussy. Memories of whores gossiping in hushed whispers you overheard one time while hiding. How sex in the rain was just… better. You were more likely to conceive, the loads were better, the climax more intense. Even if it left you completely wiped out.
There’s some truth to it. You feel your lusts surge, your cock growing harder and larger inside her as the rain spatters down over and between the two of you, heating up, melting through. It’s a little hard to coordinate though, so ineffably drawn into her kiss. Your hips – as proven – move quite well enough with a mind of their own. Your time with Nia wasn’t just limited to the normal passage of time, but also included time spent dreaming together. She had your body trained well.
It’s the heart and mind that are helplessly drawn to Nia, like moths to a flame. Her kiss nourishes your spirit inasmuch as it stimulates your body. Her laugh and smile, gasp and moan your tonic. Holding her in the rain, this beautiful moonlit goddess lowering herself to a level you can touch, hold. Make love to. You indulge, dive into these emotions freely, getting all the harder knowing that Nia can feel what you feel for her. Her tightness, the way her cervix spreads about your cock, so eager to take you into her deepest place, it’s a feedback loop, like the best sex always is with monsters.
She quivers and clenches around you, moaning and whimpering into the kiss as your cock grinds past a particularly sensitive spot. You’re immeasurably thankful for the kiss muffling the sounds of her pleasure. Any other circumstance you feel like she’d be loudly calling your name, invoking her love to even greater heights of bliss.
Fingers sinking as deep into her plushy ass as the honed muscle beneath will allow, you grip and slam home, feeling your orgasm build. What catches you off guard, is the tight ring that lowers, parts and seals behind your cock again, dragging at your glans as you try and pull out, a sharp shard of pleasure, as you yank yourself back out of her womb. In keeping rhythm you try and thrust back in through Nia’s damp Dark Mage muff, but it grows near crushingly tight, the inner muscles spasming in discoordination. The leg you’d lifted, which Nia had hooked about your hips shakes in climax.
Through it all, her kiss remains steady, her weight entirely trusted to you now. You suppose the only inkling you had of her impending orgasm was the rush of your own, you just hadn’t expected her to hit hers before you. The arduous journey back to the womb is bet with her descending cervix, shocked in dismay at your earlier abrupt exit and determined to lock you within, the rest of her makes the only harmonious action she takes during her climax, to tie and hold and keep you tight. Her leg slips from your side to hook around behind you, her pussy seizes down mid-contractions and her womb seals shut about your cock head as your loins boil over and your balls clench to spurt thick ropes of seed directly against the back of her uterus, lavishly plastering her walls in hot sticky white.
What takes it out of you, you feel, is a larger load than usual, the rain around you sapping some measure of your energy in return for helping overdraw your reserves directly into Nia’s mini mage-maker. It also seems to go into overdrive; you’ve no internal view into her uterus, but by the thick torrent distending your cock in pulses, this is one of your larger loads and in previous dalliances you’ve left her gravid enough to look pregnant. Her slim belly, however, remains just that. Cum doesn’t gush out of her either, what does is a berserk energy just barely internalised that blasts all the rain around the two of you away in a bubble of a little less than a metre around.
As the last of your load is dumped directly into her somehow not already overloaded womb, the strength leaves you and you collapse down to the floor in a barely controlled fall, slide down the wall almost, ending in a kneel with Nia in your lap having been brought down with you, still kissing, though she ends it with a low, long vibrating moan.
“That… was something else.”
“Mmh.” That’s about all you can say at the moment, so thoroughly drained, though as you hold her close, you feel yourself becoming reenergised by the moment.
She rests her cheek upon your crown, your own face protected from the rain by the breasts shoved up against it. “I think, dear, there is some worth in researching this rain. It’s not usually my field of expertise, but perhaps we ought to make outings to the Landing a little more frequently.”
“I’m sure that’s your only motivation.”
“Are you kidding? Obviously I want you to fuck my brains out like that again. I’m just saying it’s worth checking out on top of that.”
You let out a chuckle then give her a little squeeze. “Come on. I know we’re great and all, but much more of this and we really will get sick. Lets warm up.”
***
The two of you stand around a roaring brazier under actual shelter. Decadent. You slowly warm up and dry off before the heat of the flame, perhaps unnecessary, the magisynth material perfectly capable of insulating you and trapping body heat even if soaked to the bone. You still rather be dry. Certainly, the poor fellow sleeping off a new egg on his head would probably agree and thank you for not tossing him out to the rain.
