I'm 26, I'm demimasc, I use they/them, and I'm dreadfully gay.
And hopelessly romantic.
If you're here, you've probably seen that I indulge in writing and drawing gay smut. This site's a repository for all that. Well, the stories mostly.
This is Nos'akaze! Or Nozzy. He's not my fursona, but he'll happily rep me
I love fantasy and that's what you'll see here. Fantasy and Fucking™. Media-wise, you'll primarily see a lot of:
✦ Dungeons & Dragons
✦ Guild Wars 2
✦ Warcraft trolls
✦ Pillars of Eternity
with some others too.
If it wasn't obvious, 90% of content here is NSFW. But other content tags are provided for every story. Check 'em out to see if one's not for you. Or maybe you see something you like.By the way, this site's been on hiatus for a while. I've still been writing since then, I promise! They'll be published here over time as I come out of hiatus 🙏
Newest Story
Took a Lycan To
Series:Dungeons & Dragons
Published:July 2, 2023
Roscoe is simple. He hunts, he fucks, and he wanders. Taroo complicated that cycle. The halfling made him want to stick around and enjoy their company. To care more about them than just being a potential hookup. So after Roscoe rescues Taroo from a bloody kidnapping, the hunter sought to gift them a lovely get-well-soon flower. One that leads to him realizing he cares more about the halfling than he originally thought.
About the images:
Unless a drawing was done by me, they are cropped to remain within the acceptable content policy of Carrd.co. Basically, other artists' works on here can't be explicit. You can click on the link below each cropped image or visit the story on FurAffinity to see the full image.
For FurAffinity, you will need a registered account with adult settings enabled to access them.
Written stories & characters are © Archee 2018 - 2023
Artwork is © their respective owners, artists provided in relevant descriptions
Game characters and other lore are © their respective companies
My first icon was drawn by LutroDraws, the second by OrionT, both on FurAffinity
The parallax illustration for Newest Stories was drawn by t0l0k on FurAffinity
Story Series Navigation
✦ A World With You
Living World stories with the Guild Wars 2 human commander Lorenzo Frost, his Warcraft troll boyfriend Zen'mafa, and eventually his second boyfriend, the norn mistwarden Fjorst Laursson.✦ The Watcher of Caed Nua
Side stories of the Watcher from Pillars of Eternity fumbling over his romantic pursuits.✦ Anals of History
Stories revolving around a Dungeons & Dragons gnome artificer and explorer Opus Loregit and their loving partners and family as they navigate the world.✦ Anchored to Your Tide
Stories of a charming dwarf bard Ákos Kalnath and their dragonborn shipwright boyfriend Isnath in this sea-themed Dungeons & Dragons campaign.✦ Short Stories
Other short, usually self-contained stories from various media series. The bulk of this site.
Parallax artwork by GhostBro on FurAffinity
A World With You
This set of stories deals with the adventures of the human Tyrian Commander Lorenzo Frost, his troll boyfriend Zen'mafa, and eventually his second boyfriend, the norn mistwarden Fjorst Laursson. A series of Guild Wars 2 stories with Warcraft elements!
Chronology:
[❖Still WIP, ⚉Non-sexual]
Parallax artwork by SilverSoo_Chris on Twitter
New Discoveries
Months after the Commander's incursions in the Crystal Desert, he receives a request for aid in an expedition towards the uncharted Woodland Cascades. What he finds changes his life forever...
Artwork by t0l0k on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Spoilers: Guild Wars 2 storyline up to Living World Season 4 - Episode 2 - A Bug in the System
Original Publication Date: April 28, 2018
Word Count: ~16,000 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, loss of virginity, anal sex, oral sex, frotting, slight size difference, romance, consent, combat, ceremony
Artwork by DragonAsis on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Spoilers: Guild Wars 2 storyline up to Living World Season 4 - Episode 2 - A Bug in the System
Original Publication Date: November 28, 2018
Word Count: ~9,000 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, post-sex
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, oral sex, slight size difference, romance, consent, combat, ritual
Warm Reflections
Teaching his troll boyfriend how to read and write New Krytan, Lorenzo Frost is informed of an Awakened incursion south of Lake Adorea. Taking Zen'mafa with him, the duo head to clean up the mess Joko started.
Commanding Presence
[This story is a WIP]
Lorenzo revels in that new relationship feeling he shares with Zen'mafa. It helps him forget his hesitancy with commandership. Going too fast does have its disadvantages, however...
Artwork by DragonAsis on FurAffinity
Artwork by Rude Rubicante on Twitter, edits by me
Glowing like a Firefly
[This non-sexual story is a WIP]
— "Ya look betta wit'out dat helmet, 'Renzo."
— "Are you sure you're not just saying that to tie my hair more often?"
— "A lil', maybe, but I'd ratha see how beautiful yer face had grown ta be, mon."
Victory Prize
[This story is a WIP]
After every great duel is the alone time that comes with it. Though the two are terrifyingly nervous for tomorrow, Lorenzo doesn't let that show when he satisfies every desire his boyfriend could ever express. A prize fitting for a victor.
Artwork by OnionEyedGoat on FurAffinity
Artwork by DragonAsis on FurAffinity
Resonance
[This non-sexual story is a WIP]
— "Okay... I think I should be prepared to trigger the resonance crystals later. Zenny... are you okay with your position?"
— "Not yet, mon."
— "Well... what can I change?"
— "You be missin' sometin'."
— "What?"
— "A kiss."
Scale the Skies
[This story is a WIP]
Things change and people grow. Things come and go.Through thick and thin, some things flourish and show.Like Lorenzo and Zenny. They don't always take it slow, but their love for each other? They always know.With Aurene's ascension aglow, the two visit and seek an ancestor's hello.But most importantly, through dragonback and skies beneath and below, Lorenzo and Zenny celebrate and revel 'neath mistletoe.
Artwork by Franky on Twitter
Artwork by Scribey on Twitter
Spirit Weapon
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
Love Eternal
[This story is a WIP]
Mistwarden Fjorst Laursson, Herald of Aurene and Leader of the Crystal Bloom, loves Lorenzo. He can't deny the palpitations whenever his soulsight lingers upon the Commander. How they're both Champions of their Elder Dragon daughter, branded with her resonance. But Lorenzo had already found love—Zen'mafa fills him with joy. The norn wouldn't dare violate that sincere passion his best friend shares with the troll, but this what-if still yet tugs at his heart. Of what could've been and what this attraction means for him.And it tugs at Lorenzo's, too.
Artwork by DragonAsis on FurAffinity, edits by me
The Watcher of Caed Nua
Though busy with trying to save the world from either a madman or a rampaging colossus, this set of stories deal with the romantic pursuits the Watcher of Caed Nua undergoes during his off-time. These take place during the Pillars of Eternity games!
Chronology:
Parallax artwork by Scribey on Twitter
To Belong By You
After the Watcher's pursuits of the old man behind his transformation had come to a close, his closest companion, Hiravias, had inexplicably departed unannounced. Not wanting the orlan to leave without revealing his feelings for him, the Watcher eventually finds him alone far away, where they realize they had both kept their love for each other bottled up for so long.
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Spoilers: Ending of Pillars of Eternity 1
Original Publication Date: November 11, 2018
Word Count: ~650 words
Art Depicts Story?: No, occurs post-story
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, anal sex, romance, consent, size difference, dialogue only
Artwork by Bristol on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Spoilers: Ending of Pillars of Eternity 1
Original Publication Date: July 23, 2019
Word Count: ~2,000 words
Art Depicts Story?: Somewhat, as a flashback
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, anal sex, romance, consent, size difference, transformation, drug smoking
A Shift in Spirit
Assadin may be content with remaining Lord of Caed Nua following the events at Sun in Shadow, but Hiravias isn't. Wanting a taste of his mate's nomadic lifestyle, the Watcher joins the druid in his wanderlust, but it turns out there was a shift in spirit along the way.
The Coming Storm
Ondra's Mortar looms ahead. The Watcher may be leading his crew to a death march, but the fate of the world lies in a precarious balance. The day before, he calls for the company of Tekēhu to his quarters, hoping that his new boyfriend can ease his worries.
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Spoilers: Ending of Pillars of Eternity 1, most of Pillars of Eternity 2: Deadfire's main quest line, most of Tekēhu's player romance, a bit of the Beast of Winter DLC, and the ending of the Forgotten Sanctum DLC
Original Publication Date: July 23, 2019
Word Count: ~5,100 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, anal sex, oral sex, rimming, romance, consent, summoned water appendages
Anals of History
Whether it's confessing to their first best friend Osprey Lorendiel, to expressing their love to Ephram Wixwicket, or their warforged son experimenting with himself, this set of stories deal with the romantic trysts and escapades of Opus Loregit and their polycule as they explore the, *ahem*, anals of history. These take place in a Dungeons & Dragons setting.
Chronology:
[*Not Published, ❖Still WIP, ⚉Non-sexual]
Parallax artwork by thatmuttmarie on FurAffinity
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Original Publication Date: April 10, 2020
Word Count: ~13,600 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/nonbinary, gay partners, best friendship, romantic confession, platonic love, oral sex, anal sex, fingering, consent, armpit kink, dildo, grief
A Star to Guide Us
Opus Loregit is proud of their best friend graduating from Livingwood College. Osprey's studies and thesis lead him to opening the eye on a new deity. Yet, the thought of Osprey leaving terrifies Opus. He's done so much for them. Help them cope. Solve mysteries. What would they do without him? Could Opus ever tell him the feelings they built up over the year?
Cloud Nine
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
Artwork by me
Artwork by me
Do You a Fey-vor
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
Kingside Castle
[This story is not yet published]
Opus will revive him. They must. Tiamat's making landfall soon, and if they don't restore Magnum's soul before then... No, it's not productive to think about that. But Ephram is just the thing to ease their stress. Him and his cute, flustered reactions to anything romantic. Anything to distract the two gnomes from impending doom, especially if Opus can take any excuse to kiss their new boyfriend.
Artwork by me & thatBirdboi on Twitter
Publication Date: Soon™
Written During: May 2022 - November 2022
Word Count: ~6,200 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/nonbinary, gay partners, loss of virginity, learning of sex, frotting, romance, consent
Artwork by me & NightSorcerer on Twitter
Together, a Constellation
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
Play by Mail
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
Artwork by DragonAsis on FurAffinity, edits by me
Artwork by DragonAsis on FurAffinity, edits by me
The Way to Trick Your Brain
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
Engender
[This non-sexual story is not yet published]
Young adult Magnum never truly felt like he was a boy. His parent Opus always called him a boy, but most other constructs he knows aren't boys. Do other constructs get "heaty" like he does? Do they get jealous of boys made of flesh and bone because they can act on their "heatiness"? Magnum wants to be like other boys. He wants to explore his sexuality and play with himself; to feel something. When Opus learns of their warforged son's miraculous puberty, they knew they had to help him become comfortable with his own gender by building him a set of genitals.Later, the gnome artificer and their husband Ephram sit down with Magnum to have The Talk.
Artwork by MadnessDemon on FurAffinity
Publication Date: Soon™
Written During: September 2021 - April 2022
Word Count: ~12,500 words (~5,600 in ch.1, ~6,900 in ch.2)
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, during ch.1
Content Tags: Non-sexual, male/nonbinary (+1 male in ch.2), gender dysphoria, puberty of an artificial construct, building artificial genitals, gender euphoria, sex education talk
Artwork by lutnik on FurAffinity
Publication Date: Soon™
Written During: February 2022 - April 2022
Word Count: 1,337 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-fantasy
Content Tags: Male, solo, first time masturbation, fantasizing, romantic crush, size difference, warforged character
Experiment
[This story is not yet published]
Rufus... that gnome so easily invades Magnum's head. From his hirsute attractiveness to his wits and classroom smarts. From his stylish fashion sense to his charismatic allure. Rufus... that classmate occupies Magnum's dreams. Makes him heaty. Leaky. And now, finally with a penis of his own, he'll know how it truly feels to fantasize about a crush.
Euphoria
[This story is not yet published]
Though normally brave in the face of danger and a stalwart protector, Magnum's butterflies get the better of him when he confronts his crush Rufus. But when the sexy gnomish socialite agrees to work together on a class project, Magnum's nervousness is immediately quelled with wandering, lewd thoughts about spending time alone with the man of his dreams.
Artwork by me & GhostBro on FurAffinity
Publication Date: Soon™
Written During: April 2022 - June 2023
Word Count: ~2,800 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-fantasy
Content Tags: Male, solo, anal masturbation, fantasizing, romantic crush, dildo, size difference, warforged character
Anchored to Your Tide
Ever since they laid eyes on him, the charming, cocksure dwarf bard Ákos Kalnath was smitten with their crew's shipwright and boatswain, a hunky albeit grumpy dragonborn named Isnath. Throughout their adventures, the former scoundrel's flirtations and endearing solace led to the two's coupling and romantic engagement. This sea-themed set of stories takes place in a Dungeons & Dragons setting.
Chronology:
[*Not Published, ❖Still WIP]
Parallax artwork by me & Cyan
Claimed for His Hoard
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
Artwork by DragonAsis on FurAffinity, edits by me
Artwork by me & Cyan
Publication Date: Soon™
Written During: June 2022
Word Count: ~1,000 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/nonbinary, gay partners, anal sex, drunken sex, loss of anal virginity, size difference, romance, consent, dialogue only
For Your Saké
[This story is not yet published]
Celebrating the crew's success in retrieving cloudstone for the ship, Ákos and Isnath decide to partake in what all dwarves are wont to do—a drinking contest. Unfortunately for the grumpy dragonborn, he won't find himself outdrinking the "lightweight" dwarf this time.
Caught With Their Calzoncillos
[This story is not yet published]
Pent up from overwork and thinking he could sneak a quick break to "polish the anchor", Isnath snuck in his partner's cabin and discovered a guilty pleasure curiosity too great to ignore. Unluckily—or luckily depending on who you ask—said dwarf navigator needed to retrieve something there.
Artwork by me & Cyan
Publication Date: Soon™
Written During: September 2022 - October 2022
Word Count: ~1,500 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, pre-sex
Content Tags: Male/nonbinary, gay partners, getting caught masturbating, oral sex, musk/underwear kink, size difference, romance, consent
Artwork by taibhse on Twitter
My Anchor
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
Short Stories
Unlike the other series, these stories are all narratively self-contained and considerably shorter than the others. Many of these are simply dialogue exchanges.
Navigation (ordered from earliest to latest):
🔥Feeling of Love (D&D)
🩸Bloodstone Maintenance (GW2)
💔What He Longed For (GW2)
🛐Legend Worship (GW2)
💞A Night for The Three of Us (GW2)
💦Fappy Foryts (GW2)
💢A Sudden, Violent Squall (GW2)
📕Pages of a Storybook⚉ (GW1)
❄️Human-Charr Ceasefire (GW2)
🦁Took a Lycan To (D&D)
🏹Made up for Lost Time❖ (D&D)
[❖Still WIP, Series (abbreviated), ⚉Non-sexual]
Parallax artwork by ida on Twitter
Feeling of Love
After a chance reunion following tragic events, Shapes & Vine share a passionate night together, vowing to never lose each other again.
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Dungeons & Dragons campaign
Original Publication Date: August 29, 2018
Word Count: ~1,500 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/agender, gay partners, masculine intersex species, mutual loss of virginity, vaginal sex, tail sex, learning of sex, romance, consent, dialogue only
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 2
Original Publication Date: September 23, 2018
Word Count: ~2,000 words
Art Depicts Story?: No
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, face fucking, implied consent, undead, size difference
Bloodstone Maintenance
Primarily preserved via bloodstone and raised via necromancy, Fuars Bloodbreaker serves as Thanatologist Frasst's research subject. Using necromantic magic, Frasst is able to instill an urge in Fuars via the bloodstone battery that contains his spirit. The asura can use this to... ahem, conduct research.
What He Longed For
For Frust Mindweaver, grief is something he's dealt with for a while. He's accepted its presence. For Jalidi Tajamad, grief is something he hadn't experienced before. He didn't view it like his charr companion had. But perhaps he didn't need to. Perhaps he just longed to be with Frust. It's easy to cope with grief when you're preoccupied with giving him all he wants...
Artwork by Lacrimale on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 2
Original Publication Date: March 6, 2019
Word Count: ~300 words
Art Depicts Story?: No
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, anal sex, consent, coping, grief, partial romance
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 2
Original Publication Date: March 10, 2019
Word Count: ~1,300 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, questionable sexuality, implied consent, oral sex, hero worship, blind character, dialogue only
Legend Worship
After Fjorst Laursson left the apprenticeship of Havroun Weibe to pursue a greater destiny in the name of Raven, Kåre took up the mantle of becoming the latter's successor. When Fjorst visited the cool weathered Hoelbrak for a celebratory birthday moot, Kåre invited him to his cabin during the evening, showing the blind legend how much he's fantasized about for four years...
A Night for The Three of Us
After 11 years of searching for a mysterious panacea to cure his son, Hrím Bætaheill finally and permanently can return home to his two fiancés Birgir Vernansson and Alfonz Caldwell. With their son cured, the three men can find peace at their orphanage, and so they decide to celebrate it with talks of marriage and a night of catering to their every need...
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 2
Original Publication Date: March 12, 2019
Word Count: ~1,400 words
Art Depicts Story?: Somewhat, as a sexual fantasy
Content Tags: Male/male/male, gay partners, amputee character, anal sex, testicle worship, consent, threesome, size difference, romance, polyamorous relationship, married dads, fantasizing
Artwork by OnionEyedGoat on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 2
Original Publication Date: May 9, 2019
Word Count: ~1,600 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-fantasy
Content Tags: Male (female attraction), solo, masturbation, fantasizing, implied romance
Fappy Foryts
Foryts is a simple, stoic, homespun asura; a College dropout who later became a Lionguard Deputy. He likes to think he's in a relationship with a successful Black Lion Trading Company broker who could give him exactly what he wants. Despite this, he desires something more from her. Something that'll make him beg.
A Sudden, Violent Squall
The twin asura brothers Willi and Whaw find themselves taking shelter from a sudden snowstorm. Thanks to their warband's lost bounty, Willi gets to enact his dominance over his brother. While these trash asura do anything but follow rules, following through with their deals is something they never break.
Artwork by OnionEyedGoat on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 2
Original Publication Date: June 28, 2019
Word Count: ~3,100 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, transgender character, brotherly incest, vaginal sex, coerced consent, domination, breeding kink, excessive swearing
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 1
Spoilers: Aftermath of the Guild Wars 1 campaigns and expansions
Original Publication Date: October 27, 2019
Word Count: ~880 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes
Content Tags: Safe for work / non-sexual, male/male, gay partners, married couple, romance, dialogue only
Pages of a Storybook
Sigmund Frostenwelde is the kind of person that, despite saving Tyria multiple times from deadly powers, is easily prone to being an anxious wreck. So much so that he fled shortly after his wedding! Luckily, his husband discovered him hiding away in Lion's Arch, and the two have a much needed conversation.
An Orison of Hearth, Health, and Heated Sex
When the Heroes of Tyria Sigmund Frostenwelde and Hisham Yavas marry, many wonder if they're retiring from a life of adventuring. Perhaps, but first they need to calm down from an anxious day with an endearing name change ceremony and a passionate consummation of their marriage.
Prequel: Pages of a Storybook
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 1
Spoilers: Aftermath of the Guild Wars 1 campaigns and expansions
Original Publication Date: October 29, 2019
Word Count: 6,969 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, married couple, anal sex, oral sex, rimming, fingering, frotting, multiple orgasms, romance, consent, religious ceremony, strip-teasing
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Guild Wars 2
Original Publication Date: April 25, 2020
Word Count: ~6,800 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/male, gay partners, oral sex, handjob, consent, ex-lovers, best friendship, relationship talk
Human-Charr Ceasefire
For months Jalidi Tajamad had reflected on the relationship he had with his ex-lover Frust Mindweaver. And, by pure happenstance, when he comes across the charr mesmer at the cold lodges of Hoelbrak, he decides to pursue him and negotiate a ceasefire to this anxiety.
Prequel: What He Longed For
Took a Lycan To
Roscoe is simple. He hunts, he fucks, and he wanders. Taroo complicated that cycle. The halfling made him want to stick around and enjoy their company. To care more about them than just being a potential hookup. So after Roscoe rescues Taroo from a bloody kidnapping, the hunter sought to gift them a lovely get-well-soon flower. One that leads to him realizing he cares more about the halfling than he originally thought.
Artwork by me & Hatakerub on FurAffinity
Click for full image
Series: Dungeons & Dragons
Publication Date: July 2, 2023
Written During: June 2022 - May 2023
Word Count: 6,969 words
Art Depicts Story?: Yes, mid-sex
Content Tags: Male/constellimasc (male + demiguy + nonbinary), gay partners, best friendship, platonic "confession", platonic love, oral sex, deepthroating, anal sex, rimming, armpit kink, musk kink, multiple orgasms, size difference, lycanthropy, transformation mid-sex, domination, rough sex, slight cumflation, consent, anal cockwarming, injury recovery, himbo character
Artwork by DarkChibiShadow on FurAffinity
Made up for Lost Time
[This story is a WIP]
TBD
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Took a Lycan To
Artwork by me & Hatakerub on FurAffinity
Click for full image
A tall, hunky man strolled down a mundane corridor, reading aloud to himself the iron plates attached to each door he passed by.“261…” He said, inadvertently skipping the right side of the hall when it required a great deal of mental effort to read the numbers.He rounded the corner in this L-shaped building, his sandy skin and wild mane of blond hair briefly alit in the overhead lamp’s flicker this cloudy afternoon. Something caught his attention in 265’s doorplate—someone left their black woolen sock on the doorknob and the plate itself was rusting away with the numbers chipped off. He thought he heard some noise from within too and a shifting of the furniture.The man tapped on the door and spoke to its residents, “hey, you left your sock hanging. You want Roscoe to give it to you?”Sounds suddenly ceased. Roscoe thought they must’ve been scared by the abrupt and deep, gravelly voice reminding them to care for their laundry—happens often in the Guild surprisingly. He scratched his mussed, thick chin strap beard with pointy claws and moved on when he heard no reply.“Ah, 269, this is it!” Proud of himself for being able to read the numbers and find his destination, he noted two unique qualities of the door. Moss seemed to be untrimmed around the door’s frame, but more importantly, directly beneath the number plate was a burnt scorch mark in the shape of the word “nice.”Roscoe knocked, “Taroo! It’s Roscoe, he came to visit!”His ears twitched when he heard a muffled response within with keen clarity, “oi Roscoe, come in! Door’s not locked.”With an arm hid behind his back, he made sure to gently twist the doorknob and enter; he didn’t want to accidentally rip out a knob like last month. He was greeted with a room that’d be more appropriately fit for a woodlands cottage than for the dormitory building of a populous city-state’s most renowned and largest Guild. Plants potted in handwoven baskets lined and hung from moss-grown wooden walls, veiled by patterned, blue drapes that extended from corner to corner. Skid marks toward the door indicate the absence of a desk or a chest to store personal belongings. Rather, haphazardly strewn vests, bits of armor, stray weapons, and other such miscellaneous possessions littered the floor and walls. Across by the small dorm near the open-curtained window sat a shirtless dark-colored halfling in a comparatively ordinary bed, an unremarkable gray sheet blanketing their lap. Their azure sleeveless coat hung over the bed frame.The bed creaked when Taroo turned to look at their visitor, parting white-colored bangs from their deep brown hair. “G’Arvo mate! Today just got a bunch betta with you comin’ to visit.”“Roscoe’s gotcha somethin’, a lil present!”The halfling scratched the fur around their left arm, fluffing it out, “haha, for me? Been feeling pretty pampered lately.”After closing the door the tall, big-nosed man gave a friendly wink to his good friend barely just passing half his own height. “Gotta close your eyes! Friends said presents are better when it’s a surprise.”“Aww, you draggin’ your furry butt to visit’s a good enough present! But alriiight.”Roscoe placed his surprise on his companion’s lap and beamed with toothy delight, a fang slipping out with his smile. When Taroo felt for it, their trimmed clawed fingers examined the sides of a small, whitewashed wooden box. Licking their lips but enticed to continue inspecting the gift, they traced up to bumpy flower stems packed with dense hairs, then towards what they tagged as newly blossoming petals and an intricate cluster for its inflorescence. They bunched said lips, furrowed their eyebrows, and hummed in thought.“Oh Roscoe… didja get me dianthus flowers?”The human man gave a hearty laugh, “hah, nah! Roscoe wanted to get you more… uhh, ‘edible-whites!’”Taroo giggled and opened their eyes, realizing the true nature of the flora blooming in their hands. “Roscoe!” A big smile formed as one hand went to line their wide, pointy ear. Their low ponytail braid was missing a core accessory—before today’s gift, that is. “You got me a few edelweiss! Aww, you didn’t have to.”Using their claws to saw off a flower’s stalk, they snugly clip the white bloom behind their ear, their smile never fading. “Thanks mate, it’s a really lovely gift,” they said, shoving aside clutter atop their nightstand to make room for the new floral box. A few other gifts leaned against the drawers, other pristine and decorative flowers in similar baskets and pots. As they did so, they absentmindedly rubbed the cyan-glowing tattoo of edelweiss flowers on their right shoulder. “They’re my favorite—probs got it from Flower Dad, haha.”Though it was his first time in his good friend’s residence, Roscoe’s keen sense of smell picked up every green scent and every flowery note. It was a stark, but freshly welcome difference from the stale and musty smells that made up much of the Guild’s campus buildings. That bothered him—felt too civil. This room was a natural escape from the boring indoor duties that administration pitted Roscoe through. It reminded him of the stories and tales Taroo told of their hometown Gardenvale—a lush and vibrant forest. The toned visitor pulled over the room’s only chair of ramshackle make and sat by the halfling, comically shorter in comparison to their dorm’s standard furniture. He admired their masculine, stout, heavily furred chest and the person shameless to flaunt it.“Roscoe’s wondering how your wounds are healing. No more bandages?”Taroo’s tranquilly star-shaped irises stare back at their mate and attempt their best impression of flexing their arms. “Nope! Got ‘em off this morn!” Though firm and defined and eye candy to the feral man, a strain pulsed through the recovering muscles and they grimaced. They easily laughed it off, “haha, glad too, hate being tied to my bed! Healers’ said I’m defo good to return when my fratmates finish settin’ up their tourney for the city in a week or so.”Roscoe’s voice rarely went softer than his normal boisterous volume, but he looked down at his good friend with a relieved grin, appreciative of their tenacity to quickly bounce back after their grievous injuries sustained just over a week ago. “Roscoe’s really happy you’re healing. He remembers when you were kidnapped and Guildmates had to fight you when you were possessed by the evil Azurist.”“Yeah… But it’s thanks to you that my best friends an’ I continue to live! You helped rescue us, Roscoe. Hells, even Wayfarer feels indebted to you and the Guild—is why he wants to set up a tourney to pay it forward.”The edelweiss flower in their hair made them look cute. “Roscoe even licked a lot of your cuts and gashes so to not infect on the way back to town.”Taroo blushed, “I ain’t never knew that you did that.”An unusually cleaned hand wrapped around Taroo’s forearm fur, digging through the hair to find a recently mended scar beneath. “This one had a lot of blood,” Roscoe said, then groped his companion’s faintly bulky pec with his other, grimy hand and dug underneath the fur to find another stitched scar, “and this one was pretty deep under your hide. Roscoe’s saliva stopped it from getting worse though!”Blushing brightening from the forward and brazen fondling of their body, Taroo guessed the man’s clean hand came from a precaution of not wanting to dirty the flowers when arranging them in the box. The idle thought passed by as fast as it came. “And nobody had a bloody healin’ potion?” A smirk crossed their face.Roscoe struggled to remember, “oh, uhhh, Roscoe didn’t think to ask. Roscoe just wanted to make you less hurt while carrying you.”Rubbing their cosmos-lit trail map tattoo on their left shoulder this time, the halfling’s dark face glowed with a warm scarlet, pushing past the childhood scar slashing through their right eye. They must’ve been unconscious when Roscoe carried them for the long journey back from the wintry and unforgiving Summit of the Cerulean Ascent. “Heh, I’m lucky to have a cobber mate like ya, Roscoe.” They leaned closer to him with a whisper, as if protecting a scandalous offer from eavesdroppers, “hey, wanna sneak me out and go to the bathhouse t’night? Haven’t had a good soak in the nuddy in a while.”Their companion also leaned closer, taking two good sniffs. He lidded his eyes, “Roscoe likes a stinky halfling personally.”Another smirk crawled on their face as they tilted their head towards a clay pot of orange and thin azalea flowers, “ya sure you aren’t sniffin’ these spicy buds? Careful ya don’t get your tongue on ‘em—they’re a Dreamer gift so they’re deceptively toxic.”Also rare for the hunky man was his growing bashfulness with Taroo whenever they were alone together. He loved spending time with them whenever he could. They livened up his duty of deploying squads for hired bounties from the Guild. They made bets on who would have the best hunt on said bounties. They often caroused the city-state’s local taverns with him. Accompanied them in their nightly stargazing even though had absolutely zero idea what stars even were. Roscoe frequently found himself wandering the worlds, and though friendships were many made, many never stuck. And while he had a carefree and easygoing attitude about his nomadic travels, something changed when he started working for the Guild. When he met Taroo in this year-long contract (that he couldn’t read very well).And he should be flirting with them. He should be asking to bed them. Like with every other man and masculine person he found attractive. That was what he usually did. He wanted that carnal fling ever since he met them—but he was oddly shy. He was at a loss and he couldn’t comprehend why. Considering the halfling part of his pack, he felt like he had to be intricate with them. He couldn’t openly ask to kiss and fuck like the majority other men he’s bedded.But the man was still driven by his instincts and his desires in making said halfling feel cared and loved. A low, gravelly groan rumbled from this throat when he thought about the cosmic halfling’s proposal. “Hmmm, Roscoe would like to see you naked again… but Roscoe’s not sure…”Taroo raised their eyebrows and stretched their arms, one trying its best to reach around the taller man’s shoulder. Their mate’s uneasy demeanor was a clue he was having trouble contending with thoughts that drifted from his simplistic norm. “Huh, I’m kinda shocked Roscoe. Not up for gettin’ another stiffy in the bathhouse?”Roscoe blushed, never able to find a good reason to hide it, “stiffy? Hah, you saw Roscoe’s boner last time?”“I used to work at a bordello back in my hometown, I know a thing or two about how dicks move.” They entice a bigger blush when they ruffle his mane of hair and persuade him to lean closer so they could reach, “surprised ya didn’t ask for a shag—what did ya end up doin’ with it?”He found them sexy and bizarrely tensed to restrain himself. That night ended up being a haze beyond the warm waters, Taroo’s naked company, and the quick fuck he had at the nearby tavern when they parted ways. Though he didn’t know what a bordello was, he was curious about imagining Taroo in situations where they were regularly blessed with the pleasures of cock. “Ahh… Roscoe remembers only wolfing down cheap meats and getting drunk with a burly elf man. Roscoe was really pent up, hah…”“Had some action, huh,” Taroo winked, looking to close the curtains over the window. Shade casted over the two close friends. “Had to hide mine until I wanked one out here, heh. Figured I’d wait to fool around with my fratmates until, well, y’know…”Roscoe shivered, a reaction the shorter halfling enjoyed. The encroaching darkness forced him to rely on his ears and nose, making every word from his companion like a drooling otter hungry for its food and their unwashed musk permeating through the floral scent of the room. “Taroo fools with their fratmates?” He asked, trying to piece together a puzzle even he could solve. All of the halfling’s movements were accentuated from the glowing tattoos on their shoulders limned with the bond of their unique blue magic, flowing through the lines like a viscous liquid. Their star-shaped irises had a similar effect like a cat’s eyes in the night.When they scratched their own coarse beard, another hand tugged on the boring blanket keeping their legs warm. “Wayfarer, Dreamer, Victory… I bloody love those cunts.” A tiny beam of astral energy escaped one of their fingertips like a taut string, coiling around an elaborate ring of craftsmanship and materials worth probably more than the dorm combined. Four blue, miniature gems were inset along its outer rim, each corresponding to a separate engraved letter—W, D, V, and T. Roscoe observed these same first three letters carefully carved on Taroo’s stone sword near the tip of the blade. While the sword served as the halfling’s conduit to their blue magic and hosted a carved compendium of spiritual bonds to other creatures in the realm, these three letters were the largest and most prominent. Taroo manipulated the nebulaic string of magic to fling the ring towards the open palm of their hand and present it to Roscoe. “Victory’s a smart lad, he repurposed a whole separate dimensional realm to become our order house—I don’t understand it myself, but we can use our fraternity’s ring and teleport there once a full moon. Sometimes to strategize and train but mostly to relax.”They pull in Roscoe for a side hug, the derelict chair screeching when dragged, “and often times…? Relaxing can mean a good fuck. Or two. Or three.”The feral man’s rugged leathers and furs became suddenly uncomfortable to wear. His pants too tight.Like Roscoe with them, Taroo’s gaze fell to their companion’s crimson jagged brand marking his left arm, the faint, glowing icon of a roaring lion that signified a great curse that hexed him for all his known life. “So, Roscoe, I never really asked ‘fore but… ya got someone special in your life?”He didn’t understand. “Special? Roscoe dunno what you mean. Taroo is special! Like his pack.”“Don’t fancy yourself a boyfriend?” They sigh in contemplation and light up the nightstand’s candle, wax dripping to a textured, tree-bark coaster. The gentle flamelight licked their faces when they returned the ring to its resting spot. “You’re always regalin’ me with the cute boys and men you sleep with… but ya never seem to wanna keep any of ‘em.”Invited to relax on the bed with Taroo, Roscoe sat by the edge, where even though the dark halfling sat against the bedframe with a dull pillow for support, he still felt like he towered over them. He laughed softly, a sound he seldom made but one that pleased Taroo. “Roscoe doesn’t like those relationboats—relationships, or whatever people call them. Row-mance? Roscoe’s… only into that ‘casual hooks.’ He doesn’t really stick around places to be commissioned—or was it committed?”“Hmm, what do ya think ‘bout me then?” Taroo wondered aloud, “ya’ve known me for many months now and ya said once ‘fore I’m hotta than most peeps ya shagged, heh. Is not like ya to be shy around me.” A bright smile brightened the dim lighting as they habitually adjust their long braided ponytail, white hair fraying at the ends.Trying to ignore the heaviness in his chest, he held Taroo’s hand and clenched. “Roscoe’s really relieved Taroo didn’t die. He would’ve never forgiven himself if he let you. Because Roscoe really likes Taroo.” He clocked the cutesy, furry halfling tail swishing from the other side of the bed and his other hand wandered to stroke the white-half of its fur. “Roscoe doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable just cuz he thinks you’re hot and loving. Roscoe gets… uhhh, really horny about you sometimes and has to find someone to take care of it. Roscoe doesn’t even have to hide his true form with you because you trust him. Taroo is Roscoe’s packmate.”
An odd rush of release—like a boar’s weight lifted. It was perhaps Roscoe’s most heartfelt confession in memory and Taroo, while not the smartest themself, could plainly sense the emotion backing every word. They meant a lot to the nomadic traveling hunter, and the kind strong man suppressing his sometimes-overbearingly rowdy lust all to ensure the halfling’s comfort could only mean a massive amount of effort was put in preserving this beautiful friendship.“Heh, Roscoe…” They started, straining their recuperating legs to kneel atop the bedsheets. They still weren’t level to their mate’s face, but the man could certainly see Taroo’s slack, tousled undergarments. “Ya know that love doesn’t have to mean a committed romantic relationship. ‘Packmates’ can love each other too, just like how I love my fratmates.”Roscoe remembered another wound he licked clean on their now visible ankle. And another under the thick hairy foliage around their thigh. Their slightly chubby, rotund belly rounded their waist. “Roscoe doesn’t really know what that means...”“I really like ya too, Roscoe. You’re one of my closest mates and bein’ your packmate is a big joy in my life. Is that not love in its own way, just we ain’t solely committed to each other?” They stroke his bicep, feeling his ungroomed hair, “plus, I would relish our nude bodies entanglin’ every so often, to be frank…”“Like… sex?” The vocal fry in his voice quivered.The larger man slipped a moan when the skilled halfling shuffled themself underneath his golden-bushed armpit and pressed their nose deep in it to take a whiff of his musk, feeling up his tattered leathers. Like a forest dewed from the morning showers. “Mmm, ya smell real fresh from a hunt, Roscoe… When was the last time ya took care of your needs?”It’s been some time since a partner openly reveled in his scent of their own volition, and when Taroo’s nose rubbed against the fuzz, Roscoe’s throat purred. “…Not since before Roscoe and others hunted to rescue you. After the bathhouse.”A sneaky hand roamed Roscoe’s thigh, crawling towards a crotch quickly tightening through gray leather pants. “It’s not like ya to go several weeks without a tavern pick-me-up… But maybe this halflin’ could remedy that?”Roscoe wanted it, a want heightened by a circling palm on his bulge. Yet conflict threaded his heart. Never before in his life was he resistant to another’s advances. “Nffh, you’re still supposed to rest, Taroo. Roscoe doesn’t want to hurt you.”Taroo laid on his lap and stretched their arms to playfully claw at his chest. “I’ve been restin’ for a whole week an’ somethin’ extra; ya won’t hurt me, promise!”Instinctively Roscoe went to caress his companion’s thick belly and chest fur, a single claw twirling around the white tuft in the center as if he were enraptured by a stray cat. Another hand groomed their bedhead hair. Roscoe purred at the beautiful sight of their nipples hardening and the gentle sounds of their affectionate cooing. “Roscoe’s dick won’t hurt you…?” He wondered aloud to the halfling on his lap, their height barely half of the hunky man’s.“Nah, ‘course not,” they said, nuzzling their face against Roscoe’s own toned stomach in retaliation. They were pleased with themself upon feeling a twitch from his groin. “Victory and Wayfarer get their dicks pushin’ up my ass all the bloody damn time, heheh, sometimes simultaneously!” After lifting up his intentionally tattered simple undershirt, their hands scratched the wild golden-haired happy trail down the man’s waist as they leaned into his pets. A warm smile overtook them feeling up his muscles, “ever had a halflin’ give ya a gobby, Roscoe? We’re quite good at servicin’ our mates’ dicks.”“Years ago, yeah…” Roscoe moaned, his pets ceasing from the affection around his waist, “he… that halfling choked on Roscoe though. Rest of the bar was wonderin’ why someone was under Roscoe’s stool.” He remembered that barman pulled away before he could finish and the unsatisfied memories of being thoroughly blue-balled from a man half his height backing out last second. From that singular experience he didn’t place much faith in Taroo’s comment, and yet their tongue wandering on that same belly hair wanted him to think otherwise with sparse huffing and puffing.“That halflin’ isn’t as good as your packmate Taroo.” With eyes lidded, they continued, their tongue slick with saliva and a stray stand of hair, “what say you Roscoe, wanna blow off some steam? I oughta start showin’ my gratitude for your lovely gift somehow.”He clutched their braid and imagined what it would’ve felt like to be serviced by a packmate after so long. With a tense exhale dispersed on the halfling’s hair, “Roscoe really wants it, yeah… He was too shy to ask…”The nuzzling shifted towards his bulge and gave it a defined shape, mouth pressed against it. “Heheh, just relaaaax Roscoe. Yea, lemme show you how a halflin’ properly treats their best mates.” Wet lips and eager tongue dashed along the ridges of the creature, a hand tugging underneath to feel the heft of a tensing ballsack yearning to be free. Mmm, such a lovely scent, Taroo thought as they dragged their tongue topside and their hands detected zero undergarments shackling the hunky man’s crotch that could distract him from their teasing.Encouraged by his purrs Taroo spread their mouth around its tip, a warm air in the cool shade. They chuckled when the growing twitch hit the roof of their mouth through the leather. “Tell me, hot stuff,” they said as hands caressed thighs and their head rested against the package’s underside, “have ya been imagining yourself colorin’ new white stripes on my face an’ hair with your seed?”His balls being played with enticed the man to return the favor, his own hand scratching the fluff closer to his mate’s crotch and belly. Roscoe adored the attention he was receiving so much that the flirtation flew above his head. “Roscoe really wants Taroo to get a taste of him…”Sneakily using their position to unfasten the furs and unbuckle their mate’s belt, they rumbled their mouth before expertly yanking off Roscoe’s tightened leather pants. Taroo knew Roscoe had a keen knack for tailoring so they gently let it drop to his feet as the full glory of his package immediately welcomed and greeted them with dollops of precum splashing on their nose and the bridge of their brows. The musk of his taint hung thick in the air, where the halfling felt compelled to press their nose against it and bask in the raw scent of one of their favorite men. Delightfully poignant and primal—a stained sweat against the fuzz of his droopy sack that carried the smell of his visceral, animalistic hunts. They dragged their face against those nuts, Roscoe’s sweat and pre marking Taroo as his packmate with his enchanting odor and undivided desire.“Wanna cum deep down my throat lion man…?” Taroo moaned as their face nestled between the golden fur of his sack and the hardened prick that slapped against the scar of their left eye. Licking the drooling fluids and assaulting his dull pink foreskin with myriad kisses, the short blue mage shuffled their weight below the man and took in every sense they could, opening their body to the overwhelming rush of lust oozing from Roscoe. They fondled and kneaded his nuts and gave it every ounce of tender care that his nightly shags wouldn’t bother to. Something more than what the burly elf could offer. Something more than one-night stands the man revolved his needs around. “Mmmf… Roscoe, ya like how I play with your hairy balls? How I take in your primal scent?”“Yeah… a lot—nffh… Roscoe—does Roscoe taste good to Taroo?” His hands tensed as the halfling’s warm tongue, agile as ever, wrapped around his cockhead and delved in. “Fucck… So good…” He moaned, any insecurities he might’ve had about his packmate disliking the taste of his very essence evaporating along with it.Taroo wasted no time on getting to work sucking his thickening maleness and giving it the best treatment from all their sex worker and fraternity experience. They spared no technique laboring over his slick cock, ensuring to switch up angle and hand maneuvers whenever Roscoe even gave a hint of daring to adapt to the halfling’s expertise. Every fluid bead was snatched the moment it oozed, “fucck man, didn’t expect such a sweet taste…” They tugged on his foreskin, swirling their tongue inside to elicit wonderful huffs and moans, “heh, can’t believe ya locked this divine flavor from me all these months ya feral boy.”No drop wasted, the halfling was in paradise working to massage the biggest load this promiscuous man had perhaps ever gifted to another. They squeezed his balls like a professional masseuse working the body and fully swallowed Roscoe’s girthy length, allowing their throat’s confines to coerce new blissful throbs and twitches to catch. With their nose dug in his bushy happy trail, they themself were overloaded with the lingering traces of his sweat and woodland feral scent. It was something they wished they indulged in more with Wayfarer, who often found Taroo teasing him for trimming his excellent dwarven body hair in the name of nimbleness. Neither Victory nor Dreamer were this feral, and when Roscoe shoved his hand on the half-naked mage’s head to forcibly continue their deep throating, Taroo’s own star-shaped irises felt like they could transform into hearts when his coarse, grime-covered hand squeezed.Then his clean hand shivered and grabbed Taroo’s pointy, soft ear. He tugged on the chain-link earring and nearly triggered their gag reflex with the leaky tool filling their throat. Taroo’s breathing quickened—how could Roscoe find and push their buttons so quickly? It took a year to discover with Victory’s roughhousing and yet this toned muscular blood hunter used every instinct to find and tug on the halfling’s strings with ease. Taroo could hardly resist the temptation to fondle their own hardened rod.When one of Taroo’s fingers snaked underneath to prod a certain sweaty butthole, Roscoe gave in and didn’t allow them time to adjust when he roared and shoved his furry companion’s face to his root. His vocal fry cried with joy from the extra stimulation, “hhhnng, take all of Roscoe’s cum, fuuuckk!”Taroo knew how to give a killer blowjob, but they weren’t ready for the surge of pent-up lion seed flooding their gullet. Every virile stream sticking to their throat as Taroo was forced to swallow all of the lion man’s girthy cock. Any other halfling might’ve choked, but Taroo didn’t. Every pulse and throb in their mouth and every rope of raw cum and its silky texture ensorcelled the smaller packmate until they were eagerly sucking on a dry dick and inhaling the fresh sweat of a bush from a lion in heat. No pause for breath, only the thoughts of their salty meal and Roscoe’s mighty grip on their head dominated them.It took a bit for Taroo to realize Roscoe relinquished his hands and the distinct lack of cum spilling in their mouth. “Fuck… heh, sorry mate,” they wiped the white drool sticking to their beard while giving a wink, “didn’t suck ya dry, did I?”Roscoe was turned on by their cum breath and the sheen of saliva dripping from his own manhood. “Not enough for Roscoe to be done,” he growled as the lion’s strength lifted the cosmic halfling and pressed them against the bed’s mattress. His hands clutched furry wrists and his shadow loomed over, sides illuminated by the flickering rhythm of candlelit orange. A lion’s saliva made its splash on Taroo’s chest fur, both from their packmate’s dick and from his mouth, but the snarl baring through his fangs and teeth was what made them excited to receive the feral man’s fury. Recuperating from a near-death experience was the last thing on their mind.“Ya gonna bury that bone inside me then?” They said, matching Roscoe’s lustful aggression without a care to struggle against his hold, “smash me until you’re draining your balls inside—”Roscoe buried his face in Taroo’s mouth, probing his feline tongue inside and digging deep to taste his own cum. No care or consideration for comfort—he needed to kiss his packmate and that was the one thing he needed most right now. To growl in their mouth and make it rumble. To lick their teeth and thrust his thick tongue down their throat. An instinct to claim Taroo as his own—his pack—and he needed them to know how much he loved that small halfling. His claws rooted on the blue mage’s wrist as they moaned in joyful surprise. His softening dick grinded against the stain on Taroo’s shorts when he tilted his head for even deeper access to Taroo’s welcoming mouth.It wasn’t long before Taroo noticed that girthy manhood rising once more from their heavy mate pushing his weight on them. But when Roscoe left the kiss, they didn’t expect him to aggressively lick down their coarse and wooly chest fur down to their crotch. Roscoe’s blond mane stood on edge and his blue eyes sharpened as he stared in Taroo’s with every press against their groin, every lick to their clothed bulge, and every impulsive sniff on their tufted, musky balls woefully covered.“Grrr… Taroo better not cum until Roscoe fucks it out of them.” He growled.The kind of growl that Taroo knew.Roscoe was going to transform.And Taroo needed to feel a lion’s dick lodged deep in their asshole. “Then claim your packmate, werelion.”The werelion was no longer shy. No longer needing to restrain himself with his closest friend. And now he wants to make due on his fantasies. The times he imagined gripping Taroo’s fuzzy, thick ass and eating them out before thoroughly shoving his prideful cock deep in their asshole.He effortlessly pulled Taroo closer to him, smiled a glinting, toothy smirk, and flipped them over for a first-class view of halfling ass. Wasting no time, the larger man stuffed his nose in the shorts crack, inhaling all the musk and scent that radiated from his packmate’s being. He presses his nose further and further until he felt like he could stuff it inside their hole through the cloth, soliciting a pleased groan from Taroo with each lick and sniff.His claws grew. He moved his hands under the shorts, snatched the blue mage’s round, hairy cheeks, and felt their hirsute masculinity. Its chonky fullness. Its depth. Then he dug. Squeezed. Clutched. His growls deepened. His gruff moans rumbled through the shorter halfling with nothing but fuel to solidify their close bond.He tore them open. Shredded at the dark blue shorts until they were nothing but scraps by the bedside—an obstacle from his prize. Roscoe gave Taroo no time to react when he dove and stuck his tongue to lap at the sweat surrounding the halfling’s winking hole, fully ripping the waistband preventing him from digging his claws deep into their assfur.Fast, ferocious, and feral, tongue battled pucker until there wasn’t much left of the latter not blanketed in desperation. Taroo clenched their teeth when Roscoe burrowed his tongue inside and explored their carnal tunnel, “nffh… you’re makin’ it bloody difficult to hold back right now! F-Fuuuccck…”No one deeply rimmed that halfling as furious as the lion man. Not Victory. Not Dreamer. Not Wayfarer. Never a past client. No one made sure every inch of fleshy wall was lubed with lion spit like Roscoe. No one had as thick of a tongue as he did. A tongue as thick as a heavy battering ram before the full sieging onslaught.Taroo nearly came when Roscoe tugged on that brown tail jutting out just above their rear—another button push. They clenched tight and tensed just as hard as they were bracing a deadly assault weeks prior. It took every ounce of their strength to keep still the floodgates from their twitching dick.But Roscoe noticed their halfling jewels tighten beyond the drenched fur of their grundle and a predatory grin lit his face. He leaned over Taroo, pressed all his weight atop their robust back, and snarled in their sensitive, soft, pointy ears. His voice was possessive.“You’re gonna find out why Roscoe likes transformin’ mid-fuck.”
