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Fire Emblem H-eroes

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Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


As she heard the chamber doors open, Anna knew it was him. her eyes snapped up from reading the same line for the past hour. With no more need for a distraction, she tossed the ledger aside and turned to face him.

“You’re late.” she growled at the young prince. The glare of her smoldering red eyes were amplified behind the sharp lenses of her reading spectacles. So much so that her guest audibly gulped before explaining himself.

“M-My apologies; Sharena kept me occupied with one of her fantasies.” he nervously regaled. His commander huffed as she rose to her feet, letting the sheer white and gold night robe fall into place against her frame. The silken cover did little to hide how...developed, she was.

Anna pursued her lips and contemplated his excuse. She knew from the quick that he wasn’t lying; the Askrian prince was a terrible liar. She held her gaze long past the point of comfort before finally letting out a short laugh.

“That does sound like her.” his commander mused. Just thinking of the flustered prince attempting to side-step his chipper sister in an attempt to get to her chambers was a fun picture. “Well I hope you don’t keep me waiting anymore.” she said as she stood up, her voice morphing out of the cheerful commander into something...sultry.

“Lock the door.” Her order had him scrambling backwards faster than any usual command would. He fumbled for the latch and wrenched it until he hear a loud 'click' . Satisfied, he turned around just in time to see her carefully place her discarded robe against the chair back.

The lingerie she was wearing just screamed ‘Anna’: a red-cupped babydoll that strained against her heaving breasts. The prince dared to draw his eyes down her taut stomach to the matching set of panties, or more specifically to the way they pinched at her hips. Her slightly tight attire was capped off with a pair of black thigh-highs gently squeezing her calves. ‘Oh gods, those skindents.’ the youth audibly gulped.

The redhead was poised to remove her glasses, but paused just before the rims came over her eyes. ‘Now that I think of it...Prince Alfonse always did seem to stall whenever he walked in during a strategy briefing.’ the commander mused. ‘Oh what the hell; it’s not like I particularly need these to see.’ she shrugged as she turned back to face him.

“It’s been a while since I wanted- or needed, to look good.” she shrugged, not in the least bit self-conscious of her slightly small attire. One look at the prince’s reactions told her that was far from his mind. The way her subordinate brazenly stared caused a slight pink to appear on her cheeks, complimenting her spectacles nicely.

“Wha? N-no not that. You’re always, well I’mean- It’s just…gods.” the normally-composed noble was a gibbering mess. But really, who could blame him? Anna was gorgeous, even the prince couldn’t deny that. But with that babydoll and especially her glasses...well, his approval was quite prominent.

Watching him stumble over his usually-composed words turned out to be quite a treat. She couldn’t help but let a mirthful giggle escape her lips. “For a prince, you’re really not too good at oration, are you?” she lightly barbed as her finger came up to her lips.

“Why don’t you bring that tongue over here and put it to good use?” she cooed. The struggle to keep from laughing as he nearly tripped over every discarded map and book was great. Yet eventually he made it to her and came to a rest mere inches from her trembling lips. Even if he was about ten years her junior, the prince was already a bit over her.

Anna waited with growing impatience for him to make the first move. Her cool composure masked a somewhat frantic heartbeat and the growing warmth in her loins. She resisted long enough for him to reach a hair’s breadth from her mouth before diving in.

They started slow, keeping their mouths together yet open to exchange spit. Her tongue tickled his bottom lip, as if daring him to go further. Her hand rested on his chest as she felt him lean further in.

‘Amateurish’. That would be the best way to describe the prince’s makeout skills. ‘Adaptive’ was a far more flattering trait, trailing shortly behind. Anna fluttered her eyes as she leaned into the intimate, albeit chaste kiss.

The redhead moaned into his mouth as she felt his hand reach down and grope her butt. In response, her own nails wrapped around behind his neck and started lightly scratching at his neck.

Rather than let their current liplock descend into carnal bliss, the commander elected to make a brief tactical retreat. She rebuffed his tongue back with hers and pulled back before whispering...

“Again”

Alfonse picked himself up from the dirt, wincing at how his ribs protested. His tunic was covered in grime and dust, hiding the once-pure white garb under a thick coat of grit. His blue hair wasn’t much better off. And his skin…’Gods, it’s gonna take a while for these to heal.’

“I’m not going to say it again, recruit.” a perky voice broke through his musings. He looked up at the coy face of his commander. Her finger affixed to her chin in that particular pose with her other hand deftly cradling her axe. A wide smirk on her rosy lips...

“A-again.” she whimpered before he swiftly silenced her. The force that he put into his renewed kiss pressed her lens’ against her face. His grip on her ass tightened as his other hand reached up to put equal force on her breast. ‘There’s the potential I see in you, Prince.’

Alfonse was quickly contested of his dominion as the redhead fought back. Their lips gave way to let their tongues out for dueling. Her nails dug deeper into his neck. He gave her butt a small smack. Their private war escalated as they began to move backwards.

It was hard to tell who was leading, either he pressing her on, or her drawing him in. regardless of its architect, the two traversed the room until Anna’s legs hit the edge of her bed. the two toppled over without missing a beat.

Having herself pinned didn’t do a thing to placate her. In fact, the commander doubled her efforts in assaulting his mouth. His intimate naivety proved his undoing as the older woman snaked passed and began to ravish his mouth...

“Weapon advantage is only going to get you so far you know.” Anna mused as she leaned forward on her weapon’s handle. He was back on his ass after being overpowered by the commander’s axe. “Sometimes you’re going to come up against an opponent that is simply too skiled or powerful for you to face.”

“And what should I do then?” he inquired as he struggled up to his knees. A light clap on his shoulder brought his attention to her waiting hand.

“Either live to fight another day...” she instructed as she helped him to his feet.  “...or come up with something unexpected.”

Her last words rang in his ear as he came up with a flimsy plan. He drew back his head, knowing that she would eagerly follow. Once her felt her tongue scrape against the back of her teeth, he sprung his trap.

Anna audibly gasped as she felt her royal subordinate grind into her panty-clad sex. He swiftly brought his hands to bear on her perky nub and succulent rump. ‘A triangle attack!’

Alfonse had no way of overpowering her, even if her actual experience was lacking as of late. So he was taking her advice, not by drawing away, but by attacking her from all fronts. She grinded back in retaliation already knowing that this was a short-lived battle. For only the second time since his induction to the Order, Commander Anna was bested.

“Y-you’re improving.” she panted as she pulled away, leaving a thin trail of spit connecting their lips. Her glasses were askew, but the look of lust and pride in her eyes was still plain to see. Whatever blush she might’ve had paled in comparison to the rose on his cheeks.

“Comman-“ his attempts to address her were cut short as she swiftly silenced him.

“No, none of that.” she sternly ordered before withdrawing her finger. He was so raptly attentive to the sight of her coy little digit he didn’t notice her palm until it had tenderly cupped his cheek. “I’m not your commander here. Just for tonight, please: call me Anna.”

His thoughts were a disjointed mess at her words. Ever since he first set foot in these hallowed halls, he’d been duitful in giving the redhead her proper respect. But to be told now to drop those formalities… “I...as you will, c-Anna.”

“Thank you, Alfonse.” She beamed as she stroked his face. Her omission of his royal title made it quite clear that station had no place for them tonight. With that out of the way, her expression and voice took on that husky, breathy tone again. “Now let me up. I promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

Her words spurned him off of her and allowed the older redhead to rise up. She shimmied her way off the bed, listening to his grunts of exertion as he removed his trousers. It wasn’t until his shirt was over his head and tossed aside did he see where she’d gone.

“Oh no; we’ve actually got time to indulge tonight, and I intend to make use of it.” she explained as she patted the edge of the bed. Once she saw he was obeying, the redhead sunk to her knees. Her hand was on his shaft the moment it became visible.

“What a fine sword.” she cooed as she got her first real look at the prince’s cock. Her finger traced aline down from his slit to the base before the rest of her hand wrapped around it. ‘I can’t even cover it all with my hand…’ she gawked before her smile turned almost predatory. “A worthy sidehand to Fólkvangr indeed.”

With a final smirk she leaned in and began to lavish is cock with her tongue. Her free hand quickly re-adjusted her glasses before reaching down to cup his balls. Feeling those verdant nuts pulse under her touch just made her even more eager to go further.

“Anna…” Alfonse hissed as he succumbed to her deft handwork. But even that wasn’t the main reason for his arousal. Staring into those hot burning pools and the half-moon spectacles made his already-firm penis stiff as a board.

The red-tressed temptress lashed up to his crown before swiftly gulping it down. She maintained her eye contact with the squirming youth as she noisily consumed more of his erection. Her tongue left dainty licks on the underside of his shaft. Hollowing out her cheeks allowed her to place a greater degree of suction on his penis.

The red headed axe-maiden bobbed her head against his noble pride. Her own loins were practically boiling as she took in the senses of a long-witheld sexaul encounter. The musky smell of his dick, the sounds of her messy blowjob and his stimulated grunts, and even the texture of his his penis lit a fire in her very soul.

But she had made a crucial mistake in her enthusiasm. Alfonse was young and quite vulnerable to the touch of a woman, especially one that was so sex-starved as her. She was only afforded a moment’s disappointment before her keen mind thought of a plan.

“Co-Anna i’m-!”

She acted quickly, pulling off his cock with a lound *Mwah!* and pressing down on the base of his cock. The older woman watched him struggle to get that last bit of stimulation to bring him over the edge, only to find nothing and painfully recede back. She had a reason for her sudden cruelty however. ‘Just play along a little longer, dear prince.’

“I could just let you finish in my mouth. Or…” she kept her firm grip on his shaft until she felt him grow still. ‘I really am sorry about this, Alfonse.’ she silently repented as she carefully removed her hand from his penis. Once she saw she had his irate attention, her plan went into effect.

“How’d you like to buy a deluxe package?” Anna asked with her trademark saleswoman quip. The fact her voice carried that same husky reverb only made things slightly more bearable.

“Is that seriously what the coins are...fine.” he relented before reaching over to his discarded vest and pulling out two gold coins. ‘I didn’t expect her to actually do this.’ he mused as he handed her one of them.

“A wise choice! Now then…” she cradled the little gold disc before plunging it right between her tits. Their respective gazes didn’t break as she reached behind and unclasped the bra of her negligee. She caught the straps under her pits before it could drop though, intent to be as drawn-out and showy as possible.

“What are youuu-oh.” Alfonse sucked in his words as he saw her press her still-covered tits together. His watched with rapt attention as she reared up and stuck his painfully hard penis between her breasts.

“You’ve been so patient with me.” Anna said as she rubbed her breasts against his shaft. She could just make out the head of his dick peeking out from the top of her cleavage and aimed it right at her face. “So don’t hold back.” she stressed before leaving her mouth open and her tongue out.

A few jerks later and he was cumming all over her face. Her breasts got very little from the first shot being slid back up between her valley, with the rest glazing her face and hair. Some of it even landed right on her tongue and gave her the first taste of what would soon become a favored treat. Anna’s eyes stayed open the whole time as any errant rope merely hit her glasses.

Alfonse collapsed backwards onto the bed as the last of his cum was coaxed out. The redhead waited until the last tiny spurt trickled out before taking the flacid penis in her mouth. She bobbed her head along his girth, cleaning as much of it as she could before pulling it back out with a wet *Pop*

“A little too salty...but I like it!” she cheerfully declared as she worked on scooping up the rest from her face and depositing it into her mouth. Her lover looked up just in time to see her take a small dollop from the valley of her breasts and placed it near her lips in a familiar pose. Her tongue took care of the rest.  

The prince was ignorant to her antics. Instead he looked up at the vaulted ceiling of her room as he basked in the glow of his second orgasm ever. “T-that was...wow.”

“Better than a romp in the stables, huh?” she asked as she plopped down next to him. He gazed over and did a double take. There she was; her tits brazenly hanging out with a thing glaze of his royal seed. That alluring sight coupled with the way her thigh caressed his pelvis had an obvious result.

Anna perked up at the sudden protrusion and glanced down to confirm her suspicions. “Well you’re good on stamina, but there’s just one little problem.” she explained as she rolled away from him.

Alfonse tiredly rose to his elbows and turned to face her. His older lover had placed hersef near the pillows and spread her legs, showing off her rich red panties. “I’m afraid your path has been blocked off by a gate.”

“Can you drop the snake-oil act?” he flatly asked. He’d been able to humor her antics, but now they just seemed like a waste.

“Only if you bring me your little snake, dear Alfonse.” she cooed, her face struggling to remain sultry. A stiff silence passed before her smile finally won out. “Okay, okay. I’m done. But seriously, the coin please?”

The prince sighed at his superior’s antics, but nonetheless humored her. She took the second coin in her hands before placing it on the nearby nightstand. “Thank you for your patronage! Now then…”

Without taking her eyes off him, she reached to her hips and hooked the edges of her panties. Slowly, the redhead brought her legs together over her head. As he indulged in the sight of her stocking-clad thighs, the red lacy garment was drawn up her legs and onto her foot.

“I-ah.” the young swordsman had no words in light of the tantalizing display he’d just witnessed. Anna laughed and kicked the wet garment away before turning over. The young man resisted the urge to brazenly stare at her lucious ass.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting.” she called back, wiggling her hips enticingly.

“Mmm, much better.”

Alfonse was already on his feet as he heard her appraisal of his skill. His cheeks were already losing their luster as the heat of the moment passed. ‘She’s playing dirty, wearing those same panties as that night...NO! Not now!’

Anna grinned as she watched her younger lover squirm. They’d only just started to meet in secrecy, with a single fuck in the stables under their belts. It was a quick  romp, but so damn satisfying... and yet she wanted more. More and a longer time to spend with him and really sate her long-suffering desires.

“Should we put up...that, wager, my prince?” she asked as she leaned on her axe handle with that damnable finger on her cheeks...

“Come now, is that really your be-essss-t?” she chided him as his hips slapped against her ass. She felt his hands clench against her back at her barbs.

Her skin shined with the sweat of their fucking. The coy look in her eyes was smothered by her fogged-over spectacles. Her stockings grazed his sides with every thrust, letting him feel a combination of the fabric and her taut thighs. It truly was a marvel that he hadn’t yet succumbed. ‘Mmmm, much, much better.’

Alfonse didn’t take too kindly to her tone as he doubled his pace. But it wasn’t going to be enough to just increase his speed, no he had something else in mind for her.

Anna happily sighed as her young lover rose to her taunt. He was still going a little too slow for her tastes, but she could live with this...for now at least. For now she could enjoy herself as he ravished her body. Feeling his stiff cock pistoning into her sopping folds, or the way his hands snaked down past her back to her...wait.

“W-what’re you?!”

The prince ignored her protests as he pulled her up until she was perfectly vertical. His grip on her stomach tightened as he thrust up into her pussy in this new, exciting angle. “Ooooh gods, Alfonse.”

He said nothing as he kept pounding into her, holding her as if she was no heavier than his trusty sword. The fierce jolt that had come with her sudden lift had caused her already frazzled ponytail to nearly come undone. Her glasses were now thoroughly fogged over.

And then he dropped her.

The redhead grunted as her face hit the pillow. She struggled to raise herself until she was barely holding herself up on her hands and knees. Here eyes blinked as she was suddenly assaulted by the return of light. “M-my glasses...Ah!”

Alfonse silently mourned the loss of her spectacles, but the sight of her ravaged body was already enough to get him off. “Anna, I’m-!”

*huff*...don’t tell me that’s it?” Anna panted as she tightened her grip on her axe. She was clearly winded and littered in the various scrapes and patches of a fierce duel.

He wasn’t in much better shape. Still, he mirrored her movements by squeezing the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. He didn’t respond to her taunt, and she didn’t offer any more words.

They were just getting started after all.

“Tell me something Alfonse. How much do you want to stick it in here?” she asked as she shook her ass, causing some of his jizz to drip out of her stuffed pussy. Once she was sure his eyes were on his derriere, she snaked her hands behind her and pulled them apart. Revealing her winking star to the winded-yet-eager young man. “Mm it seems like you do.”

Her coy musing had the effect she wanted as she felt him get hard in her twat once more. She relished the feeling of him sliding his way out to the tip before at last popping the question. “Buuuut...do you have another coin?”

“Wha-no of course not.” he sputtered. What a mistake that wound up being as Anna quickly let go of her cheeks and sealed her puckered gate.

“Well too bad; no booty for you tonight.” she declared as she kept grinding against his loins. Her backdoor might be sealed, but she was still more than happy to have him assault her keep. “What a shame; it would’ve been quite an experience I’m sure.”

“You told me to bring two coins!” he protested, his mind still reeling from this turn of events. He had done as she’d told him and while the rewards had been nice, she’d made no indication that there could be more offered to him. ‘If I’d known this was her game, I would’ve brought a whole sack of gold!’

“And that’s your folly; thinking that two would be enough.” the woman lectured him as she finally sprung her trap. Without letting his cock escape her tight messy snatch, the axemaiden lunged backwards and knocked him flat on his ass.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be taking the reins this time.” Anna declared as she looked back. With a shake of her head, her ponytail finally came undone. Leaving a long, sinuous river or red locks down her back.

‘Gods...why did she have to lose the glasses so soon?’ The prince lamented as he squirmed underneath her. But it was no use, her rump was simply too much for a fledgling such as he could hope to overcome.

She’d given him a chance to show her his stuff, and to his credit he’d done a fair job. That trick with raising her up and slamming her down had been unexpected and quite exciting. ‘But hey, if you want something done right…’

“You did well, Alfonse. But allow me to show you what I really want.” she explained as she placed her hands behind her on top of his hips. And then she began to bounce on his dick. Hard.

Her room was once again filled with the wet slapping of flesh and the carnal grunts of two horny soldiers. Her candle was on its last chunk of wax, ready to drape the room in a rich darkness. The duo were ignorant of this countdown, even as he used their precious little light to appreciate her well-toned back and arms.

Any attempts the prince made to thrust up were stifled by her pussy pounding down. She didn’t want him to interfere with her pleasure. ‘Maybe next time, sweetie.’

Alfonse was a crafty sort however, and quickly assessed his situation. He found a perfect place to jump in and stimulate her even without using his pelvis. Namely, her thigh-highs and the toned calves laying on the other side.

“A-ah!” she arched her back as his hands stroked her legs. Feeling his digits caress her sinewy muscles caused her to double over briefly. Unfortunately is superior wasn’t in the mood for any more of his little tactics and quickly shut him down.

“N-nice try.” she relented as she locked her grip on his wrists. “I want one thing from you, and you better give it to me...got it?!” she growled before resuming her frenzied pistoning.

At the rate she was going, it was no surprise that her lover lasted only mere minutes more. Having her velvet walls constrict and squeeze his cock was simply too much for him to bear. “C-c-c-Anna!” he howled as he shot his third copious load into her greedy sex.

Feeling her already-full womb assaulted by his hot load caused her already overtaxed body to shut down as she screamed. “AAAAH! Alphonnnnnnse!”

“I bested you, Commander.”

The redhead was still reeling from the force of his blow. Her trusty axe had been lost somewhere off in the distance. It was the first time she’d wound up on her ass in quite some time.

Dimly, she saw him reach his hand out to her. With her muscles still protesting, she accepted his aid and rose to her feet. But in the brief moment that she could reach his ear, she whispered her orders to him.

“Tonight, my room.”

The candles had burned out and cast them in darkness. The redhead had taken her young subordinate in her arms and waited for sleep to claim their weary bodies. In the growing stillness of her personal quarters, she leaned into his ear.

“Tomorrow...your room.”


be sure to check out the special Easter chapter, hosted exclusively on the Smutstravaganza Exhibition here!

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


 

The Spring Festival was upon them once again. A joyous time that was heralded with all manner of fun and revelry. But for the mollified crown prince of Nohr, this saccharine cavalcade might as well be a nightmare.

“If father saw me now…” he grumbled as he pulled down on the garish pink vest. It was bad enough having to keep up this charade all year, but now he had to watch all the happy members of the Order of Heroes wear this same garish uniform. ‘Well at least some of them share my reservations for the ensemble ’ he grumbled.

But then there were perks to his perpetual state, such as the shimmering eyes of his siblings whenever he walked past them in the halls. Often times in quick succession or with radically different ensembles. It was...odd, coming to grips with there being multiples of his family ‘Including myself! One trying to learn how to swim it seems…’ he mused as he caught sight of his summer doppelganger.

“Prince Xander!”

“And speaking of doppelgangers.” he whispered before turning to face his new arrival. “Ah, princess Sharena. You’re looking quite...festive.” he complimented her ‘This must be her doppelganger, the one that came through with the Hoshidan ninja.’ his contemplation quickly turned less savory as he thought of the kunoichi and her…’challenges’, with her attire.

“He he, thanks!” she beamed as she gave a little twirl and bow. The egg in her cup wobbled with every step, but remained in place. “You don’t look so bad yourself!” she praised him.

With pleasantries exchanged, Xander was prepared to bid her a good day and continue on his merry way. That is, before she abruptly stopped him. “Hey wait, you’re missing your lance!”

“Ah yes, well I figured since the tournament was over, there was no need to be carrying my weapon any further.” he shrugged. “Without it I can spend that much more time greeting and gifting our comrades.”

Sharena didn’t seem too happy at his rationale. “Prince Xander! You can’t be serious about walking around these fairgrounds without your lance. How...how careless!” she huffed before turning on her feet and marching the other way. “Come on, we’re going to get it.”

Xander was befuddled at her antics and called back to her retreating form. “Wait, why this way?”

“All loose eggs and carrots have been taken to the unused stall near the edge of the fairgrounds.” she explained as she led him away from the crowded square...

“There’s...quite a number of eggs and carrots in here.” Xander mused as he looked at the cramped stall’s interior. The wooden shutters were down and locked tight, meaning that only a few candles were able to light up their surroundings. “Princes Sharena, I don’t think my lance is in he-”

“We won’t know unless we look, so hop to it.” Sharena insisted as she put down her cup near the entrance before literally hopping over to a stack of carrots nearby. He sighed at her antics, but ultimately opted to humor her.

“Oh, look at these tiny little ones! Aren’t they so cute?” she squeeled as she plucked a baby carrot out of an open tray of them. Xander walked over to see what made it so particular. ‘It looks no different than any other small carrot.’

“They’re more like an appetizer than anything else if you ask me.” she mused as she played with the baby carrots. Xander’s moral fortitude failed to keep him from noticing how risque her gestures were. The way her gloved hands caressed the slightly bumpy orange skin was...alarming. “Wait, don’t tell me that your lance is only this big.”

The prince was taken aback at her sudden inquiry. “N-no, it’s much bigger than that.” he insisted. His voice openly showed his shock at such a line of ridiculous question. ‘How preposterous; her hand is already covering it for goodness sake!’

“Mmm, I find that hard to believe.” the princess snarkily declared before popping one of them in her mouth. Her face morphed into an impish smirk as she looked at the flustered prince and his askew cap. ‘This is too much fun.’

“I think I would know the size of my own lance.” he stressed before adjusting his hat. He looked down at that girl, waiting for her rebuttal the moment she swallowed.

“You could be exaggerating to show off.” she offhandedly suggested as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Her blunt accusation threw the usually composed prince for a loop.

“Of all the asanine-I would never!” he practically roared as she picked up a particularly tiny one with her thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t even the size of her pinkie and bent under her barest use of force.

“Okay, okay. Geez, you seem kind of sensitive about this.” she teased him as she tossed the useless little thing away. She moved onto the normal-sized ones nearby, combing her fingers over the bundles of vegetables.

“I am not. I am merely speaking the truth about the size of my lance. It is quite large.” he proclaimed. A crunch and a muffled comment signified that Sharena had pulled out two more and had taken a bite out of one of them. He didn’t even need to glance at the uneaten one before continuing. “Much bigger than that, or the ones next to you even.”

The princess chewed on her snack and swallowed before responding. “The blackened ones?” she asked as she pointed to a stack of abnormally large, irregularly shaped carrots that had been charred.

“Yes...come to think of it, why are there burnt carrots in here?”

Sharena shrugged. “You might be better off not asking.” she suggested before turning back to the missing matter at hand. “So you’re suuuure that it’s larger than any of the carrots here?” she asked as she leaned back against the table.

“Yes Princess Sharena, I am comfortably sure.” he insisted. ‘Ugh, this is getting preposterous.’ he internally complained.

“What’s the big deal anyway? If it's not just overcompensating for something that is.” she pressed on as she leaned forward, presenting her surprisingly robust cleavage. Xander’s pride barely won out as he focused on her words rather than her supple, shapely body. “Is it really so special?”

“Of course; it is among the finest of carrots from the kingdom of Nohr. Seeded by one of its finest cultivators.” he proudly boasted as he praised the hard work of the diligent farmer. Sharena’s fixated mind however interpreted his words...differently.

“I-I’m sure.” she stuttered as her cheeks pinked. He didn’t notice it, and even if he had it could’ve been played off as a trick of the light. “But what makes it so special for you, particularly?”

“That lance was entrusted to me by my dear siblings. Specifically, my sisters.” he explained as a warm smile graced his face. Thinking of the beaming faces of Corrin and Elise and the delightful giggle of Camila brought a sense of pride and accomplishment that made him tolerate the otherwise frivolous sham of a ‘weapon’.

His words were utterly innocuous, and yet Sharena once again saw the lewd potential. “Okay, i’ve heard enough.” she quickly said before turning away to hide her red cheeks. ‘Way too much information there pal…’.

Xander failed to see her plight and merely continued on. “Come now; don’t tell me you and your brother don’t share in the spring custom of exchanging gifts?” he asked. In truth it was a fool’s question. ‘Why else would she wear these garish things?’

‘Oh Gods, NO!’ She nearly blurted that out at thought. But the lump in her throat caught it in time for her mind to crawl out of the gutter. “Wha- I-I mean yeah. S-sorta…” Sharena fidgeted before quickly moving away. “I-i’m gonna look over there!”

He watched her depart, more specifically the way her fluffy cottontail bounced with every step. Sadly, the long tails of her coat concealed her ass from his gaze. Much like how her long loose ponytail hid her exposed back. ‘Focus you daft fool! This is no time to be a craven.’ he mentally admonished himself.

“Maybe it’s beneath the table.” she suggest as she got on her knees and reached into the cramped underside. With her coattails parted, Xander could no longer resist and openly gawked at her stark white tights. ‘How curious, her underwear is practically invisible.’ he mused as he looked at her conspicuously tight butt.

“Are you... certain you saw my lance being brought here?” he quickly asked, trying to abandon his premature inquiry of her underwear. He pulled his collar to let out some of the mysterious heat beneath his vest.

“Prince Xander, I know I saw it come in here. Trust me.” she called back as she pulled an empty crate aside and wiggled further inward. Her choice of words struck him as odd, and he pressed on.

“You saw my carrot lance?” he asked as he casually walked over. Or at least he assumed it was casual. Curiously, she seemed to shuffle as she heard his boots press down on the grassy floor.

“N-not right in front of me, no. B-but I think I heard Lyn and Celica talking about it earlier.” she called back before redoubling her efforts. He couldn’t see what she was doing, but it almost seemed like she was needlessly throwing around random boxes.

Xander was noticeably frustrated now. ‘What the devil is she on about?’ He mentally roared at her scatterbrained ramblings. Now she was relying on hearsay from Lyn and Celica? There were TONS of heroes in the Order that he had fought alongside, so why were those two ladies so prominent exactly?

...Unless.

‘No, it must be a coincidence.’  he mentally balked. Those two were rather unique compared to the rest of their comrades. Not only had he had shared a few battles with those two, but also some rather fun nights involving those two lovely ladies. Sometimes alone, and once or thrice as a team of sorts. ‘But how the devil would she possibly know that? And why would she want to get me alone before revealing that sort of information?’

‘...oh.’

Sharena squeezed herself further into the cluttered boxes, shaking her rear in the process. ‘What’s taking him so long?’ she lamented. Her anwer came when she felt something long and hard press against her rear. “Ah! T-took you long enough, dum-dum.” the festive princess moaned as she rubbed her ass cheeks on his carrot lance.

Xander’s response was to reach down, pull up her coattails, and grip her tights. She heard a *riiip!*, followed by the sudden cool air against her nethers. She protested the destruction of her attire. “H-hey! My outfit!”

“A healer can take care of that.” he simply said as he finished tearing her leggings. There it was; her dripping pussy and tight little asshole without a single scrap of smallclothes to be found. “Right now i’m feeling...peckish.”

“What does that meaaaaaan?!” her inquiry morphed into a moan as she felt his tongue feather her labia. His hands gripped the underside of her butt cheeks as he leaned further in, spearing her folds.“Ooooh you cunning-Aaah!”

Xander would not permit her to speak anymore, the only thing he wanted coming out of her mouth were moans and mewls. The angle of his attack would make it difficult to reach her clitoral hood or the quivering little bud within. ‘Difficult...but far from impossible.’

Sharena squirmed as she felt his tongue assault her sex. His fingers came up and lightly stroked the skin around her pussy, causing her further pleasure. The spring prince ravaged her little patch with the ferocity she’d long fantasized. ‘Gods, Celica was completely right about him!’

He was precise in his lashings, covering every possible inch of her vaginal walls with his tongue. His middle and forefinger kept her lips apart, letting her juices drip onto the grass below. Xander kept her constantly on the edge.

“Ah!”

“Hey, did you hear something?”

The girl froze in horror as an unknown voice came from across the thin wooden walls. In her haste, she’d forgotten the fact that they were still at the fairgrounds where tons of people were milling about. ‘Oooh crap. Didn’t think of that one…

His tongue’s withdrawal gave her a false sense of assurance that he had come to the same realization. In response she began to pull herself up off the ground. Those plans were delightfully ruined as she felt him compress behind her, followed by his fingers slipping past her entrance.

“M-maybe we should mooo- mmph ?!” her suggestion was muffled as Xander’s other fingers were stuffed into her mouth. Her tongue was quickly overloaded with the peculiar taste of her own quim juice. Her ears filled with the sounds of his finger-banging as pleasure once more warped her mind.

She suckled on his digits, eager to lap up as much of her carnal nectar as she could. She barely noticed him lean in until his mouth was next to her muffled ear. Not even his hand pushing the padded earmuff aside managed to wrest her attention. That came when his cold, stern voice struck through her mind.

“If they’re so bold, let them come.” he growled, sending a shiver down her spine and causing her to practically gush on command. Her dithering concern was cast aside as she swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded. Satisfied, Xander withdrew his hands.  “Now back on your knees.”

She fell faster than a flier against a bow. Her coy antics were forgotten in favor of eagerly awaiting his next move. She heard a zipper and the shuffling of trousers, followed by something poking at her wet entrance. Any thoughts of double-standards were wiped out as she felt the unburdened girth of Nohr’s finest against her supple cheeks.

‘Gods, what a fine ass.’ he mused. The perpetually festive prince had seen some quite fine derrieres in his service for the Order. Sharena’s was definitely on the finer end of the spectrum, but couldn’t hold a candle to HER .

He slid his cock up and down her butt a few times before rearing low to poke at her folds. His entry was slow but persistent, never once slowing down as she moaned at her wall’s dispersal. Xander slid further and further in until he knew for sure. She had no hymen. “How.”

It wasn’t a question, or a request. But Sharena was still compelled to answer. “A-a training accident.” she meekly explained. He seemed placated by that response and simply started thrusting. Without the burden of taking her maidenhood, Xander had no reservations against going all out.

“Oooh, Xander.” she moaned as he slammed into her hips. Her fingers dug into the dirt, staining her gloves as she held on for dear life. Her rabbit ears were flopping more than her bust or butt. So much so that they wound up flying right off her head.

“M-my ears!” she panted before groping to retrieve them. She struggled to pick them up and re-affix them while being drilled from behind. But Sharena was tenacious, and somehow managed to place the now-dirty headpiece back over her hair without losing her balance somehow.

Xander permitted her distraction, but offered her no quarter in his pace. He was too far down the rabbit hole now and had abandoned his usual composure in favor of his animalistic urges. The normally virile paladin was nearly primal in his single-minded ambition to fuck her stupid.

Their cramped confines were filled with the sounds of grunting and slapping flesh. The still air filled with the musky scent of sex. There was simply no way that anyone that happened to walk by wouldn’t hear what was happening and put things quickly together. But if she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore, Xander sure as hell wasn’t going to.

“Aah! X-Xa...I-I’m!” she managed to catch her falling ears in her mouth and used them to muffle her screams. Her orgasm passed with a gagged cry. His own climax was heralded by a roar as rope after rope of Nohrian proto-progeny filled her womb…

Sharena came to and let the now-soggy pair of ears fall out of her mouth. The musky smell of lust filled her nostrils and caused her to wrinkle her nose. If she could’ve seen herself do so, it would’ve made all those hours practicing in front of the mirror worth it. She let out a contented sigh.

“Who told you we were finished?” Xander growled before grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back. Sharena was so shocked she barely managed to put her ears back on and didn’t even flinch as her hair grazed the bottom of the table.

In a tremendous display of physical strength, the festive prince managed to rise to his feet, all without ever once leaving the warm, wet confines of her warren. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the shift in lighting or logistics and she almost missed his dominating voice.  “Grab onto something.”

“Wha-?”

The intent of that baritone decree was lost on her until after he’d already started pistoning back anew. She squealed and scrambled to grip the boxes in front of them, failing a few times before finding a flimsy hold along the sides. his own hands affixed themselves to her hips as he resumed his feverish pace.

Sharena spread her legs as she leaned her ass back, allowing him more room to access her velvet walls.He immediately took advantage of that fact as he proceeded to test her footing.

“Aah!” she squeaked as a particularly rough thrust made her bounce off her feet. As if sensing her vulnerability, Xander thrust higher into her sopping twat. Her feet dangled off the ground as she struggled to hold on. Ultimately, she planted the tips of her shoes to compensate for her absent heels.

Her hair was now practically shoved into his face, allowing him to brazenly sniff her blonde locks. ‘Daffodils...how nice.’ he mused as his hips kept thrusting. He spared a single hand to reach up and brush her loose ponytail aside, giving him an uncensored view of her sheer-covered back. The little tail bouncing, the slight ripples in her toned shoulder blades, and even the bunched up coattails spurred him on.

She gripped the edges of the crate as he pounded her. Her ears once again fell forward over her sweaty brow and dropped off her head before she could even realize what had happened. But at this point Sharena was simply too far gone to give a damn about them. Xander never cared in the first place and seemed almost thrilled at their absence as he doubled his pace.

Sweat littered their bodies, causing the garish outfits to stick onto their skin. Neither one let such a matter bother them, or even be more than a minor irritation. Sharena’s hands remained firmly on the sides of the crate, and Xander’s remained on the hips of her dress.

She was in a stupor now, a sexually induced high. Every nerve of her body was aflame as her tongue lolled out of her open mouth. The mixture of their earlier fucking leaked out from her slit and pooled near their feet. ‘Oh gods it’s all sooo good.’

“Corrin?!"

Sharena snapped out of her lusty stupor at his words. “What, where?!” she panicked, looking around for the sight of the likely mortified voyeur. But there was no one else in their seedy den.

“W-where’s your sis-broth...where’s Corrin?” she asked.

Her answer came in the form of something brushing against her now-lowered foot, compelling her to look down. When did a bunny get in here?” she asked as she saw the little fluff ball pick up her ears. “W-wait...do you mean the rabbit?”

“Of course.” he declared as said creature hopped up to the adjacent table with her discarded headgear in its little mouth. She was at a loss of words, not for him having a pet or what said pet was, but for what he had named it.

“You seriously named your bunny after your...you know what, whatever.” she sighed as she picked up the offered headband and re-affixed it to her head. ‘Ugh, there’s grass in my ear now. ’ she winced before turning back. “Just fuck me.”

Xander paused in the act of gingerly picking up his little friend at her crass words. It was as if he’d forgotten what they were doing, even as he was still balls deep inside her little blonde-tuffed pussy. But his loins certainly never forgot, and quickly his lower head once again wrested control.

Corrin the rabbit managed to slip back under his hat just in time for him to make good on her orders. She tightened her grip on the topmost crate’s lip as a lustful mewl escaped her lips. The sounds of slapping flesh once more echoed the cramped stall.

With his pet back under control, the two royals resumed their romp. Sharena was a little more lucid after the ridiculous antic they’d just witnessed and had the mind to try and subdue her sexual cries. Xander was not compelled to follow that same courtesy.

Time escaped their notice once more as he pounded her against the crates. Neither one noticed the subtle shifting of light  from the cracks as the sun dropped from the top of the sky. Or how disparate and subdued the bustle of the outside revelry had become.

Sharena came down from her orgasm and returned to the euphoria that had become her normal. Her body was littered with sweat as she heaved for every possible gulp of musky air. She was so sore, so tired..and she wanted so much more. “Xaaand-aaaaah!”

But sadly his strength was near its end. It was bad enough having the tournament earlier in the day, but walking around in this thick attire had made him burn more energy than he’d comfortably admit. So when the challenge came between his potent loins and his frayed body, his body gave first.

“Sharena!” he grunted in kind as his hips rammed into her ass and let his mighty carrot unleash inside her slick tunnel. He pressed further into her, causing her breasts to rub against the tower of crates and nearly topple them over. In kind, her little fluffy tail tickled his pubes as their conjoined nethers became drenched in the thick load of syrupy juice.

She whimpered as he pulled out of her thoroughly stuffed pussy. One errant shot of cum splashed against her coattails, staining the vibrant pink lining. It was bad enough that her skirt wasn’t going to do a thing to hide her exposed loins, or that her floppy ears were covered in spit, dirt, and sweat. She simply had no way of chatting her way out of this...not without his aid.

Her knees gave out and she collapsed into the boxes. Xander caught her and gently guided her down to the ground, spinning her around so her back was now supported. He gingerly drew back the disheveled locks of her hair, not even flinching as her fingers came up to meet his.

I shall leave first.” he insisted. While they were both equally exhausted, their minds were still quite keen. She knew he was essentially sacrificing his dignity to give her a chance to recover and slip away later. ‘Heh, once a paladin, always a paladin.’ she mused as she saw how radiant he looked, even in his outlandish suit.  I guess that even taking his armor off isn’t gonna change that’

He tried to pull away, only for her hand to stay caught in his grip. She tiredly looked up at him.. “Nah, let’s wait for the fair to clear out.” she insisted as she patted the ground next to her. Xander looked like he wanted to protest, but ultimately relented and settled alongside her.

Satisfied, she leaned back and let her exhaustion wash over her. Her hand reached down and played rubbed her stomach.

‘I should really get this outfit back to the other me.’ Sharena mused.

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


 

Roy grimaced as he watched the priest disappear in a flash of light. Off in the distance, Hinata held his own only long enough to take out another spear knight before succumbing to an archer’s arrow. That just left him...and her.

 

“Damned fool,” Kagero hissed as she tightened the reins on her tenma. She offered a quick prayer to the fallen hero, a habit that had not been broken by her arrival to Askr and it’s nature of reincarnation. Even the knowledge of limited immortality brought her no ease. For death would mean the failure of her mission...and that was not an option.

 

Roy avenged the samurai with a keen shot from the trusty bow Gratia. His steed made the journey swift across the ruined courtyard. That just left a blue-robed mage in the distance. But when he saw the glint of a particular tome, he realized how badly things were gonna go.

 

“Blárraven,” he hissed as the ethereal blue murder raced towards him. Those magical constructs would tear him and his mount to shreds. His panicked horse reared up as Roy flinched.

 

“Gah!” a higher-pitched cry rang out in his ears. He watched as the airborne kunoichi took the full brunt of the arcane ravens before dishing out revenge in kind. The horsebeast whinnied in pain. It was struggling to fly, but was nowhere near as bad off as its rider.

 

“Focus, boy,” Kagero hissed as she turned back to face him. Her sacrificial move had cost her pretty heavily. Her body was littered in scrapes and cuts. But what was more pressing was the damage to her outfit.

 

Roy had been reared to show due diligence and respect, and yet all those years of discipline went out the window as he brazenly gawked at her ruined attire. He’d begrudgingly admit that he’d been taken aback when he saw her spring festooned rabbit suit, but had focused on the battles as best he could. But now...well now it was going to be that much harder to stay vigilant.

 

The mage struggled to its feet, even closer to death’s door than the festooned tenma rider. One more shot from his bow or her carrots would finish him off. But then the Emblan remnants threw a wrench into the already-muddled plan.