Your doing, Nia teasing you over your innate reaction from around half an hour ago. You had to prove your mettle some way and stepping out of the rain to catch him unaware with the pommel of your dagger was effortless enough. She pulls out – from gods knows where – some fresh pies, only small things, a few bites at most, but piping hot. Leftovers from some of the baking the two of you did together nearly a week ago now. You know she’s kitted out with all kinds of trinkets and oddities, something as time-space defying as this doesn’t surprise you overly. You opt not to question, as is your usual habit with her myriad little surprises.
The taste reminds you of home. She scoffs hers.
“So? Are we going to go back home now? Have you had your fill of the place? You didn’t want to spend a few nights up in the keep, surely you’re not expecting me to sleep on the streets.” She adds with some level of teasing sarcasm.
You snort. “No I think we’ve had enough of being wet and cold.” You sigh, licking your fingers then placing them back by the fire to warm up again, some melancholy settling into place. “It’s been nice to… reconnect with this place, but honestly I’m feeling a bit over it at the moment. I’m looking forward to our fireplace, a nice hot bath and a good book.” You turn to her. “There is just one thing though… if you wouldn’t mind indulging me.”
Nia steps up to you, sensing your change in mood and pulls you into an embrace, burying your head into her bosom. “Anything, Rein. Anytime.”
“I don’t know if it’s just the season getting to me,” You mutter into her breasts, now covered again, padded thickly by her warm coat, though that doesn’t stop her natural perfume from seeping through. “I feel overwhelmed by a kind of gnawing guilt. Like… I didn’t deserve you, I didn’t deserve to get away from this life. These streets.”
“That’s stupid.”
“I know. Maybe I’m just trying to soothe my own guilt, but… there’s something I’d like to do for the people like me. Especially tonight, of all nights. I won’t pay you back, because I know you’d hit me for suggesting it, but is there some way… any way you could purchase some kind of…” you trail off as Nia begins to laugh.
“I think I know where you’re going with this. To be honest Rein, I have a little present for you, I was planning on surprising you a little later, but… come. Follow me.” Much to your surprise, she begins to lead you through the alleys of Squalls Landing. Your heart rate increases each step you take though, as you quickly begin to recognise the neighbourhoods she’s leading you through. You’re being slowly drawn step by step back to your old haunt.
It’s in the midst of this you come to a near skidding halt, almost slipping over yourself as you reach forth to grasp Nia and forcibly haul her back behind the corner the two of you just rounded. Taken by pure surprise, she all but tumbles into you as you hug the corner, heart thrumming wildly in your chest. “R-Really Rein? You don’t have to be so rough. I-I mean, I suppose I don’t mind but it’s quite sudden-” Nia starts to squirm against you and despite how pleasant her curvy, buxom body feels against you, you’ve no mind for lust at the moment. You bring your hand to her mouth, clasping it shut and cutting her words off as you take a moment to recover, heart still pounding.
She quickly grows sombre and extracts herself from your grip, before looking around the corner. You can’t help but peek after her, hoping you’re mistaken, but there standing in the middle of the alley, her back turned to you, looking up to the rain is a beautiful young woman, drenched to the bone.
Her clothes cling to every curve of her body jealously and her long dark hair sticks all around her. It’s a little too dark to make out the colour of her hair but it sits upon her sodden flesh in stark contrast to the pale almost blue tinged skin. She wavers, or shivers, maybe in cold. She strikes a sad, pitiful figure, so much so that Nia turns back to you with some doubt in her eyes, searching though her sarcastic lips fly earlier than she manages to make any conclusion.
“Really Rein? The guy I kind of understood, but this girl?”
You only shake your head, deathly serious. Nia takes note of your expression and frowns. You don’t sense disappointment in her, just a sense of… agitation and competition. She strides off towards the woman before you’re able to fully explain yourself. You can only muster your courage and walk after her.
“Oi. You. Turn around.” Nia calls out through the rain, seeming to shock the drenched woman, who turns around at the – fairly – rude address. Her eyes, light blue orbs brighten upon seeing you. Nia in the meantime is scrutinising every inch of this woman. When the wet woman smiles at you and you feel yourself compelled to smile back, you find yourself in a bit of a situation of turnabout. Nia’s hand covers your lips as she fairly growls the word “Mine.” To the woman.