A pink cockhead from a girthy malehood pressed against an eager asshole, and with a swift motion, Roscoe thrusted inside. Taroo couldn’t arc their back nor moan as loud as they wanted—Roscoe was keeping their head stuffed against the pillow. And yet, that large dick moving and delving to the deepest nook of their halfling insides made them whine louder than when they were triply fucked by their fratmates.Instincts took over and Roscoe relished in how tight that dark mage felt around his dick. How their warm, inviting walls constricted before he pulled out and enacted on another heavy hump. He adored their groans, their whines for breath as his crimson brand pulsated and grew in its glow. How they tried to relax after his feeling his initial girth. How his drool glazed their shoulders and dimmed their lucent tattoos as he reached in to shag their mouth once again to claim every part of their body as his. How they shivered and bent in all the right directions to clench on his hungry, ravenous member. As if they forgot all their skill and experience and the only thing present on their mind was Roscoe’s tongue shoved down their throat and Roscoe’s cock threatening to bulge their sturdy belly.Then they felt it.The generous fur on Roscoe’s body growing and rubbing against their own back fuzz. His snout forming through the visceral growls. His bestial strength embracing them ever so tightly, proof they were the thing he loved most in that singular moment.His guttural need to roar.His dick hastily demanding more of Taroo’s insides as it burgeoned and expanded.Roscoe got lost in the overwhelming sensation when he roared and shed his human skin to expose the lycan underneath. “Grrrr—Roscoe’s gonna make you feel so fucking good!” He shouted.Loud echoes bounced from the wooden walls, resonating throughout the dorm. “He’s gonna fill you up with his cum ‘til you can’t move no more!”The werelion felt invincible as he engorged in his new favorite home meal, pushing hard and fast to bounce against Taroo’s hole while the small packmate’s breath hitched and their groans intensified. They yelled for him to go deeper. To fuck them harder. They wheezed at him for breaking their kiss.Not enough to be hilted. Not enough to have their tunnel struggle and stretch to accommodate the lionhood’s enlarging size with every wanton thrust. Not enough to be slammed and feel his sprouting lion tail flit and slap their sides. Raspy, Taroo attuned to Roscoe’s rhythm and moved in sync, shoving their ass against his base as he fucked with abandon. They felt the pressure to their prostate from the lion’s pride engulfing them with nothing but their bond, desire, and need to be embedded.It took an uncountable amount of time before Taroo felt a portion of their senses return. They immediately decided to spend it on accelerating that sandy werelion’s drive to overfill them. Their braid continuously became more entangled as they bent their head to reach Roscoe’s snout. Then, they mischievously smirked through the panting and rams to their asshole to bite him with a powerful halfling chomp—they knew that’ll get him fired up.More than they knew. Roscoe howled and the room filled with their scent, sweat, and sounds as his cock deposited a full lion’s worth of seed in the belly of his halfling mate. His trigger pulled, he let loose a lowly, debauched howl as copious virility strained and stretched the halfling’s gut. Their belly being overflown with his pride was enough to push them over the edge, and Taroo’s own cum was fucked out of them in explosive cascades of white comets across the room and bed. Orgasms overtaking them, Roscoe’s adrenaline fueled that bliss of hilting Taroo’s ass balls deep, jamming his claws around their pecs with each wave of pleasure rippling through their furs and throbs to their spilling members. The werelion’s breathy gasps for air and his instinctive need to howl overtook him and his conquering thrusts as the halfling’s ass muscles clenched hard on his hungry cock, Taroo’s moans and streaking cum further stoking his flame.Minutes felt like hours as Roscoe continued to embrace and clutch Taroo well after their orgasms eventually subsided, the bottom’s legs shivering from the weakness of keeping their knees locked in place. Roscoe might’ve been sated as his excessive seed leaked out of Taroo’s tight hole and on their ass and thighs, but he never intended to break that connection right after. He caught his breath and lovingly licked Taroo’s beard like a cat, purring in their ear. A cuddly lion.“Fuuuck… ya came so much in me, lion man. Hmph, and you’re not gonna pull out, huh?” Taroo chuckled, husky and low as they felt the aftershocks of their orgasm tingle throughout their dick, their voice thick with afterglowing bliss. Despite never being touched, it begged for someone to lap up its leaky white drool. Taroo’s chest heaved with one of Roscoe’s hands clutching the white tuft of fur.Roscoe’s other hand idly played with his mate’s slick and softening member, reminding him of his own snugged inside said mate, “mmm… not yet. You feel warm around Roscoe’s dick. He lost control when you bit him, heheh…” The werelion licked his fingers, tasting Taroo’s release slathered on them. The pink coloring his snout brightened. “Mmm… best salty taste in a while…”The halfling blue mage reciprocated that blush for a moment before remembering their recovering injuries. The soreness rushed them all at once and they winced. Not from the lionhood splitting their insides or the abundance of cum stuffing their belly, but from the cuts and gashes probably reopened from Roscoe’s roughhousing.But Roscoe’s tender body was warm enough for those worries to dullen. That and his playful caresses and touches and cheeky kisses on their lips. And the overwhelming scent of sex permeating their room keeping them both in their post-orgasmic daze. Roscoe’s squeeze over Taroo’s filled belly sloshed the lion fluids inside. “Hah, shit… might’ve lied when I promised I could take ya like this, Roscoe.”The lycanthrope shuffled his weight to spoon Taroo on their sides, his still-stiff member moving inside the cosmic halfling’s body along with. Another dollop of seed dripped on the bedsheets. “Roscoe’ll help you however long you need to get better.” He starts licking tiny cuts where his claws gripped their wrists and pecs too tightly. He felt free, never needing to constrain himself again with his closest friend—their bonds forged and fucked.In turn, the shortest of the pair felt free and relieved to let themself loose in the presence of their best mate. They didn’t feel that sense of self-consciousness from going overboard with their unbridled lust, like the beginning of their platonic intimacy with their fratmates. Roscoe would only revel in that, they imagined, if anything today was an indicator.Taroo panted through a soft smile from the sensations of the lion’s tongue grooming them, faintly remembering that selfsame tongue prodding their prostate just a few dozen minutes earlier. “Stoked to be ya packmate, Roscoe.” With a hoarse voice they pat their sweat- and cum-crusted belly fur—the solidified ritual of being inducted into the wild lover’s pack. Of now two. “We oughta have more fun like this. Bet the fratmates would be psyched to have their asses wrecked by werelion dick, hah.”“Huff… and I bet Victory would kill for a man as fuckin’ feral as you. He’d use all his fun toys with ya.”“Mmm, Roscoe ain’t had a good orgy in a while.” He instead imagined all four of the fraternity taking turns breeding his own ass. The shorter, wincing mate felt a twitch in their anus.“But first,” Taroo said, massaging their rear cheeks as they turned to face and cuddle with their best friend with his cock still firmly housed within. A milky leak escaped their hole to drench his blonde fuzzy balls as the halfling trailed a clawed finger down his sun-weathered, beastly, hunky chest. They’re one of the only people Roscoe felt vulnerable to share his poorly-kept secret of his bizarre type of lycanthropy. And even if the halfling generally only witnessed its glory in battle, its presence here was a welcome intimacy. Especially if his untamed ferocity was mostly the same. They reminded themself of the edelweiss flower Roscoe gifted them, barely clipped in their hair and snug against his protective embrace.“Ya did kinda shred apart my last pair of shorts,” Taroo continued, squeezing their anal muscles to tease the werelion, “mind if ya help me with that?”Roscoe’s growled laugh and rumbly purrs rippled throughout the halfling packmate in his arms. Their insides felt so warm and wet. “Taroo can borrow Roscoe’s pants, ahah.”“Oi, Roscoe,” Taroo said, “then you won’t have anything to wear.”
Human-Charr Ceasefire
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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“Outer gold ring. I think that’s nine points, yeah?”The norn around Jalidi scrutinized him. “By Bear’s hairy ass,” one said, “who would’ve thought a human could be quicker on the draw than Igor!”Jalidi turned to his rival, a norn with black, shaggy hair, a scuffed nose, and a height that nearly doubled his. He saw the norn forcibly keeping a stoic, unflinching face. His pride was on the line, and a human was threatening it. “I’m at thirty-six points. If you were to match my last shot, I’d need a perfect ten to best you.”He planted his winged longbow on the oaken balcony of the Traveler’s Loft and leaned on the magnificent antlers of his animal companion. Sturdy, Wahid’s earthly antlers and stony form shifted to support his weight. Though wordless, the rock gazelle cheered on his master, nuzzling against Jalidi’s viridian and brown coattails. “Think you’re up for the challenge?” The dark-skinned ranger said with a goading grin.Furrowing his eyebrows, cracking his neck, and taking yet another gulp of stale Highlander from his fourth stein, Igor swiped his rickety bow and nocked an arrow. Over a dozen spectators were interested in this competition on the second floor of the Great Lodge. Whether it be for a rowdy respite from the chill winters that permeate the Shiverpeaks or a celebration for as many or as little reasons, many travelers far and wide came to sample norn hospitality, their ale, and their drive to outdo each other. So when a human intends to stay just for a few hours and brings his foreign pet from the desert, it’s only natural he gathers the attention of curious folk.Igor’s arrow strikes the outer gold ring of the target on the other end of the balcony. Nine points. Chatter erupts from the crowd as folks feel reassured of their bets. Clearly they haven’t heard of Jalidi Tajamad.“Hope you’re ready to fork over the coin for my next month’s supply of Highlander, friend.” Confident of his performance, the norn enunciated the last word, hoping to demoralize the ranger.The ranger fastened the green headband and beads he wore. With a glint in his eye and a sheen to his composure, he gave a last loving scratch to Wahid’s chin and drew the steel longbow he called his for half his life. Although worn and torn from over a decade of use, the huntsman knew no other piece of equipment that’s been with him through every trial and every tribulation. And it’ll make it through this trial too. He first lined the white winged protrusions of the standard Seraph longbow that built its tips, a typical make of the guardsmen’s weaponry he knew and grew up with on his mother’s estate back in Divinity’s Reach. Then, he cocked his head and drowned the murmurs enveloping the crowds beyond the balcony and the crackling flames of the distant ovens and hearths.He took a deep breath and retrieved a feathered arrow from the barrel next to him. This was his last shot. Fire on three, he thought to himself.One.Two.Wait… Was that a charr amongst the crowd? A black-furred, white-patterned lanky feline with a formfitting orange and white outfit?Frust?! Was he really here?“Aaaand that’s a miss!” Spectators explode in cheer. “Victory goes to Igor Mjaldesson!”Frust, Jalidi frantically thought to himself, if you’re reading me, where in the Mists are you? Are you here? In Hoelbrak? He wasn’t sure if his old partner was establishing a telepathic link, and after taking another cursory glance of the crowd, he couldn’t find the mesmer he knew so well.A meaty, sweaty hand clapped his shoulder accompanied by a boisterous laughter that stunk of piss-poor beer. “Ha! Looks like the hunter got caught in his own trap!”Jalidi calmed himself down and swirled his wrists, but still his eyes scanned and searched to examine every charr silhouette he could spot in the massive Great Lodge of the norn, distracted. An older woman with a furred mantle called for a second round, and Igor gave a devious smile as he looked down towards the human half his height. “What say you? Next time you lose I’ll have a crack at that deer of yours next morn!”The ranger gave a quick Krytan bow, poised with practiced dignity reminiscent of the nobility he grew up with. “I’m afraid I must decline, Igor,” he started, immediately noticing the norn’s drooping disappointment, “your arrows flew sharp and steady, and it was an honor to experience your legend firsthand. But I’ve overstayed my welcome and must continue my journey westward.” He swiftly procured a sack of gold and tossed it to the norn before him without care of counting it.Then, with a nod, Jalidi bit his lip inquisitively, rallied his gazelle companion, and shifted focus. He needed to find Frust. He knew those tight clothes anywhere—no one quite had the peculiar fashion sense as he did. He had to have been here.Jalidi was a tracker. He had a keen eye for adventure, and that eye lead to a developed sense of intuition. The dark-skinned ranger approached a lonesome seated charr some ways away. Her feet were propped up atop the low table as she shifted uncomfortably in the furred chair to the human’s approach. Jalidi might’ve had an adventuring eye, but this charr had a stink eye. Her curled horns occupied half the mass of her head as her short, black, greasy hair added a shine to her glare. Despite the relaxed nature of her shore leave, she still wore rough chain mail stained with uncleaned blood. “What does a freebooting mouse want with me?” Her gruff voice broke the static of the background noise of the massive hearth hall.“I know you saw the gladium.” A bluff, but his charisma spoke as if it were truth.She narrowed her eyes, gauging whether she should respond. Spitting on the floorboards beneath her, she turned her head back towards the fireplace near her, “ain’t my place to talk about the low rungs.”A sack of coin dropped on the table, of which Jalidi leans on with an arm, blocking her view of the roaring fires. Rash and expensive, but the most direct route. “I appreciate your time.”As he began to walk away, the charr made a quick remark, “left as soon as you lost, mouse. Looked afraid. You killed his warband or somethin’?”The dark-skinned ranger laughed. “No. The opposite.”“Burning cavorters.” He overheard as he was leaving. It baffled him that some charr could still hold the perspective of human and charr relations being infeasible. But, he above all should know that alliances aren’t forged in a day.Cold winds of Hoelbrak pierced through the huntsman’s viridian and brown leather coat as he ventured through the traveled plaza outside. Blankets of snow battered against the warm homesteads and lodges of the largest norn settlement, the lively stalls and markets huddled around the warmth of strategically placed bonfires. While norn find this of comfortable temperature and enjoy soaking their bare flesh with the chill of the Shiverpeaks, Jalidi had no such physiology.Some footprints were sprawled fresh amongst the snow-covered walkways. They were wide imprints with evidence of claws, rather than heavy boots. Norn love to leave their mark on everything, leaving trails of heavy footprints as indicators of their “legend.” These, however, were light and swift. They were in a hurry, and the veil of the light snowfall would have almost covered their step were it not for the quick investigation of the huntsman.They lead northwestward, beyond the flowered, wood-slatted overpass and tall bridge near the frozen Lake Mourn. Upon bending down and examining a disturbed pink leaf overlaying a recent charr footprint, the tracker felt he was close to the tail of his prey. There must have been cherry tree leaves lingering on him. Why is he so afraid? Approaching the dark wood structure of the Biergarten, its red-tapestried pergola invited any sober norn for a night of keg brawl and ale haul with its massive arches and gallons upon gallons of beer dispensaries.Jalidi wasn’t interested in sinking time into getting drunk. He was more interested in the conspicuous charr hiding behind the masses of big norn splashing themselves with alcohol, just behind icy cover provided by the snowy cliff. The ranger waylaid the slightly shivering charr, blindfolded and high-strung. His white hair, tips dyed with pink, camouflaged the disparate and ruffled cherry tree leaves on his snow-draped orange scarf.“Frust… please, talk to me. I’m… worried.” His face was solemn, his closest friend avoiding him for eight months made him reflect upon things. What happened eight months ago. How they met. When the charr responded with only a look away from his voice, the human continued, “this isn’t like you, Frust. You could have sensed me tracking you down; you allowed me to pursue you intentionally… why?” The charr was a mesmer—a chronomancer. He could sense alternate timelines when blindfolded and use that crucial info to aid allies in battle. He could have easily sensed the tracker’s tracks and act against it should he wished.The tall and lanky charr, covered in rugged, snow-worn wear, exposed his bright pink eyes. They were puffy and red. He was crying earlier. “I’m s-sorry, Jelly.” He slumped down, sitting on the cold snow.Jalidi hadn’t heard that pet name in a while. He kneeled on a knee and dismissed Wahid, telling the ignorant rock gazelle to find their old friend’s homestead nearby who would take care of him for a few hours. Crouching next to Frust, the ranger reminded himself of his scrawny, yet tall physique. He noticed he hasn’t been filing his claws. “It’s okay,” he said, “I’m… sorry that I caused you this much pain.” Placing a hand on the charr’s shoulders, the dark-skinned tracker cleared the snow and leaves making their home there.“You and I and Fjorst and Lorenzo and his guild were all there at the Vehtendi Arena. Your mesmer comms were the key part of setting up Lorenzo to kill Balthazar. I’m so thankful you came with us.” He took a deep breath, focusing on the anxious charr who kept his gaze averted. “I forgive you, Frust. I still care about you a lot.”“But… I-I turned you down, Jelly.”The human smiled, “it’s okay. I think I was a bit rash, honestly. I probably shouldn’t have proposed when we were only dating for seven-ish months.” He sighed, somewhat in regret, “and… when we were still relatively fresh from Galam’s…”Frust pulled in the human for a hug, throwing his ex-boyfriend off balance for a second and interrupting his thought. Despite everything, Frust knew that he wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Jalidi rescuing him from the krait Deep that experimented on him and his warband several years ago. He wouldn’t know how to cope from the slithery snake-folk torturing and killing his warband were it not for Jalidi. He knew that he wouldn’t have a family—a chosen family—were it not for Jalidi taking him and Galam for treasure hunting treks and taking them to the Maguuma Wastes and aiding the Pact in felling the Elder Dragon Mordremoth. He knew that he wouldn’t have understood that romantic love meant more than one-night stands with the hottest man he saw at a bar every week were it not for the Elonian ranger in his embrace. It felt good to finally smell his braided hair again after so long.“I-I was afraid you’d send the Ash legion to find me.”“Never,” he said softly, “their spies would never find you anyway.” Breaking from the hug and, although the immediate reapplication of the evening’s howling winds wanted him to return to embracing the furry charr, the hunter continued, “what brought you to Hoelbrak?”“Umm…” Frust begun to speak, but, like his breath, his words froze when they left his mouth and shattered upon hitting the ground. “I… heard about the Commander’s new boyfriend.”“Zen’mafa? I don’t think his kind frequent the Shiverpeaks. He’s a unique kind of troll.”“N-No. I mean, um, I just felt like…” He looked away in embarrassment, perhaps because the topic felt taboo once they broke up. “I needed a big man who could coddle me in his bed and made sure I couldn’t… walk in the morning.” He tried to cover his cheeks flaring with red, but Jalidi wasn’t fooled. His language wasn’t this flowery.“You wanted to get fucked by a norn?”“Aughh, burn me! Sorry…”“What? Why?”Frust shifted uncomfortably in the snow, “I just… well, I-I figured that talking about this sorta thing would… remind you of what I did...”A deep breath. “I still care about you, Frust. I forgave you eight months ago. I realize that… you’re not the type of man to get tied down. I’m sorry I misread our relationship… it was a tough time for both of us and we both went really fast.” The ranger scratched an itch behind his ear, a tic he felt when he was regretful. He added onto his confession with a muttered addendum, “I had thought a ring might’ve been detached from the charr culture you despise so much that… maybe it would have been okay.” To the militaristic felines, marriage is nonexistent. They pick a mate, sire cubs to be later schooled at their fahrar families, and then part ways. A wave of memories washed over him, thinking of what ring to propose with, what to engrave on it, and what meaning he wanted to convey. It was meant to remind them both of their spelunking days. That ring is long gone—thrown in a river and perhaps now kept in a hoarding skritt’s shiny collection.“You don’t hate me?”“I couldn’t, even if I tried. You mean almost too much to me.”“Jelly…” Tears formed and soaked his black and white patterned fur, coughing up a fur ball of anxiety and remorse that he welled up for months. Jalidi sat next to him, stroking his shoulder and arm to keep his coarse fur warm with his bundled gloves. The cold was quiet. “T-Thanks, Jelly. I-I was scared when I saw you in the Loft. I even sensed that you’d lose to that guy and… th-thought that you’d be irritated if you chased me.”“Costed me 10 gold to fund his ale addiction, but that’s fine. I have to ask, though…” He said, eyeing the disheveled mesmer next to him. “It doesn’t seem like you got thoroughly fucked like you wanted.” Jalidi enjoyed the risqué humor and demeanor his ex-partner usually displayed. He wanted to encourage that back.Slouching his shoulders, the colorful charr shook his head, dejected. “The one I was after rejected me…”“What happened?”His muzzle twitched, flashing his tiny, underdeveloped teeth that formed a showy frown, “umm, I… misjudged him. Straight man. Couldn’t convince him to grab my fur and ravage me like he roleplays with his girlfriend. Fuck, that bulge was enormous, Jelly.”The green ranger almost laughed. It was good to hear him venting about shallow things like this again. “I’m sorry he was an asshole, Frust.” It felt relieving to free himself from the restraints of a diplomatic charismatic face in the presence of the charr. Like old times. He couldn’t help but smirk when he saw his past lover return to his old self again, his sorrow and careworn expression melting like the snow.“You might’ve meant ‘sorry he didn’t plow your asshole, Frust.’”“Heh, I suppose so.” Accustomed to the snow, Jalidi attempted to relax against the cliff wall alcove the two found themselves in. The charr followed suit, and snaked a hand underneath Jalidi’s, grasping it tightly and playfully scratching his palm with his claws. They were rougher than what the human remembered, but this sort of returning affection made him suddenly uncertain with how to feel about everything.“I… Frust. I need to tell you something.”Immediately, the mesmer jumped in with a scoffing retort. “What?! You’re dating another man?!” Frust feigned shock, but with tones of jest coating it.“Holy shit. H-How…?”“Saw that coming from another timeline.”“No, you didn’t, you prick, you weren’t using your chronomagic!”“If you doubt me, then punish me with your dick.”Jalidi edged closer to the mesmer, who returned with a look of lidded eyes and a goading grin, replicating the tracker’s smile from earlier in the evening. “I’m not dating him…! Not… yet.”“You haven’t told him. Just tell him you wanna suck his cock. He’ll get the message.”The agile human prided himself in reading body language, but now he’s seeing the full extent of his prowess from his ex. “It’s… it’s difficult! And I don’t want to tell him that!”
“You confessed to me just fine.”“Hey, I was inspired when we forged Eclipse together thanks to Xeniph.” He procured a crescent-shaped shard of crystal brimming with violet-colored magic from a pouch on his waist. “I kept it safe, you know…”“I’m glad.”“Your sarcasm’s hard to filter at times, Frust.”“N-No, I mean… I’m really glad.” The charr smiled as he wiped his muzzle of a stray tear, undoing orange wraps around his arm to bring Jalidi closer and hug him abreast. “Sorry. I was afraid you’d discard it because… well, of us splitting apart…” They recalled happy memories of meeting a timely disconnected ghost named Xeniph in the Ascalonian stronghold of Ebonhawke, where they both managed to convince her that the charr and human could coexist, and that times have moved on towards peace between the two previously warring races. That love could blossom between them both. Ironically, her acceptance of this future of Tyria before her moving on convinced the two to start dating. The peculiarly dressed mesmer snugged at the crystal, “does it still look the same?”With lips pursed, Jalidi slid the crystals around the crescent shard to slide in place, transforming its jagged shape to a smooth surface. The violet magic flared from the shard, slowly manifesting into a brilliant greatsword with an intricate blade. Sigils of the moon lined its front, balancing to an eclipse, and two ribbons were tied to its hilt, draping underneath with a gorgeous gradient of black, purple, and indigo with texture akin to the cosmos. It hummed a celestial note that the two were attuned to, drowning out the sounds of rowdy beer-drinking in the background.After a minute of admiring its magical beauty, Frust teasingly elbowed the human. “His dick big as this?”Tonal whiplash jarring him, the huntsman responded, “you… think I want to date an ogre?” The Eclipse greatsword reverted to its crystalline shard and dropped to the snow.Frust smugly shrugged, “dunno. Commander’s dating a troll. Nothing wrong with that, of course.”“My dad nudged me to flirt with Lorenzo, you know.”“You want to fuck the Commander?”Jalidi blushed, but he rapidly denied it. “I don’t—it’s not Lorenzo! My dad just believed he was a good fit for me. Came to him for advice while I visited his estate in Amnoon.”“You two would look good though. That helmet makes him hot. If he ever breaks up with the troll, maybe you can smooch up to him. You’re both guild leaders.” He daydreamed about the Commander “commanding” him to bend over and strip nude. “Ever imagine him taking off his helmet and wiping the sweat off his hair? Mmmh.”The ranger, on the other hand, had a face that only grew redder. A cute contrast from his dark face. “It’s… Tushar.”“Seriously, Jelly? Him? What’s so special about that Priory nerd?” The charr was engaged and admittedly turned on from seeing his ex-lover flustered when it came to topics like this. He easily dropped that noble rhetoric when he pushed his buttons.Burying his face in his hands, Jalidi was glad nobody cared enough to check in on what the two were doing in this tiny alcove. “L-Look, he was the one that helped me research and get in contact with the largos that helped me free you from the witch Ezsasze all those years ago. He’s my main contact with the Priory and aided with all the research we needed for our spelunking and the history behind human-charr relations, which helped immensely with retrieving the Claw of Khan-Ur with Dougal. Plus, most recently we ventured together in Derelict Delve to—”“It’s just the glasses, Jelly. You’re into glasses. If I illusioned glasses on me you’d have a burning hard-on right now.”“Gah.” He dared not look at Frust. He knew exactly how right he was and didn’t want to admit it.“Dude, you’re actually getting hard right now.” The charr laughed and came closer, wrapping an arm around the incredibly humiliated human. “C’mon Jelly, tell me, you fantasizing about topping him or riding his fat cock atop a bookcase or something?”He hated being turned on from his teasing. “How’d I ever fall in love with you Frust.”The charr slowly and experimentally slid a claw on his ex-partner’s thigh, gauging his reaction, “probably after I fell for you.” He rested his head on Jalidi’s shoulder, bits of light snow knocking over and with his trimmed and considerably short horns nestling perfectly. Serious and staring at the nondescript icy cliff wall a few paces in front of them, he continued. “I… still love you, Jelly. A part of me always did. I was scared you’d hate me if I told you that.”The dark-skinned ranger accepted the embrace and nestled his head against Frust’s. “Never,” he said softly, hugging him tightly, “I’m sorry I rushed things.”They spent a minute enjoying each other’s company. “You and Tush would make a good couple. I can see it.” Frust said with a crack, “he dyes his hair like I do, after all. And he’s chubby. Chubby guys are always attractive.”Jalidi gave the mesmer loving scritches behind his right ears. “…Both, by the way.”He almost purred, all four ears flaring up, “oh?”The huntsman missed this kind of talk. When he saw Frust in the Crystal Desert before everything went down with Balthazar, he had hoped he could reunite with him, apologize for everything. Invite him back to the guild. Return to the banter and bond only them two shared. “You know I never had the chance to—”“I still don’t top, Jelly. Your dick’s wonderful enough in my anus, though.”Frust’s teasing intoxicated him. It sparked a flame. “Ugh, I meant that… you know what? Forget it.” Jalidi broke the promiscuous cuddle and began to get up, brushing off residual snow.“C’mon dude, you really gonna leave your boner unattended?” He winked, spreading his legs to be as comfortable in the snow.“W-Wha?”The charr prodded at Jalidi’s crotch with a light touch, provoking a twitch. “Your boner. You’re thinking of Tush on top, pushing his weight against your muscles. His cock stuffed in your ass. I’m right, aren’t I?”He couldn’t have expected the day to result in something this lewd. “Frust…! W-We’re fifty feet from the Biergarten!” He saw the tent Frust was pitching—that he was hoping Jalidi’d notice. Half the reason he wore tight caramel-colored pants was so his nights’ mate would inspect his package with their personal touch. Salivate at the thought of groping it.“Psssh,” the lanky charr mocked, “did you forget I’m a mesmer?” Frust finger snapped in the direction of the opening to their private alcove, and suddenly a faint, pink shimmer manifested like a barrier. Jalidi still heard the sounds of drunken conversation and keg brawling, but unexpectedly it appeared as if the entirety of the brewery pergola was devoid of life. Invisible, maybe. The effect must’ve worked from both sides. Devious, the mesmer stood up. His height easily trumped many charr, but his weight was almost waifish in comparison. Despite this, he leaned on a sexually confused Jalidi, ushering him to back up against the icy wall on the other side of the alcove and made contact with their lower halves. He placed a claw on the ice behind him and grinned. “You still like it when I come at you like a dom, Jelly?” He said with his best husky impression. It was horrible.For the first time in memory, Jalidi had no idea what to do or how to react to his ex-lover’s shenanigans. He stuttered, a cold sweat damping his headband.“Cat must’ve gotten your tongue, huh.” Frust said, smiling too much at his own pun, “I really must thank you for assuaging my anxiety.”“Frust…”The charr leaned his face closer to Jalidi’s, sniffing the odd mixture of his hesitation and arousal. “Yeah?”“I… I don’t know… about this.”Angling his gaze slightly downward, the chronomancer continued after a minute of formulating a response, “I don’t like relationships. I’m sorry we figured that out the hard way.” He placed both his hands on the human’s shoulders, “but I still love you, Jelly. And it’s not just because of the sex, either. I really love you, and… not in that romantic way we thought. I want you to hook up with Tush. Maybe you’ll do better than the shit I pulled.” He sighed, feeling strange about reflecting on himself.Jalidi exhaled. He was holding his breath not unlike being nervous about an uncertain shot.“My love’s that weird shit. A special bond with his best friend. Sucking him off when he’s down. Be his wingman for his crush. And hey! Who knows?” He nudged him with a wink, “get spit roasted by him and his future new boyfriend at the back of a Priory archive.”The tracker felt vulnerable, warmer. Was this really the relationship they were trying to figure out for so long? The ultimate culmination in their exploration of each other for years? He felt his nose nuzzled by his ex-boyfriend’s snout. It was soft, and it reminded them of their lovemaking months prior.“I’m so fucking horny, Jelly. Can we make out? Please?”And the even stranger bit: Frust asked before diving in. He never did that after they started dating. Jalidi’s consent meant so much to Frust, and the ranger felt reaffirmed in their renewed bond. He felt the vigor and solidified trust from his best friend. He was glad to have him back—to have found him in Hoelbrak—to have mustered the bravery to talk and not flee—to hear his pet name again.He was no longer hesitant, and a craving to give his closest confidant the saliva he begged for rose to his cheeks. “Less talking and more tongue, kitty.” Their mouths met and their tongues waged a war that seemed to have lasted longer than the human-charr conflict. The hunter licked the mesmer’s smooth, rounded, cub-like teeth, the antithesis of charr ferocity, and yet, it was endearing and sensual. He didn’t taste like another man’s mouth—it was his own saliva, and when Jalidi had a taste of that blast of bittersweet drool, he melted into that wet, sloppy kiss.No matter the man he shagged after a night of drinks and risqué flirting, Frust never found another who could explore him as voluptuously erotic as the human hunter. The way he maneuvered his tongue, grabbed his hair with the right amount of graceful force, and lined the rim of each filed horn with the delicate touch of his finger… nothing matched up to the prowess and charisma Jalidi possessed. Not even close.He begged for his hunter to mark his quarry. Secure the kill. “Bite me, bite me and call me yours.”The dark-skinned guild leader grasped that weary scarf of his partner and rubbed its traveled texture, loosening it from his white and orange turtleneck. Exposed, Jalidi brought himself closer to his neck, trailing his partner’s coarse, white-striped black fur with his nose and lips. When he did eventually bite, a rush of adrenaline kicked in, the mesmer moaning with an exhilarating purr of pleasure and pain. With every following suckle on Frust’s flesh he felt his human partner tearing at it with pent-up passion, pausing briefly only to spit out remnants of bristly fur. It caused the horny charr to claw at his sides and groan for more. They dug into each other.
His untrimmed claws puncturing through Jalidi’s coat caused him to grit his teeth, biting deeper and sending electric shivers coursing through the charr’s form. A shiver not unlike the chill of the Shiverpeaks, yet more sensational and exciting. He rumbled, a resonating moan the huntsman felt. “Fuuckk, I’ve never seen you this desperate before, Frust.” The ranger said, admiring the bruise and teeth marks he left on his partner’s neck with lidded eyes.“Heh, I ain’t the only one.” He cupped Jalidi’s groin. A wet spot made itself evident. “This ain’t from the snow, Jelly.” He grinned and blushed, thumbing the bulge and carefully moving it about so its claw doesn’t pierce the pants leather.“Mmnh, that feels good…” Jalidi moaned, and the sight of his past lover getting down on his knees and tugging on his waist was something that stirred a dormant desire.“I’ve been dying to suck you off, it’s been too damn long since I felt your cock pulse with your need to flood my mouth.”“I’m the needy one, huh.”Frust unbuckled the ranger’s brown belt. It was a maneuver he mastered early and quickly, and thankfully his belt was the same as a year ago or he wouldn’t have impressed with setting a new record time. When he looked up for Jalidi’s confirmation, he gripped the human’s dark leather pants and slid them down, exposing his legs to the cold of the Shiverpeaks. They hung on the steel wing attachments framing his leather boots.Cushioning his face underneath his partner’s retreating ballsack, the mesmer purred and nuzzled his snout against it playfully. “Thought I’d warm you up a bit,” he whispered, glazing his face with strings of Jalidi’s eager pre, “give my face another set of white stripes.” His soft laughter rumbled the human’s nutsack.Jalidi might’ve scuttled back against the ice wall and sunk into a self-hug with the blush on his face that could’ve easily been mistaken for the purple of hypothermia, but it was impossible for him to hide the moaning enjoyment from the attention his dick was getting. The furred touch to his sack and hardened prick forced tingly sensations through his spine. Frust was only just warming him up.“Ahh fuuck…” He felt a long, experimental lick from a rough, wet, feline tongue on his taint, then the underside of his shaft. He clenched his teeth, too busy groaning to realize a hand had left his hip to unzip another pair of pants.A mewl of wanton thirst escaped the charr, with a huff of warm breath wrapping around the tanned, wrangled wood of his guild leader. “I swear Jelly, I might need you to cum down my throat twice, fuck dude.” Without so much as placing a single hand on that dark flesh, Frust dives in, inching closer and closer to stuff the entirety of that juicy cock in his mouth.He twists and gyrates, lathering the rod like a grooming wash, coating it with slick saliva. If anything, the time away had made him realize how horny he was for his past lover’s jizz, lapping up every bit of his pre. It was as sweet as he remembered, and no one else quite matched that luscious, rich taste.The ranger felt his body act on memory and instinct, gripping a tuft of Frust’s fluffy hair. He felt the damaged split-ends of the tips that he dyed pink compared to the smooth and thick white he normally had. From how Jalidi massaged it between each finger, he could tell the mesmer reapplied the dye a few months ago—just before he ventured to the Crystal Desert, maybe. He felt that moan that Frust did whenever he tugged on his hair, rounding him up to be faster. A begging moan Jalidi happily reciprocated, a breakage of the dry spell he didn’t know he desperately needed.Too eager to stop, Frust ramps up, taking every fathomable surface of that human’s longbow and prepping it to nock arrows of white semen down his throat, the tight confines of which squeezed and jerked it with immense pressure. They had their quick bangs at night to blow off steam, but this might’ve been a new record in speed, both amplifying their moans at breakneck pace. Of course, Jalidi didn’t mind his flesh caressed and meticulously careened by a fervent feline tongue, nor did he mind the moist warmth when the charr gobbled every bit of precum he sucked from his crown down his warm gullet.“F-Fucck Frust… you r-ready for it, kitty?”An echo reverberates throughout Jalidi’s pulsing longbow, aching for it to release its ammo. And, with one last squeeze, the ranger digs in his partner’s hair and shoves his weapon down the mesmer’s throat, a shuddering, shattering moan accompanying a glorious, glorious release of slick, thick spunk down his slippery gullet. Shots after shots of virile cum-arrows coat the insides of his snout as the guild leader sputters in a charr-like caterwaul. The howling winds and the grueling cold of Hoelbrak ceased for but a minute as Jalidi rides the blowing arrow straight to a bullseye.Jalidi slumps on his ass, but Frust licks the remnants of semen drooling from his lips, growling in deep satisfaction from swallowing it. His eyes were pinker, somehow. “Fucking delicious,” the charr said, “missed that taste. Glad you didn’t even bother edging.”“Mmnh, I don’t miss that cum breath.”Frust scoots up to Jalidi’s face, flushed with red and drunken by having just given the experienced guild leader a blowjob. “How’s it feel, Jelly? Tingly as usual?” He poked the human’s softening prick, oozing its last batch of spunk on his pants. He knew how sensitive Jalidi was after sex and loved to rib and tease him about it.“Phew, not enough for a second round, if that’s what you’re asking.” The tracker exhaled a sigh, throwing an arm over his partner’s shoulders. “Need a hand?”A mesmerizing charr penis drooled a strand of clear pre on the snow, unhappy that, for the most part, it was ignored. Frust’s pants were half-buried in the upset snow, unzipped and off his form. It was truly hypnotizing—the dark, twitchy flesh of that feline cock, its tiny, stimulating, rounded nubs, its pointy crown. Without so much of an illusion to mess his mind, Jalidi felt compelled to wrap a hand around it and touch that warm, stiff, throbbing rod. How’d he get his pants off if his claws were too busy digging into the tracker’s sides in ecstasy?The tensing chronomancer moans, biting his lower lip, “aaghh, yeaaahhh, thanks…” He relaxes into it and collapses next to Jalidi, nestling his head underneath a flaccid dark dick and limply leaning as if he were receiving a massage.A hand massage, maybe, directed towards his leaky member. One the ranger was keen to drag out in a comfortable slow burn. Jalidi’s left hand focused on soothing the charr with loving scratches, and the other was concentrating on slow, slick motions up and down that soft-barbed willy. He had forgotten how prickly the charr’s dick was, and he loved that his hands remembered every bit of texture it offered.Frust pants and breathes heavily, but purrs all the same. “Most other guys don’t even do this.”“Can’t cajole them to jerk you off? Your flattery even gets straight men to be curious.” Jalidi said, his tones bathed in a blanket of snow and a post orgasmic haze.“I got you curious, Jelly.”Though he brushed aside the question, his body language held the answer. From the way his dick begged with every stroke, Jalidi knew that it was on rare occasions that his partner’s nightly patrons would take care of him. “Heh, I had a boyfriend years before rescuing you, Frust.” He said, reminding him that his bisexuality wasn’t exactly a thing the charr sparked.“Being 15 doesn’t couuun—fucck.” Jalidi had upped the rhythm, provoking a breathy groan.“Shh, we don’t talk about Geoffrey. That was half my life ago.”“Dude, you started it.”“And do you want to finish?”The chronomancer groaned with a mixture of frustration for being out-sassed but also in pleasure, for the tip of his cock was swirled with a finger.In blissful silence, Jalidi gently strokes and milks the charr’s tense shaft. They revel in the sensations, and the mesmer gives playful licks to a slack sack of nuts resting on his nose in hopes of coercing another erection. And he does, but the huntsman quickly shoots his playful jabs at a second blowjob down. When Frust’s tension builds high, he clenches his teeth and mutters a staggered phrase, “I-I’m feelin’ it come real close, man. Your hand feels… f-fucking good…” He grinds into it, matching his partner’s rhythm as if he were hammering a conjured, spectral clone.It’s closer than he expected, and soon, the pressure becomes an unstoppable force. He ardently pistons into Jalidi’s hand, his whole body clutched with a sense of deliriousness as he trembles and sprays his tightly clothed chest with bursts of feline seed. The charr clings onto his marksman, riding the high he’s been deprived of for months. Moments pass, and finally the last dregs of cum leak out, the fleshy piston running on fumes.In the end, he’s a mess. Licking his soaked hand, the guild leader reminds himself of the strong taste of charr cream—of Frust’s cream. He allows the recuperating charr to calm down, his tired member softening.“I lied.” The charr crooned, still not having moved a muscle.“Hmm?”“I was the needy one.”“Dunno,” Jalidi smiled, a grin of sentimentality, “could’ve fooled me.”They laughed.“Speaking of fooling,” Frust said, wobbling his way to his feet and zipping up his pants, “that illusion has about five more minutes to it.”Jalidi had a panicked, stunned look to his face. “H-Hey, we should clean you up, no?” He springs up, but trips on his boots and crashes back on his rear. Suddenly the cold made itself known again. “Shit.”The mesmer points and laughs at his partner’s flustered embarrassment, “I can’t believe you forgot, Jelly!”“What?” The huntsman carefully balances to his feet and waddles to grab the stained turtleneck of a smug charr, his pants dragging behind and leaving a trail.“Ahaha, my illusions can last however long I want!”“Yeah, well, make this last however long you want.” He shoves a middle finger up his partner’s snout, but the charr’s half-lidded eyes only seemed to enjoy the response he expected.“Oh, I will. Up my ass, probably.”Shaking his head, pulling up his leather pants and readjusting his belt, Jalidi stretches his stiff legs, gearing himself to embrace the shivers of the Shiverpeaks once more. The red from his dark-skinned cheeks return to their natural color. “Don’t you think you should clean up your cum?” He said, swirling and cracking the wrist he used to service Frust.“This? I mean… if you really want me to...” When he’s met with a deadpan stare, Frust winks and snaps a finger, to which a pink, spectral conjuration of his hand manifests a few inches away from his partner’s face, levitating near his jaw. It places a claw on the still unamused human’s chin, lifting it up ever so slightly, then floats over to the messy and ragged outfit of the chronomancer, flinging off stray rivulets of drying semen before vanishing to the wind. He places a hand on his hip and swishes his tail, “happy?”The mesmer disenchants the illusioned barrier that sheltered their lovemaking as the duo converge to the Biergarten of Hoelbrak, its livelihood undisturbed. Every time Jalidi took a few glances at him, he beamed with brimming joy.“So, am I back in the guild?”“Of course, Frust. Cold Sun’s Dawn misses you.”“I’m glad. I still have to thank Fjorst for letting me vent to him all those months ago.” The charr said, displaying a hearty grin from left ears to right ears. “Say, why’d you come to Hoelbrak anyway Jelly?”“It was only a brief stop. Commander’s convinced that Joko’s Awakened mummies are pushing to central Tyria via portal, so he requested my presence at the Wayfarer’s Foothills to strategize about it.”Thoughtful, Frust grasped the blindfold he kept in his pocket—the instrument that allowed him to sense alternate timelines. “You two could use me, then.”Jalidi nodded and ushered them both back under the flowered, cherry tree-wrapped overpass to the Great Lodges. “Definitely. But first, I ought to introduce you to Wahid.”“Wahid? Is this another man you’re crushing on?”The ranger chuckled, “hahah, you’ll see.”
A Star to Guide Us
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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“Congrats Ospy! I’m so happy fer ya!”“Opus! I’m glad you came to my class’s graduation. Was nice seeing you and Magnum out in the crowd, hehe.”“How’s it feel? Havin’ graduated ‘nd all.”Osprey smiled, pulled a hand to scratch an itch behind his head, and took a good look at everything around him. Many folk gravitated towards the trunk of the absolutely colossal tree the Livingwood College was built around. With the autumn season in full swing, beautiful, vibrant leaves layered the outdoor auditorium stage in a plethora of colors. It was a time of pride and a time of celebration. Many of his classmates were here with their families, several having traversed the span of the world in order to reach the solitary campus underneath the realm’s largest tree. It was a time to be hopeful towards the future.He looked back towards his bright-eyed gnome friend, clad in their usual violet swirls that contrasted the navy sea of graduation robes. “Certainly surreal.” He laughed, almost in disbelief to having gone through the whole ceremony. After removing his cap and unfurling his curly red hair, he felt the slight wind brush against the back of his neck. The rush of folk stepping off the stage and speaking with professors and fellow students was in full swing, and the two certainly felt constricted by the lack of space.“Is your metal buddy alright?” He asked Opus, noting their brass four-legged construct sticking close to his master, albeit a bit more quivery than normal.“I reckon he’s a li’l antsy havin’ to stay still for a few hours ‘nd listen to all yer profs’ speeches.”The pudgy short elf put a thumb to his chin and closed his eyes for a moment, “c’mon, let’s head to our spot. You can ride him on the way.”A surprised Opus shook their head and instinctively ruffled the artificial foliage they built their metallic companion with, “huh? But ain’t it early afternoon? Don’tcha wanna talk to yer profs or somethin’?”“Nah,” the taller of the two started, turning his back to Opus and getting a start on the journey, “everyone wants to talk to them right now. I got some time tomorrow to say my goodbyes. Plus, they have to prep for the Arcanacraft’s graduation in an hour. I’m not privy to subjecting you to that.”“Hey…!” Opus exclaimed to an elf who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, “didn’t you minor in Arcanacraft?”They mounted the leather saddle on Magnum, strapping their spell tome and notebooks in their appropriate holsters. It wasn’t uncommon for Opus to get curious looks at the Livingwood College; after all they were a gnome far from home with a mechanical construct blending engineering and magic. Many of their conversations on campus the past year started with an innocent “so what courses did you take to build that thing,” believing that they were a fellow student. And while that did net the lonely gnome a few acquaintances, they did have to push past a few unsavory types looking to tap into the artificer’s mind for nefarious purposes.Maneuvering around crowds, the duo made their way through administrative buildings of tanned wood and clockwork and trendsetting cafes that smelled of mint. One of the many benefits with building the world’s largest magical college underneath the world’s largest tree was the never-ending span of shade it provided. Perfect in the summer season, but in autumn, its vicious winds required even most wizard apprentices to shield themselves from leaf storms. Despite minor inconveniences, Opus still found an awe-inspiring sight every time they strolled campus, finding beauty in the pattern of the Tree’s enormous roots or the self-sufficient ecosystem it seemed to provide. It was an explorer’s dream, and that first month of befriending Osprey was a lengthy one, considering the gnome’s incessant desire to sketch every slight detail of the Tree from all angles.They stopped by Osprey’s apartment flat on the eastern edge of campus for just a few minutes. Opus mentally noted the last time they might see the teal and black feathers that adorned the doors and windows of the small building’s spiritual common rooms his companion had attached. Finally, after long moments of what seemed like lamentful reminiscing of every tiny detail of the oaken-built, creaky flat, their elven friend reemerged outside, ready in his cheery white and blue loose robes that highlighted his inviting and calming nature. He always looked good in that, Opus thought, more so than the modest navy graduation robes plastered with the College’s gaudy crest.Despite Opus’s pride and happiness towards their closest friend’s graduation, they masked a sense of nervousness. That feeling crept to the surface on the two’s silent journey out of campus and through the woods. As they traveled further southward, the Tree’s canopy increasingly broke through beams of light, where bundled vines, brush, and potpourris of flowers wildly flourished.Then, right at the edge of the Tree’s shady grasp, they found their spot. A spot dotted with hills and waterfalls descending tall cliffs towards the Zadyne Strait and its shimmering, reflective waters. A spot where a friendship was forged and memories were made.Opus rolled up their detached violet sleeves and dismounted Magnum, petting him and tuning the etherite crystal levitating between his twisty horns to power him down. “Do ya... want me to set it up?” They asked with a raised eyebrow, unfastening their patchwork Bag of Holding and lending it to a lonesome tree’s side atop the hill.“Nah,” the elf said, “not yet at least. Let’s just chat.”The platinum blonde-haired gnome raced through flashbacks of their companionship. Their spot evoked several memories of the past four months of observing the newfound Guiding Star in the night sky as part of Osprey’s stressful thesis and of the first few months of grieving and loneliness.Osprey’s face lifted, his freckles accentuating his smile as he sat by the tree and straightened his legs, resting a hand on his exposed belly. “I owe it to you,” he said, calmly looking towards the drifting clouds in the blue sky.“Naw naw. It’s fine, Ospy! Ya needed yer time, I understand.”“Still, I’m sorry. Hope that a week of shutting myself in my apartment can be made up with a self-care day like this, hehe.”The artificer sat next to their wizard friend, “I heard from Eris that Miss Enyorel hated yer revised thesis worse’n she hated her children. Like, worse’n the time she kept try’na say the device I built fer ya ‘ain’t a valid measurement o’ the star’s alignments.’”A tiny white bird landed on the tip of Osprey’s finger, pecking at it before moving on with its day. “Meh. Ms. Enyorel was just looking out for me. It’s not every year that a stranger to the College comes in and builds one of the most accurate instruments to chart the stars. I wasn’t surprised she was suspect of you.”With a calm smile on his face, the elven graduate pointed out the slew of sea vessels crossing the Strait towards the Livingwood College’s port. Even from far up atop a cliff, their multicolored sails and multinational flags flew firm and bold. Never on a boat past his birth, Osprey wondered how sea life was like. How it must have felt to live in wooden ships of wonder, sailing across a vast blue stretch of waves. Was it the life his parents intended for him, having been born on such a seafaring vessel? Or was it because his family was inspired by a group of sea hawks patiently hunting for prey in a connecting river the day before, and it was their way of bestowing the bird’s blessings on their child?Whatever the reason, his gnomish companion observed his distracted stare towards the skies. “I’m glad things worked out fer ya, though,” they said, their quiet and uneasy tone betraying their relief, “y’ain’t deservin’ o’ that stress.”Osprey chuckled softly, putting a robed hand over his mouth, “it would have been irresponsible of me to simply lose myself to the joys of stargazing when the brightest star in the sky was birthed in our lifetime.” However, he couldn’t deny feeling relieved, “of course, now that I’ve graduated, I can worry less on having to defend my thesis to the Theology Board and focus more on following my heart.”Opus shifted a bit, bunching their lips and taking their gaze away from the cloudy skies and towards the grassy hilltop. A peaceful silence took over them with the only sounds being the swaying branches of trees behind them. Minutes pass, and though Osprey revels in the tranquil vibes, his shorter friend fidgets with their swirly detached sleeves in nervousness. “I… I’m scared o’ bein’ lonely again without’cha. I just—I just get the naggin’ feelin’ I ain’t ever seein’ ya again when ya move out t’morrow ‘nd leave to go back.”The elf parted a strand of hair in front of his eyes and crossed his legs, seeing how the emotional artificer struggled to hold their tears crushed him. “Opus…” he began, fighting through the gnome’s sniffles and looking at their glossy violet eyes with a serene look, “you’ll be okay.”He gestured to the sky, where the daylight gradually reddened and the clouds slowly dispersed. “The world is huge, just waiting to be explored by you. And even though we might be apart,” he pointed to a precise spot in the sky above them, “the Guiding Star’s light will always burn bright and keep us connected.”Although he didn’t give the violet-clad gnome a chance to respond, he ushered them on their weary feet with a gleeful smirk, “c’mon, friend, let’s get it set up.”While normally Osprey kept their dress tidy, he never minded getting his white and blue patterned robes dirtied when helping Opus do their magic. The worst of it was just getting soot and grease on their exposed midriff and open-toed sandals after all. Nothing spells dedication to a friend’s craft than getting down and dirty with them to ensure their inventions don’t blow up.Though having configured the setup over several months has taken the process less and less time, it was still a meticulous arrangement. Opus gathered the necessary parts from the infinite extradimensional space of their Bag of Holding, retrieving copper tubes, metallic components, glass lenses, and other instruments that definitely seemed too large for the jerrybuilt satchel to contain individually. The artificer planted the embellished tripod at the normal spot, three indentations atop the hill apparent of its frequent use. Though Osprey had to shoo away curious small birds, he assisted with placing connecting clockwork so that Opus had time to install the adjustable and extendable copper tube that funneled outward towards the sky.After placing a few enchanted lenses at the end of the tube, mounting the appropriate celestial sextant and its angular mirrors underneath it, and doubly checking for smooth joints and rotations, Osprey wipes a developing bead of sweat from an eyebrow and crosses his arms. He twirls a teal feather affixed to his left sleeve. “Alright, ready for me to power it up?”“Ya bet’cha. Didn’t prep the See Invisibility lens t’night though, so that possum’s stayin’ in the pen.”The elven astral mage clasped his hands together, tensing his fingers and focusing intensely. It was one of the rare times he frowned, as glowing strings of white, dim light emerged from the joints of his fingers and conjoined into a lengthy ribbon of magic. Breathing a sigh of relief and relaxing his hands, Osprey directed the ribbon to overlay the elven inscriptions carved on the copper tube’s sides, the singular cursive phrase now fully lit with a magical battery. Opus couldn’t help but admire the nearly nonsensical wind blowing their friend’s hair in a powerful way during this step. It must have been an added prestidigitatious effect to make him look cooler, they thought.Both Opus and Osprey looked up and saw the sky dominated by darkening oranges and decorated with miniscule white dots. A dark blue night was approaching.“Hey, Opus,” the taller one said after a belligerent breeze died down, “let’s enjoy this. Twilight is ours to see.”With their fully configured and magically powered telescope, the two friends began to stargaze. It was odd for the duo, having been to this spot for the past month purely for the purposes of measuring alignments, celestial data, and magical resonance. Not having a thesis to continuously iterate and refine was a huge burden off their shoulders. Recalling earlier times in the year where Osprey was developing his thesis, the artificer retrieved a chart from their notebook on preliminary data the two gathered on the Guiding Star’s birth.“Remember this?” they said, holding up the parchment with neatly drawn sketches of their favorite hilltop spot complementing the margins, “remember how they said this ain’t a valid research source since I had ‘no credibility?’ And outright told ya the all-nighters we spent ain’t gonna fly?”The plump graduate gave a knowing, deep laugh, “hehe, well, I remember reminding them that you’re from the Loregit family in Arcadia and it wouldn’t do right by them to disrespect a patron of the College’s archives.” He gave Opus a wink, “the Board straightened up after they recalled they were loaned some artifacts from your family’s Hall of Histories.”“Only a li’l, I reckon. Miss Enyorel still kept bendin’ yer ear ‘bout me.”“Ah, well, she always saw your family as an oddity she couldn’t pin down. That annoyed her.”The Loregit gnome stepped closer to Osprey as he adjusted the telescope to be at eye level. Looking away towards the earthly colors of the ground, their breathing quickened slightly and their gaze wavered. Thoughts scrambled in their mind and butterflies spawned in their stomach; it took several minutes for them to muster the courage to open their mouth. They kept reminding themself that this was perhaps the last day they might ever see each other. “Can-Can I… hold your hand, Ospy?”“Huh? Oh! Sure.” The elf responded, unfazed by the nature of his shorter companion’s request.For but a moment, Opus’s senses cut off the world around them, and all they could feel was the satisfaction of their closest friend’s hand wrapped around their own. Ospy’s hand was warm and soft. It was smooth and delicate with ensorcelling swirls on his palms.“Are you alright? I don’t recall you wanting to hold my hand before.” He added, grounding Opus back to reality.Embarrassed, Opus recovered from their tongue-tied state and managed a sentence, “oh... y-yer okay wit’ me holdin’ yer hand?”“Hehe,” they chuckled, as if the answer were obvious, “of course, friend. Why wouldn’t I let you hold my hand?”Opus’s heart raced. So many other theology students were over-the-top with how snobby and pretentious they were. They’d make nasty remarks of even one student challenging the status quo of spiritual views they dubbed “common sense.” They were afraid that Ospy would suddenly turn out to be like that… despite the adventures they had, dangers they’ve overcome, and mysteries they solved. They feared rejection. “I-I dunno, I reckoned…”The wizard cut them off, a droopy, sad look to his eyes when he saw his shaking friend, “Opus… can you tell me what’s on your mind?” He took Opus’s other hand and tightened his grasp, causing the nonbinary gnome to turn red. It took them a minute of darting their eyes to everywhere but their companion’s face before they could take a deep breath.“I just… I just… felt like I oughta say somethin’ ‘fore you move out t’morrow. It’s just… tough fer me to spout…”Osprey raised a single hand and twirled it, articulating his fingers with a whispering incantation that caused the low hum of the telescope to power down and lose its magical shimmer. He led his anxious companion back to the lonesome tree, where they sat down abreast. The earth and dirt below them felt strangely soothing to the rock gnome, but that feeling doubled when Ospy held their hand again, almost massaging it.“Take your time, friend. Know that I can wait all night if you need it.”With his elven, keen eyes, Osprey pays close attention to Opus, watching them thoughtfully and patiently. Tears drop on the artificer’s purple shawl as they absentmindedly rub the three earrings on their right ear.