 

“A troubadour!” Roy hissed as he pulled back his bow. One look at its rehabilitating staff made it painfully clear what a threat this would be. One tap of that staff would have their bothersome foe back to prime form and ready to annihilate the duo.

 

“I’ve got this,” Kagero declared as she snapped the reins of her tenma. The winged beast took off, intent to reach the troubadour before she could reach the prone mage. Roy took advantage of her inadvertent distraction to move closer and prime himself to end the mage for good.

 

Her mount wasn’t obeying her single-handed commands. Without hesitation, the kunoichi did the only thing she could think of to get her hands free and keep her weapon close. So with her uncovered eye firmly ahead, she shoved the large carrot right between her breasts. A sight that was clearly visible to the young lord Roy.

 

The arrow had snapped away from his bow as he beheld the lavisious sight. Her barely restrained bosom bounced with every wing flap, caressing and massaging the outlandish weapon. A similar bounce could be found in her rabbit ears and the little tail above her derriere. ‘By the gods…’

 

Kagero reached the troubadour just as the horse-clad healer was getting ready to raise her glowing staff. The kunoichi intentionally jiggled her chest and gave an upward bounce, causing the carrot to fly out of her bosom. Her deft fingers caught the stalk and launched the vegetable straight into the other woman’s jugular. “Ninjabbit Attack!”

 

Both of the Emblan troopers fell within moments of each other. A wave of relief passed through both of them as the dark sky pulsed a warm golden light. The battlefield had been cleared. They’d won, but at heavy costs.

 

Roy’s thoughts were still plagued with the vivid images of her outlandish strategy. He didn’t even realize that she was flying back to greet him. Not until she was upon him and his steed.

 

“We should move on,” Kagero simply stated as she dismounted her tenma. Roy shook off the combination of exhaustion and fantasizing at her words. He leapt down from his noble steed and looked up at the taller woman.

 

“I don’t think Roland is any shape to continue just yet,” he gently but firmly explained as he softly stroked the horse’s mane. Her face didn’t change, but he could tell that she saw the merit in his words.

 

“Then we should rest by the gate. Come,” she ordered as she led her grounded steed into the castle. Her heels clacked on the stone in tandem with the clops of her horse-like beast. The Elibian lord followed her closely behind, doing his best to ignore the sight of her buttcheeks bouncing with every step...

“Just through that door, and we’re almost done,” she explained as she closed the door to the adjacent chamber-turned-stable. With both of their mounts resting, that left the two winded heroes alone.

 

The great hall matched the rest of the castle; dilapidated and decrepit. The banners of an ancient kingdom lay tattered on the floor. Dim lights pierced the darkness from the candelabras, beckoning heroes to the door that would lead to their final trial.

 

“Do you think we can finish this?” Roy asked as he placed his bow on the wall nearby. Minus a few scuffs and tears, his ballroom attire was intact. A stark contrast to Kagero’s practically destroyed rabbit suit.

 

“Depending on who’s there, maybe,” she mused as she balanced the carrot in her fingers. She said no more, but it was clear the sense of dread that hung over them. Neither one were particularly suited to face anything truly daunting. Like an armored knight, or gods forbid a contractually-bound Hero.

 

Death was certain. Even with the knowledge that they would return to the great hall of the Order no worse for wear, there was no comfort to be found. The loss of potential growth and especially memories made it no different from dying in their eyes. And yet surrender simply wasn’t an option that either would humor.

 

Roy’s thoughts drifted back to that morning. To saying goodbye to his father as he prepared for this challenge. The chance to gain precious feathers was too enticing to pass up. And to be fair they’d done quite well...until they reached the castle.

 

And now...they were in trouble. Without Hinata, they had no direct attacker. Without Wrys, they had no means of healing themselves. ‘Well, there’s always my Reciprocal Aid,’ he mused as he looked at his gloved hands.

 

“Lord Roy, are you well?” Kagero’s stoic voice snapped him out of his thoughts. In his panic, he stepped back and placed his palms out...

 

Pomf

 

“Ah, you are…” she trailed off as her eye looked down at the hands now on her barely-restrained tits. The Elbian was too stunned at his brazen trespass to dare move. For her part the Hoshidan was just...standing there.

 

“I see,” she sighed as she stepped forward, pressing his palms further into her jiggling breasts. His arms bent to compensate until she was right against his petrified chest.

 

“Kagero, what are you-?!”

“It is a retainer’s duty to oversee the wellbeing of her lord,” she explained as she gently lowered his hands from her chest. In return, her palm reached down to gently cup his budding, clothed arousal. “That would include any forms of frustration or tension.”

 

Roy struggled to comprehend what she was saying. He knew what she was saying, but he couldn’t really understand why she was saying it. “B-but you’re not my vassal, Kagero.”

 

“Regardless, I am in your service right now. And as such I will take the responsibility of overseeing your care,” she stated as her hand stroked his pants.

 

“I think General Cecilia-” his protest was cut off by her finger on his upper lip.

 

“Is lady Cecilia here?” Kagero cooly asked. She watched his cheeks burn a shade just shy of his fiery locks as he stuttered and struggled. Ultimately, his voice would not respond, and he opted to merely shake his head in denial at her inquiry. “Then it is my role to bear,” she explained before withdrawing her digit.

 

Roy wasn’t sure how to process all of this. The last thing he’d expected when he left the Hall this morning was that he’d be getting his virginity taken. And by an exotic beauty like Kagero no less! “Alright, so where should we start?”

 

“Conventionally, sex is engaged with a kiss,” she explained as she tossed her carrot aside. He swallowed as he struggled to keep his eyes on her harsh gaze and not the delightful bounce just in front of him.

 

“You mean like this?” Roy asked as he stepped up and left a chaste peck on her lips. If the kunoichi was even the slightest bit less composed, she might’ve shown some kind of appreciation for his naivete and innocence. Instead...

 

“No,” she bluntly said. Before he could apologize, she’d grabbed his head and practically slammed him into her waiting mouth. He felt her sucking the breath out of his lungs as her tongue lashed at his lips. Yet before he could allow her access, she’d already broken away, leaving only a thin trail of spit between their mouths. “I will to lead you, and you will follow. Understand?”

 

She didn’t wait for him to respond before taking him again, less forcibly this time. Her fingers dug into his red hair, practically spearing her tongue into his parted lips. This time he started to press back, engaging her roaming tongue. His own hand reached around to caress her back. She gently pressed her knee into his groin in response

 

Kagero’s neck was getting sore, so instead she decided to make things easier for the both of them. Her uncovered eye flashed open just long enough to observe their surroundings. Satisfied, she nudged him along until he was pushed into the rotted chair, following him onto her knees.

 

From this angle, he was just a few inches above her. That was much more comfortable for the both of them as she kept coaxing his tongue along. Her hand drifted down from his cheek all the way to the noticeable tent in his pants. He practically bowled over as her deft fingers traced the outline of his bulge.

 

The kunoichi brought his attention back to her tongue work, prompting him to pick up the pace. She let him take the lead every now and again, resuming her control whenever she sensed him wavering. Below, her tenacious grip trailed upward until she found the zipper of his trousers and swiftly pulled them down.

 

Mwah! “W-what are you-Mmph!?” his attempts to question her were answered by her smothering him with her breasts. Meanwhile, her hand dove into his pants and firmly grasped his cock. She gave it a few cursory pumps before fishing it out.

 

“Impressive for one so young,” Kagero mused as she probed every inch of his girth. It wasn’t a lie, Roy’s genitals were outstanding compared to some of the targets she’d had the misfortune of seducing in her earlier missions. ‘Perhaps I’ll be able to actually enjoy myself this time…’

 

“You know what fellatio is, I take it?” she asked as she stroked his length. Roy gritted his teeth at her firm yet sensual touch and tentatively nodded. “Good, then allow me,” she finished before her mouth swiftly took his cock between her lips.

 

“Oh gods!” the youth gasped as he gripped her hair. The kunoichi kept passively looking up at him with that stoic gaze even as she bobbed her head along his length. The way her exposed eye stayed with him ensured she would be a regular feature of his nightly fantasies from this point on.

 

She pulled out every trick she had for such an act. Her cheeks hollowed in as she reached the base of his dick. Feeling his crown in her throat evoked a gentle hum that caused him to practically cum into her stomach then and there. Roy was simply overwhelmed at the skill the kunoichi exhibited. ‘How is she so good at this?!’

 

Kagero treated the blowjob the way she treated everything, as a mission. Her earlier touches had been to attentively seek out each part that would elicit a reaction. It wound up being easier to find what didn’t cause him to become metaphorical goo in her hands. ‘This should go quickly.’

 

Her lips drew up the entire length of his penis before letting go of his glans with a wet pop. She ran her tongue back down to his balls before starting to lavish each one with kisses.

 

Her hands returned to his shaft to pump him along while she was preoccupied with his scrotum. One palm reared up to polish his knob in tandem with her nibbling and suckling each of his sperm tanks. It was all too much for the inexperienced lad.

 

“K-k-Kagero, I’m-!”

 

His warning caused her to react quickly. She brought her head back to his crown, managing to take him into her mouth again. Her lips sealed against his length just as the first rope of cum splashed against the inside of her cheeks. ‘It tastes...sweet?’

 

Sure enough, his milky spunk had a much nicer flavor than the usual fare. Regardless of her finding enjoyment ‘for once’, the kunoichi dutifully swallowed every blast of seed. Her throat undulated with every load, letting only a little bit escape the tight ring of her lips.

 

As she felt Roy’s orgasm slow to a crawl, Kagero switched to cleanup. She resumed bobbing her head, letting her lascivious tongue scoop up any sperm that had stuck to his penis. She was immaculate in her task, replacing every bit of errant spunk with her saliva. Her efforts ended with his arousal completely clean of any traces of cum.

 

Mwah! she popped off his head, leaving a thick trail of spit connecting it and her lips. Her tongue swiftly claimed any remaining seed on her lips. Satisfied that her task was finished, she was ready to redress him. At least until she saw that his cock was still firm as ever.

 

Do you want more?” she slowly asked as she rose to her feet. Roy looked up past her massive tits and feverishly nodded. She crossed her arms at his consent. “Then get on the table. Now.”

 

He was taken aback by her words, but quickly saw the sense in her decision. ‘Might as well make it somewhere relatively comfortable, ’ he mused. “Should I take of my clothes?”

 

“If you wish,” she replied as she tossed her cuffs aside. Next came the yellow scarf and the sheer veil around her shoulders. The kunoichi kept her gloves in place, more out of formal habit than anything else.

 

With the frills out of the way, she propped up her calf and reached for the crotch of her pantyhoes. Her deadly fingers made short work of the tattered covers. But before she could snap off the bottom of her leotard, she paused.

 

“You’re staring again,” Kagero noted, causing her younger partner to snap out of his thoughts. His undone jacket fell from his hands to join the discarded white gloves. “Just like before, when we were walking in. I know you were watching me.”

 

“I-my apologies.” He gave a lipid reply. Not out of any lack of remorse, but simply because he was too stunned that he’d been caught. ‘Forgive me father, mother. I’ve shamed you both.’ Her curt words brought him out of his shock and self-loathing.

 

“Then stop staring and get over here,” she ordered as she brought her leg back down. Roy hastily scrambled to finish taking off the stifling long-sleeved shirt before joining her. Once she saw he was heeding her words, she turned and presented her barely-clothed rump to him. “Do you know what to do?” she asked, her tone never losing its stoicness.

 

“Y-yes,” he gulped as the noble looked at her exotic body. The way her bare shoulders taunted him from between her swaying ponytail, or the defined curves of her magnificent ass. ‘Gods, I think it might even be bigger than her usual form,’ he gulped as he recalled the scant few times he’d seen the Hoshidan kunoichi and her tight pink gi.

 

“Then do it,” Kagero said as she glanced back. Roy parted her coattails before laying his dick right on her rump and thrusting upward. ‘Gods, she’s so...warm,’ he gawked at the way his cock practically disappeared between her butt cheeks.

 

The kunoichi shuddered slightly as the heat of his loins ran through the thin material of her suit. Her lack of panties only made the touch more intimate. Her grip on the table tightened.

 

He continued to rub himself against her crack, inching slowly up until his cockhead touched the cotten tail of her suit. Roy let out a moan as he felt a light tickle each time he rubbed against the little ball. ‘I need more.’

 

The kunoichi was taken aback as she felt him grip her butt cheeks and press them together. She let out her own mewl at the extra stimulation of his surprisingly firm grip and the greater contact with his girth. “Good you’re starting to ta-ake initiative,” she praised him.

 

Roy didn’t respond, being too focused on sawing his way through the crevice of her ass. His smaller body struggled to reach over her statuesque form. In response she lowered her rear, giving him a little more room to rub his dick up her back.

 

Kagero bit her lips to keep any more moans from escaping. This was far from the first time she’d used her butt to coax out something - information, loyalty, a paltry load. But there was something almost… loving, about the younger lord’s assault on her rear. ‘I-I wonder what he’ll be like when he’s older,’ she mused.

 

Her fantasies were cut short as she felt his immediate absence. It would seem that Roy had stumbled on his clothes and nearly lost his footing. A small part of her was disappointed, but then the rational part of her mind reminded her that simply meant he had more for later. ‘Saves me from cleaning my back at least.’

 

“Table. Now,” she ordered as she hopped onto the decrepit furniture. He watched her flex her lithe calves before planting both of her feet atop the tattered cloth. He didn’t waste a moment more before scrambling up to join her, settling in place at her open legs.

 

In his eyes, Kagero was the epitome of sexual desire. Her arms raised over her head, her chest rumbling with each labored breath. It could’ve been the dim light of the torches, but Roy swore he saw a light pink on her cheeks. She didn’t say a word, but her eye told him what to do. ‘Rip it.’

 

the elastic material tore in his hand. His eyes were immediately greeted with the delightful sight of her bare, dripping pussy. He leaned down to sample such a delectable looking dew…

 

...Only for her to block his way with her thighs. One look up to her impassive face gave the answer. So instead he positioned his hips so that his throbbing dick was lined up with her folds.

 

The kunoichi was losing her patience, a feat in itself. What had started as a mere exercise in erotic enlightenment had morphed into something more. She wanted...she needed his touch. Now.

 

“St-aah!” her order was cut short as he began to push into her tight walls. ‘Hikariryu, he’s so big,’  she thought as she struggled to keep from showing her pleasure. She bit down on one of her fingers to keep herself silent.

 

Roy didn’t wait for her confirmation, and settled into a frantic pace. He was driven by instinct now, the embarrassing lectures and vivid paragraphs blurred away. His hips knew what to do, and that would be enough.

 

The kunoichi was adamant in her efforts to show no pleasure, even if her blossoming cheeks had already gave her away. But she ultimately failed as his cock brushed  gainst an oft-deprived erogenous spot. Kagero let out a small moan through her teeth, spurring him on.

 

Her ears flopped with every smacking of their hips, acting in loose tandem with her breasts. Below them, the table creaked and groaned in protest of their carnal antics. The two struggled to keep their heads above the sea of pleasure that threatened to drown them both.

 

Roy cupped her tits, pushing them further up to her collarbone. She resisted the urge to strike him for such a brazen display, the last bit of her hard-earned discipline before she succumbed to her urges. She started to push back against his thrusts.

 

“A-Ah! K-kagero, this feels…” Roy trailed off as he tried to shake the perspiration out of his hair. His words would remain unsaid as her hand came up from above her head to cover his mouth.

 

“Be silent,” she panted, her face awash with sweat. Like him, her hair was matted to her face. Her ponytail was coming undone, and her headband was now askew. Her eye was as sharp as ever, even if her mouth and brow were starting to betray her true feelings.

 

K-Kagero!” his muffled cry was the only warning she got before he slammed into her and unleashed his second load. Her hands pulled him into her bosom as her legs tightened around his waist. She let a lustful cry escape her lips as rope after rope of Elbian seed assaulted her womb. The world became a tapestry of light as her senses burned out one by one…

Kagero came to first and swiftly pulled him out of her tits. The young lord gasped as he took stale air into his screaming lungs. Below, the mixture of cum and quim dripped out of her pussy onto the already filthy tablecloth.

 

“Do you want more?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. She saw Roy’s head nod, jostling the untamed red mane atop his head. “Say the word,” she stressed, a small part of her eager to hear it.

 

“Show me how you’d do it,” he ordered with a tone more befitting his father than he. Kagero was taken aback at such a brazen decree. ‘He’s either brave...or stupid.’

 

Roy was getting restless awaiting her answer. He was about to tell her again, but found his words caught in his throat. The source was her calves tightening against his ribs. His focus was taken from the discomfort as her gloves tightened around his shoulders. He looked down to see an uncharacteristically thin smile on her face. “...Fine.”

 

She pulled herself up, using his body for leverage. The young man gasped as she forced him backwards until his ass slammed into the table. Neither one paid the groaning wood any mind as she uncoupled her legs and let his back lay flat. His cock never left her pussy, and her smile never left her face.

 

“Is that too much for you?” she asked, a slight lightness in her otherwise stoic tone. Roy’s eyes stayed wide as he attempted to process her actions. Her smile disappeared as she settle back into her cool mask.

 

“Hm?” she prodded him, poking her finger into his bare chest. His snap response was a thrust up into her stuffed vagina. She flinched at the disturbance before glaring down at him. ‘Hmph, cocky brat.’

 

She wouldn’t waste time with banter. Instead her hips immediately started to gyrate and grind against his cock. His erection returned to full force under her ministrations.

 

Once she felt him harden inside her honey trap, the kunoichi started to slam herself down on his girth. Her stoic mask hid a slightly sadistic pleasure in watching him pant and squirm beneath her.

 

Kagero’s idea of sex was far, far above Roy’s meager attempt. Her hips were a blur as she rode her younger charge for all he was worth. Any of his attempts to move were thwarted by the ferocity of her pounding pelvis.

 

‘Gods, she’s….she’s incredible!’ Roy was in awe at the way the exotic beauty bounced above him. He watched as her still-damnably concealed top wildly jiggled with every thrust. One of her rabbit ears was permanently drooped over and punitively flopped about out of sync with her intact one.

 

SNAP!

 

The table gave way as three of its aged legs snapped. Kagero merely dug her hands into the holes of the rotted wood and kept pistoning against his girth. Roy was trapped between her toned stocking-clad thighs and barely moved. The tarnished silverware clattered to the ground around them, briefly drowning out the wet sounds of slapping skin.

 

BANG!

 

Kagero grunted as the last leg gave out, sending the tabletop crashing to the ground. The impact caused her walls to clamp down on his sore dick as another orgasm rocked her body. The kunoichi fought to stay above the white wave, barely managing to keep her coherency even as her body faltered and slipped temporarily out of her control.

 

A ninja shows no emotion, not even joy.

 

Oh how she dearly wished to break that oath in favor of screaming her desires into the vast hall. She made a compromise by letting her brows tilt downward just a hair of an inch. The sight of the young man powerless beneath her made her unconsciously lick her lips. ‘Mmm, maybe just a little more,’ she decided before grabbing his cheek.

 

“You are still a bud. Less than I’d like…” she lectured him, running her nail against his cheek just enough to draw a bit of blood. Her other hand reached down to draw circles around his heaving chest. “...But good enough. I’ll finish this.” she reared down and finished her tirade in his ear.

 

“You are already done.”

 

With that, she was gone. Back to her place above him, slamming him into the collapsed table. Her hips were like weights that threatened to crush his pelvis. But rather than demoralize him like she’d hoped, her words only spurred him on further.

 

"I-I won't lose. I...I won't!" Roy hissed as he attempted to match her thrusts. The fight was horribly one-sided in the horny hare’s favor as she forced him back into the wood. But still he persisted, much to her growing ire.

 

“You...you don’t knowww when to quit,” she hissed as she slammed her palms into his collar. Her ponytail was practically undone now as each long strand of hair was stuck to her sweaty skin. From between the long disheveled  locks, the barest glint of her matching eye shined through. ‘I’m ending this, now.’

 

He winced as her nails dug into his shoulders, but never once faltered in his attempts. His efforts found fruit as one errant thrust managed to rub her sensitive clitoris. She was instantly overwhelmed as her climax ravaged her body. “Y-Y-You! I-I’M CUMMING!”

 

Roy’s darkening vision was overwhelmed with the sight of her hunched over. Her orgasmic spasms and erratic breathing lulled him even as rope after rope of his potent cum shot into her greedy womb...

He came to with a start, jerking up from his prone form. His back protested the motion, as did his somewhat sore legs. Kagero was no longer straddling him, but had instead settled at his side.

 

“You passed out,” she explained as she kept tugging on his roused loins. The Elbian processed her words as he fought off the soreness all over his body. “Shall I take care of this?” she asked as she glanced down at his firm cock.

 

He was tempted to rebuke her in favor of much-needed rest. But the sight of her sweaty, disheveled body quickly routed such a foolish thought. Something told him this was the last shot he had to offer. So he’d rather it go towards something he had wanted to do since before this sexy mess had started.

 

“Can I…” he stopped himself. He was long past the part of merely asking for things like a young child. ‘It’s time I started to act like a man.’ His temporary retainer watched as he took a deep breath. “I want to fuck your breasts.”

 

Kagero mulled his order before giving a small nod. She reluctantly withdrew from her handjob in favor of raising to her feet. She offered Roy aid in the form of her other hand, which he gladly accepted.

 

“If that’s what you want,” she said as she guided him to the chair from before. The two stepped over the discarded silverware, finally off the now-destroyed table and back onto the stone floor.

 

Her long stride put her ahead of him, giving him the delightful sight of her swaying derriere and the dripping cum from her loins. She reached the chair and turned to face him, letting him see how much of their combined juices had smeared her thighs.

 

Without being prompted, Roy sat down. Kagero was immediately kneeling in front of him, reaching up to the thin little slips that had miraculously kept her modesty intact. The battles they’d shared, the makeout then the blowjob, both rounds of hot fucking...let it not be said that her outfit didn’t serve her well. But at last, her legendary peaks were exposed to his wide eyes.

 

“Kagero….” he openly gawked at the sight of her perfect breasts. The slightly darkened color of her large nipples, the barest trace of pale skin from her tanlines. The way they sagged ever so slightly while still staying firm. ‘Gods...’

 

“Allow me to clean you first, lord Roy,” she declared before leaning down to blow on his hardening prick. He winced at the cool sensation on his sore loins. The kunoichi paid it no heed as she took his cock head between her lips.

 

She consumed his length with a steady, methodical descent. Her tongue covered as much of his shaft as it could, trusting that the opposite side would be cleaned off by her airtight lips. Her head bobbed down until she reached the base of his cock, causing the crown to briefly slip into her throat.

 

Satisfied, Kagero pulled her lips back up until she let go of his dick with a lewd, loud pop! Once again, his penis was clean of any lingering spunk and was instead coated in a fine layer of saliva.

 

Roy watched with bated breath as she leaned in to capture his prick between her cleavage. The instant sensation of warmth made his head lull back. The kunoichi allowed the ghost of a smile to pass her lips as her hands clutched her own breasts. When he glanced back at her, the stoic mask was again firmly in place.

 

Her tits squeezed against his throbbing cock as she hefted them along his girth. The added spit made it easier to rub along the length. If that wasn’t enough, she was more than willing to slobber over the top at the cost of only her dignity.

 

Kagero bit her lip as she suppressed another shudder in her spine. The throbbing warmth of his penis sent a wave of carnal heat through her winded body. Each muffled grunt from her younger charge caused her toes to curl in delight.

 

She switched her tactics, alternating her breast strokes rather than keeping them in tandem. As one of her erect nipples grazed his thigh, a sharp hiss escaped her clenched teeth. She wasn’t the only one who was affected by such a caress however.

 

Roy’s hip thrusts broke her of the almost zen state she’d found herself in. she ceased her own ministrations in favor of wrapping her arms around her chest, securing her tits in place for him to fuck. She watched as his glans peeked out from her cleavage before inspiration struck once more.

 

The kunoichi scooted closer to her charge and stuck her tongue out. Each time his shaft reached her mouth, she’d run her tongue along the slit, coaxing out more pre-cum. With each thrust, her head leaned in until his crown would actually enter her hot, wet mouth.

 

“K-Kagero, I-” he stuttered, trying to warn her. Her impassive eye took one glance down at his cock before she hollowed out her lips and held him in place. The immediate assault of her tongue on his sensitive glans was the last push he needed.

 

As she felt the first shot in her mouth, Kagero released his dick with a wet Pop. Her grip on her cleavage tightened, centering the slit on her face. Her gaze never wavered from his thrashing head. Not even when a rope of cum splashed just hairs away from her eye.

 

His ejaculating dick slipped back into the valley of her breasts, creaming the inside of her milk flesh. The kunoichi did not pursue it or attempt to wrest it back out. Instead she let out an uncharactarsitc moan of delight as she felt her bosom being drenched in his Elbian seed.

 

Roy’s spent cock slipped out of her tits, as limp as the young man it was affixed to. His body was trying to process everything that had happened. The brief sight of her smearing his cum into her breasts or licking her fingers made each attempt at lucidity a short-lived one.

 

“Rest now, Lord Roy. you have done well.”

“Are you ready to move on?” Kagero asked as they faced the now-open door. A golden light filled the dreary hall, highlighting the destroyed table. She had re-affixed what little remained of her attire, covering her breasts yet leaving her cum-spattered loins exposed. Their respective steeds patiently awaited behind them, trotting against the ground in anticipation for the next battle.

 

“One moment,” Roy urged, causing her to turn back to him. Like her, he had managed to redress himself, but with far more success in protecting his modesty. She would deal with that humiliation later. ‘So long as the mission is a success...and that my liege survives.’

 

“What is-Mmph?!” she was taken aback as he pulled her down into a kiss. Her fingers gripped the carrot, fighting all her instincts to keep from stabbing him. ‘It..it doesn’t seem as much of a challenge this time…’ she mused. It was a greater struggle to keep from leaning in of her own volition in fact.

 

The Elbian youth tasted her lips, being just the slightest bit indulgent before he got to the hard part of his plan. Kagero moaned as she felt him cup her breast, both aroused and annoyed at the brazen display. ‘Alright, now that’s just...What?!’

 

The duo were engulfed in a bright green light, causing their respective mounts to rear back. As the light faded, Kagero realized that she felt...better, somehow. That wasn’t all; her outfit was back in mostly pristine condition and her skin was clear of wounds wear, and shame. “W-what did you-Roy?!” she barely managed to catch him before he collapsed.

 

“A...A lord must take care of his retainers, right?” he smiled, struggling with every syllable. His once-immaculate attire was in tatters, exposing his heavily scraped and marred skin. Kagero was too stunned for words at his actions. She didn’t even react as his arm brushed against the underside of her cleavage.


Baka... ” she let her native tongue slip as she turned away. The kunoichi refused to face him as she led him through the glowing portal. Praying to all the gods he didn’t notice the pink blossoming on her cheeks.

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


"We will win! For I am the bosom body of justice!" Arthur charged forward, hefting his grand Emerald Axe. Before him, the Emblan swordsman stepped back in fear….

Squish!

The Nohrian paragon fell flat on his face. his axe flew out of his hands and right into the face of his hapless foe.

"Wo-oah! Banana peel, you are a slippery villain" he tutted as he pulled his face out of the mud. He attempted to wipe it off his face...and scrunched his nose in disgust. “Wait...this isn’t mud,” he groaned.

“Blàrwolf!”

Ursula struck down another hapless foe, her fingers cracking with arcane power. Her dark horse reared up as she levied her hand on the retreating cavalier. “Farewell! Blàrwolf!

The ethereal blue pack ran the Emblan down, tearing both horse and man to shreds. The assassin cackled in glee as she heard his screams. Her horse was too accustomed to the horrors she’d committed and remained placid.

“Mmm, how lucky am I to be given my favorite tome by that perfect little darling,” she cooed as she caressed the sinister looking book. Miles away in the Hall of Heroes, a certain white-robed figure felt like ice had been dumped on their spine.

“Still, I should make good on my promise and finish this.” the assassin mused. The sounds of footsteps drew her attention, and she snap ped the reins of her black steed. The horse obeyed and turned its rider towards the source. Her fingers crackled to life...

"Never fear, Arthur is here!"

Only to see that it was her ‘comrade’ in arms.

She reluctantly recalled the arcane power from her hand. He looked as disappointing as ever, a monument of failure that made her skin crawl. ‘Wait, something’s wrong here.’ her eyes narrowed. “... Why are you shirtless?”

“Ah, I landed in some horse dung and had to take it off.” he explained as he set his axe down. The sight of his admittingly cut physique didn’t phase her...at least, not for too long.

Ursula kept an impassive eye as she scanned his other, numerous imperfections. “Mmm, And the hair?” she inquired as she crossed her arms beneath her ample breasts. The Nohrian was either too virtuous, or too stupid to notice how her chest popped out.

“That came from a falling bucket. Luckily for me, it also protected my head from an arrow!” he boasted as he ran a hand through the drenched blond curls. “And before you ask, I don’t actually know what happened to the boot. I think it might’ve been pilfered by a cat.”

“Mmhmm.”

“But enough talk! There’s still a fiendish foe about. And I won’t rest until we find this rotter and-”

Blàrwolf!”

The hero’s boast died in his mouth as his wicked ally finished off the last troubadour. Above them, the sky shimmered gold, signifying their victory. From the remains of the mounted cleric, wisps of energy flowed into Ursula.

"Heh. Not bad," she chuckled as her body absorbed the residual power. Her magic felt more potent, along with her increased vitality. It was a modest gain, but a sufficient one.

Her virtuous comrade sprung back quickly, showing that disgustingly-bright smile once again. “And that’s that. Lady Justice has shown me through once more!” he cheered.

“Justice? Why would such a sham of a concept favor YOU, of all people?” the assassin scoffed as she stepped off of her horse. She stretched her arm up, wincing as she heard her shoulder pop. “Especially since luck is certainly against you.”

Arthur wasn’t deterred by her scathing words. On the contrary, he let out a hearty laugh. “Why wouldn’t it? We’re talking about the pursuit of justice and for the good of all! I’d gladly trade a few spats of misfortune in my righteous crusade!”

“Oh please; good, evil, all that nonsense. All that matters is perfection.” Ursula scoffed as she crossed her arms. The delightful bounce of her tits was once again lost on him and his moral fortitude.

“Why that’s preposterous, you see-”

‘Oh gods how long is he going to go for now??’

“-and that’s why justice will always triumph, even when you’re covered in wyvern droppings!” he proclaimed. His hands were proudly placed on his hips. A radiant smile gleaned from his clean teeth. He looked every bit the part of the dashing hero...and she couldn’t stand it.

“Fine! now grab your axe and let's go back.” Ursula relented. She’d raised a hand to her forehead to massage the migraine that had been throbbing ever since this buffon started talking. To his minute credit, he didn’t immediately burst into another monologue as he turned around to grab his weapon...

Whap!

She sighed in bliss at the sweet, sweet silence. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he went down. One smack n the back of his head with her tome and he was out for the count. “Now what to do with this lug.”

The assassin walked around Arthur’s prone body, “Hmm, I could just leave you here,” she mused. She brought her hand to her chin in contemplation. On a whim she raised her palm and gathered arcane power. “Orrr...I could just kill you and be done with it.”

She alternated between aiming for his head or his heart. Either way, a quick shot of elthunder would end the Nohrian, triangular supremacy or otherwise. She ultimately settled on his head...

...before lowering her hand with a growl. “...ugh, that would just raise too many questions,” she sighed. One of the downfalls of being ‘allied’ with Askr was that she had to follow their asinine ‘rules’ for the duration of the contract. “It would’ve been nice to have been scouted by Embla; just give me a target and they’d be content.”

Still, she had a conundrum on her hand. She needed to punish him, that was non-negotiable. But if death wasn’t an option...

“...Now THERE’S an idea.”

Arthur came to with the familiar sensation of a headache. The twittering birds suggested they were still in the village. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be in the yard of one of the houses. ‘What’d I run into this time?’ he mused as he attempted to stretch his arm.“...ugh, wha?”

“Finally up, hero?” a sultry voice called from in front of him. He sluggishly looked up to see the Blue Crow sitting on the nearby fence. Her evil smirk firmly affixed, and her arms crossed again. “How rude of you to leave a woman waiting. Naughty hero.”

“W-what?!” Arthur glanced up to see his hands had been secured to the awning rafter by...rings? His head snapped down to confirm that her peculiar belt had indeed been used. He valiantly struggled against his bonds as she casually sauntered over. “Unchain me, foul Woman!”

Ursula brought her hand up to her chin, adopting a contemplative pose. It’d be almost convincing were it not for the impish smirk on her face. “Mmmm...no. I think I’ll keep you like this.”

“I’m going to test you, hero.” Ursula explained as she wormed her way back to his front. He flinched as her barely-contained bosom glided over his chest. He could feel her erect nipples through the thin material of her dress. ‘Focus, Arthur!’

“And how would are you going to do that?”

“Simple. Your head might be filled with all these worthless platitudes and the barest knowledge of fighting. But you’re body…” her smirk never left her face as she drew down his torso and started to press down on his crotchplate. “Well, it seems to be a little less righteous.”

Arthur winced at her actions.“Unk! You think your wicked clutches will stray me?” he growled, his eyes narrowing in a manner so unbefitting such a jovial fellow. His captor merely chuckled.

“Oh no, I’m not going to do a thing. After all,” her fingers snuck behind the plate and traced the prominent bulge hidden within. “Justice always tends to rise when ‘evil’ shows its hand.”

Ursula gave his covered groin a few squeezes before she turned away. She strutted to the nearby stone fence, knowing that his gaze was locked on her hips. When she spun back to face him, she spread her legs and pulled her dress aside. It turned out the blue crow liked to go without panties...

“I’ve never really liked those worthless things,” she scoffed as he gawked at her bare, dripping pussy. The assassin didn’t try to hide her evil smile. “Besides, it makes it easy to do things like...this.”

She used her right hand for support as she reached down to her puffy lips. Her dark satin-kissed fingers drew circles around her labia, his pupils following every minute arc.

“Ooooh. You don’t know how good this feels, especially after a long battle.” she sighed before inserting her index finger into her twat. “Aaah... that’s the spot. Now if only I had something a little more... meaty then just my daintly little fingers.”

Arthur bit his lip as he watched the evil woman pleasure herself. He gave up his attempts to look aside in favor of glaring at her lascivious display. ‘Clean thoughts, chum,’ he repeated that mantra in his head, trying to ignore the growing stiffness in his drawers.

Ursula arched her back and let out a wanton moan. She increased the pace of her frigging, not caring that her juices were dripping down the wall. Without warning, her finger pulled out before being replaced by two, the middle and ring digits this time.

The Blue Crow held open her folds as she rubbed circles inside her velvet walls. Her moans had escalated as she struggled to hold herself up on the fence. Her screams were now deafening, sure to have alerted any surviving heroes or villagers to their location. “Ah! I-I’m!”

“OOF!”

The hero was laid low by her heel’s sudden impact in his groin. He was too wrapped up in pain to question how she’d managed to kick her shoe all the way over to him. For her part, Ursula laughed with labored glee as her leg withdrew. She immediately pulled her hand out of her crotch and let the other shoe drop off her foot.

She brought the glove up to her mouth, savoring his pained expressions. One by one, she used her teeth to pull up the fingers before drawing it off her arm. The discarded blue garment was dropped into her now-exposed hand as she walked back over to Arthur.

“Here, why don’t you be a gentleman and kiss my hand,” she offered as she brought the sticky garment up to his lips. His pursued mouth only amused her. Still, she knew the easiest way to get him to open up ‘Mmmm but that would be too easy...and it might damage whatever goods he has.’

He was taken aback when she squeezed his nipple, causing him to cry out in pain. The assassin swiftly stuffed her glove down his throat, causing him to taste her devilishly decadent nectar. “That’s a good boy. Why don’t you hold that for me?” Ursula cooed.

The axeman struggled to breathe through the material of her glove. Ultimately he resorted to using his nose. He begrudgingly lapped up the stains of her juices, struggling to find no enjoyment in the mollifying act.

Meanwhile, the assassin had sunk to her knees and was in the process of undoing his belt. She looked up at his struggle with that same twisted grin as she undid the buckle.

She should’ve known something was up when the garment smacked her in the chin. She didn’t even have time to blink before a loud riiiiip directed her back to his loins. What she saw was...startling.

“Of all the things…” she mouthed as she looked upon the hero’s genitals. ‘Th-this must be a farce.’ she tried to rationalize what she was looking at. But simply put, she had found the great equalizer of Arthur’s poor karma.

For a moment she wasn’t the feared Blue Crow, but just a curious woman. One who was still in her sexual prime. Despite her profession, the assassin had never resorted to using her body for her work. The few times she’d partaken in the dance of flesh had been for purely pleasure;

she never bothered to pursue more than single night flings that ended in tragic ‘accidents’. She humored them, earned her fill, and left them a charred crisp on the bed.

But the fleshy tower of Nohrian pride made her pause.

...and how much she was going to enjoy hearing his screams.

“Mmm, I suppose you do have SOME worth, hero.” she complimened him as she flicked his hardening arousal. Her digit lingered long enough to trace her nail against his mighty loins. She watched with morbid delight as it squirmed and writhed under her touch.

She pulled away, causing Arthur to sputter in protest. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll give you the ‘justice’ you so dearly want,” she taunted him as she rose and undid the clasp holding her vest around her neck. “But first... I think I’ll give you a show.”

The vest slid down as she straightened her arms and arched her back. The way her chest jiggled only spurred him to struggle more. She heard him suck air through his gag, followed by the rattling of his bonds. The assassin watched his flailing and grinned in delight.

“Now if I let you go, would you be enough of a gentleman to zip down my dress?” Ursula asked as she turned and presented the tag just below her naked shoulders. Arthur growled in response, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. “Here, let me get a little closer…”

Ursula mewled in delight as lunk’s cock press against her delicate folds. Her asscheeks bumped against his pelvis, followed by her shoulders coming to a rest between his pecs. The assassin pressed herself tightly against her victim, freely relishihing his chest against her back and his loins between her thighs.

The Blue Crow rubbed against his dick, smearing his fleshy pole with her feminine nectar. Her hand squeezed and kneaded his cockhead as her other hand reached back to grip his neck. Arthur was forced to breathe in the scent of her hair as she jerked him off. ‘Hmm?! Thorn-Apples! That devilish woman…’

“Ooh, are your really going to leave a poor lady to do it herself?” she whimpered. The assassin didn’t even try to make it sound convincing. What would be the point, when she already had him strung up for her amusement? She huffed. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

She drew herself away, giving his length one last kiss with her pussy lips. The assassin brought a hand up to her zipper and pulled it down. Arthur watched as her tight dress relaxed and fell around her hips. She happily cooed at the breeze on her bare chest “Oooh, that’s so much better.”

She looked back, giving him a side glance that screamed of forthcoming pain. “Here, why don’t you lay down,” the assassin suggested as she raised a finger to him Elthunder!”

A bolt of arcane lightning struck the rafter, breaking it in two. Arthur’s bound wrists slid down the now-askew beam and sent him plummeting onto the hard ground. “Mmmph!”

Ursula cackled in delight at his pain. She strutted towards the prone Nohrian, her chest bouncing with every step. She was no longer in subdued awe at his towering girth. In fact, she was rather eager to see what it would do...and how she could break it.

He grunted as she plopped down on his stomach. From between his clenched eyes, he gazed upon the unholy perfection of his captor. “You should count your blessings. The last good luck you’ll have is the honor of being my personal fucktoy.” she laughed.

The seductress shimmied back until she bumped her ass against his cock. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted herself over his girth. “Mmm, if you’re good, maybe I’ll keep you,” she lied.

His cockhead cleared her ass and came to a rest just beneath her dripping folds. The blue crow teased him further by rubbing his glans with her labia. Drops of feminine desire pooled in his blond pubes. Slowly, she brought her hips down, taking his dick into her hot core.

Ursula’s brazen moans filled the area. “Mmmmm.” She relished the full feeling as his dick pushed her walls aside. ‘Well good things do come to those who wait.’

“I’ll give you one thing, hero. You’re the biggest i’ve ever had,” she smiled with a foreboding glint in her eye, “I might not fry you to a crisp after all”. with that thinly veiled threat ringing his his ears, she started to piston herself against his length.