The other woman instantly scowls, turning her eyes to Nia some evident recognition in her features. “Well kindly fuck off then, would the two of you? You’re getting in the way of my hustle here.” She scoffs. “Any minute a cute boy could wander down this alley,” she shoots an abrasive glare to Nia, “without their own ‘tall, dark mage and pretty’ over here lurking around. If they see you, they’re gonna be spooked. So scram.”
You step out and speak up, looking over the woman. “We all know not to touch women who just stand out in the rain by themselves. It’s common knowledge.”
The woman falters then huffs defeated. “I know, but tradition is tradition, you wouldn’t get it. Besides it’s a good challenge, seeing what works. Jeannie scored hers with just a little accidental nipslip. I don’t believe I can’t manage to top that.”
Nia ignores the ranting woman, though keeps an eye on her as she turns to you. “Let me guess. ‘No one ever returns’?”
You nod enthusiastically. “They’re almost as bad as the sewers. No one knows what they are, just an urban legend mostly.”
The woman harrumphs smugly. “There’s a very good reason no man ever returns, follow me, boy and you’ll find out.”
Nia chuckles, “It’s because they live in the sewers, with all the filth the men probably choke to death.”
The woman instantly bristles, raindrops scattering off her as her hair begins to ooze and deform, seeming to defy gravity as water energy gathers around her, though her eyes betray a hint of apprehension towards Nia. “I’ll have you know we keep the place immaculate. Besides, so much rain passes through, it’s effortless to keep the place sparkling. What are you, stupid?”
Nia continues to ignore her. “Rainy woman, wet woman, or Nureonago in other tongues. They’re a kind of slime, a particularly sophisticated one that are almost half spirits. In retrospect, it’s so obvious they’d be everywhere in a city like this.”
The slime perks up. “There’s an entire city of us down there, the drains are enormous and no one ever goes down to check. Of course, we spread all kinds of rumours to keep people out unless we bring them in personally. Can’t have them all finding out and trying to drive us out. You know your stuff, dark mage.”
You tilt your head. “So you’re some kind of secret society?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re just admitting it?”
She sneers at you this time. “Who’s gonna believe you, witch-lover? Aargh, shit. I don’t feel like hanging around anymore. I’ll just count its another failure. Tonight of all nights too…I bet all my other sisters got lucky picking up lonely, single men.” Depressed and despondent, the slime saunters off into the gloom, leaving only her voice to trail behind. “By the way, merry solstice. Toss some guys into the sewers if you get a chance to wrangle them up.”
You stand there a little bit stunned as the woman, the local horror story leaves. Apparently one of many. One of many who live in an entire city underground. You’d rather not think of it. “Well,” Nia mutters. “I guess we know what’s in the sewers.” She looks to you. “Still want to go?”
“I never did.”
She grins, “Not even a little curious? Let me tell you, the sewers in this place have to be an absolutely enormous labrynth. Those slimes are atypically industrious and highly community driven. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find a thriving parallel city under there, full of all the men who wandered in and horny, horny slimes that wouldn’t let them go.”
You shake your head, still recovering from the shock to joke. You still remember all the times you encountered such women only to turn right the fuck around and undiscover them immediately. Every one you knew did. That’s how you managed to keep knowing them. “Maybe we can talk about it some other time.”
“Sure, but remember how I said we’d have to contact a girl down in blackwater? If you want to improve yourself along those lines, it could be very beneficial paying those slimes a visit. You couldn’t ask for a better teacher on that particular topic and unlike some wilder types, in leu of cock they’re more than happy to engage in conventional trade. Think about it.”
The two of you start heading off again, your excitement for your eventual destination diminished though you hold a significant bit of relief in your heart ready to be released once you finally reach it. It isn’t far to go, only taking another five minutes or so before you lay eyes upon the familiar storage shed. You cast a glance of askance to Nia, who smiles at you. “Go in, take a look.” She calls out just as you head towards the loose section of wall by sheer force of habit. “Through the front doors, honey. I had that patched up.”
You halt, a little redfaced and chastised. ‘Patched up’? You push the twin doors open to reveal the spacious shed, void of the peat that was one curing within. You can’t help but gawk for a few moments, seeing it so drastically empty. “It’s yours now, big sis bought the entire thing and paid off a few of the local contacts around here, just in case. So? What were your plans?”