“Hey,” he whispered softly, a voice that felt like it could calm the most enraged of beasts, “I never had the chance to touch your earrings. May I? They’re beautifully crafted.”“O-Oh. Yeah, ya can.”The sounds of crunchy leaves perpetuated the air as Osprey shifted closer, gently placing two fingers on his friend’s ear. He focused on the memories the earrings stored, the painful memories of Opus’s late friends. He focused on the brown wing, feeling the memories of a divine and simultaneously elemental pulse. He felt the memories of a cold nose. Gingerly rubbing the blue bear, he felt the uncertainty of their past actions, a welling of regret. He felt a changing presence, as if a supernatural shapeshifter were nearby. Finally, he concentrated on the gleaming eye, slashed with a scar, where an overwhelming sense of safety rushed through his mind. He felt the memories of motherly protection wash over him, and of a shared grief.“They really meant a lot to you.”“You mean a lot to me,” Opus added, “you… helped me cope…”Osprey smiled, a tear rolling down his own face as he recalled the memories of meeting a grief-stricken Opus a year ago. The night sky stole his glance for a second, where he spotted the constellation of Ursuus’s bear face just underneath the Guiding Star, signifying the solemn change that autumn brings.Scratching an itch behind their neck and gathering the bravery they needed the Loregit gnome turned to their friend, “I… I reckon I fancy you, Ospy… a lot,” a slow, wobbly drawl built their words, “l-like… I feel more’n a smidge o’ green in the gills when I think ‘bout ye movin’ away…”Despite the gnome’s peculiar language sugarcoating it, the chubby elf realized what Opus was trying to say and hugged them. It was a tight hug that coerced sobs from them. He squeezed on his friend’s shawl, feeling the rugged and worn texture it endured for so long. “I truly appreciate that I mean so much to you, Opus,” he whispered, his own soft voice cracking a bit. No longer having the will to keep their tears held back, Opus began to cry, turning the valve to let the waterworks flow.“I-I-I don’t know why I love you, Ospy. T-This ain’t feelin’ like anythin’ o’ the stories I read when I was younger. I’m-I’m so sorry Ospy.”“Don’t be sorry for loving me, Opus!” Osprey was normally a calm and serene person that was infamous for his permanent, relaxed aura, but this was the second time Opus ever heard him this riled up. “It’s okay! It’s okay to feel like that.”“Ospy…”A determined expression formed on the graduate’s soft face, the light of the stars highlighting his wide jaw and round cheeks.“Can… can I ask ye fer somethin’? Somethin’… weird.” They looked away, lowering their chin as if they were already convinced that they’d be rejected and prepared to be emotionally devastated.Osprey nodded.“Can you kiss me?” The shock of hearing their voice crack under pressure caused them to shudder and hastily hide themselves underneath their shawl. They muttered numerous inaudible apologies, feeling it was the most absurd request in the realm. Yet, when their warm elven friend lifted up their face and pulled the shawl down, they saw nothing but a cheerful smile on his face and heard a stifled giggle. It felt like Osprey painted their cheeks with red paint.“Would it be your first kiss?” He asked.“Y-Yeah.” They felt ashamed and vulnerable, like revealing a dark secret that could be manipulated.Delicately placing a hand under his friend’s chin, Ospy lifted it gently once more. “Then let’s make it special.”The world disappeared, everything a black void save for Osprey’s soft lips that came into contact with Opus’s. The elf tasted the taste of a rock gnome’s bitten lower lip; of a lovable, quirky gnome’s saliva. He felt the insecurities of his closest companion fade away when they finally accepted reality and shut their glossy, violet eyes. Osprey transitioned his hand, grabbing a light hold of Opus’s hair at the back of their head. He subtly convinced him to open his mouth bit by bit, forcing the gnome to remember to breathe through their nose while he inched his tongue inside to touch theirs. For all the exploring the two do of the stars, they rarely had the chance to explore each other, both feeling like the other’s Guiding Star.Discovering a hidden hunger for more, Osprey pushed in, prodding his tongue inward to gracefully dance and frolic around theirs. He savored the taste of his short inventor friend, only ceasing their passionate, sloppy kiss when his elven jaws started to strain.They both took comparatively short minutes to catch their breath and re-attune to the calm hill around them. Osprey giggled when a stunned Opus couldn’t find words to speak as if the entire common language escaped their grasp. “So? How’d it feel?” He tilted his head to the side and held the gnome’s shivering hand.“I-I… Over the moon…! Ospy… you… ye kissed me! A-Am I dreamin’? Oh gosh… please don’t tell me…” Opus grabbed a surprised Osprey’s shoulders and rattled him violently, “Yer not usin’ yer dream magic on me, right?”“Hehe, no, Opus! The only magic is the magic your heart’s feeling right now.” Osprey said, accompanied with a rumbly chuckle and a grin, “to prove it, I can kiss you again, if you’d like.”“H-Huh?” The artificer felt like they had malfunctioned. This had to have been a dream.But the red-haired elf brought his face closer to his companion’s, his lidded, green eyes teasing them like a fantasy they imagined once before. “I admit… it was really nice to kiss you, Opus.”The gnome answered by pressing their lips wildly at Osprey, taking the same approach they do with their tinkering: throw things at it until something sticks. And their lips stuck, their lips vied for dominance over each other, discarding the earlier grace they shared. They tasted the cosmos of their crush, the celestial starstuff that resonated throughout his form. They knew that if they were to part their lips, they would lose the fleeting feeling of astral serenity that oozed from every fiber of their best friend’s being. So they kept going, they kept mimicking the actions of scenes they read in fairy tales. They didn’t want to stop, pushing forward and forward into the starlight’s nova.Astonishment filled Osprey as he felt his companion summon the strength to overpower him and throw him off balance, strands of saliva breaking off between them as he fell on his rear. “W-Whoa.” The elf blinked, discovering the stashed reservoir of strength Opus seemed to possess.“O-Ospy! Gosh, I’m-I’m sorry! Did… did I hurt’cha?”“No no… The opposite, I think!” He wiped off arrogant, dead leaves stuck to his elbows from the tumble, “the magic of your heart burns very fervently… I can feel just how much you love me.” Osprey embraced the blush across his freckles, almost drunken by the experience. “Heheh, that means more to me than what you can imagine, friend.”The sounds of burrowing owls of the night made their way to the two as they propped themselves back against the tree, still riding the high of sharing their passion. “When did you first fall in love with me, Opus?” Osprey asked, never letting go of his close companion’s calloused hand and rubbing the swelled swirls tenderly.Opus found themself huddling against the chubby elf’s warmth with Osprey happily accepting the invitation to cuddle and wrapping a softly covered arm around them. They needed this. “I… I dunno.” They started, still struggling to believe this isn’t a dream he was working on them, “I reckoned... maybe when ye shielded me from an animated greataxe nearly slicin’ me in two.”“Really? From the obscurantists’ secret archives below the plaza?” The elf blushed, feeling almost nostalgic for the months the duo spent unraveling a series of deadly mysteries underneath the College.Yet the smaller gnome sighed, unsure of where to look but adamant in their refusal to never stray from their best friend’s warmth, tugging on his hand like it was the last thing they’d ever feel. “Ospy… I feel like I can’t tell if this is real o’ not. Why’re ya lettin’ me get this close to ya? Why’d ye kiss me? Why’d ye let me feel so… giddy?”Almost as if he were spoiling Opus with affection, Osprey began to stroke their hair, feeling the weathered strands. “May I?” He asked, curious if he could continue. Though they had a forlorn look in their eyes, they just couldn’t say no to their crush.“Opus… don’t feel bad for falling in love with me. You followed your heart, and because of that you’re one of the strongest folk I know.”“B-But… y’ain’t feelin’ likewise wit’ me, r-right?”Osprey played with his gnomish friend’s light hair and earrings but his movements slowed. He thought about all the grief they had to endure and how much he meant to them when they first met and befriended each other.“I guess… I love a bit differently.” He said, trying to piece together the right words. Never having to explain it, he had some difficulty figuring out what he meant; the silence of which became obvious to his cuddle buddy like the location of the Guiding Star in the night sky. “I do love, but… I suppose it’s tough for me to show it.”“Even when ye were swell wit’ kissin’ me…?”The wizard of cosmos covered a soft chuckle with a hand, “hehe, well, love comes in many ways, I would think. Just like the stars.” He continued after a minute of gazing at the sparkles blanketing the black ether above. “I do love you, Opus. I cherish you… incredibly so. You’re the closest companion I’ve ever had the pleasure of befriending.”Those words rang through the artificer’s head. They repeated like a faulty recording box that never overwrote its prior phrase, and the one it stuck with was ‘I do love you.’ Like the cogs sprung out of their invention and went missing forever, but they were the only gears of its kind and thus the gadget couldn’t be fixed, a permanent reminder. A reminder they dared not to ever scrap.“But… I think… hmm, how do say this?” The elf grunted, absentmindedly scratching an itch, “this is harder than rewriting my darn thesis, heh.” Not wanting to let his Loregit friend lament further from the wait, he started once more, “I don’t see myself with a singular partner. And I don’t know if that’s because I’m an elf with so much of his life ahead of him, but I believe my path is one treasuring the love of many, rather than pinned to the love of one.”“Whaddya mean?”Osprey stroked Opus’s cheek, feeling the lingering grease and dirt from when they built the telescope. “My love’s a bit grayer than how most see things. And that’s okay. What matters now is that we can cherish each other and enjoy the night.” Smirking, he gave the younger gnome a smug grin, “and don’t we both want more kisses?”Opus felt their chest stiffen. Someone suddenly stuffed a dozen iron ingots underneath their leather gear. “I-I, umm… y-yeah.” Melting under the elf’s smile, the violet-donning Opus hesitantly closed their eyes as their crush drew in. With a delicate hand, the handsome pudgy elf basked in the light of the stars as he pressed his lips to Opus’s. Every kiss that followed monumentally soothed the bewildered gnome like unwinding a thousand-wound string.Oddly, it was Opus that broke their making out. “H-Hold on. So ye wouldn’t date me… right? B-But if I... if I ain’t told ye ‘bout my feelin’s, then…?”“Well…” The elf inhaled and idly rubbed his chin, “not many people understand that peculiar gray love; I barely understand it. I’ve had many close friends over the years at the College, but I just kept things to myself. I suppose I convinced myself that revealing anything to them might tarnish our deep bond… something I didn’t want.”He reminded himself of the love his gnomish friend had for him, “hehe, but knowing that my deep bond with you is reciprocated in your own unique way means the cosmos to me. I don’t have to hide anything for fear of losing your precious friendship.” He felt tears dampening his loose garments. These weren’t tears of melancholy or anxiety, these were tears of relief, a rush of sobs and cries that demonstrated Opus’s final acceptance of everything. That this was truth.
They nestled closer to Osprey, resting their face under his chin and playing with the faint trail of body hair the elf sported on his rounded midriff. “I’ve… I dreamt lots o’ snugglin’ wit’cha.” A distant shooting star passed overhead, a long tail of purple and cyan following behind it that the both of them watched in serene silence until it crossed over the watery, sparkling horizon. “When ye were workin’ yer dream magic ‘nd told me ‘dream the dream you most desire,’ that was it.”“Really? Even over your Itinere? The whole reason for your adventuring? Not even triumphing over your siblings?”The inventor shook their head, realizing how strange it was, reflecting back on it. Their desire for closeness with Ospy overpowered their desire to return home with an uncovered artifact or fundamental property of the realm that they’d share with the world and gain renown for.Osprey locked his hand with Opus’s as he planted a kiss on their head, “did you dream of anything else too?”Opus turned an impossibly beet-red and tried to hide themself in their crush’s deep blue loose chestwraps. Their panicked, muffled voice tickled the plump elf, but he swore he heard them cursing themself. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” The wizard asked.“Yea, it is.” He heard their jittery voice through his chestwraps again.“I wouldn’t judge you, Opus. Dreams are wild and beautiful creatures.”They responded with a drawled moan of embarrassment. Without retreating from Ospy’s chest, they padded around the earthy hilltop in search for their Bag of Holding with a single hand, dragged it behind them and in between the lonesome tree, and then began retrieving something from within.“P-Please promise me ye won’t laugh…”“Hehe, of course, I pr—”“Ye just laughed, Ospy…!”“S-Sorry, it’s a habit. I promise, Opus.”It had a disc-like, leathery base around the diameter of a humanoid‘s palm. Dangling from it was a clear, tiny tube that connected to a sort of patchwork sack that appeared to be more of a hand pump than anything else.“O-Oh! O-Opus, that’s…”It culminated in a crested, purple head. A ridged shaft with detailed musculature. A tiny hole at the very tip.“A physically built one! You actually made a—”“Ospy!” The gnome, whose face flushed with red, finally detracted themself from the comfy wrappings of their crush and stared at him, flustered, “t-that’s…! U-Uhh…! Not the reply I was expectin’…”Osprey was fascinated, tilting his head to the side to allow the starlight to illuminate the artificer’s creation. “Whoa… yours looks exceptionally sculpted.”“Y-Yours? Ye mean to say…?”“Hehe,” he laughed from the gut, a laugh that didn’t seem to bother Opus despite their request, “they don’t teach you this in Arcanacraft, but Dildo’s Private Hour is a spell that allows you to conjure a spectral variety of your creation.” He closes his eyes and gathers a bead of whitish energy to the palm of his hand, to which he snaps and, in the blink of eye, started to grasp a similar, albeit simpler manifestation of the inventor’s tool. Its clear transparency exuded a pleasantly tickling aura. “It’s a favorite among underground spellcraft. Learned it my first year in the minor.” He winked.Opus couldn’t focus on anything but the name of the spell. “Dildo…?” They asked aloud.“Supposedly the student who formulated the spell hundreds of years ago at the College. Now that I think about it, I believe they were a gnome as well?” He willed away the spectral phallus, evaporating to motes of white that whisked off and vanished. “I suppose we just call the result of their spell ‘dildos’ now.”He laughed again, his freckles progressively brightening with red that complemented his cute, somewhat toothy smile, “heheh, I usually have to cast it twice though, an hour’s just not enough for me.”The Loregit gnome slowly sank back to the warmth of their best friend’s chest, too flustered to say anything in response. “O-Oh, but,” Ospy resumed, realizing his lewd tangent, “you showed me your physical dildo because you dreamt of it often, right? Why’s that?”His calming, loving voice contrasted with his bluntness in a way that made the shorter of the two sexually floundered. Could they really tell him why? It wasn’t obvious? They couldn’t look at him. “W-Would ya be fumin’ at me if I… if I told ya?” They said quietly, barely audible above the distant rush of waterfalls.“I can’t possibly be mad at you, Opus.”Covering their face in their friend’s chestwraps, the gnome shoved their constructed dildo into the elf’s free hand, “t-that was you… f-f-for me.”It dawned on the wizard. Dawned more than the first realization of the Guiding Star’s existence.Three minutes passed. To Opus, this seemed like an additional one third of their life added on. “…And how did it feel?” The red-haired elf asked, studying the carefully constructed phallus and tracing the underside of its purplish shaft with a finger, feeling the memories of arousal. Of intimacy. He held the clear tube that connected to the base, wondering its purpose.“N-Nice…” Opus voiced through the fabric with a whimpering tone.He felt compelled, “Opus, may I ask you something? Something I’d like your heart to answer.” His chest rumbled with a soft, though timid agreement.“Did you dream about having sex with me?”One minute. Then another nod against his chest. A slow nod, like they wanted to be on the other side of the world but simultaneously within their crush’s grasp.“Would you like to have sex with me?”Ten minutes. Osprey clutched Opus tightly and patiently, giving them warm hugs and protecting them from the chilly autumn night.“K… Kind of…”Osprey shifted Opus to get a better view of them sitting against the lonesome tree. He placed a hand over their heart and smiled, his silhouette outlined by the stars that made him at least five times more attractive.“Were you too scared to ask?”A tiny nod.He leaned over, leveling his face in front of his closest companion. “Then… can we…?” He gingerly held the gnome’s face with his two hands and softly pressed his lips against theirs. “I’d love to make memories of tonight that I’ll never forget under the Guiding Star.”“Ospy… I-I… I ain’t havin’ a clue how…” Though extremely flustered, they kept their eyes on their best friend. The gnome read a lot of tales and tomes on romance, but they’re all fleeting knowledge to them at this moment.He reassured them by kissing the back of their hand, “it’s okay, Opus.” Stroking their swirly arm sleeve with a soft smile, he continued, “we’ll go slow, we’ll follow our hearts, and we’ll tell each other exactly how we’re feeling.” He put his hand back over their heart, “just take a deep breath.”Though exaggerated, the deep breaths they took did calm down the jitters. They had to trust themself and in the immense bond the two shared.The chubby elf fully lifted up a surprised Opus and positioned them atop their rotund belly after laying down beside the lonesome tree and propping his head with the inventor’s magically supportive Bag of Holding. The gnome was small enough that, though the graduate was short himself, they could easily cuddle and use him like a warm, enticing bed. Wrapping his arms around the artificer’s back and ruffling their hair made a grin spread widely on his face without even knowing it. Especially when Opus started slowly caressing the tiny bits of body hair on his belly with affectionate scritches. It was slightly ticklish. He liked that.“Why don’t you show me what happens in your dreams?”Opus had an expression of nervousness permeate about them. They faltered under the shade of the lonesome tree, as if they forgot how to move their limbs. “A-Are ya s-sure?”“I’d love to, Opus.” He slid a hand underneath the gnome’s shawl and stroked their back, feeling the memories of traveling weariness from their light leather armor. With another deep breath and a cracking of their finger joints, Opus warmed themself up.Their eyes fell upon their crush’s chestwraps and then his patient eyes. They imagined this moment for so long, but to replicate it in reality was somehow more difficult than they ever thought. Yet the desire to share something deep and close with their closest companion kept their fuel stocked. They wanted this. No, they needed this. They needed to feel him. They needed to slowly slide their hands underneath his chestwraps and explore his flabby chest with their fingers.Ospy felt the tingle of his nipples being manipulated and swirled. Although the gnome keeps their hands clean, the elf felt the sensations of the grease and oil they work with every day ingrained into the whorls of their fingers. He sighed pleasurably, feeling the sweaty moisture of the inventor’s hands search for every bit of warmth he had to offer when they brushed over his nipples again. They harden eagerly, stimulating just the right spots from Opus’s touch.Running off the highs of enacting their dream in reality, the nonbinary gnome directed Ospy to sit up against the lonesome tree, to which Opus maps his soft body like drawing a map on a blank piece of parchment. They toy with the loose fabrics of his outfit, a deep look of concentration spreading on their face when they gradually bunch up his top and roll it off his arms and head. A stray breeze comes in as Opus’s love-struck eyes never waver from admiring their crush’s meaty physique.“Opus,” the wizard murmured with his leering, half-lidded eyes, noticing the fervent, growing bulge in his best friend’s pants, “your little tent would probably appreciate it if you didn’t stop at my top.”The gnome giggled, feeling arousal rush downward and blood flush to their face. They lowered themself, enough to take in the full sights of the wide, sadly clothed legs their companion stretched. Feeling a mixture of their trademark gnome curiosity and sexual awkwardness, the violet-clad artificer gently placed the palm of their hand over their crush’s crotch.There was a bump alright.They rubbed it, feeling its shape. It was girthy. It coerced ragged breaths from Ospy, who took a ginger hold of the gnome’s wrist to feel the motions. They felt it grow, and Opus was overcome with a pulsing need to see it closer.A deep breath, and the short gnome grasped the handles of the elf’s extravagant and fluffy white culottes. After a look up for confirmation, they closed their eyes and slid them off. They felt the astral mage wriggle off their loose sandals. While they dared not open their eyes, they leaned over to caress their crush’s stout, freckled legs, taking note to remember the texture of his soothing warmth. They fondled his thighs, gradually allowing more of their body weight over the elf as if they were inspecting him like a peculiar, but incredibly fascinating and attractive machine.As their slinking hands reached the graduate’s crotch, they felt the tight fabric of his underclothes and a more defined bulge. Pulling a card from their dreams, and although it may have seemed weird to them, Opus shifted forward, slowly pressing their face against it. It was desperate, but they needed to know how he smelled.“Mmmh…” Ospy moaned, his junk accommodating the force pressed against it. He guides Opus’s face closer, forcing them to grab a whiff of his elven musk and keep down a pleasant groan. He smelled not unlike the fresh, creamy may bells that grew atop the waterfall they frequented. A floral, green, delicate musk that complemented him and reminded the gnome of their escapades away from the Tree and into the woodlands.“G-Gods, Ospy… I can’t get ‘nuff o’ yer scent.” They kept sluggishly rolling their face around their crush’s package, squeezing their hands on his thighs for leverage. Every whiff they took exponentially heightened their lust and they soon found themself reveling in it, pressing their face against his soft tummy and working their way upwards. They don’t stop, and when they gently lift an arm to press their face against a scruffy elven armpit, Osprey hangs his jaw and groans from the unbelievably arousing sensations.The wizard couldn’t contain his moansome laughter, forming a phrase when he caught his breath from the tickle storm, “didn’t think you’d be into pits, heheh.”The hungry gnome licked his armpit, getting their personal taste of a salty, sweaty graduation as they brushed up against the elf’s form with their body. The constant contact of the Loregit’s package teased the chubby mage to no end; he pulled their face aside and kissed them without a care for delicacy. It was a sloppy kiss, but every time their mouths met Osprey felt an ever-growing desire to taste their chapped lips again and again. “Aw f-fuck…” Opus stammered, their usual verbal filter evaporating through their thirst, “I… I just need more o’ ya Ospy.”They had a sparkle in their violet eyes. The same sparkle that foretold their eager brilliance. A strong drive to get something done. This sparkle had hunger. A hunger to make love. Osprey recognized that hunger, the fervent desire of someone in complete trust wanting to experience something new and life-changing.But there was a problem. The elf tugged on the gnome’s swirly and gold-trimmed shawl, pulling them closer, “and I need more of you.” He slid his hands underneath his companion’s leather armor, feeling the sides of their lean but sturdy frame. Yet, he also felt the painful memories of physical overexertion over days of nonstop, fearful traveling. He felt them recalling those memories, the twitching as a result of his touch, their teeth subconsciously clenching as their form locks up and shudders.Their horny attitude subsiding, Opus retreats a bit, “S-Sorry…”“It’s okay. You went through a lot, Opus.”“…Can y-ye please try again Ospy?”“Are you sure?”
They nodded and leaned closer, taking a deep breath.Ospy whispered to them in a quiet, reassuring tone, “folks used to try and mock me for being born with the ‘short end of the stick’ for how my body is as an elf.” Beckoning their companion closer and ever so gently caressing the sides of their leather armor again, he continued, “after the third year, they stopped trying because they couldn’t get underneath my skin.”Pressing his face to the gnome’s upper body, his cheeks felt the haggard, padded leather on their chest that protected vital organs. “My body is beautiful. Your body is beautiful. Like the stars, our bodies are canvases of which our memories are the paint. And each one of us are a uniquely beautiful portrait that none else can replicate.”The toothy smile that spread on his face comforted Opus. Ready, they guided his hands underneath their leather equipment and felt the smooth touch of his hands on their chest, guiding them to their heart. With every heartbeat the elven mage felt, he experienced the flash of memories it still burdened, the memories it took upon its mantle, that beautiful portrait of Opus Loregit. Eventually, the gnome steered their crush’s hands over their shawl, and the two slowly doff and lower it beside the elf’s discarded robes. Without the iconic scarf-cloak they wore, the tinkerer felt exposed and bare. Yet, in the hands of their closest companion, they relax their shoulders, allowing Ospy to undo the straps and remove the faded cuirass.The graduate brings the tinkerer closer, wrapping his arms around their exposed top and tracing his fingers along the creases and muscles on their deceptively robust back. Strained, he thought, but powerful, needing of a much deserved reminder that they’re loved. He hung his arms on their shoulders and smirked, “a shame for the shadows of the night to not let me gaze upon you like we do the stars…”Opus blushed and lowered their head, bashful as they fidgeted with their fingers, “O-Ospy… yer an elf, aren’tcha? Did ye suddenly get soot in yer eyes o’ somethin’…?”“Hehe, what did you think? A compliment befitting a sexy gnome?”Drooping in posture, the bare-chested artificer timidly laughed, “s-shucks… t-thank ye…” After finding a seat on the hill abreast once more to their plump crush, the gnome continued, “h-hey… I’m sorry fer… well… aggressively sniffin’ ye just a moment ago.”“C’mon, Opus,” Ospy said, “you enjoy what you enjoy. You shouldn’t apologize for that.” He curled his smile into a tricky grin, crushing their companion’s face against his armpit in a playful, teasing hug, “plus, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you to devour me some more.”The returning scent of the strong, musky may bells overpowered all other senses to Opus. The constant reassurance their crush gave them… the non-judgmental acceptance he had… the love he had for them in his own way… the encouragement to try new things together… the artificer felt safe.And while they couldn’t explain why, that safety turned them on. As if their mouth moved on their own, they started dancing with their tongue, moving to physically examine every inch of that pudgy elf’s pit. They weren’t satisfied with a drop of sweat—they needed all of his musk, of which the graduate was all too eager to provide in his swelling heat. It was a return of that hunger.Amidst their exploratory session, Osprey felt a touch encroach on his crotch. Two fingers swirled around his returning bulge, sizing its girth. They focused on a newfound stain on his smallclothes, drawing moans from the elf. The way he hung his mouth agape persuaded the tinkerer to continue, progressively adding more fingers to their massage of the wizard’s package.“I need to see ya buck naked Ospy… P-Please…”His laugh was sexy. “Heh, my underclothes aren’t stripping themselves.”Opus fondled their fingers to the edge of the beige, tight fabric, and, in an attempt to impress their crush, tries to undress him in one fell swoop all while not breaking eye contact. Finally, after four tries and bashful mumbling, they manage to succeed, causing the wizard’s meaty scepter to spring to life.Though initially hesitant, Ospy’s empowering kiss reassured the topless gnome, grasping and weighing that magical, meaty rod in their hand. It was burgeoningly heavy, but it radiated a pulsing, twitching warmth that stood at full attention. They slid to the base, feeling their friend’s soft sack and fumbling around his bulging orbs. The presence of the growing heat in their own pants too much to ignore, Opus started with experimental strokes, gauging their crush’s reactions.The autumn night temperatures faded, and all that remained to the elf was the pleasure of being serviced by a rough, textured hand from his horny best friend. Osprey sneaks a feel over the stained tent of the gnome, reciprocating the treatment they had given him just moments before. After a cute yelp escaping from Opus, the heated elf lovingly scratches the nape of their neck and licks their Adam’s apple. “May I see you ‘buck naked’ myself?” He whispers with tense breath.“Y-Yea… please… it’s t-tighter’n a mountin’ screw down there…”The mechanical analogy gave the graduate a chuckle, and through a grin he deftly maneuvers his hands to relieve the gnome of their loose indigo pants and remove their knee-high leather boots. He noticed the vigorously twitchy member his companion had. A smaller, leaky member at that. His turn to please, he elicits sheepish gasps from the artificer as he flips himself over. Knees finding their footing on the hilltop and burying his face in their fleshy coinpurse, he spreads open Opus and rolls his tongue on and around their shaft and sack.Opus groans louder than they expected, erupting into a forge of lust from their crush fulfilling their every indulgence. “O-O-Ospy…!” They moan, casting pleading gazes to the chubby elf as he hovers his mouth over the throbbing tip of their dick.“A-Are ye… are ye gonna… do it?”“Suck your cock?” His hot breath was agonizingly teasing. “Hehe, I do want a taste of gnomish engineering.”Opus had built a prototype “tool maintainer,” as they called it, a tube stuffed with a soft, malleable substance in the shape of an anus. Yet, no matter how much they toyed with their invention in their horny off-time, nothing could have prepared them for the elf pressing his smooth tongue deep into their sensitive flesh. Reaching the base in one thrust, he slowly dragged it upward, ensuring that Opus felt every inch of his vertical ascent. The gnome subconsciously arches their hips with every wet descent, lost in a sea of exploding stars.With every suckling ascent, the astral mage wraps his lips around their best friend’s cock-head, working his tongue to lash up every dribble of salty ooze. Osprey inches closer, excitedly sucking on the gnome’s crown and reveling in the taste of his closest companion. Despite how Opus desperately tugs on the blades of grass or scratches at the bark of the lonesome tree behind them for support, they couldn’t handle the overwhelming bursts of pleasure with every motion the surprisingly skilled elf made. Every rapturing moan the gnome let out drove the wizard to please even further.The gnome struggled to form words, feeling as if their hearing vanished and their sight was of shooting stars, “F-Fuck… O-Ospy… Wait… s-stop…”Osprey used the opportunity to snag one last squeeze of that palpable prick before a string of saliva escaped his lips as he dismounted. Catching his breath, he asked, “are you holding up, Opus? I felt you getting so close.”“G-Gods… Y-Yea… Didn’t… uhh… d-didn’t wanna… y’know…”The elf chuckled over his friend’s bashful, roundabout way of wording it. Though he had his own needs, the thing he needed the most was to see his best friend’s fantasies fulfilled, so he shuffled up to cuddle a recuperating gnome and placed a hand over their chest, feeling the slow paced breathing. “How would you like to… ‘y’know’?”The panting artificer took a deep breath, their eyes distracted by the hardened elven penis brushing up their leg. Their crush is so willing to share this love with them… no matter what happened, Opus thought, they will never forget the memories of tonight. And maybe these memories can deepen and meld to forge a beautiful piece. Yet, they weren’t great at trying to word their desires without feeling timid, especially with how comfortable Ospy was with their encounter, “I… um… I had a dream ‘fore… where ye… y’know… stuffed yer… ‘t-tool’.”“Hehe, where did I stuff my tool?” He prodded at the tinkerer’s own wet, twitchy tool, poking light fun at their embarrassment through a smug grin.“I… w-well… it was more I mounted ya… ‘nd it… happened.”The wizard had to prevent himself from salivating too much from imagining it but the young gnome certainly felt a few meaty twitches. “I… have to admit, that sounds really, really hot.” His normally calm voice leaked drops of lust. Osprey eased his back against the lonesome tree and guided a leaky Opus in front. Tiny drops of precum dripped on a pudgy elf belly.“Y-Yeah.” He continued with a few preemptive pants, admiring the lean frame of the nude gnome before them and picturing his dick pushing up their insides, “I’d really love to cum like that too.” The starlight outlined their short physique in such an enticing way that the stout graduate couldn’t help but touch his own rod in anticipation.“Should… should I position m’self over… ye? W-When I… do this sorta thing, I kinda utilize my lubrication…” Opus stared at the discarded dildo next to their Bag of Holding, “should I git it?”“Heheh,” Osprey laughed from the gut, “second favorite spell to arcanacraft students: Dream’s Cream.” Weaving his fingers like an intricate semantic incantation, strings of floaty, pink spectral substance emerge from his fingertips, eventually congealing into a blob of appropriately-named dream-like liquid that hovers over the palm of his hand. Attempting his best husky voice impression, he whispered “I hope you’re ready for an increased libido, heh.”Before they could get inspired to augment and refine their own lubrication concoction, the chubby elf pulled them closer, their dick brushing up against the mage’s cheek. “Let me stick a bit inside.” One hand thoroughly massages Opus’s ass cheek and spreads it wide, causing a moan to pass from the gnome. The other hand directed the magic-based lube to coat its fingers as Osprey prodded at the tight virgin ring of his closest companion.“F-Fuck… Ospy…” Opus groaned, holding snug on their crush’s shaggy red cloud of hair and biting their bottom lip. The elf presses past the gnome’s back door, spreading the strangely warm lubricant throughout their entrance and slowly sliding a digit in and out.“How’s it feel?”“Mmmmmhhhh…”“May I slide another finger in?”“Y-Yea…”A second digit. Their anus easily accommodates the extra width as Osprey gradually digs deeper inside. Their own concoction never made it this easy, they thought among other things like their crush’s dick ravaging them until sunrise.Osprey drips the remainder of the pinkish lube from his hand, where it seems to magically gravitate towards an aroused, unsatisfied penis and messily dollops itself along the meaty scepter’s head and shaft. “My cock’s ready whenever your ass is, Opus.” They whispered while sneaking a coy lick at the gnome’s throbbing tool.It took them a few moments of psyching themselves up. In about a minute, they’ll experience the fullness of the original inspiration of their phallic invention. They’ll feel his girthy rod entrench itself inside them, claiming their virginity and unloading a mountain of spunk that’d take a day to seep out and clean up.Opus lowers themself and straddles the soft flesh of their attractive elven crush, grabbing a hold of that veiny dick behind them. Although he lightly gasps, Ospy does his best to remind the gnome, “l-let’s go slow. So you can control it, okay?” They align their back entrance to the meaty, coated scepter of their elven best friend and press down, putting more weight on their knees. The pressure against their winking anus forces them to tighten their grip on Osprey’s shoulders, but soon they find themselves penetrated, their untouched rectal tunnel occupied by a hot, slobbering member.Feeling like their anal passage was being split open from their crush’s cock-head sliding halfway within, the gnome pauses and takes sharp breaths, their back bending at an odd angle. Though soothed from the astral mage’s sensual caressing on their chest and sides, it takes a minute of calm before they resume.“A-Aww f-fuck… E-Easy does it…” Fragmented whimpers and moans fill the air as they lower deeper and deeper, finally managing to hilt the throbbing elf’s cock. Their mouth hangs open in a silent shout as the pain doesn’t wash away and their hold on Osprey tightens to a death grip. Opus’s constricting rectal muscles further drives the elf crazy with intense milking sensations enveloping the fullest of their thick rod, causing the strained wizard to grin through it all.It’s too much, even with the magical lube doing its magical work. “I-It hurts, O-O-Ospy…”Through sparse, heavy pants, the pudgy elf manages a response, “i-it’s okay. Let’s pause for now.” Clenching their ass and their teeth, Opus slowly lifts themself and frees the carnal connection, slippery spectral fluid dripping from the slightly gaping entrance. They carefully collapse atop the soft, warm body of their crush, dejected.“S-Sorry…” they muttered, their voice resembling that of a scrapped prototype.“It’s not your fault, Opus,” he holds them snugly, nuzzling on their neck, “we can still have a good time.”Absentmindedly measuring their elven best friend’s nipples with their fingers, they continued solemnly, “I… umm… I wanted to… y’know… l-lose my virginity w-with ya…”Ospy gave them a ginger, short-lived kiss. “I don’t have to cum inside you for you to lose your virginity, Opus. Hehe, you fully hilted me, I’d say that counts.” Although their hardened pricks might’ve gone soft, the beaming smile on the elf’s face did not.Opus deeply blushed, burying their face in the plump wizard’s chest and groaning in embarrassment. “I-I still want to…!”He ran his hand through his closest companion’s short, platinum-blonde hair and looked at the gleaming stars above. “Well, Opus, how about I show my love for you and flip things around?”“H-Huh…?” Ospy’s chest rumbles from the vibrations of his gnomish friend’s bewildered tone.Slowly setting Opus aside, the heavy graduate stands and stretches his limbs, facing the cliff atop the hill and engorging himself with bright starlight. The tinkerer couldn’t help but feast their eyes on that bouncy, plump, wriggly rump, noting how his freckles dotted those rotund cheeks like a star chart. What were they thinking about again?R-Right. How Ospy offered to “flip things” around. Meaning their tool? In that ass.Like a screwdriver.
“Heheh, Opus?” The elf turned around after rolling and cracking his neck, spying upon a small gnomish wand standing at full attention. “Are you salivating?” He laughed a cute laugh.“Wh-What? N-No…!” Their eyes eagerly darted to anywhere but the impossibly beautiful frame of their crush while swiftly wiping any hard evidence of their desire.Osprey bent down and knelt before the gnome he called his best friend, placing a finger and tracing their red-flushed face. “You mean… you don’t want to nut inside me…?”Don’t fall for the teasing.“Y-Yea…! I-I-I mean… uhhh…”Or do fall for it. Hook, line, and sinker.“Hehe. You’re such a beautiful, horny mess, Opus.” He seductively sucked on the same finger and traced the underside of their tool’s shaft, swirling its head and coaxing a bead of pre to trickle down. The finger caught it, and he brought it back to his mouth where he smeared it on his lips and whirled his tongue over it. The anticipation killed the artificer, all of the pain from earlier erased from their memory like they were never written.Sashaying over the lying gnome, the hungry elf shushes them of any timid protests and props their Bag of Holding behind them for neck support. He made sure the earth beneath them wouldn’t kick up any dirt during their lovemaking as he lasciviously positioned himself above the tinkerer, caressing his best friend’s weary thighs and playing with their calloused fingers with his delicate hands.Once again, he collects arcane energy at his fingertips to conjure another helping of Dream’s Cream, directing it to liberally slather itself on the inventor’s fleshy wrench. They wince from the new sensation, reminding themself of the still present, slow-drying pinkish lubricant still seeping from their rear and staining the hilltop below them.Osprey lowers his back entrance to the very tip of that desperate gnomish wang, his heavy hips swirling in a slow motion that dances with the dick poking at his supple sphincter. Hearing their moans and feeling their toes curl caused a wanton smile to crawl on the wizard’s face, his curly, shaggy hair blocking his eyes. Remnants of spectral lube slather atop of the gnome’s arched midriff as the mage puts on a lustful, teasing show, his flourishing foreskin barely covering that impressive, hefty scepter of a cock. “Ready to ravage my hole apart, my sexy gnome?” He said, keen to demonstrate the reinforced, expanded libido he felt from the second application of Dream’s Cream.“Gods yea, Os—ooh fffuuucck!!” Opus screamed. Not out of pain, but out of pure ecstasy over the entirety of their length being hilted in one heavy descent. “F-Fuck, ohh f-fuck Ospy… A-Ahhh!” Their breathing quickens, and it takes the collective strength of the universe to not burst their seed right then and there. The elf’s weight made everything ten times more intense, his tender tunnel firmly clamping down on their tool.Feeling the overbearing pressure of their smaller friend, Ospy pauses for but a moment, soothing their best friend’s chest and bending over to embrace them in a close hug. His breathy moans in their ear causes their dick to twitch and ooze what felt like limitless strings of pre that coat his inner walls.Then, he picks up the pace, twisting his wide hips and lifting his rear only to slam back down on Opus’s rod; his ass cheeks mold around it like a charging battery getting its juice. “T-This feels so good… Opus…” He says as his pleasurable bounces eject his own salty pre between their intermingling forms. Being so close to Ospy, the edging, shorter tinkerer got a whiff of a more virile may bell musk, causing them to rumble in bliss as the elf pounds on their cock with the fiery passion of a solar flare. They felt his fat, meaty scepter bulge with each bounce on their belly as it leaked and smeared and they just needed to taste it.The two exchange garbled messes of words as they grunt and groan, the love-drenched elf wiggling his hips to grind that razing rod to his deliciously sensitive prostate, each thrust a subtle tremor that he exuded from his body and radiated to his companion beneath him. Opus acts on instinct, matching their bodily movements to Ospy’s rhythm as he fucks himself with every flat thump. It feels like their milked tool drills and drills further into the elf’s warm, tender depths each time they bob their hips with stars bursting behind their eyes.It was too late when Osprey realized he was humping the gnome’s chest with his intense grind, for he felt the pressure of his body multiply, containing a burst he couldn’t keep down much longer rising past his whirling nuts.“Ospy… F-Fuck… I-I’m… real c-close…”“D-Do it… Cum in me… P-Please!” Ospy’s voice broke into a gurgling muddle of starstuff. His vision faded as he felt the thick throbs of his partner’s cock sinking into his sodden flesh just enough to anchor him with his ass planted squarely atop the gnome’s bucking hips.The heat of a supernova bloomed in the elf’s bowels as Opus’s thick load erupts, their tumescent, bulging wand casting the final spike of pleasure enough to push Ospy over the metaphorical cliff and face-first into a deeply satisfying climax of his own. Though the wizard’s canal muscles spasm and milk every last drop of the artificer underneath him, it’s the feeling of his white-hot geyser spewing comet after comet of jizz on their chest and face that causes the lust-brimming gnome to stuff his ass with every ounce of their fantasy. They weren’t thoroughly sated until a few minutes had passed and they finally regained their senses, drawn out of their blissful coma and returning to some semblance of reality.Exhausted, the elf embraces a shuddering Opus, synchronizing his breaths with the semi-conscious gnome and adjusting himself atop their still semi-rigid cock. “Fuuckk Opus… I feel it seeping from my ass…”With their rod still plugged in their crush’s anus like a bolt to a nut, the tinkerer sheds a tear, squeezing their partner’s back, “I-I love ye so much Ospy…”Osprey withdraws and collapses by his closest companion’s side, freeing the softening dick of the gnome. As he shimmies to cuddle them, they softly kiss—both their lips and the tips of their expended pricks. He hasn’t felt the rushing waterfall feeling of virile cum leaking from his pucker and soaking his thighs in such a long time. This time, he felt the newly made memories with his best friend that he’d never forget. He also felt the splattering of his elven spunk on Opus as their bodies mingled in a post-orgasmic stupor.“I love you too, Opus.” He said between pants, kissing their neck.After a while of riding their afterglow with their chest visibly rising and falling with each intake of air (and drips of wizard semen staining the earth below them), the Loregit inventor turned and asked “W-What do we oughta do now…?”“Hehe, there’s a few things, I would imagine.” Ospy’s smile was infectious. “We could clean up. We can return to stargazing. We could stargaze naked. I can carry you back to my flat and we could cuddle and drift off to sleep. We could pull an all-nighter like we used to and stay here and strum Twilight Memories for the last time. What did you have in mind?”Opus reminded themself of their best friend’s departure, causing them to sigh longingly. “What time’re ye movin’ out t’morrow?”The elf thought to himself, similarly suddenly aware that he’s departing and that he graduated. “Late afternoon, I think.” He massaged a strain from his butt cheeks, blushing when gnome cum drooled on his delicate fingers that he licked in his best seductive motion. After a quiet chuckle and a quick peck on the lips from the two, he continued, “the journey home is a long one, so it’s not set in stone, really; not like it matters if I leave one hour later than anticipated.”“Then… can we do li’l o’ all the above? I… I wanna be there when ye leave, Ospy…”“Of course, Opus. Now, should we clean up? I’m no botanist, but I don’t think elven and gnomish cum benefits the soil that much, hehe.”“Naw… not yet. This feelin’s more heavenly’n anythin’ else.” The gnome bit their lip while smiling.It was nice, though, and Osprey was secretly relieved that he could continue to ride the messy afterglow, cuddle their best friend at their spot for the last time, and watch the twinkling star-patterned night sky. Between the cutesy strokes of their post-coital embrace, the idle scratching of itches on unreachable parts of their bodies, and the pointing out of constellations near the Guiding Star, the two explored much of the sky for the next few hours as they had their own sexualities and love.It was also a time to process the tangled concoction of emotions Opus sifted through. The crush they had built up for their best friend over the year they spent staying at the College. The uncertainty of how he would feel about it, but knowing the regret that they would feel for not confessing before he departed. How the feeling of orgasming just couldn’t be described, no matter how much the romantic tales they read before tried to suggest otherwise. Had their sex been too intense? Had it been feverish from their pent-up lust and dreams overtaking them? Had Ospy indulged them too much? Was there anything he wanted to do, but didn’t get to for the sake of pleasing them? Was it over too quickly? Whatever the flaws were… it didn’t matter. It was perfect, they learned more about themselves and each other, and they were happy. And Osprey was beaming and smiling and kissy and the way his shaggy, curly hair covered his eyes and accentuated his freckles was hot and attractive.With a wave and a swirl of his wrist, the pudgy wizard of cosmos apparated a spectral towel that glimmered like the oranges and pinks of the ocean during the sunrise before them. In a single wipe the towel soaked up the crusted spunk that mingled on their fleshy frames, vanished into motes of energy, and floated upward. While evidence of their lovemaking might’ve been disposed of, their sweat and musk certainly lingered and stuck. “I s’pose that’s the third most favorite spell from yer minor?” Opus asked.“Heh, nah,” Osprey responded, feeling the smooth and non-wet surface of his skin again, “just your classic Prestidigitation.”Right. Because that spell had infinite applications.The red-haired mage extended his hand, helping the gnome on their feet. Gently, he guided them back to the telescope configured behind them, where he adjusted a few panels and mirrors to account for the sun’s rising rays. “So… what do you think the stars might think of us now, having bore witness to our romping?”“Askin’ the important questions,” the gnome laughed as they shifted the telescope to match the elevation of the horizon to get a view of the rippling waves battering the morning vessels soon to arrive at port. “Don’t reckon they’re thinkin’ any different o’ ya screamin’ fer me to cum inside ye than the time ye tripped over that stray book in’at secret archive when that sorcerer trapped me in a soddin’ anti-magic cage.”Memories flooding back to him, the graduate laughed from the gut from the lighthearted jab. “Heheh, well I suppose my ass got sore both times, huh?” He sauntered next to Opus and grabbed their rump, jiggling it for a moment and prompting the tinkerer to yelp in embarrassment. Then he snaked his arms around their waist and rested his head atop Opus’s as they adjusted a mirror to the side of the copper tube.“Well ye look pleased as a pig,” they said in response, angling the mirror to get a clear, zoomed in sight of the tranquil, smiling face resting atop them. Though with a smug look, they totally felt fuzzy and teeming with warmth, relaxing into their partner’s hug. A tiny fraction of them still believed that the next time they get a long, deserving rest, they’d wake up and remember this only as a dream—as if they spent the night with him, lying down on his bed at his apartment while their dreams were being molded and shaped by his dream magic.“As do you, friend.”With hearts open and honest, they spend an earnest, nude dawn enjoying each other’s company. Opus never thought they’d be open to expressing their deep bond with Osprey in such a naturist way. For sure they’d thought it’d quickly transform into forge of heated sex once more—not that they’d mind one bit—but other than a few occasions where they playfully toyed with each other’s genitalia, they felt like they were able to explore the memories painted on the canvas of their best friend in a non-sensual way. Ospy’s skin was chubby, soft and sweet; they just couldn’t keep themself away from nabbing his warmth for themself. How could anyone not love a body like his? It was perfect.For the last time while they were together, they retrieved their instruments from the gnome’s Bag of Holding. Opus’s banjo had immense meaning; their late friends helped them build it and Ospy was the one to teach them how to play it. The pinks grasping the underside of the gray passing clouds overhead provided a calm backdrop to their playing. It was odd, playing nude, but when they saw their elven best friend whip out their wooden ocarina and comfortably join with their classic duet, they felt at ease. Though they only played one song together, every strum and every breath emanated a bounty of emotions. The hopeful highs and lamenting lows of Ospy’s composition and knowing this may be the last time they’d play together fueled Opus to play slowly, their fingers moving on their own as the sounds of their crush’s woodwind instrument join to a crescendo of honoring reminiscence. They opened their eyes as the sounds faded and echoed, casting their gaze to the names of their late friends that they had carved on the banjo’s wooden rim. Finally, they sat there, downtrodden and frozen, mouthing the song’s title to themself. Twilight Memories of a Woebegone Wanderer.The elf hugged them and squeezed tight, setting aside their instruments. They talked about love. The wizard was curious about how Opus felt about their sexuality and what type of person they saw themself with. It would have been easy to stare at the golden growing sun and reply with “you,” but the inventor wanted to reflect and give an honest answer. Did they really think so many of the people they saw were attractive? Or was it some form of infatuation as a result of being sheltered for most of their life, their only idea of romance stemming from reading novels and books? Perhaps they were truly attracted to people they shared a bond with. Were they like Ospy in that way? They didn’t have a solid grasp on how their mind worked, and though they felt ashamed of that, the elf was quick to remind them that people change all the time. It’s not like the first draft of a gnome’s blueprints are necessarily their… ahem, magnum opus.Whatever the case, Ospy cited his confidence in Opus discovering a significant other should they choose to pursue for one. Their Itinere may be the most important journey of their life, but if their mother found the love of her life in the elemental realms of all places, then surely her children must be blessed with similar luck too, no? Besides, if all else, the two will surely meet again one day. Be it during their Itinere, after their Itinere and they’re declared the next Loregit family head, in 10 years, or even in 100 years, the elf will be there for the gnome and he will still love them unquestionably as surely as the Guiding Star burns bright.“A-Are ye sure I can’t come wit’cha?” The gnome mumbled, breaking the calm silence as they began breaking down the telescope into pieces in preparation to leave. They knew the answer, but they were hoping for that sliver of a chance that things were different.But things weren’t different. “Opus… You know I can’t take you along with. I sincerely wish I could, but you know my family wouldn’t allow that.”“I know…” They shielded their eyes from the growing light of the sun as the gnome dismantled the mirrors and fully depowered the magical glyphs on the side of the copper telescope tube. Never having to disassemble mechanical equipment while nude before, Opus made sure to carefully remove its bits and pieces to prevent any incidents revolving their own fleshy equipment.