Her tome dropped out her hand as she openly moaned her approval. If dicks like this were what she could be getting, she might as well have become a ‘good’ girl on the spot. But as much as she relished his girth, it was the look in his eyes that really got her off. Contempt, humiliation, and the delightful shine of fear. “Oooooh, yeesssssss.”

Her bouncing morphed into a forceful grind. Pressing down on his pelvis with each wiggle of her hips. Her whims of torture had ebbed to mere taunting. She didn’t even mind when he started cumming right into her greedy twat.

“Ahaha! Is that really all it takes to make you squirm?” she cackled. The assassin reached over and grabbed his bound arms. Her naked hand pulled the glove out of his mouth, causing him to sputter and wheeze.

“And what do you say now, hero? No more words?” she taunted as she looked straight into his pained eyes. Her hips slowed down as all of her attention was on his defeated face. She didn’t even notice his hands clenched into fists…

Chink!

She was so shocked by the destruction of his bonds that his next thrust sent her reeling. Her back arched until she was dangerously close of slamming her head into the ground. If not for her swift palms slapping the dirt, she would’ve done so.

“Luck is against you, you wicked crow!” he roared as he gripped her hips. She was too stunned to respond, especially after he rose to his feet. The hero grunted as he pulled her along, bringing her up until she was bouncing in his arms.

Ursula’s legs instinctively wrapped around his back as her mind finally caught up to what had happened. Her spellbook had been left on the ground, kicked away by her former captive. She’d lost her advantage in the blink of an eye.

“Your attempts to sully my honor will not stand!” Arthur barked as he thrust up into her tight lair. The Blue Crow glared at him, every attempted curse instead coming out as a wanton call for more. “I will purge your wicked cravings with the mighty blade of JUSTICE!”

The assassin gritted her teeth as she attempted to stay focused. With every thrust, she could feel his load sloshing around in her womb. She attempted to strike him, only for his arms to catch her sloppy blows and wrap around them. And as soon as she unhooked her legs…

Bang!

Ursula’s breath was taken by the force of the impact. Her asscheeks where driven apart by the awning’s support. Each thrust caused the column to groan in protest. The churned mixtures of their sexual release dripped out of her folds with every slap.

“Urah! Take this!” Arthur roared as he bottomed out, releasing another short stream of cum into her pussy. The Blue Crow’s scream startled the nearby birds.

“You miserable little-aah!” her snarl morphed into a yelp as Arthur slammed her wrists together. He wrenched her restrained arms up. “You bas- umph?!

Arthur’s hand slammed against her mouth. “Silence, foul woman! Justice has not finished with you yet!” he growled. His still-hard prick resumed its desecration of her body. The assassin attempted to bite his palm, but just tasted the leather of his glove.

Ursula’s mind was trying to process this turn of events. ‘Th-this is preposterous!’ she internally screeched. She struggled in his iron grip. The only result was her tits jiggling with each act. She hated this with every fiber of her twisted being...

And yet her body was so receptive to his trespass. Her pussy was gushing as she attempted to suck in more and more of his majestic manhood. She found herself craving more of his harsh treatment. Her hips rolled with every brazen thrust.

Oooh, gods. I-I have to get away!’

Arthur slammed into her, shooting more ropes of potent Nohrian pride into her. She fought down the looming climax that would’ve left her utterly numb. Her body was sluggish and barely responded to her impulses. ‘Come on….

Whap!

“Ywouch!” The axeman dropped to his knees as he nursed his sore kneecap. Ursula slid off his cock with an unceremonious plop , landing flat on her back.

Her thoughts were harried and sporadic, her body an honest wreck of quivering nerves and barely-restrained desire. She ignored the cum spilling out of her used pussy. The assassin only knew one absolute truth, ‘I need to get my tome’.

There, off in the distance. She spotted the telltale glint of her treasured spellbook. Ursula didn’t even bother to try and get to her feet, opting instead to crawl towards her salvation. The sight of the haughty perfectionist wallowing in the dirt would’ve otherwise shamed her to the extent of suicide.

She made it only a few feet before she was wrenched away. She turned back to glare at her the man she both lusted and despised. “A-ha! Thought you could slip away, your devious witch?!” he growled.

Ursula’s eyes carried nothing but contempt, “T-That had been the plan...” she growled. Despite her deepest desires, she held her tongue before mentioning how she’d fry his ass.

“Then prepare yourself. For the iron hammer of JUSTICE!” he roared as he thrust back into her stuffed pussy. She was still miraculously tight, even after he’d been vigorously drilling her.

The assassin struggled to stay on her hands and knees as she endured his pounding. Before she could give out and fall to the dirt, the universe took some form of warped pity on her. “Uh-hup?!”

The hero had fallen backwards, taking his captive with him. They both lost thier breath as he crashed to the ground. Her back bounced off his abs as she strugled to regain her bearings.

How he’d managed to trip was beyond either one of them. She capitalized on her opportunity by reaching up to grab his neck… only to have her hand slapped away. “Ow! What kind of hero hits a lady?!” she hissed in pain.

Arthur gave a grin that shined in the afternoon light, “The Hammer of Justice is unisex!” he boasted as he forced her arm down. His imposing hands wrapped under her knees, securing his grip on her. Her hands puntitlvy grapsed at the dirt, unable to reach his arms to even scratch him.

Ursula struggled against the uncomfortable position. ”Would you aaaat le-EEP!” the hero had ignored her pleas and had started slamming back into her twat. He spread her legs even further apart, increasing the amount of pressure her comparatively fragile body was under.

The assassin's neck was already sore from being pinned. Her swinging tits smacked against her cheeks. Her ass bounced against his lap as he pistoned into her used twat. Her legs had given up on trying to break free. Now they just hung limply, the only movement coming from her curling toes.

She was openly panting now, desperately trying to breathe through the stifling shell of lust and sin that had entombed her body. Sweat covered her body, dripping off her supple flesh or being shaken off by is forcible thrusts. Her back rubbed against his sculpted chest. Each thrust scraped his cum out of her pussy, causing it to pool beneath them.

“Y-you’re going to brea-break me!” she whimpered in pain and want. But her appeal was firmly rejected. She was powerless to do anything but wallow and scream as her she succumbed to the ultimate surrender of control- Her climax

Her mind shattered as her orgasm ravaged her body. She went limp in his firm hold. Her agape mouth dribbled onto her bouncing tits, pooling into the gap between her cleavage. She tried to focus on something. On anything.

She wanted to die

‘I need to cum.’

She wanted to die.

I need cock.

She wanted to…

I want more.’

...

‘...I want him .’

Arthur panted as he struggled to fend off his last load for as long as possible. His arms flexed under her knees as he tightened his grip on her neck. He felt that familiar tightening in his balls. “T-this is it!”

“URRRRAGGGHH!”

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

The axeman’s arms relaxed against her. Ursula’s head fell back into his chest. Her legs splayed out to the sides. The assassins body spasmed and shivered as she took his last load deep into her hot core.

The Nohrian cock slipped out of her, it’s iron form now lost. A puddle of spunk formed just above his scrotum as more and more of his cum sputtured out. He felt her roll off his body and collapse at his side.

One final smile graced his lips. “N-now you’ve felt...the might of..J-J-Juuuuuuus…” With that lipid declaration, Arthur finally fell. Succumbing to his body’s limitations.

With the hero’s fall, the assassin rose. She struggled to her prop herself up, fueled by a niow-simmering rage. The Blue Crow fought down the contents of her stomach, opting instead to adress herself.

Her outfit was in shambles. Her skin was littered in sweat. Her hair was frayed and perfectly complimented her unhinged eyes. “You...y-you...BASTARD!” Ursula screeched as she lunged at the prone paragon.

Spurt!

His unconscious ejaculation glazed her body, coating her hair, face, and chest. Some of his cum landed in her mouth, causing her to sputter and cough in protest. The rest dripped down onto her sore breasts. That last attack wound up being the breaking point for the assassin.

Ursula fell on her back, simply too stunned to do anything but look at the blooming dusk...

Chapter Text


Niles flew up with a heavy gasp. His hands flew across every inch of his body, looking for the wounds he knew had to be there. He felt nothing but the same coarse skin he was used to. His fingers were still working, his neck was...well it was sealed shut.

The archer wracked his brain for the source of his plight. He remembered waking up that morning, having a quick meal, teasing that haughty pink headed cleric about her ‘noble blood’, and then set out on…

A mission. One where he must’ve died.

“Not again…”

“And that’s what happened?”

Anna put down the report before looking at the assembled duo. Niles laid back in his chair. Lissa just fidgited and squirmed. The archer glanced to the young cleric with his good eye.

“Y-yes commander. I couldn't reach him in time.” Lissa whimpered as she clutched her staff tighter. It was clear she really didn’t want to be the one to give him the bad news. And yet who better than the one who watched him die?

The thief mulled over her words, trying to find any sense of deception or error in her testimony. Seeing none, he had to relent that she was being entirely truthful. So Niles did the only thing he could do in a situation like this.

“Heh, well that explains why my hand hurt this morning.” he shrugged, eliciting shock from the two women in the room. “And here I thought It was just another night alo-”

“That’s enough, Niles!” Anna barked. She discarded her glasses in favor of massaging her migraine. ‘What I wouldn’t give for some wine. Or some Alfonse. Or some Alfonse with wine...’ the commander snapped out of her lustful fancies and donned her best stoic gaze. “Thank you Lissa. You’re dismissed.”

The princess leapt to her feet and walked towards the exit. Before she opened the double doors, she spared a glance back to the archer. “Niles, I-”

“Now now, there’ll be time for that later my dear. You heard the commander, chop chop.” he shooed her away. Her apprehension morphed to shock at his cavalier dismissal. He didn’t bother to watch her depart, only hearing the subdued huff before the doors swung shut.

“So...what’s the next mission?”

Anna shook her head in exasperation. “You’re suspended from active duty until you’re at least rank fifteen,” she ordered. The outlaw’s clouding face was sure to be one of the highlights of her day.

“And how am I to improve if I can’t go on missions?” Niles casually asked, belaying his clear displeasure at this proclamation.

The commander’s answer was curt, “Training Tower.”

He scoffed at her answer, “What’s the fun in that?”

Anna was already dreading this part, but rose to his taunt anyway. “That’s not the point, Niles. You’ve consistently refused any form of extra training, even during times when you’re ordered to.”

“My liege is not here, so I am not really beholden to any orders,” Niles wistfully declared. Oh sure he’d follow the means of their contract, but that didn’t mean he was going to be particularly happy to do so. “Besides, I already know how to perform. Even if its a little challenging under pressure.”

The commander smacked her hands on the table, anger now clearly on her face. “Why you insufferable-” she cut herself off and gave a deep sigh. Niles smirked, ‘How sad, I was so looking forward to seeing her mad.’

“That’s all fine and good, but we’ve been over this. You need to EARN your merit again.” she stressed, not bothering to go into specifics. ‘It’d be on deaf ears anyway ’ Anna mused as she glared holes at the insubordinate archer. “Alright, so let’s try a different approach; what would make you WANT to do anything?”

"Simple, I want a challenge."

Niles was thoroughly disappointed by this ‘compromise’

He’d been promised a challenge, only to find that he’d be going against some pegasus knights and wyvern riders. With a team of three fellow archers no less. Was it any wonder that their foes had gone down so easily?



The thief turned his attention to his temporary allies. The dandy Virion was of no interest, neither was the striking lad Leon. No, he found himself fixated on the self-professed ‘sniper in the dark’: - Clarisse

From one glance, he could tell three things about her. One: she had some form of nobility in her blood, despite being a supposed orphan. Two: she was just as deft with a bow as the rest of them despite being the youngest. Which of course led to three: she was no mere child bereaved of parents. ‘Curiouser and curiouser…’

“Watch it!”

Niles didn’t have time to react before the lance had already cut through him. Pain coursed through every inch of his body. “Hrnk!”

Before the attacker could follow up, as a shot from behind felled the dragon flier. The Nohrian forced himself to his feet, coughing out a little blood as he took stock of his injury. ‘It’s bad...but I should still be okay.

“What, never dealt with reinforcements before?” Leon snarked as he nocked another arrow. Niles turned his good eye upward to behold the sight of more foes coming up over the horizon. From the sounds behind him, Clarisse and Virion had already engaged the ones trying to flank them.

“Actually no…” he admitted, tightening the grip on his bow. From between his blood-soaked teeth, a strained grimace broke out on his face. His eye danced with a sparkling light, sinister in its inception and intent. “This could be rather exciting.”

The sky shimmered gold as Niles took a breath of fresh air. Something in those twinkling lights made each gulp feel more invigorating. His muscles felt a little more taut, his skin tougher, and his eye keener. “I deserve better.”

His companions seemed to be more satisfied with their growth, although he didn't really care what the duke’s prattle was on about. Instead his eye was once again drawn to the girl of their little ‘party’. She seemed rather distant, and her face was considerably darkened.

Her mood seemed to sour even further as he walked over to her, “Not happy with your results?” he inquired. Clarisse simply huffed and turned away. “Now now, I’m sure the next round will be more satisfying.”

His words finally caused her to lash back, “My bow’s not gonna do a damn thing against knights!”. Niles was admittingly taken aback by her fury, but moreso was confused at what she meant. She looked at his curious expression for a few moments before the realization hit, “...You didn’t know the enchantment changes each day, did you?”

Niles shrugged, “It...must not have grabbed my attention”. He could tell his honesty wasn’t going to earn any favor. So instead he turned to the self-professed ‘archest of archers’, “You, Cravat. When does this training scenario cycle back?”

“I believe five days from now, my friend.” Virion explained. The way his silky smooth voice drew out each syllable made it difficult for any of the trio to avoid retching. Still, Niles would take a personal victory that he didn’t stoop to Leon’s audible gag and simply moved on.

“So five days...sounds like a date then,” he finished as he walked off the grounds.

“Wait, what?!”

The next few days passed slowly. Much too sluggishly for the Nohrian thief. And yet without the consent to go out on missions, Niles simply opted to be patient. Train a little here, tease some people there, it was all in good fun really. And so here he was, with a fresh new duo to train alongside. ‘How strange to be working alongside a Hoshidan’ he mused as he looked at the flighty Setsuna and the spunky Rebecca.

He was standing on the enchanted grounds, waiting for his latest mark. The bumpkin and the Hoshidan that were already there didn’t interest him. ‘Although, I could find some pleasure in the little mouse’s reactions,’ he mused as he gave said girl a glance. ‘Mmm, perhaps not. Mustn’t forget to pace myself after all.’

Clarisse wasn’t the only ‘target’ he’d honed in on. She was merely the only one that would be here today. No Lissa to pick at for him. ‘A shame; there’s something almost... gratifying, about watching Buttons squirm.’

His thoughts on the delicate cleric were washed away as he heard heeled boots clacking on the bridge. There she was, looking no different than the last time he’d seen her.

“Oh ho, you’re early. Our date doesn’t start for another few minutes.”

His voice made her flinch. Now thoroughly wrested from her innermost thoughts, the sniper turned to face the nuisance in front of her. “This isn’t a date,” she stressed.

Niles brushed off her dismissal, “And yet here you are, girlie. Dolled up and eager to start”. He watched her balk at his nickname for her, and trying to cobble together a response. ‘Not the most creative of nicknames, but the point always was to get under their skin,’ he mused.

Clarisse opened and closed her mouth, desperately trying to find the words she wanted. “I-I just need to hone my skills. N-nothing more.”

The thief barely resisted breaking down at her reaction. “Of course, of course,” he mused. Not surprisingly, she didn’t seem to be placated by his dismissal.” Hey, no need to be huffy, we’re all friends here. Right?” he turned to the other girls.

The two were in solidarity with Clarisse. Rebecca was openly glowering at him, while Setsuna seemed spaced out. ‘How ironic that the Hoshidan is the one that seems the most receptive…’ “Oh would you all lighten up? Not only do we have a Hoshidan and a Nohrian working together, but the power trio of a hunter, a thief...and an assassin.”

The sight of her shocked face was far more priceless than any bauble he’d ever pilfered. Hearing the hunter’s gasp was just gravy, especially since he’d given up on trying to rile the other retainer.

Clarisse was wrestling between fear, anger, and humiliation. ‘How did he managed to find out?! .“H-how did you-?”

Niles cut her off with a harsh laugh, “Oh there’s a LOT about me that you’d like to know. Perhaps after we’re done here we can find a nice quiet place to...chat.”

Rebecca shook off her reaction to Clarisse’s secret and tsked at the lecherous thief, “Ugh, can you believe that guy, Setsuna?” when her comrade didn’t respond, she turned to face her. Setsuna wasn’t paying any attention to the proceedings and was instead focused off on the horizon. “...Setsuna?”

“Wha-? Oh sorry, I was admiring those fliers over there,” she drawled.

“Oh crap! Here they come!”

Clarisse scrambled past him, bow already in hand and ready. For his part the thief was far more relaxed as he got into position and nocked an arrow. “Ahhh, time to play.”

“How the devil were YOU able to kill the most?!”

Clarisse might’ve been the only one to air her thoughts, but Rebecca and Niles shared her opinion. The Hoshidan retainer looked up from one of the corpses and put her finger on her chin. Her face spoke of far deeper contemplation then her words would’ve entailed.

“I just remembered what Azama said. Something about life being fleeting…” Setsuna drawled as she started walking away.

The thief watched her go before turning back to the huntress. “I trust you’ll help her out of that ditch?”

Rebecca scoffed at his lack of faith, “She’s not gonna walk into tha-Oh, dammit Setsuna!”

Niles watched her scramble after the Hoshidan, leaving him alone with Clarisse. He showed no fear or trepidation in walking towards the assassin. She didn’t even seem to realize he was behind her until he could hear her muttering. “Better….”

“Mmm, but not good enough, huh?” She jumped at his words. The assassin sucked in the budding curse as she turned to see he was oddly pensive. “Round three then?”

“...Fine.”

“About time, I was starting to get antsy.”

Clarisse attempted to ignore the chatty thief, determined to not let his words rile her this time. It had been hard enough avoiding him for ANOTHER five days. Instead she looked around for their other comrades, and found that the two were alone. “What, no other archers?”

Niles shrugged, “I guess we’ve built up a certain repute. No takers this time.”

He said no more and allowed her to ready herself in peace. He didn’t even bother to glance at her somewhat erratic movements. ‘Seems I’m not the only one distracted.’

He’d struck upon something in his investigations. But what he’d found...disturbed him. ‘If it’s actually true that is. That lunatic could’ve been trying to pull one over on me.’

He’d monitor her to see if his hunch was correct. And for the first time in a while, Niles honestly would’ve preferred to be wrong.

“No, anything but this!”

The thief ignored her outburst and focused on his last target. The wyvern went down with one well-placed shot in its neck. Niles turned away from the drowning swordswoman with a sigh “What is it n-

“Don't look at me!”

He rolled his eye at her outburst. ‘For an assassin, she’s far too emotional.’

“Oh don’t tell me; another bum hand?”

Clarisse was too busy fuming over her minuscule growths to pay him any mind. Her childish reactions were rapidly whittling away his goodwill. He placed his bow on his back before walking over to her, “Sorry to tell you girlie, but you don’t always get what you want.”

“Think I don’t know that? It’s just so FRUSTRATING!” she screamed. The thief watched with disdain as she gripped her steel bow to the point of bending it. Before he could chastise her, she’d turned around and snapped at him, “And STOP with the fucking mind games you prick!”

Niles slowed his approach at her sudden lash. Her accusations didn’t phase him, but he did cross his arms and fired back, “Who, me?”

“Oh don’t act like you’re a fucking angel! I know your game you asshole.”

“Mmm, do you now?”

Clarisse sneered at his cavalier attitude, “Yeah, think you’re the only one that does any digging around here?”. This revelation elicited another raised brow, but no words. “Imagine my surprise when I found out what a pathetic retainer you are!”

If the assassin was her usual self, she would’ve seen the smallest turn of his pursed mouth. But she kept rambling, and dug herself deeper. “The utter failure of a thief that begged for his life and now can barely even kill a lousy pegasus knight!“

‘Whoever her source is, they’re utter shit.’

She’d hit a little too close to home, but nowhere near close to actually leave more than a love bite. Still, a sloppy attack was still an attack. ‘So were going for the vitals then...okay.’

“Tell me something girlie; what’s it like to lose your parents?”

“Wha-?”

“Up bup! I’m not done yet.” he growled, his earlier mirth now completely absent. She’d managed to touch a nerve, and he was going to return that pain tenfold.

Clarisse was taken aback by the steel in the thief’s voice. In all her time with Niles, she’d never heard him sound quite so...so cold. One glance at that slitted eye made her want to drop everything and run.

He watched her squirm, letting loose a humorless chortle, “So you’ve been dealt a bum hand. Boo-hoo. I’d think that an orphan would know what that’s like by now,” the thief sneered, running his hand through his hair.

The assassin tried to muster something, anything in response. Her grip on her bow tightened until she could feel it dig into her skin. “I...you…”

He didn’t even look in her direction, but kept on. “How nice must it have been to live under a roof in your tender years. Much less having someone that actually bothered to give you a bow and teach you how to not poke your eyes out.

“Then again, it’s not like that was necessarily a kindness if this is how you repay tha-”

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT LADY EREMIYA!”

Nile’s killing stroke was cut off as Clarisse lashed out. He was honestly taken aback by her sudden fury. ‘From what I gathered, Eremiya wasn’t exactly a nurturing type’. his musings were cut short as she stormed up to him and literally spat in his face.

“She took us in when we had nothing! She found use in us when no one else would! I owe her EVERYTHING!” the assassin snarled as she tried to goad him back. The thief reluctantly gave a single step, but held firm for the rest of her ravings, “And if I can’t do what she raised me to do, what use am I to her?!”

Those last words clinched it. A lot of cryptic words and jumbled testimony suddenly came together. For the first time Niles felt something for the girl that wasn’t sadistic glee or frustration.He felt...pity.

But more distressingly, he could see someone else in that assassin, a young scoundrel trying to survive the streets of an unforgiving kingdom. Ever pining for the kindness of a stranger willing to foster a street-rat. ‘Could I have turned out the same way without Lord Leo’s mercy?’

Niles didn’t want to consider the answer.

He let the rest of her ravings go untested, too stewed in his own musings to really pay attention. The insults against him passed unmolested. He slipped back into the conversation as she wrapped up. “But how could a craven like you ever hope to understand that?”

“Once again, you’ll find you’re wrong...I know all too well what that feels like.” he finally spoke, giving a sardonic chuckle to cap off.

“Heh, it’s funny really. I guess I was just lucky that my ‘family’ were mere thieves and dastards,” he admitted. Clarisse listened to his melancholy recollection, paying attention to the way he spat out the word ‘family’. “In hindsight, being reared as a burglar is far preferable to being molded as a tool.”

“I-” Niles cut her off.

“Don’t. We’ve both made proper fools of ourselves tonight. Perhaps we should call it quits here.” he mused.

“No.”

Clarisse’s refusal caught him by surprise, “Pardon?”

“I said no, we’re not done here.” she insisted. Niles watched as she pulled out a light blue rune. “One more round. To the last.”

The archer analyzed the glowing stone carefully. It was for the weakest form of the training ritual, meant more for new arrivals to get some experience with overwhelming numbers.

They wouldn’t benefit from such a paltry offering... but that was no longer the intent. This was now a matter of pride. “Hmph, very well.”

The darkness made for a new challenge, one that almost compensated for their honed skill after multiple attempts. Lethargy was overtaken as the first shots flew true, replacing exhaustion with spikes of adrenaline.

The two stayed close, covering each other when a careless shot would’ve left them vulnerable. Their backs were covered by the wall, giving them the fleeting opportunity to strike down a flier attempting to rear around the structure.

No words passed between them, no gestures or tells dictated their actions. Their every move was poetry, as Virion would oft say. A macabre rhyme littered with the screams of their targets.

Niles stepped back as Clarisse fired across him, striking a looming wyvern down. The thief gave a grunt of affirmation as his own arrow pierced the pegasus’ neck. When she spun around to deal with their attempted flankers, he couldn’t help but notice her derriere. ‘O-ho, pink and frills. I never would’ve guessed.’

The orphan could tell he was staring.. She was thankful it was so dark out, it meant he couldn’t make out the blooming tint on her face. So she retaliated...by widening her stance

The thief could only spare a single glance at her further exposure before he was compelled back into the fray. He could barely make out the silhouette of the dragon flier ready to attack Clarisse. Still, his arrow flew straight and true, causing the lumbering beast to crash into the nearby tree.

They were both panting now, gasping for breath as sweat fell off their bodies in droves. The strain of their extended competition was starting to rear its ugly head. There was just one pegasus left. But the darkness made it difficult to discern where their winged foe was.

Rustle rustle...

Woosh! Woosh!

Their arrows flew at the same pulse-pounding moment. But neither one was looking at the now-dead flier, but at each other. She felt herself shiver under the weight of his sole eye. He felt his breath catch at the sight of her disheveled face

Niles leaned down.

Clarisse was taken aback by his frankness, but quickly found herself rearing into his hungry lips. Their bout intensified as she threw her bow aside. They pressed closer, her smaller body melting into him.

Their hands roamed across the other’s back, blindly groping for the telltale clasps. In tandem, they snapped off their partner’s respective breastplates. Their chests drew back to let the loose garments drop, all without interrupting their duel of the tongues.

From there their synchronization failed. Niles undid her pauldron as Clarisse in kind reached for the clasp of his cape. Her jacket was ripped open and pushed aside, revealing the matching bra to her underwear. His vest was simply torn off his body, exposing a toned chest with minute scratches and nicks.

She broke away, gasping for breath. A trail of saliva still bridged between their lips, at least until the thief licked it away. The sight of that lascivious tongue made her already weak knees nearly buckle. “I-I suppose you won this time,” she relented as she brazenly stared at his toned physique.

Her sudden tepidness just made him at the more eager. “Indeed, and I’ll be taking my prize now,” he declared. Immediately, Niles was already back on her, firmly latching his teeth onto her neck.

“Aah! N-not so ro-oooooh...” she whimpered. The sadist wilfully ignored her in favor of suckling more of her flesh. She furtively tried to pull him away, but the only result was getting her fingers tangled in his hair.

Clarisse moaned and melwed at every devious touch. Her frayed mind attempted to process all these bizarre new form of pleasure. ‘H-how is he so good at...at all this?!’ she struggled to understand. From somewhere in the lusty haze, she felt something prod against leg. “I-Is, that a knife?”

Niles chuckled, amused by her naivete. “Oh no, my dear. That’s an indicator of how excited I am to do this to you.” he whispered in her ear. His tongue snaked into her ear canal for good measure.

He watched her squirm in his arms, taking all forms of twisted pride in his assaults. The thief rubbed his cock against her thighs, letting his own moan of delight as he felt the contrast of her skin and her stockings.

“Aah! The assassin arched her chest closer into his, rubbing her frilly bra against his pecs. The Nohrian groaned in response, delighting at the feeling of his now-erect nipples.

Niles’ hand dipped beneath her skirt, tracing the now-wet lining of her panties. Clarisse whimpered as she felt his fingers slip past the lining and feather her dripping folds. She outright whined as she felt him withdraw.

The thief brought his soaked digits up his lips and stuck one finger in his mouth. ‘Tangy, but with a hint of sweetness...how amusing’. The way she was staring at his antics wasn’t lost on him.

“You want a taste?” he asked as his eye followed her gaze. The assassin nodded, not willing to trust her tongue. “Then follow my lead.”

He guided her down to the zipper of his pants. The assassin took hold of the tab and pulled it down. Satisfied with her progress, he slipped his middle finger into her mouth. The thief humored her sampling before egging her on, “Don’t be shy, pull it out.”

He said nothing else, opting instead to use his digits to tease her tongue. Her usually keen gripped fumbled and groped under this pressure. She found his ‘excitement’ somewhere in his pants and secured an alarmingly crushing grip on it. “Urk! A little more gentle, girlie.”

Clarisse obeyed his requests and gingerly took his penis out. He rewarded her with the tangy pleasure of his third finger, letting her tongue enjoy the last helping of her own quim juice. ‘A shame, I was hoping to enjoy that one myself.’

Her hand slowly pumped the length of his shaft. She didn’t need any prompting, just following what felt right. Despite his best efforts, the thief let his appreciation be known each time her nail grazed his dick.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, we’ve got more to do.” Niles whispered. He pulled his fingers out of her mouth, leaving a trail of dribble connecting her lips to his digits. Reluctantly, she let her own catch go, but not before giving him one last firm stroke from the base to his tip.

He dropped to the ground, letting his body stretch out in the grass. Her attempts to follow him were impeded with an outstretched hand and a twirling finger. “Other way.”

Clarisse awkwardly nodded and turned around, presenting her panty-clad crotch to him. The thief’s deft fingers reached into her skirt and traced circles around her covered mound. Suppressing shivers, her less experienced digits barely managed to grab his cock

Niles was meticulous yet teasing, as he always was. He tortured her with each prod or stroke, applying only the most minute degree of pressure into his finger tips. He even toyed with the elastic of her crotch lining, causing it to snap against her sensitive pussy. “H-hey!”

“Try to keep up.” the thief smirked. That damnable grin that had haunted her for nearly two weeks caused something inside her to snap. ‘I’ll show you what I can do.’

She secured her hold on his dick and immediately started pumping. His attempts to throw her off were a constant challenge. But slowly but surely, Clarisse managed to brace herself against his attack on her pussy. At least that was the case, until she felt something wet push her panties against her asshole.

“Eeep!” she cried, accidentally choking her partner’s junk. Her actions had the consequence of pre-cum squirting out of his urethra. Some of that discharge landed on her chin, causing her to flinch at the hot sticky attack. She ignored the cum smear as she leaned down to engulf his head.

‘Two can play at that game.’

Their private war raged on, filling the small clearing with the lascivious sounds of slurps and moans. Anytime she made it to his level, Niles simply applied more pressure or mixed things up. It seemed impossible to pull ahead… until a golden opportunity presented itself to her.

Clarisse had been steadily improving her oral technique, sucking in more and more of his girth with every passing moment. She could make it halfway down his shaft before having to pull back up. But this time she had accidentally grazed her teeth against his skin, causing the thief to hiss.

“L-less teeth.”

The assassin smelled blood in the water and pulled back, releasing his head with a lewd pop .

“What, too much?” she asked with a haughty smirk.

Niles didn’t take her uppity tone well, “You don’t want to try that game against me, girlie,” he growled. In response, she brought the crown up to her lips and started to suck it. Her defiant squirming only riled him further. ‘Oh-ho, so this is how you want to play…’

Clarisse was ignorant to her looming peril. Instead, she used her newfound bravado to manhandle his man-handle. Her firm touch straddled the line between pleasure and pain. She still didn’t really know what to do, but she knew for now the advantage was on her side.

The thief bit his lips as he felt her tug on his penis. She’d often change up the usual pumping action with the occasional twist, or a few squeezes. While the pain was doing its job in pleasuring him, the assassin simply had no finesse in the arts of pleasing a man. ‘I’ll give her points for experimentation though.’

The assassin attempted to take in more of his dick, fighting her reflexes. Her head bobbed down, barely passing he halfway point before she had to cough it out. “N-Not so tough now, are you? Not when Ive got you by the balls.”

His defiant laughter knocked the smirk off her face. He’d been sporting enough to let her try for long enough. ‘It’s time to show her how outclassed she is, assassin or no.’

“Your words are provocative.” he admitted. “But tell me...” He let the words trail off, knowing it would goad her.

Niles reached into her skirt and hooked into the sides of her panties. Rather than yank them down, he opted to pull both sides out.

Snap

“Yowch! Why yo-ow!”Clarisse was cut short as he smacked her rear. Niles watched with twisted amusement at how her copious derriere jiggled from the impact.

Smack

“-can you back them up with real action?”

With that final challenge, Niles dropped the pleasantries and went on the offensive. He pulled her panties aside and dove straight into her dripping twat. “Aaah!”

He assassin attempted to resume her ministrations. Alas, the furor she’d awakened in him made it impossible to do more than hold on. Her hips buckled and squirmed, trailing the line between pulling away or slamming down on his greedy lips.

‘Gotta...gotta stay focused.’ the assassin grit her teeth. She felt him cover every inch of her velvet trap with is spit, slowly dragging her towards the breaking point. And once his fingers squeezed down on her puffy clit, it was all over.

“I can’t- I’m!”

The thief slurped down her juices, delighting in the way her tang caressed his tongue. The loss of her own ministrations was regrettable, but hardly one that was going to deter him. “That was tasty. Are you ready for the main course?”

Clarisse shook off her carnal bliss in time to hear his inquiry. She caught herself from nodding too fast as the shame of her poor display crashed down on her. “But I failed. Y-you didn’t, um…”

The thief took her fealty in good humor, “Plenty of time, my dear. Up, up”. Each punctuation was met with a light slap on her thigh, prompting her to do as he said. Almost reluctantly, she dismounted his prone form and pulled herself up. The aftershocks of her orgasm made her lightheaded, but she managed to stay upright.

Beside her, Niles had raised himself to his knee. He gave his tired back a much-needed pop and gazed over to his disheveled partner. “Hands against the wall, and just wait.”

The assassin immediately complied, positioning herself as prompted. She could feel his eye appraising her, admiring her taut body as a farmer does its prized steer. When she heard him finish dusting off his pants, her fingers curled in anticipation.

Niles took his time sauntering over to her. His boots squished against the wet grass, apathetic to the pool of blood he’d stepped in; still bodies of beast and man were of no interest to him. Only the fair flesh of his mark deserved his attention.

She flinched as his palms stroked her sides. The same hands that had joined her in carnage now treated her like porcelain. And all she wanted was to be smashed against this rock.

The thief pulled her hips down, spearing her outer lips. Clarisse choked back a sob as she felt her walls being pushed aside. “Aah!”

Niles let a hiss escape his lips. She was so damn tight he had to fight the urge to nut then and there. ‘Damn, I was hoping taking it slow would cool me off,’ he mused. One look at her convulsing body made it clear how foolish that endeavor was.

‘...Ah well.’

He started slow, quickly building the momentum of his thrusts. Her nails scratched against the wall as she struggled to match his pace. What little she’d bothered to gleam about seduction took a backseat to her instincts.

Wet slapping echoed across the small island. The smell of cooling cadavers briefly registered in their noses before the musky scent of sin took over. Niles had the added joy of smelling her disheveled locks.

The assassin broke her string of moans as he shifted focus. His hands massaged her sides, eliciting purrs from the usually sadistic woman. “Oooh gods...N-Niles.”

Her mannerisms briefly reminded him of a certain rosette dancer. The brief visual of her scantily-clad body and timid squeaks made his firm cock even stiffer. Clarisse was ignorant of his wandering mind, only enjoying the side-effects as he bumped and scraped against her tight walls.

“I ca-can’t-I’m!”

He was ready for this. Ready for her to fall apart in his arms as she endured another wave of white-hot ecstasy. Ready for her tight passage to clamp down on his dick...

“Oh!”

...he wasn’t ready for this.

Niles released rope after rope of Nohrian shame into the assassin. His grip on her skin was tight enough to leave marks. She didn’t care anymore. Not when the infinite stretches of orgasmic bliss had swallowed her whole.

Clarisse came back to the feeling of his teeth nibbling on her nape. Her sore muscles barely registered as more than an annoyance. She turned to face him, doing her best to ignore the protests of her sore neck. She didn’t expect him to hike up her leg and slam back into her messy core.

“Not yet, I want to play more,” he growled in her ear. She felt him claw up her back to the strap of her bra. His other hand dipped down between her legs to tickle the swollen nub above her soppy folds.

The assassin hissed at his trespasses. She bit back the curse on her tongue, “H-how?”

“Don’t worry you’re pretty little head, girlie.” he laughed as his hand stroked her bare back. His fingers withdrew from her clit in favor of securing his grip on her leg. “Just enjoy the ride.”

Clarisse barely grabbed the wall again as she started to bounce on his lap. Her nails scratched against the rough cracks, rubbing her finger pads raw. Her breasts swayed freely now, bra crumpled at her feet.

A chill had settled in the night air, causing gooseflesh to pepper across their sweaty flesh. The assassin’s breath was visible with every labored pant. Her post-climax fits had turned into punitive shivers.

“C-Closer.”

Niles blinked, not certain if he heard her or not. “Hmm, what was that?” he cooed, leaning in to hear her better.

Clarisse was desperate now. Not just for the prospect of warmth, but just fo his touch. He was her lifeline; her tether that she’d squeeze until his neck popped off. “Please, closer!”

The thief mulled her request, letting her squirm and write against him. He had the audacity to slow his thrusts, causing her to desperately writhe for more. She was in for a quite shock when he rammed straight into her, pressing her against the wall. The assassin felt a shiver down her spine as she felt him breathing into her ear. “Mmm…alright.”

Whatever else he said was lost on her. Clarisse’s body was utterly at his twisted mercy, and both of them were keenly aware of that fact. “N-Niles!”

Said Nohrian had taken her ear between his teeth. She winced as he bit down, applying just enough force to leave a mark, but not enough to break skin. However, he was far less kind in pinching her thigh.

The assassin hissed in pain, “Y-you ba-aaaaaaaa,” her curse was cut short as he started to massage her sensitive skin. The thief let go of her now-red lobe and breathed into her ear canal.

“Such a foul mouth.” he growled. As punishment he pressed down on her nape, forcing her further into the harsh stone. He didn’t budge, even as she started to struggle.

Clarisse struggled, finding each pant to be harder and harder as he pressed down on her neck. The brick that was pushing into her throat was causing her windpipe to tighten. She stopped focusing on the incredible feeling of him pounding her in favor of trying to stay conscious. I-I can’t breathe…’

Niles doubled his pace, sensing her dwindling resolve. He’d given up on trying to push her in favor of his own selfish gratification. But he wasn’t the only one enjoying this, if the way her pussy was clamping down was any indicator.

“Ga-haaaaaaaaa!

“…”

Niles grit his teeth as her cunt choked his dick. He was forced to stop his thrusts, lest he join her prematurely. As utterly delectable as Clarisse’s taut body was, he still just wasn’t satisfied. But sadly, he would be ending the night alongside her. “D-damn!”

She convulsed in orgasmic bliss as volley after volley of cum assaulted her womb. She didn’t flinch as he slowly brought her down, dragging her cheek against the wall. The assassin merely let herself fall into the deep, blissful slumber.

The thief wasn’t happy with his ejaculation. ‘I wanted to play more…’ Niles bitterly mused. One look at her oddly-serene face as she slumbered pushed his grievances aside. “Ugh, i’ll bother her later,” he huffed.

She gave a small mewl in approval as he wrapped her tighter in his arms. He felt her weary body lull to a tranquil stillness before he ultimately joined her...

“Satisfied?”

Anna finished looking over his records, noting the remarkable growths he'd exhibited since they’d last talked. “Very. You’ve accumulated quite a bit of skill points to spend...or at least you had .”

. “I couldn’t help but indulge,” Niles shrugged as he ran a finger over his fresh new killer bow.

He didn’t bother to look ashamed, especially not in front of Anna of all people. “So I take it I’m back in the rotation then?”

“Starting immediately. That’ll be all,” The commander felt a small swell of pride as she dismissed him. ‘Despite his rocky start, Niles might just turn out to be an integral part of this Order after all...'

She watched him walk towards her door and was ready to look back down at a minor theft report when she caught a peculiar sight. A very intimate looking one as a matter of fact. More specifically, a strip of pink frills wrapped around his belt. “Wha-?!”

“Just a spoil of war.” he called behind her.

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


Robin mulled over her words. “Are you sure this is wise, Commander?”

Anna looked away from the clear skies outside before responding. “Trust me, Robin, I wish I could send more than just you two. But we’re running short on teams as is,” she insisted. Her tone was professional, yet a tinge of solemn regret was clear to the other two inhabitants of her office.

Robin counseled her orders, ultimately placing his trust in the commander’s decision. “I’ll trust your judgment then,” he declared, raising from his chair to accept the missive of his upcoming job.

“Good, because I’m counting on you to make sure this gets done,” Anna explained as she slapped the letter in his hands. As she expected, his eyes narrowed a bit at her last-minute trickery. Still, Robin was duty-bound and secured his grip on the dispatch.