You look about the place in silence before turning to Nia and telling her your idea.
***
A knot of hopefulness and anticipation worms in your gut as you hurry your way back to the storage shed. You know it’s a long shot, you felt ridiculous even telling him about it, that a shelter would just pop up out of nowhere offering warmth, free food and a place to sleep. You can only hope the coin sways Nia’s contact to spread the word regardless. You know you would never pay heed to such a rumour yourself, but the curious, brazen and desperate would. Word would spread from there. Hopefully.
As you enter the shelter you’re instantly stunned by the difference, second guessing if you entered the right place if not for Nia, currently standing before someone else though that’s a bit misleading – looming is perhaps more accurate as the imp spies your entry just as she turns to walk through a slowly closing portal. Her wings flutter and she shoots you a thumbs up and a grin from under a glaring yellow leather cap, tool bag hanging from her tail. She vanishes and the portal closes, behind it now, you see a fireplace where there wasn’t one, a few hefty peat logs already burning with that nostalgic smell. It’s not the most pleasant, but you understand precisely why it’s peat and not wood or even the fire crystals you have at home being burnt. You have to keep within your apparent means after all.
You look around yourself, the kitchen up one end, the rows and rows of mats and bedding, the large lighthouse-shaped brazier in the middle filling the whole storehouse with warmth, little decorative lanterns lining the walls. Bags of produce sit by the kitchen benches, a huge cauldron resting in the fireplace, piles of wooden bowls and cutlery. You spy a few instruments laid by the wayside, strings and drums by an area to sit and piles of parcels wrapped up neatly and stacked to the side.
“W-what is all this? How did you do all this so fast?” You look around yourself in amazement, then direct most your awe to Nia.
She only chuckles. “Magical contractors. It was quite a feat doing all the calculations to open up a stable portal into the coven from here. I expect to be praised and pampered later but for now I think we had better hurry up and get a move on cooking. I’m sure it won’t be long until people arrive.”
You grin, “With us cooking? Even if we hadn’t spread the word, people would be flocking.”
The two of you quickly set into a pace, the shelter soon resounding with the clack of blade on chopping board. You effortlessly guide the blade, small slivers of native bog roots and tubers falling by the wayside of your curled fingers, flat of the blade never leaving your knuckles as a mound begins to form while Nia handles the meat and seasoning. Hers was the more masterful hand. The smell of freshly chopped vegetables begins to fill the air and soon it is joined by the scent of frying vegetables and frying meat.
It’s just as you’re about to head out with the cauldron to fill it with rainwater that you spy a small shadow in the doorway. A young boy stares at the two of you warily, though with evident hunger in his gaze. You look about awkwardly, noting the food was a long way from ready and having nothing to show for your first visitor was the absolute last impression you wanted to make.
“Hey there.” You call out and he flinches back a step. “Uh, sorry. We’re not quite ready yet. Um… do you wa-”
“Rein.” Nia interrupts you, gesturing with her head towards the pile or parcels against the wall as you turn to her. “Give him one of those.”
You do so, just about as curious as to what’s in there as the boy is apprehensive as to what’s going on. Whatever’s in the package feels sort of stiff. You hand it over to the timid boy, who makes some distance before opening the packaging, revealing some dried fish. Your eyes open a little in surprise. Not a bad gift as gifts go. Especially when you’re hungry. You don’t make it even halfway through your thought process before the boy vanishes into the rain. You chuckle. “We’ll probably be out of those before a single bed is filled tonight.”
Nia shrugs. “All that matters is that you do what you can. Whether people chose to trust or not is up to them.”
You nod, more than aware yourself of the nature of Landers. Rather than fret over it, you heft up the large cauldron and bring it outside. It begins to fill and rapidly at that, taking only five or so minutes to fill most the way up. When you settle it down back over the fire, Nia approaches with a fistful of cubes, of a dried, powdery substance that dusts away to nothing with the slightest rub. You look at her in surprise. “Are you sure?” You of course know what it is, broth stock, a la the convenience of magic. You’re just surprised she’d use it here.
Nia winks at you and lifts a finger to her plump lips. “They won’t know. Tonight’s a special night, isn’t it?”