Osprey held their hand, wanting to look towards the future. “Are you still thinking about that lead in Astoria? Their rift to the elemental realm of air is sure to be hiding a breakthrough with that light magic theory of yours.”The gnome nodded, retracting the tripod and taking in the autumn morning breeze. When the two friends finished dismantling the telescope, Opus haphazardly wiped a bead of sweat from their face, twiddled with their pierced ear, and looked at the array of organized components near their Bag of Holding. “Y-Yea. Well… I ain’t be needing the ‘scope’s company way’s I’m goin’.” Nervous, they scratched an itch on their neck, briefly forgetting that they were still naked from the night’s events. “Reckon ye oughta use it wit’ yer mission—wit’ the Guidin’ Star ‘nd all.”“Hehe, really? For me?” The elven graduate scooped up the tinkerer with their arms and pressed them to a warm hug, nuzzling their nose with his own through a toothy smile. “Thank you, Opus,” he looked at the complex components that he slowly learned to configure on his own this past year when the artificer eagerly demonstrated its workings, “I will cherish it greatly.”They couldn’t keep down a smile when it was their best friend that was happy, but something about being picked up and closely held sent tingly sensations that forced a reminder of their naked relations. “I… um, Ospy…?” They mumbled, feeling a tad awkward despite every bodily sense of them wanting to absorb this feeling to their skin forever, “a-as much as I fancy feelin’ yer body, I ain’t reckonin’ the College’ll like us strollin’ back in the nude.”A hearty chuckle from the pudgy wizard, “you might be onto something there.”The two retrieved their discarded garments, relieved that, for the most part, they were untouched by the bodily fluids slung around during their sexual commingling. After hours of gradually feeling comfortable nude, it felt odd to the young gnome when they pulled up their swirly, purple clothing and fastened their knee-high leather boots.As the two were packing up for the return journey, Ospy looked back at the earthy hilltop spot they spent so much time together, curling the edge of his mouth into a smile and feeling nostalgic for the memories they made. Pulling taut the strings to keep their detached sleeves in place, Opus gathered a parked mechanical Magnum down the hill under the shade of a tree, powering him to life by magically fueling the amethyst etherite crystal hovering between his twisted horns. They ruffled his foliage as he shook off a stray, sleeping bird that nested itself on the saddle during the night. “Nice to see ya again, partner,” they whispered as they double-checked for damage and tear on their brass yak companion.The elf approached, donning his white and blue loose robes with an inquisitive look to his face. “I had a thought.” He proudly announced.“Is it one o’ ‘em thoughts akin to where ya decided to add a whole dozen pages to yer thesis?”“Thankfully not!” He said, “remember at the graduation ceremony where they honored the ‘most academically inclined’ students from the major and awarded them superlatives? Where they’re traditionally meant to carry these titles for the rest of their lives?”The gnome nodded slowly, mounting their metal companion. They remembered the particularly strange titles that the professors awarded like “The Eye of Valencia’s Tomes,” or “The Warden of Atlea’s Pennant.”“Let’s give each other a neat title! One that isn’t superfluous and won’t be forgotten in a week from today. A name we could boast to the world and have the stars remember us by.”A personal title, huh? There were certainly other Loregit gnomes in past generations that wore prestigious titles like laurels. That piqued their interest. A title might give them sway over their siblings in their Itinere, too. And what better to have it originate from your best friend? “What were ye thinkin’?” They asked, their tone cracked with curiosity.“Seeing as you have the wanderlust of your family in your blood... how about ‘The Wanderer’?”Just like the song he composed for them all those months ago. “Just like yer song…” They said, immediately appreciating the meaning behind the title, “I like it, Ospy. Sounds like it’d fit right in me deck o’ cards.”They crossed over a large, winding branch as they passed by the woodlands on their way back under the Tree’s enormous shade, thinking of a title that would fit the aesthetic of their best friend’s mantle. Something to do with his astral magic—his dream magic—his thesis and now mission with the Guiding Star.There it was.Flourishing their inspiration, they took an exaggerated bow, “I, Opus Loregit, an esteemed companion o’ the recipient, grant him, Osprey Lorendiel, the budding title of ‘The Astrologer,’ may ye wear it wit’ pride.”They both laughed. “Hehe, I think I will wear it with pride, if you don’t mind!” Osprey draped an arm around an elated tinkerer, pulling them closer as they navigated the woodlands, “I expect to hear tales of The Wanderer while I’m pursuing my mission in the coming years.”“And I reckon I oughta hear stories of The Astrologer while I’m out there, followin’ the light o’ the Guidin’ Star.”Another cheerful laugh. In a fit of joy, the chubby wizard of cosmos pulled Opus closer, almost hauling them off their mount, and kissed them on the lips. Their cheeks flared in fiery red as any feelings of drowsiness from the all-nighter vanished immediately.“C’mon,” the Astrologer said, ushering to hasten their pace, “there’s a long day ahead of us. A flat to pack up. Professors to say my farewells to. Textbooks to return. I would love your company, Opus.”Opus looked at their best friend’s face. A face of pure happiness. A face that, despite having endured many ordeals and dangers hidden throughout the Livingwood College, still smiled. A face that comforted them through their grief and was there to support them. A face that revealed to them a type of deep, platonic love they never knew existed. A tear streamed down their cheek, and wordlessly, they uttered ‘thank you.’
An Orison of Hearth, Health, and Heated Sex
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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Hisham wiped the specks of dust that accumulated on his lover’s arm wrappings as he held him close to his chest. Judging by the numerous smudges and smears on the parchment, he gathered that his partner had struggled to find the right words when composing his letter. Although lost in the depths of the blue eyes of the shy man before him and absentmindedly stroking his white hair, he couldn’t help but notice the shabby and rickety room he found his newlywed in.The Elonian mesmer took into account the stacks of paper atop a ramshackle desk. Were these documentation papers? Were those cobwebs near the desk’s legs? In this tiny guardsman’s room, alit only by the licking of a new candle’s flame, it was obvious whoever was the primary occupant didn’t take much consideration into making their living space seem tidy.He didn’t want to break the embrace he held with his husband, nor to cease his playful strokes of his hair or feel the fuzz of his five o’ clock shadow, but he did. An excuse to wipe his dampened right cheek, he said. And stifle a sneeze.“N-No, but, I’m serious, love… This is a guardsman’s room,” Hisham started, taking a good gander around the unused space that seemed to span just about four beds-worth in width, “what are you doing here? The Golden Lion Inn should be around the corner, no?”Mindlessly scratching the itch underneath the monk wrappings around his ring finger, Sigmund averted his gaze in embarrassment. He was shorter and scrawnier than his younger husband… and, well, considerably less kempt, but it added to the ‘rugged handsomeness’ that the mesmer swooned over.“Hish, I was trying to say I’m only temporarily borrowing Figo’s quarters,” He said with an odd, but endearing mixture of rasp and softness, “the inn has… a tad too many people for my liking.” He wipes a developing bead of sweat from his brow before continuing, his eyes never meeting the perfect pink irises of his lover’s. “Figo is helping at the Sun Docks in Istan, so he lent me his quarters for a week… or so.”“A Lionguard? In Elona?”“With the harbor being rebuilt here, he was sent there to help with the increasing interest in emigrating to Kryta.”Hisham crossed his arms and leaned against one of the aged, wooden walls, similarly crossing his boots. Probably the only free space between floor and wall that wasn’t obstructed. He took another look at the tiny room, his nervous newlywed, and accidentally provoked himself a sneeze thanks to the dust. The lack of a fresh scent wracked his nose no matter how much he wiggled it and he silently questioned the quality of the candle his husband had lit.After a bit of awkward silence between the two—Sigmund fiddling with his hands—the darker-skinned, taller man removed his boots and plopped himself atop the only thing in the room not caked in pesky particles: the bed.“Want me to illusion up something better Simon?” The mesmer asked, his vocal timbre emphasized whenever he called his mate by his favorite pet name. “Maybe I could conjure a burly image of myself slowly stripping to his undergarments?” He laughed at his suggestion, “spice things up a bit!”Though he winked at the white-haired monk, he didn’t receive a response other than embarrassed muttering and a red face that could be easily mistaken for a sunburn. “Love ya, Simon, heheh.” He cheekily added after a pause to throw his arms behind his head to prop up the few untouched pillows.Sigmund’s expression calms down soon afterward, however, and as he sat beside his mate, he places a hand on his smooth ankle to feel his husband’s warmth once more. His lips scrunch up as his long-yard stare towards the moonlight breaking into the room from the tiny window became more evident every second. There was a lot more on his mind than the thought of seeing the love of his life strip down seductively—at least in illusion form.Hisham frowns, “worried that Sergio might turn you down?”Sigmund nods slowly.“You really think he’s going to deny us?”Sigmund shrugs, exhaling a pent-up sigh he held from his anxiety.“C’mon,” the Elonian said with a tone that implied that the answer should be obvious, “do I need to remind you of your—of our credentials again?”“I-I don’t know.”“Without you, an actual fallen god would have caused Nightfall and changed Tyria to be a desolate, nightmarish landscape!” Hisham says with a noticeable hint of pride. “If the Firstwatch doesn’t want to lend us folk to help build a homestead for us, then I figure Queen Salma might be more willing to listen to reason, yeah?” He smiles at the thought of living together in a permanent home with his lover near the cozy Bergen Hot Springs. Then, he remembers that he imagined living together with Sigmund the moment that the Ascalonian said yes to the proposal at the very same hot springs. That made his smile wider.The few years-older man scratched the same itch he had before, relaxed his shoulders, and sighed again. He slowly began the process of removing the wrappings around his arms and fingers, removing the spiritual weight he carried throughout each day of wearing them. “You’re right…” he mumbled as he found himself untying the gray rope cincture around his waist and lying down next to Hisham, habitually caressing his chest every time they were in bed together.“Ya think Kormir could... hmm, apparate a beautiful abode for us? Hahaha, now that’d be easy!”“Dwayna spare me…”“What was that, Simon?” Hisham smirked, playing with the ponytail his spouse wore, “I dunno, she probably had enough time to get used to the whole ‘new god’ thing. Why don’t you go ask her?”“Hish…” Sigmund said with the same voice he would say to a young child naïve to the gods’ workings.The dark-skinned man chuckled, sensations spreading to the cuddly monk, “some Yavas family humor for ya!” A curious look also spread to his face when he said that, “though, I suppose it’s Frostenwelde now?”The Ascalonian man shifts a bit, never having considered that thought before. “…It’s not required to change your name if you don’t wish it.” Pondering it more, however, he snuggles closer to place a hand on his partner’s chin, feeling the trimmed beard that he groomed regularly. “But I would be more than happy to offer a prayer and hold a ceremony should you do wish it, Hish.”"Just like that?"Sigmund plants a gentle kiss on the tip of his husband’s nose, the conversation relaxing him greatly. Though unexpected, the mesmer does manage to hold back a bellowing sneeze. The monk laughs quietly, his own face turning redder than Hisham’s whenever he tried anything romantic.“Then why don’t we have the ceremony now, love?”“N-Now?!” Astounded, Sigmund turned to get a good read of his beloved’s face. The look of confusion plastered on his own was a normal look for a mesmer doing their illusory tricks on foes, but usually not for one’s spouse.Was he prepared to do such a ceremony now? Does he remember the scriptures? What if he fumbles it? He hasn’t performed a prayer in this regard for years, especially not after the Searing and the Ascalonian Migration. If he slips up or stutters during the ceremony, would that incur Dwayna’s wrath? Would she do such a thing to someone so faithful?“H-Hey, Simon, you okay, love? You went silent.” It was more than that. Sigmund was curled up by his spouse’s flank, his fingers shaky. He was quickly turning scared and anxious, but Hisham’s reassuring rubs reminded him of the place they were in. A reminder that they were safe. The darker-skinned partner continued in a non-judgmental, loving voice, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if it helps, I’ll go through it with you.” Though it took a sizeable amount of mental effort at times, Hisham was more than happy to give his partner all the time in the world, especially if his patience calmed the monk and uplifted his cheery side. He deserved to be joyful over being sullen and stressed any day of the week.Although reluctant, Sigmund quietly agreed. The process shouldn’t be as stressful as officiating a wedding or mending a damaged soul, he thought. And if they go through the steps together, then any tiny mistakes are forgivable, right? What matters is that they both commit themselves to it, and that the vows they exchanged during their wedding hold stronger than a norn’s drive for trophy hunting and sturdier than a dwarf’s smithy.They made due with what they had in Figo’s dusty quarters. The ceremony called for a mirror, or at least a reflective surface of sorts. Luckily, Figo had a small, framed, disused mirror tucked away behind partially filled and discarded stacks of documentation. Hisham quipped about how the Lionguard must’ve enjoyed complimenting his own odd, parted hairstyle while “drudging” away at whatever paperwork he was unfortunately assigned to. After wiping the dust off the desk and angling the mirror atop to give the reflection enough light from the candle, the couple sat abreast once more on the edge of the bed, hands holding.Hisham gave a smug smile through the mirror that embarrassed his husband.It was awkward for Sigmund. Every time he performed a ceremony like this, it invoked memories of his first officiation. The monk spent a majority of his years under the somewhat ascetic tutelage of the abbot and abbess of Ashford Abbey in service to the goddess of life Dwayna. Because of the village’s close proximity to the beautiful sun-reflecting lake and the gorgeous sights of the autumn woodlands, many couples from all throughout Ascalon had their weddings at the abbey. Which meant name change ceremonies were also held there, and Sigmund was entrusted to oversee them. At least, until he accidentally mixed up the names of a couple with another that was scheduled for the next day.He isn’t 17 anymore, though. He’s nearly double that now. And he’s offering the prayer for his husband, who would most definitely see any slip-up as cute and endearing.“Hish?” He asked, seeking a final confirmation, “you’re not going to consign me to funeral service, are you?” Sure, Grenth is Dwayna’s son, and funeral service was a portion of his godly portfolio, but dealing with depressive death from a domain not of his deity felt dreary. It took a toll on him, especially after having to be the sole keeper of the graveyard near the Abbey for a year.The slightly older man received a comforting hug, the mesmer’s arms wrapped around from behind with his head resting on the other’s shoulder. They locked eyes via the mirror.“Promise,” Hisham whispered, “as long as you don’t run away and give me another heart attack, haha.”With no control over his arms thanks to the close embrace, Sigmund closed his eyes and began the prayer.“Beyond our names—beyond the sounds made to call us, the symbols used to evoke us—there is a soul. Pulsing with life, animated with perception and perspective, each soul is a blessing bestowed to us by the Five—err… Six Gods.”He looked around nervously, as if he committed an odious crime to incur the wrath of the gods. He began to stutter, losing his place in the prayer. The deathlike pallor of his face was stopped only by the calming words of his spouse. “It’s okay,” he said, causing Sigmund to snap out of his dazing stupor. Focusing on the hypnotic sway of the candle’s fire grounded him back to Tyria.After a deep breath, Sigmund continued. “Beyond our place, beyond what others call us, or what we once have called ourselves, the soul speaks its truest words.” The white-haired partner opened his eyes to look directly at Hisham’s in the mirror, the other still embracing him tightly.“And through the soul’s words, we understand the truest and most universal of expressions that humanity can experience—love. The desire to devote oneself to the health and hearth of another, be they the soul of a single person or the souls of multiple, is the purest reflection of Dwayna herself—of life.”Hisham smiled, nuzzling his face softly against his lover’s stubble.“As the Six may be called by many names, so we, who were brought into the world as their children, may too be called in countless ways. With the eternal bonds of matrimony unifying these two men, their souls speak the truest words they may ever express—its language one that the Six listen to—a new arrangement of sounds and forms, a new symbol to declare themselves that represent their future under one union.”The monk frees an arm and takes his lover’s hand with a tight grasp, tilting his head to similarly nestle against his. It felt like the tiny room strewn with roundabout parchments and emptied ink bottles faded into darkness and the only thing they could see were themselves.“I am Sigmund Frostenwelde. The light of Dwayna which resides in my soul illuminates the truest form of that label I can ascribe to it.” He slowly removes his wedding band and lightly places it in front of the mirror on the desk, the embedded, winged, blue sigil of Dwayna facing left, towards the center.He motions for his spouse to similarly say his piece, to which the Elonian man knits his brows and thinks for a good while, as if he were formulating a second verse to his wedding vows.“I am Hisham Frostenwelde. And the light of Dwayna that my soul expresses declares that this name, one I share with the man I eternally love, be the truest form of that label I can ascribe to it.” Sigmund blushes as the darker-skinned man follows suit and places his wedding band next to this partner’s, the embedded, winged, pink sigil of Dwayna facing right and towards the monk’s.Sigmund gathers magical energy that courses through his fingers on his right hand, warmth channeling to that area as residue cyan light gradually expels from his fingertips. He molds it to a tiny bead of bright light and directs it to levitate between the two wedding bands before continuing his prayer.“I, Sigmund Frostenwelde, will continue to bring love and light to all peoples—to strive for hospitality, courage, and vision so that I might extend the Six’s bright blessings to those around me. I do this with Hisham Frostenwelde, of this my soul speaks loudest.”“And I, Hisham Frostenwelde, will continue to pledge my being to bringing others peace, love, and happiness—be it with whatever means my magical talent allows me to. I do this with Sigmund Frostenwelde, of this my soul speaks loudest.”With that, the monk waves two of his fingers in a circular motion, causing the shimmering ribbon of warm energy tethered from his fingertips to the bead of magic to split in two. The ribbons pull on the orb and divides them into two perfectly sized, smaller beads, its iridescent colorization matching their respective wedding band sigil. They absorb into the rings, and the bands tug on the ribbon projecting from Sigmund’s fingers enough to sever the connection. However, fueled perhaps literally by the magic of love, the ribbon ties itself into a knot that flows freely through the space around it connected by the two rings. Its colors mix vibrantly, as if the vows they made during their wedding were augmented with an answered orison from the goddess of life herself. The ribbon dulls after a minute or two of silent observation, and it eventually becomes invisible to the naked eye, leaving the married couple to their own devices.Hisham chuckles and readjusts his embrace to be slightly less straining on his spouse. “So…!” He drags it out like a new prophetic revelation, “Messrs. Sigmund and Hisham Frostenwelde, huh? With a homestead near the Bergen Hot Springs? Aha, I quite like that!”The slightly-older man felt his dirtied white hair being stroked and his waist seized. “W-We still don’t know if Sergio—”“Shh, Simon. Don’t worry about that, love.” The mesmer’s voice had playful tones drooling from his lips. “Worry about that half-chub you’re sporting.”“E-Eh?!”Sigmund’s face couldn’t possibly get redder. But somehow, it did, and every time he thought about how to respond, his embarrassment intensified. He doesn’t resist when his drop-dead dazzling spouse rewraps his arms around the monk’s waist and teasingly massages his thighs, pulling him closer.
“Ceremony got you horny, love?” He said right before suckling on his lover’s neck and brushing it with a few frisky licks. Whatever he was doing, he certainly wasn’t helping the situation. Or was he? Hisham was sure he heard a stifled moan just now.The Elonian man ran his hands through his partner and scratched his waist and sides sensually, sending him shivers while simultaneously whispering in his ear with the same sweet-drenched tone he had seconds ago, “we never did consummate our marriage, you know.”The mesmer’s actions had nearly broken Sigmund, who stammered with the consistency of a tumbledown Dredge drill. His thoughts raced and time passed quicker than a mesmer’s disorienting hex. He was aroused. He couldn’t deny that. But why did the ceremony do that? It did do that, right? Hish wasn’t being seductive as usual? Would Dwayna get mad for ending such a prayer with a tad touch of titillation? No. Why would the goddess subject him to a lifetime of sorrow over the actual aspect of humanity that applies to her portfolio—love? That thought made the monk giggle.It was odd, hearing him giggle. His voice was a naturally soft growl that possessed this dissonant, rusty, harsh quality to his giggle. And it was a giggle alright. He can be self-conscious about his laugh—not many could tolerate that “quirky” character trait, as Hisham would put it, but it was because of that man that he became accepting of it.The laugh calmed him down a bit, causing the monk to smirk and cast aside most of his worries. “You… you want to have sex with me, Hish? Here? In Figo’s quarters?”“I dunno,” the smug smile returned to Hisham’s face as he prodded his spouse’s crotch with a couple fingers, his desires very obvious despite his words, “do you?”Stimulation clouded his thoughts, and all he could see in the mirror was the reflection of his husband rubbing the rapidly pitching tent that he grew. Where he would normally be attuned to the nighttime bustling sounds of Lion’s Arch at a time like this, all he could see now is the amorous look in his partner’s magnificent pink-colored eyes. In fact, they were more ensorcelling than ever, and like the ceremony they just shared, it seemed that this was a desire that both of their souls wanted to speak, a love they wanted to share. Hisham might be a mesmer, but no illusion can mimic the language of the soul.“No,” Sigmund responded confidently, a tone he used when shouting commands on the battlefield rather than one suitable for the bedroom, “I don’t want to have sex with you.”Hisham smiled slightly, understanding that their location might be too awkward for his spouse.But the Ascalonian man continued, his head tilting to face his husband’s and his hands caressing his reddened cheeks, “I want you to make love to me. Overpower me with your scent. Shove yourself inside—”He felt warmth and moisture on his lips. It was passionate; it was fervent. His lover squeezed his arms. He tasted the hint of strawberry wine he most likely had this morning. He felt the fuzz of his stubble press against the Elonian beard his partner groomed. He felt the deep moans pass from his husband’s mouth to his own as his hands struggled on finding a hold to grasp.Hisham’s tongue wandered against his lips, worming its way into his mouth. Dark and smooth fingers inched underneath his clothes, feeling every firm muscle they could feel. When his fingers had enough of the somewhat clammy physique of his mate, the younger husband launched his weight against him, his heavier mass easily overpowering him. The pillows broke their eager descent.Sigmund cried out in pleasure when their kiss was broken, looking up at the dominant and alluring man before him.The mesmer’s half-lidded eyes were telling, their pink irises the only visible portion of his face in the darkness of the room. “Don’t worry Simon, I’ll shove myself inside you so much that you’ll need me to carry you for the next week.”Nothing could have been more obvious a hint to how turned on Sigmund felt at that than the uncontrollable twitching of his maleness. He tried to hide it—focused his gaze on the mesmerizing pinks of his eyes and his fluffy brown hair, but if anything that made him ache for it with an even greater desire. That was Hisham’s cue to cup the naughty, covered member with his mouth and torture his priestly spouse, ever so slowly slipping off his loosened garb to reveal the stained smallclothes between him and his prize.He knew his husband to be an excited man when it came to intimate situations, but this was perhaps the fastest he’s seen him get primed and heated. His shaft was crying for an escape, but Hisham preferred to savor the foreplay and take stock in how his partner relished his strip dances. He knew just how to sway his graceful form to please Sigmund. This was the language of their souls, he thought, and they were understanding one other more with each “union” they held.Hisham clasped his hands together and summoned sparkles of purple light, their magical radiance overwhelming the tiny orange flame burning in the background and the lessening moonlight. The sparkles simultaneously highlighted the teetering particles of dust hanging in the air and erased them from sight. They inspired a warm breeze to sneak in through the window and circulate the room with Hisham’s copper and black-colored fabrics to flow in a dance.Like a magic trick, Hisham hid his hands behind his head, accentuating his toned chest and his armpits. When he did, the sparkles vanished. Moments later, however, Sigmund delightfully squealed at the unexpected touch of a pink and spectral illusion of his husband’s hand caressing his crotch. It felt tangible, and his stain dampened his smallclothes embarrassingly more when it sensually rubbed on the wet spot in a circling motion.“Eyes up here, love.” The mesmer said, wiggling a finger to float the illusory hand beside him. Suddenly there was another pink hand floating around him. Another blink, and then one more manifested, tugging impatiently on his attire. For the next dozen minutes Hisham relinquished control of himself to his spectral hands. And, like with a mind of their own, they guided his form and traced every limb to remove them of the clothes that obstructed his robust and sturdy frame. They twisted and pinched his large nipples, soliciting drawn out moans that caused the attractive Elonian man to arch his back and run another wanton hand to line his stomach and cup his nethers.Then, he leaned on top of his mate and their masculine bodies collided and rolled on each other. Sigmund got a whiff of that unique and arousing musk that oozed from his husband’s body whenever he got turned on from a strip tease. It was an impossibly blissful combination of sweet honey and earthly agarwood and knowing he was the only man on Tyria who had unfiltered access to it fueled a hidden side to him, one driving him into a lustful frenzy.A lustful frenzy that seized the back of his toned mate’s head and forced it down to taste every inch of his mouth with his curious tongue. Moans are exchanged, tenderness thrown out the tiny window, and pre-stained, bulging undergarments swordfight as they entangle themselves with each other. Were it not for the necessity to breathe, they would have perhaps spent several hours of the night during their unrelenting make out. But alas, they pull apart, short, desperate gasps filling the room.Yet, as they regained their senses, the two felt the distinct lack of smallclothes containing their manhood, and a happily leaky, circumcised shaft greeted an uncut, ebony cock with a sloppy kiss between tips. Devious illusory hands attempted to fondle with their resting ballsacks, but with their purpose done, their sparkling magic fades thanks to the snap of Hisham’s fingers. “Let me work my other magic on you, Simon.”Sigmund tried come up with a retort—he honestly did—but instead his body froze in excitement and his mouth lay silently agape; his lover flaunted his intimate expertise with a hand taking hold of his man meat and his thumb teasing along the shaft and around his coronal ridge. Every throb—every twitch of vigorous sensations erupting throughout his body was in his control now. Hisham gave his signature charming wink, then put his tongue once more to work, diving in to nipping and lavishly lapping all the areas of his Ascalonian mate’s fleshy frame that he knew so well. Every inch southward, from the earlobe, to the nipple, to the belly, produced an amplifying cry of pleasure that tonally begged “please, please lick my dick!”Lo and behold, Hisham’s lips found a new target, and his lean husband released a loud moan when thrills of electric satisfaction rippled throughout his body from newfound warmth surrounding his drippy member. An exquisite wonder permeates in the air as Sigmund’s sensitive meat becomes subjected to the lashing of diligent lips. There’s a proud little look on the mesmer’s face as he raises himself to steal a quick glance from the beautiful blue ocean of his spouse’s eyes before returning to coerce and steal another glob of his lover’s pre-seed. The monk’s hands mindlessly alternated from digging into the Elonian spellcaster’s shoulders and clasping at the bedsheets. At that moment, there was no greater desire to buck his hips upward and force his husband to suck all of his meat and seed, but the night wouldn’t have been long should he do such a thing. So he summoned all of his reserve strength to let the torturous treatment slide and not climax at any delicate lick. He was not one for sexual endurance, especially not of this caliber, but he made every effort to match his husband’s stamina.Hisham possessed the uncanny ability to sense his lover’s thresholds. When it came to moments like these, it was a great boon to him. But to the monk, the absence of a skilled tongue finding every sweet spot on his hot length and his body tingling as a result of the building pressure was a nightmare worse than anything escaping the Realm of Torment. The younger, darker-skinned man reassured his spouse of more to come and looked sexy while whispering it thanks to the strand of saliva breaking loose from Sigmund’s glistening pink rod to his bottom lip.Awfully pleased with himself for his unmatched talent to make his partner beg and secrete that virile, salty pre-seed, Hisham squeezed his lover’s ankles, lifting his legs and proposing a second act to their lusty performance. Though never an actor himself, the Elonian man remembered enough of his family’s traveling shows to give his Sigmund a full course narrative meal, an engaging story from start to finish. Judging by the lewd, dominant look crawling on his face, the rising action wasn’t merely a metaphor for his mate’s motivated meat, it was the marvelous moment of masticating his manhole.One slick stroke. One warm, swirling sensation that dragged from his pucker and stroked up to his taint and then his hairy nutsack. It was enough to cause Sigmund to melt into a manly mess, completely submitting himself to the whims of his husband’s antics, screaming and clutching his curly, fluffy hair. “Shhh, Simon,” Hisham started before resuming his spirited ass-eating, “I dunno about you, but I’d rather not wake up the whole barracks next door.” He says it with an almost disappointed look in his eyes, and some part of him wanted the world to know of their carnal lovemaking.Right now, the only exploring happening was his tongue poking and pushing past the ring of the sensitive pucker of his partner. It was a firm, yet gentle deep dive into his tunnel, a fully coated wetness that forced him to spasm and shake his legs. He moaned his lover’s name. He moaned it loud, pleading with him to delve further inside his forbidden place. “Hish—Hish please…” He wanted the climax of the story; the climax of his husband inside him, more specifically.Hisham’s face surrendered ownership of Sigmund’s anus, “Hold out for me, my love. We’ll get our wish soon.” The Ascalonian, sleep-deprived man felt regret at the cold lack of a loving tongue at his entrance. All for a whole three seconds before fingers began trailing the length of his taint, slick with saliva.Sigmund was always nervous about the pain of being anally taken care of. Sometimes it scared him soft. Every time, however, his husband transformed into a reckoning force of calm. He knew just the right words to convert the pain to waves of pleasure. He focused on his soul—the scent of his musk, and before he knew it, he felt the shock of two fingers pressing inside him. There was little pain as Hisham worked them deeper, and then soon enough his spouse’s knuckles were pressing against his rump. He had taken it all in, his senses blinded to the overwhelming echo of bliss washing over him. The squelching echo of the thrusts coming in hard and fast rumbled throughout the monk’s entire form.But there was little time to settle with this level of ecstasy. Sigmund was prepped, and once he finally opened his eyes, he saw just how needy his husband’s penis was—its foreskin glistening in the candlelight and drops of precum staining the bedsheets—all without a single touch of the mesmer’s own delicate, yet masculine hands. Hisham groaned, no longer able to hold himself back any further; he too recognized his building and lustful need to unite with his husband’s soul. “Alright, Simon,” he said between breathy pants, “let me position you on top of me. It’s gonna feel real good… I promise.”He rubbed the shorter man’s shoulders while softly detangling their sweaty, masculine mass, exchanging places on the bed and once more propping the abused pillows behind his back. Hisham whispered, assuaging any developing fears of this unknown intimate configuration to Sigmund, “it’s okay to feel scared, love. I’ll go slowly. And you can control how much of me is inside you too.”The white-haired spouse stumbles with his legs, unsure where to put them at first, eventually settling for straddling his partner. Their arms find each other and naturally pull in for a wet, sloppy kiss.“Like the taste?” The Elonian man winks, his half-lidded eyes inquisitive.Sigmund bunches his lips, his palate processing it, “tastes like ass.”“Your ass,” Hisham corrects. “C’mon,” he continued, leaning to nibble on his lover’s bottom lip, “I wanna feel your tight hole around my cock.”Hisham’s mentioned penis throbs against his husband’s lower backside; Sigmund reciprocates with his own saliva-damped rod throbbing on his lover’s belly. He didn’t entirely know how to do this, but there was one thing that dominated his attention: he wanted Hisham. He wanted to be his. His fears have evaporated, rising past the ceiling as he was gently uplifted and carefully aligned.And then, a warm thickness. A girthy push inwards and upwards, seeking the depths of the monk’s incredibly narrow passage. Sigmund’s breath quickens, but Hisham’s velvety grip convinces his teeth to unclench as he gradually descends on his husband’s needy length. The mesmer adjusts his weight to keep his spouse comfortable, but it didn’t help when his ebony cock fully hilts into him and twitches uncontrollably, causing both of them to moan inexplicably at their loudest volume.Maybe someone heard it. Maybe someone woke up to it; there was movement just on the other side of that faded wooden wall behind them. They didn’t care, not anymore. At least, they didn’t realize it as they subconsciously allowed their erotically overcharged minds to take over. The Elonian, drooling man rocks his hips and clings tightly to the man he called his, pulling him closer. Their tongues engage in war, their bodies flail, and their hands explore every crevice and every muscle they had. Hisham sneakily jerks on his husband’s sensitive length, passing a moan from his mouth to his own and squeezing a glob of slick pre that he finger-fed to a hungry Sigmund.
Like a paragon echoing a command to their allies, the sounds of sex filled the room, of Hisham’s black hips slapping sharply as he fucked with a desperate need. Of Sigmund’s soft, toned rump bucking and pushing to match the sporadic rhythm of being thoroughly bred. The mesmer knows he could conjure an illusion to enhance their passionate rutting—a return of the spectral hands, maybe—but the bliss resulted from how natural everything was. How he felt his cock hit Sigmund’s wonderful spot again and again with every thrust. How he felt his lover’s manhood twitch on his chest and smear its gooey precum on his pecs and nipples. These eruptions of ecstasy weren’t modified with magic. It wasn’t an illusion. It all came from them and the words their souls spoke to each other.The pleasure was far too much for the monk to bear. “I-I… H-Hish,” he whimpered, breathy moans filling their space, “h-harder! I-I’m almost—”The intense pressure snaps, and Ascalonian seed bursts in steady, thick streams, a few jets soaking a majority of Hisham’s face and chest. Sigmund’s mouth wrinkles into a wriggly, closed lip smile, heavily shuddering as his coinpurse emptied its contents on his husband. The lean lover cried with joy-packed moans as he trembles and hugs Hisham with the strength he had left remaining.Noticing his spouse’s face furiously flushing, clearly embarrassed by his messy climax, Hisham kisses and nuzzles him on the neck, reassuring him that he must have felt the best thing on Tyria just then. As he does so, he resumes the slow grinding of his hips, startling a spent Sigmund, though the monk happily takes more pounding against his wonderful spot. It’s not long before he starts bouncing on his lover’s turgid rod, stroking it with his inner muscles. His sweaty body meshes with the mesmer’s, “y-you… you smell so… fucking perfect.”That was it. Hearing Sigmund swear—hearing him swear for the first time ever in five years provoked a primal reaction. One of pride. One of ardent need.He floods Sigmund’s insides, shooting inside his narrow, clenching tunnel as he rears his head back and exhales the longest breath he ever took. The monk spasms, taking it fully and feeling the warm spunk seep out of his ass during the process, but it feels like an endless passage of time flows through them as Hisham’s delirious moans eventually break and shatter.Hisham’s unique, rich scent of sweet honey and earthly agarwood mixes with the blaring odor of their lovemaking that waft over their noses. Utterly weak and wobbly, Sigmund collapses beside his husband, faintly caressing and feeling the ivory spunk he spewed on his dark-skinned chest and dripping off his neck. It takes an indescribable amount of time to regain some semblance of energy in their delicious, post-orgasmic daze, but nevertheless they take things slow and cuddly. Cum stains the bed, but both men haven’t fully remembered yet that this room wasn’t theirs.The Elonian man, with eyes as pink as a young rose, is the first to speak after an hour in the afterglow, his voice one hundred per cent baked with love. “Did I hear ya correctly, Simon? ‘Fucking?’ Didn’t you… ahem, ‘cast away the swears of the common man’ as a folk of the cloth?” He grinned as he playfully untied Sigmund’s ponytail with a single hand and let his hair drape down over his ears.Sigmund looks to the side, “the soul wants what the soul wants, I suppose.”They kiss again with an intoxicating rush. The other of Hisham’s hands wander to his husband’s nuts and mindlessly caress its strands of white pubic hair, massaging the sack and feeling the feeling of recovering testicles. Tingly, sensitive shivers travel up the monk’s spines, accepting the feeling of arousal once more. “Haha, I’m real happy you felt so strong about it, my love,” the few years-younger man replied, a broad grin beaming on his face as the furnace of bodily heat that they shared felt as if another helping of coal was added.The couple isn’t quite sure how they got there, but they soon realize Hisham gently stroking the Ascalonian man’s penis back to full mast. The exhausted lover’s strained moans and melted body reinvigorating the darker-skinned man’s desire to pleasure him just a little bit more. Softly, Sigmund rested his head on his husband’s shoulders, his nose pressing into the other’s neck as every inch of his cum-slick dick was gracefully serviced with expert fingers knowing just where to rub and line.Once more, the sleep-deprived man’s cock freely dribbles, a fresh batch of pre coaxed from his maleness and glazing every one of Hisham’s fingertips. He lets Sigmund lick them with frisky sucks before resuming his thorough, glistening massage.Hisham thinks of a devious scheme. “How ya feeling, love?”"G-Good..."The black mesmer gives him a smug smile as his jerks quicken slightly, “wanna cum on me again, yeah?”Sigmund’s raspy moans responded with a vague “mhm.”“Then swear again.”“H-Huh…?”“Swear again, Simon,” he said with a pause to his wet mutual masturbation, “something like ‘fuck! Hish please let me fuck you even though I probably never fapped more than ten times in my life before meeting you but gods fuck I need my dick in your asshole so badly!’” He was clearly enjoying himself.The monk, on the other hand, was conflicted. Hisham’s warm, smooth hand stood still, despite his grasp still wrapped around his member. He was tense down there, that’s for sure, but he “swore of swearing” to have a closer religious connection to his goddess. It wasn’t even a scripture that mandated it, it was a personal decision he made peace with long ago. If he intentionally broke his mantra, would he disappoint Dwayna? Would it render the marriage and name change ceremonies invalid? He didn’t speak his mind initially, but the mesmer somehow knew what he was thinking about.“If you’re worried about the gods… I say we have them listen to us right now. Let us grow as husbands and speak what we want to speak. Most importantly, though, they’re going to let you splurge all over me again.” Hisham chuckles at the last part, but he couldn’t have been more correct, and it was the convincing that Sigmund needed.The white-haired man speaks quietly at first, buried with red cheeks against his lover’s shoulder, “I-I guess I could… try… f-fucking you sometime…”Despite hearing him perfectly, the mesmer goaded a louder answer, “what was that, Simon?”Sigmund’s shaft twitches, wanting to be touched again. “U-Uhh… F-Fuck me, Hish?”“You want me to fuck you? That wasn’t what you said before, love.” His teasing demeanor drenches every word with a drawl.“Hish, please…! Just… f-fuck! I… I need to cum badly.” The Ascalonian man squirmed in his mate’s hold, but Hisham heard what he wanted to hear. He resumes his stroking with a gradual buildup in speed, kissing his mate when he moans as a result of it, and does his best to fully milk him of his second serving. That same feeling of pride stirred within when he heard his partner shout an expletive in ecstasy. He knew he needed more of it.The monk lazily thrashes his body in rhythm to his mate’s motions, fucking his hand while the mesmer reaches around with his other to churn his balls. Wet squishing sounds fill the air as Hisham’s hand was progressively more moistened with his spouse’s pre-seed and saliva, his fingers fondling every vulnerable throb.Hisham caresses Sigmund’s cockhead with wreathing motions using his thumb, spurring his slimy shaft to bulge with an incoming burst. Overwhelmed, the monk clenches on his mate as his senses briefly darken and he’s sent over the edge with a firm squeeze, riding the thoroughfare down another blissful, orgasmic alleyway. Yet, the burst wasn’t as a powerful propulsion like when he was taking a girthy dick up his anus and riding it intensely. Rivulets of Ascalonian jizz envelope the mesmer’s hand as it trickles down his manhood, his partner even more musky and sweaty.His writhing dissipating, Sigmund’s limbs lose their strength, and lifting them requires more endurance than the monk could muster—it felt worse than the aftermath of a life-or-death encounter with a volcanic Elder Dragon’s champion. Regardless, Hisham savors the taste of thick, virile cream—it tastes better the second time coming.When the Elonian spouse began to ruffle his partner’s hair, however, he realized that Sigmund fell fast asleep. That was the fastest he fell asleep after an intimate escapade, he thought.From the wedding bands still facing each other on the desk, to the mirror having witnesses their sensual, passionate consummation, to the wax candle partially eaten by the flames of love, everything was perfect. Hisham forgave his husband for running away in panic days after their wedding. He thanked Figo for lending his husband his quarters for a week to reflect in quiet and for providing him a safe space. He felt relieved for the ceasing of the shuffling behind their wall.He thanked Dwayna for guiding Sigmund to meet him—to rescue him—to help restore his memories—to help reunite him with his family—and for falling in love with him.He also thanked her for the wonderful sex they had tonight. And prayed for a long life together near the Bergen Hot Springs as the rest of the night passed by in a blur and sleep takes them both well into the morning.
Pages of a Storybook
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“Why’d you disappear from me like that? I was afraid I lost you.”
“H-Hish!”
“Really? I thought you… that you ran away! To Beetletun! Or… or even further west!”
“Whose sleeping quarters are these? Simon… This is a guardsman’s room.”
“Hish...”
“Lion’s Arch is still recovering from the White Mantle raid. Couldn’t you have just rented a room at the inn?”
“Hish, this is Figo’s—”
“Simon, we just got married a week ago. Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”
“Hish, please hold on a moment…!”“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”“I don’t—I felt overwhelmed. There was so many people.”
“It was our wedding Simon.”“A lot of folk kept asking us things. So many questions. ‘When’s the honeymoon?’ ‘Were you inspired by Kieran’s wedding?’ ‘Does that mean the heroes of Tyria are quitting?’”
“I don’t know how to answer them… Why did you invite everyone?”“Simon. Sigmund. If I could have, I would have filled Nebo to the brim with people to attend our wedding. You know that, love.”
“You defeated the undead Vizier in the gods damn Realm of Torment. You had died in Cantha and then returned to life to kick Shiro Tagachi and his plague in the ass. You rescued me from Varesh’s demons, helped me recover my memories, find my missing family, and even entered into the Realm of Torment again to destroy a god!”
“Do I need to mention the Mursaat? Or the Great Destroyer?”
“Hish—”
“My husband—the man I love—sometimes I feel like I could blink and lose you to the pages of a storybook.”
“You rallied thousands of people to gather their courage and make a stand. Your heart reached to hundreds more. Your allies—our allies placed our unwavering trust and loyalty to you. And you led them to achieve the peace we needed in Tyria.”
“So… yes. Our allies—our friends care about us. They care about you. They want to see you happy. When I told Mhenlo my idea about proposing to you, he was so delighted!”
“Y-You told Brother Mhenlo?”
“He praised Dwayna over a dozen times for answering his prayers.”“…I know how important having our friends and family there was for you.”
“It was nice."“But...”
“No buts, Hish."
“I would have preferred a secluded place. Perhaps getting married alone. In front of the same Statue of Dwayna, maybe. Yet… being with you is all that I could have asked for.”
“Gwen suggested that, didn’t she?”
“The getting married alone part? Hah, yes, she did. She knows how much people can scare me.”“Thank you.”
“Eh?"
“For one, not breaking down into tears immediately when we exchanged our wedding bands.”
“I’m sor—”
“Shh, Simon.”
“Second, for braving the ceremony. For letting me plan the entire occasion. For trusting in me to do that.”
“I know you need your moments to cool down… Just… just tell me next time you’re going to vanish from a crowd, okay? I could go without the heart attack of a missing husband.”
“I’ll try.”“Have you been writing here, love? What is this?”
“Hish, w-wait…!”Dear Sergio,
Dwayna has guided me through a multitude of trials and tribulations. She has led me on a path to reignite the light for many, and for that, I am ever grateful to continue to be a conduit of her will.
I feel the breeze of change coming from Cantha, and such vibrant growth calls for new heroes willing to make that important step in their journey. If I were younger… and not married, I would perhaps heed that call, for Dwayna would likely fear for her children’s health and hope for their safety.
But over five months ago I acted as Queen Salma’s herald in escorting Kryta’s people to shelter and aided in the defense of Lion’s Arch against the White Mantle. And on that fated day, Dwayna blessed me with my thirty-third birthday. I still vividly remember the Searing of my home eight years ago and my fate intertwined into healing the lives of many.
So today I must write to you that I intend on shifting perspective. I want to enrich my husband’s life and establish a new home so that we can settle down. Permanently.
Firstwatch, I have not asked much, but I pray that this letter finds you in good health and in good conscious to lend us a few strong Lionguard to aid us in the construction of a new home in Bergen Hot Springs. Its waters are beyond rejuvenating, and I wish to refresh its lands as a safe stop for pilgrims of all kinds along with my husband Hisham.
Yours sincerely,
Sigmund Frostenwelde“I-It’s… it’s not the final draft…!”
“Is this true Simon?”
“I…”
“Sigmund...”
“Should... should I…? I wanted to r-revise it before delivering it. I could discard it.”
“Bergen Hot Springs?”
“You… you proposed to me there. It’s really meaningful for me.”
“No. Don’t discard it.”
“Huh? Hish, are you crying?”
“N-No, of course not! Hahaha, oh my Simon! It’s perfect! I’d love to spend the rest of my days there with you!”
“Every day that I wake up to see your beautiful blue eyes is a day I know I can tackle with all my might!”
“Hehe, oh, you.”
The Coming Storm
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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“Beloved, are you quite all right? You did not call me to your quarters just to lose yourself in the ocean of my eyes, I say.” A grin spreading across Tekēhu’s features, the large marine godlike waded closer to his captain. The smell of ocean on his blue skin and the residual droplets of water trailing behind his tentacle-like hair are an all too familiar aura to the Watcher of Caed Nua. One that reminds him of his mate’s presence and one that reminds him of his purpose in the Deadfire Archipelago.The Resolute teeters and shifts slightly, a given thanks to the troubling outskirts of ocean just on the doorsteps of Ondra’s Mortar. The blackwood hull outfitting the dhow may make it one of the most resilient ships on this side of Eora, but the never-ending violent storms of the Mortar earned its name by swallowing the most stubborn of captains who failed to bend to its wrath.It didn’t stop the Watcher from keeping his gaze locked to the black pits of his mate’s eyes.“Ekera, it must be relaxing to gorge yourself upon the sight of Ngati’s chosen every once in a while.” Though the words were said with a hint of playfulness to them, Assadin couldn’t help but miss them escaping from the blue man’s lips, the intense, yet distracted stare he possessed almost reminiscent of his soul-reading.Knitting his brows and sensing the Watcher’s deeply hidden anxiety, Tekēhu took the empty wooden seat beside his beloved, letting his hair drape down with a moist squish. “I’m sorry, Tekēhu,” the Watcher said, his distracted state washing away when two large, teal hands clasped his own on the chair’s arm rest.“All the powers of the Deadfire—godly and not—vie for our attention… and sometimes I wish I had the balls to tell them that they’ve no idea the petty shit they’re doing is harming all of us,” he continued, releasing a sigh that sounded like he was holding in for quite some time, “Rav… I miss him, that snarky asshole.”“I say,” the watershaper began, a verbal tic he retains from his Huana upbringing, “I have heard of this past lover of yours. From your own lips, no less! Should I be jealous, hmm?” The marine godlike tips his head to the side and smirks, though it hides a hint of jealousy and vulnerability. Though the two have been together for just over a month at this point, neither of them have been able to spare the time to share a private moment, away from the ruckus of the raging seas bellowing below them.Focusing on the planks that build his ship’s floorboards, Assadin lets loose another heavy sigh, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sea-imbued warmth of Tekēhu’s hands wrapped around his own. His mind wanders outside the tight confines of the captain’s quarters, beyond the bookshelf, the ragged linen bedsheet, and the worn, broken statue head of The Steward towards the vast expanse of the ashen Black Isles in the south and the horrors beneath it.Where he first heard of Hiravias’s whereabouts since their breakup.After running through the same nightmares in his mind of the moment he discovered his farewell note, he snaps out of it, shifting his attention towards the patient druid and re-attuning to the slight dampness of his quarters and the creaking of the crew below decks. He loses himself briefly within the concerned expression of Tekēhu’s eyes before swiftly replying with a low voice, “He—Hiravias… taught me to awaken to the primal energies within my soul, to spiritshift. How to take nothing from folk who fancy themselves trying to exploit my… visions; my Watcher-ness.” Assadin chuckles, as if this nature weren’t already apparent to his boyfriend.A light sense of scrutiny washes ashore amongst the duo, the godlike drawing his arm across his nose with his dark eyes squinting. “I must say, when the seagulls whispered upon my ears, I thought it unusual to imagine the absence of your wonderfully witty demeanor. Friends Aloth and Edér speak of times where my beloved’s disposition was too candid for his own good! Unabatingly so!”Assadin wipes a forming tear and balls a hand into a fist, staring into it as if it were a divine decree. “I guess that cocky runt rubbed off on me during the four years away from Caed Nua… in more ways than one.” He winked at that last phrase, eliciting a quiet laugh from the hunky fish man to his left.“Take care, captain,” he says between breaths, “for the son of trickster Ngati does not wander far from his mother’s ways. I may just feel compelled to show you how a watershaper such as yours truly rubs off on his lover.”The two surrender their evening to each other, drowning in conversation. Their sweet embrace, laying abreast atop the now water-stained bed, filled the air with the overpowering scent of ocean among their soft kisses. With the flick of a dark wrist, Assadin dimmed the purplish arcane light dancing about within its lantern, leaving only the faint glow of Tekēhu’s hair tips illuminating their quarters. It provided a sexy overcast over the marine godlike’s face, where there were only short moments throughout this time where the Watcher had paused his gleaming smile.Minutes quickly passed to hours. Assadin often found himself assaulted with numerous diversion attempts and subsequent “surprise” kisses on his cheeks. While he reeked of fish, he kindly returned the favor by regaling him with tales recounting the absolutely famous phallic symbol for all to see at Periki’s Overlook: the Pillar of Liquidity. Not his best work, according to the watershaper. In fact, the heavy, stormy rain just outside gave access to the perfect canvas of which Tekēhu could shape his magnum opus… though he and the captain were too busy exchanging spirited banter to do so.Knots of tension and stored stress were lifted from the Watcher’s shoulders when he vented about Hiravias’s departure. How he screamed at the Oracle of Wael within the deepest depths of the god’s forgotten titan body to give back that snarky orlan. How he still doesn’t understand what Wael might—or might not—know that drove Hiravias to venture alone and just… leave him. How he woke up in his tent alone with nothing but his smallclothes and a farewell note in a treacherous jungle. He still kept the note, and he read it, word for word, to a teary-eyed Tekēhu, who vowed to comfort his captain with promises of keeping his heart reserved for his ocean folk partner.Snuggled close to the large druid’s chest and idly trailing his cool fingertips across his pecs, the Watcher describes the worldly, positive experiences he’s had with his crude, yet vibrant and lovable ex. He gestures at the map on his desk, a slightly soggy, but well-traveled parchment marked with points of interest throughout much of Eora; sketches composed by both the Autumn Druid and the Watcher. It was one of the relics that was saved from the literal upheaval of Caed Nua. One marking piqued the watershaper’s interest: a region found around The White that Wends. As curious as a tuna can be like, Tekēhu inquired about its origin with his eyes widened and his embrace tighter.The Watcher pointed to the scar over his left eye, nothing more at this point than a fleeting, bittersweet memory. “Got a bit too excited,” he said, tracing over the scar’s vertical length with a finger, “forgot how clever creatures needed to be in order to survive in my homeland.” He shies away before finishing, “was maybe… a week after I spiritshifted for the first time.”It made the druid beam with excitement, “Ekera, it adds character! Not many can claim to persist in the Beast of Winter’s realm like the sturdy pale elves. I say, they must have learned a thing or two from the tenacity of the Huana.”“Was that a subtle jab against Vatnir?”They both laugh.“Though I much prefer calling you my beloved rather than the ‘Duskspeaker.’” Tekēhu presses the tip of his moist nose against Assadin’s.“And I fancy you my blue topaz man.”A blue-tinged blush rises to the watershaper’s face as he looks away, fluttering with embarrassment.“Captain, it is quite unfair to use that old trick against me!” The cool-colored godlike breaks away from their bedside cuddle, brushes over the shirtless Watcher, nearly trips over his tossed leather armor, plants his hands on his hips and finally pouts. The bioluminescent glow from his tentacle hair pulsates with a heart-racing pace, intentionally drawing attention away from his front. Assadin wears a smug grin as he felt a bulging package pass by during his partner’s rushed getaway.“Curse you for exploiting my beautiful imperfections, Assadin…!” His poor attempts to hide his growing erection from the Watcher’s shrewd choice of phrases betray any bashfulness he may have had. The larger man may have never been modest, but usually he was the one to guide others to their fates as their savior. Never had he been the one to have been invisibly steered.Still, this new feeling, although familiar in the sideways sense of the godlike’s prior sexual games, has inexorably turned him on.With puckish gait, Assadin approaches behind Tekēhu with delicate vigor and hugs him, causing the latter to wipe a stray bead of moisture from his brow. “I say, flattery is my first language, but I did not expect to learn a new phrase.”Like a swivel of a cannon, Tekēhu spun around and lifted his beloved off the ground. Although initially startled, the Watcher had no desire to prevent the flurry of kisses from the handsome fish. They spent a few minutes exploring the insides of their mouths with their tongues like dowsing instruments. Their abs pressed against each other, and the watershaper’s aumaua physique provided the strength to gently lift up the Watcher without discomfort.A surge of lust overcoming him, Tekēhu pushes Assadin atop the captain’s desk, transforming its layout into a ramshackle mess. Reports, provision orders, maps, and tomes lay astray with heavy thuds as they fell to the floorboard. Despite this, both men had thorough tastings of each other with Assadin nearly choking on the overwhelming tang of salt water. Amidst their make-out, he reached behind the godlike’s head and grabbed a handful of his hair, causing a groan to pass from Tekēhu’s mouth into the captain’s. The slimy feeling of Tekēhu’s hair tentacles contrasted firmly with the rough, matted texture of the Watcher’s as they both toyed with each other’s hair in between their fingers absentmindedly.There was a knock on the door, “Hey… Is everything alright with you, Watcher? I heard something tip over in there.” The gruff and concerned voice of Edér sliced through their action and froze the two in place. Tekēhu raised a brow, subconsciously deciding whether to invite the built Dyrwoodan war veteran for a surprise threesome or not.Before the fish could speak, Assadin nervously pierced through the awkward silence, “I’m okay, Edér.”A minute passes before either of them ease their tensions and relax their shoulders with the creaking of wood below deck. What had previously tightened pants had now gone looser, at least for the Watcher. He noticed the pitching tent in the druid’s watershaper robe, clear as the bright prize lure of his tackle box. Of course, it was easy to see—its bioluminescence radiated more intensely than the tips of his hair when blood rushed down there. If wearing robes made of partially transparent fabrics was the godlike’s intention, it sure won over the captain.“Assadin,” Tekēhu starts, his look, although clearly an expression representative of his carnal desires, is simultaneously deadpan and affixed to his captain, “we could die tomorrow, and no matter what Ngati’s son may think, he cannot perish these thoughts.” He continues after a short pause. “Ekera, I am not my mother’s son if I cannot discover Ngati’s covenant on Ukaizo!”He tugs on the Watcher’s shoulders with reckless abandon, showing desperation with each watery spray of words and a glistening in his eyes, “But if… if I cannot share a sacred union with the greatest man of my dreams before my mother’s intentions reveal themselves tomorrow, then may the alpha predator of the seas consume me as their insouciant prey…!”Upon realization of Tekēhu’s intent, the Watcher’s face turned beet red and his vision blurred out everything but the towering man in front of him. “A-And I thought I was the mystic…” he whispered without a care to his tone.“C-Captain…!” The marine godlike shakes his head as if to expel any betraying look of anxiety. His bulbous hairs squish about his neck as he exhales a heavy sigh. “To hope for a partner… greater than myself… the only man capable of such an impossible feat is you, I say. Ekera, my needs are insatiable, but I must… I must lay them bare before my beloved.” His feelings a mixture of appeal and worried hopes, he hesitantly clasps his hands together, every second of waiting for the Watcher’s response another year-long stretch. His lips purse together and his brows furrow deeper than he’d like, but right then and there he conveyed his true feelings.“You don’t need to convince me, Tekēhu. Now quit your worrying and fuck me already.”The druid was stunned with what he heard. His first instinct was to faint in disbelief, and the presence of his captain unknowingly stirred his nerves, but he clears his throat and shakes his head. It only takes one person to completely change your confidence about everything. To Tekēhu, the Watcher was this person. Nevertheless, an invite was an invite.Nearly impatient to experience the fullest extent of his boyfriend’s junk, Assadin begins to unfasten the rough leather belt around his waist, but is swiftly halted by a naturally wet hand on his wrist and a half-lidded look on the watershaper’s face. “Forgive your handsome shark, but I say we shall not flood your quarters with our rightful antics.”“Ha! If you could flood my cabin with barrel loads of your cum, I welcome the challenge.”The absurdity and the thought of imagining such a sight excites the marine godlike, but he cranes his neck and gestures towards the side door—to the outside private balcony on the stern of The Resolute. “What say we take our harpooning… outside? While I would take great pleasure in shaping the successor to the Pillar of Liquidity with a saltier palette, I say I have a better arena for this sea anemone.”Without giving him much chance to respond, Tekēhu grins and once more and lifts his beloved off his two feet. Instead of embracing him, the watershaper cradles a hesitant, but curious Assadin with his strength and gently leads him through the side door and covers him from the sudden shift in environment with as much of his mass as a mother would her son. A lightning strike pops their ears just as the stormy rain batters the both of them. Any crevice on both their bodies became coated in a layer of furious sea and the high waves rocked The Resolute in a more observable way. Though he winced from the rain in his eyes, the Watcher placed complete faith in his boyfriend and greeted the druid’s open expression.Ondra’s Mortar raged on with the clouds black and the rain heavy as hail, a constant and unrelenting downpour. The Watcher’s ship may be stationary as best as it could be, but the both of them felt the uneasy sway of Ngati’s Storm combined with the lingering heat from the volcanic chain of islands of Magran’s Teeth behind them. Waves batter against the blackwood hull of the vessel like tsunamis would batter the tiniest islands and swallow them. Yet the ship holds and Tekēhu exudes an aura of safety as he softly releases his hold on the Watcher.Then, the watershaper presses his captain against the wooden wall between the quarter’s two chain-linked windows. A wide grin plastered itself on his face and the glow on his bodily features radiated the familiar and cool, faint light that pierced through the unending rain. Tekēhu’s damp, masculine frame oozed with a sense of warmth, preventing the freezing torrential showers from buffeting the lovers. Their lascivious night was not to be interrupted now, and the druid’s watershaping magic saw to that, warding off the most voluminous of water from drowning their whispers and passionate kisses.