“I accept,” he declared, a bit louder and bolder than his usual tone. The shifting of a chair behind him served as a reminder that he wouldn’t be the only one undertaking this potentially dangerous quest. That there was in fact another, more recent recruit that was far above his station. “That is, if you have no objections, princess?”

Said royal turned her gaze to him, her purple eyes mulling over all the information she’d been provided. Her armored cape was affixed to the back of her chair, allowing an unburdened gaze of the heiress of House Friege.

Lilac hair pooled behind her, reaching past her seated derriere. Her rich purple dress accentuated each curve of her body, as well as her sizeable bust, all but threatening to pop out from its plunging neckline with every step. A thundering clack rang out as her heel tapped the floor.

The Goddess of Thunder: Ishtar

“I am...unfamiliar with this world, so I will defer to your judgment,” she said. With that decree, she offered her fleeting fidelity unto Robin and his tactical prowess. In gratitude, the amnesiac offered her a nod and a grin. One that was matched by her own thin smile.

Anna was simply happy that the matter was resolved swiftly and civilly. She aided Ishtar’s ascent and shook both their hands. “Very good. You both depart in one hour for the port. Dismissed.”

“How do you know Reinhardt?”

Those were not the first words Robin expected to share with Ishtar after they’d cast off. He’d come into her quarters to place all the documentation they had on their mission rather than leave it with his bunk in the hull. The tactician gently placed down the case full of maps before turning to answer her.

“He’s been a great boon since he was summoned, helping many of us when we first come to the Order, and holding his own on the battlefield,” Robin explained. The princess nodded, satisfied by his answer. But her companion wasn’t done, “He also entrusted me with this once he was granted his Dire Thunder,” the tactician explained as he held up a very familiar tome.

That little tidbit threw Ishtar for a loop. “You use Thoron?” she inquired, trying to keep her face impassive. If the tactician noticed anything amiss, he didn’t bother to pursue it.

“Quite frequently back in Ylisse. Next to my Levin Sword, I’d dare say it's my preferred weapon. In fact, I’d never even heard of Blàrraven until I arrived in Askr,” Robin admitted as he looked down at his ‘usual’ spell, as granted by the Order. ”I don’t know why I was assigned it, since I did always prefer Thoron anyway.”

Ishtar was too preoccupied mulling over the ramifications of him wielding Thoron. Next to her cherished Mjölnir, Thoron was a treasure of House Friege, albeit one that was granted to its most sterling of servants. Reinhardt having it was understandable, but if the Tactician was to be believed, he had history with that arcane might. She looked at Robin.

‘Could he be?’

“Are you...are you descended from the House of Friege?”

It must’ve come as a shock for her to ask that, but it would explain far too much. His pale hair, affinity for thunder magic. ‘Perhaps he’s from a fringe branch that was cast away following the end of the war?’ she mused. Her thoughts were so clouded that she nearly missed his cavalier reply.

Robin shrugged, not really understanding the significance of her inquiry, “I wouldn’t know. It’s possible,” he admitted. The thought hadn’t really crossed his mind, especially knowing that there were multiple worlds in addition to the many, many branches of history and timelines that Askr drew from.

The princess pondered his words, leaving her quite vulnerable to the sudden clanging of the ship’s bell. The tactican was already on his feet and ready to head out the door. “I suppose we’ll need to speculate later. For now let’s go see the captain about our strategy here,” he explained.

It was supposed to be simple, he’d step around her before attempting to put on his cloak. The ship jolting to the side made that strategy infeasible. Ishtar lost her balance, careening to the side for the inevitable impact…

Robin acted quickly, reaching out to grab her before she was out of range. He managed to grab her arm in time, and his other swung around to stop her fall. Not thinking further, he pulled her back into his chest...not realizing he was now groping the princess of the House Friege.

“?!”

The princess’ nostrils were filled with the scent of his cloak. It had a worn odor, but not an unpleasant one. The kind that brought to mind forests and dew, but also traces of ink and wax.

In kind, The tactician’s nose was graced with the tresses of Firege’s heiress. A wondrous assortment of flowers danced under his nostrils.underneath he caught smaller odors, brimstone...and death.

The two stood there, frozen and at the mercy of the rocking deck. Neither one made a move to disengage, only to adjust to their unstable grounds. The reason why, be it fear of reprisal or a tepid longing, would be for the fates to decide.

The second bell rang out, shattering their private world. Like lightning, Robin flew away from her, as if he’d been repelled by a sudden magnetic detraction. Ishtar quickly caught her footing once more, and turned back to confront him. Their faces were mirror masks -inflamed cheeks matched by eyes of shame, fear, mortification...and buried deep, disappointment.

“Princess, I-”

“N-no no, it’s alright. The ship caught us both off-guard,” she insisted. It couldn’t have been a more obvious excuse if she’d tried. She didn’t give him time to respond, opting instead to brush by and throw open the door before calling back, “L-let’s just head to the galley.”

His cheeks were still red, but the tactician ultimately followed her.

“...do you think i’m a fool?” Ishtar huffed. Beside her, the tactician had finished chewing his piece of toast and was waiting for the crunchy bread to go down his throat. Around them, the crew were in full swing, maintaining their course ahead into the shining blue morning with some sort of shanty on their lips.

“I remember the day, when my journey began...”

“Hey, I swear it’s true!” Robin insisted. Their little debacle the night before had been thankfully forgotten, and now it was just a matter of trying to settle in together...at least temporarily. Yet while he’d gotten the princess to agree to that idea, she was clearly not impressed by his yet-to-be strategy back home. “You tell me who’d be crazy enough to light their own ships on fire,” he countered.

She bit her lip, trying to rationalize her follow up. “One I’d understand, but half of them?” she could still scarcely believe this. ‘I have to admit, it does seem like the most logical course of action...but still!’

“They were all half-laden anyway, so it wasn’t that big a loss,” he admitted. A part of him agreed with her, in that it seemed a little TOO outlandish to really consider. ‘But hey, it was in the Archives, and as ecclectric as those are, they’ve always shown a possible truth.’ His attempts to elaborate or further his regaling were impeded by her upturned hand.

“Wait.”

Ishtar looked around the deck, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. Somehow her decree had echoed over the salty tune, compelling all of the deckhands to silence as they joined her in searching. It all looked so placid, so orderly and calm, so...

“...When did it get so dark?”

The storm was upon them before they could even blink.

One moment the skies were gray; the next they had been consumed in darkness. Howling winds assaulted the crew’s ears, followed by the scathing bursts of lightning. While their Akrian comrades scrambled to batten down the hatches, the two Heroes stood on the deck, ready.

“This must be one of the fringes,” Robin mused. His fingers danced upon the familiar edges of Thoron, ready to call upon its awesome might. Ishtar’s personal tome was also at the ready, though she held it lower.

The princess nodded at his proclamation before uttering her own. “Indeed. Let us deal with this and move on,” she resolved, her voice growing louder to address the rest of their crew. The furor that ensued affirmed that she’d made the right call. “What are your orders, Robin?” she asked.

The tactician mused before inspiration struck. He turned to the captain and his trio of sailors. “Captain, have us circle the storm’s epicenter. Princess Ishtar and I will look for an opening to disrupt the arcane shell. Sound good?”

The captain gave his approval, ordering their armed passengers to fall in line behind the Heroes and a skeleton crew to work the masts and wheel. With the rest of the deckhands now safely out of the way, that left them alone to do their work.

From the bow Robin scanned the epicenter, taking note of how lightning seemed to branch out from its eerie blue core. It wasn’t quite in line with the usual fare of magical hierarchy, but between his knowledge and Ishtar’s raw talent, it wouldn’t really matter.

“I told you lads, it’s her! the Goddess of Thunder herself.”

“Pull the other one! The same one that has that spell Mjö...Mjö--”

“Mjokblir?”

“Mjölnir, you fools.”

The tactician ignored the hushed ramblings of his contingency in favor of finding the other tells of their immobile ‘foe’.

‘The seas are circling it, not quite fast enough to move our ship, but enough to create a clear current. There’s six tendrils of wind that are sticking out of the arcane matrix. But how would it counter-’

“What?!”

Streams of wind lashed out at the ship, causing it to rock in the tumultuous waters. The bigger concern was what was left behind. “Troops, fall back to defend the hold!”

Ishtar uttered an oath as she grasped her bleeding arm. This new trick had caught her by surprise and she’d paid a blood toll in kind. She turned towards her foes with a snarl. “Leave, now.”

Her command went unheeded by the constructs. Faceless, featureless. They looked all too similar to the countless armies of Mùspell or Embla despite being mere wisps of cursed wind. The weapons they carried were a very real threat however, if the gash was any factor. “Tch, fine. Then you’ll die here!”

“Allow me!”

Ishtar blinked as a volley of arrows pierced the faux-axemen’s bodies. She turned back to address her now-arrived squad. Two archers, a lance fighter, and a cleric. The peppy healer stepped up to Ishtar and used her staff, healing the damage the princess had suffered.

“Princess, we’ll handle the apparitions while you deal with the storm itself,” the lance fighter proclaimed. Ishtar weighed their chances. Two archers vs half a dozen fliers. She granted their request with a nod. “Very well. You have my gratitude,” Ishtar exclaimed before rushing to the bow.

The apparitions had closed in on their respective squads and had left the Heroes be. That left her with an unmolested chance against the storm itself. Robin was locked in focus on the eye, his hands clutching Thoron in anticipation.

“What a mockery of magic.” Ishtar growled. Her fingers crackled with arcane power, intent to obliterate this sham of a storm from the skies. She knew Mjölnir would be sufficient, and yet having more magic backing her up could only help in its destruction. “I have an opening! Are you ready, Robin?!” she cried over the deafening winds.

...

“Robin?”

RETURN TO ME...

He didn’t hear her, not anymore. The sounds of groaning wood, howling wind, and the swell of the sea were similarly lost. Robin was detached from the world, a man displaced from the struggles and plights of his comrades. His gaze was locked, high into the skies

“Robin!”

COME...

From between the formless clouds came a shadow, one of a massive coiling beast. Wings that clawed at the heavens. A body that stretched over the horizon. Horns that would gouge the great towering tree of Askr down to its roots. In its presence Robin was truly, and utterly alone.

“ROBIN!”

WE ARE ONE…

Alone with six sinister red eyes leering down on him.

AND THE SAME.. .

...

“Mjölnir!”

“Robin.”

He snapped out of his funk at her curt hail. “Princess!” he balked. He hadn’t heard her approach him, nor even realized how late it had gotten. He’d simply lost track of how much time had passed since the end of their encounter. The ship was once more underway, cutting through course seas and a clear night sky.

Ishtar sighed at his outburst before responding, “I told you, just Ishtar is fine,” she stressed as she crossed her arms. Her pauldrons leaned in, framing her body and highlighting how...thin she was.

Robin’s shoulders slumped, “Right, sorry,” he said, inching over to give her room to stand beside him. His comrade accepted the silent invitation, settling up next to the man. “Just a little on edge I guess,” he admitted.

“About that,” the princess levied her gaze on him, subjecting him to the heavy burden of a noble’s scorn. “You froze in the middle of that fight. Why?”

He knew that look, it was the same one that he’d seen Chrom levy against a Shepherd that wasn’t giving their all, or had failed in some way. It wasn’t a look of rage or fury, just disappointment...and somehow that was all the worse.

So he did the only thing he could in the face of such a dishonor, and he told her the truth. “I saw something, in the clouds. Something that I’d dearly wish I hadn’t,” Robin explained as he looked out at the setting sun.

“What?” she leaned in, wanting to know.

“Grima.”

The simple word caused the hairs on her nape to perk up. Ishtar might’ve only recently arrived in Askr, but she’d already learned about the source of dread for a good many of her fellow Heroes. The way they spoke of him reminded her eerily of the dark god Loptous...and with that the tragedy of her beloved Julius.

“You’ve heard about it by now, right?”

The princess could merely shrug, “Only bits and pieces. It’s been called the Heroslayer, since none of the groups that go against it have come back alive,” she recanted. Such a revelation seemed to have an effect on her companion, if the way he sardonically chortled could factor.

“Heh, might as well add that epithet then,” Robin mused. He was up and away from the railing before he elaborated for her. “The wings of despair. The breath of ruin. The Fell dragon! And now the slayer of heroes.” Robin counted them down.

Ishtar took his seemingly cavalier antics poorly. “You seem oddly interested in this monster…” she frowned. For some reason her words seemed to amuse him, much to her growing ire. Lips pursed, arms crossed, and more and more of her established goodwill for him burned away.

The tactician didn’t leave her hanging for long, and finally turned to address her directly. Much like his sardonic chuckle, the smile on his face was wry and lacking in any mirth. “Simple reason, you’re looking at him.”

The silence that followed his admission was heavy enough to reach the seabed. Robin quickly realized just how bad that sounded and attempted to rectify his damnation. “Well, one of two of him..me. Gods it’s a mess,” he sighed before slumping down.

Ishtar looked at the man, feeling her impulse to fry him shrivel and die. She’d only seen Robin as a confident master of battle, albeit one that seemed to be bemused or perturbed by the circumstances of the Order. This was the first time he looked so...so vulnerable.

So she recalled the seenseations of crackling power from her fingers in favor of laying her palm on his burdened shoulder. His weary eyes locked with her impassive amethyst pools, finding the badly-hidden concern licking at the edges. “...How...”

Robin looked down, hiding his eyes from hers before he answered, “A cult called the Grimleal. Apparently I was sired as the prime candidate to serve as Grima’s host. Something about the blood I guess,” he shrugged.

Ishtar’s eyes widened at his reveal. ‘Oh gods,’ she thought. In the brief time she’d been here in Askr, the princess had already paid a visit to the archives. There she had learned some disturbing revelations about her betrothed and the circumstances of his sudden cruelty. ‘Is...he’s the same way?’

“Are you alright, Ishtar?”

His concern snapped her out of her thoughts. Even in the depths of his funk, the tactician couldn’t help but try to reach out to his comrade. It made her question so much more. “Y-yes, I’m fine. Continue.”

Robin didn’t really believe her, but obeyed nonetheless. “There’s not much more past that. If it weren’t for my mother, I would’ve succumbed to the Grimleal’s influence and been groomed to be the host for their apocalyptic god. I owe her so much,” he wistfully smiled.

‘Gods, there it is again!’ she lamented. Before her betrothed’s turn, he had been the same way with Queen Deirdre and his beloved little sister. Even when they were together, he couldn’t help but sing the praises of his family, in such a way that she felt jealousy for such a happy home. “Wh-Where is she now?”

The tactician's smile fell, “I don’t know. The earliest memory I truly have is waking up in the fields of south Ylisse. Anything before then is lost,” he lamented. His comrade said nothing, but her hand squeezed his shoulder in empathy for his loss. Her kindness brought his smile back as he continued, “I’ve read many of the accounts, but she still eludes me. Along with my memories.”

“Is that not for the best?” Ishtar blurted out, instantly regretting her untempered tongue, but too far along to stop. “I-imagine if she wasn’t the saint you want to think of her as? What if she had darker intentions behind taking you away?” she stressed, recalling her less than pleasant memories of her own mother.

His silence pressed down on her, making it sluggish to keep going. “O-or what if she was what you thought, but your last memory was watching her being struck down? W-would memories like that really be worth keeping?”

“Yes.”

Robin’s curt reply threw her for a loop. He didn’t sound angry, or saddened by her words. He sounded...at peace. “They’re a part of me, even if they’re not a part of who I am now.” he explained as he got to his feet. Ishtar said nothing as he bumped her pauldrons aside.

“Anyway, I need to make a note of what’s happened today. Thank you for your counsel, Lady Ishtar. Good night,” he called before leaving her alone on the deck, alone to wrestle with her own tormented storm...

The next day had passed without event, just another long period of uninterrupted sailing. No other storms of natural or arcane inception deterred them, and the winds stayed at their backs. By the next dawn however, it became all too clear that they were near their target. A quick meal had passed amongst the crew, followed by all hands being front and center on the bow to witness the objective of their mission.

The great expanse of darkness stretched far over the horizon, more than easily dwarfing even the largest of shipping frigates. A quick glance confirmed that it was indeed of magical origin.

Robin had traded his copy of Thoron for the Blàrraven tome he’d been saddled with. It would be more useful against any apparitions that were sure to strike them, especially those that wielded bows or daggers. But such tactics weren’t the source of his furrowed brow. “It looks like the Tempest…” he mused.

Ishtar nodded beside him, recalling the tales she’d been told of just before her summoning. It made the apparitions make a lot more sense now...and also confirmed just how dangerous this seemingly runaway spell really was.

Robin turned to the captain and his crew. “Captain, take us straight into the storm. The sooner we can get in range, the faster we can kill it. Understand?”

“Aye lad, just don’t make me regret it,” the surly sea dog nodded before turning to dish out his own orders.

Satisfied, the Tactician turned to their assembled forces. “All of you, treat this as you would the last time. Expect resistance, but stick to your roles. Ishtar will take the helm this time, and I will assist with the defense of the aft,” he ordered. There would be no room for questions or protest, only obedience.

Satisfied, the groups broke off to their respective roles. Ishtar watched him leave and called to him one last time. “Robin!”

He turned to face her, awaiting her newest counsel. “Whatever you see...it’s not real. It might hurt you, but it’s not the real deal. And it’s not who YOU are. Understand?”

He gave her a resolute nod, and then she was alone. Alone to face the first onslaught that crashed down around her. With a cold face, the princess brought up her crackling hand...

“Mjölnir!”

The first one was obliterated before it could even truly form. Ishtar was far from done, quickly turning around and repeating the same incantation to the axe warrior behind her. Her spell arced wide, causing searing damage to the railing of the bow. ‘I’ll need to be more careful, this isn’t like on the stern’ she grimly mused. Her momentary distraction cost her her pauldrons as a ghostly sword smashed against them. “Damn you!”

Ishtar ripped off the clasp, letting the now-destroyed armor and cape clatter to the deck. An attempted second strike only ended with a blast of thunder magic in its featureless face. She ignored her bleeding bicep in favor of levying a final blast at the apparition of a thief.

The princess panted, clutching her wounded arm and smearing her glove with blood. Other than that cheap shot, she’d suffered no damage. The rain pelting down on her was of no consequence, nor was the cold wind that struck her body. Not when her goal was so close at hand...

Ishtar

The call of her name made her freeze. She turned to the source, only to find that she was still alone on the bow. No more apparitions had come forth, and none of her comrades had joined her. Besides, none of them sounded even remotely like...like him .

Why do you fight against me, my darling?

It came from her right side now. But again, there was nothing there. Nothing but the howling winds and the pelting rain. But she now knew whose mournful voice it was...

Why did you leave me, my love?

She wanted to scream out, to protest his misjudgment. ‘I didn’t want to leave you!’ , the words echoed in her ravaged mind. Words that simply wouldn’t pass her lips. The most she could muster was a single, timid, “No…”

It’s him isn’t it?

The voice echoed around her, trading its sardonic tone for one of scorn and vitriol.

It’s that meddlesome Reinhardt again, ISN’T IT?!

“No! I-I...It’s not like that, Julius!” She cried. Her grip on her tome had tightened as she pulled it close to her chest. Her head frantically swung every which way. She stepped back, hoping to find comfort in the solid plank wall of her quarters. But instead she felt...cold. Ishtar leapt back, turning to face what she swore was another lowly apparition. She was only half-right.

She recognized him, that same regal attire, those same piercing red eyes; that mark on his forehead, and even the twisted book he clutched like an extension of his body: it was her dearly betrothed. “J-Julius…”

The ghostly visage smiled, one that she could almost think was kindly. It was no different than any of the ones he’d offered her before, right? But the words that spewed from his lips were so...so cold and ruthless. So very unlike the warm-hearted man that she’d fallen in love and fallen in war for.

“Why have you turned your back on me, Ishtar?” he growled, his voice losing its omnipresent airiness. “I gave you an empire, the world, as a dowry. And what did you do?”

She knew all too well what he referred to. It had been her choice to leave the castle and confront the liberation army. It was her decree that cosigned her own death. She started to speak, “Julius I-” only for him to cut her off

“You left me!”

“I DIED for you!” she screamed, her desperation cutting over the hellish storm. But ‘Julius’ was having none of it.

“You didn’t stay in the castle where I needed you most!” he protested, clearly hysterical now. The sight of her darling so enraged...she wished it was the first time she’d seen him in such a way.

Ishtar turned away, no longer able to look him in the eyes. “I-I had to. T-they killed-”

“I could’ve done it alone, my love,” he growled once again cutting her off. “I would have granted your family the peace and vengeance you so dearly wanted for them. I could’ve ended that pathetic army and returned to you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Y-you’re not real. You’re not him,” she stuttered, trying to banish this mockery from her mind. There was simply no way this could really be her love. ‘This isn’t him, this can’t be him. He was never this..he couldn’t have been this cruel...could he?’

As if sensing her doubts, the apparition pressed on, “And here you are; consorting with these...vermin,” he spat “Tell me, is that wretched boy amongst your ranks? What of Heim’s spawn, or even that dastard Sigurd?”

The way he spat on the names of his own mother and sister made her already distressed mind practically shatter. She winced when ‘Julius’ literally flew right into her face. He was so close now that she could see the madness in those eyes, the twisted darkness that corrupted his once pure pools.

“What would your family think, consorting with filth like THIS?” he snarled before doing something that he’d never dare to do before.

Smack!

Her jaw screamed at the impact. Even if it was a hand made of wind, it still left a prominent mark. The apparition grabbed her shoulders and screamed, “What do you say to this?!”

Never once did it notice the way her hand crackled to life...

Robin winced as he grabbed the railing. The act had caused his gash to open up anew, dripping blood onto his cloak’s sleeve. He didn’t pay it any mind, only focused on trying to reach the bow in the brief moment of respite that had been offered.

The tell-tale crackle of her magic had ceased several minutes ago. Whatever misgivings he’d had of her, the tactician knew that she was strong enough to handle a few imitation soldiers. So that just left the storm itself to grapple with.

“THERE’S NOTHING MORE TO BE SAID!”

Robin ducked to the side as a blast of raw lightning obliterated the space where his head was just at. He gave a single glance back to confirm that no further damage had been done before pressing on. He found the bow with clear signs of struggle and the dispersing wisps of wind. And then he saw...her.

The ancient book crackled and howled before her. Page after page of arcane knowledge blurred by, buffeted by the fierce winds. Though Robin couldn’t hope to see it, he could tell that each word on every page of her tome was ablaze, awaiting her call. ‘ No, not her call,’ the tactician shook his head clear of such a miniscule concept. ‘Her decree.’

Ishtar said nothing, saw nothing . There was no ship to her, nor was there the mockery of the Scion of Darkness. The fact that Hero, crew, and even apparitions gave pause before her was of no consequence to her. She was beyond that, beyond them. She was the inheritor of Thrud’s storm.

The Goddess of Thunder.

“MJÖLNIR'S WRATH!”

The evening breeze sent a shiver down her back. She futitively groped her shoulders, lamenting the loss of her warm cape. And yet the easiest solution of retreating below deck carried no allure. Not when the crew were too busy noisily feasting and celebrating their survival. All thanks to the duo of heroes...thanks to her.

Ishtar looked out over the railing, watching the choppy waters that tossed their crippled ship about. The mast was simply too far gone to be of any use, meaning they were adrift for the night. Thankfully, their food stocks were plenty and had been sheltered from the harsh weather. Not to mention the fact that Commander Anna had promised to send a search party after four days out to sea.

It wouldn’t be long now. Soon she would be back at the Hall, ready to train and start her next task. Back to try and make amends for what she’d done back in Jugdral, if only for her selfish piece of mind. The princess was too deep in her thoughts to hear him walk up to her.

Ishtar perked up when she felt something drape across her shoulders, the harsh smell of salt, brine...and the comforting aroma of leather and paper. “Robin…”

The tactician finished placing his cloak on her, securing its place against her bare arms, “You looked cold,” he explained as he stepped up to meet her. She looked at him for a few moments before rewarding his selfless act with a genuine smile.

Here on the deck, their stations and positions no longer mattered. She wasn’t a princess, and he wasn’t her superior. They were simply Ishtar and Robin, two heroes that had endured a rather harrowing trial. They could let their barriers down and open the emotional gates.

“Thank you.” It was simple, but spoken with warmth and kindness. Her fingers pulled the worn garb closer, allowing her to smell more of his unique scents. But she always came back to the aroma’s of his ledger, a constant in the cluttered storm.

The two remained silent, watching the rising moon on the horizon. The skies were mostly clear, allowing the stars to shine through. It was as if there wasn’t a cataclysmic storm a few hours before.

Robin was the first to break the silence, “You should really head down there, the chef’s whipped up something with that shark. I don’t know if we’re gonna have enough for the journey back,” he laughed. It was a much nicer, more relaxing tone than the bitter one she’d heard the night before. The kind that made her smile even as she shook her head.

“I’m not hungry. But thanks,” Ishtar said. Her mirth was quickly discarded however, as a dour mask settled upon her face. “You were scared.”

Robin blinked at her abrupt words. One look at her made it clear what part she was addressing, and when she was talking about. He hadn’t seen any vestige of Grima this time. And while the sights of his comrades in that state was...alarming, it hadn’t phased him nearly as much. No, this time his fear had been directed at one thing alone, the person he was standing next to.

“Yes...but also amazed,” he admitted. She raised a brow at this unexpected reply, but bid him to continue. “That tempest could’ve wiped us all out. It was going to wipe us all out. But you, you handled it like it was nothing!”

Ishtar merely coughed, hoping he wouldn’t notice the pink on her cheeks. “I--”


“Hang on, let me finish,” he insisted. Although she was quite tired of being cut off today, she’d humor him just this once. “Ishtar, when you were summoned, I...I delved into the public account of Jugdral.”

That got her attention, as she wasn’t even aware that there were public records of the various worlds and realms. Robin simply gave her a friendly smile before he resumed, “Perks of supervising the archive, I have a lot of downtime between missions and training. But anyway, I couldn’t see much outside of general fluff and pomp. It called you the Goddess of Thunder...and I dismissed that epithet.”

He sighed, clearly regretful of his admission but pressed on, “I underestimated you, not because of your lineage, and certainly not because of what I initially saw of your ability. I know what history tends to do; make deities out of the victors and demons out of the losers.”

She listened to his words, finding a macabre form of sense in them. ‘Is that what Jugdral thought of me after the end? Was I to be remembered as nothing more than the lover of the devil? Does Robin actually know what I did?’ she thought, dearly hoping the last part wasn’t true.

“But I was wrong. So, so wrong,” the tactician had gone on, oblivious to her mental quandary. “You really are everything that was written about you, and more…” he trailed off, finding himself captivated by her wide, amethyst eyes. The way her now burning cheeks accentuated them was...captivating.

Ishtar squirmed under his gaze, but not for the reasons she thought she’d want. Instead of being rebuked at his trespass, she found herself wanting more. Her body craved more of his touch. “Robin…” she whispered

“Do you want me to stop, princess?” he asked, his warm breath tickling her juicy lips. They were at a threshold now, one that there would be no coming back from. She tried so hard to conjure up any reasons not to, even just a memory of the man she loved.

Nothing came to mind.

“No...and call me Ishtar,” she ordered before leaning in to capture his lips.

It was a hungry kiss, one more focused on dominance than passion. She settled into his chest, relishing the touch of his cloak against her body. Their tongues dueled each other, intent to reach the other one’s mouth and claim it in dominion. His slightly shorter stature meant she had to lean back to reach him, a facet that neither cared to comment on or lament.

The princess reached back and stroked his arm, relishing the thinly defined muscles beneath his sleeve. In kind, he felt the faint curvature of her ass from between his cloak’s heavy material. He attempted to dry hump her, a feat that was made possible by the long stiff tent in his pants.

Ishtar broke away first, gasping for breath she so desperately needed “P-pull it out,” she ordered. As he obeyed her, she took the time to roll up the back of his cloak and present her tightly compressed, yet still-covered rear to him. He accepted her invitation gladly, and while she hadn’t seen it directly, the fact his cockhead stuck out from under her mound convinced her she’d made the right choice. ‘This time at least,’ she mused.

Robin slid his prick between her legs, eliciting mutual groans from both of them. She shivered as his cock brushed the supple flesh of her thighs. Her already-stirred core was dripping at the lewd contact. Her attempts to mute herself were rendered unnecessary as he reared over and captured her lips once again.

He was so...so similar to Julius. They both treated her like something divine, a trait that didn’t really go far beyond her confidence in battle. For her, it was always enough to be in his arms, rather than humor the embarrassment that her lover’s work would wrought. But in Robin’s hands it felt...different. Okay. Right.

He broke their kiss, leaving a thin trail of spit between them. His hips grinded against her, autonomous from the changes performed above. She felt him brush her ponytail aside, exposing her delicate neck to his sudden attack.

“A-ah!” she yelped.

Robin ignored her in favor of scraping and suckling his way down to her collar. His tongue hit the thin material of her choker, giving him pause on how to proceed. Ever crafty, he bit down on the black strip and pulled, sending sparks of ecstasy through her body.

Her lover’s touch had been hot; brimming with the warmth and heat that could turn her to euphoric ashes. Robin’s caress however were simply electrifying. She could feel her nerves jolt as he brushed against her. The hairs of her nape stood on end under his onslaught, much as they did when she was casting magic. ‘W-what is this feeling? I still love Julius!’ she declared, feeling so resolute even as she squirmed in another man’s touch. I...I-I still love him…’

‘...right?’

“Are you cold?”

The tactician's concern snapped her out of her thoughts. His hand had paused from playing with the jewelry around her waist. She hadn’t realized how...effective, his ministrations had been. Robin had wound up taking her constant squirming for her being affected by the climate. ‘Well he isn’t really wrong,’ she thought.

“Y-yes,” she whispered. Her usually commanding voice sounded so timid, so vulnerable. If he were at all a lesser man, Robin might’ve toyed with the notion that he was responsible for her state, or even dared to exploit her. “Take me down,” she ordered.

Robin guided them backwards, feeling his ass land on the groaning planks. The princess laid down on him, pressing her back to his chest and her taut ass against his stiff desire. The ferocity of their kiss had left them respectively breathless. Their eyes were locked for a private eternity.

Ishtar rose, much to his reluctance. She didn’t go very far, only high enough to loom above him on her hands and knees before turning over. It was an admittingly lopsided maneuver, but to his worshipping eyes it could only be the divine providence of a goddess. Only once she’d settle did she finally undo her white belt, leaving it hanging around her waist.

Robin watched, not even trying to discern Ishtar’s strategy. She was now facing him, leered over as a beast does its cornered prey. Seeing she had his attention, she gave a rather impish grin before locking her gaze on his firm dick. Her ponytail swept down, blocking his view.

The tactician felt something... wet land on his cock. Four more strikes hit his dick, noticeable but far from painful. The princess looked back at him, shoving her hair back behind her and displaying his now-wet penis. He glanced up to see the thin trail of spit dripping from her lips. “Wouldn’t want you to get burned, would we?” she cooed before wiping her mouth.

With his eyes still on her, Ishtar pulled the front of her dress aside, exposing her white panties. Robin’s budding inquiry died as he watched her lean down and squeeze her legs around his dick. He moaned, once again felt those lovely thighs against his cock. Her saliva worked as a lubricant, causing less friction between their skin contact.

The two resumed their grinding, trading words for meager mewls. Her now-wet legs slid against his arousal, cushioning his sensitive dick just below her pelvis. Her pendent dangled and scraped against his collar. He felt the rough leather of his cloak against his crown, smearing precum all over it. His mind was too far gone to harbor contempt for such a desecration of his clothes.

Occasionally she’d grind her hips back, causing her clothed mound to rub against his groin. Each time sent a shudder up her spine, causing her toes to curl in her heels. ‘Thurd’s blood, is this what I’ve been missing?’ she mused, having never really been one to indulge in much foreplay. That would be changing from now on.

Robin’s hands grasped her sides, keeping her steady on top of him. She humored his trespassing hands as they caressed her hips. His electrifying touch bore a contented moan to escape her lips. In kind, her thighs rocked against his pelvis, tousling his cock and coaxing his own groan of appreciation.

That could’ve been the status quo, giving and receiving in kind until one of them got antsy enough to take the plunge. But Ishtar was from House Friege - she wasn’t one to back down, and had no intention of doing so now.

Her idle hands found purchase on his chest, and she pushed herself up. His cock slid down her thighs, finding resistance against the jewelry on her leg. Undeterred, she kept squeezing and pulling herself up. Her acts took Robin’s dick into the rougher texture of her stockings, and finally bringing it to rest between her knees.

With Ishtar’s repositioning, the tactician found himself privileged with two holy gifts. The first was the silk of her stockings now squeezing his cock. The other was her bountiful bosom bouncing before his very eyes. He dared to look up, staring into her amethyst pools and pursed, enticing lips. “Touch me.”

He obeyed her decree, reaching up to cup her clothed breasts. The princess melted under his assault. The tactician’s hands were meticulous, squeezing her tits yet never making a move to pull them out. When she suddenly felt his hands on her bare skin, she couldn’t help but squirm.

If Ishtar’s then-slick skin wasn’t enough (and gods know Robin would never consider that), he now had to contend with her stocking-clad knees. His dick had mostly dried by this point, meaning that he had to grapple with the friction of her soft, supple covers. In his eyes, the discomfort was a worthy cost.

Her calves flexed, causing his dick to feel her muscles pull tight. Robin had already been worked up by her meticulous thigh work, so her knees had very little work to do in driving him to the edge. Sure enough, only a few more curls had him clutching her boobs and groaning, “Ishtar I’m-I’m cumming!”

The princess squeaked as she felt him erupt on her legs. Her squirming aimed his ejaculating dick up, causing his wads to land on her bare thighs. A few aggressive shots managed to strike the inside of his cloak and her curved, dressed ass. She shuddered at the feeling of his sticky discharge squished between her clothes. It was filthy, vile, disgusting…

Oh gods, I want more.’

Robin gently pushed her back, laying her head against his sweaty shirt. Ishtar forsook noble indignation and relished the lull of his heartbeat. Neither one paid much attention to the sticky cum smearing their legs. He felt her rock back and forth, gently rubbing her clothed breasts on his covered chest.

His erection regained its strength under her warm, erotic embrace. Feeling his dick poke against her thigh caused her to perk up. The tactician had the decency to feel abashed at his brazen assault on her body. “Ishtar-”

Her finger pressed down on his lips, “Don’t,” she ordered, a husky growl matched by the glint in her eyes. She gave his cock a few rubs with her knee, intent to keep him hard. The reason became apparent as she stood up, her heels making it slightly difficult. The princess quickly turned back to face him, showcasing her sweaty body hidden in his cloak.

Ishtar reached down and hooked the sides of her underwear. With some struggle, she slipped her panties down, catching them on her heels. A few kicks later had the stained white garments off to the side and away from their interest. Satisfied, she walked past him with a noticeable sway, her heels clacking on the wood with every step.

The princess came to a stop in front of one of the crates that had been lashed to the deck. She let his cloak fall off her shoulders, exposing her spunk-covered stockings and covered back. Lifting the tail of her dress, Robin was granted the sight of her large ass. But more so than that, he was honored to see her gushing, shaved pussy. She gulped before giving her next order, “I...I don’t want excuses, I want to get fucked.”

Such was her commandment, and he would obey. Robin stumbled over to her, his erection restored at her provocative acts. He reared up behind her, once again relishing the scent of her hair. Feeling his hot breath on her head made her fingers clench in anticipation.

The tactician grabbed her hips and lined up his cock. Ishtar whimpered at the sensation, eager to spear herself on his dick. The two acted in tandem, an unplanned synchronization that ended with him buried deep inside her carnal storm “Robinn nnn.

Robin said nothing, preferring to grit his teeth. The way her velvet walls choked him was...it was heavenly. More than a woman, more than a princess, she was a goddess, even if she denied such blasphemous proclamation. ‘I’ll just have to convince her of her divinity myself’ he resolved.

The crashing of waves and the creaking of wood where minute distractions to them. Instead their ears were filled with the sounds of subdued grunts and wet, slapping flesh. Her bangles and jewelry shook and swayed, occasionally hitting the sides of the crate with a muted chink . They kept their voices low, but weren’t silent in their carnal praise or adoration.

Drunk on arousal as he was, Robin was ever keen to the limitations of their coupling. She was practically leaning over the edge of the crate, and yet there was still more of his dick that couldn’t reach her electrifying embrace. The tactician reached down and grabbed her thigh.

Ishtar was taken aback. “W-what are yo- oooooh... ” her inquiry died as he rolled her hips. While Robin enjoyed the benefits more, the princess couldn’t help but copy his movements. He let her get used to the lull, bracing himself for what he was about to do.

“A-Aah?!”

The tactician lifted her leg, forcing her to tighten her grip on the crate.The charm of her ankle bracelet spun downard thanks to gravity. His thrusts sped up, causing some of her lingering juices to drip out of her snatch. His arm wrapped under her knee, helping to secure its place as he plowed her.

She moaned in delight at his new strategy, relishing the way it bumped and scraped against her sex. Her nails dug into the coarse wood, threatening to break her tips off. The princess struggled to hold on as she was brought closer and closer to the lip of the crate.

Thunk thunk thunk

Fwop

Ishtar’s dress caught on edge, causing her to breasts pop out. Now free, her tits bounced and jiggled with every thrust. The princess hissed as her nipples instantly hardened in the cold night air. She resisted the urge to grab them, lest she lose her grip on the crate that was the only thing holding her up.

The sight of her erratic chest seemed to spur Robin on. He doubled his pace, loudly slamming their hips together. Her jewelry jangled together. Wet trails of sweat and sex formed and broke with every thrust. They were both so close...

Creeeeak

The sounds of a nearby door alarmed the duo. Thinking quickly, Robin dropped to his knees, taking his goddess with him. He attempted to catch her, only to have Ishtar fall past his grip and into his discarded cloak. The tactician winced at her muffled landing, but at least it looked like she wasn’t injured. He gave one last pump, intent to hold her close until they were in the clear.

However, his action had the consequence of flinging her into a climactic orgasm. Ishtar instinctively bit down on his cloak, silencing her screams on the worn garb. Her lover reached over, muffling her body as she shuddered and spasmed.

Robin grit his own teeth, biting down on his lip until he tasted blood. Her vice-like grip on his cock was unbearable as she tried to coax out his seed. Her womb ached for his bastards, wanting to give Mogan a little half-sibling. It was such a great temptation...but one that he ultimately managed to overcome. Barely.

The minutes passed agonizingly slow as they waited for the deckhand to retreat. But their patience was rewarded as the siren call of a cleric compelled their would-be witness back down into the hull. Ishtar’s frayed mind had come to just in time to hear the thundering boom of their renewed isolation. She spat out his cloak, leaving a puddle of drool on the thoroughly abused garment. “T-that was… Aah ?!”

He didn’t move with the intent to interrupt her, only to bring her close to his warmer body. She suddenly felt the chill of the night, especially on her rock-hard nipples and well-used sex. And yet there was an absence in her pussy, a certain messy load that she’d been dearly looking forward to. “You didn’t finish?” she asked, partially out of shock.

Robin shook his head, more concerned for her increasing shivers than his own aching balls. “It’s fine. You’re clearly freezing so we can just go in and-”

“Absolutely not,” she growled.

However, Robin wasn’t placeated by just her voice this time, “But Ishtar you’re-”

The princess got up with a huff, quickly passing him. Contrary to his fears, she’d only gone far enough to pick up his crumpled cloak and throw it back around her shoulders. Satisfied that it would stay on, Ishtar stomped back, lingering only long enough to grab him by the arm and drag him along.

With some difficulty, she shimmied on top of the crate and turned back to him. The sight of her heaving breasts and gushing pussy filled his gaze. His attention to detail was only broken by her next commandment. “Listen to me, Robin. You’re going to screw me until you’re ready to burst. Got it?”

He obeyed her without further question.

They were both now fully exposed to the deck. If anyone were to come stumbling out from below, they’d only have to turn to the aft to see the two Heroes brazenly fucking atop precious stored supplies. To have the betrothed of the Emperor of Grannvale and a lowly foreigner in such relations. The shame and notoriety would end them.

Neither one could begin to care.

Ishtar thrust back, eager to match his hips with her own and was now more than capable of doing so. Her mind had been cleared of distractions, cleared of her conflicts and doubts for herself and her betrothed. All that mattered was Robin’s cock, and her continued quest to honor it between her legs.