You gape for a moment before smiling helplessly. These are just bums and vagrants, you want to help but you don’t know if they deserve that much. You take a back seat now as she masterfully contorts the flames to lick over the cauldron precisely where she wants them to. With one hand the controls the heat, with the other she stirs the cauldron, her utmost attention on her craft. It’s moments like this you understand most what she means when she says that cooking is a form of alchemy.
You laugh. Perhaps sensing some ill intent she turns to glower at you. “What?”
“Nothing.” You shake your head, the spectre of a smile still hanging from your lips. You look her over once more.“It’s just that you’re probably a little too good at that. Are you sure you’re not a witch?”
“Are you sure you should be making fun of your wife within ladling distance?”
Your eyes go wide as she slowly draws it out of the soup and flicks it clean, the metal gleaming in the firelight. “No! Ack!” Smack. The room fills with Nia’s cruel laughter at first as you futilely try to shield your butt from her whacks, shimmying this way and shifting that. It turns to her aggrieved squeals and giggles as you finally manage to parry a blow and slip under her guard, searching fingers worming into her coat and getting at her sensitive parts.
“S-sah, Stahpit!~” She gives out half weird moans as she tries to beat you off her and in her haste her grip loosens up on the ladle, allowing you to wrest it from her and lay into her large, round, tightly leather-clad butt. “Ahhn~!” Thwack “Ahh!” Whap. With a burst of force she lunges away from you and snatches a large wooden spoon from the bench, flourishing it as if a rapier.
Wood and steel collided as her eyes of lavender met yours of iron. You mustered all your training. Knuckles were rapped that night, bottoms spanked. A minor solstice truce was only called as both of your noses twitched and Nia flitted back to the soup to stir that one burning spot. “This is all your fault you know.”
You offer the coup de grace with your bare hand, lingering on her rump a while with a healthy squeeze that sees her squirm against you like a cat. “You started it.”
“Mmm, I’m lucky you know how to end it~”
You shake your head, sorely tempted, but the shadow that just appeared in the doorway demands your attention. The strong scent of soup had long since filled the room and you wouldn’t be surprised if it spread as far as the near neighbourhood despite the rain.
You turn to him as he takes stock of the room from under the hood of his cloak, the beds, the warm fire, the smell of food. He’s a lot more grizzled. Scarred, probably tussled with thugs fairly often, there’s a wary mettle to him. Not the kind you’d necessarily try to steer clear of, just the kind you wouldn’t get a chance to interact with, ordinarily.
You watch his eyes drift over to the parcels. You smile at him. “Hey. Welcome. Come in, soup’s nearly ready.”
He looks over to you, looking you over and assessing, eyes flitting a moment to Nia before returning to you. “So what’s all this, then?”
“Just somewhere warm and dry to spend the night before solstice. Maybe longer too, though I haven’t quite figured it out yet.”
He sneers. “We don’t need your pity.”
You can’t help but snort. “It’s not pity, it’s guilt. Don’t pretend you’re above taking advantage of it.”
He reassesses you again, eyes sparking with a kind of familiarity as he cocks his head slightly. “That’s it? You’re just here to get taken advantage of?”
“Pretty much.” You shrug.
“…Why?”
“I used to be the same as you.”
You feel like he wants to retort, but outside of your clothes, a glance of your scrawny physique – outwardly at least – does kind of back your point up. Then there’s the way you’ve learnt to carry yourself and not gotten around to unlearning yet. “What happened?”
You grin. “Ran outta luck.”
He laughs. “Good or bad?”
“Hard to say.” Nia shoots you a glare.
“Well good on you. So that’s it then? You’re just here to make yourself feel better?”
“Yep.”
He stares at you in silence for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Well there’s a motivation I understand, hahaha.” He strides inside and settles down by the fire, ignoring your eyes following him. A blissful sigh emerges as he soaks in the heat of the flame, taking his hood off to reveal a mop of tangled, dirty hair and holding his hands out to the fire. After a moment, he takes a glance to the parcels by the side of the building.
“Those are presents for later.” You decide so with little input from Nia, but whatever deal she worked out with the imp, that was probably the intended use of them anyway. Even witches had a culture of giving gifts.
“Why’d the boy get his then?”
“Bait. Also we weren’t quite ready yet.” You admit, bashfully, serving up a bowl of the soup.
“Two.”
“One.”
“Two, it’s what I deserve for being the lab rat.”