He cups the Watcher’s groin with his large hand, coercing a groan from the white-haired battlemage as he examines the waterlogged, half-undone beige breeches. “I am eager to close around stimulation,” he murmurs in his captain’s ear, his other hand lightly stroking the mystic’s beard.“Show me the skill of a hazanui and the might of a whaler, my blue topaz man.”The godlike’s fingers find the dark-skinned Watcher’s nipples and grabs a charming hold of them. Assadin’s resolve was noteworthy, but even he couldn’t withstand the sensations from a dominant aumaua. His breath quickened, but his eyes didn’t waver.“Ekera, allow me to temper the storm to suit our whims, captain…”With each sharp breath Tekēhu released, its mist took form in arcane motes of cyan. As soon as they appeared, they disintegrated, their sparks carried away by the mild wind. The Watcher raises an eyebrow, but soon the rocking stops, and the sounds of waves cease to assail the ship. Though the rain doesn’t stop, the duo begin to hear muffled chatter indoors about these new developments. With a naughty smirk, the druid resumed his hold over the mystic’s chest.But something was off. Assadin felt a needy tug at his breeches, but not from the familiar hunky man before him, it came from below. “Tekēhu…?” He said.“Calm, I say,” the watershaper spoke, as composed has he preached, “I merely extended our invitation.”Knots of clouded, stormy water emerged from the ocean, as if having a mind of their own. Despite the state of their form, the bulbous, tentacle-like entities slid underneath the battlemage’s trousers and undergarments, finding their way to their prize.Assadin closed his eyes, feeling a substantial, overwhelming whetting to his partner’s sensual tricks. It wasn’t Tekēhu who was stroking every inch of his sack and drenching his smallclothes—no, it was him… it must be. He glanced down, finding his crotch exposed to the sea of a man before him with his garb removed. Like a hungry fish, the druid licked his lips and submerged himself to the Watcher’s half-throbbing tool like prey to a lure.The gods may have been constructed by an eons-dead society, and they may even be watching them while they await the Watcher’s foray into Ukaizo—but gods did that feel amazing. There was no point to contain himself anymore, not especially when his lover maneuvered his tongue to explore every damn inch of that rod, pleading with it to stand at full mast. And that it did. Tekēhu’s natural lubrication coated the mystic’s every bit of flesh that it could find, saliva dripping en masse when the watershaper bothered to break from the cocksucking to breathe.It was his conjurations that did the Watcher in—that forced him to moan in bliss. All while leaning against the column behind him for support, the Lord of Caed Nua had his firm butt cheeks spread, his coinpurse fondled with, and his thighs massaged. Assadin dared to open his eyes, and yet despite the lack of a dick-gorging pause for longer than a second, Tekēhu had a distinct lack of robes covering him. The druid’s large, tapered, glorious, and faintly glowing prick plopped and revealed itself, slightly touched by his own liquid summoning as they tossed his clothing atop the wooden railing of the balcony.A limp smile crawls on the Watcher’s preoccupied face as the godlike effortlessly gyrates his jaw and sends sensational vibrations throughout the pulsing penis housed in his mouth. The drenched watershaper cools himself as he rotates between sealing his lips against his captain’s nut sack, worshipping his testes, and deviously beaming as he teases the tip of his beloved’s tool with his lengthy cyan tongue. Every time he pulls away he exaggerates the wet popping sound that emanates from his mouth as if he released the entirety of the Watcher’s cock in one motion.Although he’s pleased with pulling his captain’s foreskin down and wrapping his lips around his cockhead, he lusts for more than a sloppy slurp of all the pre-cum his Watcher could muster. Assadin wobbles from the overload of touch all throughout his body, and it is right then and there that Tekēhu’s ministrations suspend. The flexible water tentacle-like conjurations disperse into a deluge that soaks them briefly. Noticing the Watcher’s explicit enjoyment but not wanting him to slip from the rain, the druid suggests a second stage to their coupling.The mystic didn’t even need to think, agreeing without question while regaining his breath.Drawn to the Watcher’s deep voice like a squid attracted to light, Tekēhu shifts his boyfriend, face to wall, and intimately strokes his slick and glossy backside. His tongue pores over the seasoned muscles of the veteran, inspecting each scar and healed cut from the last six—no, seven years of his life. The watershaper’s licks along indiscriminately, a distinct feeling amid the licking of the watery tempest of Ondra’s Mortar. He reaches to the dark-skinned neck of the Watcher, where he suckles flesh as he would his lips, plopping his kisses and soliciting appreciative groans.Tekēhu gently cups his captain’s right pec with a heavy, webbed hand, relishing the warm-blooded energy coursing through him. At first the Watcher responds by reaching behind with his left hand to caress the slick fish’s arm-fins caring for him, but is immediately shushed with sweet whispers and a prodding, aching prick probing his entrance.Silence blots out the steady flow of rain. The Watcher is no stranger to rough, spiritshifted rutting, but tenderness was something he craved. Something he missed.“Y-You’re a damn tease…”“I say, what was that you said, captain?” Tekēhu tugged playfully on the mystic’s bedraggled ponytail while continuing to poke his anus with an excruciating and unpredictable rhythm. The brawny aumaua’s chiseled chest rubs on his back, and he could feel every watershaped, toned muscle slide to and fro.“Fuck… Tekēhu,” Assadin yelped, a hot sting spreading from his tight butt as a result from a mischievous godlike’s smack, “your captain orders you to f-fuck him.”He slaps the Watcher’s other cheek and kneels to get an underside view of the magnificent loins in front of him, a savage grin accentuating the glow from his hair tips. “Ekera, I can suck, if that is what the captain’s heart pleads for…”“I didn—”The battlemage’s words were struck down by his own loud moan when a sloshy tongue ravaged his anus, tasting every last drop of musk his hungry mouth could fit. “Fucckk, w-wait…” He says despite the ravenous tongue poking inside and the hunky druid it’s attached to making deliberate suction noises. Once more wobbly, Assadin grits his teeth and submits to the rush of a certain slickness exploring his rectum.The sensations paused when the druid retracted his consumption.“Hah… Oh you sly bastard…”But Tekēhu wasn’t done. The mystic’s entire body clenched taut when his lover’s tapered blue cock aligned with his slippery pucker and pushed in without resistance. He allowed his captain but a moment to adjust for his obscene, but tolerable girth as the Watcher’s mouth went agape in a silent shout.There was no warning as he pushed his fish meat deeper inside, covering the Watcher’s mouth with his right hand to catch the steamy moans he craved for.He grinds. He grinds hard and fast with the gradual buildup of a lightning strike—that is to say, none. The captain’s anus strains as Tekēhu’s cool pre-cum soaks his insides and throbs with an unstoppable and uncontrollable mind, as if Ondra’s Mortar had manifested into a mighty leviathan to rival that of the rampaging adra colossus. The druid breathes heavily on Assadin but takes care to lift his left leg to ease the opening strain of his boyfriend’s stretched asshole.With each masterful thrust the battlemage endures he battles the desire to unload his seed this early on. The night will not end just yet. The momentum alone from every forward lurch causes Assadin’s anus to stretch taut, and when his lover finally buries himself hilt-deep, he nearly slips. His hard, sleek chest collides with the wooden outer wall of his quarters, leaving his white-colored chest hair entangled. Nevertheless, the Watcher’s ebony member continues to furiously throb and thump, flinging increasing amounts of pre on himself that washes away the moment afterwards.Tekēhu’s writhing, bulbous cock savors the fleshy walls that milk it, every fold and wrinkle bumping and grinding against the smooth and tapered head in a way that has his beloved’s insides coiling with tense, slippery warmth. It pumps copious amounts of pre, enough to remind him of the Watcher’s snarky comment in his quarters, a request that he’s all too willing to provide if he could. Panting and sweating alongside and atop his lover, the watershaper adjusts his breathing to synchronize with the other’s ragged exhales, his cock drooling strands that he wish he could gobble up if he weren’t stuffing him with his own heavy tool. Still, every hump that bashes his captain’s prostate lessens his own hold over his sea seed.Intense fullness was the only emotion that Assadin knew at that moment, his chest heaving against the wood and his back arching, timing his movements to push more of that bioluminescent dick within him. He didn’t even feel the torrential showers anymore, it was only the slick sensations of being thoroughly fucked that kept him focused on the tight grip of his lover’s marine hands, the rapid piston that was his rod, and the slapping ballsack that collided with his own with every plowing motion.The two continue with their spirited lovemaking, stopping only to regain their composure for a brief second before resuming their frisky and whetted evening.As time went on, so did the tension building in Assadin’s crotch, and despite his steel-willed resolve, the creeping pressure snapped, and he was sent over the edge. His backdoor clenched down on the blue intruding shaft like a vice, but Tekēhu powers through, hips rapidly colliding into with head-to-hilt thrusts again and again. The Watcher’s ebony cock bloats as his seed rushes from his testicles, giving his own token thrusts and jerks while he marks his ship’s hull with his semen and moans in unfiltered ecstasy his lover’s name.Ngati’s chosen isn’t who he is without persistence. He continues, not stopping even as the mystic reached a second peak. And it wasn’t until his third that the druid thrusts his head forward with a whimper, wrapping his right arm around the toned stomach of the Watcher, and mashes the fullest of his cock into his ass as he reaches his own much-needed climax. His smooth, soft, teal sacks tense and jerk, the godlike’s bulging and sloshing orbs flood his captain’s depths with what feels like gallons of his thick, incredibly virile cum.His continued thrusts, albeit less vigorous, force Assadin to slip past a whimper, a smaller orgasm sending jolts through his form as the wonderfully masculine godlike’s own climax ends. White spunk leaks from the Watcher’s gaping pucker like a newly formed waterfall.Assadin’s words are a stumbling mess akin to a confusion spell as his strength fluttered into the Huana’s carrying grace, his bulbous, illuminating hair a muss with its quickened pulse. “Captain?” The watershaper says in the most loving, soft tones he could garner between sluggish intakes of air.Carrying his lover in his arms, he slowly seats himself upon the balcony of The Resolute, taking note of both their penises dripping the last of their loads as he does so. He continues, looking deep into the Watcher’s iris, sharing an entrenched fascination with their cyan color, “I… Assadin, I say… I felt a spiritual connection there.” He rubs the whorls of the mystic’s fingertips with his lips, kissing each one individually as if his anxieties vanished and he forgot they ever existed.“Ekera, our coupling has composed a song that only our souls can sing. My mother knows best for her son, and I believe she guided me towards one of the most magnificent things the Deadfire has ever invited.”The rain still beating on both of them, the Watcher snuggles closer to the buff druid in his embrace and rests his head on his patterned arm. He manages to string together an assortment of words in between heavy panting and massaging his sore butt cheeks, “Tekēhu… If… if we die at Ukaizo… if Eothas smashes the Wheel and our souls somehow disintegrate from the trauma… I want to die in your arms.”The godlike chuckles, his hearty voice, tinted with the bliss of their afterglow, was a soothing contrast from the constant white noise of rain. He hangs his unoccupied arm over the Watcher’s face to lightly stroke his features with a gleeful grin. “To speak plainly, captain,” he begins with a sense of sureness and authority, “Eothas holds you in the same regard as Ngati her son. I would not dare imagine a future where he casts aside your pleas for mercy.”He untangles the Watcher’s undone ponytail absentmindedly, taking in the refreshing scent of the ocean. “I would also dare not imagine a future without you by my side, I say. Ekera, Eora requires us to be her saviors, and I intend to play the part!”“I’m… not sure I can handle the dangers of Ukaizo with an ass stretched this much.” Calling attention to it causes the dolloping pool of seeping cum from his backdoor to feel both tangible and slimy. He reminds himself of the incredibly masculine smell of musk and sex that saturates their atmosphere.A flood of blue rushes to Tekēhu’s face as he sets his gaze hurriedly towards the magically calmed zone of sea that surrounds the dhow. He squeezes the battlemage’s thigh with wanton spirit, “Then let us return to your quarters, beloved, and allow me to work my shaping.”“Phew… can we hold off on scrubbing me clean of your spunk? I don’t know if I’m ready to part with your strong scent just yet.”“Captain…!”“Heh… A jest, Tekēhu.”Though it takes effort, the handsome shark gives a few quick caresses of his beloved’s cheeks and starts the process of returning indoors to dry out, an exhausted mystic in his arms. “Thank you, Assadin. My life is forever strengthened by our sacred union.”“Love you too, my blue topaz man.”
A Shift in Spirit
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Despite accrediting his victories, virtues, and values to the wintery mysticisms of his heritage from the White that Wends, Assadin’s visions hadn’t entirely prepared him for the lordship that succeeded his ventures at Sun in Shadow. Although he restored Caed Nua’s prosperity from its advanced disrepair and derelict state, word of the Watcher’s deeds throughout the Dyrwood paved the way to an overwhelming migration of settlers to the stronghold. It quickly became a distinct landmark in their section of Eora, with more than a few prestigious dignitaries coming to pay their dues to the supposedly impregnable fortress. Perhaps, many settlers think, that if the Watcher could put down a false claim to the stronghold by a distant lord via an overpowering victory at Yenwood Field, then nothing might penetrate their security.And while they’ve every reason to be correct, it wasn’t exactly the life that Assadin envisioned for himself. The duties and responsibilities thrust upon the Watcher during this lull of peace and calm was a logistical bewilderment to the mystic. The travailing hardships oftentimes caused the Watcher to reminisce on how oddly simpler his pursuit of Thaos was. He was a Watcher now, and most of the realm took a keen eye to that. And suddenly most of the realm required a Watcher’s expertise.Hiravias was antsy. He didn’t take to the settled lifestyle, and every day he found himself bored of the dreary stone walls that trapped him and the same petty squabbling between hirelings. He was all too happy to maul the mercenary who threatened his boyfriend—the Lord of Caed Nua—when they questioned the necessity of keeping the dungeons and underground floors under tight lock and key. Hiravias only wished he could have done it again without the scrutiny of Edér during those first few months.Though the Watcher was content with toiling away at learning the politics required of him to contend with the thayns and erls throughout the Dyrwood to ensure the wellbeing of his people, he jumped at the first opportunity to depart when it presented itself. He felt the uncharacteristic anxiety of his orlan companion, his good ear twitching with the need to leave. The temperamental druid tried his best to sustain this stagnating lifestyle with his trademark cynicism, but too much is too much.Together, Hiravias and the Watcher left Caed Nua, the mystic vowing to surround himself in the nomadic lifestyle of the orlan.Hiravias spoke his mind, “You’re a bold lord if you’re leaving the leadership of your stronghold to the reeve of a colony from the Living Lands—a failed colony, might I add.”“You said it yourself, Rav, exploring what we don’t know is what makes us grow,” the Watcher replied, their journey just starting on the road winding south from the fortress, “I trust Nyse. He’s more experienced than I in these sorts of matters. And besides—”“Oh that’s purple-colored deer vomit if I ever heard it,” the orlan druid smirked when he interrupted, flashing a sassy shine towards the taller ocean folk beside him, “you know just as much as I do that those Dyrwoodans will fuck him over just because of how he’s a FOREST orlan. I doubt your own settlers will trust him, much less those racist bigots in Defiance Bay.”The calm air, the setting sun in the distance, and the cooling colors of the wilderness before them elicited a quiet laugh from the Watcher. But also perhaps Hiravias’s sarcastic remark did that too. Assadin lowers his voice to a whisper, as if the dead wind would pick up and carry his words throughout the known world for all to hear. “What would you think if the others found out he’s a brîshalgwin?”The other stopped in his tracks, placed a hand to his chin, and squinted his eyes real hard towards the Watcher. “You mean to say he’s a mind hunter? A cipher? And you feel relaxed with someone like him reining in your folk? I suppose if word leaked of your lord regent being capable of manipulating souls, then your stronghold is as forgotten as the Engwithan ruins beneath it.”Being a cipher and the lord regent of Caed Nua has its advantages. The both of them stumbled upon each other on the caravan to Gilded Vale, where the former reeve was able to learn of the Watcher’s unique, mystic essence. Nyse’s waning powers caused him to nearly perish by the spirit-rending windstorm that was the bîaŵac. If it weren’t for the aid of the Watcher and Calisca, he would have been gone. Over time, he nourished his ability to communicate with the soul essences of others, and thus eliminated the need for long-distance missives when the capacity of instant communication via telepathy was possible. He may have been a wild orlan, but he garnered the trust of the Watcher, and ocean folk’s trust was hard to earn.But that didn’t matter. Caed Nua was left in hopefully capable hands. Assadin’s life may have been guided by visions and the cosmic force of the churning Wheel, but now, he places it on the shoulders of his small orlan boyfriend. And for the next three years, the typically peripatetic loner now had his closest companion by him as they tempered their wanderlust and reforged their skills in the throes of challenge and contest. They found renewed joy and tranquility venturing beyond sight of the mountains of Eir Glanfath and the stretches of the Eastern Reach. They penned numerous journals and sketches detailing their travels through the frozen tundra of the White March, the searing desert islands of the Deadfire Archipelago, the tropical forests of the Living Lands, and so much more. They were happy to grow from the Hollowborn crisis that preceded them, and their companionship has caused the snarky orlan to open more and lessen his reclusive nature. Though, that could also be attributed to the times they communally dried and smoked Whiteleaf.Towards the latter half of the third year, there was a particular line of thought that caused the Autumn Druid’s tree trunk to unexpectedly bloom. As a Watcher Assadin had no doubt awakened to his prior lives; the orlan lost count of the times he witnessed the distant stares of his mate to visions of his ages-old interactions with Iovara, and especially the following migraines that plagued him. Perhaps the sole nature of being a Watcher would no doubt play a winning hand in drawing ambient fragments of soul energy to call upon the power of spiritshifting himself. To an aroused Hiravias, spiritshifting lets him copulate and fit into holes he otherwise would have difficulty with as a short, meadow-plumed orlan. Nothing stops a flippant, spiritshifted autumn stelgaer from rutting other than the stern concern of the Watcher, rightly nervous of how a girthy cock might tear apart his human asshole.And so fueled by his horny pursuits and coupled with ironic offerings to the Engwithan-made gods of Galawain and Wael for this fornication of molding wizard and druid to a strange amalgamation, the one-eared, one-eyed orlan began his mentoring of the Watcher in the ways of spiritshifting. In the style of the seekers of old, they traveled to a dense, forgotten forest, and rather than pray for guidance, the duo sought to awaken the surely existing, salient soul of a vicious and vibrant creature.Initially, no worthy creature was called forth from within the eternal depths of the Watcher’s essence nor from the darkened tropics of the woodlands that surround them. Hiravias had hoped for a perfect recreation of his mirroring transformation of his stelgaer assailant all those years ago, a match that would place Assadin on a similar, albeit smaller spiritshifting pedestal of handsomeness and ruthless ferocity. The Watcher’s wizard grimoire and its cosmic-written spell formulae drowned the primal essence hoping to surface on many fruitless, starless nights. There was an inhibitor, and no matter the trash talk that spewed from Hiravias’s sprawling lips to rouse motivation, Assadin could make no peace with his inner self.As the Watcher persisted at Twin Elms to help the Autumn Druid stay true to form and true to himself, so would Hiravias persist in nagging, sometimes shouting, at Assadin’s essence to coerce something to awaken. Several sleepless weeks followed in attempts to discover some sect of capacity within the Watcher to harness the power of spiritshifting, and while years ago he would have dismissed the practice with a resounding “Hah! Told you so, the Fisher Crane somehow cursed me to prevent an outlander from learning our ways,” the ineffective methods they utilized dealt a draining blow to the normally brutish druid. Smoking more Whiteleaf didn’t help, nor did eschewing it for the following week. Attempting various rituals in vastly different biomes hadn’t helped either.It was during a trip months later to the Watcher’s polar homeland, the White that Wends, that finally lowered the floodgate and overwhelmed him with awakening. One would think mortal danger to himself, to Hiravias, or some other celestial revelation to the mystic would spur the old incarnation of the spirit to come to the forefront, but instead, he awoke in the midst of a cool night during carnal pleasure.“Hot fucking damn!” Hiravias yelped as he shivered, his exposed, hardened branch throbbing as he witnessed the sight of his tall ocean folk mate grow even larger in size, his dark skin transforming into black fur, budding quills bristling, and pristine white-ivory tusks emerging from the snout of the Watcher’s dire boar spiritshifting form. “Victory looks arousing on you Assadin!” The druid smiled broadly as the red flushing on his cheeks were evident of his approval. The creeping cold, however, reminded the two of their glacial environment.Intrigue plastered on his face and completely unconcerned of their naked, partially sexed bodies, Hiravias began his line of inquiry he only blasted Wael with. He took a hands-on approach to examining the primal new transformation that his mate had conjured, exploring the white mane on his head, the firm tautness of his abs that resembled the strength of his human form, and the confused appendage that is his tail, experiencing weight and wag simultaneously for the first time. Though the wizard felt at home with the chilling snow that bombarded them during the day, his new form was hard to control, and a tinge of panic swept up faster than the loud winds of a williwaw. It was a mood killer, but that didn’t stop the nasty orlan from spitting on him and rubbing dirt in all the wrong places to determine if it wasn’t a blighted illusion from a hostile entity. These lands weren’t his territory, but spiritshifting was a breath of fresh air when he could nibble and bite at the body parts enough to please him in his bodily investigation.“If I were stupidly naïve and four years younger, I’d’ve thanked Galawain or Wael for blessing you with this creature.” The orlan started, his eyes half-lidded, “A dire boar, no less! It’s no autumn stelgaer, that’s for sure, but it’s an honor all the same to awaken to this sort of connection. Just… damn! If I wasn’t vying to stick my asshole atop that marvelous cock I’d be looking to maul your body into pieces and eat you myself!” He chuckled, his crude joke falling on a calmer Watcher’s ears that reminded him of his humor, “Too bad for the others though, I’ve got my prize. And that prize is a deliciously ravaged asshole seeping of your seed.”The Watcher couldn’t help but succumb to his primal desires, particularly when those remarks had enticed him to. It was a time of new exploration, new hunting, and new strength. Running with a pack all those years ago was splendid and all, but the joy of traveling in a mating pair couldn’t beat out this, a private—though not so private during some ventures—uncontained, animalistic rutting between boar and stelgaer. Scaring off the cold-hardened wildlife with moaning sounds of sex between bulky, two-legged creatures turned both of them on more than they admitted. Well, at least more than the Watcher admitted. Hiravias was fine learning to mount his boyfriend with his increased strength, but he especially desired having his own round of unrestrained pounding of Assadin’s new discovery.Teaching him how to effectively control his spiritshift can come later.
A Sudden, Violent Squall
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“Take off your clothes.” The blade-scarred twin said, paying no mind to the violent whistling of the wind just outside their small cavern shelter. He was a smidge taller than his two-minutes younger brother, something he enjoys using to his advantage as he backs him up against the rocky wall and smiles a knowing, pointy, devious smile.“Fuck off Willi,” the burned-scarred twin retorted, his brows furrowing and his patience thinning rapidly, “I’m fucking freezing. And that’s saying something from ME—”A blast of cold air rushed into the tiny alcove and around the corner. It rustled Willi’s black, matted, dreaded hair, but he did not hesitate. The slate gray-skinned asura shoved Whaw against the back of the cave, looming over him. “Take. Off. Your. Burning. Clothes.”Whaw spat on his brother’s face, “Don’t tell me who or what I get to burn, you mouse-fucking asshat.” When Willi didn’t so much as flinch, the other twin began to speak again, his foul temper giving way to a raised voice. “We’re separated from our damned warband! I’m going to fucking scorch you alive if you keep—”Willi cupped his brother’s crotch and squeezed tight, drawing a confused groan from his twin backed by the cool breeze encroaching on them from the snowstorm outside. They knew each other for the entirety of their lives, so Willi knew just what to do to get into his brother’s head. How to take advantage of him. How to cull his rage. “You lost track of the bounty. So I get to fuck you.”His brother’s small and slightly bitten-off ears twitched and his eyes narrowed. He stiffened, “Oh really?”The other’s chin tilted upwards, a shadow casting over his fiendish smile. “That was the deal.” He continued after a short pause, taking joy in his brother’s anger, “Let go of your shitty-ass longbow.”
“Fuck you.”The toothy, older brother grasped the fiery and molten-hot longbow his twin likened to with his right hand. The heat was blistering his skin, but his gaze never left his brother’s and his smile never winced. He was used to the searing pain; he was used to his brother burning him often. The chains connecting the iron-built and heavy longbow were rattled with Willi’s touch, his deep growl overpowering Whaw’s comparatively meek snarl. Chills spread throughout the shorter, vulgar asura, a slight shiver rumbling all over him that he tried to contain.Willi squeezed tighter with his left hand, one finger finding the tiny micropenis above his twin’s slit. “You ain’t gotta compensate when I’m around, lil bro.”The younger twin flinched for just a second at those words. Exploiting his brother’s momentary weakness, Willi yanked the longbow from his twin’s hand and tossed it aside. Its perpetual and everlasting, magical flame tickled Willi’s ankles, propelled by the wind. Whaw’s faded-green eyes flared up, frustrated by his brother. He struggled against him, pushing him back with his might.But Willi knew how to fight against his prey—his brother. He held onto his arm and tackled him down to the cold, hard earth below them with a smooth, single maneuver. It was an audible impact. Killing with their warband have refined the asuras’ techniques, and Willi loved to ravage his quarry, no matter who they were. He knew his twin brother loved playing subservient in times like these; he will get his fuck.“Fuck! Fuck you Willi, I’ll fucking bite you!”The blade-scarred twin shouted in his brother’s face, continuing to pin his arms to the cold, rocky floor, “Then fucking bite me you son of a fucking imp!”Without hesitation Whaw viciously gnawed at Willi’s left shoulder. The pain turned him on and he reveled in it, his brother’s sharp teeth digging deep into his flesh. Unbothered by the chill enveloping their bodies, Willi started humping Whaw’s crotch with his own pitching tent. The friction of rubbing leather between the two’s rugged and snow-covered wear dampened the stress on both of them. They didn’t need to care about the lost bounty. Not right now. They’re alone. And Willi wants to fuck.Despite the freezing, stormy environment that surrounded them just outside, the dreaded asura felt warmth congealing around his shoulder. Inside, he pulsated adrenaline, and he pressed Whaw harder down against the ground, interrupting his brother’s snack.“Let… me… fucking… burn… you!”Willi leaned in close to his brother’s face, smiling at the blood on his lips and on his teeth. “Then take off your clothes, you piece of shit.” He wasn’t done, the faint-red blood slightly trailing down his arm and onto the earth, “Take off your clothes and let me fuck you.”The shorter, spikier haired brother spat on him again. He couldn’t deny that he felt so horny, but there wasn’t any way in the Mists that he’d tell his brother. Whaw’s struggles only continued to fuel Willi’s persistence. He likes it when his prey struggles in desperation for the chance to escape. He likes it when his twin struggles every time but always inevitably succumbs to his domination and his power.His bulge tightened his leathers and rubbed against Whaw’s crotch, his twin’s groans betraying his attempts to break free, “Beg for me to fuck you! You want me lil bro. You need me! You can burn me all you can but all you really want is for me to breed you!” Willi smiled like a demon possessed him, a face Whaw knew well whenever Willi got confident, the charr spirit inside him hungry and starved for its food. Willi’s crotch soon damped with his pre, his eagerness flaunting his one-track desire to fuck his brother. He normally had worn a harness that wrapped around his otherwise bare and scarred chest, but due to their bounty in the Shiverpeaks, Whaw couldn’t see his brother’s chest rise and fall with each heavy intake of breath. That normally aroused him.The burn-scarred twin’s eyebrows lightened a tiny but noticeable amount. “And if they find us here? What the fuck happens next, asshat?” His feminine-born brother transitioned less into denying that he wanted his brother to fuck him dirty towards asking what would happen when it did occur. Willi’s desire for stress relief was more than enough to quell the rage burning within Whaw. It was the bite that reeled him in, and the pyromaniac fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.Whaw was the most cunning out of anyone in the Snuff warband. He broke his brother out of Peacemaker jails, planned for how to ambush the mice they encountered during their teens, and even plotted how to infiltrate their current warband and extinguish the Flame Legion spies leading the others to their deaths. The charr had to accept the asura as two of their own; as they were charr in all but physical form.When it came to Willi, however, he was different. If he wanted to fuck, he will get his fuck. And he’ll use his brother to whatever means he can drive him through if he can release his load in his slit. Willi was smarter. That was the secret. He knew the right words and when to say them. He knew to keep his little brother’s fire starters just out of reach. It was instinct.“I’m going to rip your fucking clothes off, bitch.” Willi shouted. He grinded against Whaw’s crotch, demanding to press further and break the chains containing his leakage. His claws dug deeper into Whaw’s arms, reinforcing his dominance. The lingering scent of burnt smoke circulated from the berserker’s trashed longbow just off to the side, aided with the occasional breeze of the snowstorm outside. It all added to the adrenaline-filled moment. “Beg. For. Me.” The dominant asura demanded.“Fine! Alchemy, fuck me! Damn it, Willi!” Whaw had moaned his brother’s name, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t satisfied. His ears weren’t twitching. That meant he wasn’t committed. He wasn’t begging. He snapped at Whaw and dug deeper with his claws, probably drawing blood.
That made his ears twitch. “Beg for me to breed you!”“Ugghh!” The younger twin’s exponentially growing lust blocked out any sense left within him, “Fuck me, Willi! Please! Fuck my slit and call me your cockslut!”That was what he needed. The older twin’s eyes considerably widened and his grin became even wilier. Still restraining Whaw, the blade-scarred brother pressed his face to his prisoner’s crotch, taking in his horny scent. He loved the sultry odor that his brother oozed; it was that peculiar scent of ash staining his entire form mixed with whatever remnants of sex that marked their previous ventures. It drove him into a frenzy each and every time without fail. He pulled on his brother’s flame-retardant armor, biting into the belts that secured his leather pants together. Then, without remorse, Willi chewed apart their straps, ripping it to shreds and forcibly revealing his prize underneath. There was no ceremonious unbuckling, and Whaw could only watch as his brother dove head-first into his quick and dirty devouring of the burn-scarred twin’s own slit and cry out in pleasure.The younger brother shouted in ecstasy as his twin’s tongue aggressively wandered about his nethers, playing with the sensitivity of his micropenis. Just moments ago he was furious with his brother’s forceful insistency for a fuck during an intensive bounty, but that stress melted away when Willi began to slide his tongue further inside. The older twin yearned for the slick taste of his brother drooling down his groin. His wet tongue explored every crevice and cranny that it could reach, neither twin caring about the hard, cold ground beneath them scraping their undersides.Whaw gave in. He begged for his brother’s member. He craved it. He didn’t care how it made him look at this point. “S-Stop! Willi! B-Burn me… Please fuck me! I need it… Please!”The other heard what he wanted to hear. The words that continued to power Willi’s zesty zeal. The abrupt pause of his tongue-fucking combined with his half-lidded, scheming eyes and his nefarious smile turned on Whaw immensely. It was the calm before the storm. A fiery storm that Whaw knows he won’t be walking straight for a week after.“Take off your fucking clothes before I rip the rest of them off.” Willi barked, his smile never fading and his gaze transfixed on his favorite hole. He momentarily lessened his grip, allowing Whaw to hastily remove his garb and toss them aside to the wind. It was freezing in the cave; both brothers knew that in the back of their minds. But neither cared. The fire burned in their hearts to relieve stress in the way they know best.Willi wasn’t done ordering his brother around. The sex-craving asura grinded his teeth and demanded that the arsonous twin strip him, to which Whaw had done without reluctance and as fast as he could. Consumed by his lusty thoughts for cock, the younger twin dragged down his brother’s undergarments, wanting his member to pop out and slap him in the face. The ravaging, older brother’s considerably larger penis emerged with its resounding, promised pop and took in the chill of the environment and the warmth of his younger brother’s pleading cheeks.Whaw was always jealous of his brother’s equipment, him having been born with masculine traits. Every time they winded down with sex he measured his twin’s manhood. It was the only time he wished he was as smart as any other asura—so he could figure out a way to have his own grow to be a length and girth that deliciously rigid. He dropped down to his knees, taking in the sights of Willi’s gloriously erect willy, and desired nothing more than to fondle his hanging ballsack and to prep himself for what’s soon to come.Taking in the novelty of his younger brother getting full whiffs of his musk, the mistwalking asura cracked his neck and violently kicked the other down on the earth. In the shadowy alcove, the lack of decent lighting presented the older sibling as a dark silhouette with a ravenous, hanging, pre-dripping rod, sending electric shivers throughout the younger one’s entire body. Whaw dismissed it as the cold of the outside snow breaching the cave, but it was so much more than that. It was the anticipation—the grinding—the ripe delight of the experience he begged for.It drowned out every other sense in him. There was nothing else he cared for right now. Not for the rest of the warband. Not for the bounty. Nothing except for his brother’s load. And Willi’s slow approach tormented him greatly, each step accentuating the thick piece of meat between his thighs that he coveted so greatly. The older twin’s twisted, ivory-colored teeth were the only visible aspect of his darkened form as he appeared and loomed over the stumbled, burn-scarred brother. Despite the wind that felt like pelting, freezing needles, Willi’s dick stood firm and true, frotting against his younger sibling’s micropenis as he squatted and pinned him down once more.The sensations were unbearable, “G-Gahh…! F-Fuck you… Willi! Stop teasing… me!” the younger one said, wishing that his brother would just this once shove it in him without the ruthless exploitation. Whaw continued to fail to stifle his moans as his blade-scarred twin’s juicy cock kept rubbing back and forth, his brother ignoring his pleading requests. Willi was at full mast, his leaking crown feeling every bit of his brother’s enticing slit with his crude exploration. Its throbs almost caused Whaw to arch his entire form up, desperate to fuck himself on his brother’s dick, were it not for how forceful the dreaded asura was keeping his prisoner in check. While he was careful to keep his salty spunk dribbling inside his brother, he made sure that the other understood that he was in control of every fiber of his being at this precise moment.The pyromaniac grimaced—the only times he lets himself do so—when his twin kept prodding and digging ever so gradually with his prick, tickling his entrance with a small taste of what he could have. Then and there Willi felt an incredible surge overcome him, an insatiable hunger he needed to satisfy right now. An odd blend of pain and pleasure overwhelmed the burn-scarred brother; he curled his three tiny asura toes around his twin; he dug his fingers into the numbingly-cold dirt below him; he screeched an ear-piercing yell as he got his one wish.Both asura clashed in voice as they both screamed at varying levels, dust rumbling from the short ceiling of their alcove. The spikier-haired brother remembered what it was like to have his brother’s thirsting cock shoved inside his slit full force. Many would consider it a painful memory, but Whaw relished the savage and unrestrained shredding. He secretly loved writhing underneath his brother who quickened his pace and humped him without remorse, his balls slapping against him. He took unrepressed joy when he pressed further in, inch by inch, moaning to encourage his twin to not stop. It would be a crime to stop. And he would burn his brother if he didn’t give him what he begged for.“Ahhh…! Fuck, Willi! Don’t… fucking… stop…!”Whaw’s copious sex fluids seeped from his slit as his ransacking twin rested his hardened cock on his taint, torturing him further. His laugh was guttural and his grip on Whaw’s arms were tighter, basking in the air of sexual frustration and musk that enveloped them. Although the younger sibling hissed and spat on him again and again, imploring him to resume, Willi wanted to bathe himself with his twin’s agony and ecstasy. He stopped for a minute before thrusting himself back inside, coating his cock with both devilish encouragement and abundant lubrication. The pressure was excruciating, and every second was another eternity of being unable to differentiate the unfiltered bliss between the overwhelming desires to get bred and fucked over and over. Each time Whaw could not brace himself and each time his moans were louder and breathier.For several moments, both Willi and Whaw had forgotten the world outside the cave existed, as if they blocked any and all feelings associated with Tyria to only focus on themselves. The blade-scarred sibling engulfed himself fully within his brother, taking nothing but the sensations of his tight interior walls squeezing his pre-cum drip by drip. Willi rubbed his body atop his twin’s, feeling the compact weight underneath him as he continued to fill him up with his meaty tool.Every jerk was a clear reminder of his dominance over Whaw, hilting himself inside his burn-scarred, younger brother. His monstrous thrusts repeatedly coerced shameless moans from both of them, and it was evident that they were both at their limit after a while of what seemed like endless fucking, endless slurs, and blurry vision.When it seemed like Whaw was on the verge of passing out from the overwhelming motions of sex, he felt another inch of his brother’s cock push within his slit and then an unceremonious rush of ooze fill him. His blade-scarred brother gripped tighter as he unleashed his cannon-fire; an uninterrupted stream of hot spunk gradually bloating Whaw’s insides. Perhaps it was the snow piling just outside of their cavernous alcove, fallen from their conspicuous, sexual sounds, or perhaps it was the frustration of losing track of their bounty—a mouse with no care except for her pockets lined with coin. Whatever the cause of the burn-marked sibling’s wavering consciousness, he forced his brother to draw closer to him, his penis’s pulsing throbs releasing cum not unlike a spewing geyser.Neither of them knew how long it took for them to finish riding their blissful orgasm. Whaw lived for the moments where his brother bit his neck while breeding him and Willi never passed a day without plotting his next sexual domination over his brother for much needed stress relief. Willi’s sweat-drenched and dreaded hair untangled itself as the minutes-older brother piled himself atop his brother, never bothering to pull out his sore and emptied prick from inside his sibling’s slit. It may be freezing, but right now, they have all the warmth they could ever need in Tyria.The white semen pooling underneath the twins following their rigorous orgasm, it took the younger, shorter-haired brother a few minutes to even realize the developing drool atop him and the snoring of his older sibling. Whatever he was feeling or thought about before their relief didn’t matter now. It was time to pass out and await the next day of being his brother’s cockslut.
Fappy Foryts
Artwork by OnionEyedGoat on FurAffinity
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Normally I don’t get assigned to the colder climates of the Lion Road, but I appreciate when my superiors grant me a chance to view the beautiful, snow-blanketed mountains of the Shiverpeaks. This month they stationed me at Winter Haven. I get reassigned frequently, so I don’t tend to bond with other Lionguards whose assignments are usually almost always lengthier than mine, but the interactions are nice most of the time. The higher ups like to post me where trouble is afoot or a particular Haven requests long-distance support. There are periods where my schedule is packed and many different outposts are looking for my long-range expertise. I can’t be in two different places simultaneously, but maybe there are smarter asura out there who can probably figure out something like that in the future. Sometimes it feels like I’m transitioning from Haven to Haven every odd couple of weeks.But this month is slightly cooler than the fast-paced duties I’m tasked with. Hehe, that pun was unintentional... Anyway, I found a perfect perch spot pretty quickly. I can always bet on rugged, mountainous terrain providing optimal peak spots with clear line of sight to anything my EYES can see. My cybernetic implants let me view over twenty three times the distance of even the most hawkeyed human. It’s only the first generation made from the old krewe that let me work for them years ago, but it’s proved to be incredibly helpful. Seriously, I still wonder if they regret not distributing the implants to the Peacekeepers or even the Lionguard… they surely must have heard how much it helped me during the Attack on Claw Island some years ago?Oh, sorry. I lose myself with these gorgeous landscapes and tend to think a lot. I don’t normally say much to others, but I guess that’s okay. Thinking is better anyway. One downside of being stationed at a Haven near a colder climate is that climbing towards the vantage point can take a while with the gear I’ve been issued. Especially when it’s every morning. I eat rations near lunch and dinner, and then do teardown at night. It’s a routine I’ve known for a long while. Folk often wonder how I can be comfortable sitting in one spot for so many hours every day, but I guess I just kind of trained myself to get used to it. It’s always worth the trek every morning if I can let my EYES wander the world around me, zooming in on every rock, tree, cloud, snowflake, and mountain peak. This month at Winter Haven was assuredly a memorable assignment; I could spectate every fight at Vollym’s Battle Pit from long afar and I’d silently root for the underdog, hoping that they’d win.The dredge were another issue. It was why I was posted at Winter Haven. I was told to incapacitate any dredge at will, so I had to be on close lookout. One week was pretty uneventful, but the vicious moles caught me by surprise one night and attempted an underground assault. They sneakily tried to board their transporter vehicle out of sight from the Haven, but they luckily hadn’t noticed I was perched up high. Thankfully I remembered the briefing that told me that dredge are blind. Couldn’t pinpoint my location if all I’m doing is firing non-lethal shots from my sniper rifle, can they now?On the slow days following intense events I like to think about Caanell. She’s my girlfriend, I think. We’re not… really clear on it, but I’m pretty sure she is? I can’t really afford to read books while on duty, but I’m positive that our relationship is like that in the books that I hear some of my colleagues talk about. She’s a very intelligent asura that works as a broker for the Black Lion Trading Company. I love her very much, and she’s very happy with how we work out our business partnerships as well. She knows just what to say to get me happy, so I always try my best to make her happy. It’s only fair after all, you know?She works out a lot of deals to make a clean and honest profit. On the very occasional dates we go on together during miraculous times we’re both off-duty, she tells me about a lot of business strategies that I don’t really understand. But if it works and she’s making her boss satisfied, then I’m happy for her. After all, she tells me she’s leagues above all other competitors. Hehe, I’m lucky to have a wonderful woman like her dating me.I’m packing for my next trip. Lionguards like me can be hired by merchants to escort them to hotspots throughout the Lion Road, safe from hostile creatures and bandits alike. Because I’m deputy rank, however, my escort rates are mandated to be smidges costlier than most standard fare Lionguards. Caanell somehow managed to find a way to skirt around that issue! It nets her increased profits if I personally escort Black Lion-affiliated traders to their intended destination if I’m hired on a standard Lionguard fare. In return, she hires me for escort routes away from the common Lion Road, letting me see how beautiful Tyria can be. I’ve gone places where Lionguards seldom do. Places where I can see the ocean and the warm sunsets. Places where I can relax high above a magnificent jungle. Tyria can be breath-taking and Caanell lets me sight-see all I want. Tomorrow I’m leaving to escort a Black Lion trader to the Durmand Priory. I’ve been to Lionar’s Pass once before, but I can only imagine how the natural, chilly scenery mold that region of the world.Off-duty times like these are rare, but I cherish them. It’s not often that I get to pack my things alone. I think about how beautiful and attractive Caanell is. If there is one thing that’s prettier than the world itself, then it has to be her. On our dates at Lion’s Arch she wears an elegant purple and white dress with patterned frills that reach her thighs. Technological baubles float around her jeweled fingers that complement her baby blue skin and her soft, round face. The more I think about her large ears, the more I want to massage them softly and tell her how beautiful she is. She wears a pink headband that keeps in place her platinum blond hair tied in braids that accentuate her vibrant orange eyes. I look into them and see something stunning, and I’m sure she reciprocates with my orange-colored EYES as well.I wish I could do something with her. We’ve never done anything really intimate beyond exchanging flowery words. We haven’t kissed yet in our few years of dating, but I think that’s a normal thing? I’m okay with waiting and I don’t want to rush anything or make her uncomfortable. But… thinking about her perfume… and remembering the aroma gets me tingly and warm inside, fuzzy feelings spreading all over. I just wish I could do more with her. Sometimes I hear hushed talk of passersby describing their experiences with their newfound love and I get a little jealous.I wish she could take me and undress me from my uniform and my Elonian mask, strap by strap. Heh… I imagine her sometimes lowering the mask that covers my mouth to place her lips upon mine and winking with her confident smile. I picture her running her hand down my arms and down my thighs and it feels nice. She would ask me if I wanted to go further, and I’d nod shyly and blush… Then, she’d reveal my hardening dick peeking through the briefs that hold it, waiting for a moment like this in all of our relationship. That moment has been building up for a while and I can’t wait for it to come soon enough. Maybe she’d lick the underside of my eager shaft, my pants fallen to the floor of some private chamber we’re in. It’d feel wet, but it’d feel amazing. I’d want her to play with my ass and use asuran sex toys on me. Imagining her dominating me and having me at her command is unlike any other feeling I’ve imagined really… Ugh… I haven’t seen those toys since before I was declared a college dropout. Roommates would hide them under their beds, but their clever buds always had some sort of sex toy detector to embarrass them in front of me. But I never really cared if they had them or not. In fact, I always wondered what they felt like… but I never got the chance to ask… They’d probably get weirded out for a stoic asura like me to ask them about their private business.But with Caanell? I want her inside me. I want her to use those toys on me. I… really wish she’d do something with me. I never had the chance to have sex at college. Folks usually avoided me because I was considered the most “stupid” anyway so I never got the chance to ever be in a relationship. Caanell doesn’t see me as stupid. I wouldn’t think she’d see me as stupid even if I told her I wanted her to get on top of me and use my body however she saw fit. Sometimes I picture her reaction to that potential question. I smile and turn beet-red imagining her devilish smile whenever she concocted a scheme. She would love to do that, I think. I’d love for her to fuck me. I wish she’d fuck me, our naked asura bodies sweating so much from her silencing my breathy moans by covering my mouth during off-duty private times like these... Nnngh, it’s so hot in here all of a sudden… and… fuck, I’m… close. I can’t help to… touch it… thinking of her… Ahh… Fuck… My pre’s leaking on my uniform trousers… But… But… her warm body… N-No… I can’t… keep it in further… C-Caanell… I’m gonna… I’m gonna—
Legend Worship
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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“Ahh… It’s good to loosen up and relax on the furs back at Hoelbrak. Tell me Kåre, how goes your apprenticeship? Has Weibe been treating you well?”
“He puts a wise affront but personally I think there’s something hidden deep inside him. Otherwise he is very calm and patient.”
“I haven’t heard of that perspective before. Unless my ale-ridden memory betrays me, Havroun Weibe spoke highly when he introduced you to me. How did you come to that conclusion?”
“I can see many things Fjorst. My master admired you greatly and talked often of you.”
“He may be tough at times, but he means only to mold you into Raven’s finest protector. That is a great destiny, Kåre.”
“It may be, but the tales the skaalds sing of your exploits in the Maguuma and your feats of traversing the Mists with such prowess. Your place is fated to be among the legends… I am but a simple shaman.”
“Kåre… Tell me, friend, how old are you?”
“Ironic that you ask… A month back we were meant to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, but my affinity for necromancy had earned me trouble with my family. They don’t appreciate the ‘irreverent’ side of Raven.”
“Hmm… Come, help me stoke the fire, I’ll need assistance.”“…There. Thank you Kåre.”“You’ve been quiet, friend. How is the warmth? It’s been a while since I’ve felt the tickling flames brush up against me. It is a nice feeling… one I’ve been longing for.”
“How is it that you’re so mature, Fjorst? You’re only four years older than me, yet I would mistake you for a wise elder of Raven.”
“Master has forged an image of you for years in my head: one of wisdom but also curiosity. One who takes risks to get the answers he needs. A brawny norn who pursues his own destiny as a shepherd of the spirits. Are these true?”
“Hahaha. I’m not sure about the ‘brawny norn’ part. Have you taken a close look at me? A vast amount of norn outclass me there!”
“…You’re still burlier than me.”
“Tell me, Kåre—”
“You seem to like using that phrase a lot.”
“I—well… Still, what do you cherish most?”
“What does that question mean…?”
“I met my father in the Mists. He took me on his last hunt and taught me many things. At the end of it all, he told me to cherish what I considered close to my heart. Do you know what I consider close to my heart, Kåre?”
“Tyria. The world is beautiful. I can see the emotions people leave behind. I can see what they once saw. The sights, the experiences, the struggles. It’s a beautiful place… and it’s the only place we have. And I want to protect it. As you put it, I console our ancestors, the souls of the people that came before us. That will come after us. The world they left will continue to be there.”
“Spirits… I need another drink.”“Oh, thank you, Kåre.”
“Aaahhh… Is that Highlander? Spirits, what a wave of nostalgia. I thought they didn’t serve this at the moot today?”
“I kept it hidden from the others. I wanted to save it as a gift for you.”
“Hah, thank you, friend. It is a hearty gift and a good memory of home!”“So. I don’t think I’m drunk enough to mishear things, but I’m definitely sure you didn’t answer my question.”
“What do I cherish most… right?”
“Life has always sort of fascinated me. Life and death. You were a big inspiration for that, Fjorst.”
“Really…? I truly didn’t expect to be an inspiration. You have a lot of time in front of you. I do as well. Things can change. Keep what you love close to you.”“Enjoying the Highlander yourself, Kåre?”
“You’re able to tell? How was it like losing your sight? Master tells me stories of your vision deteriorating.”
“I… You’re… pretty close, friend.”