With each smacking union, more and more of her quim dripped onto the crate. Her heels clacked against the sides, a rhythm that was only broken by his occasional mix-up of thrusts, rolls, or outright stopping. Her breasts flopped and bounced, nearly smacking her in the chin on multiple occasions. Her hair had become disheveled and was barely held in place thanks to her ponytail tie.

The moon passed in and out of the clouds, casting them in cold light before quickly snuffing it out once more. In the brief moments of lunar illumination, Robin could see how his actions had defiled the Goddess of Thunder. Her once-pristine skin now drenched in sweat, her tight purple dress littered in small tears and rips. He had taken the once-proud Ishtar of Friege and made her into the fucked-stupid woman that she so dearly wanted to be that night.

A harsh thrust made her cry out, a shrill sound that would’ve immediately outed them. She hastefully bit down on the cloak’s sleeve, gagging herself from another outburst. That lavisicious image stayed with him, seared into his mind as she passed in and out of the night’s shadow.

Ishtar’s divine body wasn’t all that would coax him to orgasm. Her every pant, every whimper and every mewl, had the effect that had been so cruelly denied him before. “I-I-shtar I’m-!”

His words pulled her out of her sexual stupor and sent a chill down her spine. ‘Oh gods! What am I thinking?!’ she mentally screamed. ‘I’m engaged to Jul...to J...to the Emperor! I-I can’t just be...I have to stop him!’ though she quickly came to that decision, it was much, much harder to pant out, “No! P-p-pull out!”

Disappointed, Robin nonetheless obeyed her order. His goddess followed him, hopping down from the crate. She stumbled, but ultimately managed to land on her feet, a remarkable accomplishment given the size of her heels. She turned to him and leaned close, presenting her breasts to him. With a sultry tone she whispered, “Keep stroking.”

The tactician compiled, rubbing himself with the provocative sight before him. His free hand gripped the crate, struggling to hold himself up. The princess used the same crate as a guide as she gingerly fell to her knees. Once she was comfortable, she turned to her masturbating lover and gave him the same sultry gaze that had driven him since the start. Her order was simple, “Give it to me”.

So she ordained.

Ishtar repressed a shudder as his fell seed defiled her face. An errant shot hit too close, forcing her to close her eyes and rob herself of sight. She endured the desecration, feeling his spunk land on nose and across her lips. The princess risked a taste, only to balk in disgust. ‘Too salty...’

She dared to open her eye, only to immediately flinch when a rope of cum struck her brow. Her mouth remained sealed, intent on letting no more of his banished spawn onto her tongue. Her breasts, however, weren’t spared from his great flood. She blindly groped her tits, staining her bosom with his spunk. A shudder went up her spine as she felt some of it drip between her breasts and down to her stomach. ‘S-so much cum… ’ she thought.

The princess waited before risking her vision again. This time she was spared of any further strife, as Robin’s loins had run dry. The tactician collapsed before her, his wilted cock swinging between his legs.

Ishtar crawled up him, her knees protesting the act. She reached his panting face and studied his weary features. Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek. Robin leaned into her palm, causing a shiver to pass through her before she spoke again, “Tomorrow night, I want you in my quarters.”

Her decree carried the same weight as a judgment. Were their circumstances even the slightest bit different, she could very well be ordering him to his death. And who could honestly blame her?

He had defiled her...and she wanted more.

Robin wrapped his arms around her, pulling his goddess closer to him. “Yes princess. As you will.”

The sound of flapping wings awoke Ishtar.

The princess noticed her lover’s absence, feeling her heart sink. Her every attempt to rouse was impeded by her taxed muscles’ protests. Eventually she made her way to her feet, wincing when her attempts to stretch caused her to creak worse than the planks.

The reason was easily clear, especially for her. Flashes of the long, hot night before polluted her mind. It made their first romp on deck look like a chaste courtly affair. He had been insatiable in his desire to honor her. Even if it was only a scant few hours ago, she longed for more... for him.

Already she missed Robin’s touch, the way he would hold her, the way he would praise her, would tame her in his crusade to honor the Thunder Goddess. Still, she could take solace in his homely scent thanks to her claim on his cloak. “Mmm,” she relished in his natural odor, rubbing her nose against the collar. The stains that they’d baptized it with would take gods only know how long to cleanse. ‘It was all worth it,’ She smirked at the thought.

Ishtar struggled to move, finding more resistance in her aching body than she did the rocking of the ship. In fact it seemed that the ocean was rather placid today, a welcome respite from the waters that had plagued them for days now. From the drawn curtains, a thin peak of oppressive light intruded her quarters.

She heard chatter coming from on-deck, compelling her to find the source of the rabble. With no time wasted to tame her wild hair or apply a single accessory, she limped up to the door and pulled it open. Her hand flew up to her eyes, shielding the brutal sun from her vulnerable eyes. She’d spent too many hours in the total darkness after her candle had burned away, not that she regretted a second of it. In time, she adjusted and was able to make out shapes and forms on the forward deck.

The first was a large black pegasus, draped in regalia and finery. The winged beast greeted her with an impashioned whinny, directing her attention to the other two major features. The first was Robin, decked out in the sturdy apparel he wore beneath his cloak. The other was a new girl; wearing a modified version of the man’s trademark garb molded into a sky rider’s uniform.

The girl noticed Ishtar first and waved. Somehow the beaming smile on her face seemed almost brighter than the very sun that had assaulted the princess. “Ah you must be Lady Ishtar! Thank you so much for saving my fa...ther...”

Robin turned to see what made his daughter trail off, only to instantly see what the issue was. ‘Oh no,’ he groaned. In her haste, his fellow magic-wielder had walked out wearing only his clothes.

Ishtar had done up the bottom three ties of his cloak, a stark contrast to Robin’s usual act of securing only the topmost one. Her loins were concealed, but the topmost part of her collar and breasts were not. More damningly, the stains on her chest and her thighs stuck out clear as day on her fair skin.

It was flagrantly clear to Morgan that minus Ishtar’s stockings and gloves, the princess of Friege was naked. Beneath her father’s clothes. Wearing the testaments of their debauchery.

The princess blinked, confused by the strange antics of the father and daughter duo. She saw their eyes trace up and down her body, Robin’s far more frantically than Morgan’s. Only when she glanced down and saw her shameful state of undress did reason come crashing through. “Oh my!” Ishtar cried.

Morgan’s stunned face was broken as a familiar, devious grin bloomed. The kind that oft made her companion’s lives a temporary hell. “You know, I was wondering why my hair looked a little lighter this morning,” she chiperly declared.

“Morgan!” Robin snapped at his trollish daughter.

Ishtar merely whimpered as she pulled the hood over her eyes.

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


“Oh, joy.”

Tharja’s flat voice expressed a sharp contrast to that of her two comrades at their final battleground. The gardens had been nice, albeit too bustling for her tastes. The sudden leap into Nifl had made her glad for her bouquet keeping her warm. The beach...just no. But how apt it was that the last battle would be in a chapel, especially given her current attire.

To call her ‘ravishing’ was to be woefully inadequate. Despite her misgivings at the gown, Tharja had taken it and truly made it her own, accentuating her usual dark mage’s garb in the process. It was a toss up if she was showing more or less skin than usual, especially compared to her incarnation from the Winter’s Envoy. But she was no less deft with her weapon, in this case a bouquet of Muspell Fireposeys.

“Alright, we’ll finish things here and head back to Askr!” Morgan cheered, holding his copy of the Fenrir tome. The Elder words within those pages called to her, but were nothing more than a whisper compared to the thundering chorus from within the chipper boy’s soul. He turned to her, exposing her to the light of his smile as he asked her, “This will be a cinch, right Tharja?”

Tharja said nothing, offering only a tsk before focusing on the battle to come. Morgan fell in line beside her, alongside their other surviving comrade who’s name she didn’t care to recall. ‘As long as he swings that little stick, that’s good enough for me’ the dark bride mused. She gave no more thought of that, intent to focus on the final skirmish and repress her near-catastrophic failures.

The short night between their last bout and now...Tharja had almost done something she’d regret. It was compulsion towards the lad’s inner darkness, the same rich ocean that she could feel wafting in his father...mother...Robin. The fact it was smaller was of no consequence to her, especially when she was alone with him. The curse of her arcane gifts cared not.

Still, this was not the time nor place to wallow in her own sickening thoughts. As her companions lifted their respective weapons, she followed suit by...clutching her bouquet. The smoldering heat of the deadly fire-flowers brought a twisted smile to her face.

“Get back, Morgan!”

He heeded Tharja’s advice, leaping away from the weapon that came crashing down. The deadly spoon gouged deep into the stone, cutting clear past where his neck would have been. The delicious slice of cake was defiled as the blood of Bartre the warrior dripped off the giant utensil.

Charlotte’s berserk grin shined brighter than the silver spoon. The crazed blonde bride effortlessly pulled her embedded weapon out and struck again, managing to hit his side. Morgan’s screams of pain caused her face to twitch. Whether in joy, despair, or simply annoyance was of no consequence.

Tharja watched in horror as she rushed across the aisle. Her free hand had the insufferable burden of holding up her dress. Her other was clutching the bouquet with such force her knuckles had turned white.

She couldn’t see the lad’s face, but she saw his cloak...the same one that her beloved Robin cherished. He wasn’t moving, even as the maniacal nohrian loomed over him to finish the job. It was enough to send her into a fury- a cold, deadly fury.

Elder magic was based on the pursuit of knowledge, but it was so much more than that. It was the merits of enlightenments, and the detriments and costs of unworldly teaching. The boons and banes of controlling rationality...and losing it. And what was more irrational and detrimental to that course than emotion?

Fwoosh!

Charlotte howled in pain as the fire struck her, burning her already-tattered dress. She forgot about Morgan as she turned to face her comrade in mock martial matrimony. Tharja glowered at her as her bouquet burst into flames.

“Love is a curse,” the dark bride growled before unleashing the full fury of her hellfire on Charlotte. The force of her attack sent the blonde flying backwards, crashing into the altar as her body went limp.

Tharja didn’t care, and was instead focused on helping Morgan to his feet. Minus a deep cut in his side and the loss of his leather sash, he was okay. Her relief briefly overpowered the dark whispers in her head.

The tactician’s son winced as his living companion cradled him. “I...We won?” he asked, trying to catch his breath. Tharja was prepared to respond, only for the golden light of victory to flash through the windows.

“So we did,” she mused. Her eyes roamed his body, searching for any debilitating or crippling wounds. ‘He’s lucky, nothing that a healing staff wouldn’t fix,’ she mused. That wouldn’t stop her hand from being a little too amorous in its inspections.

As one, the duo watched a telltale beam of light illuminate the door of the chapel. Morgan knew that it would take them back to Folkhalla , back to their fellow Heroes and the now-alive charms of Bartre and Amelia, never knowing when they’d be paired up again unless they requested it...

Morgan attempted to move, only for her arms to keep him in place. “Don’t push yourself. We have time,” she explained. Her inner desire to keep him close and bask in his rich darkness went unsaid. He swallowed the lump in his throat before relenting.

Silence fell over them. Time passed, indiscriminate of their respective plights. The young tactician had averted his eyes, trying not appreciate how active her chest was, even in the act of simply breathing. Beyond that was how tight her dress looked on her, or the teasing visage of her bare skin through the bits of chiffon.

Tharja wiped her brow, smearing her black sleeves with her sweat. It wasn’t from the battle, or even the heat of her bouquet. It was her anxiety, her body craving his on a level that went disturbingly beyond mere adoration. He was the nectar she needed. ‘It’s like Camilla said, find what makes you feel alive and feed it,’ she mused.

Morgan perked up suddenly, breaking her of her lull. “I-I think we should head back!” he quickly said. She hadn’t realized how low her hand had gone in its...probing, or how much of an impact it had.

Tharja was reluctant to let him stand up. Not out of concern, but for the loss of his touch. She attempted to follow him, trying to bring him back into her arms. He was resistant, turning back to protest. “Tharja we need to g- mmph ?!”

A chance, a single whim had brought her crashing down on him. She sucked against his teeth, flinging her tongue into his mouth. She relished it all: his spit, his sweat, and even the dulcet whimpers.

Her lips weren’t the only thing busy. Her hand stroked his groin, intent to coax out the dragon in his pants. It took little effort on her part, especially after he’d spent so long trying to not think about the bewitching bride whose lap he encroached. Her efforts were rewarded as his dick sprung up inside his drawers.

Reluctantly, Tharja pulled away. ’The next hex I make is going to be to against my lungs’ she silently declared. Her hand snuck into his trousers, delicately stroking his girth. Morgan took a moment to process everything that had happened, his eyes snapping to his now prominent erection.

“T-Tharja wha-?”

“I’m giving you a choice, boy,” she explained. Her hand was pumping his girth now, running her manicured nails against his dick. Satisfied that he was paying attention, she ceased her ministrations, much to his protest. “Not to worry little one, I can take away this pain...if you make the right choice.” she warned.

Tharja slowly drew up to his glans, delighting in the feeling of sticky pre-cum between her fingers. The marital magic mistress let out a groan of appreciation before delivering her ultimatum. “Now listen. Either you step into that pillar of light and leave us both in frustration…” she trailed off, making a show of losing her grip on his cock.

Morgan was in agony over her actions. He barely managed to squeak out a reply. “O-Or?”

She smiled, her usual devious grin with an added dose of lust. “Or you stay here-” she started. Her hand reached behind his head and pulled him to her. Her full lips ended up right next to his ear, letting her whisper, “-and I show you what your father’s been missing,” before pulling away.

Morgan whimpered at her violation, especially when coupled with her ever-roaming palm. ”H-he’s not my father,” the young man stuttered, trying to clear the misconception of his mother’s counterpart.

Tharja laughed at his statement, a deep chuckle that sent shivers down his spine and loins. “Whatever. Choose,” she ordered. For good measure, she relinquished her hold on him, letting him stumble back with his shameful erection sticking out.

He didn’t hesitate to dive back in.

“Good answer,” she complimented him before re-capturing his lips. She felt his resistance weaken and ultimately shatter, melting into her lascivious tongue. He was putty in her hands, ready for her to mold him as she saw fit. When she pulled away, he whimpered at her absence.

“Now allow me,” the dark bride said as she got on her knees. Her manicured nails reached for the strings of his drawers, deftly untying the knot. She let his pants fall to his knees, too interested in the bulge that peeked out of his underwear. With a quick tug, his cock was now free, much to her approval.

“Mmm, impressive,” Tharja cooed, delighted at the sexual sight. It was big, but not too daunting. Just large enough that she could imagine straddling the line between pleasure and pain. The sorceress leaned in, taking in the musky scent from base to tip. “Oh yes, I think this will do just fine,” she declared.

Morgan was embarrassed by her lavish praise and shifted uncomfortably. As if sensing his tepidness, she looked up and offered her best attempt at a normal smile. She was...improving.

“Just lay back and let me take care of this,” Tharja explained. Her hand had started to stroke his dick, a smooth, open-palmed motion that was similar to petting a cat. The connotation was lost to him, especially since he was so naive. “Don’t get too comfortable though, you’ll be paying me back ten times over” she warned.

The young man swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Satisfied,she gave his dick a little tossle, reminding him of the matter at hand. She unconsciously licked her lips before asking, “Now where should I put this?”

The bewitching bride put on a look of mock contemplation. “Hmm, In my mouth?” she mused, bringing it close to her lips. For added measure, she gave a little lick to his slit, relishing in the way he squirmed.

Tharja brought her other hand up and spat in it. “Maybe go straight into my pussy?” she suggested, using her wet hand to squeeze his cock in an attempt to simulate her dripping sex. She took his stammering as a badge of honor.

The sorceress changed her demeanor, dropping the mirth before asking her final question. “Or do you want to take my ass ?” she growled. Her example was less refined as she tried to squeeze his cock between her ring and middle finger. It was rough and painful...only a fraction of what she’d have to endure even if he did it right.

Morgan let out a yelp, only for it to morph into a sigh as she loosened her grip. “Relax, I’m only teasing you, Morgan,” she explained. Somehow he found comfort in her biting chuckle. He was finding that there was a certain...tenderness, in her demeanor. The kind that she’d sooner hex you to silence than let be exposed. It was that same muted compassion that guided his cock to her plunging neckline. “We’ll start here.”

Her younger lover said nothing, too flustered by everything happening to properly respond. He let her take him into her bosom feeling the sudden warmth and pressure of her tightly packed tits. He suddenly yelped, causing her to pause and ask, “What’s wrong?”

“T-There’s something in there,” Morgan explained. She looked skeptical and pushed him further in for good measure. “I’m sure of it. It feels...cold.”

Tharja mulled his words. “Oh? ...Oh! That’s right!” she exclaimed. She let go of her breasts, letting him slide out. As soon as his cockhead cleared her clevage, the sorceress plunged her hand between her tits.

She ignored Morgan’s shocked sputters as she blindly groped for the intrusion. Her nails scraped against her skin as she rummaged around in her bosom. Eventually her fingers gripped around the chain, prompting her to pull it out.

Morgan stared at what she’d procured. It was a silver chain, with a pair of matching rings wrapped around it. ‘W-why did she have those down there? ’ he wondered.

Tharja snapped off the chain, letting the two rings slide free. “Here, put this on,” she insisted as she placed one of the innocuous bands in his hands. He looked down at the ring, feeling his cheeks burning at the sight, the implications. “None of that, it’s just a replica that came with the costume,” she snapped, breaking him out of his vivid fancies.

Morgan slipped it on, wincing at the cold silver on his bare finger. Her sudden grip on his shaft made him freeze up as she breathed into his ear. “Although I may have...modified it, somewhat,” the dark bride chuckled.

The tactican’s son swallowed before asking, “So it doesn't mean...uh, that?

Tharja shrugged. “Who can say? Buuuut I can tell you what it does,” she cooed before leaning into his ear again.

Morgan listened to her words. It seemed innocuous at first, shared strength, heightened senses. But after that it quickly became quite...racy. By the time she pulled away, his cheeks were as hot as her bouquet. “T-that long? That much?

“Mmhmm, but let’s see if you can exceed those limits, shall we?” she smirked. With that, his cock was once again nestled between her bosom, now completely unmolested by any unwelcome intrusions. The only thing he felt was the tight warmth of her cleavage.

Tharja drooled down into her breasts, letting the spit act as an extra form of lubricant. She squeezed her sides together, compressing his dick in her heavenly flesh. She took the initiative and bounced up.

Sadly, Morgan turned out be unable to resist her tempting torture, and swiftly succumbed to his climax. Tharja cooed as she felt the valley of her breasts fill up with his warm cum, dripping down her crack and pooling into the tight fabric of her chiffon-covered stomach. The sheer volume of his loads made her forgive his disappointingly short time. The fact he was still hard in her cleavage also helped matters.

“You’ve made a mess of my bodice...good,” she smirked as he pulled away. Sticky strings of sperm connected him to her chest, breaking away and landing on her purple breast cloth. She was amused at the sight, turning back to him and asking, “I trust there will be more where that came from?”

Morgan turned away, equal parts embarrassed and anxious. “I-I don’t know,” he admitted. His eyes glanced down to the flicker of silver on his finger. “What about these rings?” the lad asked. Tharja grabbed his hand and pulled his attention back to her.

“Watch me closely,” she explained as she brought his hand up to her mouth. Without looking away, her lips closed around his ring-clad finger, taking the digit into her hot mouth. Morgan’s hand twitches, causing it to wiggle between her teeth. Still, she kept going.

At last she arrived at the ring, taking the cool metal band between her pursed, painted lips. Tharja held it there, softly suckling on the polished silver. Morgan looked on, perturbed yet aroused at her display. After a minute, she pulled back with a loud, wet pop . The thin bridge of saliva joining his finger and her mouth quickly broke away.

“Now you do the same,” she said as she brought her own dainty hand up. He gulped, looking at her perfectly manicured nails and imagined them pricking the inside of his mouth. Still, he obeyed her request and took her in his hands. ‘Okay, just like mother showed me...except i’m not kissing her hand...oh gods,’ he whimpered.

Tharja watched as he emulated her actions, sucking in her finger. She groaned when his teeth grazed her skin, rubbing along the surface. His tongue curled around her digit, dripping saliva as he at last reached the ring.

Her free hand came up to his forehead, gently pushing him up to face her. She offered the nervous lad a truly rare smile, one lacking in her usual dark tendency and intent. It made the task of holding the ring between his lips for a full minute that much more bearable. He was almost reluctant to let her slide it out, knowing full well he’d taken it for far, far longer than required.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked with a knowing smirk. Morgan said nothing, merely looking down at his ring for any signs of something peculiar. “Just wait, it’ll become clear soon enough,” Tharja explained as she grabbed his hands. He helped her up, earning more favor in her eyes.

She led him around the altar, coming to a stop before the ornate table. The lovely pair of candelabras and a bowl of water were unceremoniously swept aside to give her room to lean over. Her bouquet was tossed to the side, just out of reach..

With an almost practiced ease, Tharja reclined against the altar. Her back arched as she rested on her elbows. Her hair was swept to one side, exposing the sizzling gaze that beckoned him forth. She gave a small shudder, directing him down to her protruding rear.

Morgan shakily grabbed her hips, laying his dick against her back. He pressed down, compressing her dress between her asscheeks and his girth. He hesitated.

“Don’t be shy, just enjoy,” she cooed.

He took her up on her offer.

The bride’s finger was bitten down on a she looked back to admire Morgan’s hip thrusts. The lad’s cock was firmly planted between her asscheeks, sandwiched by her covered rump. Her elbows were rubbed raw against the top of the altar, cradling her head as she surrendered to the motions.

Tharja huffed in frustration, looking down on her insufferable dress. A wicked idea came to mind, followed by her telltale smirk. She left him dazed on the ground as she reached for her bouquet. With careful precision, she plucked two petals of her fireposeys...

The smell of something burning snapped Morgan back. He looked up just in time to see Tharja finishing her modifications to her lavishly lascivious gown. She pulled off the skirt, leaving a jagged edge where it had once flowed down. That just left her bow and her hip wings. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just a sham,” she shrugged, kicking the now-useless remnants aside.

“R-Right,” he replied. His attention was firmly on her legs, the way her panytyhose stretched over her sensual calves. He could just make out the sight of something purple and frilled between her legs.

Tharja hopped up on the altar and hiked up her legs. She tore a hole in her crotch lining, giving her room to reach her precious panties. “Besides, everyone knows that a real wedding dress is white…” she chuckled before turning up to him. Her legs came apart, revealing her glistening pussy and trimmed pubes. “So why don’t you come here and paint it right?”

Her words had the intended effect, albeit at a somewhat shorter pace than she would’ve liked. She looked at his half-mast and tsked.

“Seems the hex doesn’t act as quickly as I thought. But no matter...” she trailed off. Her lips left a wet smack against his glans before rearing up to gobble his dick.

Morgan gasped as his dark lover consumed his prick. Without losing eye contact, she bobbed her head down his shaft. Her tongue worked diligently to clean off any remnants of their earlier copulation. She tasted not only his cum, but also her own juices. Her ministrations had the desired effect, and he was soon hard again in her hot mouth. “Pwah! That just leaves us more time for the fun, doesn’t it?” she cooed, rubbing him up with vigorous pumps...

Morgan’s hands clamped down on the edge, giving him more leverage to plow her. Tharja’s back rubbed against the top of the altar, her arms overhead to grab the opposite end. Her beaded chokers bounced with every thrust, a far more subdued motion then her breasts.

Her legs slammed against the sides, rubbing her almost-bare calves against polished stone. She felt him unleash another load deep in her greedy sex. Her toes curled as the world turned white…

Morgan grunted as her hips slammed down on him. He was graced with an unmolested view of her rippling ass cheeks and her naked back. He could barely make out the sight of her hands squeezing her tits, kneading them as she let out guttural howls.

Tharja collapsed as another orgasm rocked her body. She felt his hands latch onto her hips as another blast of fell cum pasted her womb. Her tongue lolled out as the dull tone of bells consumed her mind…

The bride bit her lips, wincing at the taste of copper. Her fingers tightened around her calves, cutting into her panty hose and leaving marks on her pale skin. She felt his hands squeeze on her hips, pulling her up closer to his mouth. ‘G-Gods...where did he pick up this ??’

Morgan was ignorant of her plight, too focused on licking her pussy. He tasted his own seed, but merely the lingering effects. Any cum that had been in her channel had dripped down to the charred remains of her skirt. His tongue grazed her clit, causing her to scream as orgasmic fire burned her…

Her hand clasped against his crown, squeezing his sore glans. Her fingers broke the dried layer of spunk as she pulled down. Her grip was just as tight as her throat and pussy had been, without the added benefit of being naturally lubricated.

Morgan grunted as he came, drenching her arm in his seed. She looked at the potent ropes of fell spawn that baptized her, transforming her midnight gown into an almost milky sheen. She licked her lips at the sight...

Tharja whimpered, grinding her hips at the abrupt shift of speed. Her younger lover had ignored her plight, preferring instead to splay out over her spunk-coated back. His hands reached around to softly cup her breasts, kneading them through the ribbed fabric of her brassiere. His teeth were over her thick choker, attacking the sensitive space where her neck met her head.

“Y-you’re incorrigible” she growled. He said nothing, opting instead to wiggle his dick in her stuffed pussy. Her fingers gripped the carpet, followed by the clenching of her teeth. ‘Gods, where did he learn all this?!’ she wondered as she bit down on her lip...

Tharja’s cheek rubbed against the stained glass, smearing a little of her mouth’s blood. One hand was pressed above her, the other pulled behind her back. The dark bride had long since abandoned her cold shell and was now openly praising and moaning in delight. Her bruised lips were open as a permanent chorus of sexual bliss echoed through the chapel.

Behind her, Morgan was slamming his hips, slapping against her spunk-stained asscheeks. His hands clutched her wrist and hips, using the leverage to drill her sopping pussy. The boy’s cloak was down at his feet, exposing his bare, sweaty arms. Her nails drew down the ornate glass, scratching it as another orgasm wracked her body...

Tharja gripped the end of the altar as she endured his assault. The lad continued tonguing her ass, pushing her buttcheeks further apart to gain more room. His lips were sealed around her crack, giving it a sloppy wet kiss.

“M-ooooor-” she trailed off. Whether she was begging for more or calling his name was of no relevance to the lad. All he cared about was making her squirm and scream until the rafters shook. Her curled toes suggested he was succeeding…

Tharja’s hands clutched the pillar, pressing her ass out further. Morgan was back between her buttcheeks, now even closer to the perfect curvature of her rump. His pace was more frantic now, devoid of his earlier trepidation against the altar. His hands firmly held her cheeks in place, giving him the tension he needed whilst still letting her skin ripple with every thrust.

She purred in delight as he twitched between her rump, heralding his impending climax. She felt hot lashes of sticky cum latch onto her naked back. ‘I could get used to this…’ she happily sighed…

Morgan gasped under the deft assault of Tharja. Her lips were sealed around his cock, torturing him with a gutteral symphony. Her fingers pumped in and out of the young man’s asshole. Her other hand was scraping the space between his balls.

The twisted bride pressed on, her nails digging into his prostate. He rewarded her with more of his salty dowry. And from his lips she drew a hallelujah...

Her heels dug into his sides, making it harder for him to fuck her. Morgan growled at the obstacle, but pushed further. His grip on her arms tightened as he doubled his pace.

His legs protested her weight, quickly silenced as the lustful hex granted him endurance and stamina that would normally be beyond the meek young man. His balls slapped against her ass, already drenched in a discharged mixture of cum and quim. Tharja bit down on his neck as another orgasm ravaged her weary body...

She had him on his knees, right in front of the altar. Tharja’s smirk was firmly on her face as she tousled his reddened cock with her stocking-clad toes. She lacked skill, but for a boy like him it was hardly a factor.

“Gods Tharja, I-I’m!” he cried out as more of his spunk stained her eager body. She mewled at the feeling of warm, sticky cum coating her heel before attempting to aim it up her calf. The brief spurts that reached through her patched stockings made a shudder go up her spine. “Very good. We’ll do the other leg later, okay?” she asked.

Morgan’s hands gripped her hips, body slapping straight into her greedy sex. Tharja was hunched over, barely holding herself up under his amorous assault. She’d lost count of how many loads had been stuffed into her twat, or smeared all over her ravaged dress.

Her body screamed under the constant onslaught, her frayed mind barely formed a coherent thought. ‘I-I’m so tired...but gods I need more’. The words never passed her pinched lips. She tasted blood again...

His smaller body attempted to smother her as he filled her snatch. Tharja’s hands bunched into the remains of her dress as she felt him latch down on her nape. She pushed back, causing her ass to slam into groin every time their hips met.

Morgan suckled her neck, causing goose flesh to litter her body. Her still-covered breasts rubbed against her bodice, finding the chiseled stone floor under her skirt. She bit her lip once again…

“Aren’t they nice?” Tharja cooed as she looked over at his clenched face. Below, her torn thigh highs rubbed and squeezed against his cock. She shifted her thighs, bringing one of the tight golden rings against his shaft. Hearing his gasp and feeling him squirm beneath her brought a full-blown smile to her face.

“Oh, you liked that don’t you?” her husky voice broke over his pants. She felt some more of his pre-cum land on her crotch. “Trust me, there’s more where that came from…”

Morgan’s head flew back with a groan. Beneath him, Tharja’s lips sucked and slurped on his cock, intent to coax out yet another load. Her head bobbed along his shaft, relishing the taste of their coupling. One hand was between her knees tracing circles around her ravished sex. The other was wrapped around the base of his shaft.

He gingerly pushed her hair back, exposing her onyx eyes. She winced at the sudden light, but kept blowing him. She repressed her gag reflexes and took him into her throat, never breaking her gaze on the son of her warped affections...

Her nails dug into the pew behind them, giving her some much-needed stability as she was ragdolled on his dick. Morgan’s hands were active, roaming her curvaceous body as he navigated chiffon, dress, and flesh. Her knees bashed against the backing, the pain drowned out by sweet, sexual bliss.

“Gods...Thaaaarjaaaa,” he moaned. Her response was to bend down and capture his lips. She nibbled on his tongue, coaxing it out to grapple with hers. As his hand reached her swollen clit, her own hand latched onto his head...

Tharja purred, feeling Morgan’s hands run through her disheveled locks. Her own hands were behind him, rubbing similar circles in his own hair. There was no vigorous pounding, no further defiling of their hallowed grounds. Just a tender moment on one of the pews.

‘I suppose getting a cramp isn’t always so bad…’ she thought as he gave her a little bump. She pushed back, almost playfully so. ‘Now how long is he going to drag his feet? ’ she wondered.

Smack!

Smack!

The taste of carpet filled her uncaring mouth as she rubbed against the fabric. Her breasts were in no better shape, their skin forcibly dragged against the ground. Her knees chafed as her sore ass endured blow after blow from the usually docile boy’s hand. When his tempo was finally interrupted, she let out a sigh of relief...

“Ah!”

His hands pulled up on her hair, using his new handlebars to bring her almost parallel with the carpet. Her knuckles dragged uselessly below her, unresponsive to her whims for even a minute hold. Her teeth found her lips once more, causing drops of blood to land on the resplendent blue trail…

They were both panting now, starting to feel the ends of the hex. Attempting to go any further ran the risk of a rather nasty backlash. The two took this rare moment of respite to admire their work on each other’s bodies.

She’d stripped Morgan down to nothing, thrown all his clothes around the chapel. His pale skin was covered in her marks. Her smeared lipstick, nail marks, and copious love bites. It would all be covered by his usual apparel, with the exception of maybe the twin smears of purple on his cheeks.

Tharja was more dressed, but no less lacking in his form of affection. She’d made him make do on that vow, and had transformed her outfit pure white. Dried cum stuck to her, indiscriminately coating skin and dress. The amount of spunk on her body would’ve made the most shameless strumpet blush...and she couldn’t be happier.

Still, there was one part of her that remained miraculously untouched by his decorative stream. She had no veil to go with her new, risque wedding gown. ‘We can’t have that,’ she mused.

She beckoned him to the nearby pew, “Sit down”. Morgan obeyed her, awkwardly shuffling with his still hard-cock. Tharja limped after him until they both arrived at their destination. He collapsed into the long bench while she fell to her knees between his legs.

“Now let your bride finish her work,” she cooed. Her hands gripped the cups of her dress and finally pulled them down, exposing her breasts caked in his dried cum. “You did this to me...I want you to do a little more,” she told him.

Her younger lover nodded, partially desensitized to her antics now. She took him back between her tits, giving him a more formal and proper massage now. Tharja rubbed her boobs along his shaft, looking him in the eyes as she gave him an urgent order. “As soon as you cum, I need you to take off your ring. There shouldn’t be any side effects...hopefully,”

Morgan’s response was to groan. She took it as him hearing her and resumed her focus on his dick. The dark bride changed up her tactics by alternating her strokes. She eyed the way his swollen crown would peek out from between her peaks. It looked raw, almost an angry red. ‘Nothing that a few healing salves can’t fix,’ she shrugged.

Tharja drooled onto his cock, decreasing the friction between them. She adjusted herself so that her boobs were pinned between her arms. Her now-free hands reached for her nipples and tweaked them.

The sight of his bewitching sorceress fondling herself brought him closer and closer to the edge. At this rate he’d smear her breasts again...which would be rather counter-productive to the creation of her new veil. So she relinquished her bosom hold. Morgan whimpered at her absence, only to hiss when he felt her fingers wrapped around his prick.

Her hands gilded against his shaft, intending to coax out the threads she’d need. Hearing his screams reach their peak, Tharja pumped his cock even faster. She dove down just in time for his first load to land and strike her head.

Tharja mewled in delight, leaning in to his cum blasts. Rope after rope landed in her hair, creating a sticky veil to go with her new bridal gown. Her hungry lips suckled and smooched his balls, relishing the twitching as his tanks unloaded onto her head. It seemed he had no intention of stopping anytime soon…

’Good, I’m feeling peckish.’

Morgan grunted as her tongue swept up his girth, followed by the tight warmth of her lips encapsulating his cumming cock. Rather than nurse him in her mouth, his illicit instructor slammed her own head down, ramming his dick all the way to the back of her mouth. “G-g-gods! Tharjaaaaaaaah!” he roared as his hands latched onto her spunk-covered head.

Her eyes widened as he slammed her head down, taking his girth down her throat. She coughed and gagged as ropes of sticky cum were shot down her gullet. She’d taken more than a few of his loads as a quick meal, but now she was also choking on his girth.

Her younger lover’s hands were firmly locked on her head, preventing her from backing away. Tharja was helpless to do anything beside lean in, bobbing her head slightly and waiting for the pain to subside. Her jaw had quickly become numb, followed by her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Morgan panicked at the sight of his partner going limp and struggled to pull her head off. He made it up to the back of her throat, accidently shooting a copious load of his seed up her sinuses. The young lad winced at the sight of cum running out her nose, dribbling down alongside the trails of slobber and drool that escaped her lips.

Tharja screamed as the burning sensation in her nose overrode all other senses. Her eyes watered as she tried to snort out his spunk. It hurt so much… and gods was she gushing . The slurry of cum and quim flowed out of her used pussy, a testament to how much this delightful pain was affecting her.

Her lips sucked in, as if protesting his attempts to help her. Ultimately, he managed to pull her off, though not before accidently hitting her eye with a less potent shot of jizz. Her eye twitched, but otherwise she didn’t react, even when his seed coated her lips. Instead she just gazed up at him, her earlier smolder gone and replaced by utter contentment.

For so long she’d wanted to look up and see the man, the dark god that she knew in her soul was worthy of her fidelity. While she truly admired Robin for his candor and his persistent drive, the cravings her body had for his rich, dark spirit were deeper than any earthly affection. She didn’t think it was possible to feel this way with anyone else...how foolish she was.

Morgan pulled the ring off, hissing in pain as his erection finally softened. When she made no move to follow his example, the lad took the initiative and gently removed hers. From beneath sheets and sheets of spunk, her cheeks turned rosy at his intimate touch.

What she had yet to gain in her darling, she had more than received by his ‘son’.

“Oh gods, how are we going to explain all this? Leaving the gate open for so long, your dress...Your dress!”

Morgan’s fretting had passed the line of endearing to her, and landed in the realm of irritation. “Mm, I suppose that would be an issue,” she sighed. Her hands kept smearing more and more of the delightful cum into her body, sending shivers down her spine. “Why don’t you lay down and we can think about it...in a few hours?”

Her younger lover rejected her offer in favor of limping back and forth. “We don’t have a few hours to waste, not anymore!” he exclaimed. He suddenly felt a chill in the air and turned back to his glowering lover. “N-not that I regret any of it or...um.” His stuttering was broken off by her chortle.

“The feeling's mutual. Now are you going to keep fretting or do you want to come here?” Tharja cooed. Morgan didn’t bother to answer her in favor of resuming his lipid pacing. ‘Well it was worth a shot,’ she sighed. She closed her eyes, trying to bask in her post-coital bliss.

The Tactician’s son kept rambling on, If only there was something to explain why we took so long, or why your dress is…”

“Do you have something in mind?” she asked, looking up from her pew. Her eyes followed his to the one croner they hadn’t utterly desecrated. Specifically, the gently babbling fountain that had been untouched by fighting or fucking...

It’s about time!”

The late tapestry of night had been expected, especially given how long they’d meandered at the chapel. The absence of a full welcoming party was also expected, and even anticipated. Yet the last thing he expected or wanted was his own mother waiting at the gates.

“Geez, what took you?!” Robin asked as she placed her hands on her hips. His mother had forsaken her trademark cloak, leaving her in just her white tank top, short shorts, and thigh-high boots. The look on her face was not just one of relief, but also an alarming tinge of anger.

His comrade-turned-fling didn’t leave him to suffer for long, and she smoothly interjected. “It was my fault, Robin. I humored Morgan’s little scavenger hunt for that bouquet,” Tharja explained. She did her best to conceal the mirth that threatened to spill out. ‘This is his idea after all,’ she thought.

Robin’s anger melted away in favor of irritation. “Of all the...I already told you the bouquet is only for brides, and it’s ONLY given out during the tournament!” she explained. ‘It was hard enough breaking it to him the first time, now It had to come up in front of Tharja of all people?!’ she lamented before turning to said sorceress. “And you!...Gods, what happened to you Tharja?”

Tharja shrugged, her shoulders covered by Morgan’s cloak. The dark bride had done up all four clasps of the long garment, hiding most of her body. What few extremities could be seen were wet, including her raven-toned hair. “I got hit in the battle, and your dear little son offered me his cloak.” she said. This seemed to placate the mother, who turned back to her son.

“Well I’m happy to hear he was at least courteous enough. I’d expect nothing less from my gallant young man,” Robin boasted as she clapped her shoulders on her son. Her proud smile elicited his own thin smirk. Only for her knuckles to tighten down as she opened her eyes and sweetly asked, “Now why don’t you tell me who this bouquet was for exactly, Morgan?”

Morgan flinched as her nails dug into his shoulder. He knew she wouldn’t hurt her, not physically at least. ‘Time to even the odds.’

“I-It was for you, mother.” he ‘sheepishly’ declared.

Tharja watched in amusement and appreciation at how swiftly the young man had managed to circumvent his mother. One coy little affirmation of paternal affection turned the legendary tactician of the Shepherds into a disheveled mess. ‘Ooh he’s good.’ she smirked.

Robin quickly withdrew her hands, now sporting a massive blush on her cheeks. “I-I need to get back to work. Thank you so much for taking care of Morgan, Tharja,” she exclaimed.

Tharja couldn’t help but give out one last parting shot. “Oh trust me, it was my pleasure,” she drawled. Only Morgan seemed to pick up on her double entendre, his mother was already leaving to return to her station.

“Morgan, escort Tharja to her rooms and then I want you in the archives immediately after! We’ve got a ton of books to process and the other me is still on his mission with Ishtar,” Robin hurriedly explained. With her back turned, she never saw the blush on her son’s cheek, nor the lewd lip smack from his mother’s stalker.

“Y-Yes mother,” he called out. She didn’t realize that not only was Tharja watching her leave, but so was her son. His vision was less on her retreating back and more on the hypnotic sway of her hips…

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


NOTE - The following work contains a coupling between confirmed blood relations. If that doesn’t interest you, Please be respectful and don’t leave flaming comments disparaging those that want to read it. Thank you.