“One and an extra little bit if you finish it before any one else gets here. They’ll come regardless of what you do.”
He looks at you with shock and scepticism, his belly already aching and groaning emptily in anticipation of your wager. “Are you sure you came from here?”
You snort, staring the man down as though he were a hundred years too early. “You won’t be able to just drink this down. Besides, if you guzzle it without appreciating my wife’s cooking she’ll beat it back out of you.”
***
In the end, others arrived before he could make it halfway through his first bowl. You feel like your threat wasn’t as potent as your enticement, however. The first tentative taste was enough to convince him to savour every drop. He wasn’t even mad when the others began to file in. Soon enough the room began to fill with the sounds of slurps and spoons clunking against bowls. After bellies were filled small groups began to form. Some were tired and desperate enough they claimed their own little roll and immediately went to sleep, probably their nicest in a long time.
Others – perhaps not born to the streets but fallen to them – picked up a few of the instruments and with their own meagre talents began to suffuse the shelter with festive cheer. A little inconsiderate to those sleeping perhaps, but the soft beat of a drum or the hum of a lyre was preferable to the pelting of rain and if you can sleep to that, you can sleep to this.
Small conversations cropped up here and there, a good deal huddled about the brazier and while you didn’t delude yourself into believing it’s the start of something more, it’s nice to see all the same. All in all, the cauldron’s empty, some few dozen bellies filled and by some tacit miracle they left the packages unmolested as you scattered them about the room with Nia. Perhaps some yearning for the semblance of a normal solstice morning kept their desire for immediate satisfaction at bay.
The music died down, one lone vagrant plucking away softly, yet somehow filling the room with more spirit than before, harmonising with the soft low hum of combusting peat, small quiet crackles and the constant battering of rain upon the tiled roof. More and more settled into their beds and the conversations that began about the fires, or began in small groups fell to silence and hushed whispers.
***
You look about yourself, satisfied that you were able to achieve all you had wanted to. You have no idea if it will even last to the morning, but really, creating something long term wasn’t your goal. You just wanted this, this ephemeral memory, this token of absolution. You take Nia’s hand as she stands beside you and turn to her with a grin. “Thanks. Thanks for going along with all this.”
She just smiles back. “As long as you’re happy. Ready to go now? I’m sorry, but I don’t fancy sleeping here.”
You grin. “Yeah, lets go home.” The two of you turn and head out of the shelter, linking hands once again.
She lifts an eyebrow at you. “Any particular rush?”
A laugh escapes your lips. “Yeah. I want a cup of tea five minutes ago.” The two of you head down a quiet alley, made only a little noisier by your footsteps ‘till a flash of light returns it to silence, or thereabouts.
When the queer vertigo lifts, you find yourself standing by Nia in the middle of your home, belatedly noticing now a dimming array in the very centre. You look over to the dark mage and she winks. “Just something I had rigged up to make coming home a lot easier. If we’re to go travelling, there’ll be times you’ll appreciate a quick return.” As she speaks, her cloak and coat shift forms, returning again to something light and comfortable and most importantly loose and easy access. It is, however, in keeping with the clear night sky and cool wind, just enough to keep her warm, fluffy tufts of white rimming a velvet red in a long gown tied together by the front.
You lay your own coat aside, your clothes also shifting to something comfier, a thicker, softer warmer robe and a pair of soft slippers. “I certainly wasn’t looking forwards to trekking through the bog again.”
“No, not particularly. Also, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.” She says as she looks out across the balcony.
You tilt your head as you tend to the fire and place a kettle above the glowing crystals. “Miss what?”
She smiles suggestively. “You’re not the only one with traditions around this time of year. We missed out last time because we were so busy and preoccupied, but this time, I want to really relax and enjoy it.”
You grimace as you begin to pour out two cups. “Does it involve going out?”
Nia laughs. “No, no. Unless you want to, of course, but personally I’d like a quiet night tonight. Well, what’s left of it.”
You hand her one of the mugs. “So what didn’t you want to miss?”
She just smiles mysteriously and heads off down to the balcony, bidding you to follow her where she places the mug upon a nearby table and reclines in a lounge, patting beside her. “Come lie here with me and see.”