“It’s nice to chat with you Fjorst. Thank you for accepting my invitation.”
“Y-You’re welcome… I thought… I thought Weibe forbade close interpersonal actions…?”
“Uhh—I… perceive the Mists… My vision is that into the realm of the spirits, rather than… the… uhh, f-finer details of your closeness.”
“May I untie your blindfold, Fjorst?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“During the moot, I saw you were apprehensive when two warriors of Bear challenged you to a brawl without your fold. Your human companion had to intervene.”
“You… you’re correct in that Lorenzo stepped in…”
“I’m not looking to fight you. I… just want to see the real you, the man I’ve looked up to for four years. You’re insecure about how people look at you, a twenty-two year old legend… blind.”
“You’re afraid that people discredit your skill and devotion because you cannot see into Tyria…”“I don’t. You are a handsome man Fjorst. More handsome than I had imagined, really.”
“Kåre… A-Are you… stroking my thigh…?”
“Raven couldn’t have asked for a better shepherd.”“Your eyes are beautiful.”
“…”
“You’re beautiful.”
“…”
“…”
“Why… why did you… kiss me?”
“…You told me to keep what I cherished close…”
“I cherish you. Thank you… for being a great inspiration and… a legend. To us… and to me.”
“I… I must be… drunk…”
“Is the fire too hot? You’re getting sweaty Fjorst.”
“…”“Is that… is that how it feels?”
“…Yes. Warm, soft, drunken, masculine.”
“I—uhh… d-didn’t know… two men could be this close.”
“The skaalds tell stories about you… but only Raven knows that you’ve longed for a moment like this. Someone to give you what you really deserve.”
“How did…?”
“Please… Fjorst. Allow me to take care of you.”
“Allow me to care for your beautiful form. Your weary, stubbly face. Your toned muscles. The rough white ink of your beautiful arm tattoos. Your aching wish…”
“I didn’t know… Kåre…”
“…”
“…Okay.”
“Then may I remove your furs?”
“…Yes.”“Your abs are lovely… Full of life… I can feel every section of it… the curve of your hips… the slight tautness…”
“H-How long have you… fantasized… about this?”
“A… long time…”
“That’s… those are my t-trousers…”
“And the firmness of your thighs… how built your world-traveling legs are… the hair peeking through your undergarments…”
“Spirits, Kåre… T-That feels… nice… by the fire’s embrace…”“K-Kåre, what are you…!”
“Underneath it all… a man deserving of his reward… A pent hero… A terrible shame for him to not have what he really wants…”
“A-Ahhhh…! Ahh… S-Spirits…”
“Pulsing… throbbing with desire… Coated with his admirer’s want, snatching every drop of his preseed…”
“Shu—shut up… a-and keep going…”“…”
“…”
“W-What… just happened…?”
“Mmh… It tasted more savory than I had imagined…”
“R-Raven I can’t believe I let you… do that…”
“Did—did you... did you cum on… my feet?”
“I was so… ensorcelled by your form I couldn’t control myself with my own urges. I apologize.”
“Why did you… why did you do this?”
“Does it matter? Your hushed moans and squirms showed me you enjoyed yourself as much as I did servicing you.”
“I-I… Uhh… W-Wouldn’t Weibe know that you... did this?”
“Your flustered cheeks tell me that even if master did find out of our interactions… that it was worth it.”
“Kåre… Your fantasies aren’t worth your destiny. I’m just one norn.”
“Don’t worry, Fjorst. Meeting you is something I will never regret.”
“Ugh… Help a man out and clean my feet of your… uhh… your cum.”“…Thanks.”
“I’m glad to have seen the real man behind the stories. You’re even taller than I pictured.”
“…”
“It’s getting late. Would you care to spend the night… with me? Two shamans of Raven? Perhaps you might enjoy the warmth of a fellow man during your slumber… Curled up beside you, with your arms wrapped around, keeping me close…”
“Spirits… I… augh… I suppose… I’d want that…”
“Thank you for indulging me.”
“Don’t push your luck… friend.”
A Night for The Three of Us
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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It took 11 years, 2 months, and 17 days of scouring every grain of sand in the desert. Years of fruitless searching. Years of allowing myself to fall for every mirage. Years of fending off the corsairs, dodging the hydras, skinning the sand sharks, and avoiding the Awakened. Years of explaining my foreign heritage in this human dominated continent of heat and dune. A year of watching the land tear itself apart with a human power-crazed god occupying it. A decade of soul searching. The elders in my home village spoke a tale to the young hunt-hungry children, its message ingrained for all my childhood: “A wolf who ventures alone is a wolf who dies alone.”And yet, for 11 years, 2 months, and 17 days I combed the Land of the Golden Sun with nothing but the skin on my back and the sand-caked, rusty axe I kept for twenty years.I held onto hope. I kept believing that with every step, dipping ever closer to the eternal sinking sands of the desert, that I would find the cure for my son.And I did.I promised him and his fathers that I would find this mysterious panacea before his 15th birthday. He didn’t deserve a decade stuck underneath the covers of a bed, looking wistfully out the window towards the snow and distant mountains of the Mineral Springs. He didn’t deserve the pitiful looks from the other parentless urchins of the orphanage. From the charr cub separated from his fahrar, enthusiastic to hunt like a norn. From the Ascalonian refugee that lost her parents to the Separatists and reminded my dear Alfonz too much of our late daughter. It was Kaia, the tallest of our orphans, who wanted to show our son the things they found outside, from family hunts to scavenging the land of old stone and rock. She told the other kids that he was as much their responsibility as his fathers’.Today was my son’s 16th birthday. Ever since my departure 11 years ago, I’ve seen him less than thirty or so times, traveling back to our Hopegård Home only perhaps twice a year. Every time I saw him the fire in my body refueled with the wood that would last me the next 8 months I would endure before seeing his beautiful young face once more. That wood fueled my next endeavor, for I would fight every day for the chance to restore his health. Now, I won’t have to leave. I can stay with him and I can see him grow every day. I can be with his fathers and see them grow to be fantastic men. I won’t have to spend nights uncertain about the existence of the cure, and whether or not I’ve wasted years chasing a fairytale in favor of spending time with him.We finally can all get married. All three of us. Birgir pushed for it; he wanted everyone in the Home to attend the ceremony, especially before Harold, our oldest, graduated. It was a subject we seldom mentioned before. It’s difficult to when you visit only for a day to deliver medicine, salves, and other potions for the kids. Sometimes I scoop up my small Alfonz and kiss him, but Birgir would be off teaching them how to hold a bow or how to swing an axe. Now I can do that every day. I can hold Alfonz in my arms and kiss him. I can hold Junior in my arms and cry because I imagine situations where he’s slowly walking down the torch-lit halls of our Home in the future, cured of his illness. I can caress Birgir’s muscles, trim his beard, care for his arm stump, and feel the scars on his face I’ve given him decades ago when we were fierce rivals who wanting nothing less of killing each other.It’s a future I’ve fought for so long. It’s something all my loves deserve, both Alfonz, the man that serendipitously and singlehandedly changed my view of Tyria and Birgir, the man I’ve known for most my life yet somehow resented for half of it. The children were in complete care under the two men I love with all my heart. Alfonz toiled day and night to educate the children we took in, to serve them their meals, to solve interpersonal problems between them, to tuck them in when the sun’s reflective rays dimmed at dusk, and to care for the ill. He sacrifices much of his sleep in order to make sure that each and every child is included in our happy family. Then, at the end of the day, he still finds an hour to spend exclusively with Junior, the son he miraculously sheltered from the Dragonbrand. Birgir protected the Home from stray hostile creatures. By the Spirits he built the Home by himself! With one arm! He trains our children to fend for themselves, he leads them on hunts for food, and he puts on a wide smile beyond the stress of potential danger from the Sons of Svanir. These two men complete me. They’re stronger in every way, and I only have Wolf to thank for blessing me with the kindest family I could be with. The decade spent in the Crystal Desert and further south have lead me to become the most loyal man to my fiancés and my children. Each and every one of them.That’s our future. A future where I can spend more time with my family. Where my trips are temporary—only to find ingredients, say a medicinal herb, to cure one of the ailing kids. Learning the culture and idiosyncrasies of the Elonian peoples was an experience to be had as a norn. Often times my profession as an apothecary was called into action after all, and the rogue human god certainly made things worse… But my time is with my family now. That’s our legend. Perhaps not to the skaalds of Hoelbrak nor to the human clergy of Kormir but for the futures of these children. For Birgir Vernansson and for Alfonz Caldwell. Our legend lives through the futures they carve and the legends our children forge for themselves.It’s night. Talk of marriage can be exciting but also taxing. Tomorrow is a bright day, and Birgir intends to spend it with Junior, helping him how to cope and exercise. Our troubles are behind us. Tonight however? I want to show my loves how much of Tyria they mean to me. After the kids are fast asleep and the moonlight shines through the curtains of our bedroom’s windows, we’ll light our wall sconce and explore each other, just like how we did ten years ago.I want to spend hours with them, tickled by the faint heat of the sconce and the rough furs of our large bed that I’ve missed oh so much. I want to smile the toothiest smile and bring joy to the men that brought me purpose. Bear taught both Birgir and I to be gentle, so I want to spend tonight the gentlest I can be, feeling Alfonz’s smooth skin and holding him in my arms and planting my lips on his neck. I want to touch every pore on Birgir’s face, feeling his bumpy texture and reminisce of our youth. I want to kiss each of Alfonz’s painted fingernails and remind him that his expression is valid and lovable. I want to laugh as Alfonz tries to fiddle with my happy trail and Birgir lightly scratches my rump. I want to roughhouse with Birgir and spit in his crack and slap his ass and nuzzle against it, licking his plump butt in every way I can. I want to make sure Alfonz receives all the pleasure he deserves, as I know he doesn’t take time for himself nor can he easily take care of Birgir’s desires. I want to spend an entire night naked with them, exploring our bodies from head, to nipple, to stomach, to penis, to leg, to foot, and empty ourselves fully, just like our first night together. I want to commemorate the beginning of our son’s journey to recovery, and to tell my loves with my actions that I will always be there with them now.Perhaps I should introduce a clone of myself to pleasure Alfonz when I’m too spent? To finally give Birgir a taste of what my ass feels like for the member between his legs that he’s been dying for? Years in the desert have taught this old man a thing or two about mesmer magic…Hmm, not tonight. I want it to be just us.
What He Longed For
Artwork by Lacrimale on FurAffinity
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Human and charr. Charr and human. That shouldn’t be.But it is.Days of conflict are long past them. Before them lies a period of grief and a period of longing.He longed for many. His white stripes were marked with more than just the color of his fur. It occasionally marked the color of bedroom play. He longed for satisfaction. Ignorant bliss. A way to forget. An explorer to take him and seize him. A hunter to claim him for the night. He longed for more. A different self-search the every time the sun hits dusk. A way to find happiness that lasted longer than his next hunter.The fur of his companion felt coarse and bristly. But it was his. And he knew that. They both did. He knew he filed his horns; his claws. His teeth were as rounded as a cub’s. He knew he desired him. He knew he eyed him since the Deep. His face flushed. His pants tightened. He wanted the best explorer. The best hunter. His hunter and savior. A human savior. And he wanted to reciprocate it. Fully. Truly.The days of conflict weren’t long past them. It lived. Overwhelming feelings of loss and exhaustion distracted them. Feelings of uncertainty. Of unfamiliarity. Distance and separation.He longed for the feeling of his dark flesh against his fur. A genuine feeling. A whiff of his experienced scent. To touch his braided hair. To taste his saliva.He longed for the feeling of exploring his colorful mane and fur. A way to whisper to the real him “I love you.” To feel his body wrapped by his tail. No blindfold. No illusions. This timeline.He wanted it as much as the other did.But it wasn’t what he really wanted.Human and charr. Charr and human. That shouldn’t be.And perhaps it wasn’t meant to.
To Belong By You
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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“Hiravias? …I thought I’d find you here.”
“Watcher? You’re the last sack of bones and flesh I want to see right now.”
“You’d knew I’d find you here of all places.”
“Seems to me that you’re going to miss your fun-size lovable orlan. Or my glistening wit, hard to tell.”
“You don’t have to leave, Hiravias.”
“…Just don’t weep when I’m gone. I don’t belong to anybody.”
“Not to you. Not anymore.”“You’re one of the youngest mystics from the Wend, if you want another glimpse of this fine man you’d probably only need heavy—“
“Assadin?”
“Stop running away.”
“The kind Watcher’s hug is preventing that at the moment.”
“You realize the moment I spiritshift into a hulking, autumn stelgaer is the moment the Watcher’s arms are torn apart and eaten before him.”
“You wouldn’t do that Hiravias.”
“Are you crazy? I once happily woke up with a full stomach having slept empty the night before. I wouldn’t put it past me.”
“Hiravias.”“…Fine.”
“I don’t want to leave. You taught me more than those bastards Wael and Galawain ever hoped to reach into my noggin.”
“…That I only serve myself.”
“Well, don’t blame me when I say that beating the shit out of Thaos helped me reach that conclusion. Hey, I’m a bit slow sometimes.”“I love you, Hiravias.”
“Finally out and said it, huh?”
“I was waiting for the right time.”
“But I didn’t want you to leave before I could say how I really felt; what you really mean to me.”
“I can’t say I’m really surprised after that stint with the bath. Never again, please. That was maddening.”
“But I do have to say that I never expected this.”
“Expected what?”
“To belong. Not to you. Not by any chance. But by you. I… well, fuck, I never stumble over my words. Usually I’m the one supplying the vibrancy and the color to the dreary world around you.”“You can say it too, you know.”
“What’s that? Sorry, it can be hard to hear when you’re whispering sweet nothings into my ear stump.”
“Ha. Good one.”
“So what? Is this the part where we consummate and elope into lands further than the damned cold White Marches? Perhaps a visit to the Fisher Crane? They wouldn’t appreciate one of their exiled returning with someone like you, y’know.”
“Aghhh, fine. I love you, Assadin. There, I said it. Are you happy now? Blooming with newfound emotions?”
“Very. Very happy.”“…I wouldn’t have expected an elder boar’s weight to be lifted off my chest when I said that.”
“Hiravias… your markings…”
“Watcher, I… they itch sometimes. When I’m nervous. Doesn’t happen often.”
“I’m here, Rav, I’m here.”
“Gah, I hate when you say that in a loving voice… It makes me feel like I’m more special than I should be. And then I get aroused. Because your body is warm. And your embrace is way too tight for comfort but that makes it all the more better.”
“You are special. And it’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to be loved. You deserve to be.”
“I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to think that you—also—happen to be aroused?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh it’s so tempting. Perhaps some heavy petting is in due order? I can certainly be loved that way, at least away from Edér.”“I was joking.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Ha ha. So how about we skip to the fucking now we’re on the same page?”
“That was… quick.”
“Yeah well, I always pegged you for a better man than most lasses and lads I’ve spent the eve with.”
“And I was right when you forced me to take that bath with you. When a part of my soul died, more specifically.”
“You always have a way with words, Rav.”
“Just promise you won’t fuck what’s left of my soul out of me, Assadin.”
“Ha! Maybe. I’ll consider.”
“Well, shit.”
Bloodstone Maintenance
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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Reflection LogFuars Bloodbreaker is proving to require a lot more maintenance than previously thought. Took a lot of effort to enthrall him initially. Long and arduous process, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Reflection logs are said to increase productivity in recollecting prior experiences. I will exercise the benefit of the doubt and attempt this process, for now.After my expulsion from both the College of Synergetics and the Durmand Priory I’ve found it excruciatingly frustrating to communicate with previously established contacts. I’m not one to tarry or dawdle like an incompetent bookah, but I simply can’t stand to desist on my research because “bloodstone necromancy applications are dangerous and unethical.”No. Colleagues fail to fathom the potentialities of delving into Mursaat technologies. Our progenitors had built upon Mursaat architecture in Rata Sum. No other explanation can account for their survivability rates that vastly overwhelms evidence of previous attempts of surface settlements. Previous Mursaat ruins paved the way to an explicit and comprehensive understanding of the surface world. Rata Novus overrun by chak due to poor location management and mishandling of ley energies. Rata Arcanum a failure of a colony to even be considered a second thought. Rata Pten eliminated by the very same Destroyers that drove our progenitors to the surface.They’re scared. It is not that they simply deem my pursuits as unethical and dangerous. They don’t trust me. They’re scared of potential results. Isn’t about the Mursaat and their prowess over magical energies, nor of the Seers who forged the original bloodstone. I remember the disgusted faces when I read my papers on necromancy being an integral force in comprehending the Eternal Alchemy. The College of Synergetics is a farce. A carefully controlled entity, just like the other Colleges. The Arcane Council is a disgrace.The Durmand Priory are similar yet. They knew of my expulsion from the College, yet humored my inquisitorialness. My drive, my passion. Allowed my entry. My involvement piqued their interest. I used my position as one of their Scholars to gain access to archives containing vital information on bloodstone and reanimation. I should have realized they kept their Archons on my ears in secret. Caught me sneaking out cursory texts and ritual books on Orrian necromantic practices. Of course it was purely to build and refine a Magiphysical Undead Coil. Examining how the coil interacted with the polarizing Risen corruption was integral to my studies! Imperative to its relations in bloodstone modulations and interactions! The Archons destroyed it. Said it was too dangerous. Claim the energies of the fallen Elder Dragon Zhaitan for my own. “Hampering the cleansing of Orr for immature and selfish pursuits.”Even the Inquest reached out to me. Their message was clear: “your comprehension of necromancy is vital to the efficient mastery of the Eternal Alchemy. We care.”They lured me. Like the Priory. Like the College of Synergetics. I leapt to them with open arms when the message reached my hands. Should have known statistical data predicted otherwise. A tried and true system of predictive curves and algorithms that told me time and time again with absolute accuracy. Yet my frustration clouded my mind and lead me astray. I was manipulated. Controlled. Deterred from my work under the guise of authorized and employed bureaucracy. They gave me test subjects. Focus-group experimentation. Budget committee procured amounts of materials beyond and assigned me nearly limitless funds. Distracted, I built devices and machines, experimented with bloodstone. Created an army of resilient, bloodstone augmented Awakened entities. What I would have wanted, anyway. They were all failures. I was unfamiliar with the nuances Awakening idiosyncrasies despite the personal lab and provisioned equipment and research at Rata Primus. My position went to become reassigned to translate the adverse effects of bloodstone into enhancing their contractual work on perfecting the imperfect and unstable third generation of the Scarab Plague. I refused to continue utilizing my unmatched mental capacity on furthering the schemes of someone they didn’t truly understood. Note: the Inquest seeks total mastery despite the lack of understanding.They wanted me to reflect on the important virtues that I overlooked: hard work, personal sacrifice, humility. Calculated empty words to bolster morale and normalize manipulation. The Inquest didn’t care. They bought my familiarity and my expertise so they could come closer to harnessing the intricate and arbitrarily untapped undead energies of the deceased Elder Dragon. I left. But not without destroying my research and intentionally preventing their director to salvage whatever means I achieved. And not without disposing a few of their own for good. For the better.The dangers of truth are dwarfed by fear. Death and undeath are present throughout the world in every culture. Understanding their relations to it individually was a better start than foolishly relying on superiors focused on maintaining a hierarchy of controlled knowledge to selectively engage in my work. My trip to the Crystal Desert of Elona proved enlightening. Few natives boasted evolved necromancy. Completely unlike Krytan residents attempting to exemplify their human deity by mimicking his movements and meaningless shouts. Practiced techniques and procedures are infinitely greater than mindless mimicry without reason. Their Scourges practice an elaborate and patterned style of extending their power via “sand shades.” It hit me then: a breakthrough! The make-up of sand was similar in formula to the residual dust form of bloodstone. Understanding the Elonian Scourges’ complex and dynamic interlacing of constituent sand (imbued with life force) lead to the greatest idea I’ve ever conceived.Spent a year into its research. Kept all the notes to myself. Portable equipment demanded my strength. Inventions and contraption creation were scarce, but my idea would soon shine through. Others in my position would have wished they dabbled into golemancy, but my proficiency in raising and reanimating adversaries that dared cross paths with my pursuit proved an invaluable asset. Undead servitude’s a precious thing coupled with adept control over necromantic energies.Fuars Bloodbreaker. Vigil Warmaster. High ranking member of the Pact and survivor of the bloodstone explosions (and ensuing implosions) that heavily damaged a Pact airship years ago, causing its malfunction and its trajectory to crash within Bloodstone Fen. Profoundly affected by the bloodstone’s wide-ranging physiological and mental alterations. Despite such, his charr faculties allowed him impressive willpower control over typical resulting violent behaviors. I would speculate his neural network mutated to compensate for the excessive amount of bloodstone coursing through his biological systems. Regardless, this inhibitor granted him a unique buffer property, transmitting immense quantities of bloodstone magic that he could regulate and manipulate to his whim. Precisely, Warmaster Bloodbreaker—if I were to believe my sources—worked with Squad Leader Bennett and the other survivors within the Fen. He nullified White Mantle magics, to which I’ve conjectured that he equalized the two’s arcanic forces and energies, causing them to cancel each other out—eradicating the minute, elemental lattice.Yes, to my knowledge I concede that Bloodbreaker was addicted to bloodstone dust to adversative consequence to Pact survivors near his localities. However it is to be duly noted that his efforts dulled vengeful spirits subsequently following the White Mantle’s abuse of bloodstone fragments and sacrificial activities.The White Mantle personally disposed of him, however. A would-be shame, if not for me: Thanatologist Frasst.Contacted connections within my previous organizations—though maddening enough to do so in secrecy to avoid limiting and annoying repercussions. The repulsive bureaucracy. Obtained and exchanged texts and tomes imperative to drafting the blueprints of the device: a hand-sized bloodstone battery container. This process took a majority of the aforementioned year abroad. Accessible knowledge and information on Mursaat-centric soul batteries was restricted beyond protected locks. “Unsafe implications if these materials were to get out of hand.” I can still hear their mockery.Nevertheless, unparalleled progress was made! I constructed a bloodstone-forged capacitor, capable of entrapping a spirit from within the Mists and storing it inside its depths. The third postulate of my prevailing theory stated that a captured soul would have its energies resonate with the corpse of its owner. The bond a soul possesses, according to several cultures (although it is my stern belief that these peoples have reached this conclusion through coincidental, spiritual means rather than empirical scientific methods), is always attached to the physical manifestation it contained in its life.Rumors spoke and spread: Warmaster Bloodbreaker’s body had been preserved by the very bloodstone that coursed through his systems. A known and documented side-effect of bloodstone physical mutations is the enormous lessening of decay processes. Ergo, my reanimation of Bloodbreaker would not only raise a virtually indistinguishable living entity—albeit technically undead—but the resonation of his soul within my personal bloodstone battery device essentially transfers his spirit to his body within a theoretical range of the gadget.Securing his soul was tedious. Had to call in a favor from a norn associate to recover his spirit from the Mists. The charr wandered aimlessly within the proto-realm for two years, or so the norn had told me. Expended more stored necromantic potentials than calculated to bind his spirit to the bloodstone battery container. He wasn’t initially willing, but my superior knowledge and the prospect of returning to the living had enticed him to accept my offer.After scouring Bloodstone Fen and protecting myself from lingering bloodstone constructs and vengeful spirits that meander without purpose, I raised the charr—Fuars Bloodbreaker. The spell-breaking bloodstone warrior, the famed Vigil Warmaster… successfully enthralled.I’ve noted peculiar yet interesting properties from my six months of intensive studies and personal research that I have performed on him. He maintains a measured 86.4% degree of freedom (plus or minus a deviation of 1.4%), corroborating my sixth postulate that risen entities coupled with their respective soul energies in an unperturbed containment chamber exercise a majority of free will. He does not await designated command to perform standard biological functions and maintains the speech patterns that he seemingly possessed before his death.Yet, I’ve also detected a pattern that resembles a profound sense of loneliness. As my personal bodyguard, I preserve his wellbeing through constant recharging of the bloodstone battery, as well as provide him occasional nourishments in other forms of sustenance. It seems my appendicular assumption and educated guess that an entity maintained in this fashion would not require food to become adequately sustained was disproven. Despite this, my data pads show charts of recorded, emotional values, and loneliness tops the list.Why? I must test and experiment further. I must admit that his form is indeed pleasing to my mental capacity, and I concede the fact that I use him to provide warm protection for me during long, cold nights at the Shiverpeaks (a charr’s furry physiology and attributes afford for this). Experimentation and rigorous study without breaks can also be stressful for me. To reflect, I must discover a method that will satisfy both as a temporarily release from my research, but also counteracts his feelings of loneliness. Perhaps additional conversation? Genuine conversation? An increase in the bond between a servant and his master? I have experimented in manipulating emotional urges for Faurs through mental emulation and transmission to his spirit within the battery. It works to a lesser notch than I would call a success, but it is to be expected with a figure that resisted several negative effects of the original bloodstone explosion.Testing these theories further, I feel a tingling sensation ripple throughout my form and a heated concentration in certain portions I should best not describe in greater detail. A response emotion from the spirit, I’ve recorded. A pure, primal feeling of want. The bond I’ve developed with Fuars has culminated in a decrease of loneliness, but a new emotion tops the charts: desire. I will generate new methods and perform them with Fuars in response. Doing so will allow us both to find breakthroughs in bloodstone and necromantic magics in arcanic harmony and prove to Tyria that much more is possible!Fuars Bloodbreaker—my thrall—my bodyguard—but in all mechanical senses of the phrase: a research partner and an everlasting (literally), desirable man.
Feeling of Love
Artwork by OrionT on FurAffinity
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"I watched you die, Shapes... By the fire..."
"and... and... the Paper Dragon."
"I was so scared. I was so scared I lost you."
"Shapes is so glad that Vine-friend is okay."
"Shapes really happy to hear Vine-friend's voice in head again."
"A-Are you crying?"
"Shapes was so scared he no ever see Vine-friend again."
"It's been... such... a long time since I felt your tears. Since I felt your furred warmth... Since I saw your form. I missed it so much. I missed your happiness. I missed your gentleness. I was sick without you. I was so scared.""It's so hard to see on a... 'ship.' The sea washes away the heat. The rocking back and forth scares me. I'm so lost, Shapes. You're the only form I can recognize well..."
"Shapes will never leave Vine-friend again. Always be there for them."
"Never leave them again. Ever."
"Shapes?"
"W-What Vine-friend need?"
"Can... can you put your head on my chest? Where my heart is.""Is nice sound. Reminds Shapes little of when talking with trees."
"Back when I was part of my kin, we had a saying."
"Saying?"
"That when an Ihelmen is born, their soul is split. The other half journeys to another person at birth. Those two are destined to love each other and eventually discover who they are."
"What Vine-friend mean?"
"…When... I was exiled from my kin… and when I ran away from the makeshift family of similar exiles, I wanted to look for something that could help me find that other person."
"When I met you, Shapes, you didn’t even have a name. You wanted me to give you one. But you didn’t know that I don’t see like other creatures do. You were the first person I met since leaving my family"
"Shapes so glad to meet Vine-friend year ago."
"I’m… really glad too. I think… I think because while the others are still looking for something to help with their problems, I think I found what I’m looking for."
"V-Vine friend found it?! Found what they looking for?"
"It's you. You're what I've been looking for this entire time, Shapes."
"Huh?! What Vine-friend mean? Shapes so confused..."
"I love you, Shapes. You're my yōluv. You're the other half of me."
"L-L-Love... Shapes?! S-Shapes dunno what should say?"
"You're... you're shaking Shapes... Are you okay?"
"Shapes just dunno... dunno how to say it..."
"S-Say what?"
"Shapes never wanna leave Vine-friend. Vine-friend so close. Shapes miss Vine-friend lots. Wanna be with them forever!"
"For-forever...?"
"What word 'love' mean?"
"It means just that, Shapes. It means what you said.""...Vine-friend okay? Their heart go faster and their chest hotter little..."
"I... Yes. I'm okay. I'm happy. I'm so happy. Unȋvhru, I'm so happy I love you."
"Is good to love Shapes? Shapes not like Vine-friend's family."
"You’re my soulmate, Shapes, we were fated for each other. I don’t care if you’re not like my kin, nothing will quell my love. And Unȋvhru I will make sure you’re never hurt again.""S-Shapes? Are you okay?"
"You're... getting warm."
"I-Is this feeling of love?"
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm exuding too much heat? Or maybe you're getting sweaty snuggling with me for so long?"
"Is... feeling of love like flower blooming for first time?"
"I... Well, I wouldn't know. You're the one who talks to nature, right?"
"V-Vine-friend? Wha--"
"Wasn't it you who told me that flowers 'pollinate' with each other?"
"Ahh?! Umm, Shapes think so? W-What Vine-friend doing with Shapes' body?"
"...How... how does it feel when I do... this?"
"..."
"..."
"Is... g-good..."
"..."
"S-Shapes never feel... good like this b-before..."
"Should I... continue?"
"...Y-Yes.""U-Uhh… Did you lock the door? M-Most of the crew is… on the deck, I think? I don’t want any of them to catch us… doing… doing this. Not the rogue."
"O-Okay, Shapes go do it."
"Careful to not hit your head on the ceiling. I noticed you hunch when you walked in.""...You have a nice ass."
"Wha-? S-Shapes thought... Vine-friend no see like us?"
"...No. But I can see the round shape of your rear and the... uhh... bulging package on front..."
"I-I-Is... V-Vine-friend sure it okay... to feel this way...?"
"If you come here... we can both feel that way together.""If... we take our clothes off, we can feel closer..."
"B-But if Shapes and Vine-friend take off clothes then... we'd be naked?"
"I'd... I'd like that."
"S-Shapes... gets... embarrassed..."
"It's... it's okay if you don't want to."
"...Shapes wants to... for Vine-friend..."
"..."
"Shapes loves Vine-friend. L-Like... how Vine-friend love Shapes...!"
"I... uhh, I can help... but... you'd have to guide my hands, okay? I can't feel them as well as my tail.""...V-Vine-friend's hand goes... h-here..."
"So... so do I... pull down...?""Unȋvhru, that’s… that’s uhh… a big… s-shape…"
"I-Is... okay... to be out?"
"Yeah... it's... okay, I think. Does this... feel good?"
"Mmh... Y-Yes..."
"I-I don't know how much... I should tug on it..."
"S-Should... V-Vine-friend's... clothes be pulled too?"
"C-Can you... help me with them... Shapes...? I... umm... don't really know how to put on or take off... clothes...""Huh... that's... weird."
"W-Weird?"
"I can still see the shapes of my shirt on the floor. Do I... am I really that hot right now?"
"But Vine-friend... never not warm and huggable."
"..."
"Umm... V-Vine-friend...?"
"...Yeah?"
"W-What's... this... called?"
"U-Umm... I think... I think that's your dick...? Oh Fven, I-I've... never said that before..."
"Does... Vine-friend have one?"
"I... I... uhh... I think so...? But... it... isn't that... shape?"
"Can... Shapes see it?"
"U-Unȋvhru… S-Sure... I... Umm..."
"Shapes... is okay naked around V-Vine-friend. S-Shapes feels... nice... around them."
"Umm... can you help me... again...? I... It's kind of hard to unbuckle the... belt.""...T-There it is..."
"Ahh...! Is not b-bouncy like Shapes'...?"
"N-No... I... umm... I can... m-move it like... this.""V-Vine-f-friend...?"
"S-Shapes...?"
"Shapes'... dick... gets bigger when he sees V-Vine-friend's... move like that..."
"Oh... uhh... it... really... is bigger..."
"I-Is that bad...?!"
"N-No...! It-it means that... you're... umm... aroused... like... like me..."
"Shapes... a-aroused...?"
"Yeah... It... umm... means we... we love each other..."
"What happens when Shapes and Vine-friend... aroused like this?"
"There's... more things we could... do... with them... I think."
"Is... something that show... Shapes' love for Vine-friend...?"
"Can... can you carry me to the bed?""Fven, Shapes... your... dick... twitching over me... like that... that... that makes me more a-aroused... I-I think..."
"A-Ah...! V-Vine-friend...! Is dick... leaking from tip...?"
"U-Uhh...! Umm... I-I-I think... that's... that's.... supposed to happen...? I-I can see it... too..."
"I-Is okay to do that?"
"Yeah... I think... C-Can you... lick it...? L-Lick the... leak..."
"..."
"Mmf..."
"...""F-Fuck... F-Fven... S-Shapes...! Y-You d-don't have to... put... your... your entire... mouth..."
"M-Mmm...""A-Ahh... V-Vine-friend... is... tasty... like w-warm tea."
"W-What... is hole under V-Vine-friend's dick?"
"I-It's... umm... where you can put your dick... inside... I-I think."
"A-Ahh...?! H-How that work?! Shapes d-don't know how any this... works..."
"W-Well... You probably... have something a bit similar... behind you..."
"V-Vine-friend?! What tail doing near... S-Shapes' butt?!"
"It's... it's okay... D-Do you feel it...? F-Feel my tail near the hole... in your ass...?"
"Y-Ye..s..."
"How... does it feel if I... push in a bit...?"
"A-Ammff...! V-V-Vine-friend... u-using tail... to... to go inside...?"
"I... I can go... further in...""S-Shapes... you're... you're leaking all over me... too..."
"A-Ah... S-Shapes feels... g-good... when V-Vine-friend... pushes i-in..."
"...A-Are you... drooling on my head...?"
"S-Shapes... is... sorry...! He... no should be doing... t-that..."
"It's okay... Shapes... I-I can't... even see it, y'know...? I just feel it... sliding off...""H-Hey... S-Shapes...?"
"V-Vine-f-friend...?"
"..."
"..."
"C-Can... can you... put your dick... i-inside me...?"
"How... S-Shapes... d-do that?""...M-Mmmh..."
"F-Fven... It... it goes... there."
"I-It... go... in there...? In hole... below... V-Vine-friend's dick?"
"Y-Yeah... F-Fuck... It's... really b-big...""J-Just... push it... i-inside... Unȋvhru... F-Fuck..."
"Aahhnn...""A-Ahh...! V-V-Vine-friend's... dick wrap around S-Shapes'...?!"
"Push... P-Push inside... F-Fuck, Shapes... Fuck me...!""M-More... M-More... G-Go deeper... S-Shapes!"
"Auaahhh...""Shapes... A-Ahh... Ah... Go... go back... and forth...""A-Aaaauuhhh... V-Vine... f-friend... S-Shapes... w-weird... feeling..."
"Shapes... F-Fuck... F-Fven... I-I... I'm also... getting... a weird feeling...!"
"What... S-Shapes... aa-aah... d-do?"
"K-Keep... g-going... Shapes... I-I love you... S-Shapes...""I-I... I think... I think... something... might c-come... out...!"
"S-Something... a-already coming out... f-from Shapes... A-aaaaannhh...!"
"F-Fuck...! S-Shapes... Aaaahhhh!""..."
"..."
"It's... it's... all over us..."
"W-What... is... white-looking water...? V-Vine-friend's... very warm..."
"I-I... uhh... I-I don't know... B-But... it... it felt amazing. Connecting with you. Physically...""Aaahhn... I-I'm really sensitive there right now... S-Shapes...!"
"Is tasty like before... but more strong... L-Like... warm honey"
"U-Unȋvhru… I feel... it all over me... and... whatever you put inside me... I-It's... so... warm... s-sloshy..."
"Heheh... Shapes really feel happy now."
"R-Really...? I... I feel really happy too, Shapes.""What was it Shapes and Vine-friend did?"
"U-uhh... I-I heard it once... before. 'Sex,' I think."
"Sex feels nice with Vine-friend..."
"...Isn't that... going to get all over your fur? Snuggling with me?"
"Shapes can clean later... wants to snuggle with Vine-friend.""Shapes...?"
"M-mmh...?"
"Each of our kin has a special name."
"Ihelmen-people?"
"Yeah. When we're born, we're given a name that we can tell nobody else... Except when we meet our yōluv."
"Vine-friend has another name?"
"...It's 'Ammar.'"
"Ammar... Shapes will always love Ammar."
Archee's Notes:
- If it's not clear, both characters are adults.
- Shapes is a firbolg.
- As for the Ihelmen species (Vine's ancestry), they have no concept of gender, all possessing intersex bodies with a prehensile dick and a vagina in a genital slit. They live underground near volcanoes and sustain themselves via absorbing heat. Usually, they communicate via telepathy and see with infrared sight with the ear-like organs on their heads. Some Ihelmen portray genetic anomalies, such as Vine growing hair. These Ihelmen are exiled to the surface. They're a custom ancestry I made for Dungeons & Dragons!
Warm Reflections
Artwork by DragonAsis on FurAffinity
Click for full image
“’Renzo… I be tellin’ ya mon, I can’t hold one o’ yer pens wit’ me three fingers.”“You’re getting there Zenny. If you can write ‘Zen’ I know you can write ‘mafa’.”“I just don’ understand why ya need ta write down yer people’s stories. Ain’t ya towns got elders ta remember dem?”I stood up, taking the waking orange of the sun reflecting on the yellow plains and autumn leaves of Lake Adorea. My arms left the warm side of the lithe blue-furred Lightspear Troll I happily call my boyfriend, giving his white, braided hair a light ruffle in the process. Cracking my knuckles and stretching my arms behind myself, I took in the sights of the calm waters that comprised the lake and the crumbling stone walls that made up the small island dotted in the middle. On the other side of the lake lay a rocky cliff riddled with salamander drakes prowling about the lush landscape.“See those waters?” I said, standing behind him and leaning my head atop his while rewrapping my arms around his chest, “underneath the lake, underwater, is a vast set of ruined structures left by the Ascalonian people before the devastating event called the Searing.”“Well,” I continued, inflating my voice to sound like there was a point to my rambling, “they left us messages. Words and glyphs carved on the walls. Using them, the Durmand Priory I told you about before was able to decipher a clue that led to an old Ascalonian artifact.”“What does dat hafta do wit’ writin’?” He asked, his low, soothing tone masking a hint of frustration over difficulties learning the New Krytan script these past few days. It took weeks to learn and speak a few new words.“I guess the point is that people leave their histories in writing so it’s almost like we can talk to them across generations,” I smiled, breaking away from the hug and standing closer near the shore of the lake, “we don’t need to call their spirit for answers if they already wrote them down.”“So ya be sayin’ if I learn yer alphabet I can read an’ write everytin’?”“It isn’t that simple, but that’s the gist.” I gently clasped his soft left hand as I flipped back through a couple of pages in my journal that he was using as parchment to practice. I showed him the first—and currently only—entry in there. “It’s not the easiest to read now that I look back on it, but I wrote down when I first met you and your people within the Woodland Cascades.”He smirked and looked closely at the journal with his own hands, his silver face paint and copper jeweled tusks shifting with his face to give me a smug expression. “So does dat mean ya also wrote ‘bout de time we shared our mojo togetha’?”Instinctively I turned red and looked away. I scratched the back of my head, a nervous tic. “Right…” I said softly, my voice trailing off to a mutter as I crossed my arms, the slight breeze picking up, “that’s in there too.” I can’t help but remember when Dragon’s Watch somehow discovered that from him. Why that of all things?“Den I gotta learn yer alphabet so I can read it from ya.” My embarrassment subsided when I turned to see a genuine smile peeking from his tusks while tracing the pages with his fingers. Traveling with him for the past month throughout Tyria has proven to be nothing short of strange. I can only imagine how the curious Sylvari were met with the cautious residents of the world around them, and how similar these feelings were to my troll druid. I have no doubt that he’ll eventually be accepted by Tyrian society—even if he would be the only one from his tribe to venture south. But what makes me most happy is Zenny’s attitude towards everything new. He’s a natural explorer, and he greets everyone with such pleasantry and interest. Perhaps he doesn’t understand some of their fear of seeing a creature so foreign to them, or perhaps he does and he chooses to ignore it, wanting to learn more about the world beyond his tribe’s territories. Whatever the case, his touring wonder as I show him landmarks that spread from Divinity’s Reach to Lion’s Arch to Ascalon is such a welcome change to everything. With Palawa Joko on the horizon down in Elona, who knows what we might face in the future? It’s nice to spend even a small respite with him.“—mmander? Commander?” An electronic voice peered through the communicator planted within my right shoulder pauldron, “sorry to interrupt your date but I just received some grim news. You got time?”‘Grim news?’ I thought, furrowing my brows before responding, “Sure Taimi, I’ve got time.”“Long story short, I detected something strange south of your location. Undead. And it looks like it’s heading towards Ashford Forum soon.” The young asura stated, a concerned tone to her voice.“I tought ya said da Risen was no more?” Zenny said, trying to recall the recent lessons Taimi had given him via my communicator on dragon minions during a walk. She had took on a mentor role, always wanting to express the “Colleges professor” inside her. He even nicknamed her the loa of technology, the latter word being one that took a week on its own to stick.“No no, these readings don’t match Risen signatures, these have to be Awakened! More on that later Zen’mafa. For now you two really should check out that disturbance because this may be what Mechanist Ninn was warning us about! Too bad you two were on your honeymoon to hear about it.”I chuckle to myself, trying to hide my embarrassed face from a confused Zenny over the word ‘honeymoon.’ “Allllright Taimi, we’ll look into it.”The troll druid stood up, his height rivaling that of a norn, and returned my journal to me as I retrieved our gear and started strapping light-infused shards that transformed into hunting traps to my belt. “I did not know da moon be made o’ honey, ‘Renzo. ‘Ave we been mishearin’ de loas o’ de moon all dis time?” He said, his hand lining the shaft of the excellently carved owl staff he carried about.He was nervous. Throughout the past month we’ve been learning bits and pieces of how to synergize in battle during our travels, but he believed whatever was in store for us would be our toughest fight yet. We were once caught off guard protecting a mercantile caravan on its way to Lion’s Arch with a remnant centaur band. One of the merchants was struck with an arrow, and Zen’mafa rushed to her aid, channeling healing energy imbued with spirits of nature to her wound out of instinct. I was left to fend off the group of centaurs rushing towards the caravan alone. Though I was battered, I quickly learned that the Lightspear Troll seldom used his magic offensively, and perhaps that’s why he was nervous now. It was a sign of him being unsure of what to expect, and perhaps unsure of how he could protect me from the unknowns of the Awakened if I were somehow incapacitated. Or perhaps he actually thought the moon was made of honey?Equipping my winged-helmet and with a determined flare to my eyes, we set off. How could the Awakened be this far north of Elona? Was there something Braham and I missed at Rata Primus months ago? I thought we had stopped Commander Lonai! Palawa Joko’s plans for the Scarab Plague must have been progressing a lot further than I had hoped. Caking our feet with displaced dirt and glazed blades of grass, Zenny and I skirted around Lake Adorea. The lake is known to be a nesting ground for salamander drakes who wander from the rocky cliffs near the waters, and I had attempted to ignore their advances toward me, but my fixation with our task caused me to get burned by one drake’s fire breath.It was a silly mistake. My determination made me hasty, but I soon became relieved when Zenny shielded me from more flames and his cooling touch quickly abolished the burns through my metallic armor. I shook my head, helped him disperse the rest of the drakes by striking near their limbs, and pressed forward up the cliffs towards an alcove.Zen’mafa examined the charred, rocky interior of the cave. Rusty, iron supports held it up with an effigy pedestal serving as its centerpiece. He touched the pedestal and the tiny embers that lingered, and noted how it darkened the natural stone all around it. Tracing his fingers around it and sniffing the gathered dust, Zenny somehow surmised that this small nook had been abandoned for around five or so years. Near a cranny around the back corner he discovered fragile boulders, evidence of a cave-in. He had uncovered strips of splintered metal and even a horn under the rubble.“I be tinkin’ dese here rocks was recently felled, mon.” He said in his lovely accented voice, calmer than the still water that filled the lake just outside.As I was about to respond, Taimi had butt in, “He’s right. My scans indicate they’re on the other side. I’m afraid of what might lie there, but that’s why I’m miles away in safety!”I responded cautiously after the young asura had muted herself, “What do the spirits say, Zenny?”“Dey be tellin’ me dat sometin’ unusual’s happenin’ out dere.”Transforming my weapon light-shard into the longbow that resembled Dwayna’s flourishing wings, I gathered magic into a heavy shot and aimed at a weak spot that Zenny had identified in the collapsed rubble, blowing it away with a resounding rumble. After the dust had settled, we realized we attracted a dozen of fire imps batting their flame-wings toward the source of the commotion we caused. We had disturbed their cavernous home, and the anger plastered on their horned snouts boiled with fiery rage.Swift on his feet, Zenny placed a hand on the wall and conjured plant vines that rushed along the tunnel’s stone, attempting to shoot out and entangle the demonic, miniature forms of the imps. I watched, however, as the green plant matter disintegrated upon contact with the imps’ heat. The druid scoffed, annoyed at the realization that their flaming bodies were immune to such nature magic.Retaliating, the imps had whirled their burning, leathery wings into a storm, gathering fire and combining it into an all-out assault! I could feel the blaring heat rising fast, and I was barely just recovering from the heavy shot from my longbow, but I needed to act. I dropped the bow and projected my arms forward, lunging past Zenny. Bluish, transparent, shimmering energy erupted from my hands, creating a virtuous, courageous shield in front of us. Zenny covered his face in the heat of the moment, but the fiery bolts had simmered down and reduced to embers upon contact with the shield, nullifying their assault completely.“They’re open, Zenny!” I shouted, ducking my head as I was still within direct line of fire. I heard an acknowledging grunt, three taps on the ground with his wooden staff, and then suddenly, small beams of white energy blasted overhead and pierced the imps through! “Moonfire,” he called it. Despite the name, it had full effect on them, the substantial damage reducing the imps to piles of ash. Turns out, Zenny kept a reserve of magic for offensive spellcasting if absolutely needed.“Got dem snuffed out.” He said, lending a hand to stand me up. I rolled my neck to loosen up, beads of sweat developing underneath the heavy weight of the metallic Protector’s armor I donned. My boyfriend noticed, and had me close my eyes so he could wipe it off from my helmet’s breaths. We had thought the increased temperature was because of the fire imps, but when we traversed towards the end of the cavern, we were met with a landscape similar to that of Fireheart Rise.Mounds of ash, dust, and black smoke permeated the air to a dull gray-blue sky. It reminded me of the volcanic Baelfire, albeit much less fiery in nature. There were no flames in sight, just the haze of gray hanging low. I couldn’t quite get a grip on the whole situation: isn’t this region near the Shiverpeaks? Where did the snow go? How wasn’t this place accessible before? We couldn’t spot a living soul within sight, though the dead, brittle trees interspersed wildly throughout would have made that difficult anyway.“Memba how ya talked ta me about da Searing, ‘Renzo? Looks ta me like it neva went away.” The troll pondered, taking a good look at the environment before us. His speculation baffled me. How could the Searing, an event that happened over 200 years ago, still be affecting Ascalonian lands? Barren rock littered these ash-clogged fields, even after so many years. What could the Awakened possibly find here?We spent the couple dozen minutes investigating the region for any sign of Joko’s minions. Eventually, a ruined tower appeared in the horizon, attracting our attention. Even from afar, Zenny and I observed massive, rusty, broken chains connected to the tower that seemed like it once held it in place. It didn’t look magically afloat, but it was a point of interest. If anything, the undead had to be holed up there.It then hit me, this structure must have been what remained of the Wizard’s Folly tower! I remember hearing stories growing up near Divinity’s Reach plazas about the old, magnificent fairs and performances that were held around this region with spectacular use of elemental magic resembling fireworks. As a kid, I always wanted to visit Ascalon to see a show, but I was so deterred by rumors of rampaging charr killing any human in sight. Of course this was long before the Ebonhawke Treaty, and I also hadn’t realized the Searing had destroyed and sealed the locale centuries in the past.“’Renzo? Ya seein’ what I be seein’?” Zenny whispered, removing me from my daydreaming reminiscence. Over a barren hill we perched upon, the blue-furred druid pointed to an entrance within the dense ruins of the tower. The debris and rubble were coated in tar, leaking and spilling into natural moats that surrounded the immediate area. The only way to the raised center was through a natural land bridge.“Awakened.” More specifically, a group of five Awakened observing an immense alpha fire imp magically sealed and chained to a tall, leaning, stone pillar with rusted traces and scraps of green metal shingles. Their tar-covered, mummified forms made it obvious that they took a liking to the area around them, and their shiny golden, redundant armor with excessive wing-like protrusions stuck out like a sore thumb. Their physiology had given Zenny the impression that they were influenced by the dark Yul’kilk corruption back near his tribe’s homelands.He was trying his best to hide it, but the troll definitely showed cracks of tension while we planned to defeat the Awakened. Though my experience in Elona, Istan, and even the Sandswept Isles spoke for itself, Zenny was worried about my wellbeing. My posture relaxed from hearing such heartwarming concerns despite the severity of the situation. I found myself spacing out in his eyes before he pulled me back together, reminding me that “dem undead creatures” were still abound. Gods, these feelings have been hindering my ability to fight and concentrate; I have to refocus myself! C’mon Lorenzo, you’ve taken down two Elder Dragons, two fallen, rogue gods, dismantled the White Mantle, and so many more things that Tyria needed you for… and you’re stumbling over something as small as this.After confirming our plan of attack, we fist bumped and went into position, closing in on their location as silently as we could. Preferring a backline support role, Zenny fell back and hid behind high, ash-ridden elevation, poised to aid me however he can. Similar high cliffs flanked the opening of the natural, barren land bridge, and that’s where I set up. Pressing a light-shard into the ground, I channeled energy to form a Test of Faith trap, and then took a deep breath. I looked back at Zenny and gave a smile warmer than the desecrated landscape around us, though I realize it must have been hard to spot through my helmet.I slid into view of the Awakened, making myself known. Two Canids with twisted, canine helms and boiling eyes turned toward my direction, their savage claws sharpened and reflective. My resolve firm, I stood my ground and watched as the other three bulky and brutish undead reached for their weaponry. They yelled collectively, their voices tainted with the sluggish movement of tar congesting their throats, “It was a fool’s thought to come here, the harrowing begins! For Joko!”