“Hoy there, Marth!”

The masked warrior flinched at a boisterous call of her false name. Though their contact had been limited, she knew all too well who was hailing her. Still, she had a certain ‘facade’ to keep in place. “My apologies, and you are?”

The mage laughed, “Have we not had the pleasure? Then allow me!” he declared. Marth watched in dread as the eccentric retainer started his routine. “Mysterious masked warrior, you stand before the traveler of realms! An enigma of infinite possibilities!”

Each platitude was marked with a pose of some form, the meaning of which were beyond her desire to humor. ‘Thank Naga for the slits in this mask,’ she declared, grateful for an excuse to look away from the painful sight.

“The twilight Scion of Legend, Odin Dark!”

His last declaration snapped her back. While the rest of his ramblings had been a nuisance, it was the last one that made her balk. It was so boastful and annoying… So much like him .

Marth hissed in air between her teeth, trying to claim her composure lest she wind up breaking her cover. “Do you need something?” she asked, using a deeper tone of her ‘boyish’ voice than usual. The fact Odin had the gall to laugh at her inquiry made her long for the comforting grip of her silver sword.

“Not at all. Since destiny has entwined us, I thought it only apt that I share a meal with my comrade-in-arms!” he declared. Marth watched in a stupor as the eccentric mage reached out his hand, clearly putting more effort into the gesture than necessary. “So join me, masked warrior, on the field of feasting!”

“...No.”

Odin blinked at her curt refusal and departure. “Wha-? Hey wait!” he called, scrambling after his soon-to-be partner. To her credit, Marth had the grace to turn around, albeit with a clearly annoyed expression hidden by her mask. ‘Same as always I suppose’ he mused before shaking his head clear. “Look, we both have a mission later today. It might be more useful to compare notes and plan how to work together.”

“Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” Marth huffed. She walked past him this time, intent for the door to the nearby feast hall. Odin slumped over, a sour look clouding his usually boisterous face.

“So much for no more holding back…” he mused to himself. Somehow, Marth had been able to hear him even with the now-sizeable distance between the two.

“Did you say something?”

“No, nothing…”

The feast hall of the Order of Heroes was a grand one, festooned with great columns and roaring braziers. The middle of the chamber was dominated by a great fire-pit, one that had been sequestered off into a trio of smaller blazes for the lighter midday meals. The two rows of long tables were sparsely populated, just some Heroes and other members of the order catching a quick bite.

“Do you know if anyone’s going to be able to boost you?” Marth asked before downing some more water. Her plate was already clean, leaving only a few bones and some crumbs behind. Next to her, Odin swallowed his mouthful of bread before responding.

“Not really sure, I’ll at least be able to handle any fire mages or sword wielders,” he admitted. His comrade nodded, seeing the logic in such a simple concept. “Just keep the wind mages and axes off my back and I’ll be good,” Odin grinned.

His comrade didn’t respond, but he had come to expect that. The dark mage allowed his gaze to linger on the girl. Marth, the warrior that posed as a boy and took the name of the Hero-King. The warrior from a mysterious world that hid behind a slitted mask. ‘Gods, it hurts to see her this way again,’ Odin lamented.

Beyond her cold demeanor and mask, Odin picked up her idiosyncrasies and tells. The way she carried herself, ready to strike at a moments’ notice. Even amongst allies, her hand cradled the pommel of her sword, fingers ready to grab its handle and pull her blade free. She was just like the day he’d left her behind.

Marth stood up, clearly keen to leave. “I am ready to depart if you are,” she prompted. Her tone carried a certain edge, one that spoke unwell if Odin attempted to partake in the last morsel on his plate.

“Very well,” he relented. He pushed his chair back, giving him room to stand and join her. The duo walked back to the entrance, their gaits a perfect reflection of their contrasting manners and attitudes.

Odin reached the door first. “Let us go and face our destiny!” he boastfully declared. Marth watched as he threw the doors open.

Bam!

“Urk!”

The two were quickly drawn to the far foyer. There they saw Ephraim and Eirika, the latter clutching her neck as she attempted to breathe. Her brother was stunned for a mere moment before he snapped.

“Eirika!” He roared before leaping into action. The prince of Renais got behind his sister and leaned her forward. His fist balled up as he attempted to push her stomach. Eirika’s cheeks were turning blue as she squealed for air.

Odin and Lucina rushed over, hoping to do what they could to help. By the time they were in range, Eirika’s head was lulled to one side. Ephraim was undeterred however and gave one last concentrated thrust, “RRRAAGH!”

“Oof!”

Two half-eaten grapes flew out of her lips. One smacked Odin in the face, the other was neatly sliced in two thanks to Marth’s quick swordwork. The prince had ignored their presence as he focused on consoling his sister.

“Gods! Eirika, are you alright?!” Ephraim asked as he rubbed her back. Eirika held up a dainty, gloved hand as she took in heavy gulps of air. Her brother took the hint and gave her some space.

“N-No, no, gods...I’m fine.” she insisted. Marth and her brother didn’t look convinced, causing her to huff before stressing, “I just choked on something, that’s all,”

Marth was skeptical, but ultimately took the princess at her word. The same could not be said for Odin however. “My apologies, fair lady! In my exuberance to grapple with destiny, I seem to have lost sight of my fellow comrades!”

The other three were suitably confused at his antics. ‘Does he really think there’s a connection between what he did and what happened?’ Marth mused. The thought honestly seemed pretty feasible.

“T-that’s quite alright,” Eirika stammered. She didn’t really know what to make of Odin’s...antics. All she knew was that it wasn’t a pleasant sight after choking on her breakfast.

“We’re very appreciative of your concern,” Ephraim coolly explained. He was restrained, but clearly irate at the antics of the dark mage. “But don’t you have a mission to be departing for?” he asked as he helped his sister to her feet. Marth picked up on the edge, but Odin paid it no heed.

“Hark, he speaks the truth! Let us be off to meet the rest of our comrades!” he roared before sprinting out the door. The way his cape billowed and flowed behind him looked almost heroic, a facet that would’ve surely boasted the man’s already-grandiose manner.

Neither he nor the befuddled royal duo saw the slightest upturn of a smile on the masked girl’s face. ‘He acts just like him...he couldn’t really be...no, that’s absurd,’ she dismissed. ‘Absurd… but not impossible.’

Fire and death consumed them, surrounding the plaza in curtains of ruin. The village burned away under the onslaught of its invaders, making the battle as much against nature as it was against weapons. But that was before the unholy wrath found them.

Odin watched the Hoshidan princess disappear in a torrent of dark mist. There was no doubt about it, Sakura was dead, just like swordmaster Ayra. ‘And I’m next…’ he realized. A hack of blood distracted him from the fiery hellscape and his own melancholic realization.

It should’ve been so simple; a mere five enemies awaited them in this burning village. Odin had dispatched the duo of Elfire-wielding mages and had been awaiting his comrade’s victory. But the last foe…

Odin was so wrapped up in the macabre circumstance he didn’t even notice the ethereal wings that formed to his side. Nor did he acknowledge the sudden arrival of his sole remaining comrade.

“Odin, what’s going on?! What happened to…” Marth trailed off as the grim reality of their threat manifested before them. The plaza came back into focus as the dark clouds dissipated. Odin watched as his sole remaining partner practically broke right in front of him.

The foul miasma broke away as a single specter walked forth. They both recognized him, his signature cloak, the snowy hair. But the piercing red eyes and unholy purple flames surrounding him shattered the image of the amnesiac tactician.

“Grima….” Marth said, a simple word that was clad with so much baggage and burden. Sorrow, rage, despair, resolve...and fear. Her hand clenched the blade’s pommel until her knuckles turned white.

“Marth, stay focused!” Odin warned her. When his words actually had an impact, he opted to keep going rather than hang in shock. “Wait for him to attack first, he won’t be able to use his counterskills.”

The swordswoman mulled his counsel, finding a rare bit of sense in Odin’s words. While some traits such as a weapon were obvious, there were other traits and abilities that were beyond the naked eye. Only mages or certain other heroes could discern what sort of extra powers or skills had been honed. Ultimately she relented.

“Alright…” Marth declared, not too happy by the prospect. Odin offered her a smile, a far more humble one compared to his usual grins. The sounds of boots clomping on the dirt snapped their attention back to their advancing foe. ‘This is gonna hurt’ he mused.

Grima strode forward, piloting the body of their former ally. With a raised hand, he summoned a great apparition of his true form. The sight of those six red pinpricks bore down on the two. The disguised hero did everything in her power to keep from breaking down at the mere sight. ‘Why?! Gods, why don’t I have Falchion?!’ she mentally screamed.

“Odin! Stay back!” she urgently called. The dark mage complied, standing at the ready. The two watched in dread as Grima came to a stop right in front of the swordswoman. She glared at the shell of the tactician, her eyes blazing with hate.

Her knuckles whitened against her pommel.

It raised its hand.

GWOOOOOR!

Marth’s world was consumed.

“Gah!”

She screamed in pain as the dark miasma ate at her. Her outfit tore under the pressure, exposing her bare flesh to the toxic fumes. Her mask cracked under the pressure, forming a jagged line between her slits. An eternity of pain overtook her.

And then she found her strength.

With a roar, she lunged at Grima’s host, cleaving down on the former Shepherd. The puppet howled in pain, but unleashed a second wave upon her. Once more she was subjected to unrelenting pain. Her mask finally shattered, exposing her right eye.

Marth stumbled back, planting her silver blade into the ground for support. She coughed up blood, swiftly wiping it away with her sleeve. Her revealed eye blazed with a furor and fire that had been absent since her arrival to the Order. At long last she had a chance to slay the Fell Dragon.

Her attempt to strike would’ve been the last mistake she made if not for her comrade’s intervention.

“Lu-ook out!”

Odin had seen the odds against her and wasn’t happy by the results. If she attacked again, Marth would’ve been killed in Grima’s retaliation. Even putting it so close to death wouldn’t have helped in the end. So instead he did the only thing he could to ensure her survival.

Grima’s host was buried in ethereal blue swords, creating deep cracks in the ground. The illusion above wavered, but never fully disappeared. The reason became obvious as the shell broke free of its prison of blades and retaliated in kind.

GWOOOOOR!!

A single strike, but one that tore through the already-winded dark mage and sent him crashing backward. Marth reached out to her downed comrade, screaming in alarm, “Odin!”

The roar of the dragon snapped her back to attention. Marth’s now-exposed eye blazed with a rage that burned hotter than the village itself. Her silver sword gleamed in the fire’s light.

But then the blade started to glow, an ethereal blue light from within the weapon itself. Marth pulled her arm back and gripped it with both hands, the way her father had taught her. The masked youth snarled, a glint of light peeking from within her left slits, “This isn’t your future to claim, dastard.”

She took off, running full pelt at the fell dragon. The beast’s tail attempted to swat her away, only for Marth to leap high into the air. As she reared closer, a beam of warm sunlight pierced the overcast dusk, shining a radiant beam upon the two. With a roar, she brought her blade overhead and aimed for the stunned reincarnation.

“I SAY WHEN IT ENDS!”

Grima howled in pain as her sword cleaved through his body. Still, the fallen avatar managed to direct another blast from its construct, obliterating her newly stolen vitality and then some. But she was still alive thanks to her trick, and had enough speed to rear down with a killing blow.

Marth fell to her knee, gasping for breath. She averted her eyes from the fatally wounded monster. ‘When I see it die, it WON’T be some pathetic copy,’ the swordswoman swore. The shine of a golden sky from beyond the burning village offered only the barest respite. Not when she could see the unmoving form of her partner.

“Odin!”

She dashed back to her prone comrade, discarding her sword in the process. With the battle now over, she had no need to be burdened by the silver blade. She stumbled only once before reaching the still form of Odin.

“Oh gods, please…” Marth pleaded as she collapsed to her knees. Her numb fingers groped his boy, cradling him close. Tears flowed from her exposed eye, dripping onto his naked, bruised chest. “Naga...don’t...please!” she screamed over the crackling fire.

Her grief left her blind to the coming storm. Raindrops joined her in staining Odin’s body. The fires died under heaven’s onslaught, casting the weeping princess in dusk. She shivered under the sudden cold, but paid no further mind. Marth whimpered into his unmoving body, “N-not again…”

“A-aha...ha.”

Marth was too wrapped up in grief to hear his labored gasps. Only after he struggled to raise himself did she notice and react. “Aah?!”

Odin’s eyes slowly opened as a lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Ha...it’ll take more than some meager newt to vanquish Odin Dark,” he declared. Every word came out with a struggled breath, but otherwise he seemed in good health. Mostly.

“So we’re victorious, then?” he asked. The swordswoman slowly nodded, still trying to process his survival. ‘Did he get brought back by the Golden Sky?’ she thought. The one that heralded the victory of Askr and the security of a Heroes’ ward. Just another one of those peculiar phenomena that she’d come to expect.

Odin had rambled on past her, somehow finding conclusion with a cavalier smirk as he said, “Such an outcome was obvious, especially with you here.”

Hearing such praise heaped upon her made the girl called ‘Marth’ avert her gaze, praying that he wasn’t lucid enough to see the pink on her cheeks. “C-can you stand?” she asked.

The dark mage attempted to do so, faltering and yet making clear strides. Each movement caused his overly exposed physique to ripple and strain, a sight that was never once lost to her. Her already-riled emotions were under fire as she whispered to herself, ‘Don’t think of how he sounds like Him, how he talks like Him, or the way his muscles are...Stop thinking of that!’

Odin grunted as he failed once more. He was taken aback when his comrade finally reached up and grabbed his hand. She strained under his weight, but managed to pull him to his feet. Her other hand came up to his shoulder. “Thank you, Ma-umph?!”

The force of her sudden kiss nearly forced him back to the ground. She greedily attacked his lips, scraping against his mouth. The mage’s thoughts were swimming now, a thousand trails that all came to one confused statement.

‘What are you doing, Lucina?!’

He was used to these kind of sudden spars with her , so what made this any different? He may wear the garb of a Nohrian dark mage, but his body still bore the muscles and discipline of a Ylissian. She may think him a stranger, but in truth he knew ‘Marth’ better than anyone else in the Order could claim to.

He was Owain, son of two heroes and nephew of the lord-Exalt. Lucina’s trusted warrior, cousin...and lover.

Realization dawned on her, and the girl called ‘Marth’ pulled away. Her exposed eye was wide and filled with regret at her trespass. It was a look that he’d often relished seeing on her, and one that made his quandary all the more vexing. “Gods, M-my apologies,” she stammered.

‘Odin’ chuckled, a sound that had haunted her since that fateful day before she’d arrived in Askr. “What reason would a beautiful woman have to excuse her actions?” he inquired.

She was taken aback by his question. Her hand flew up to her face, realizing that half of her mask was in fact gone. “Y-you know?” she stuttered.

“You mean besides the broken mask?” he quipped. She was gracious enough to aim for his good shoulder, eliciting a wince of pain from the dark mage. He regained his composure before elaborating, “You’re a convincing actress, Marth, but theatrics are what Odin Dark lives for!”

His soft smile proved to be the breaking point. She laughed, a broken, shrill guffaw peppered by sobs. Owain caught her in his arms and held her close. His usually boastful tone was tempered as he whispered in her ear.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he promised. Her only answer was to sob louder, reaching over the storm that now cloaked them. His hands reached up to stroke her hair, finding the coils that withheld her longer tresses from sight. ‘Heh, Sevara really outdid herself for you, Lucy,’ he mused. His accolades for their surly mercenary friend would go unsaid...for his benefit.

He let her vent as long as she needed, content to simply hold her again. The rain came down, indiscriminate to their emotions and trials. He heard her sobs diminish to mere whimpers before he dared to speak again,

“It’s alright, we’re both alive, and that’s what counts.” he explained. She pulled away, still within his arms’ hold. Her sudden peck shocked him, but no less than her response.

“Thanks to you,” she praised. Her tone was still a touch hysterical, but there was something else festering beneath it. A certain purr that Owain was all too familiar with...

He stepped back, trying to dissuade her as gently as he could. “T-that’s not necessary.” he insisted. Still, she gave him that look. The same one that oft spoke of long, sleepless nights in whatever forest or ruin he and his Lucina were dwelling in. It was almost merciful when she closed her eye to ponder his words.

“Mmm, maybe not.” she relented, giving him some space. Owain breathed a sigh of relief, leaving his disappointment bottled up. ‘It wouldn’t be right, she’s not MY Lucina and I’m not her...it doesn’t matter.’ the mage was jarred from his moping as he felt her capture his lips again. She broke away before whispering, “But I want to.”

‘This isn’t right,’ Owain thought as he looked into her lidded eye. He had crossed many boundaries with his Lucina, staining battlefields and bedsheets alike in their broken world. Was this cheating? Were these false pretenses? Would he regret this?

Before he could answer that, the sight of blood streaming down her cheek caught his eye. “Hoy there, you should take care of that cut first,” he warned as his hand came up to wipe the copper stain away.

‘Marth’ blinked before reaching up to confirm his words. She winced as her fingers brushed against the open wound on the border of her shattered mask. “I-it’s nothing,” she stammered. Her clandestine cousin would have none of her usual downplaying, however.

“It won’t be nothing if it gets in your eye. Especially with that mask ready to shatter on your nose,” he lectured. The dark mage tore off a part of his tattered cape and presented it to her. “Please, Marth. Time will permit us.”

She looked down at the ruined cape before gingerly taking it “V-Very well, thank you Odin.” with that final word, he turned around to give her some much-needed privacy. The sound of her broken mask clanging to the ground made his heart race.

He knew very well why she was being so secretive. The Brand of the Exalt wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, but they both had their reasons for hiding it. ‘Guess I should count myself lucky this tacky outfit comes with bracers,’ He gave a sardonic chuckle at the thought.

Even with the cloth over her eye, she looked utterly radiant. The faint cuts of battle accentuated her beauty, adding the honed edge of a noble lady that had been reared in a dark future. She hid the brand, but nothing else was withheld from him. It was impossible to deny who she was.

‘Lucina…’

When she engaged him this time, he didn’t push her away. The sweet taste of her lips captivated him, just as his enthralled her. The scent of ash and blood was muted as rain washed them clean. It was so familiar- so beautifully, tragically familiar.

Their hands roamed each other’s bodies, timid against familiar temples. The usually-candid reactions that would come from their partner’s touch was repressed. For him it was the fear that she would turn away if he came on too strong. For her...it was denial. Denial that she could feel this way with anyone other than him .

Still, their wandering palms found purchase against toned muscles. She appraised his abs, brazenly displayed thanks to his garish outfit. His own ministrations were directed to her arm, gingerly pulling away the tattered remains of her sleeves to stroke the skin beneath.

Splash!

Lucina sputtered as a burst of water landed on her head. Not only had it undone the meticulous work that kept her hair bundled tight, but it also reminded them of how...open, their displays of affection were. ‘K-Kissing in an open courtyard where anyone could see us...gods, I haven’t done that since…’

‘Odin’ brought her back from her dark thoughts, holding out his hand and saying, “I think we need to move. Unless you want to take a shower first?” he smirked. He took her half-hearted strike in stride, especially since he knew she’d barely put any force into it.

“Hmph, smart-ass,” she chided him, not able to hide the smile on her face. She accepted his hand, feeling a shiver at how he closed around her palm. ‘H-He even strokes my knuckle the same way!’ she gawked as his thumb rubbed against the space between her pinkie and index finger. Her hand squeezed his tighter in response.

Owain fell in line behind her as she strode over to a covered alcove. “Sit down,” she ordered, directing him to a bench at the edge of the plaza. Owain followed her orders, taking shelter beneath the awning and awaiting her next words.



She pulled off the remains of her coat, letting it drop into a puddle at her feet. Her cousin watched with bated breath as she reached back to undo the wraps of her chest. Her bindings came loose, exposing her bare, petite breasts. ‘Gods, she looks as beautiful as ever ,’ her cousin sucked in air.

It was true, she really was as radiant as he remembered her. Her lithe figure that accentuated her femininity, seamlessly meshing a woman of war into her noble stature. He’d lost count of how many times he’d gotten lost in simply relishing her body, massaging away her numerous burdens and hells without a single attempt at her womanhood.

Lucina swallowed the knot in her throat as she reached down to undo what was left of the dark mage’s pants. His lack of underwear became apparent as soon as his girth flew out and smacked her in the face. She flinched, but was mostly in awe at the meaty dick on her cheek. “I-I. It’s so…”

Owain reached down and cupped her other cheek, gently massaging beneath her eyepatch. “Just take it slow,” he said, his voice lacking its usual bravado. His encouraging words resonated with her, and she slowly placed both her hands around his cock. With a glint in her eye, she began to pump.

Lucina’s hands squeezed his dick, experimenting with how much force should be applied. Her rhythm was slow, methodical. She was reserved, far more than the times he’d shared with his Lucina. Could it have been part of the persona, or...

“You’ve never done this before,” he commented. It wasn’t a question.

Lucina flinched before asking, “Does it show?”

“It’s not like that. You just...just put a little more pressure into your strokes,” he explained. His hands overlapped hers, showing her how much she’d need to offer. At her nod, he backed off and let her take the helm again. “Oh, and mind your teeth,” Owain quickly added as he saw her rearing in.

Startled, she elected to focus on licking. Once she was certain that every inch was coated in drool, Lucina brought herself just over his waiting crown. Her heavy breathing riled him further, causing him to clench his hands. He braced himself for her descent.

She did not disappoint, even if her attempt was far sloppier than usual. The princess coughed as she struggled to take him up to his glans. Owain took pity on his cousin’s plight and gently guided her, preventing her from acting too quickly.

Lucina bobbed her head, reaching a few inches down before pulling back. Her heavy breathing buffeted his loins her leggings squished in the wet dirt, supporting her as she leaned forward on his cock. Her tongue left tepid jabs, never lingering long enough to apply any spit.

The dark mage groaned under her ministrations. There was a refreshing tinge to being under her inexperienced thrall once again. The partners had grown together in that broken world, coming into their own as warriors and lovers as one. What this Lucina lacked in knowledge, she made up for by being so distinct from his own.

The princess withdrew from his dick with a wet pop . She let the slobber strand linger for a moment before laying her tongue back on his girth. Her lips smacked against his shaft, leaving small wet marks that quickly mixed with the rest of her spit.

Owain brought his hand to her head, showing a remarkable degree of restraint. Rather than shake her ragged, he opted to cradle his cousin’s scalp, gently guiding her up and down his dick. He could barely make out her exposed eye, the way that her blue pool shined past a cloud of shock and indignation.

Still, she forgave his trespass and resumed her ministrations. Her hands clenched his knees, bracing her to take another plunge. He did nothing to stop her, only taking the time to brush away a rogue lock of her blue tresses.

Owain grit his teeth as his cousin sucked him off. She was being more daring now, eagerly applying her tongue as she bobbed up and down. It was a familiar sensation...and one that he had gone far too long without. “G-gods, I’m-!”

“Mmph?!”

Lucina had no time to react as his cum started filling her mouth. She desperately swallowed, trying to keep pace with the ever-increasing loads of sperm between her cheeks. Her efforts bore merit, but not without losing a few strands that drooled out of her sealed lips. She was going so fast that she never got a chance to take time and sample his seed.

Pwah!

Owain let go of her head as she pulled off his now-sputtering dick. A single paltry rope managed to strike her cheek before his loins grew still. The dark mage watched as his cousin coughed out what was left, staining the grass with his unborn progeny.

“Not a fan?” he gently asked. Lucina wiped her mouth with her hand before looking up at him.

“I-I’ve never tasted it,” she admitted, attempting to hide the blooming rose on her face. Another sign that spoke unwell of her Owain’s undisclosed fate. For him she was never ravenous, but he could usually tell when Lucina wanted a quick meal in the ruins or the forest.

Owain was once more conflicted about this. He wanted it, wanted her. But this wasn’t the one he knew and loved, and he didn’t even know if she felt the same way. He noticed her rise and quickly offered her another out.

“If you want to stop…” he started, only to be cut off as she placed a finger on his lips.

“I don’t,” she insisted. When she was sure he wouldn’t protest anymore, she extracted her finger. With both hands, Lucina tore her tattered pants, letting the now-useless leggings fall to the side. She was far more tender with her panties, pushing the blue smallclothes to the side and exposing her trimmed pussy.

Her boots crunched on the wet grass as she straddled him. Owain watched her flick her hair, sending water all over as she eyed him. The patter of rain was drowned out by their heavy breathing.

Owain spoke first. “Are you-?” he started, only for Lucina to cut him off.

“I’m not. Just...please be gentle,” she urged him. The vulnerability in that one eye brought back so many memories, so many flickers of pain and melancholy. He knew that look only when she had need of his shoulder. An impartial place away from the eyes of those that needed her finest, where she could discard the titles of ‘Marth’, Exalt, or even just princess.

‘Always’

The word wouldn’t pass his lips, it simply wouldn’t come. Instead he would offer her a resolute nod and a simple yet heartfelt proclamation. “Of course.”

Owain’s hands held her thighs, ready to gently guide her down. She squirmed atop his cock, trying to find the right angle to let it pass into her womanhood. At last she struck right, and accepted his blade into her wet sheath.

He helped her down, spearing his cousin on his dick. Lucina mewled and whimpered as he glided past her walls. Eventually she came to a rest just above his untamed pubes and was allowed to bask in the sensation of fullness.

“Mmmm.” she cooed. Her hips squirmed, eager to begin the instinctual rhythm. Owain was more content to simply relish in her presence. For him this little sheltered bench beneath a rain-battered tree could’ve been the most opulent bedchamber they’d never shared.

Her craving won out, and slowly they began. He guided her, placing only enough pressure on her hips to keep her in place. Her hands were perched on his shoulders, acting as further leverage to bounce on. He left the pace and the actions to her, happily enough to suckle her neck.

‘Lucina,’ he inwardly moaned. She was tighter than he remembered, but that was to be expected. Owain was too focused on the simple act of caressing her to care. He had her back, and that was enough.

Lucina’s knees bounced against the bench, giving her a stable hold to increase her pace. Her hands fell from his shoulders in favor of the wooden back. He groaned at her fingers’ absence, even as he enjoyed the slick constriction of her gushing sex. He took out his disappointment on her perky bosom.

“Ah! M-my breasts-ssssssssss,” she hissed. Owain ignored his cousin, too invested in suckling her like a newborn. Her fingers tightened against the bench as she endured his twofold assault. The wet smacking of their hips grew louder as she increased her pace.

Owain’s hands slipped down from her hips, landing on her sizeable rump. What the future Exalt lacked in her chest, she compensated with her butt. The way it jiggled and bounced as she humped him was a delightful sight. He couldn’t help but give it a nice hearty smack .

Lucina yelped before snapping. “H-hey! Don’t just slap me like...liiiiiiiiieeeee-” her anger quickly petered out as her clandestine cousin massaged her derriere. He pushed her closer, disrupting her rhythm of rut in favor of a brief moment of pure skinship.

Her clit rubbed against his abs, stimulating her to an explosive orgasm. Owain winced as his cousin howled in euphoric pain. Her pussy crushed his dick, greedy for the incestuous seed that had graced her dimensional counterpart.

A flash of lightning illuminated their shelter, giving the two lovers the true picture of their sex. They were both dirty, disheveled. Mired in sweat and shame. But there was more, hidden in their lidded, tearstruck eyes. Relief, lust, passion...and hope.

He struggled against her vice grip, but ultimately fell victim to her sexual suffocation. Owain slammed deep into her pussy with a roar. Lucina was still convulsing in the aftermath of her climax and barely acknowledged the sperm now firing into her.

Rope after rope of her lover’s seed drenched her walls, painting them white on their quest to her womb. His arms flew up to her back, desperately holding her in place. The two cousins were lost to the world as they shared a long-needed exodus to erotic Elysium…

Lucina came down first, heavily panting from the experience. She heard the falling rain, followed by the moan of the wind. From below, her pelvis dripped a slurry of cum and quim.

She tried to move, only to find that something was keeping her firmly rooted in place. Owain’s dick was still firmly within her snatch, no less hard than it had been before their orgasms. Her visible eye widened in disbelief “Y-you’re still?”

His laugh was a curt one, broken by many gasps and pants. Still, she felt a tingle on her spine at his guffaw. ‘H-He’s...it can’t really be him can it?!’ she pleaded.

“Hah...haah...n...never underestimate...the Scion of Dark Legend,” Owain boasted. The blunder of mixing up his two epithets was lost on him as he gave her more of what she craved.

His hands closed around her, causing her to yelp. With some struggle, the dark mage clambered to his feet, carrying his cousin with him. On instinct, Lucina reached up and grabbed the rafters.

“O-Odin what are you-?!” her question was cut short as he thrust deep into her snatch. She groaned and latched onto her support for dear life. Her cousin plowed her from below, causing her to bounce between his dick and her wooden handhold.

Owain’s hips smacked against her. His hands stroked her back, reaching up to her neck. Gently, he pulled her head down to meet his lips.

It wasn’t deep, but it was passionate. Their tongues danced together, playfully snipping each other. Her fingers were too busy digging into the wood, but her calves tightened against him to shower her response.

“Owwwww-diiiiin!” she moaned. He missed her slip of the tongue in favor of nipping at her neck. Her legs squeezed him tighter, robbing him of the space he needed to rut her.

Owain knew he was near his limits. His body might’ve recovered enough to enjoy the dance of decadent delight, but he was still only human. He tried to warn her, not knowing how or even if she would respond. “I-I’m close! Where-”

“O-on me!” she screamed. Her spit landed on his face, but he showed no signs of disgust at the intrusion. When he didn’t immediately pull out and obey, she shouted again. “Cum on my face!”

He heeded her request and withdrew. His cousin dropped to the muddy ground, sinking her knees into the muck. Owain’s hand replaced her pussy, vigorously rubbing his length. The coating of her juices made it easier to stroke himself off.

“I’m-!”

Lucina held her mouth open as rope after rope of hot, sticky cum assaulted her face. Her uncovered eye stared at his exploding cock, admiring the great flesh spear that had churned her insides. Her eye roamed upward, a feat matched by her covered one.

Past his blond forest of crotch hair that had tickled her pelvis and soaked up her quim juices. Up his rippling muscles, now covered in sweat and dirt alongside the mainy cuts and bruises. At last she settled on his unkempt hair and fluttered blue eyes. The vision smeared as a blast of cum caused her watery eye to squeeze shut.

For just a brief second, Odin wasn’t the dark mage that had so callously appropriated her dear partner’s visage. For a solitary glance she could let herself feel like something more than the hero her ruined world had needed, the way only he could make her feel. For a moment she wasn’t haunted by the weight of cradling his still form and fighting back the screams and wails that choked her. At long last she’d found what she wanted ever since she’d first come to this new realm.

She had him back, and that was enough for her.

From this day forth, we're partners. So no more holding back. Feel free to speak in your normal, abnormal way.

Owain looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. He listened to the pouring rain outside, the same storm that they’d copulated in a scant few hours ago. In his arms was the girl he’d longed for ever since they parted ways. Or at least, a girl close to her.

She wasn’t the one that he’d fought alongside, or had held when she needed a shoulder to take off the burden of the troubled world. The one that he’d leapt back in time with and struggled to secure a better future. The one that...that he’d left behind when he accepted that stranger’s plea for aid alongside Inigo and Severa.

And now they were here, his guiding light in the dark. The one that had her image, yet he couldn’t bear to hope was truly her, truly his. But although he was afraid of what she might do, what she might say...Owain was courageous at heart.

He felt her stir in his arms, lazily looking up to him. Her hair concealed her face, at least until she tiredly brushed it back. Owain swallowed the boulder in his throat and looked at her still-closed eye. “Marth... I need to tell you something. I- mph ?!”

He was cut short as she reared up and pecked his lips. She kept their kiss chaste, breaking away after only a single moment. With a tear-laden smile, she removed the bandage over her face, revealing the faded cut...and her branded eye.

“I missed you, Owain.”

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


NOTE - The following work contains a coupling between confirmed blood relations. If that doesn’t interest you, Please be respectful and don’t leave flaming comments disparaging those that want to read it. Thank you.


The night was one of courtly revelry and mirth.

The feast hall had been transformed for the gala, trading its two rows of long tables for a plethora of smaller rounded ones around the boundaries of the room. Arms and armor had been mostly traded for more refined attire as Heroes from all the world's mingled together.

Lilina’s smile threatened to fall off her face a she broke away from her latest dance partner. The Rigelian prince was a stern figure, but she could at least give him credit for his skills as a dancer. Not to mention the curt but respectful bow he gave her before moving on. ‘I wish him the best, even if he’s meant to clash with Alm ’ the young lady prayed. She could tell he was a good soul, if the way his face cleared when telling her about his beloved was a testament.

But the night was young, and Lilina was eager to dance more. With a sashay to the latest song, she made her way through the crowds. She passed Cecilia waltzing with sir Reinhardt, and the knight Frederick leading princess Sheena. Even Ogma had found an unlikely dance partner in the form of the retainer Setsuna.

She was so caught up in people-watching that she barreled right into the man in front of her. “Ah, Fath...sorry, sir Hector.” she curtsied at the man who would one day be her father. One of the few that had been brazen enough to wear his plate, even if he’d been ordered to keep Armads back in his chamber.

Hector looked down, appraising the extravagant gown of his daughter-to-be. “Lady Lilina. You look good,”he smirked, showing the lovely red garment the respect it was due. His usual blunt charm was on full display, even amongst the revelry of his fellow Heroes.

Lilina giggled and did a twirl, showing every inch of the refined attire before continuing, “Aw, thanks! It’s actually based on a dress that mother wore,” she explained.

“Oho? That’s rather interesting,” he admitted. His hand came up to his chin as he silently pondered, ‘Come to think of it, I believe that Lyn mentioned wearing something like that once...or was that Farina?’ he shook his head clear in favor of focusing on what his future daughter was saying.

“It’s so rare to get to enjoy ourselves like this back home,” she explained, her smile taking a more melancholic tone. Her eyes glazed over as she was taken back to the struggling world and the single moment of respite that they’d enjoyed. “I just want to enjoy it while I can.”

“Well I can respect that,” Hector said. Unlike many of his fellow heroes, he hadn’t bothered to scramble off to the archives and didn’t know what was going to happen in his potential future. Such matters simply didn’t interest him, not when he could spend his days fighting and feasting alongside friends both old and new.

The two were silent, far off the fringes of the huddled waltzers. Lilina swallowed the lump in her throat. “Da-” she started, only to be cut off as Hector turned back to her.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, that confident, warm smile back on his face. While it was an inviting beacon in the dimmed light, his daughter felt herself clam up. She timidly shook her head.

“I-I was actually going to get some fresh air,” she meekly explained. Lilina took a few steps back, miraculously not stepping on the hem of her dress P-Perhaps later,” she insisted before turning and fleeing. The brazen marquess was left bemused and befuddled by her sudden retreat.

“What just happened?” Hector mused before shrugging his shoulders. He wouldn’t dwell on it, not when there was still time before dinner. So he turned back into the crowd, aiming to find someone else to waltz with as the next piece started.

“On an ocean of stars…”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” Lilina chanted to herself. Her earlier charm and smile had been discarded in favor of venting the frustration she felt. That had been a cowardly move, and one that could very well have cost her her chance. She stomped her foot down in anger before screaming, “Gah! Why am I so STUPID?!”

She sucked in air, already ashamed of her outburst. It wasn’t proper for a lady to throw tantrums, especially not over something as simple as dancing with their dad. However, her thoughts betrayed her true intentions. ‘But I don't want a dance with my father… I wanted a dance with Sir Hector.’ she blushed at the thought.

The first time she’d seen a picture of Sir. Hector of Ostia had left her...well she’d been instantly enamoured. The portrait had captured every inch of his ferocity and power, hefting an axe she later learned was the Wolf Beil. he was a tower of steel, a monolith of power that had the young girl feeling very funny.

And then Roy had to ruin it by pointing out it was her father.

She never wanted to look at that picture again, going so far as to ‘accidentally’ burn it the first time she got her hand on a fire tome. The scolding she’d had from Cecilia had been only slightly as painful as seeing the young lord’s brash smirk char and crumple to ash. It made for many frustratingly sleepless nights.

Lilina never saw her father as that man, not even after returning to his side for the bitterly short time he was alive. It was as if the marquess had a ghost, a proud, boastful young man that would follow his every step. Even after his passing, she mourned the loss of Hector, Marquess of Ostia...but still pined for the lord that had posed for that picture.

Lilina didn’t realize she was walking until a surprised squeak broke her of her lull. The festooned noble yelped before attempting to curtsy in fealty. “I’m so sorry! I...princess Eirika?”

Sure enough, the princess of Renais was above her, blocked off by a raised hedge wall. Lilina had to move her head up just to make eye contact with Eirika. The teal-headed woman meekly waved and called out, “G-good evening, Lilina.”

“Good evening. I didn’t expect to see you out here,” Lilina admitted. She had figured that her fellow noble would be enjoying the festivities. Her finger went up to her mouth as she mused aloud, “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen prince Ephraim either, and you two are usually near each other.”

“He’s around here somewhere. I-I think,” Eirika admitted. Lilina couldn’t quite make out the lower part of the other woman’s face and struggled to hear the Renais princess. “What about you, Lilina? Shouldn’t you be enjoying the party?”

Lilina flinched as the attention was brought on to her. She looked away from the sword lady’s inquisitive eyes before finally admitting the truth. “I was...until I saw someone,”

“Someone you didn’t want to?” Eirika asked with a tilted head.

“No…” Lilina admitted with a sigh. How could she honestly describe this? ‘I finally met the man that was my first crush, only to get cold feet when he showed me attention. Oh, and did I mention he’s my father?’ Somehow that seemed a bit...off, even in her head.

‘Think Lilina; how would father approach this?

“Eirika, what do you do when you’re lusting for someone?”

The older princess was taken aback by this sudden injury. Her smile was replaced by a look of shock as her cheeks reddened considerably.The best she could muster in response was an airy, “E-e-eh?!”

Lilina went on, ignorant of Eirika’s plight. “I mean, I really, REALLY shouldn’t be feeling this way with my f-friend. I just can’t help myself!” she whined. It was as much to convince herself as her friend, but she didn’t care. So long as someone, anyone knew of the turmoil it’d be enough.

For her part Eirika tried to process this. “Um, well I don’t really know what you should be...I meannnnn…” she trailed off as her hips squirmed. Lilina noticed how distracted the princess was and grew concerned.

“Are you okay, Eirika?”

“Oh I’m fine! I’m just so inv-EHH-sted in trying to help you, that’s all.” she tried to hide what looked like a yawn. Lilina was slightly hurt at the bald-faced lie, but decided to let the matter drop.

“I appreciate that, and I’m sorry to spring this on you,” she apologized with a curtsey. Eirika shook her head before responding.

“Oh it’s quite alright. I’m just sorry i couldn’t help you,” the princess said. Lilina almost barked in laughter at her apology. ‘Sorry I can’t help you seduce your father,’ she mused.

An uncomfortable silence settled on the two, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind. Lilina was trapped in her own loathing thoughts, inching further to the realization she was lusting for her future father. A low rumble snapped her out before she could regret those thoughts and directed her back to the Renais royal.

“S-sorry, I must be getting…hun-hungry!” Eirika explained. Lilina nodded, starting to feel peckish herself. ‘It should be about time for dinner to start...being...served’

“I’ve got it!” Lilina snapped her fingers a beaming smile threatened to split her face. She quickly turned around and left, offering parting words behind her. “Thanks for your advice Eirika!”

“Uuuhh...h-happy to help…”

She arrived after dinner had been properly served. The central crowd had mostly dispersed to the many tables around the perimeter of the feast hall. From the central pits at each table, various suckling meats roasted in preparation to be torn into and readily consumed. “Mmm, I smell turkey,” Lilina licked her lips…

“-! No, stay focused!” she chided herself. She could grab some mouthwatering slices after she sat down. Right now she had her eyes fixed on the desserts spread...

--

Hector waved off Chrom and Roy. The equally-festooned lad had seemed almost eager to depart, especially after Hector himself had hailed him over to join him and Chrom in a hearty drink. ‘I think I got the point across,’ the brash man smugly thought as he pulled off another boar leg. The coal pit in the center of the table warmly glowed in the subdued light.

“There you are, lord Hector.”