Shrugging, you follow after, taking a long, deep sip of the tea before setting it aside on the table and laying beside Nia. She’s quick to wrap her arms around you. You accept her embrace willingly, immersed in her pleasant scent, her warmth and her softness. However, no matter how willing you are to do this anytime, anywhere, you had laid beside her for a purpose, or so you believed.
Seeing as nothing extraordinary was forthcoming, you twist in her embrace, turning your head as it rests in her bosom and craning it up in askance, but all you’re met with is a pair of lips. This is totally unalike the kiss you’d shared earlier as you were agonising over your place in the world.
It’s passion intense and hot, you barely get to gasp or moan in surprise before her long tongue is diving into your mouth and coiling about your own. Her slender fingers peel open your robe and your heart lunges up to your throat as her silken tips slide over your skin. With one hand she continues to strip you of your clothes, her own already slipping away to nothingness. Her other worms its way between your bodies, fingers curling about your shaft as it lay trapped between the two of you. She starts stroking it to stiffness against her milky toned belly.
Initially, the moment sweeps you up and you don’t question it. Eagerly you sink the fingers of one hand into her bosom while the other crosses hers where your bodies meet, sinking digits into her sopping folds. Her slippery walls suck and cling to you desperately, loving every inch of your fingers despite the fact they’d rather be filled with something thicker, bigger and hotter.
The two of you are completely nude together before you know it, both orbs floating nearby idle, the cool night air desperately trying to cut through but the heat you’re generating is easily enough to negate it although not so easily that it doesn’t clear your head a little bit, remind you of the seemingly random suddenness of this all.
You break free of the kiss, squirming with a light chuckle. “What, didn’t you get enough earl- wait, what am I saying, when have you ever had enough?”
She gives a play growl and lunges for your lips again, but you manage to block her affections with a finger which she summarily pops into her mouth. You tilt your head. “But why all of the sudden?”
“Mrrmmrecause.” She reluctantly releases your finger. “You won’t be able to appreciate it with a clear mind. Besides. I just wanna fuck and be warm and cozy and full of cum tonight. Do I need a reason?”
You shake your head, baffled, but ultimately you reach around a long, lissom leg of hers and lift it up. “Your wish is my command. Besides, I’d never say no.”
She smiles at you. “That’s a good boy. Just be obedient and listen to big sis. Although, you should try saying ‘no’ once in a while. We haven’t done that roleplay in a long time.” She shifts a little as she lies down beneath you, lifting her leg up and up and over until it’s resting by her head, her bald pussy parting for you and already sopping wet. She must have been wanting this bad for a while.
“We don’t have long now, Rein. Put it in and fill me up.” Needing absolutely no other invitation you lift yourself off her just to angle your tip in before sinking back down, manhood first pressing against the entrance of her tight womanhood, before slowly spreading her lips about your bulging head and forcing her entrance apart, ultimately plunging through her drenched folds to an audible squelch as she cries and moans aloud, hitching in pitch the deeper your cock spears against her sensitive folds.
You come to rest atop her, your faces nearly touching. She shakes and shudders, pussy clenching, though you don’t know if that’s in anticipation for a greater climax or if she just came from penetration alone. You’re happy to rest hilted within her, balls resting on her thigh as she catches her breath, her walls pulsing milking contractions around you. Eventually, she gathers herself and waves a hand and the two orbs combine into one large blanket that drapes over the both of you, thick and fluffy and instantly trapping the heat and scent of your lusts.
“Warm~ and cozy~” She moan-sighs by your ear. “Work hard to fill big sis up and just maybe you’ll be in time for a special bang.”
Your only response is to wrap your arms around her, leg and all and bear your weight down upon her until you sink in beyond the hilt, mashing your pelvis flat up against hers and feeling the end of her passage kiss your tip. You can’t help but grin at the pure honesty on display from her lips, hips and mouth, your hot breath mingling with hers, your noses nearly touching. There’s a certain charm to a woman begging for it, especially when she loves to put the shoe on the other foot.
Your friction only builds underneath the thick covers, a sheen of sweat quickly dampening between you as the temperature rises, but it’s a different kind of sweat, unalike the sharp bitter scent of the unbathed and unalike the ‘cleaner’ smell of fresh sweat earned through labour, this sheen is almost sweet and absolutely reeking of pheromones and lust. Between your own changing essence, her monstrous nature and the cover of the magisynth orbs, you don’t know which influence here is to blame, but it’s queerly pleasant regardless. Like a sauna, or perhaps one of the more exotic practices you’ve witnessed here in the coven from witches hailing from distant lands who drape a blanket over a table, toss some fire crystals under it and call it a cozy, cozy day.