“Go ahead, hit me!” I retaliated, provoking them further. The two Awakened Canids burrowed furiously into the scorched earth, aiming to get the drop on me. I could feel the ground shake, but for the trap to be successful, I needed their Defiler to be disabled as well – Awakened spellcasters are seldom useful in close range. She attempted to conjure magic, but was interrupted when I transmuted my weapon light-shard into a spearhead of pure light energy and hurled it at her, the trail quickly manifesting into a physical chain.The Canids were practically underneath me at this point; I had to be swift on my feet. I focused magic towards my hands and rendered my verdict, yanking the chain and the Defiler with it using as much borrowed strength I could channel. Startled, the ground beneath me quaked, and I had to release the chain to make an evasive roll backwards. Luckily, the stumbling Defiler was pulled with the pouncing Canids as my trap activated! Ash and broken rock scattering in the air, bits of magical rays pierced the sediment, indicating that the Awakened were crippled and constrained within the confines of the snare.With that, the robed druid took their entrapment as his cue. I shifted back, still skidding from the evasive roll (rolling is slow in heavy armor). Training my attention towards the nearby dead tree we marked, I heard a hefty grumble as its base uprooted with efflorescent magic, tiny vibrant mushrooms and flora suddenly sprouting to remove the tree from the earth.Crush! The tree had fallen upon the ensnared Awakened, smashing them with an immense weight. Cries of defeat echoed when our strategy pulled off without a hitch. If they weren’t reduced to piles of tar and bone by now, then I don’t know what would have sent them back to the Mists.“Yer back, mon!” I heard before my left shoulder was struck with a tar-coated arrow. Gah! We weren’t done yet! I left myself vulnerable to the two remaining Awakened Archers still on the other side of the strip, but I wouldn’t let up yet. Their battle cries roared with one of the Archers, having an orange gem affixed to its crown-like hat (which I was confident they were molded onto their undead skulls), unshackling the chained fire imp! Weary from the Awakened’s arrow enveloped with magically distorted tar, I didn’t have time to react when the imp unleashed a burst of flame toward my direction. The fiery bolt alighted the tar coating my form, causing a row of burning fire to make deep burns! I clasped my shoulder, gritting through the searing pain. I’ve had worse fighting flaming Destroyer minions, but the burning agony was never welcome to begin with.Zenny rushed to my aid, calling for the help of the spirits and slicing the air with his owl staff, its glowing wings projecting a wave of feathery energy towards the Awakened. Motes of gentle light resembling fireflies lingered as the wave collapsed upon the enemy, the solar wrath immobilizing the trio. He started to pat down the growing fire on me, but I yelled for him to focus on the Archers, our battle not over yet. Grimacing but understanding danger was still present, the druid urged me to notch my longbow and prepare a strike. I bore through the boiling pain that reached my chest, causing my vision to slightly falter, but I bit my lip and released an arrow aimed at the entangled Awakened. The tall troll harnessed the still air around us and ushered a breeze to accentuate the arrow, puncturing both the Awakened’s exposed weaknesses! They were defeated, and Zenny’s utilized the essence of nature to extinguish the remaining alpha imp, leaving it open to another arrow.Without a moment’s hesitation my partner had returned to me when the enemy had lie beaten. “It be okay, ‘Renzo. Let de autumn season cool ya,” he said before summoning blooming flowers of various warm colors to soak and absorb the burns. Their tranquil touch stuck to my body in between the layers of my armor, revitalizing and rejuvenating my spirit and my skin. The burns gradually vanished and my wound sealed, feeling as if the tar-coated arrow had never struck me. “I be glad yer spirit be acceptin’ o’ nature’s cure. It be only a small repayment o’ how ya saved me before.”We hugged for a moment, glad to belong by each other’s side, but we still had work to do. Why were the Awakened here? Zenny was unnerved by the rubble and destruction of the tower, but he was also unused to large civilization in general. We examined our surroundings closely, trying to garner any information to the purpose of their visit this far north. Turning over disturbed rocks and ash-covered tower fragments, increased from the alpha fire imp’s death, we uncovered a passageway that lead underground cleverly hidden around some of the wreckage.Mutually agreeing, we head inside, confident that whatever may lie below was likely the source of the invading Awakened. As I climbed down the fragile stone stairs towards the bottom of the centuries-abandoned chamber, my body froze. Sigils planted on both sides of the wall had released their paralyzing magic, and I stood there completely stunned and unmoving. It’s yellow, vine-like energy wrapped around me intensely, my teeth clenched, my stare wide, and my muscles locked. Afraid, Zenny hurried down the steps. Luckily the trap had only one activation, so he was unaffected, but we were greeted by a hulking figure emerging from the shadows.“Well done, Commander.”“Ah, ’Renzo?!” Zenny turned to the figure, seeing what they had done to me. They revealed themselves to be a masculine Mordant Crescent Hierarch, a member of the elite unit serving Joko and Joko only. His mummified shoulder plates protruded to form shield-like barriers around his arms with khaki-colored fabric hanging from every inch of his skeletal body. His white, regal-cut robes oozed with tar, and the circular, bony staff he carried was ornamented with brass chains and other fleshy bits. The white orbs that served as his eyes reflected the red-orange light originating from around the corner at the end of the passageway. But it also showcased his amused look to my complete inability to do jack.“Succumbed to my trap, did we, Lorenzo? I hadn’t expected the Sunbringer to easily stumble upon it, you know.” This guy’s remarks are worse than Joko’s. The Awakened Hierarch continued, cocking his head to the side, “Oh, but I see he also brought his newfound… love? Fortunate for the Commander, there is one word, that, when uttered, can deactivate the paralysis.”“An’ what dat word be?!”The confident undead frontloaded a smug face, lifting his head and moving his oozing staff with as little effort as possible to magically trace the letters of the word in the air in front of him.Zenny stared at lingering word, bewildered.Oh no.He can’t read yet.“Go ahead, filthy creature. I can’t claim to understand the faintest idea of what you are, but if you’re intelligent, I presume you have at least the capacity to read?”Thoughts ran in my mind, but I had no way of showing them. I could read the New Krytan clearly, but I knew Zenny couldn’t. My mistake had costed me greatly and this was exactly the type of thing he feared. It even felt as if my emergent panic was stifled by the paralysis, each individual crack in the ruined stone tunnel around me visible in great detail. Throughout the years I had trained myself to be calm in situations like these and to search around in case I missed anything, but I couldn’t. Not with my eyes locked in place. But I also knew Lightspear Trolls did not go down without a fight, and their provoked rage often went unmatched. Show me a berserker and show me a Lightspear Troll and I’ll tell you that the troll is victorious.But I couldn’t tell if Zenny was enraged or terrified. Both, maybe. He tightly gripped his staff and charged forward, directing natural energy to transmute the elegantly carved staff head into unbreakable iron. Seeking to pummel the Hierarch, the troll dashed, imbuing his staff with nature’s power on top. With a mere flick of the wrist, the Awakened shifted crumbled stone, dust, and ash into a fissure of tar that snared and slowed Zenny, his lower legs wrapped in thick ooze. The Awakened stood comfortably, amused, and there was nothing I could do.“Wrong decision, creature.” He said to Zenny, his choice of using the word ‘creature’ over and over infuriated me to no end, especially when using it with that condescending tone. I wanted to smash him to bits and pieces and ship him back to Joko; he could take his borrowed humor back!Zenny’s braided white hair was frazzled, and I gathered from his thin layer of blue fur turning red that something was coming. Please… don’t hurt yourself…! Mordant Crescent soldiers are elite for a reason, Zenny! I so desperately wanted to protect him—he had no idea what he’s toiling with. The gears churned. He was trying. Trying so hard to figure out something, anything.“Another wrong decision and I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel this performance. Continue the show to my master’s grand script, you see.”“I don’ be knowin’ much,” he started in a low tone, glaring at the Hierarch, “but I do know dat word be ‘freedom’!”“What?!”The paralysis faded. Transforming my light-shard into its frostforged greatsword form, I knew what to do. Before the Hierarch could react, I tightly grasped the frozen handle of the heavy sword and leapt a leap of faith over the tar fissure. I threw my momentum and thrust the rime-seeping blade through a confounded, mummified champion’s stomach. The shocked look dressing his face told me all I needed to know, and twisted the blade to freeze him from the inside, his bones inoperable and the tar solidifying his body from the cold.“You… fools! This was never written in the script...!”I retracted my blade, causing a heap of undead tar and ooze to disassemble underneath a platter of royal white robes. “I like to improvise.” The Hierarch was dead.Taking a look back at Zenny, I noticed that he had calmed down considerably, his blinks and breathing heavy. He aided me in carving the tar and breaking it from wrapping around his lower legs. The Awakened had him cemented deep to the stone. It’ll probably take a while to scrub it entirely from his bare feet.“Zenny?” I started, looking up toward him, “How were you able to read that word in only a few days?”He closed his eyes, giving a thin and wide smile. His hands still slightly trembled from the earlier rage he had built up and forcibly calmed down in such a short time span. “Ya wrote it down in ya journal, mon. When ya be talkin’ ‘bout de Skasaat Tribe. We Lightspears bled for our freedom from dem years ago.” One of the troll’s hands found the shoulder he had healed earlier, rubbing the armored shoulder guard and feeling its lightly textured wings and swirls. “Dat word be born in our blood, and we be dyin’ by dat word if it means ta be free, ‘Renzo. Foreva.”I recall having recounted that section to him one particular night in Lion’s Arch. His resonation to that word and his fascination of our language and New Krytan… It certainly was meaningful. And it prevented our doom. Ultimately that’s probably more important. What a coincidence that the one word to dispel the paralysis sigil was that specific word, huh.Once more, we weren’t done. My boyfriend may have saved my ass due to my recklessness but I don’t owe him more drinks. Not yet. Well, at least two. Probably just two. So far. We rounded the corner to the source of the red light at the end of the hall and discovered a circular, flickering portal. It looked unstable, so I held off Zenny from approaching. As soon as I took a few more cautious steps, closely examining for any other paralysis sigils or hostile glyphs, the portal disintegrated, fading to the Mists. The red-orange glow it produced had disappeared along with any chance of uncovering the means of how the Awakened arrived here.We eventually left the Wizard’s Folly tower with more questions than answers. How were the Awakened able to use portal technology when I killed Commander Lonai at Rata Primus? What was Joko’s plot? Was his purpose to send squads of minions to central Tyria? Why? To scare us into submission? Or, another, ulterior purpose? There has to be layers to his schemes, but for now Zen’mafa and I deserved a bit of rest. I was sweaty after an extended period of time in a Searing-sealed region after all.The walk back was as peaceful as it could get with monotonous gray mounds of ash and uninteresting barren rock and stone the only environmental landmarks around. With such heat in close proximity to the Shiverpeaks, there must have been some sort of anomaly that prevented the land from recovering like with all of Ascalon north of it. The Durmand Priory will want to hear of this, so I’ll have to send word to them at a later point. Returning to Lake Adorea, the lush sights and the beautiful autumn colors was a much-needed welcome for sore eyes. The setting sun’s lowering gaze casted long shadows from every raised point.Zenny clung closer to me than usual. I admit, it’s taking a while to get used to being in a relationship, especially one that’s gone public to Dragon’s Watch and probably the rest of Tyria… But once in a while, I like to hold his hand out in the open. And this one was one of those whiles. …I’ll have to work on that relationship thing sometime soon. But that’s why I keep a journal now, right? Gods, it’s still surreal to be able to describe this sort of sensation in any way.We happened upon the industrial Ashford Forum, each of our steps reverberating on the charr settlement’s hallowed metal slopes. It was a locale befit for craftspeople and warriors seeking to prove themselves in the local fighting pit. Charr representative of all High Legions found this place their home, furthering their skill or using the opportunity to trade their wares. I visited this place a few years ago, just after the Ceasefire between charr and humans and before the Orders had united to become the Pact. The constant smell of burning coal and the cold, glinting iron and steel that fabricated every inch of charr construction was one of the Forum’s main highlights.Despite the distrusting stares from the uniformed who had never before seen one of Zenny’s kind, we found our way to the Forum’s quaint Crafter’s Crossroads, a small cantina holding a second floor resting quarters for explorers and travelers. Whenever we reach settlements or towns like these, Zenny usually stays quiet and sticks by me. He feels like stirring things up with his presence “won’t be for a jammin’ time.” But the charr aren’t noiseless cats; I’ve visited the Hero’s Canton previously on trips with old friends years ago. They roughhouse as a means of relaxing during their leaves. It’d be impossible to pass by any charr without them picking a fight with Zenny.Which is why securing a private room was difficult enough. “And who are you to bring something like that to stink up our company?” Its keeper said, lowering his head to my height with red ruffled fur, a scar across his nose, and one of his four ears missing.I wiped sweat developing on my eyebrows after removing my helmet. His demeanor was a common charr tactic to intimidate humans, but it hasn’t worked on me in years. “Lorenzo Frost. Perhaps you heard of the man who killed the Flame Legion Imperator 6 years ago?” I crossed my arms, tired from the day but also his attitude.He straightened his back, scratched the one remaining ear on the right side of his face, and gave Zenny a scrutinizing look. “The blue troll’s with me,” I added, the dirt and ashy scratches to my armor and his decorated green and brown owl-motif robes evident of our work, “touch him and you’ll find out what a dragon looks like up close.”
The keeper didn’t cower like I had pictured he would, but I’m sure he figured that causing any trouble would have not meant well for business. Or perhaps it would have caused a great increase in festivity. There were norn here and they would have loved a great bar fight, but I’d rather not call Aurene right now. And thankfully he didn’t call through my bluff. I slid a couple of coin over the table and guided a silent Zenny to our lodging at the end of a hall after climbing loose iron strips of spiral steps to the second floor.Expectedly, scraps of loose metal scattered the floor of our room. Dust littered the relatively large bed with one of its wooden legs cracked, supported by spare, unused iron plates. Corroded chains interlocked with bent bars to support the structure of the hall and the room. My partner had instantly removed his bulky, feathery shoulder pads, the bright, teal and crescent moonstones that float above the owl faces had lowered to its deactivated state. The nimble, lovely troll stretched his arms, yawning. When his back straightened and he wasn’t hunched, he was easily a tall norn’s height.I started the sometimes lengthy process of removing my armor, though rough, long days can cause it to be as slow as a crawl. Zenny helped, and thank the gods he did, as his warm, tender hands sent fond shivers down my spine. His gentle touch and calm grin, even in completely unfamiliar environments, will never be anything less than indicative of his love for me. It was his way of luring my happiness to the front, and he knew how to use it well. He’ll take any chance he can get in my fast-paced lifestyle of Commandership to bring out that smile I subconsciously hide.Our bare clothing, particularly mine, had well endured perspiration, sweat having stained my armpits and my neck. Zenny embraced me, finding the sweet spot to plant his loving lips on mine while he caressed and felt my exhausted arm muscles. Tiny rays of moonlight poured through the only window and through the Plain’s swaying trees. It was stupidly romantic, but damn I needed this. I played with his pointy tusks, using my finger to line the jewelry attached to them that he fancied. I slightly twisted and turned the wrappings and copper end-piece that covered the tip of them. It was probably one of the most attractive things I found about him, and he laughed a guttural, but soft laugh whenever he felt my touch. It was cute. Like him.We slowly stripped each other nude. It was traditional for trolls of the Lightspear Tribe to rest naked after surprisingly eventful weeks. The loa of black luck is a brown hare that demanded personal reflection and incense. Performing a soft, meditative ritual surrounded by the aroma and smoke of the incense appeases the spirit of Manuia, who is said to bless the troll with meaningful change, health, and luck. Zenny mentioned that carrying out the ritual was to be done nude, as the individual’s bare form is a reflection of the spirit within them. After everything that had happened this past month, I happily complied and took part in his ceremony.After the whole deal of destroying Balthazar in the Crystal Desert, I’ve viewed religion and spirituality with a new light. Several of my own people despise me for having killed one of the Six Gods. Blind faith is a powerful force, and my own devotion in Dwayna shook last year. Nevertheless, Zenny had a deep connection to the spirits he reveres. As a druid it was necessary for him to form that link, but his kin are chiefly intertwined with their loa and the traits they represent, and they incorporate it in every aspect of their lives and community. In a way, they weren’t that different from the norn.Since 1325 AE when I was sent to help Shaemoor as a combat medic for the Seraph and… somehow… later ending up becoming the Commander of the Pact that year, I transformed into a more practical person. I was always told I was blessed by Dwayna, and my natural talent for mending and protecting the hurt supported their opinion. That constant reinforcement gave me purpose to my life. But I never took up worship. My fate was in my hands, I thought, and I always wanted to believe Dwayna had given me that power as well—as one of her “children,” I suppose. In the past six years, however, I’ve met multitudes of folk where worship and spirituality were core aspects of their lives and their identity. With Zenny’s attunement to nature and its spirits, I too, been affected by his spirituality somewhat since meeting him.The nude, blue-furred troll retrieved a tiny gray pouch and took two even smaller purplish cones from it, accompanied by their own respective brass disk-shaped holders. On the cool metal floor we sat cross-legged and faced each other, our knees touching. Zenny gently attached the cones to their holders and placed them perpendicular to us, just a bit off to our sides.“Dese be lavender incense cones, mon. Burnin’ dem shows Manuia dat we be lookin’ for grace an’ purity,” Zenny whispered with the softest voice he could manage, “so dat our future togetha be devoted to each otha’ an’ dose we protect.” He slowly took a small wax candle from the same pouch and lit it with a minute mote of fire magic from the tip of his finger. Despite being really sweaty and nude on this hot night, the soothing atmosphere of Zenny’s ritual relaxed me. His serene face never shifted as he took the candle and lit the incense on both our sides, where he placed the candle away and took to holding my hands.The incense smoke rose in the air, its aroma permeating the room. The fresh scent made its way to my nose and I admit it was more pleasing than I expected. Zenny guided me throughout the ritual, his riveting low voice more enthralling than any mesmer’s illusion. We took turns recounting significant experiences in our lives, what we learned from them, and how they affected us. Two dozen minutes in and we both serendipitously ended up talking about how we met each other, and nothing but positive words were spoken for that. His touch and his voice warmed me, and even with my eyes closed, I could still imagine his reassuring, tender smile.We ended the ritual when the incense fully burned, the cones depleted. To my surprise, I opened my eyes to a blushing Zenny and a semi-erect troll penis. He didn’t even attempt to hide it, and only seemed to be more comfortable when he saw me react and turn red myself.“Heheh… Sorry, ‘Renzo. Sometimes I can’t help but tink ‘bout da time our mojo intamingled.”I turned my eyes away, progressively getting more embarrassed as I recall the events. My own lower parts also seem to be recalling it. “It was one of the best times of my life, Zenny.” I said, my voice trailing off.The attractive troll bent forward and pressed a hand on my chin, lifting my face up to see his close to mine. “I been smellin’ ya all dis time, ‘Renzo... I can’t get enough o’ ya… Please let me…” He interrupted himself by nuzzling with my face, careful of his tusks, and taking good whiffs of my musk. Startled, I accidentally fell on my back, but his nude lithe form loomed over mine, and his face spelled mischievous and want. He pressed his forehead against mine and our noses touched, his more elongated. Breath escaping me, the troll intimately caressed the shoulder he had healed earlier in the day, dragging the three fingers of his left hand down to my arm, and then to my hand, where he kissed each of my fingers seductively.“Ahh, Zenny…” I moaned, his face massaging against the side of my chest with his nose pressed into my armpit. He was so attracted to my scent he didn’t even seem to notice his dick rubbing against my thighs, considerably turning me on. When was the last time we did anything like this? I needed him. His cozy fur… his unfiltered horniness… his hardened rod… It tingled and sent rippling vibrations throughout me. Reflecting on my journey to this point and stumbling across someone I love with all my heart… and to know that feeling’s fully reciprocated… I know we’re unstoppable, and I need to show him that.He drew away, eyeing me with a twinkle in his eyes and color rising in his cheeks, barely noticeable with the silver face paint. Letting go a long exhale, he smiled broadly, “Fuck ‘Renzo… Ya give off a musk more stronga den any beast o’ nature I encounta’d.” His eyes fell to my crotch, and once more the combined scent of the lingering lavender and his pent-up sexuality warmed me intensely. He spread my legs, settling them wide and tracing them with loving scratches. Finally, the cool kiss of his nose pressed to my coinpurse, taking extensive whiffs of whatever smell it exuded that he frenzied after. His licks slightly tickled at first, but the physical contact drove me over the edge, my dick throbbing with an unmet need. The chuckles of his rumbling voice sent warm puffs spreading over my sack, where he found a comfortable position to settle his tusks and to begin suckling me, his eyelids low and drowsy from the long day and half-hour of meditative self-reflection.It took me a moment to realize I was squirming as he drew my sack taut a playful second before spreading his lips and angling his head to consume one heavy, rolling nut whole. His moans surrounded that sphere, and they echoed throughout me, sending small shudders up my belly. My shaft reached its peak, and it swayed and rested over his head, just shy of his tusks. His lavish licks and twirling, massaging strokes of my balls and my thighs teased me to no end, and I moaned his name and practically begged for more.Zenny leaned up to nuzzle my thick-throbbing length, a low hum hanging in his throat reminiscent of our first time together. Each time cautious of his tusks, he lays low, slow kisses to my member’s sides, working up and around it like a lazy, wandering stroll along the Antu’kah Ripple. Drips of my precum met his face halfway, rolling down the side of my aching cock. He anticipated it with open lips, suckling and licking up each leak to just under my tip.“Z-Zenny...?” I wondered, his pause maddeningly teasing, and the warm and smoky, incense-filled air somehow dreadfully and cruelly chilled on my wet, pre-coated tip. Right into his waiting mouth and focused, yet berserk eyes had his prize, another fresh serving of pre, trickling onto the tip of his hungry tongue. Zenny circled my tip, cooing and kissing my needy flesh, naturally navigating me with gracile maneuvers. Never once had his tusks grazed my crotch, even when he hung sideways to take a slow, deep suckle at the very side of my exposed head. I groaned loudly at that, probably having woken up the unlucky individual in the room before us.Only when a ripe, precarious bead formed at my tips, white, creamy, and trembling with my pulsing heartbeat—when it was on the very edge of breaking down on either side—did the magnificent troll finally ascend. Elegantly, his tongue curled around the underside of my head, rolling to a cup before the first contact of my pink-red head broke the glob and that thick, wanting seed spilled into his wanton mouth. A deep groan dragged from the inner depths of his throat as he met my eyes once more, his tongue stretching to lather and enjoy his hot meal before having soaked me with my own juices.“’R-Renzo... should I be goin’ more?” He loomed over me, trying his hardest to please me, mustering every ounce of strength and every facet of dexterity to do so.“Y-Yes… Zenny, I’d l-love that…” With a shadow casting over my thirsting cock, he inspected it closely. There was a hunger in his eyes, a thirst insatiable with anything but the mojo of his lover. Using that hidden hunger, and breathing as deeply as I could, his lips spread again to a new position just over my cockhead.Then, bliss. My head disappeared, fully encompassed in his warm, wet embrace, eating me up inch by inch, his nose slightly bending when it reached my pubic hair. That… masterful… tongue curled and dragged and stroked and lashed over me, following every line, grinding along every curve, caressing me one moment, and then punishing the next. The troll knew my every inch; that I had no doubts after his deep delving exploration and his adoration of my musk, which he’d undeniably got more whiffs of. The scent of my desperate body lingered and sometimes overpowered the decaying fragrance of lavender incense, causing his tongue to map new paths around my member, deeper into my flesh. Every time a flesh gob of precum formed, Zenny, with perfect rhythm, scooped it up and over, swabbing it over my achingly, sizzling rod. The artful troll claimed more of me, expanding his territory and savoring every moment of his thorough oral examination. Like Zenny would temporarily transform sections of my skin into bark for defensive sturdiness during battle, I felt the very same sensations wave throughout me, the utter tension of holding myself completely in place enough to ache every limb from head to toe. My hands kept grasping for something to dig into, but the sheer cold metal and the hard floor of the Crafter’s Crossroads made it a poor effort. By now, my balls were surely churning, maybe even sloshing… and the druid’s occasional cupping of my sack reminded him of the loose pair of balls that gave him the mojo he demanded. At one point, I instinctually jerked my hips. Zenny’s composure slightly tilted, but his shiny, brown eyes disappear into the rolling darkness of his thin fur as he regained mastery over my cock.Pushing deeper, Zenny steadily claimed every inch of my dick, paying no mind to his bent nose rubbing against my crotch and taking in the aggressive smells of my sweat and spirit. My tip had started to grind snug into the tight confines near his throat, causing me to roll my head back, biting my lips in any attempt to relax. He honed in, and I could feel him going deeper than I had imagined, and the tender pleasure had begun to mix in with fierce tension, a bizarre, yet even more arousing blend of lovemaking I hadn’t believed existed. Gods… The stretch… the strain… Each rhythmic press opening a deeper, wider passage.A shattering breath, a feelsy inhale, and an agonizing slowness came about from his quivering over swallowing the full, throbbing bulk of my rod, teeming with the blossoming seed of life. I cried out, so desperate for him to pull me down deeper into his throaty depths, grabbing hold of his unbraided, white hair that fell from his head. I could see his own seed drooling into a pool of white, but it was barely noticeable with each movement of his tongue and lips throwing my head back into a blurred vision of ecstasy.Fully slamming to my root, without a care for his half-bent nose and his tusks grazing against my crotch, my body became stiff, my moans silenced as my balls unraveled and unleashed in full virtuous, mighty fury. They pumped shots down his throat, splattering his stomach with every piece of mojo he wanted with the very essence of my spirit and soul. My hearing escaped me, but I could feel the low hums of Zenny’s satisfaction reverberate as he seized and drunk every drop of my white hot cum, relishing every drop before noisily swallowing it. My head spun fervently, and my head rested on the cool, hard floor of reality.I slumped back, Zenny’s teasing tongue tasting its last, tremendous tang, grooming and cleaning me. My boyfriend settled to my right, caressing and stroking me softly with an adorable leftover drip of my spunk hung from his lip. His hands continued to bury their thick fingers in and around my nuts and my oversensitive length. I was drained beyond belief, and it took minutes before my senses would fully return. I wrapped an arm around him, and the desire from his face near my armpit made him lustfully grin.“How was dat, mon?”“Amazing…”Without breaking eye contact, I stretched an arm to his own hardened, leaking rod, and the resulting lull of his eyes when I barely grasped his trollhood drew a laugh from both of us.“You forgot something.” I pulled him closer to my armpit, taking advantage of his love for my musk.“Heheh,” he chuckled, licking them, the tickle causing me to twitch, “everytin’ about ya spirit and yer mojo begged fa me. I had ta take care o’ it, ‘Renzo.”
“Hey, I want a sweet taste as well. Is… is this what always happens with this kind of ritual…?”“Nah, mon,” he started, picking me up kindly within his warming, fuzzy hands and bringing me to the rough, pillow-ridden bed, “dis de luck Manuia blessed us wit’. Ya lovely smell a great boon, but his luck be manifestin’ in different ways.” Zenny had me settled comfortably—drained, but cozy—atop the sheets, careful to avoid the spent incense cones and sifting through the final remains of the smoke that remained of our pre-sex ceremony. I could smell the salty ooze of my cum with every word he spilled and, after laying me down lightly, he made sure to adjust the pillows underneath my neck. Despite being so horny and a trail of his pre staining our rented room, he was still so patient.But that was short lived. He climbed atop the bed, his crotch to my face, and held onto the frail bed supports behind me and the rusted chains that lined the ceiling of the room. “Tap me twice if ya wanna stop, mon. Lemme work ma voodoo and give ya a good taste.”Inches from my face… a throbbing, needy troll cock, leaking on my cheeks, its fleshy head insisting for a caring hole. I forgot how larger his was compared to mine… but I readily accepted his offer, opening up my mouth and curling my tongue around the tip of his dick, dragging that man’s sweet, fruity flavor down my throat and into my belly. His knees trembled on the bedsheets, just shy of my waist, after feeling the waves of euphoria hit him, his moans loud and relieving for having his wanton needs finally met.Wary of his own girth, he slowly inserted the tip of his twitchy, hot member into my mouth, and used his grip to swing back and forth. His balls swayed and roiled, my resting tongue provided his underside all the friction he ever desired. Fucking my face, his rod throbbed and throbbed, releasing proverbial loads of his preseed down my throat. I held onto his hips, and tuned to his rhythm of steady humps, aiding in his enthused, but cautious thrusts. Then, I moved a hand to grab a cozy butt cheek, tugging a rather peaceful groan from his throat, and squeezed with my fingers.“A-Ahh.. ‘R-Renzo…!”His rod stiffened halfway inside, and moments later I felt a rushing surge of troll juice flow freely down my throat, Zenny’s sighs cresting in deep-toned rasps and moans. He tenses and shudders, trying to keep himself still in attempts to not dislocate my jaw, but couldn’t help but shove an extra length of himself down me, opening my mouth a tad wider to take the color of his vibrant seed and plant it in my stomach with sinuous passion. I felt his tension rise with each second of splurging spiritually spunk coating the insides of my mouth, the troll riding the power of a wondrous orgasm, his every exhalation a wet, heaving sigh of overwhelming emotion. The first few jets bounce off my palate, quickly washing all throughout it with a white layer of cum. Soon enough, his strength ebbed, his legs trembled, and he had clumsily collapsed by my side, watching me swallow the remnants of his own, shared mojo.I smiled wryly to an almost apologetic look he gave for conjuring his geyser so quickly in comparison, our leaky, spent cocks enjoying their relaxed, floppy selves alongside our emptied sacks.“Sorry for dat, mon… ya took me by s’prise an’ I couldn’t stop meself…”I felt his robust, yet slender abs and twirled my tongue with his in a passionate kiss, sharing a tiny drop of his own sexuality with him. “Hah… How’s it taste?”He swirled his tongue around his cheeks as if examining the uses of an herb he found in the wild of the Woodland Cascades, giving a sly smirk with his response, “like a troll in love wit’ his soulmate.”Knowing just how to get to my heart, he took my resulting blush and shifted closer to me on the bed, wrapping an arm under and around me, keeping cozy. It was also great neck support, his furred arm a better pillow than any of the ragged, barely-stuffed cushions here. The moonlight’s rays stroked our skin with the hot, sweaty night that graciously lent itself to our wonderful time together in a sort of ritual cocksucking. It was a great prelude to the end of the month, to be frank. With the loa of black luck supposedly having blessed us, I look forward to our travels together. Palawa Joko is on the horizon, after all, and we’ll need to be ready to counter any ambush he throws at us.“Hey, Zenny? Would you mind handing me my journal?”“What’cha wantin’ dat for?”“Well, I have writing to do,” I started, a smile creeping on my face after today’s earlier events thanks to my rashness, “I promise you’ll read it soon enough.”
New Discoveries
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My name is Lorenzo Frost. I’m the Commander of the Pact, leader of Dragon’s Watch, and the slayer of two Elder Dragons, the rogue god of war Balthazar and the fallen god of death Dhuum. Some call me the Sunbringer, and others the second blessed child of Dwayna. I’ve disassembled plots to overthrow my Queen, Jennah of Divinity’s Reach, from the White Mantle, somehow became the chosen foster father of the offspring of the Crystal Dragon Glint and learned of Tyria’s deepest, most hidden secrets.And I think I lost my virginity.Uh, I think I should probably give some background before I get into it. I spent the new turn of the year in Divinity’s Reach, promising my good friend Andrew to help out in the Salma. We caught up on the comings and goings of the city and my life as the Commander and the consequences and infamy associated with it. True to his word, the inn was busy with clientele familiar and old. Many splashed their drunken faces with ale to celebrate the New Year and a rescued realm from Balthazar. Some others tapped on the soft wooden tables to the minstrels strumming their tunes near the rear end by the red tapestries, lightning the mood. It was noisy and the clattering of drinking glass and boastful banter flashed with waves of nostalgia. I missed Andrew’s inn, and between the curious inquiries of my identity—of which I tried desperately to conceal—it was a good reminder of the denizens of Divinity’s Reach. The working class, the cogs of Kryta that keep it turning and going. I used to be a part of that life, and it was much simpler back then.Still, the one memory that sticks out to me from those few nights was one conversation I had with Petra a lonely night repairing the destroyed tables that resulted from a long game of Belcher’s Bluff between a few patrons. It was past dusk and the district was dwindling its festive energy. Cross-legged with her patched saturated violet and olive blouse, sitting atop a slightly battered barstool, she pondered, “Hey, Renz, you found anyone special yet?”Puzzled, I stood to face her. She sported an almost sly smirk, fiddling with her slightly silvered braided pigtails that draped to her midsection. “You can tell me, right?” She said, pointing towards the empty lobby, “Traveling across Tyria and beyond with so many laurels to your name. Surely you must have found a special someone, right? Tell me about her!”“Her? Oh, uh, you mean, like, a date? A girlfriend?”She paused, wiping the smile from her face momentarily, “Ah, sorry, I forget that you’re not into women.”As I tried to respond, she perked back up, standing from her chair, “Still! My question stands! Any attractive guys? I heard that Braham fellow’s popular with the Norns. Isn’t he in your guild?”I remember chuckling a bit, not necessarily because Petra must have imagined me with Braham at some point, but more of the thought that dating and love never really crossed my mind then.“Haha, no Petra, he isn’t. I haven’t seen the bastard in a while. Either way I guess I just haven’t felt any… desire to find someone like that.”“Truly?” She placed a finger on her lips, winking, “Maybe you just haven’t had the spark. You know I consider you my little brother, right? Don’t expect me to sit idle while you save the world again later and fail to take care of your own wants.”“Heh,” I absentmindedly laughed, “we’ll see.”Back then, I didn’t think much of it. Petra’s been my childhood friend for over a decade and maybe she was just curious. I didn’t think that a mere six months later I would be running that conversation over in my head, thinking it a premonition of this new… experience.Gods, how do I explain it? Where do I begin? Was all that background information necessary in this personal journal? Probably not. To be honest, I’m not sure how to word anything, but, for the sake of him, I’ll try anything.Around a decent number of weeks back I was sent a missive from the Tyrian Explorers Society about discovering a route beyond Lake Doric towards the Woodland Cascades. They had requested my aid in assisting their safe passage to exploring this region. In their message they specifically noted that the Durmand Priory “had their minds occupied with more important matters.” So, naturally they went for me. I suppose the Commander wouldn’t be as busy as the Priory anyway, not with dealing with a self-proclaimed God-King threatening to unleash a plague on Tyria. Unnecessary sass aside, I agreed to their request. If anything, I thought their goal an interesting mission to uncover and catalogue territories and regions so close to my home.I had just arrived outside the walls of Divinity’s Reach, just north of the river that connects to Lake Doric when I was greeted by an eccentric Asura.“Salutations, Commander!” She said, shifting the temporary explorers’ camp’s attention towards me. She seemed tall for an Asura, with a brown, muddied cap that looked like it belonged to a human donned between her hanging ears and bald head.“We’re grateful to have you within our presence,” She continued, “I’m Surveyor Srizzi, the lead behind this campaign. I’ve also had the pleasure to evaluate your findings and examine your notes throughout your travels in Tyria. I consider it my life’s work, of course.”Taken a bit aback by her clear enthusiasm and the address to some apparent notes I had mysteriously made, I replied, “Notes…? Err, well, nevertheless, I’m glad to meet you, Srizzi.” She proceeded to introduce me to her team of pathfinders, cartographers, and explorers, taking inventory of each one’s role and their supplies. The immediate landscape reminded me of Camp Resolve, albeit on a much smaller scale... and significantly less militaristic. Around me were several of Srizzi’s crew examining the integrity of their equipment, but seldom those who seemed prepared for possible combat or hostile encounters. Still, I observed a small group of Vigil members sparring and sharing a drink over a makeshift campfire as the evening went on. The waning light reflected on the line of forest that bordered the Woodlands Cascade, the crackling fires and the last-minute supply checks continued until the sun had fully set.After getting rest, the crew and I met up at the line of greenery and trees dividing civilization and wilderness. Honestly we were lucky to not have been affected by lingering Centaur a couple of klicks west. The novelty of the Commander himself assisting with such a deceptively small-scale expedition appeared to have quickly declined as Srizzi gave a speech detailing the overarching plan. Which, by the way, included a several week day-to-day strategy on everyone’s role, multiple check-ins throughout the day, equipment reviews, and much more. I overheard conversations talking about how it must feel like to explore the Heart of Maguuma, and if this were to be anything similar. Others I could tell were visibly shaken. One young man with a short sleeved black Explorers Society uniform and heavy gloves was certain that this would be the last trek he would ever take. The mood was difficult to read, but for the most part, everyone was on board with Srizzi’s campaign. I admit the spectacle of sheer exploration of unknown areas tugged at me, as it must’ve for most others as well. The thought of jumping in, without the weary worries of an Elder Dragon hunting down your close companions or the looming threat of a rogue god and his soulless armies was almost an adrenaline rush.Without the aid of my guild mates, the Pact, or Taimi’s communicator, we trekked and tracked our movements further in the Woodland Cascades. The first few days were filled with wonder and we took in every forested sight before us, expecting it to open into some sort of beautiful, unknown scenery with waterfalls and lush brush and flora. As the team, a mishmash of the different major races in Tyria, collected data and mapped their descent further into the Cascades, I noted the bundled climbing plants hung from every tree and a range of dull flowers. These flowers grew dispersed and sparingly which clashed with the brambles and vines wrapping themselves more as we continued every day. Only the Vigil and I noticed the eerie gray and flat nature of the forest. Others were distracted by its verdant and vibrant colors that pulsed and danced from every angle.While the routine check-ins and tight patrols were to ensure efficiency and safety among Srizzi and her team, I couldn’t help but feel as if something were wrong. Not with the Asura’s methods, mind you, but… with the environment. There were two encounters which particularly called upon my expertise, one was setting a trap to encase wildlife in magical light (to which I was told so that the Asura would study possible physiological differences in critters a week into the Cascade rather than simply hunting for game), and then an ambush from a pack of vicious wolves on the camp during the evening.It was then I thought that practically most of the team had, at one point, probably idolized me. It was a strange thing to think about, and it felt stranger to realize that six years ago I had joined the Vigil. Did these recruits know that the Commander was once a Vigil Warmaster? Did I inspire some of these very same Vigil to join the order? On the same note, did some of Srizzi’s team also join the Tyrian Explorers Society because of my initial work in exploring several of the continent’s nooks and crannies before Scarlet’s invasion?Okay, that’s enough ego stroking. Honestly I should have just wrote that I was glad that the people there respected me as a fellow crewmate rather than look up to me as an absolute heroic figure whose word is law. Ah well, can’t back out from writing in ink, now can I?Continuing, I felt as if there were some eerie sensation that came from the forest. Since no one else took attention to it, I simply disregarded it as baseless paranoia. It almost felt like we were being watched throughout our journey in these uncharted lands, but never once could I identify the source. The nagging feeling kept nudging me and picking at my brain. About halfway through the campaign’s second week, I extended my patrol towards an outer grove during the midnight hours. The team had already set up camp with tents portraying fabric of compasses and maps of Tyria. One Vigil recruit was being tended to by another after she had brushed up against some poisonous vines earlier that day.I figured they would understand the sentiment of being safe, so I told them I wanted to make one last round before turning in. After some time had pass and my investigation bore fruitless, I particularly remember hearing a distant sound to my right as I was taking a piss by a tree. Intrigued, and quite certain that whatever the sound was had to do with why I was being paranoid, I quietly approached the source. As I got closer, the weak cries of a smaller animal became apparent along with a slight hum accompanying it.In the distance a faint glow outlined a rather oddly humanoid figure, wounded, leaning against a large redwood tree just near a dripping cave entrance. They seemed to be clutching a tiny primate, also injured, in their arms. At first, I couldn’t recognize them. I was confident that most of Srizzi’s team was accounted for, so who could this possibly be? From this far away it looked as if they had an Asura-like skin tone, however more vibrant blue. They were at least four times taller than an Asura, though. Regardless, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t leave someone to hurt.“Is dis it for me? Is de spirit o’ death finally here to take me away?”“No, you’re going to be okay. I’m here to help.”As soon as I said that, he chuckled softly with a rumbling voice as warm as fireside embers, though wobbly undertones surfaced as he coughed blood, away from the wounded marmoset he was protecting. I stole a good look at the individual as he was drifting away slowly. He donned decorated green and brown robes with a feathery and owl motif along with cyan moonstones attached to the belt and shoulder pads. His elaborate robes were stained with crimson as gashes scattered throughout his body. I specifically remembered the oddity of his appearance: a tall and lithe humanoid creature with a short, fine layer of soft fur unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Elongated pointy ears, a pair of sharp tusks, muddied silver face paint, a long, hooked nose, and lengthy braided pure-white hair that was parted. ‘What did I stumble upon?’ I wondered, distracted.Kneeling next to him, I removed my glacial teal winged-helmet and retrieved a golden circular signet engraved with the wings of Dwayna. Evoking the amulet, streams of regenerative magic emanated from it and floated towards the humanoid’s injuries, however they weren’t taking hold.“Don’t worry ‘bout me, mon…” He coughed, spitting up more blood, tainting the earth below us. Another weak cry escaped the tiny marmoset, desperately clinging onto life. The humanoid shakily raised the suffering creature in his hands to me. Understanding his implication, I shifted the signet towards the minute monkey. Thankfully, the light enveloped the creature briefly before completely closing its wounds. Surprised, the marmoset sprang up and hung upside down one of the humanoid’s tusks, grasping it tightly.Realizing that the magic from the amulet had failed to take hold on him before, my heart began to sank, “I’m not going to let you die. Just hang on!” I started to panic a bit, repeating in my mind that this innocent person shouldn’t suffer any longer. A slight breeze whistled in the air as I inspected his cuts for any signs or symptoms that could clue me in on why his body wasn’t accepting my magic. Different conditions that might have inhibited healing sped through my head, one after the other. Was he diseased? Was his blood infected? Cursed? Or maybe there’s something about his type that somehow prevents magic from affecting him?Poisoned! It was difficult to distinguish but bite marks on his thighs indicate some sort of puncture mark inflicted with venom. He was fading, and fast, but to re-attune the amulet to neutralize poison would take a few minutes, and then another recharge in order to switch back to healing magic. Quickly, I made work, concentrating on the amulet while simultaneously focusing on his breathing.“Just… take deep breaths. You won’t be dying in my hands.” He didn’t respond, but I felt the slowed breathing as his consciousness drifted away. I just had to believe at that point—believe that I could save him. Once re-attuned, I hovered the healing signet over the poisoned wound and focused on it, releasing the neutralizing magic. Sharp white light burst from it and seeped into his furred body. Making sure not to rip off the feathers, I carefully tattered a bit more of his robe and formed a tourniquet to prevent further blood loss on his upper right arm. Finally, after re-attuning back to healing magic, I stressed my focus on mending his wounds. The entire process emphasized techniques I learned back under my time in the Seraph as a combat medic, although post Shaemoor Incident I insisted in undertaking Guardian magic in order to find my sister’s presumed body.Luckily, he seemed to be stable. Wiping the sweat off my brow, I cleaned the rest of the blood still drying on his body. ‘What in Dwayna’s name happened to him?’ I thought. Before I knew it, the tiny primate that he was dearly protecting with his life made off somewhere in the night forest, trackless. I wondered what he did in order to provoke such attacks from whatever wild beasts assaulted him.
Luckily, he seemed to be stable. Wiping the sweat off my brow, I cleaned the rest of the blood still drying on his body. ‘What in Dwayna’s name happened to him?’ I thought. Before I knew it, the tiny primate that he was dearly protecting with his life made off somewhere in the night forest, trackless. I wondered what he did in order to provoke such attacks from whatever wild beasts assaulted him.As I calmed down I took the time to examine him a bit more closely. Just as I suspected, he was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I worked with the Vigil to build alliances with several of the natural races populating Tyria to face against the Elder Dragon Zhaitan many years ago but it almost seems wrong to compare them with someone like this. This feeling gave me a stark reminder of the Asura and their first encounter with the Sylvari, which in turn churned my stomach a bit. If Srizzi would see him, she would be having a field day… literally. I don’t deny the possibility of extensive amounts of data on what he is… but I didn’t want a repeat of that controversy. I wouldn’t want to subject him nor his kind—assuming he had others like him—to painful experiments.I decided that I would stay with him that night to oversee his recovery. Time passed inexplicably as I somehow nodded off next to him, keeping watch while he snored loudly. I suppose I took that as a sign of recovery and must have dozed off. But I guess the sunrise and the glistening reflections of the bright star against the multiple layers of forest canopy also lulled me to sleep.I think I heard a voice during the mid-afternoon as my eyes fluttered and I awoke, “Ey, wake up, mon,” he said in his accented, low rumbling voice, “what’s wrong wit’cha?”“Huh…?” I responded groggily, sitting up from my relaxed position on the ground. He was relaxing near a small campfire he created in an open plains. His garments consisted only of sleeveless brown tattered linens and cross-stitched loose-fit shorts of a slightly off-color tone, further accentuating his lean and fit form. His wounds were completely gone, which caught me by surprise.“Sorry, I must have passed out. Are you recovering?”“Shur ting, but why ya be helpin’ a stranga like me?”“Well I wasn’t going to leave you to die.” He stood up near me, looming over my form. I could see the muddied face paint completely washed out and the pure-white hair groomed and cleaned, unbraided. Jewelry and piercings on his tusks, ears and face were also soaked clean with water from the blood that had previously stained it. He was… at least seven feet tall when he wasn’t hunched over. Squatting directly in front of me, I could see him trying to understand me. I was just as foreign to him as he was to me. To him, seeing a pink-skinned bipedal creature akin in structure but shorter than him with similarly white hair styled to a spiked fauxhawk must have really been confusing.Awkwardly, I asked, “Your wounds rapidly healed up. Usually my magic only speeds up the process but it isn’t an instant closure for the type of injuries you sustained.” Ignoring me for a moment, he examined my hands with his own fingers. Peculiarly, he only possessed three fingers and two toes, but I certainly wasn’t thinking of that at the time while blood rushed to my cheeks in response.Flustered, I continued, “Uh, you’re awfully close.”He spoke casually, “You be an interestin’ creature. Who you be?”The wonder of seeing a non-native race like me must have piqued his curiosity. “I’m… a human. I come from a place south of here. What are you called?”“Yer name be Human?”“Well, no. That’s what my people are called,” I explained, shifting in my armor uncomfortably after waking up from a night of wearing them, “My name is Lorenzo Frost.”“Ya shoulda said dat in de first place, den!” He smiled slightly, returning to the campfire and inviting me to come with him. Hesitantly, I agreed. He seemed friendly, so I felt like I could trust him. Removing my armor and placing them near the redwood tree, I stretched my limbs as he observed me with rising interest. “Me name be Zen’mafa o’ de Lightspear Tribe.”“Lightspear Tribe?”“Ya mon, ain’t no Troll betta den us.”We had a lengthy conversation by the diminishing campfire as we waited for his robes to dry. Although I learned that his race referred to themselves as trolls, his appearance had a distinctive contrast to the brutish and bulky trolls found in central Tyria. There were some similarities, like the protrusions of his tusks and pointy, extended ears, but these Lightspear trolls exhibited a clear control over their culture, at least, if I were to believe Zen’mafa to be speaking the truth.As the day turned to evening once more, I had learned that the Lightspear troll was also capable of harnessing magic. He called himself a druid and showed me a tall wooden staff intricately carved with an owl head at the top and multiple light feathers attached to winged projections. His magic differed from traditional druid practices I knew of back in Tyria and fascinatingly, his magical capability stemmed not from a heavenly source but from the essence of nature itself, using the staff as a conduit to amplify it.Zen’mafa offered a demonstration of his magic by hunting for game and meat at sunset. He was able to transform tiny leaves into thick brambles covering the dirt in between clusters of trees and brush. In doing so, he trapped a deer he called a “huemul” by causing the brambles to cripple its legs after it stumbled upon the food bait he placed on it. It whined, but the druid approached it and muttered a few words I couldn’t understand, causing the deer the calm down. Finally, he stabbed the deer with a sharpened, short knife, ending its life. I helped him drag the corpse by its horns back to the campfire, to which Zen’mafa field dressed it.“Dere ya go, ‘Renzo,” he said, “we got meat for t’marrow.”The troll invited me to travel with him to his tribe tomorrow morning, calling me “a new friend” and wanting to personally thank me for helping him survive. I looked back towards where I came from, beyond the mass of forest shedding their leaves in this autumn season. Would Surveyor Srizzi and her team suffer because of my absence? Was my presence really necessary in their month-long journey? Although they would definitely be worried that the Commander hasn’t returned to camp in a while, I figured they wouldn’t doubt my survivability. Knowing that, I reluctantly agreed to a grateful Zen’mafa.Looking back on it, that might have been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.We took hold in the small cave by the tree I discovered him near as it started to heavily rain. The druid told me tales and stories of his tribe and his culture, his deep tone honestly pleasing to listen to. Being the first intelligent humanoid creature he’s ever encountered besides his own kind, he had a lot to say. From birth his elders say that he’s been blessed by the “loa of life” to protect the wildlife and preserve its natural balance. Via his stories I got impressions that trolls were, in a way, kind of similar to the Norn from a religious standpoint. The Lightspear Tribe, according to Zen’mafa, were steeped in worship of the spirits they call loa that envelope their daily life.Their magic, in which they refer to “voodoo” stems from these loa. To him and most of his brethren, their cultural sense placed great value on the belief that all creatures have souls and spirits. The spirits that inhabit them are individually minded as all living creatures. To Zen’mafa, there is a spirit within me as I speak, acting independently from me. And to him, that benevolent spirit has guided me to saving his life last night. Hearing him explain his tribal beliefs with great and friendly interest to an outsider admittedly enthralled me. In turn, I spoke about the Norn and their emphasis on individual heroism, which paved the way for great heroes and legends like Eir Stegalkin and Asgeir Dragonrender. As tiny droplets of water sunk to the wet interior of the cave, the young troll listened as I talked about how the Norn view their own Spirits that guide them throughout their travels.Eventually, we ended up having to cut our conversation short when we heard an unsettling rustle outside. I was reaching for my weapon light-shard (to which I can magically form into a greatsword or a longbow) but the druid placed his hand over mine, as if to quiet my sudden movement. He snuck out of the cave, telling me to stay put inside. A bit of worry overcame me, but I felt like he was only trying to protect me from the unfamiliarity of the surrounding, dense forest. For some reason, the moment Zen’mafa left, the sense of waiting felt excruciating. At the time I accredited it to worrying too much, and after an hour had passed he returned with the corpse of a viper he called a “mapana.”“Da spirits be helpin’ me today.” He said, accomplished, “Dis be da guy who sunk ‘is fangs inta me.”“You caught the snake that poisoned you? That’s a big relief.”“Tanks mon, ‘twas an unruly one.” The troll was scratched slightly on his face, a small, fresh scar on his left cheek. Not to mention he was also drenched once more thanks to the rain. He sat next to me, the residual water transferring to me and getting my settled body cold from the outside rain. He mentioned that a pack of jaguarondi had ambushed him directly after protecting a small critter from its venomous predator, but the poison had already developed in his system, causing his strength and magic to fail.“Its spirit called out’ta me.” He responded when I inquired about why he would protect the animal from multiple predators.The next morning the forest was shining with bright sunlight, reflecting off the dewy grass and flora. Zen’mafa had woken up beforehand and managed to skin and butcher the deer he caught yesterday and cook the venison with fire magic. We enjoyed a seared breakfast meal together in silence and then prepped to head to his homeland. Ready to depart, we headed out, me following close behind the druid and his still-slightly-tattered elaborate robes into the dells of the Woodland Cascades.Zen’mafa was able to navigate the labyrinth of a forest with relative ease, almost as if he possessed a sixth sense. Throughout our day and a half travels to his homeland, we encountered a few hostile beasts, but managed to make short work of them with a clever combination of our traps. We eventually got near a peaceful river rapids the troll lovingly referred to as the Antu’kah Ripple. In fact, we discovered a multitude of footprints of varying sizes near this area along with displaced soil and vegetation, concerning the druid. Knowing the reason why I came here, however, I was able to explain to my new friend that I arrived with a team to explore and chart these undiscovered lands.The troll wasn’t pleased with my answer. He crossed his arms and thought to himself before finally speaking out, “If dey get to me tribe before we do, den dey won’t be in for a jammin’ time.” After examining them closely, I determined that they were heading east, rather than north, where our destination lies. Zen’mafa and I strolled quietly by the rapids, taking in its beautiful, glimmering sights and the ambience of the fast flowing river stream.The river broke into many, and then ultimately into a large, sandy delta, scarce with trees. In the distance stood the proud village of Zen’mafa’s people, the Lightspear Tribe.“Welcome to me home, mon. We call her Leb’Aman, de Arm o’ da Lightspear.”It was one thing to come across the Olmakhan in the Sandswept Isles during a stressful time, but it was another to engorge in the sight that was Leb’Aman with the golden orange sky of the Janthir Bay as backdrop. The beach-like environment supplemented the soothing tide as life went on in the village, decorated by wooden walls, stone-carved totems, and spikes along with elegant bridges connecting parts of the village over water.Upon entering I was greeted with suspicion on account of being a human, but Zen’mafa dispelled their fears, stating I was a friend of his. The guards of the village looked bloodthirsty, with spikes protruding from their crude bark armor and crimson war paint. They wielded spears made of white wood and sharpened, hooked metal points, which alluded to their tribe’s name.Within the village stood dozens of stone structures and wooden huts in an open communal space. Few buildings were built with walkways and platforms, and others with balconies winding around the top. The shamanistic lifestyle that Zen’mafa detailed to me was reflected with carvings, idols, statues, and totems depicting different aspects of their philosophy and religion. Some were boulders with drawn depictions of animal sacrifices, others were totem heads that represented one of the loa, like a raptor or a shark. Perhaps the most eye-catching, however, was a tall, black obelisk with four of their major spirits engraved on each side. The smell of incense permeated the air as the druid lead me to the central island in Leb’Aman.Here I met a good deal of uncomfortable stares in my direction. This feeling was common as I traveled throughout the world from the past six years, the feeling of being an outlander in native lands. The central island housed the chieftain of the Lightspear Tribe, a stout, sturdy woman named Ela‘jin who was also Zen’mafa’s mother. The chieftain, who wore a green-painted tiki mask of an owl, welcomed me with open arms to her home and offered for me to stay for the upcoming celebration in a few weeks’ time. The chieftain’s den was decorated with the tribe’s flag and torches with magical fire, along with pelts and trophies of her skill. She was backlit by a white-flamed bonfire behind her as she sat cross-legged in the central chamber. I agreed to the insistence of Zen’mafa, who was pleased with my decision.And then, for the next three weeks, I would integrate with the Lightspear Tribe, learning their practices and culture. Zen’mafa, whose name I lightheartedly shortened to Zenny, helped me talk to the locals and convinced them to place their trust in me. I adapted to the thick troll accent, and by the second week I hadn’t the need to ask others to repeat themselves as often. The druid often worked with me throughout the village, whether it would be to assist with hunting for boar, gathering fruit, or help fishing. He also thought to put on a performance using my Guardian magic as a light-show for the young trolls in the tribe. Zenny and I became close friends.As the days went by, I had less use of my protector’s armor. My armor was symbolic in the way that it reminded me of my origins, my loyalty, and my prowess, but it was blatant how unfitting neighbors saw me in fully metallic gear and equipment. While I was living in Zenny’s personal hut, he stored my gear in a magically-enchanted safebox by his hammock to ward off the curious. Both of us, along with one of the crafters (a heavily tattooed nonbinary troll named Juvalu with mammoth-like tusks), then worked on putting together something that resembled me, but also bore the mark and style of the Lightspear. It was a long day at the beach as we sweat over carving the wood to match my body type and skinned the leather hide. Zenny was particular about having most of my chest exposed in spirit of a true Lightspear warrior.In the end, we crafted a leather sash that ran across my chest. Most of it was left exposed to the elements in a way that resembled my old armor in color along with a wooden buckler affixed to my shoulder. I also had furred leggings with fabric that matched the golden tabard I used to wear along with fingerless and similarly furred gloves. To finish off my appearance, Zenny gave me a gold-colored armband with an owl drawn on it. “I got one o’ me own, friend. I made ‘tis one for ya,” he said in his low, soothing voice after Juvalu had retired to their wife. His voice, coupled with the washing sounds of the low tides and the starry night sky lulled an exhausted me to sleep. The next day, after waking in Zenny’s hammock, I overheard that “Zen’mafa be takin’ da human in his arms last night.”