The lord looked up from his meal to address who had spoken to him. It turned out to be his future daughter again.

“Lilina! Back from your walk?” he mused as he wiped his face before offering a genuine smile. She smiled back, overlooking the bits of bird in his teeth. He glanced down at the plate in her hands.

She’d clearly made a trip to the dessert table. Her plate had a trio of confections on it. The center was dominated by a souffle, baked to golden perfection. Along the side were a few macaroons, each a different flavor. The last thing were cherries and a small saucer of hot white chocolate.

Hector eyed the platter with amusement. “Got a sweet tooth?” he asked. She put her plate down with a smile.

“Just trying to enjoy myself,” she explained as she pulled her chair out.

“Allow me,” Hector offered as he stood up from his chair to aid her. Lilina held up her dress as he pushed her in. He missed the sight of her ankle-high boot or the curious peek of vibrant red where her bare calf should be.

“Thank you, sir Hector,” Lilina said as she looked back at her future father with a smile. He returned with an honest grin of his own.

“Please, just Hector’s fine,” he insisted before returning to his own place. She used his brief distraction to brace herself and her frayed nerves before offering a nervous smile.

“Whatever you say, Hector,” she said. With that the the two settled into their respective meals. Hector tore into his fresh boar leg as his future daughter drizzled white chocolate atop her souffle.

thwap

The spoon cut through the dough, like an axe against wood. The muted sound caught his ear, directing him towards his future daughter. She paid him no mind as she scooped up a hearty helping of the her souffle and chocolate and brought it to her mouth.

Hector wouldn’t have thought anything more of it if not for the contented moan that escaped her lips. It sounded a bit too... enthusiastic to be chowing down on the sweet treat. Long after she’d gulped down the soggy delicacy, the spoon remained firmly in her mouth. He heard the sounds of her tongue slurping and sucking on the utensil, again far too eager for what she was doing.

Lilina finally withdrew the spoon with a loud pop . She paid her fatherno mind and simply scooped up more of her souffle. He downed more of his mead, trying to move past what he’d just witnessed.

The two ate in relative peace. Hector tore into the boar’s leg, tossin the bones aside once they were picked clean. He was downing some fine Askrian mead when Lilina’s eating habits became uncomfortable again.

Her tongue danced around the soggy treat, scarcely bothering to scoop up her souffle. Hector watched it all, even as he brought his mug higher and higher above him. A little of the milky white chocolate dribbled down, making the unbearably long journey from her fork to her open cleavage.

“Ouch,” she winced at the warm sauce on her sensitive breast. The oaken table shook as her father leapt to her aid, napkin at the ready.

“H-Here!” he shoved his gently used napkin in her hands. Lilina squeaked in shock at his sudden trespass, but accepted his offering with a kind smile.

“Aw, thanks Hector,” she said as she wiped her stained bosom. Her father had already sat back down and was giving her a sense of modesty by looking away. She looked down at her remaining souffle before turning back to Hector . “Here, you want the rest?”

“Sure, why not?,” he quickly accepted. She placed the souffle cup on a tea saucer before handing it to her father. He accepted it, sans the spoon she attempted to give him.

The pastry had lost most of its heat, so Hector was able to just scoop it up with his fork and down it with no fuss. Lilina’s grin widened as she heard the grunts of satisfaction from her father, followed by a hearty gulp .

“I can see why you were so...enthusiastic. This is damn good!” he admitted. It didn’t beat some good old boar, but even he could say this little morsel was delectable...dangerously so.

Lilina nodded as she popped a macaroon in her mouth. There was nothing overtly...disturbing about her consumption of the little cookies. The only thing of note was the crumbs it left on her lips, quickly sucked into her mouth by her greedy tongue. ‘Okay that’s...Why am I out of mead?!’ he lamented.

Hector endured her temptations as she finished off the other four macaroons. Her eating habits didn’t really improve, even as she picked up the last one and bit down in the center. The vanilla filling smeared her lips, leaving streaks of white on her ripe, full...kissable…

WHAM!

Lilina yelped in shock as her father’s fist crashed onto the table. The impact was so loud that the people at the nearby tables turned to him in alarm. She swore the music actually stopped.

“...There was a bug,” Hector shrugged as he leaned back. The tablecloth almost masked the crater his meaty palm had left behind. The other tables quickly left them be, none of them intent to draw the prolonged attention of the brazen lord.

His future daughter swallowed the knot in her throat as she mulled her options. On the one hand it was clear that her enticing acts were having an effect. On the other, Hector had shown that he wasn’t going to humor her antics quietly. ‘That only makes sense for father…’ she mused.

Still, she was truly Hector’s daughter. Even if she preferred to be kind and somewhat demure, that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the occasional quip or barb. It was in her blood. She just needed to know when would be the best time to strike.

Hector finished the souffle and set the plate aside. He was about to carve out a heaping helping of suckling boar from the pit when Lilina struck again. The future father felt his brow twitch as he watched her dip some cherries in the chocolate sauce and popped them in her mouth.

The young lady shuddered in delight, relishing the sweet taste of chocolate and cherry. She rolled the round little fruit on her tongue, scooping up the warm sauce to be stored for her next strike. Her teeth captured the stalk as she pulled the thin wick free.

Her hands were already preparing the next offering. Two more cherries were dropped in the saucer. His future daughter rolled the stalks around between her fingers. Once she was satisfied, she pulled them out, showing Hector the glazed white fruits.

Lilina brought the white-whipped cherries to her mouth and opened wide. Her father saw the pale chocolate sauce still waiting on her tongue. The way it slightly bubbled as it cooled between her lips was the last straw.

Hector stood up, pushing the heavy table and fire pit aside. “Pardon me, Lady Lilina,” he curtly apologized before storming off...

“The hell is that girl doing?!” Hector grumbled to himself. He was honestly thankful that he had attended in armor. It made his arousal easy enough to hide, even if it was uncomfortable as hell and hard to walk around..

“Now what am I gonna do about this? ” he growled as he looked to his groin. He could just find a bush and grapple with himself...but that wouldn’t really fix his current problem.

Hector didn’t really let the existence of his future daughter faze him. Perhaps one day she’d be his little girl that he would use Armads to bat away any moron that tried for her hand. But today she was just a noble lady...a rather fetching one in fact.

“ARGH! Damnit!” the future marquess roared as he slammed his fist into a nearby column. His knuckle stung from the impact, but otherwise the most damage was done to the column. His mind was instead focused on who he could go to about this...peculiar problem.

“Should be around here somewhere…” he muttered.

“Hector?!” the Renais twins shouted in tandem.

He found his targets under a blanket on the outskirts of the grounds. The two were sitting next to each other, clearly enjoying the night sky. A night that was sadly interrupted by the sudden arrival of the big man himself.

“Evening. You got a moment?” he asked as he leaned against the wall. His characteristic grin was gone, a fact that Ephraim picked up on. Still, the prince was far too annoyed to humor his sparring buddy.

“This is hardly the time for another bout, Hector,” he growled. Ordinarily he’d be more than thrilled at the chance to fight, especially the man who’d become a comrade-in-arms. But this was a night reserved for bonding with his dear sister. Her happiness trumped his thirst for battle.

The axe-swinger crossed his arms. “I actually need some advice from your sister,” he admitted. This came as a shock to the twins, Eirika more so than her brother.

“M-me?” she pointed to herself, making sure he was completely sure. The curt nod was all the proof she needed, and her hand fell back to its place on her covered lap. ‘Why me?’ she wondered.

Hector looked genuinely uncomfortable, but pressed on. “Yeah, it’s about this...let's say friend.”

Oh Gods not again!’ Eirika wailed. ‘First Lilina, now her father! What is with this family?!’

Ephraim seemed to sense his sister’s discomfort and interjected. “Wait, stop,” he ordered, cutting the other lord off. “Let me guess - your ‘friend’ has another friend that they’re getting close to and it feels wrong?”

“That’s the gist of it,” Hector admitted, his frown even deeper now. Much like with Chrom, this was the last conversation he wanted to have with a brother in arms, especially Ephraim. Eirika was one thing, at least she seemed to be okay with this emotional guff.

The man continued, “She’s also acting a little too overt for...his tastes,” Hector admitted. Ephraim sighed at this revelation. Eirika was silently watching, morbidly curious of what her brother’s idea of advice would be. It wasn’t because she was secretly curious...not at all.

“...And what would be the problem with just going up to her and telling her how you feel?”

His sister smacked him, a look of anger and embarrassment on her face. ‘Ephraim you dolt!’ she mentally balked. Now Hector would get defensive and clam up and she’d never get to hear the bigger man’s true feeli-

“That’s the problem. I WANT to take her tight little ass and-”

“Oh!” Eirika squeaked. She hadn’t expected him to be so brazen. It made her more than a little flustered, much to her brother’s ire. Ephrahim offered her a comforting squeeze before impatiently looking back to his comrade in arms.

“Right. The point is, I want to indulge her antics. But would that really be proper, given the circumstances of Askr?” Hector wondered aloud.

“Should I have the answer for that?” Ephraim challenged him. This was far too odd of a conversation between the two men. Luckily for him, Hector seemed to have come to his own decision.

“Maybe not...but I know I do,” he declared.

Lilina was pacing the foyer, concern clearly clouding her face. She’d attempted to follow Hector as quickly as she could, only to be barred as the Summoner led some heroes in an eclectic line dance from his world. Admittingly it was comical to see all those finely dressed lords, ladies, and distinguished nobles attempting to not trip over themselves as they ‘rode the train’. By the time she escaped the chain of bemused or bewildered heroes, her father was long gone.

“Stupid stupid stupid...gah!” Lilina kicked the ground in frustration, wincing when her foot throbbed slightly from the impact. ‘Good thing I chose to wear my boots tonight,’ she sighed.

There was little point in sticking around. The grounds of Fólkhalla were vast. She had almost no chance of seeing her father again tonight to apologize for her actions.

She didn’t hear him striding up to her until he was practically on top of her. Lilina turned in surprise to see the clambering, armor-clad form of Hector. She overlooked his determined glare as she beamed, “Fath- ump?!

She tasted metal as his gauntlet-garbed finger pressed down on her lips. Her father looked down on her wide eyes as he growled. “No more of that. For the rest of the night...”

Lilina felt her surprise spike as he leaned in, she saw the gleam in his eyes, making her shudder as her legs squeezed together. He breathed into her ear as he said three sweet words that made her practically cream herself on the spot.

“-Call me daddy.

Lilina’s heart was in her throat as they crossed the threshold. Sure it was a storeroom rather than a lavish bed chamber, but the same jitters applied. ‘At least there’s a couch in here,’ she noted amongst the tables and chairs.

Hector paid such factors no mind, not when he had a bewitching little mynx in his beefy arms. He lowered her to the ground, giving her a moment to collect herself. She looked at at him, her eyes shining with adoration and lust. “Daddy...” she whispered, a scant few inches below her father’s husky breath.

Suddenly she was above him, reaching down to capture her father’s lips. He held her up, causing her feet to dangle just above his armored calves. She felt one of his hands grope her ass, giving it a few squeezes from above her layers. Lilina moaned into his mouth, her eyes fluttering under his ministrations.



Lilina struggled to pull of any part of her extravagant gown. It was a fruitless endeavor. After all it had taken almost an hour for her to slide into this damn thing, and that was with two maids to help her. ‘I-I have to do this, somehow…’ she steeled herself, even as frustration started to set in.

Feeling her daddy’s firm hands on her shoulders made the girl tense up. “Allow me,” he growled into her ear, causing his future daugter to squirm with every heavy word. His fists came together to the cutout in her collar

Riiip

Lilina blinked as she felt felt a chill on her shoulders. Hector had ripped open the top of her dress, detaching it from her puffed collar and leaving her sleeves to slowly fall down her arms. With a few shakes, her daddy dropped the now-useless garment to her feet. That just left the Ostian heiress in her boots...and the surprisingly racy lingerie.

Hector took one look at her choice of small clothes and smirked “O-ho?” he intoned, taking clear delight in her squirming beneath his gaze. The white bra and panties were expected, but the rest was not. “Red stockings and garters? How bold...and naughty, my dear daughter…” he growled.

“D-daddy…” Lilina wilted under her father’s gaze, her hands instinctively coming up to her chest. He paid it no mind, instead gently pulling her arms apart to better look at her choice of negligee.

The stockings went up to her thighs, ruby sheer with little decorations of hearts dotted around. Her knees were exposed thanks to some cutout gaps. An odd choice for such intimate apparel, but Hector wasn’t going to pry. Her garter belt was aesthetically underwhelming, only significant in its presence.

Her father stroked her arms, causing Lilina to shudder. “Tell me; who were you planning to show these to?” he asked. His tone was low, but clearly teasing in a brutish fashion. Still, her cheeks blossomed as he continued, “Who was going to claim the last dance of my feisty little girl?”

He didn’t give her a chance to speak, instead pulling her back up for another sloppy kiss. Lilina mewled under his attack, and outright whimpered when he pulled away. “Well no matter, it’s mine now,” he declared before setting her back down.

His little girl wasn’t gonna take her father’s teasing lying down however. Her hand instantly went for his smooth codpiece. “Is this mine?” she asked in her best attempt to sound sultry.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” he countered back. His words boldend her, and she gave her own brash smile right back. It didn’t come quite as naturally as it did for her father, but it was the thought that counted.

LIlina sunk to her knees before Hector. Her fingers reached around him to undo the clasps of his codpiece, causing it to fall to the ground with a thunk . Her attention then went to the visible tent in his trousers, an expected outcome from their gallivanting. ‘Here goes,’ she thought as she pulled open his pants.

She didn’t expect the sudden attack on her face. Lilina yelped in pain as something long and hard slapped her cheek. The force sent her reeling, causing her to dazedly look up at her father’s cock. “E-eh?”

Armads might’ve been his legendary weapon, but it was NOTHING compared to the axe her daddy had in his pants. Her dainty hand barely even wrapped around half of his girth, and she could feel her palm cramping already. “W-where am I even gonna fit this?”

“Why don’t we start here?” he suggested as he brought her face up to his girth. Her eyes darted up to his calm face and back to his twitching dick. The intent was quite clear. And she was terrified.

As if sensing her fear, Hector calmly and gently stroked her head. “Just start slow,” he suggested, making no further moves to push her closer. When she reared up to tentatively lick him, it was of her own volition. “That’s the way,” he groaned.

Lilina traced her tongue along her father’s cock, painting the totem that she’d one day be shot from. Her earlier trick with the spoon and the cherries had been in preparation for all this. While it hadn’t done much for her frayed nerves, she could take each moan and growl from her daddy and use it as motivation.

Their lovenest was silent, save for the muffled sounds of the outside party and the private festivities within. Hector’s hand landed on her head, his armored glove getting tangled in his daughter's locks. LIlina whimpered under the sudden weight, but pressed on. She had every intention of showering her daddy with all the love and adoration his little girl could muster.

She took a deep breath before sucking in his glans. Her deep dick kiss roused a surprised grunt from her father. ‘She’s certainly bolder than I gave her credit for… ’ He mused.

‘This is a lot harder than a spoon,’ Lilina thought. Her full attention was devoted to servicing his mighty weapon. She fought her urge to cough every second as she bobbed her head on his shaft. Drool escaped her lips as she struggled.

While Hector could admire here enthusiasm, there was no denying her limits. The inexperience she showed was both a boon to the outrageously minute part of him that still looked on her as a daughter...and also a bane to him as a virile, hungry warrior.

He waited until she pulled away. As she gasped for breath, Her father asked a simple question, “Do you trust me?” his serious tone took her by surprise, and it took her some time to respond.

“O-Of course I do.”

“Then Stand up,” he ordered. Lilina was still confused, but ultimately followed his wishes. Her hands let go of his cock as she stood at attention. Satisfied, Hector grabbed her hips and looked her square in the eyes.

She didn’t expect him to lift her up and turn her upside down.

“Wahh?!” she yelped as her head spun. Any concerns of falling on the floor were mitigated by her father’s firm grip on her hips. Her hair dropped down, barely touching the carpet beneath her. His cock was pressed against her chin. Her modest bosom were squished against his breastplate

Hector lifted her up, bringing her damp panties up to his nostrils. His act wound up levying his erection against her stunned face. He relished the forbidden smell of his daughter’s sex. Like a berserker, he struck.

Lilina screamed as her father’s tongue lashed against her clothed mound. She squirmed in his ironclad grip, accomplishing little. She struggled to protest, barely squeaking out, “L-let me take my pant-teeeeeee?!”

At her words, he pulled away as if seriously contemplating her request. “Nah, too much time,” He shrugged before going back on the offensive. Lilina’s hands squeezed his cock as she buckled under his lascivious tongue. Her legs kicked furtively around his shoulders.

‘What can I do? What can I do?!’ she panicked. Her hands squeezed his dick, eliciting a rumbling groan from her future father. Realization dawned on her face, along with a winced smirk as the blood flowed into her head.

She started to attack his cock with renewed vigor, lavishing it with all manner of kisses and licks. Her teeth lightly nibbled on his shaft, rolling the carnal flesh between her teeth.

Her hands weren’t idle either. One palm now squeezed and pulled on his shaft, covering the parts her mouth couldn’t. Her other hand cupped his balls and fondled them.

Hector groaned under her ministrations, interrupting his tongue work. He felt his release rapidly approaching and was determined that he wouldn’t be leaving her behind. With that determination, he resumed his assault on her pussy.

“Aah! N-not so ro-ooooh,” she moaned. He ignored her pleas in favor of biting her panties. With a quick jerk, he pulled them aside and exposed her glistening honeypot. She felt her father’s tongue pierced her folds before euphoria consumed her.

“AAAAH!”

Her screech shattered the silence of their retreat. Her hands clamped down on his cock, eliciting a climactic roar. The incestruous duo were brought to orgasm just as the doors of the great hall thundered open outside.

Lilina flinched as a rope of jizz shot across her face. She turned her head to avoid anymore of his potent procreation projectiles. A few shots did still manage to smear her hair however. The rest shot far across the chamber, nearly reaching the opposite wall.

The two came back to their senses, still aloft thanks to Hector’s towering physique. Her father gently placed her down, making sure her feet were firmly planted before he let go of her. His long-sought orgasm left him briefly winded. The towering man collapsed onto the nearby couch with a loud grunt.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. The subdued rabble of the gala still reached from beyond their isolated little storeroom. He missed his daughter shuffling around until she finally spoke up.

“Can I…”

Hector cracked an eye open, his attention immediately grabbed. Lilina had discarded her panties, exposing the trimmed patch of blue muff just above her dripping pussy. That just left her in the garter and the stockings, a perfect contrast to her paternally-inherited hair and her smooth, supple skin.

“Can I sit on your lap, daddy?” she asked with a lusty smile. The tone she used was not the kind that should be shared between a father and daughter. But the circumstances of Askr had brought them together at the peak of sexual furor. Stations and attachments were of no consequence to them.

“Anything for my little girl,” Hector growled as he patted his thigh. His earlier reservations had evaporated, leaving only the warped sense of pride mixed with his carnal cravings. So when his future daughter hopped onto his bare groin, he welcomed her eagerly.

his gauntlets groped her breasts, the cold metal of his hands causing her to whine and whimper. Her dripping pussy grinded against his mighty loins, mixing quim into the layer of spit. He smelled her hair, relishing the buffet of floral aromas that could be found in her tresses.

“Dadddyyy…” she mewled, craning up with an expectant look. Her father complied and took her lips for a soft yet passionate kiss. She happily rubbed her butt against his lap as her eyes fluttered. She couldn’t imagine it getting any better…

“Eep!”

Her calves tightened down on his cock, preventing him from probing her entrance any further. She didn’t mean for it to happen. But any attempts to lax her frayed nerves ended in failure.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Hector assuaged her, raising a hand from her chest to stroke her cheek. Despite his cravings, he couldn’t stand to see a woman that looked so scared. Her being his future daughter had no consequence on that. “We’ll take it slow alright?”

Lilina nodded, but her legs stayed firmly shut. His dick was trapped between her pussy and her thighs, making it impossible for her to be penetrated. Still, her father did have his moments of tact and inspiration.

“Hmm, i’ve got an idea,” he declared. Hector moved his hands to her shoulders, giving the tensed muscles a much needed massage.

“Mmm” Lilina cooed. She felt her stress pour away under her father’s touch. The metal pads still left goosebumps, but his surprisingly deft handiwork overcame the discomfort. His blunt nature translated surprisingly well into working through the knots in her shoulders.

She was so wrapped up in his massage that she barely noticed what else was going on. Hector had begun to thrust his dick against her. When his shaft brushed past her pussy lips, it sent a jolt up her spine that broke the wall of warmth. “D-daddy what are-?

He cut her off with a quick peck of the lips. Lilina felt her concerns wiped away as they kissed. His hands and cock continued their acts above and below. He broke away, staring at the flushed face of his future daughter. “Just let your daddy handle this alright?” he whispered.

His daughter whimpered in response. He took that as her fealty and doubled his efforts. Her legs pinned his cock, keeping him from accidentally missing her pussy lips. The feminine nectar that was dripping out smeared his girth.

Hector’s hands reached down to cup her breasts again.he tweaked her nipples, causing her to moan and excrete more quim juices. Hector noticed her leaning into his cock, grinding her mound on her father’s loins. “You feel so gooood…” Lilina mewled.

“You’re just dripping on it…” he smirked. Hearing her whine was making his already-hard cock throb in anticipation. He opted to test her first “Tell me what you want,” he ordered.

“I-I want it.”

“Oho?” he asked, not quite sure if he heard her. His hands ceased their ministrations as he leaned in. “What was that?”

“I-I...I” she stuttered.

“Yeeees?”

“I WANT YOUR FAT COCK SHOVED IN MY NAUGHTY PUSSY, DADDY!” LIlina screamed. Hector winced at his ringing ears. But he obliged her. His little girl’s legs opened freely as he prodded her entrance. He slid in smoothly thanks to her gushing juices. “Mmm, Daaaad-eeeee.”

His daughter squirmed atop his dick, desperate to take more of father’s forbidden flesh. He grabbed her hips and started to thrust into her greedy pussy. His back shifted up from the couch as he leaned into his little girl.

Her ass slapped against his lap, causing wet claps to resonate around their dim lovenest. Their duet of debaucherous dulcet tones found a rhythm beyond any piece that had been played tonight. “I-It’s incredible daddy! I want moreee!” she sang.

Hector said nothing, but obliged her wishes. His thrusts doubled as he hammered into her sopping wet twat. Sweat flew off her body. Her hair was an utterly disheveled mess.

“HAAAAA-RDERRRRR” she screamed, spit flying out of her mouth. Her hands gripped the edge of his greeves as she struggled to increase his pace.

‘Gods she’s insatiable’ Hector gawked. He couldn’t go any faster while he was pinned to this couch. He needed somewhere to really let his hips cut loose...but where?

His eyes roamed the darkened room, picking out every prospective spot they could move their debaucheries to. He ultimately settled on one of the long tables that normally lined the feast hall. ‘That could work,’ he decided.

“AAH!”

Lilina’s climax soaked into the cushions. Hector grit his teeth at her pussy’s grip, yet overpowered it with sheer will. His arms wrapped around her spasming body before he pulled himself to his feet.

If anyone stumbled upon the incestuous union, they would’ve been treated to the humorous sight of Hector of Ostia, in near full plate, waddling across the room. Less comical was his future daughter, bare of all but her lingerie and firmly planted on his dick. And yet the risks of being caught were too far from their minds.

He reached the table and placed her over it. She struggled to grab the table top, but ultimately fell forward. Her father's quick reactions kept her from flopping down tit-first onto the unforgiving stone. Still, the sudden impact did leave her briefly winded.

“What my little girl wants, my little girl gets,” Hector growled, sending a delightful shiver down her back. With that promise, he began plowing her again.

Lilina gave up on trying to prop herself up and resigned to having her breasts squeezed against the table. Her tongue lulled out as her cheek rubbed on the stone.

Hector grabbed her arms and pulled back, forcing her head off the stone top. She screeched, sending her drool down onto the polished white table. Hector used his new leverage to demolish her twat.

“G-gods yeeeesssss,” she babbled. Her mind was total mush now, much like the long digested souffle. Her father’s mighty girth hit every erogenous spot as it sawed in and out of her pussy. “I-I’mmmmm!”

“LILINA!”

His dear daughter was too far gone to hear him, drowning in an ocean of orgasmic bliss. She could do nothing but scream as her womb was painted white by Hector’s seed...

Grooooan.

Lilina looked down from her place on Hector’s chest. She wasn’t amused at his stomach’s rude intrusion. Her future father had the decency to look sheepish even as he argued, “We just fucked like a pair of crazed rabbits. What do you think was gonna happen?”

His daugher opened her mouth to protest, only for her own stomach to growl first.

“Hah!” Hector barked with laughter. It would’ve been a cute moment if not for the utterly depraved mess that had been smeared on the couch, floor, and table. Even his precious little girl was utterly plastered in her future father’s spunk.

“You’re so mean to me, daddy,” she huffed as her lips scooped up her siblings with an angry smack. The cute look of anger on her face was a stark contrast to her lewd state. Her father’s guffaw died down as he wiped away the tears in his eyes.

“Maybe so-” he admitted. His grin turned mischievous as he pulled her back into his chest. Her yelp of shock was followed by her delighted moans at his touch. -but I’ll always give my little girl what she deserves.”

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


NOTE - The following work contains a coupling between confirmed blood relations. If that doesn’t interest you, Please be respectful and don’t leave flaming comments disparaging those that want to read it. Thank you.


“I...I have a son?”

The look of melancholic shock on Deirdre’s face wasn’t one that should be on a woman’s face, especially not one of her...circumstances. Still, Anna had to perform her role as the commander, and that was specifically about getting any possible Heroes up to speed about their newfound temporary home. ‘At least the tour was easier this time,’ Anna sighed.

“That’s correct Deirdre. I haven’t quite read the full accounts, but I do know that you have at least one family member here already,” she explained. “His name is Seliph, and you can find his quarters in the Silfr wing.”

“I...see.” the mother sighed. That was fairly close to her own chambers in the hall of marglóð. She fell further into her chair as her mind swirled. ’I have a son...and I can see him? How old is he? What has he been through?’

‘...Does he even want me?’

“I know this is a lot to take in, especially given your memory loss,” Anna calmly explained. The commander could tell that Deirdre needed a little more than sympathetic words. ‘What to do, what to do…’ she thought to herself.

‘...I’ve got it!’

Deirdre watched as the woman behind the desk snapped her fingers. She quickly jotted something down and handed it to the confused mother. “You know where the archives are, yes?” Anna asked as she dropped her quill back in the ink pot.

The amnesiac woman took the paper and blinked. “I...think so?”

Anna clicked her teeth before pressing on, “Well I wrote the location down. Go there and find a Robin. Ask one of them to lead you to the section written under the grandmaster Kaagah and look for books revolving around the years before Seliph’s birth.”

The mother gave a grateful smile and got up to leave. However, Anna stopped her for one last warning, “Deirdre, what you find in those books...I don’t really know how you’ll take them. But please keep in mind that you can’t be tied down to that past, not anymore.”

Anna continued, “As long as you remain here in Askr, you’re in contract with the Order of Heroes. When that contract is annulled, you’ll be sent back to your world, exactly where you left off, and with no memories of what you learned here.”

It was a rote repeat of the ‘welcome to Askr’ speech, the one that Anna had memorized down to every pause and syllable. But this time emphasis was paid specifically to the part about burying grudges and past misconceptions, and to the finite time they’d have there.

Deirdre listened to the commander’s speech, paying more attention to her superior’s words now that she was more cognizant. The amnesiac didn’t miss the emphasis being placed on certain tidbits. At some point, it was going to become likey that she’d have to ally with whoever had done...whatever had happened to her.

“I-I understand.”

Anna watched the distressed woman leave her office, only offering her response once the doors creaked shut. “I really hope you do.”

Deirdre’s legs screamed as she finally reached the section of the archives she would need. She clutched the side of the nearest bookshelf, struggling to catch her breath. “H-he wasn’t kidding… next time I come here, I’ll pack some water,” she panted as she recalled the tactician's warning.

The amnesiac waited a few minutes to collect herself before heading into the smaller hall. Compared to the long, long chamber that made up the hub of the World Archives, the wing for Jugdral’s history was much smaller. However, it was also a lot darker.

Deirdre walked in, flinching when the heavy doors slammed shut behind her. The smell of old books and worn wood filled her nostrils. She heard the creaking of the overhead chandeliers as well as...the shuffling of cloth? “I-Is anyone in here?”

Her ears picked up the sound of frantic whispering. Tepidly, the amnesiac mother walked to the bookshelf to hear better. “Is someone there?”

“Oh hello, we didn’t know anyone else would be in here,” a man answered back. He sounded composed, with a noticeable edge to his cordialness. She ignored that facet and pried fhrther.

“We?” Deirdre asked her mysterious new friends.

“W-we were trying to find a book that was taken from our world’s archive.” a second voice answered. Lighter in pitch and softer, more feminine.

“Of course, the Robins mentioned that happens,” Deirdre nodded. It had been rather comical to see the gender-split duo quibbling about who kept doing it. “Oh! Where are my manners?My name is Deirdre. My memories...they're mostly gone, now.” she explained.

Her mysterious companions were silent, but Deirdre heard the creaking of wood and the shuffling of armor plates. The first to respond was the man.

“I am Ephraim, crown prince of Renais.” he proclaimed. His declaration was disciplined and refined, every syllable fitting of his royal authority. Conversely, his companion was less overt.

“A-and I am princess Eirika.”

“You are his betrothed?” Deirdre blurted before slapping her mouth shut. It just seemed to match, but she shouldn’t be so brazen as to presume.

“I-I-I..No! He’s my brotherrr.” Eirika moaned. Her tone sounded irate and..something else. The amnesiac wasn’t going to tread.

“Oh, well that’s nice.” The mother said. She recalled why she was here in the first place and looked back at her list. ‘I need books from the first generation...okay,’ she nodded to herself. “Um, what numerals are on that side?” Deirdre asked.

“One,” Ephraim bluntly said.

‘Well that was a stupid question,’ Deirdre winced. Still, it answered her question of where she would’ve needed to go to find the books she required. “So i need to go over to that side...” she sighed before turning to start the unbearably long walk down the row.

“Wait.”

The prince's commanding voice caused her to freeze with a squeak. As if sensing her compliance, he continued, “You have a list, don’t you?”

“What Eprahim means is why don’t we help you?” Eirika explained. “It’d save you the hassle of having to go to the end of the row in order to turn around and come back up.”

Deirdre saw the logic in the princess’s words and immediately accepted. “Oh, that would be nice. Thank you.”

The mother pulled out Anna’s list, smiling as she heard the contrasting calls of “You’re welcome.” from the siblings.

“So the first book i’m looking for is The Girl of the Forest …”

Seliph was frustrated.

His triumphant return from their latest mission should’ve been a celebration, especially since they’d all come back alive. He’d been grateful for the aid of Reinhardt, if somewhat perturbed to be fighting alongside a man that had fought against his cousin. The thief Gaius had also been helpful, if only for drawing their foes closer to the kill. But it was the last and most familiar that had caused him his strife.

Ayra’s departure had granted the young prince the pleasure of watching her go. The warrior woman’s slitted dress offered her unparalleled dexterity in battle, but also left little to the mind’s fancy. If the sight of her naked thighs weren’t enough, the clearly defined curvature of her ass left him with a somewhat more pressing matter to attend to.

And attend to it he did. An empty chamber served as his den of shame. With his pants around his ankles, the young lord was huddled in a corner, away from the flickering light. His hands no longer gripped his silver sword in favor of his more personal weapon of masculinity.

Seliph grunted, rubbing his engorged dick as he tried to work himself to release. It would be shameful to leave his seed on some filthy rag or darkened corner, but no less so than walking the halls with his arousal on display. To aid in his endeavor, his mind brought forth alluring musings. Not flights of fancy and wishes, but rather the recollections of his past conquests.

The war to liberate Jugdral had been a stressful time, and lust had been a l ingering comfort long before the first blooms of love. Especially a fight being waged by young, virile men and women that carried the fear of execution or capture with every laborious step. The Scion of light was no different. Hence, Seliph had no shortage of moments to call upon in his attempts to grapple with his carnal conundrum.

He shifted between the ladies, briefly conjuring the sight of their nubile bodies and the circumstances that had drawn them together. Plundering the thief in the shrine’s treasury, or causing his pious friend to shriek within the consecrated chapel. Taking the pegasus knight against the trees of a thick forest, or even that drunken night of shame and regret with his cousin’s lover-to-be.

He cherished those four, but they didn’t hold him like those two did. The daughter of the proud warrior who’d riled him so, the same lass that had shared meals, blades, and sheets with on multiple occasions. But though he cherished their bonds, she didn’t hold him either, not the way that his last and most verboten one did. “Julia…”

As his cum flowed freely, he never heard the door open. Nor the sudden gasp, or the door’s swift closure...

‘I saw my own son’s penis.’

Those are the words that raced through Deirdre’s mind as she stepped into her private washroom. Her distraction as she had been walking back to her room had wound up being a double-edged sword. On the one hand, she finally saw her now grown-up son in the flesh. Conversely, she saw him in the shameful state of grappling with his own dick. After that she’d ran back to her room, her cheeks threatening to burst into flames.

Her rank as a marglóð permitted her a spacious suite of chambers, including a large bathing area. The amnesiac mother wiped away the sweat on her brow, not sure if the source was her flustered state or the confines of the steamy chamber. One look at the nearby mirror portrayed a tired, disheveled woman. A woman who desperately wanted to enjoy her new arrangements.

She cast away the satchel of tomes, followed by her violet coat and sash. Her flowing dress was brought overhead before being placed gently on a nearby rack. She reached down to unclasp her soppy bra, causing her swollen breasts to bounce free. Last to go was her panties, sliding down her full legs to the ground.

Now bare, Deirdre took some time to appraise her supple figure in the nearby mirror. Her hands roamed her soft form, finding no such place that offered resistance. Absentmindedly, she reached up to cup her jiggling teats. Firm, erect nipples pointed out at a somewhat drooping angle. The body of a lord-wife.

One look would’ve confirmed her matron status. Muscle had been traded for soft skin and bleached to an almost unhealthy tone. Her breasts drooped, burdened by gravity and her newborn’s drink. It was all too clear that she was a trophy. A well-loved and tended one, but nonetheless a porcelain figure.

Deirdre sighed, lamenting such a sight. She’d compared herself to the other heroes she’d seen walking around, and found herself to be wanting. ‘I shouldn’t need a rest every time I walk down these halls,’ she lamented. With those thoughts swimming in her head, she walked around the modest wall and beheld her personal bathtub.

Truthfully, It was less of a tub and more of a heated pool, one deep enough to come up to her thighs. Flanking the divider wall was a pair of fountains that constantly cascaded into the bath. Around the center of the pool was a rainfall shower, far wider and more lavish than the one offered to lesser ranked Heroes. A large mirror reflected the width of the tub, showing the barest peaks of her wide arched windows. The far end had a long bench that allowed people to sit in the water and soak in the ambience and company.

Deirdre was stunned at this opulent display. Even without her memories, she was fairly confident that none of the baths from Jugdral could compare to this. And despite how much smaller the marglóð wing was, there was still around a hundred quarters for the most powerful Heroes in the order.

With tepid steps, the amnesiac stepped into the bath. She waded through the water, intent to reach the center and use her luxurious shower. A cascade from above, and two geysers shooting from the sides. She was truly immersed in a cleansing embrace.

The mother moved slowly, almost lethargic in her attempts to clean herself. Soap was placed and left to wash off rather than be wiped. Her hair hung down in languid-toned curtains, matting to her bare chest. She lathered her hands with shampoo, then left it to be washed away as her palms rubbed in aimless circles.

‘This is all happening so fast,’ Deirdre thought. ‘First I get shot out that...thing, next I’m being told I’ve been contracted to fight in a war across ages and worlds.’ She leaned into the twin spouts, still not at all concerned with cleansing herself. Her thoughts raced forward to more pressing and intimate affairs.

‘I...I have a son, who’s now a man that fights for the Order. I saw him...I saw his...I saw his penis,’ she shuddered at the thought. How twisted was it that the first sight of her boy wasn’t his face, but his dick?

The water dripped down her body, washing away the dirt. Her hands reached up to cup her chest. They were swollen with maternal love, deprived of the young prince and princess that craved their mother’s teat.

Yet she knew none of that. She didn’t know anything - her children, her past.

“...But I know how to find out,” she declared as she stepped away from the shower.

She didn’t bother with a towel, letting the rivers of hot water drip down onto the tile floor. Slipping and falling were the furthest things from her mind as she walked back to recover her satchel.

She re-entered the bathing area and walked over to the far side this time. Deirdre sat on the submerged bench and opened her bag. She had three books to choose from; two that featured her past and her role with the man named Sigurd, and the last was about their son. She’d taken it on a whim, despite only having two entries to focus on. “Where do I even start?” she mused.

On the one hand, these two books carried her history. Her early days in the forest and meeting Prince Sigurd, and the other about...something. Something that Anna had been reluctant to answer for. But on the other hand, this one book contained her son’s past.

Her mind was made up, and she opened the heavy tome.

Light Inheritors - the Dawn of the Liberation

"The intense battle over control of the capital sent most of the powerful lords to their grave. Only Lord Arvis' plan went without a hitch as he successfully gained full control of the kingdom…"

Deirdre read on, confused and saddened by this apocalyptic log. Names and kingdoms that she didn’t understand were subjugated to the rule of tyrants and turned on by their own rulers. She felt the pain and sorrow of these poor people. And then she reached the end of the prelude and turned the page.

"Among the army of young soldiers was one who the Isaacian citizens referred to as 'the Bringer of Light'. He was also revered as the Imperial Prince of Grannvale. He was the young leader of the liberation army. His name was... Seliph.”

Those simple words were paired with a portrait of the Imperial Prince. The illustration painted a far more noble picture than the one she’d bore witness to with her own eyes. Her son looked...well, like a true hero. Back straight, feet firmly planted, and with a resplendent sword drawn and ready.

It was by all means an innocuous sight, one lacking in any form of sexual intent. But for Deirdre, bogged down with the weight of her circumstances… he looked utterly captivating. Her mind could protest all it wished, needle her with the platitude of familial bond. Without any sort of recollection of rearing him, the mature woman saw her son for what he was: a man.

What her mind had forgotten, her body retained. Her fingers drifted beneath the water, down to her quivering sex. She flinched slightly as her digits hit the patch of languid pubes. It seemed so...contrasting, to her otherwise pampered and primped form. “Have I...have I never shaved down there?” she mused.

She wasted no further attention to her lack of presentation, not when her digits finally reached her vaginal slit. Deirdre suppressed a hiss as she blindly stroked past her clitoral hood. Her free hand flew up from the precariously perched tome to her swollen chest.

The sounds of disturbed water registered in the otherwise silent bath, followed by the carnal mewls of a woman’s lusty desire. Deirdre’s feet rubbed against the smooth base of her pool, struggling to find a hold for her curled toes. Her head was bowed low, her wet hair covering her eyes. “G-gods..”.

One finger slipped into her snatch, causing water to spill in. her velvet walls leaked with every touch or every splash of bathwater that snuck in. Her palm grappled with her tit, smearing the once-clean bosom with the essence of motherhood.

Stimulation was fine and good, but what she needed was a catalyst, a visual that would set her off. She had no memories of her husband and had seen very few men so far in the Order of Heroes. There was only one...her son.

“S-Seliph,” Deirdre whined. The shame of fantasizing for her own flesh and blood was overlooked in her harried state. Her mind pieced together the two sides she’d seen: the noble portrait and his carnal shame. The vivid sight of her own son’s stiff cock set her over the edge.

“Aaah!”

The book dropped into the bath. She was too far gone to react, only able to convulse and writhe in the hot water. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. The echoing screams were muffled by the cascading fountains...

Deirdre let another yawn escape her lips, wincing at the audible pops . She’d wasted too much time drenched in those hot waters, and her body had made that abundantly clear. Then again, spending hours lethargically trying to read more of her borrowed books didn’t help matters either. It had been well past sunrise by the time she pulled herself out of that far too comfy chair for a late morning meal.