The heat seems to have some other influences on the two of you as well, Nia’s welcoming passage almost sweltering hot, the lust you’re able to dredge out from her writhing depths with the glans of your cock coming out almost boiling. Your lusts seethe together as you thrust, no, it’s now too hot and cozy for even that, you rock against her pelvis. Her leg, once up by her ear as you first thrust in rustled its way under the covers to rest over your back, her other leg entangling with your own.
What began as perhaps a little bit intense quickly simmers down into a low smoulder. She wraps her arms about you and pulls you down into a kiss, again different from the last, not desperate but a languid affair of hot tongues and molten saliva swapping, lazily slipping and sliding about, your two chests rising and falling in unison as you hump her under the covers, the lounge squeaking on the balcony adding to the gentle noise of the wind.
You manage to slip a hand between your hot sweaty bodies to sign your fingers into her breast, molesting the soft flesh, but that’s about as active as you get. The hands she had resting on your back begins to slip lower and lower until her fingers are sinking into your butt, gripping you close, but you already weren’t thrusting out very far, more grinding against her depths, her encouragement only inspiring you to more of the same.
She breaks the kiss and your head collapses into her bosom, your lips resting just to the side of her neck as she tilts her head back to watch the sky. “Rein~ Rein~” Each moan is accompanied by her half guided grinding hips. Each pant and calling of your name the easiest, most natural thing. “Rein~ Rein~” You pick up pace unwittingly, her hands returning to your upper back, one going further to stroke at your head. “Rein~ big sis is gonna… g-gonna cuuummm~~~”
Her last cry is completely drowned out. Her orgasm coincides with yours, the hastening of the pace your undoing, but against such a sweetly moaning wife you defy anyone to keep their cool in such hot, sticky, sweaty, sexy circumstances. Her orgasm coincides with yours; coincides with an explosion that almost scares the cum out of you, if it wasn’t already surging from your broiling loins. You turn your head just in time to see a missile fly high into the sky.
It shoots, bulbous at the top, a long, wiggling tail waving in its wake until it reaches a certain height, stays there a moment and then explodes into Nia’s womb, smearing the sky a brilliant white, little flares to either and smaller explosions, her fallopian tubes being flooded with cum.
It flows out of her pussy in spurts that cascade down from the midnightsky in little sparkles, evocative imagery, but only the first of many. You sigh into her bosom, head swimming in post-cum bliss as more explosions ring out, more missiles fly into the air. Great stars of green and blue and red are born, then shapes in the sky. Crude at first, outlines, though as the fanfare grows on and they run out of simple shapes, cocks, great pink hearts made out of a salvo of missiles, other more fantastical displays light up the night sky.
Brooms made of sparkling flares, witch silhouettes that are then blasted up into the sky to overlap, as if riding. Shapely witches etched in fire, brooms the blasted up into the sky to overlap, as if riding in the other sense.
“Ha~ Ha~” Nia pants for a bit as you both nuzzle together, watching the display. A smile etches its way onto your lips. She was absolutely right, these lifelike images staining the sky, animated, some grand and majestic, some more akin to lewd graffiti, are much better enjoyed with an empty head, hot and sweaty and oh so cozy. “This is what I wanted to see. This is what I wanted to show you.”
Her fingers rustle through your hair as she pauses a moment, thinking, taking it in. “Merry Solstice, my love.”
“Merry Solstice, dear.”
Penywise's Reliquary 
Whoo! Christmas present! 😀
A ray of sunshine after they closed the MGE Wiki 😦
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
It is also a long read, I’ll post my views later.
LikeLike
Hopefully the new host’s stable enough to last a long while. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you too, thanks for sticking around and reading!
LikeLike
OK, I finished it (I had to re-visit the prequel, this one deserved as much). Great work and very solid word-building. It leaves a few questions (which, I guess, are the follow-up for future stories), but overall quite good and heartwarming, being Christmas / solstice and all.
And, of course, I appreciate that it ended with a bang. OK, I’ll see myself out….
LikeLike
Hey man is everything alright? I’ve really enjoyed your stories and we’re just wondering if you were still alive.
LikeLike