Music and dancing was a large part of their culture as well, and many encouraged me to learn from their best. Much to Zenny’s amusement, however, I had no musical background, which might’ve irritated one of the shofar-players when I attempted to play a hand-crafted didgeridoo. My memories of attending a carnival with Petra when we were children in Divinity’s Reach unfortunately failed me and I became the laughing stock of the village for that day.As the celebration neared, I learned of its general nature from locals who had taken a like to my exotic nature as a foreigner. I was unsure whether or not to trust the berry gathering wives on their information as it seemed like they wanted to play matchmaking with me. Nevertheless, the celebration was more of an annual ritual, where trolls came together near the beach, played music, dance, and feast. If I were to believe Wuntana or Gil’yali, the aquatic loa would rise from the depths of the sea and bless us with their magnificent boons via a ritual done on the water’s surface.The morning before the celebration, I was requested to come before the presence of the Witch Doctors, spiritual masters of the Lightspear. They lived in a stone hut on an island furthest from the delta with tiki masks of all colors embedding the walkway, as almost the spirits behind these masks were watching my every step. Every pace I made creaked on the old wood on the cloudy day. It was like a storm cloud had developed over the stone hut and lightning rods were attached to its spiraling roof to attract its thunder. To be requested by the most powerful trolls second to the chieftain herself must have been a great honor, as I’ve heard that most people come to them because of their alchemical prowess and ability to cure any toxins or curses. Although… Witch Doctors can be frightening people with such control over spiritual energy. As I wondered the intent of my summons, I pulled through the curtain and the contents of a bubbling, clear liquid cauldron wafted through me, slightly taking me aback.The smell was foul with tinges of bitterness that probably weren’t edible. A trio of three tall lovers with enormous masks and hanging trinkets and piercings were mixing a cauldron with a giant single rusty spoon of iron. They were backed by a gloomy atmosphere and racks of odd ingredients like snake tongues, lizard newts, frog toes and shelves of herbs that appeared mundane. A whole stack of bottled milk jars stood to the left of the trio, hidden in plain sight beyond the scattered objects. The rightmost Witch Doctor had approached me as I sat cross legged on the cushion before them respectfully.“’Renzo o’ de humans,” he started, his light green skin tone shimmering a slight, magical glow.The middle troll, who had possessed the same eerie voice, continued mid-sentence, “de loa must determine if ya be trustwort’y to da Lightspear.”The Witch Doctor on the left, a lilac-skinned female troll, then spoke, “If so… Den de Lightspear be considerin’ ya to be one o’ us.”For the next hour I sat patiently as the Witch Doctors had drawn, with chalk on the wooden floorboards, sharp symbols and shapes connecting to an innermost oval circling the cushion. They rested beastly parts, dead insects, thimbles of salt of oozes of viscous gray liquid atop these symbols as they intersected each other on the floor board. Behind their masks they had a purple radiance. Linking their hands, the lovers chanted and beseeched the loas by name, listing them off, their titles, and their roles in order. Streaks of wind flowed within the hut through the curtains, amplifying the purple radiance exuding from the Witch Doctors. The glow had faded as a violet translucent figure resembling a ridgeback skale, an amphibious waterside creature with varying degrees of sentient intelligence, appeared. The ghostly creature jumps into the middle Witch Doctor, whose mask resembled a similar looking skale, and disappeared within him.“For de human who steps on de sands o’ de spirits,” he whispers with a crackly voice in the now darkened hut, the purple glow reappearing and enveloping him completely, “hunt me and kill me. Bring me corpse to dose dat channel me spirit.”Surprisingly, the two other Witch Doctors didn’t flinch at the notion of me searching and killing one of their spirits. The middle one continued, “It speak to ya power ‘n ya capability if ya be able to ‘cessfully shed me o’ me mortal shell.”I accepted the loa’s trial and the Witch Doctors had blessed me with the luck of the rabbit in my hunt. Standing up, I felt a bit dizzy from their ritual. I hadn’t even noticed that the chalk-drawn symbols and the components had disappeared when the loa was summoned and possessed one of them briefly. I felt the intimidating presence of their masks piercing my back when I exited the hut onto the sandy, isolated island in the village.Despite my specialization as a Dragonhunter, it took over seven hours to hunt the skale. As part of my trial, I wasn’t able to ask for assistance and had to use my instincts and intuition to search for it. I had checked the surrounding areas of Leb’Aman, the Antu’kah Ripple, and other watery areas but to no success. Skales are typically amphibious, so they wouldn’t venture further than necessary, however through the serene Ripple and the beautiful landscapes near the Janthir Bay behind the village and its surroundings, no skale were present. I wouldn’t give up, however, and honed my search further. I examined tracks of terrestrial creatures nearby, watched predators chasing their prey from bushes east of Leb’Aman, and watched the migration of birds. From what I could tell, many steadily had left a small, compact jungle miles to the east of the Lightspear dells in a form of a continuous exodus. The trolls call this gloomy wilderness the Yul’kilk, or “Certain Death” and avoid it due to its religious negative connotations.But I ventured forward and battled enlarged beasts empowered by a magical artifact embedded in the ground that had the scent of death and necromancy, a practice made taboo in troll culture. These entities brought me down to my last legs, blackish mist flowing from them. Exhausting my magic, I was able to counteract their necromantic energies and inflict grievous, freezing wounds with my greatsword. The skale had asked me to rid it of its mortal coil, and I discovered it lakeside with bulbous black tumors and fearsome sharp claws, basking in pitch. It was the mother of a brood of smaller, yet strangely unaffected young skales. Its corrupted parent, protective of her children, rose to leap at me, activating one of my light traps and containing itself.However, my trap didn’t last long as a dark gray tree toppled over and its young viciously clawed and yelped at their mother’s hunter. Freed, the engorged beast tackled and pinned me to the ground clawing at my exposed chest. Only with the nimbleness granted to me by the light armor Zenny, Ju’valu and I crafted was I able to retaliate with a roll to the side and a quick planting of a rudimentary Dragon’s Maw trap I set beforehand. Feeling lightheaded from the corruption quickly swelling within my blood, I kneeled and transformed my greatsword into a frost-infused bow resembling Dwayna’s wings and aimed at the head of the mother. My vision faltered for just a moment and I missed my first shot, having to retreat with another dodge roll. Her brood surrounded me and loomed closer as I breathed heavily, examining my immediate environs. The lake was bubbling with sentient ooze and pitch and behind me I could hear echoes of a roar akin to a bear. One of the brood sprung atop my arm, limiting my movement, and called out to the rest as the dreary, sharpened gray blades of grass pierced me when I inevitably collapsed to it.It was looking like the end of me due to my lack of proper planning, but not wanting to give up and keeping Zenny in my mind, I invoked a magical shout that unleashed a wave of forceful energy, knocking the brood off me and on their backs. Transforming the longbow into the greatsword once more, I took advantage of the mother’s brief vulnerable state. With the greatsword seeping frost into the injuries it sustained, its movement chilled and I was able to outpace it around the lake, each longbow shot crippling another limb. Pinning the mother on the ground and unable to move, I took the greatsword and decapitated her head, black ooze pouring from it. Luckily I had freed the loa from the corruption of the skale.The trek back was treacherous. Realizing that I had left my signet along with my other armor, I had no quick fire method to cleanse myself of the spreading corruption. Dark spots formed on my skin and melted the tribal paint as I tried to rest near a large boulder in between rays of light piercing the outer canopy of a lighter forest near the north-western coast of the Woodlands Cascade. While the lands here were brighter than the dull Wilderness of Yul’kilk, my decaying vision had deteriorated the colors. Meditating as best I could amongst the pulsing pangs of pain plaguing my skin, I prayed and implored Dwayna to empower my innate magic to cleanse the corruption. Clutching my bleeding wounds with no strength to dress them, I felt like the end of my days were near.But, whether it was via casting out those doubts or Dwayna herself answering my prayers, my focus allowed me to channel a speck of healing magic to purify the source of the Yul’kilk corruption within my chest. I had to spend two of those hours resting to regain my strength to return with the head of the skale. I took the time to take in the sights of the woodlands near me. It was wet and rich from a passing rain shower. Its canopy was demanded by elm and willow with occasional openings in their crowns. The rays of light flooded to the floor, nurturing the brush bursting from the earthly grounds below. Thin branches hung from a couple of trees, and a variety of flowers, which grew in a sprinkled and disorderly fashion, added colorful, scented elements to the otherwise nondescript terrain. A group of wild noises resonated through the air as I rested, and were accompanied by the sound of wind blowing gently. It was tranquil and reminded me of my first encounter with Zen’mafa. With no doubt in my mind, the Woodland Cascades possessed the most diverse landscapes and natural zones, and I dare say more so than the heart of the Maguuma Jungle.Returning to the Witch Doctors with the skale’s head in tow, they were impressed by my remarkable hunting prowess, stating that I had freed Zullr, the Loa of the Hunt, from necromantic corruption. Exhausted, and in the dead of night, I sat once more in the centered cushion, the cuts, bite marks, and gashes I sustained from the skale’s brood still recovering at a decent pace. The two male Witch Doctors traced my wounds with paint from their fingers and I grimaced. The female Witch Doctor wearing the maroon-colored mask of a hawk dipped a piece of black chalk in one of the bottles of milk and drew the symbol of the Lightspear over my exposed chest while the others quietly snuffed out candles lining the walls of the hut.Although it was pitch black for a moment, the Lightspear symbol drawn on my body began to glow and hum with a radiant combination of white, lilac, and light blue, illuminating the interior with sharp shadows. The female Witch Doctor placed her hand flat against my chest, covering the middle of the symbol and muttered words I couldn’t understand, backed by the chanting of the two male Witch Doctors nearby. Suddenly, I felt a strong force enter me and pull my body forward, but this strange sensation subsided when two bright orbs flashed in front of my eyes from the hawk-masked Witch Doctor.“At dis point fo’ward, ‘Renzo,” she spoke, then was aided in unison by the Witch Doctors flanking her, “we welcome ya to our tribe as one o’ us.” They removed their masks, revealing their rigid, altered faces and kneeled before me, as if I were royalty.“De loa ya killed ‘as moved wit de otha’s. We be eternally grateful for ya help answerin’ its plea.”I stood up and bowed respectfully in their powerful presence. It seems like I was blessed by the loa whose spirit I had helped free as part of my trial to become accepted within the Lightspear. With that, I wobbled across the wooden bridges and curious onlookers back to Zenny’s cozy hut to a loudly snoring druid. Without thinking, I dropped to an empty space in the same hammock he slept in and immediately passed out.Because of my being the first ever honorary troll in Lightspear history, I was able to attend the ceremony the following morning. The ceremony took place well before the crack of dawn, and by the time I was awake, Zenny was gone. Hearing from rumors all over the village, Zenny was to partake in this ceremony in a major way, so I couldn’t fault him for being nervous and wanting to get up even earlier.At the beach, preparations were made to shape the sand into a suitable area for seating as well as setting the stage for food and music. Hunters, foragers, herders, and the few Lightspear farmers all came together the night before to cook and prepare some of the finest food the tribe had to offer on this annual ceremony. The hubbub surrounding the entire populace reminded me of Divinity’s Reach in a way, although the difference being that trolls here were cooperative and collaborative without a second thought. Tough looking buff warriors playfully sparred with young aspirants and mystical Shadowhunters, trolls that utilize shadow-esque magics to hunt prey, fired harmless shadowbolts at children who masterfully parried them back. It was a morning of festivity blessed by the loa of joyous respite named Lukou. I asked Juvalu for their help in reapplying the face and body paint that Zenny designed for me on the day we crafted my armor, as today was a day that body paint symbolized a deeper connection to the spirits of the land. It was especially important to get it perfect in the presence of the chieftain and Zenny himself, who would be happy to see me care so much about his culture and society.The shoreline was bustling as time went on in preparations. When the sun was about to rise at dawn, all of us turned silent and sat near the water tides facing the sea. I sat cross-legged next to the chieftain of the tribe, who was being fanned by large tree leaves via two of her personal servants. What happened next still baffles me, but for the sake of accurately recounting it… from the side, coming from afar, entered Zen’mafa, completely nude, no paint, and with his junk hanging low. I looked away, blushing, but societal pressure of watching kept me… okay… okay… I looked away at first but I was compelled to watch every second as everyone around me sat attentively.Zenny calmly treaded the water tides breaking the sand and came comfortably into our view in front. Windy and upbeat music began as a fanfare when Zenny propelled himself deeper into the water, walking on its surface. He placed himself in between the rising, golden sun and the reflecting waters, forming a perfect balance on the horizon line, masked by a dark but majestic partial silhouette. The naked druid gracefully danced with intense, flowing movements and maneuvers. He bent and contorted his form as the bright shining sea rippled in response. He pulled tiny strings of water around him, infused with a cheerful orange magic that illuminated the underwater depths.Spirits and loas of dolphins and other aquatic animals rose up and jump from the water in the background as part of the religious ceremony. His smooth, white braided hair tied to a ponytail behind him flowed with the morning cool breeze as I stared in absolute awe, speechless. With each of his elegant and swift movements he left a trail of evaporating, glittery water in the air. His lithe frame accentuated his agile style and charming dance backed behind the giant sun rising in the background of Janthir Bay.To put it in one word… it was beautiful.
The dance ended, and the music came to a close with a calming flourish as the aquatic animals resumed their lives underneath the sea. Zenny approaches the shore and kneels, thanking the loa themselves for acting as their outlet. The trolls had cheered in celebration of his dance and mimicked the druid’s grateful prayers. The villagers then broke off to their own dancing and attending to their stomachs, tantalized by the scent of mouth-watering Lightspear delicacies.Still naked, Zenny came near the chieftain and me towards the edge of the shore. As the dance ended, she told her servants to enjoy the day and take the remainder of the week to relax and relish life. When her son reached her, she lifted him up with complete pride, blessing him for the best performance he’s done in years. Ela’jin murmured to him, “Ya be free now, my child. Be free wit’ him ‘n make us proud.”Jittery and excited, Zenny rushed towards me and tackled me towards the sandy ground, startling me. He hugged me extremely tight and if I wasn’t dying to embarrassment through his junk pressing against mine, I’d be thanking him for the amazing performance, I myself proud of my closest friend. He lifted me himself and threw me around, growing a wide smile. I failed to struggle as my heart melted seeing him this happy to know that I loved his performance. He probably didn’t even notice the red flushing to my cheeks or cared about curious onlookers from the ensuing festival. He just loved that I loved it. And that… made me happy.Zenny was spared light clothing afterwards and together he and I explored the festival and its music, socialized with various different trolls from all walks of the Lightspear, and wolfed down the meats and foodstuffs that the hunters and preparers had laid for us. Because of Zenny’s position of one of the druids of the Lightspear, many were honored to be in his presence after such a stellar performance in the ceremony. We grew considerably closer that day, and often I found myself wanting to be with him more and more.Exceptionally drunk from rare alcohol (which I learned that only Witch Doctors were permitted to drink alcohol as part of spiritual “training,” but trolls are encouraged to get drunk on the night of the ceremony), both Zenny and I returned to his hut, this homey space that I’ve grown accustomed to for several weeks. I don’t… entirely remember what happened that night, but we eventually collapsed together and passed out on his hammock. There was also a knocked over bottle of coconut oil.What I do remember is that I woke up snuggling up against Zenny mid-afternoon.“Ey mon. Tinkin’ ya musta been pretty tired,” he chuckled in a rumbly, but deep and soothing tone, “ya ‘ad a good dream?” To see him casually speak to me like that as I was laying my head on his bare chest made me extremely flustered and embarrassed.“Heheh… Seemed like it, lookin’ at yer drool.” He said lightly, ruffling through my bedhead.“Uhh..?! Ack, sorry!” I couldn’t look at him directly in the eyes as I jumped off him and fell on the earthy ground interior. Zenny stayed relaxed in his hammock, twirling his hair with his fingers as he stared at me with an amused smile. The midafternoon sun glared its shining rays through the square opening on the wall, highlighting the troll’s form and dust circulating the air.“Yo ‘Renzo, I been tinkin’. Ya hafta leave soon, right? Why don’ we take a walk by de Ripple?”I agreed to a nice peaceful stroll with Zenny. As I was about to reapply body paint to myself, the druid wrapped his arm around my shoulder and told me “’Lax mon, de spirits be restin’ today, so ain’t no one gonna wear markings.”Every time we walk near the Antu’kah Ripple I feel like I can describe it in a different way. Zenny and I strolled by the river and by the rapids, looking at the trees, the flowers, the small critters, and the beautiful sky above the light canopy. It was a serene walk and we idly chatted. I had jokingly mentioned about getting an ear piercing to match Zenny’s but he was really into that idea. He made a passing mention that he never noticed my round ears “ain’t pointy or stiff” as we took a short rest and touched my ears curiously.We talked about his childhood and how he was the chieftain’s first son. Being blessed by the loa of life, the elders insisted that he would work to preserve the natural balance of life, although that also meant having to take great risks. At first his mother was uncomfortable, but seeing that the loa of life was more important than her own role, she accepted her son’s fate. He extensively practiced ritualistic magic and traveled with Headhunters and Shadowhunters during their hunts in order to mend their injuries and to protect nature. The “mafa” in his name meant “soothing” in the tongue of the trolls.Speaking of names, he explained how Lightspear trolls are given names based on their deeds and accomplishments. Many add syllables to their names, and many are born with just two or three letters to themselves. “Zen” was the prefix he was blessed with when he performed his first ceremony on this same day a decade ago. It meant “druid.” So, his name stood for soothing druid. He was curious about my name, but Lorenzo was simply a name given to me by my parents.For hours we shared cultural histories with each other and I learned a great deal of himself and his society during this tranquil yet aimless wander throughout the Cascades. He told me tales of another troll tribe beyond Janthir Bay that held slaves and worshipped “false loa,” (which coincided with my memories of the Mursaat). The Lightspear were groups of slaves that broke off and traveled to the other side of the sea and founded the village I know as Leb’Aman. He wanted to see more of Tyria the more I told him about it, and I wanted to show him, but simultaneously I didn’t want to steal him from his people. When I told him I was a sort of hero in the world, his eyes turned wide and excited. He wanted to see it all, but even as the Commander I had no authority to take him on my own.Eventually we happened to wander by the same redwood tree we first met. He beckoned me to sit next to him, against the bulky, aged tree.“Ey… ‘Renzo.” He said, looking down at the faintly visible dried bloodstain still present on the soil from weeks ago.After a pause, he continued, “It been botherin’ me many times lately, wit’ ya.”“What do you mean?”“I… I want’cha ta be wit’ me.”“Yeah, I’m sorry that I can’t stay for much longer.”Quiet once more. “’Renzo,” he continued, a bit more confident in his words, “I love ya.”I turned to him, bewildered. I found a blushing troll looking shyly towards me, struggling to make eye-contact.“I love ya, ‘Renzo. I love ya like a man loves anotha man and wants to be wit’ him foreva.”“You l-love me?”“Dis ain’t no hex mon… I love ya. I love yer smiles and how ya became one o’ me people and how ya been wit’ me for me troubles and been wit’ me durin’ de good times.”“I love ya and I want ta be wit’cha foreva. I mean it.”Fuck, the feeling in my chest rose and I felt like I had trouble producing words or even thinking of them. I teared up a bit, hearing his confession, drops escaping from my eyelids and splashing on his hands.“’Renzo? What be on ya mind?” He leaned closer, concerned.
I had trouble expressing how I truly felt. How to form a sentence. How to vocalize words. He placed a hand on my face. “Fuck man, I… I think I love you too.”I couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time, getting this feeling off my chest and into the world.“I love you Zenny. I love you.” I had to repeat it several times to make sense of it. I loved him. I loved him.Zenny started tearing up too, “Heh… heh…” he said with a beaming grin, “dat ceremony yestaday. One o’ its purposes was ta show ya dat I loved ya. It was me last dance, and I wanted it ta be especially for ya.”I embraced him, hugging him tightly by the tree, crying into his shoulder. I wasn’t ever this emotional, but something stirred up inside me that felt like I wanted to be by Zenny forever. I didn’t knew what it was—this feeling I kept bottling that consistently badgered me. But I know now. I love him. I sat on his lap, wrapping my arms around him, sharing in his warmth. Every time I pulled back I noticed the teary-eyed troll smile look at me with eyes that spelt pure happiness.I didn’t know how much time had passed in this forest, but neither of us cared. We continued to snuggle for gods know how long with not a single word, letting the breeze die down on our shoulders and the drifting leaves fall to our backs.I love him. And. And he loves me. It was surreal.…At some point, I felt a twitch. It came from his lower body. He looked at me, his blue face unusually reddened by his embarrassment.Another twitch… He felt mine.This feeling became… a bit more prominent as our… junk bulged against each other. Our crotches touched and kissed and the sun had set, lowering its shine into a vast array of purples and red hues. Our eyes connected and revealed a certain newfound lust with our love.We shift closer to each other. Looking unsure, the troll slowly slid his right hand down my side and round over my rear, resting on his lap, stroking over my backside as I stumbled over sensitive whimpers, wiggling and blushing slightly. Zenny growled slowly, snaking a hand around my plump ass cheeks and rolling one around, then the other. He cracked a smirk, looking at me in the eye as he hefts me up, pushing me against him momentarily and squeezing a small yelp from my throat before landing on his lap once more.“We won’ be needin’ dese…” He whispered into my ear, tugging at the fabric covering ourselves. He lifted me up in one fell swoop and gently undressed me, running his three-fingered hands through my warm body in the process. He squatted to reach eye level with my leathery underwear and bit the top part of it, dragging his face down to free my penis with a slender pop. He stared and examined at my half-erect member for a long while, judging its uncut nature twitching with excitement when he poked it. He lifted his own cross-stitched furred sleeveless shirt he wore on casual strolls and pressed me to his chest, sharing our heat.“Ooh… Ya torso be feelin’ good.” In between feeling and exploring my rump he told me to take off his own pants. When I dragged down his furred shorts he surprised me when his own lengthy, circumcised dick excitedly popped out and appeared centimeters from my own face, showcasing its pink fleshy head. Leaning against the tree, we both slid down to our original position. The troll carefully discovered my penis once more as I sat again on his legs while he grasped both of our meat, intimately caressing our shafts.“S-Sorry mon…” he said softly, “I don’ know what I be doin’…”“I don’t care.” I panted as I felt my dick jerk from being touched by someone other than me for the first time, “if it’s with you, then I’ll… I’ll do anything.” I placed my hands on his shoulders and stroked them in a circular pattern, looking at him lustfully. I nuzzled against his protruding nose with mine, giving it a small lick and kiss. Grinning silly, I maneuvered myself towards his neck and nibbled on it, kissing it multiple times and soliciting pleasurable sighs. To great effort, I managed to break away and find an angle in between his jeweled tusks to plant a loving kiss on his lips before once again wandering down his neck, sucking on little bits of tiny fur here and there. His free hand tightened as I worked down his toned and lithe chest before giggling and laughing when I found myself looking directly in his eyes again. I played with his nipple piercings with a tender touch.“What was dat…? It felt amazin’, ‘Renzo…”“Hehe, it’s a kiss. It’s a sign of my love for you.”He blushed, slowly rubbing and frotting our shafts subconsciously. That cute smile never left his face as he realized I had shown him a new way of showing affection that trolls had never really seen before. Despite Zenny being more endowed and possessing more girth than me, he was able to borrow our developing beads of precum and lovingly lather them around our hardened rods, allowing him to stroke us with ease using our natural lubricant.We let the noise of the soft night envelope us as we never broke eye contact, the full moon taking its place in the sky and bragging its moonlight onto us. Breathy pants and delicate moans left as we felt each individual exhale and inhale on each other’s faces and took in our horniness and thirst for more.My new boyfriend had sifted through the silence with his panting words, “’Renzo…” He said, lightening his rhythm, “For me people… It be customary for new lovers ta plant de seed o’ life wit’in each otha’.”“Y-Yeah…?”“It mean dat our love wit’ each otha’ will mature ‘n blossom eternally. It be u-unbreakable... Ma mojo be intaminglin’ wit ya’s...”“I want that, Zenny. I want us to be… together.” I snuggled closer to his chest, “I love you and nothing will change that.”With a roving eye, I shifted away from his lap on my knees to a slightly disappointed troll, although his expression changed when I caressed his inner thighs and bent forward, my face to his trollhood.“Please… Zenny… This is… my first time doing anything like this. Please stop me if I hurt you… at all.” I said as I got a good eyeful of his twitching, pre-covered eight inch penis. As I heard a grunt of approval I instinctively cupped his furred nut sack and danced my tongue around its curved shape to pleasurable, deep moans. My own maleness fluttered with drips of viscous clear juice that bounced and reached the saturated dirt and soil beneath me. The druid shivered softly as I licked the tip of his head to take my first taste of him. My tongue gave a soft slurp and dragged itself alongside the vertical length of his sensitive flesh. Peering down at me, he moaned with newfound pleasure and brightly flushed cheeks as my tongue acclimated to the tinge of salt of his ooze. Mentally prepared, I readied my jaw and ate up a third of his wide dick, sliding my lips along his length as he attempted to quiet his ever-so-growing groans overhead. His fingers crawled up to my shoulders as his hips sway to meet my sliding motions and I gradually took three quarters of his entire length over a bit of time.He shudders softly, his breath rising and catching a few times before he can manage words, “’Renzo… ‘Renzo… Ya be…” His cheeks were positively aglow and his cock produced an alarming amount of precum within my mouth. I rubbed up his thighs and slowing down my bobbing rhythm as Zenny thrusted hard into my throat, keeping himself on the edge.“’Renzo…” he moans again under a few breaths, “hold on… mon…”Keeping me to my senses, strings of saliva and precum broke off when I lifted my head to meet his gaze.“Don’ be givin’ it all… ta me, mon… Ya need ta feel how I do too.” Too distracted by the thought of him wanting me to experience the sensation of a blowjob too, he pushed me on the ground and loomed over my nude form, his meat a twitching menace of dripping troll juice. I saw his eyes roam a great deal over my muscled body as he gave my abs strong licks, his tongue rippled and glossed my nipples and my neck intensely, throwing me into a pleasured frenzy. Gracefully maneuvering his face just like the ceremony, he found the angle to plant his lips onto mine for a solid minute, barely grazing my comparatively smaller head with his fine, but sharpened tusks.
“Heh, you learn fast, Zenny.” He moves down my body, kissing my abs, my belly button, and then finally my balls. He opens his mouth wide and reveals a hungry tongue, thirsting for my taste. Because of my relatively mediocre six inch length and his protruding nose, he was only able to get halfway down my shaft, but my groans were the most intense thing to ever leave my mouth which fueled him to go faster… and faster… His tongue coasted around my head and gently played with my foreskin. The troll used his hands to rub the lower half of my penis as his determination powered his desire to deep-throat me entirely. Subconsciously, I thrusted my hips into his face, slightly bending his nose, but able to get all of my length within him. Sucking me off, the rumbling deep tone of his groans slipped from his mouth and vibrated my balls. I was so fucking horny and I wanted to cum badly within him, but he wouldn’t let me, stopping when my moans caused the nearby wildlife to flee from possible danger.Panting and breathing heavily between each word as he broke away from my begging dick, I managed to muster a sentence, “Fuck… Fuck… Zenny… I think I need you… in me.”The druid needily agreed and we worked our way back against the redwood tree. He took me by the arm, pulling me against him. I stumbled for a brief moment, falling against his side as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Scooping my butt in one hand, his deep smile melted under the heat of my incoming blush and a hanging-lip stare.Zenny chuckled and whispered, “I tought o’ sometin’ funny… Otha’ male troll lovahs must’ve an easier time ‘cuz dey be havin’ longa equipment.”Embarrassed and slightly self-conscious, I pouted. He leaned in, still with his hand grasping my butt, and nuzzled my neck with his face, saying “But it don’ matta ‘cuz ya be de only one fa’ me, an’ I like ya for who ya are.” He then wiggles and works his fingers down, between my cheeks and rubbing over my pucker. Instinctively my back straightened but he firmly pressed me open around his probing digit, smiling and giving my ear a charming nibble as I gasped and clutched slowly at his shoulders. My hole opened reluctantly at first to his index, and that muscle wringed at him intently as he worked his way deeper. Tenderly, he shoved his finger through my ass as I melted and nearly collapsed against him. In… and out… and in… and out… His finger stretched my tight virgin butt nicely, causing a reactive cry, shaking and twitching hard against his thigh. He flexed his digit inside me, letting me seize and squeeze around it as my manhood throbbed against his leg, eager. I whimper sadly as he dragged his fingers free, giving a slow shiver.Sitting and leaning against the tree, the young troll druid scooped my coinpurse, rolling my nuts between his fingers covetously, drawing a moan from my lips as he beckoned me to sit on his lap again, but in front of his own eager rod. We stare at each other with a warm grin as my flesh grinded against his belly. I straddle him and lightly bounce as our noses touch, rubbing the back of his head briefly.“Ah… ‘Renzo…” He moaned with hopeful pleasure, revealing a vial of coconut oil within one of his discarded shorts pockets that he snagged from his hut, “U-Use… dat if ya gonna be… takin’ me up ya…” His hips jerked up as I continued to bounce up and down, creating friction between my lower backside and his trollhood and my manhood and his toned belly. Strings of our prefluids stuck to our bodies when I playfully humped his stomach, drawing whimpers and moans from both of our tremendously horny states.I push myself up, swinging his rod to align it with my aching need. Taking a dip of coconut oil from its vial and adequately lathering his flesh and the insides of my hole, I then took a brief moment to align his lightly pointed tip just so with my slowly flexing backdoor – and I shove down, opening myself in one go, devouring that hot rod halfway. Both he and I arched and groaned each other’s names as I clutched my hands around his sides and gritted my teeth to the loss of my virginity. I savor every fat, needy throb that Zenny feeds into me, straining against my tight-gripping anus, trying to stretch me a little wider with his girthy meat. I breathe deeply, only drawing tighter in answer, and I relish the low burn as I push down to claim his last inch after a lengthy session with his member, grinding down tight atop him, reapplying coconut oil lube after each attempt.I took a moment to relax, just to savor the feel of him fully buried inside me, but I couldn’t seem to stop the little wiggles and grinds of my hips, pushing forward to lever my boyfriend against my ring and grind him just a little harder against my prostate. During this intense hour, his face was agape with drool and a hefty need to release his pent-up sexuality. Sighing out warmly past the initial beats of pain his large cock pushed further within my rectum, a wave of bliss washed over me as hurt turned into pure ecstasy. I slipped harder moans as I burned and churned around his freshly buried shaft and rocked back and forth atop him, beating that head against the inside of my belly. My balls rolled and tugged along his gut as my flesh nodded happily, slowly soaking over him as I grinded him lightly time and again over my prostate, just enough to make that fat shaft twitch and spit up a fresh little gob of pre each time. The troll himself, with his mouth hanging open, furrowed with pints of desire and sincere moans of deep intimacy that swelled loud in his throat every time my hips grinded down tight around him to make sure he was planted deep and nice inside me. His hands trembled as he grabbed my sides and guided me down with each grind I made.Countless minutes into it my hips were jerking into hungry, rambunctious motions, driving Zenny through my depths to churn myself up as I grew flushed with penetrating warmth. A mixture of coconut oil and his pre did a decent job soaking up my insides, soothing the gentle burn of my ring around his trollhood until I found myself beating to his hips faster and faster, gliding nice and smooth… Moans pour out of me as he hits the right angle, his delicious penis paving my core and my prostate with each subconscious thrust of his hips as I hang my head back.Zenny swallows in between breaths, frantically panting sharp, lovely groans, “‘R-Renzo… I tink… I tink I’m gonna cum…” I took that as a cue to grind harder, and the wet, ball-slapping noises from our hips connecting with every thrust caused his dick to throb in fervent anticipation. His hips bore in against my ass and his fingers dug deep into my skin as heat flared deep within my bowels, sweet, flowing seeds of life pouring into the far reaches of my belly, and my cry swelled into an ecstatic moan for just a moment. My knees grated across the ground, my chest sore, as Zenny unleashed his powerful, thick load of cum within me. Our bodies pulsed together with overbearing heat that seemed to crowd out the sounds of nocturnal wildlife itself, my head pulsing in moments of shuddering silence, between which I heard snatches of my boyfriend shuddering hoarse groans and my own exhaustive moans.After few minutes of relishing this moment and affectionately staring into each other’s eyes, the troll took his left hand and started gently rubbing my unsatisfied dick on his belly, “It be ya turn to spread ya seed in me, now…” He begged, his pulsing throbbing member still twitching within my asshole.Spurts of his seed escaped my pucker as I slowly lifted my hips to allow his dick breath. His abundant cum ran down the sides of my inner thighs and landed on his body as I felt a rushing river of semen flow outward. The troll’s cum-coated penis flopped as I wobbly shifted myself away from his sturdy position and onto my knees, similar to when my mouth swallowed him. I teased his member, desiring a taste of the seed he planted within me and hints of sweet, fruity sensations frolicked within my mouth along with its slimy texture exploring the terrain of my palates. The brisk strokes of my licks caused him to shudder again and again as I gathered all of the leftover seed developing from his dick.The troll gradually slid down the tree so that his back rested against the semen-stained soil and lifted his legs, begging for more. Despite having released his load a few minutes ago, trolls’ refractory periods must have been short as his dick was twitching hard once more for me. Holding his legs against my shoulders and swinging closer, my starving manhood subconsciously scraped against the miracle inch between his pink pucker and his ball sack. I caressed his slender yet robust abs as I rested my penis atop his, tugging his jittery heartstrings from this newfound intense love.Before applying coconut oil lubricant I bent down and licked his butthole, grasping and gently squeezing his ass cheeks. My tongue delightfully whirled and poked his pucker, wetting his anus with my saliva.“Y-Ya tongue be ticklin’ me entrance… mon…” He moaned, clutching the back of my head with his hands for support as I poked further and further with it. I adjusted my knees and his legs resting against my shoulders as his expression spelled a face of loving anticipation.Then, lubricating his anus and then slathering the drops of smooth oil around my shaft, I aligned myself. He cried out, his normally soothing voice quaking, “P-Please… enta me… ‘Renzo…”Slowly taking hold of those hips, I let a deep, hot breath roll from my nose as a hungry grin spread on my face, signifying my desire was as strong as his. My hips jerk in, unable to hold back another second, and I feel that slow-slickening tightness strain around me, his pucker swallowing my cockhead. Bouts of strain escaped from him as he struggled to adapt to the new foreign object entering his rectum. I grit my teeth, keeping it there until the pain subsided and he audibly longed for more of me. With a deep breath I worked my shaft in tight, cascading thrusts, pushing ratcheting moans from the troll as I worked my dick in until I was grinding against his ass cheeks ten minutes later. That soft flesh was pressed crushing tight around the very base of my cock, encasing me completely as I throw against his insides, spattering the walls with exultant gushes of precum. The troll writhed in spells of exciting pleasure, accidentally pushing off-balance, and swallowing a moan to give a yelp as he realized it. My hands tightened around his waist, grinding his ass to my crotch. I took a moment to enjoy the union with a slow, drooling smile that matched his, the troll’s virginity taken. His butthole’s grip on me was almost excruciating, and a snarl swelled in my throat as I gave a slow buck of my hips, grinding through that tightness.I bucked towards my feet, gently lifting his frame on an angle and placing a hand on the bark of the tree for support, his head resting on the grass below. I shivered slowly as I dragged my other hand down to stroke over his rear, smirking a lustful hint as I murmured a few calming words, the druid adjusting his elbows to support our position.Zenny shudders, drawing one or two slow, deep breaths—and gasping loudly as I gradually dragged out. His longing need and his gaping hole coerced me to slam back in, pushing a throating, deep-toned moan from the druid, and bounce off for another stroke. It was dissipating, but the wondrous pressure lingered around my member for a moment as I forced in and out of his ass, stroking that ring up and down as much of my length as I could manage, pounding away, and my balls slapping the underside of his rear with each heartfelt hump. His eyes stare at the forest canopy for a second and his head gives a few nods back and forth as I gently and lovingly thrust my cock in again and again, rocking his body roughly back and forth. I’ve been drooling all over his insides this whole time, so I thought I’ve worked it around myself enough now… I spread my feet a little and set into pounding in industriously, claiming his tight hole with solid, constant, unrelenting strokes, letting his thinly padded booty absorb each blow before I drag it back for the next. My new boyfriend’s back bowed, arching upwards slowly as he attempted to clutch a few blades of grass to maintain strength. He couldn’t seem to stop moaning—even when he draws breath, the sounds perverted by his rich voicebox. I kick up my pace and drive harder, every strip of sound from him stimulating my need to release myself deeply within him. My hips moved on their own accord, desperate for that sweet moment when that tight ring dragged over the fattest swell of my shaft, when it grinded in tight against my very base, separated only by a battered, thin-squished layer of troll flesh. I throbbed fat against his insides at the deepest thrust of each stroke, perhaps for his wringing grip or gritting, horny face.Somewhere between the singing and moaning we both felt incredible at our personal journey of sex. My arms trembled slightly as I worked my free hand to help him adjust to the length of my manhood burying down his anus. My powerful rutting slowly faltered, losing tempo as my hips jerked forward, slamming a stinging stroke into his ass to grind his cheeks bitterly against my crotch. My breath fell to a deep and heavy panting as I plow in again and again, the pleasure overriding and overwhelming every other possible emotion.“Z-Zenny… Zenny… Zenny… F-Fuck… I’m g-gonna… gonna… c-cum…” When my balls slapped to his taint finally jerking tight, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I released a long, low, primal groan, scraping through my throat as my hips plastered against the troll and fired pent-up white-hot spunk deep within his ass. Shot after shot I spent into him, fingers like steel clutched my hips as he pushed me further inside as my eyes slowly waver from his, my dick pulsing semen. The tickle of his thin fur against my flexing sack sent a subtle shiver up my back and I poured more into him than I knew I had.For one spiritual moment, we were united in heart and soul. I dripped the last of my seed into him as his own member spurted wild ropes of cum onto his belly and face, a second helping. We watched as our taint spread throughout ourselves as I pulled out of his gaping anus and collapsed on top of the exhausted troll, happily lathering our sticky seed between each other. We chuckled softly as his cream still escaped from my sloppy hole, and my cream rushed out of his. We shivered softly, collecting ourselves, cuddling and snuggling with extraordinary amounts of messy semen.Our muscles burned, and the air was thick with the now—familiar scent of sex—of Zenny’s and my combined musks, sweat, seed and heat mixing in the air to create a vibrant scent unique to the two of us, together. It smelled wonderful, a mark of our love and a beginning to a meaningful relationship. In that moment I realized I had a broad smile planted on my face. My eyes traced fondly over the messy thin layer of fur of that panting troll. We ran our fingers through our forms, across our shoulders and along our necks, fondly nibbling on each other. Finally, we stared at each other, glowing bright red and possessed half-lidded eyes, catching our breath with nothing but the sight of each other to pass us.“I love you.” I said before my mind had shut down from pure exhaustion, bliss, and ecstasy and I passed out on his tainted body, holding his hands and our expended dicks sharing light kisses.I don’t know how long I was out, but at some point, I heard fragments of a familiar deep voice that rang and echoed peacefully in my mind, “’Re—zo…”“’Ey m—n… W—k— up…”
My eyes gradually nudged awake to a slightly wobbly troll lover carrying me in his arms near the Antu’kah Ripple, focusing on the crusty texture splattered on his chest. Naked still, he rested me near the river where its stream was most gentle, “Our seed be crustin’, ‘Renzo, why don’cha help me clean it off us?” He smiled, his voice still crackly although a lovable, deep tone. As so thus we skinny dipped within the river and washed the marks of sex clinging onto our bodies. Difficult was this process as we fondly played with the water and had to eventually calm down when both of us started getting intimate and physical and our lower extensions started fantasizing about more of last night. Eventually, after hours of rough scrubbing with whatever we could find in the nearby woods and slight experimentation on how to clean our used anuses, we were able to rub whatever might’ve been indicative of our newfound love.Speaking of which, I hugged him firmly after we slipped on our luckily unaffected casual clothing, “Thank you, Zenny.”“What’cha tankin’ me for?”“For loving me.” He raised my chin with his fingers to get a good look at me, smiling wide and honest with half-lidded eyes.“Ya be mine ‘n I be yer’s now, ‘Renzo. Our love be strong ‘n true, foreva, always by ‘chother’s side. Dat is what de loas tell me ‘n dat is what we showed each otha last night.”My heart burning with my newly discovered love for the troll, I had realized that I was torn between returning to my duties as Commander within Tyria and staying with Zen’mafa by the Janthir Bay. I snuggled closer, burying my head in his tall frame.“I… I don’t want to leave… But I need to return back.” I said, tears forming near the ducts of my eyes.My boyfriend ruffled my gray fauxhawk, chuckling, “Heheh, don’cha worry ‘bout dat, mon.”“I wouldn’t want us to elope and for you to forsake your people. I would never want that.”“Why don’cha walk wit me to Leb’Aman?” Puzzled by his intentions and whatever his ploy was, but trusting in him, we took a casual stroll and retraced our steps back to the sprawling village of the Lightspear and its extraordinary but oddly satisfying smells, a combination of multiple and mixtures of incense.I didn’t want to leave this place and its tight-knit community, its sexually-positive culture and its close spirituality. It certainly isn’t wrong or unacceptable to be anything other than heterosexual back home in central Tyria, but here it’s more… common to be anything but that. I felt more welcome and with others that related to my identity. It wasn’t unusual to see polyamorous trolls, gay trolls, agender trolls, nonbinary trolls… and more. They didn’t necessarily attach a label to each of those things just like how we Tyrians had come to accept, they just were their identity. Sexual culture was something I admired with the Lightspear, and it was something I learned from Zenny that their sexuality was repressed when they broke off from their original tribe in which they were slaves and meant solely only to procreate and produce more able-bodied offspring. I suppose an embodiment in queer-centric identities was a byproduct in their attunement with the loa and the spirits, but nevertheless it was a culture I was definitely fond of. Going back to Divinity’s Reach and most other areas in Tyria where the norm is to be straight undoubtedly took a few days to adjust. Really, we should take a note from the Sylvari and their views.Okay, Lorenzo rant over. Zenny brought me to the chieftain’s den where his mother was pacing and musing within her central chamber, her usual servants off for the rest of the week due to the holiday post-ceremony.“What if I be married to de—ah! Zenny! How ya escapade went?”He kneeled, and I followed suit, though unsure of his intentions, “O’ Chieftain o’ de Lightspear, de woman who birthed me ‘n cared for me all me life, yer son asks dat he explore de rest o’ de world wit de love o’ his life. Dat I follow de traditions o’ all first-born children o’ de chieftain and wander Tyria wit me love. Will ya honor me request?”She approached her son intently, quiet. My ears blared with redness as I realized the nature of his request, but I dared not disrespect their traditions right now.“O’ Zen’mafa o’ de Lightspear,” she began, snuffing the magical torches illuminating her room so that the only light source were the bright eyes of her owl-like tiki mask, “seventh druid o’ our tribe, protector o’ nature, blessed by de loa o’ life Zaleg’ba, but most o’ all… me son. Ya have the chieftain’s highest blessing ta follow yer heart, yer dreams, and yer duties.”She continued, lifting Zenny to his feet and speaking in a more casual tone, “Zenny,” she started, “ever since ya brought dis man to our home I knew dat ya’d be fallin’ in love wit him.” She snapped her finger and light streaks of magic relit the torches.My boyfriend looked embarrassed, perplexed and surprised by his mother’s accurate prediction.“Les just say dat I had a motherly vison,” she winked at me as I stood up, an expression half playful but also half ‘you better not get my son hurt.’They embraced for a hot minute, Zenny grateful for his mother’s approval, “Go explore de vast world before ya, Zenny. Learn o’ its infinite secrets ‘n knowledge ‘n protect de nature o’ dis world from de evils dat harm its balance.” They let go, and his mother, while tribally regal in appearance and stature, began to tear up at her son’s soon-to-be departure. She removed her mask and gave her son one last long hug.“I love ya Zenny, do ya mother proud…” She paused to wipe a tear climbing down her cheek, “now leave before I start cryin’ all over me self.”For the next several hours until dusk we said our goodbyes and farewells to the Lightspear trolls. Word spread fast of our departure and many came to say their sendoffs as well, giving charms, gifts, and supplies that represented their peoples. Zenny cried at how much he was appreciated throughout the village and took multiple long last-sights at the beautiful views of Leb’Aman. Memories of his youth flooded him of all the people and friends he connected with as many came to send us off and wish us good luck with our future and our relationship. Zenny promised that he’d return to tell them stories and tales of what he finds and he waved a heartfelt wave as we exited and navigated south towards the Woodland Cascades, within the deep and dense forest. Although emotional to leave his birth home, I comforted him with the new sights and new places to see from this point forward.Zenny with his iconic green and brown owl robes and carved owl staff and I myself returning to don my Protector’s armor (although always keeping the equipment I crafted at the beach as a keepsake), we traveled south towards central Tyria. I offered Zenny an invite to Dragon’s Watch to stand by and defend Tyria alongside me and my other friends. Without hesitation he accepted and mashed his face to mine with a seductive scoop of my armored body, attempting to plant a kiss but instead scratching my lips as his tusks brushed by my face when he went in for the kill. Nevertheless it was extremely adorable as I smirked and blushed when he struggled to meet his lips against mine, padding my slightly bloodied mouth.Days of restless travel and navigation through the woods we finally exited to a curious team of Tyrian Explorers making rounds and finalizing data. As it turns out, we coincidentally found and followed the exit point that the team of surveyors and explorers I initially traveled here with entered from.“Commander? Commander!” An excited Asura yelled out from behind a few makeshift tables with Asuran technological devices operating atop. “Where did—whoa! What are YOU?”Following the shock of seeing the Commander with a passive, non-aggressive intelligent humanoid of indeterminate origin next to him, Surveyor Srizzi had managed to convince Zenny and me to be allowed to thoroughly examine the troll. Her team had been making rounds and exploring the Woodland Cascades for the month I was gone, but had not discovered aspects of the region more interesting than natively unique flora and wildlife seldom found elsewhere. As we spoke, Zen’mafa was instructed to sit down on a small prefabricated Asuran stool as the campaign lead eagerly scanned and inspected his biological and physiological features. She yelled shorthanded terms and phrases to her note-takers as she investigated his body.She noted how they called themselves trolls and that they had bore some similarities with the trolls we knew from central Tyria, but were vastly different and more cultured. With each word she spoke, and with every member of her team equally enthusiastic about this potentially extremely significant new find, they cooperated with her methods and research. I watched as they treated Zenny as this new archaeological find, although I made sure that they asked him if he was okay with what they were doing before they continued, making sure he was comfortable and not wanting a repeat of the early Sylvari Secondborn.The troll was unexpectedly reciprocative the research being done on him and all the attention we was receiving. He asked his own questions about those that examined him, like how the Asura used large words he didn’t understand, how Norn were bulky, and what do Sylvari eat if they’re just living plants. For the one Charr Crusader from the Vigil, Zenny found it strange that he reminded the druid of big cats that the Shadowhunters hunted and sometimes tamed back at Leb’Aman. The Charr wasn’t exactly fond of that comment, and he threatened the troll that the Blood Legion would quickly nub those tusks of his.Time passed slowly as many of Srizzi’s team had talked about what my discovery and rumors circulated and speculations arose. Zenny talked about his culture and how his people worked their daily lives as long as the team talked about theirs in return, a fact that Srizzi found intriguing. He was excited to learn about everyone else just as everyone else was enthusiastic towards learning about him. He demonstrated his magical capability, of which it was measured extensively and found to be slightly anomalous in nature. The language Srizzi described about it was unclear and baffling, so I couldn’t really understand the talks she had with her fellow Asuras.To my surprise, Zenny nearly revealed that we had took each other’s virginities, but I cut him off as soon as I realized that he was talking about the Lightspear’s inclusive culture to sexuality and his newfound love for a certain someone. Gah, Srizzi probably was able to infer that he meant me, but there wasn’t much I could do but scratch my head and look away awkwardly. Why else is Zenny here on his own will and willing to cooperate with humans, Asurans, Norn, Sylvari, and Charr that he’s never seen before? He must have been excited to see them when I told him about our collective society before.As the day waned into night and Srizzi’s campaign came to a close after its unexpected sudden extension, we bid our farewells as she murmured to herself that she’d be the next greatest Asura for her team’s find, thanks to me. This small group of Tyrian Explorers Society dispersed back to their organization to report their findings. Zenny was happy to serve my friends and I was relieved that he wasn’t harmed.Telling me that he wanted to visit the homes of all the races he saw, we set off, first to my home, Divinity’s Reach. Hand—in—hand, together as boyfriends, we made sure that we would always love each other and learn more about the world and protect it, along with each other.He was a part of my life now, and I was a part of his. It’s surreal to think about it in that way, even though it’s only been two and a half months since we left the Cascades and we’re staying at a Lions Arch inn as I write this in here. Strange… huh. To see him picking up a book and learning to read our script, having come from a completely oral-based society. To see him lounging in our bed for the night, adopting our culture while still proudly retaining many parts of his in a unique identity. To see us grow and mature as lovers, learning to accept each other as time moves on.I don’t know how often I’m going to write in here, but I think I’ll definitely write again sometime. Putting it down in words just releases this… good feeling. To recount and reflect on everything that’s happened. After all, he’s my boyfriend and I love him with my heart. I don’t know when next I’ll write, but… for now… just let me have this one night with him…Alone.