Outside her chambers that morning had been two equally pleasant surprises. The first was a new dress and staff that looked identical to the illustration she’d gleamed in trying to skim The Girl in the Forest . The other was a missive from Commander Anna ordering her to do...nothing.

She hadn’t been assigned any responsibilities just yet and had been free to explore the vast grounds of Fólkhalla, the hall of the Order of Heroes. There was so much to discover, so much to see. The Training Tower, the great hall, the Summoning grounds...it was too much.

So she chose the forest, finding solace and comfort amongst the trees. It was clear now that her body still had certain draws, even if she had no memories to assign those lures. She felt at peace here, content to be wholly immersed in the sea of green.

Her sandals crunched against the dirt road, interspaced by the clack of her wooden staff. She wouldn’t be using it in battle, but it was a nice comfort that had been provided for her. ‘It’s nice that Anna is being so accommodating, but I don’t want special treatment,’ Deirdre frowned at the thought.

But she didn’t dwell on such favoritism, not when her mind turned to her current plight. The mother was ashamed to admit she was straddling a line, one that she wasn’t sure she could pull back from.

She’d creamed herself to the thoughts of him. Her son...her flesh and blood. The one that she was so desperate to see, but now felt nothing but shame. ‘What kind of mother am I?’ she lamented.

crack

“Who’s there?”

“Who’s there?” Seliph called. He had hoped to enjoy his day of respite in peace, away from the burdens that being a ‘lord’ would entail of him. He didn’t even have his silver sword, having left it at the refinery to fix any impurities or flaws that it had accumulated. The added chance to avoid seeing Ayra or any of the other bevy of nuible women was a mere coincidence.

Hence his exodus to this quaint little clearing. A little babbling brook, a worn log, and a nice breeze dancing between the trees. It was an almost perfect match to that time with Fee… ‘Stop thinking about that you craven oaf!’ he admonished himself.

But such a luxury was lost to him now. There was someone else out here, and it would be better to simply hail them and move on rather than pretend they didn’t exist.

He didn’t expect the person to walk out of the bushes to be so...captivating.

‘Beautiful’ struck in his mind. There was no denying that the woman before him truly was a radiant figure. Languid, almost silver hair that cascaded down her back. Matching amethyst pools that seemed to widen at his presence. She looked so familiar to him...she looked like Julia.

‘Wait - i’ve seen her before. That staff, her dress, that face...Maera, could it be??’ Seliph gawked at her. He raised a shaky hand as he struggled to speak. “Y-you…”

Deirdre fought her own welling emotions and offered a small smile. “Hello, Seliph.”

“Mother!”

She welcomed him into her arms, wrapping him tight. Her staff fell to her feet, forgotten in the joyous reunion. No words were wasted, just light sobs and reassuring coos.

‘My son…’ Deirdre fought back her own tears. Despite only being a few years his senior, she had to be strong. He needed her to be his rock. An unyielding, firm, hard…

‘...What’s poking my leg?’

“Oh!”

Seliph blinked as his mother pulled away. He was perplexed by her actions, especially after their long reunion. It was only after he looked down that he realized the source of her sudden acts.

Deirdre’s eyes were firmly locked on the tent in his pants. She should be shocked and concerned by her son’s condition. Yet his mother could only watch with growing eagerness at the sight of a man’s arousal.

The two suffered from the same ail. Though they knew each other as family, it was only through hearsay and portraits. They simply had no memories of such a relationship. Hence their bodies reacted not as if they were mother and son...but as woman and man.

“Oh gods mother, please forgiv-” Seliph’s apology was cut short by his mother’s finger.

“Its okay, Seliph,” Deirdre said, looking upon him with a kind smile. He glanced down to her finger, barely seeing the minute shivers in her digit before her next words drew him back. “I want to help you.” she insisted.

Her son’s mind quickly put two and two together of what her ‘help’ would entail. The kind that his body was all too easy to accept, his mind swiftly rejected...and his heart both feared and yearned for. “M-mother I don-?!”

She cut him off, putting his flapping gums to a far more pleasurable use. Seliph’s eyes widened in alarm as his mother kissed him in a very intimate way. The kind that mothers shouldn’t share with their children.

Deirdre overtook him as she suckled his lips. Her arms wrapped around his surprisingly broad shoulders, giving her leverage to lean in. Her son reacted on instinct, grabbing her hip to support her. As well as somewhere...higher.

“Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth. Seliph groped her breast, causing spasms of pleasure to race up her spine. She attempted to coax out his tongue, finding too much resistance from his teeth.

Her rational side realized what she’d been doing. Kissing her own son. The young mother backed off with a gasp.

Wide eyes met wide eyes.

Seliph darted away.

“Wait!” Deirdre cried. Her voice reached the retreating prince, causing his sudden flight to be cut short.

“Please stay Seliph,” she asked. Her words were laced with desperation, a mix of a mother’s pleas and a woman’s wishes. As he turned back to face her, he was caught in the devastating gaze of her pleading eyes.

His mind still screamed at him to run. But his body didn’t obey.

“Let your mother help you,” she begged.

Seliph slowly nodded.

Deirdre pulled off her violet shaw, exposing the thin material attaching her sleeves to her dress. She reached behind to undo the clasp on her back. The white gown slacked as she let it slide off her body. Her languid lingerie was exposed before her son’s shocked eyes.

‘I can’t do this,’ her rational side protested.

‘I want to do this.’

‘He’s your son!’

‘And I love him.’

‘Not that way!’

She stopped listening after that.

Her son watched as she popped off her bra. He audibly swallowed as the garment fell to her feet. Her full breasts were exposed...as were the lactating nipples of a mother of newborn twins. “I don’t know when I was pulled from. But I know that this should be yours,” Deirdre smiled as she presented her weeping teat to her eldest son.

Seliph gulped as his mind rushed at the offer. The sight of dripping milk caused his arousal to painfully throb in his pants. ‘Am I really going to suckle on my mother’s breast?’

The answer was obvious. He latched onto her bosom and sucked. His tongue was blessed with the sweetest ambrosia he’d ever tasted. He sucked her milk down, far faster than any newborn babe could. The pressure was building on her at an uncomfortable rate.

“Ngh...not so rough please,” she pleaded. Her son compiled and slowed his pace. Deirdre sighed in relief as Seliph suckled her breast milk. Her hand reached up and softly stroked his hair, encouraging him on. Her other hand reached down to stroke his lap.

Deirdre and Seliph continued on, ignorant to the world beyond their clearing. Neither one wanted to consider the ramifications of their acts, or even the verboten nature of it all. They weren’t mother and son here, but a woman and a man. Both very eager for carnal release.

He hissed as her fingers dipped into his trousers and grasped his erection. Her sudden pumping caused him to accidently bite down, eliciting a yelp of pain from his mother. She tightened her grip on his head, forcing him to suck down more of her milk.

With shaking hands, Deirdre finished pulling his cock out. He pulled away, much to her sadness. The look on his face was not one that any woman should want to see on her son’s face, much less directed at her.

“Mother…”

She answered him with a kiss, getting a lingering taste of her own milk. Her knuckle gently squeezed his girth, serving as an ever-present reminder of what she intended for him. They pulled away, staring into each other with lidded eyes.

“Let me take care of you,” she insisted. The warm smile on her face and the soft caress on his dick brought Seliph to complacency. He gave her an eager nod and deferred to her.

Deirdre sank to her knees, offering him a last glance before she focused on his girth. This was the first time she’d seen it up close, and it looked...intimidating. A virile blade of masculine flesh that looked almost red. Almost angry.

She knew this wasn’t the first or even second one she’d seen. The proof of that first glance was now watching her with restrained tension. Still, she had no visions to pull on in order to pleasure her son...but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

Seliph watched his mother stroke him off, an absent look in her eyes. Her hesitation made him uneasy, especially as she kept looking at his dick. ‘Is she not impressed? Wait...Baldr’s light, am I really concerned that my mother doesn’t want to fuck me?! How low have I sunk?!’ the young scion wallowed. He was completely unprepared when she finally made her move.

Mwaaah!

A sloppy smack rang through the clearing, followed by the young man’s groans. Deirdre slowly withdrew her lips from his glans, leaving a web of spit between her and her son. She stopped stroking him in favor of planting her hands against his base, holding him still. Her open mouth hovered above…

Gulp

“G-gods!” Seliph cried. His mother ignored him as took in nearly half of his girth in one go. Her tongue gleefully danced around his cock, lubricating him after he passed her tightly sealed lips. Her nails traced thin paths along his balls.

Deirdre ignored her son’s vocal praise, intent on her task to please him. Her head bobbed against his shaft, taking in more and more until she could almost smell his musky pubes. The squelching sound of a sloppy blowjob was all she knew...and that notion frightened her.

She was scared at how quickly this all came, how quickly she dove in. A part of her wondered if this was her life, the one that she’d lived between Seliph’s birth and her arrival to this strange land. ‘I already know I was a trophy...was this how I’d re-paid such kindness?’ she wondered. The thought of spending her days either in a marital bed or on her knees...perhaps the burden of her lost memories was less than she imagined.

Despite those twisted musings, the mother found herself enjoying the taste of her son’s dick. Wanton moans vibrated up her throat, riling him further. Her head rhythmically pumped against his girth, causing her hair to accidentally brush against her sopping wet breasts.

Seliph’s eyes were clenched shut as he enjoyed her lipwork. He found himself eager to feel her drop further and further on his shaft, sending more of his prick into her hot wet mouth. But then she abruptly pulled off with a loud pop , causing him to snap back.

“Mother, W-why’d you stop?”

His mother wiped her lips before responding. “Oh nothing, I just had an idea.” she explained with a smile. Her son watched as she raised lifted herself, still on her knees. At her beckoning, he kneeled down, trying to keep his focus on her and not her swaying bosom.

Deirdre directed Seliph’s hands together, forming a cup. Smiling warmly, she grabbed her breasts and gave them a good squeeze. Two streams of tit milk poured into his palms. The downright erotic sight of his radiant mother’s lactation caused his already-hard cock to throb.

Warm milk dripped from between his fingers, falling into their laps. Her moans reverberated in his ears, compounding the lust he felt for this woman. None of the young women he’d been with could’ve offered him a chance like this, not for a long, long while...

She relieved the pressure off her breasts, slowing the milky streams to a trickle. She quickly brought her hands underneath his, hoping to catch some of her precious offering. “Take some,” Deirdre insisted.

Seliph was too stunned at her words, letting her guide thier paired hands up to his lips. His mouth hung open, letting her dip the contents between his lips. “Drink up.”

The prince obeyed his mother’s wishes. Once again his tongue was blessed with her sweet creamy milk. It tasted a little distinct from his earlier offering. Feeling her delicate fingers wipe his lips made the already skewed line between them that much flimsier.

She pulled her hand away, robbing his lips of the ambrosia. His protest died on his tongue as he witnessed her take her share. He watched as small dribbles escaped her lips, joining the trails that dripped from their fingers. But he didn’t see her swallow.

“M-mother are y-ooooh?!”

Deirdre’’s milk-laden cheeks closed around his loins. Trails of maternal cream cascaded down his length. The rest of his dick was being basted in her hot mouth. The sheer heat and pressure of her surprising act nearly made him cum on the spot.

His mother bobbed her head along his shaft, letting him feel the instant contrast of her cool lips and hot milk. She sucked down, preventing any of her mouth’s contents from drooling out. Her son was utter putty in her lips.

She traded her deep strokes for more of a pulling motion, running her head up and down his pelvis. His girth was assaulted by crashing waves of motherly cream, much as rocks against the shore. Her tongue breached the milky surface and attacked his loins. It was becoming too much to bear.

As if sensing his wits’ end, Deirdre slowed her wild touslings and drew off his shaft with a slurpy pop. She let half of her milk go down her throat, relishing the salty tinge that had been added thanks to his precum. The rest was drooled out of her mouth onto his thoroughly soaked cock. “Mother! G-Gods!” Seliph cried as she retook him straight into her throat.

The impish milf merely hummed in delight, sending reverbs through his aching dick. The sight of her coughing and gagging herself on his prick forced his hand. Her antics had proved to be the breaking point, and Seliph clutched her head until she started to whimper in pain. His warning was curt, “I-I’m!”

Deirdre’s eyes widened as she felt him explode in her throat. She panicked and pulled away, causing his ejaculating cockhead to instantly fill her mouth with his seed. Her further attempts to extract her lips from his cock were impeded as her son’s hands held her firmly in place. ‘Oh Naga…’ she whimpered. The heat between her legs became unbearable.

She was in a race against time, struggling to swallow as much as she could before her cheeks were too full for her to breathe. The creamy taste of his milk-basted cock was wiped away as his salty progeny invaded his mother’s mouth. Somehow she managed to wrest away from her son’s grip and flew off his erupting loins with a loud, lewd pop.

Deirdre coughed out her grandchildren, letting the wasted cum pool on the ground. She flinched as his still-cumming dick shot a rope of potent spunk into her hair. The contrast between his seed and her languid hair was striking.

Seliph was mortified at his deeds. Not only had he crossed a verboten line, but he’d nearly drowned his mom in cum. “Mother I-”

She raised her finger as she coughed, cutting him off. He watched her reach for her dress’s discarded sleeve and wipe her face clean of his seed. Her demure smile stuck out to the streaks of spunk on her face and hair.

“Come here Seliph,” Deirdre said. Despite its kind tone, her soft voice cut him like a sword. Still, he obeyed her wishes and walked to her side. He helped her to her feet, trying to ignore her dainty fingers grabbed his still-hard cock.

She gestured to the nearby tree, compelling him to guide her there. They walked in silence, her hand never leaving his dick. He squeezed her other palm, a decidedly more wholesome act. He gently placed her against the trunk before stepping back.

Deirdre was quiet for a while, too busy basking in the whirlwind of her emotions and thoughts. She knew what she had to do, even if that pesky rational side was screeching in her ear. “S-Seliph,” she called.

His attention was firmly upon her, causing his mother to wilt for but a glance. With shaky hands, she pulled down her drenched panties. The sight of his mother’s rough languid muff and gushing pussy was seared into her child’s wide eyes. “I-I want you to take it out on me. All those frustrations, all that pent up lust. Give it all to me,” she said.

Her son was left flustered by her request. His loins fought the punitive cries of his morals, ultimately stifling the latter. “Mother.”

The words passed his lips, now lost of any merit. Her title was just that, a mere epitet without means or weight. In his eyes she was a woman, one that needed and deserved the love of paragon of light.

She watched him disrobe, allowing her a peek at her son’s exceptional physique. His finery was tossed aside, forgotten in his haste to perform a most intimate dance with his flesh and blood. In the end he was left bare of all save his headband, as sinfully displayed as his mother.

Deirdre trembled under his unyielding gaze. His hands grabbed her arms, bringing him close enough for her to see his breath. A shiver went through her body, though she wasn’t certain if it was his acts or the colder climes of Askr itself. As she felt him pierce her folds, she decided it really didn't’ matter.

Seliph moaned as her tight walls protested his entry. For a woman that had given birth twice now, she was still remarkably tight. He bumped her erogenous spot, causing her to gasp before she cracked a smile. “Welcome home.”

“M-mother,”

They started slow, more focused on each other’s eyes then the rhythm of their hips. Seliph kept his hands on her arms, pulling them tight. Their toes dug into the dirt beneath them.

“H-harder,” she begged. Her son obeyed her request and doubled his pace. She winced as her walls were pushed and pulled with every thrust. The secretions of her pussy only offered so much comfort.

Despite being a few years her junior, it was clear that her son was leading them. Her body would react to his actions, but she had no memories of how to weaponize her feminine wiles. She was little more than a supple ragdoll.

Her son meanwhile had more than a few notches on his belt and the memories to back them out. Triumph and failure alike, he delved into the many romps and antics he’d shared with the women of the Liberation Army. to his loins this was nothing more than another fiar body to sow his seed.

Deirdre’s mind was too cluttered to dwell on such a concerning truth.

“Aah!”

He was pounding her hairy mound now, sending ripples across her supple belly. Precum and quim flew out from her ravished sex. Wet slaps masked the foreboding rumbles of a coming storm. His hands were now clamped onto her shoulders as he plowed the woman that birthed him.

Deirdre grit her teeth. While the assault on her body was stimulating enough, she had the added sensations of bark rubbing against her back. She stayed silent in her suffering, not wanting to burden her son with his mother’s discomfort. It hurts...but gods it feels so good’ she lamented.

As if sensing her discomfort, Seliph acted. His hands roamed down her shoulders to pull her closer. She sighed in relief as her raw back was removed from the tree. But there was a decent part of her that lamented the absence, even as she melted into the incestuous touch of her lovely son.

“M-mother I’m s-so close,” he warned her. It took her a few moments to understand what he was saying. Panic flashed in her eyes as she realized what was about to happen. Seliph was going to cum in her pussy. Her son was going to flood his mommy’s twat with his children.

Her nails dug further into the bark in anticipation.

“Give it to me!” she said. Her choked, broken plea was the final push he needed.

“MOTHER!”

“SELIPH!”

“H-how long?” Deirdre gawked. They’d finally decoupled after what felt like hours. Her pussy was brimming with the bubbling elixir of their incestuous bastards. With their legs having long since given out, the two had opted to lay against the tree, her hand tugging his still-erect loins.

“I think the longest I went was eight...no, nine hours,” Seliph said. His flustered tone made it clear that wasn’t a mere boast, but more of an embarrassing admission of guilt.

“...And who was that with, young man?” she asked, her hand tightening on his firm cock. She’d accepted that her son had many...relations, but she wouldn’t tolerate some random strumpet having so much of his attention.

Seliph winced at her firm grip. ‘It was with a girl I’d met that wound up being my half-sister’ didn’t quite seem to be...appropriate, even given their taboo acts. His mother’s expectant face told him he couldn’t just run out the clock on this, and he had to answer her.

Now.

“J-just a friend.” he stuttered. Deirdre kept pumping his shaft, not looking entirely convinced. Her hand was coated in their carnal union. Their sexual slurry was dripping out of her thoroughly stuffed pussy onto the ground beneath her.

“Mmhmm, I see,” she said. Her stern facade masked the utter shock that was wracking her. ‘N-n-n- NINE hours?! Gods my son is a sexual monster!’ she thought. She was already feeling winded after only… ’How long were we going for?’

“I-is that all mother?” Seliph nervously asked, snapping her out of her ramblings. She opened her mouth to respond, only to immediately close it again. Her body might not have been able to hold out...but she certainly wasn’t eager to call it quits just yet.

“No, I won’t leave my son in such a state,” Deirdre explained. She pulled herself to her feet with labored groans, much to Seliph’s concern. He couldn’t even appreciate the arousing sight of his seed dripping out of his matron.

‘Oh gods what have I gotten myself into here?’ she lamented. It didn’t take long for her to realize that her pussy wasn’t going to hold anymore of her grandchildren. But she was determined to help her son. Think Deirdre, where can I...oh.’

‘Oh.’

Seliph had struggled to his feet just in time to see her intentions. His mother had drooped herself against the tree, pressing her sopping tits against hard bark. Instead of perching herself up, her hands had found a far more useful place. Namely spreading her asscheeks and revealing her puckered hole. “I don’t know if you’re my first, but I’ll gladly welcome you here, Seliph,” she said.

Moth-” he started, only for her to cut him off.

“You...can you call me Deirdre?” she pleaded. Her son came to a stop just behind her.

“I...of course, Deirdre. But that’s not what I mean,” he said. His hands gently pulled her wrists away. She looked at him in surprise.

“Do you not-?”

“Not that way,” Seliph said. He quickly realized how harsh that sounded before quickly adding, “It’ll hurt you too much. Here, let me help you,” he explained as he took his mother into his arms.

He laid Deirdre flat against her dress, caressing her pale, curvy body. She watched as he gathered his own discarded clothes and bundled them up. Seliph guided her hips up before slipping the makeshift pillow beneath her hips.

It was crude, but hopefully enough. He didn’t know if he was really going to be taking his mother’s black cherry, but he wasn’t going to risk her well-being on a chance. Besides, the curious look on her face was simply too precious. ‘She deserves the best of what I can give her,’ her son silently declared.

His disastrous first time with Lana had ended their night’s affair in tears, even if she later said she enjoyed every part except that. His romp with Fee was much more successful, mostly because of the Pegasus knight’s incredible control of her butt muscles. Julia...they’d been so close, but she lost her nerve and resorted to cuddling. And now his third actual anal experience with a woman only a few years his senior, his own mother.

Seliph gave his erection a few jerks, restoring it to full mast. He aimed for his mother’s sopping pussy, pushing her folds aside once more. She moaned at the now-familiar sensation, relaxing back onto the ground.

The prince gave her a few pumps before extracting himself. His dick was slick with their union slurry. “That should be enough,” he explained

Deirdre’s eyes were locked on her son as he shifted his hips down. She gave a little squeak as he prodded at her entrance. He paused before turning back to her.

“Are you scared?”

It was almost relieving when she timidly nodded. He wouldn’t have wanted to wrestle with the knowledge that she was being pushed into doing something she didn’t want to. He was getting ready to pull away when she spoke.

“It’s okay, Seliph. I trust you,” Deirdre said with a smile. Such a pure sight looked wrong on her ravaged and disheveled body. Still, it had her intended effect of renewing Seliph’s vigor. He gave his mother a resolute nod and tightened his grip on her knees.

The amnesiac gasped. Her son’s dick pushed past her puckered entrance. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her fingers gripped up bunches of dirt. She squeezed her watery eyes shut.

Seliph entered her slowly, patiently. Her shudders and whimpers broke his heart, but he didn’t want to risk hurting her by pulling out now. “P-please hold on Deirdre,” he pleaded.

“I-I’m tryiinnnng,” she choked. Every inch felt like an eternity of pain. Her nails pierced the dirt clods and dug into her palms the pain in her hands actually seemed to help her cope. But she refused to open her eyes...

drip….drip...drip

Deirdre felt something on her face, followed by her shoulders and her legs. The soft patter of a midday shower soon settled into her ears. The amnesiac realized her son had let go of her knees. More than that, he’d stopped pushing.

Seliph reached for her hands, stroking them softly. He looked down on the contorted face of his mother and felt his heart wrench. He sheltered her from most of the downfall. The light spray fell on her, masking her tears. “C-can you move?” she whimpered, almost pleading.

He shook his head before answering, “Not yet. Trust me Deirdre”. It broke his heart to see her like this, but he knew better than to start too soon. He could still feel smack on his head from where Fee had admonished him. So he had to endure, only able to offer her minor comfort in the form of loving caresses.

Deirdre gasped as his palm groped her chest. He massaged her swollen teat, coaxing out more of her motherly milk. It helped to dull the sharp pain she’d been feeling and allowed the seed of pleasure to blossom.

“I can pull out if you want Deirdre,” Seliph gently said. He’d caused her enough pain and grief and was ready to call it off for her-”

“N-no.”

He was taken aback by her soft but firm refusal. He tried to plead for her sake, squeezing her breast for good measure. ”M...you’ve suffered enough Deirdre. The last thing I want is to hurt you,” he explained.

“NO!”

His mother wasn’t having any of it. Her tear-soaked eyes now gleaned with a determined light. Lust mingled with pain and love. The words out of her mouth were crass, but effective. “You’re going to fuck my ass until your hips give out, got it?!”

Her vulgar declaration roused him like nothing else. She felt him grow even harder in her rear, causing her to grit her teeth. Her son let go of her breast and hand and instead gripped her hips.

“Understood.”

Seliph started slow, pushing in and out of her tight butt. He was methodical in his acts, having not yet succumbed to the primal call. The moment his mother’s mewls lost the tinge of pain, he increased his pace.

“F-fuck!” she hissed. Decorum was lost to her. Her gentle lips were sullied by a vulgar river of curses. Only her incestuous lover was privy to this side of her. The thought of that level of sinful intimacy riled him further.

Deirdre’s world was a storm unlike the one the two now suffered. The roll of thunder was nothing compared to the claps of her ass. Her labored breaths were met with the stinging pelt of rain. The dark clouds above were a distant dream compared to the miasma of pain and pleasure that had consumed her.

Her son was going too fast, as denoted by her choked sob with each thrust. But she didn’t care. In fact she was almost relishing the pain more so than the surges of euphoria. She squeezed her breasts, squirting out more of her milk. The last vestige of her rational mind came to a terrify conclusion.

She liked to be hurt like this.

She wanted to be hurt like this

“Gods, please!” she screamed.

She wanted more .

“DEIRDRE!”

“SELIIIIIPHHHH!”

She came to after a lustful eternity. The rain was still coming down, the occasional rumble of thunder broke in the distance. She could hear her son’s panting as he pressed down on her bosom. She raised a tepid, tired hand to stroke his hair. It was clear that neither one was too keen to move just yet.

‘A little rain never hurt anyone, right?’

"Is something on your mind?"

Deirdre perked up at her son’s inquiry. She’d been lulled into a trance by the rain outside their new shelter. A shiver went down her legs, causing her to tighten her grip on Seliph’s cape.

Seliph watched her squirm and squeezed her waist tighter. He pulled her into his chest, feeling the warmth of her smooth “Mother...are you alright?”

"Don't worry about me. I'm doing just fine”. She insisted. Her smile did its best to dissuade him as she continued, “Being here with you brings me joy."

“DEIRDRE!”

The woman’s breath was taken as someone crashed into her. Not a moment had passed since her and her beloved son had passed the entryway to the foyer before she’d been assaulted.

Still dazed, Deirdre looked down at her assailant. A young lady closer to her son’s age, with a head of pale lavender hair and vibrant eyes. “Oh my gosh I can’t believe you’re here!”

“I-I...um…” Deirdre struggled to say anything, a feat made harder by the grip of the younger girl. She finally let the older woman go before continuing.

“I’m Tailitu! I’m a descendent of the crusader Thrud. I fought alongside Sigurd!” the woman introduced herself. “Oh wait...I don’t think we ever actually met at all did we?”

Deirdre was getting a little annoyed at having to constantly remind people of her amnesia. Luckily another, deeper voice hailed her.

“It is an honor to meet you in person, Lady Deirdre.”

The mother turned to the side to notice the new spectator, one that had her son wincing just beyond her gaze. A sharply dressed man, holding both a tome and a sword. Black hair that was immaculately slicked back and a face that seemed to lack any flaws. If she’d proudly declare her son handsome...she simply had no words to describe this man.

Tailtiu glanced at the man with an annoyed huff, “Oh right. This is the captain of the no-fun patrol,” she explained. He took her irreverence in good humor as he came to a stop before the three.

“I am Reinhardt of Friege. Commander of Friege’s Gelben Ritter and the childhood guardian of Lady Ishtar.” he introduced himself with a bow. Deirdre dumbly nodded before turning back to the other girl. ‘Surely she has some answers for all that?’ the mother mused.

“Apparently she’s my niece or something,” Tailtiu shrugged. “But enough of all that! Ayra told me you were summoned and I had to find you! Arden’s also here, so those two definitely know you!”

Deirdre was numb at all these new revelations. Hearing that there were people here that knew her from the past, or that knew her husbands, her second son ‘I have another son?!’ or daughter ‘I have a daughter?!’... it was too much. She was so thankful that the rain had already covered her so that they couldn’t see the watering in her eyes.

“I...It’s nice to meet you both,” she beamed.

Behind her, Seliph watched the chaos with a small smile. He was just happy that she had people that knew her. Also that neither one seemed to be at all suspicious of why his mother was limping...

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


NOTE - The following work contains a coupling between confirmed blood relations. If that doesn’t interest you, Please be respectful and don’t leave flaming comments disparaging those that want to read it. Thank you.

Steel sung and clashed between them.

Fir grunted, repelling another strike from her opponent. She took the slight respite to tighten her grip on her Killing Edge, ready for the next assault. Her sparring partner accommodated her with another series of quick slashes and a thrust. She barely managed to block them, and was ultimately pushed past the borders of their arena.

She frowned, another loss. That made five tonight, a new record in failure. The few nicks and cuts she’d managed to score meant nothing in comparison. She looked back to her instructor, awaiting his reprimand.

“You have a ways to go,” Karel growled at the young woman that would be his niece. He wiped away the blood on his cheek with his thumb, a deft action she interpreted as mocking. “Still, you’ve made some meager improvements since we started, so take solace in that fact.”

He didn’t have the familial history with her, but even he could take a modicum of pride in her satisfied grin. It was simple one, tempering accomplishment and humility. He tapped Wo Dao against the floor. “One more round,” he declared.

Fir stepped back into the field, returning to the middle a few feet from her teacher. She assumed a stance very similar to his, a clear testament to her upbringing under the Saint as opposed to the Demon. His own stance had to be adapted, lest he wind up accidentally killing his niece.

The two were tense, hands grasping pommels as they locked eyes. Neither one dared to move, waiting for the other to make the first draw. Off to the sides, the very last Hero had finished practicing and was ready to depart. The sounds of the door opening and closing echoed throughout the still chamber.

Thud…

Clang!

They met, blades crossed well over her side of the line. His power outmatched hers, forcing her on to the defensive. Fir was used to that however, and only resorted to putting in as much exertion as she needed to block his strikes.

She should’ve realized how much Karel was holding back. She did realize it after a blow that should’ve been avoided simply powered through and brought her blade down, taking her with it. On her knees, the young swordswoman struggled to break free.

She pulled back just in time to avoid his blade slicing near her neck. Ordinarly that would’ve been a killing stroke that ended the match. But Fir was growing...slowly.

“You’ll never improve if you just waste time blocking,” Karel growled. He gave her only a moment’s respite before striking again. Fir was ready though, and blocked his attack with all her strength. She broke through his newly applied force and sent him back.

Karel grunted, ready for her forthcoming follow up. The window passed however and he returned to his sturdy footing. ‘ Why didn’t she fall into my counter?’ he mused. His answer came as he looked at his niece and the new form she’d taken.

Fir recalled her time with samurai Hana. the way the disciplined retainer would train till her body gave out. More importantly, she recalled the stance that the Hoshidan used and how easily it could obstruct an opponent’s blade. So unlike her natural technique of passing between strikes.

“That’s a new one,” Karel smirked before leaping back into the fray. FIr quickly switched back to her natural stance and leapt to meet him. His first two blows were matched, but the third he attempted was utterly rebuked. She even managed to get in a passing blow before he was out of reach.

Her uncle felt something...three things in fact. The first was the streak of blood down his chin tying into the other two sensations. Pride for her accomplishments...and the looming bloodlust that the Demon craved. His hand tightened on his blade as a sick smile broke out.

Fir saw the look on his face and grimaced. Her father had warned her about that face and how often it spelled doom back in his younger days. ‘I’m not fighting uncle Karel, i’m fighting Karel the Sword Demon,’ she reminded herself. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her sword in preparation

Clang!

“Gah!”

Karel’s force sent his pupil flying. Fir landed a scant few inches from the edge of the arena. But her uncle was already waiting for her and struck beneath her guard. “Wha-?!”

Riiiiip

Her quick reflexes kept his blade from entering her gut. She still suffered the pain of steel slicing her flesh, but it was a mere glancing blow above her hip. More than within the realm of treatable by the most novice of healers. What was more pressing was the massive gash in her outfit...and the clean cut through her bindings.

Fir wrapped her arm around her chest, hiding her bare breast from her uncle’s apathetic eyes.

To him it wasn’t anything mollifying or degrading, but merely flesh. Still, he had the decency to curtly bow and own up to his indirect transgression. “My apologies. I acted prematurely and aimed for your vitals. That is...that is unbecoming,” he explained.

“I-it happens. I should’ve used your distraction,” Fir explained as she wrapped her coat tighter. For added measure, she secured her sword’s belt tight around her waist. The chill in the night air had left her nipples alarmingly prominent against her jacket.

“Hmph, true on both accounts. Regardless, I think this should be all for tonight,” Karel declared. He spared her a momentary gaze as he turned away. His niece offered a swift bow before she scampered off.

“I told you it was an accident!” Fir insisted as they stepped outside. She was getting tired of having to defend her uncle’s mishap to her friend. Amelia meant well, and the two had struck an instant report. But since the Grado recruit wasn’t there, she was only able to speculate and simmer.

Thankfully Amelia finally got the hint and backed down. Somewhat. “Still, your uncle should know better than to aim for...there, shouldn’t he?” she asked. Her brilliant red armor shined in the sunlight. Her matching red boots made loud clanks with every step.

Fir opened her mouth to argue, but then the realities of their union wrung in her head. “Maybe not.” she admitted. “It’s weird; he’s my uncle, but he isn’t my uncle yet.”

Amelia stopped and turned back to her friend, eyebrow raised. Fir elaborated, “He’s acting way different than I know and more like what father and mother used to know him as. But I guess that only makes sense since he’s from their early days fighting with Lord Hector,”

The Grado recruit mulled the sword pupil’s words before finally agreeing with a nod. “Yeah that’s cropping up a lot now. Like Prince Xander and his son Siegbert...but Xander hasn’t had his son yet?” Amelia speculated before continuing.

“Not to mention there being two of them. Why is one dressed like the Spring Festival and the other’s always wearing swim trunks?” she asked.

Fir didn’t have an answer that was anything more than shrugging her shoulders and sighing. “I don’t know Amelia. It’s just...surreal,” she admitted. Before Amelia could respond, the young sword wielder saw something that redirected her attention. “Princess Eirika? What are you doing here?”

The Renais heiress perked up at her name and turned to face them. She’d clearly just gotten back from a mission, her sword Sieglinde was still affixed to her hip. While none of the three were close, Eirika at least could recognize them and offered a smile.

“Oh hello girls!” she waved. “I needed to see Ephraim about something, and I figured he’d be in the sparring halls.”

Fir nodded at her logic, having oft seen the prince of Renais in the fields and the arena at any hour of the day. “Sounds like a good call. Think he’s still duking it out with Lord Hector and Lord Chrom?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Eirika laughed. The other two joined her as they stepped into the foyer of the training center.

The training grounds of Folkhalla was a grand marvel, consisting of a large central building and multiple open fields. The fair weather today had enticed most of the Heroes out into the fields, eager to relish a cool breeze between their sessions. Off in the distance, the looming spire of the Training Tower cast an afternoon shadow that slowly reached the walls of the castle.

The trio passed the sparsely populated entryway, giving cursory greetings and hails to passing Heroes or servants. The central chamber’s door was within reach when they were inadvertently stopped. “Amelia, there you are!”

The hallway was blocked off by three walls of feminine strength and charm. Fir had fought alongside all three just as much as with Amelia. At the head was the princess of Gra herself, Sheena. Her shining pink armor and gold inlay glinted in the afternoon light.

“Oh hey girls. What’s up?” Amelia asked with a wave. Effie gave a polite nod back, hand on her breastplate. Her powder pink plate looked more worn and weathered in comparison.

The other two were more passive in their greetings, staring at the younger blonde knight. Gwendolyn spoke up, her tone a little miffed.

“Don’t you know what tonight is?” the adorable knight asked, fixing her headband in the process. Her far slimmer orange armor stood as a stark contrast to the other three knights.

Sheena crossed her arms, anticipating Amelia’s realization. Effie remained utterly passive, and Eirika and Fir turned back to Amelia, who had grabbed her chin and closed her eyes in thought.

“Hm...” she mused. Sheena and Effie waited patiently, the former with a slight ire in her brow. Gwendolyn’s toe tapped against the stone, a deft act that belayed the sheer size of her armored calves. A comfortable minute passed before Amelia’s eyes flew open in alarm. “Oh crap, I TOTALLY forgot!”

“Wait, what is it?” Eirika asked.

“Ladies’ Knight.” Eiffe softly said. Fir and Eirika turned to the Nohrian retainer. Their faces matched thier incrudeous thoughts of such an oddly named occasion.

“I...alright then,” Fir relented.

“Want to join us?” Gwendolyn asked. Her invitation took both Fir and Eirika by surprise

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m meeting my uncle for a spar,” Fir explained. Gwendolyn looked disappointed, but understood and let it drop. Instead she divested her attention to the apologetic smile of Eirika. “What’s your excuse Eirika?”

“I had to see Ephraim about...something,” she explained. Gwendolyn and Sheena’s smiles dropped at the rote explanation. The princess of Gra even stepped up and stared the now-nervous Eirika right in the eye.

“Is it important?” Sheena asked as she bore down on the girl. Despite having a scant few inches on her, Eirika felt a shiver go down her back as she tepidly shook her head. Sheena sighed before stepping back, much to the Renais princess’s relief.

Suddenly Effie grabbed her arm, causing Eirika to yelp. “What are you-?!”

“You spend too much time with Ephraim. Be more social,” Effie said. Her blunt tone coming through even as her voice barely registered above the clanking armor.

Gwendolyn chimed in. “Effie’s right, Eirika. Come on; join us for Ladies’ Knight!” she insisted. Sheena gave a nod in consent, clearly invested in the idea to invite the Renais princess.

Eirika sputtered in protest. “B-but I’m not a knight!” she insisted. Fir secretly agreed, but elected to stay quiet and step to the side.

“More the Merrier!” Amelia chimed in. the dirty look that Eirika gave the Grado recruit flew right over her cheerful blonde hair. “See you around, Fir!” she waved as the band of ladies departed. The sword pupil waved before turning into the main hall.

Thanks to the kind weather, it was pretty sparse today, meaning that her and her uncle should be able to use the sparring ring without issue. Fir started her stretches as her mind got into a familiar groove - trying to figure out how to beat Karel.

Her mind quickly ran through the various strategies that had proved fruitless and started to bargain on how to improve herself. ‘Hana’s been a big help, but there must be something else I can do...something I need.’ Her mind then drifted to the women she’d spoken with today.

Fir admired all of them for how strong they were without compromising their femininity. Chief of all was the quadruplet of knights. Even if they were slower, the pupil wouldn’t dare suggest that she’d claim victory. Even her skill could barely put a dent in Amelia’s armor.

‘Hmm, Amelia and the others have their armor to fall back on…’ Fir mused, mulling if such a direction would be beneficial. She humored the vision of wearing such bulky plate before shaking the notion off. ‘Wait, i’m going about this all wrong! A true swordmaster doesn’t need armor, just their blade,’ she affirmed herself.

She pulled out her Killing Edge and began to practice her strokes. Still, it would be nice to have some kind of fallback,’ she mused. ‘Something that doesn’t drag me down or make it too hard to use my sword. Maybe something that...that I already have…Wait, that’s it!’

Before she could follow this new train of thought, her master entered the room and proceeded right to her. She stopped her swings and turned to him. The two shared a practiced greeting before shifting into battle.

‘Here we go,’ she declared.

Fir grunted as she went flying out of the rink. Karel’s stance relaxed as he waited for her to make her way back. When she didn’t immediately leap back in, his face morphed into a scowl. “What is it?”

His pupil balanced on her sword, trying to catch her breath “I-I need water,” she panted. Her master nodded, immediately accepting her request. She offered him a grateful smile before sheathing her blade.

The two were once again alone, the last patron had left almost an hour before. It was well past the start of dinner, but his niece wasn’t keen to give up for the night. Something that her uncle secretly was grateful for.

Karel took her respite to clean his blade, wiping away the drops of blood from where he’d gotten a little too close for comfort. His own cuts had already stopped bleeding, leaving only the dried stains as her own badges of honor.

Splash

Fir shook the excess water out of her hair. Her instructor watched with impatience as she psyched herself up, slapping her own cheeks for good measure. She finally turned back to face him, drawing his attention to the fire in her eyes.

“I thought you wanted a drink,” Karel said. Fir had already downed the cup in her hands and was walking back.

“Just trying to keep myself psyched up, master,” she explained. Karel nodded in tepid approval before bringing his sword back to bear. Fir kept her blade at the side, causing her uncle to narrow his eyes in suspicion.

He lunged forward, intent to cut her sword hand. Fir dodged out of the way, using the momentum of her motion to avoid his next three strikes. His pupil used her superior speed to keep dodging, her blade never rising to meet his. Karel had to admit that a part of him was curious of her intentions

Their match was less ferocious this time, mostly centered around her deft avoidance. Occasionally she would offer a quick slash, connecting more often than not. Sadly for her, Karel was far too experienced and possessed superior stamina. He only needed to strike once to nearly end this.

One slip up was all it took, one moment of hesitation saw his blade connect. Once again her clothing split under his sword. Thankfully he missed her bindings this time in favor of slicing through her belt.

Fir winced, but didn’t strike back in favor of leaping away. Karel was ready to follow her when her state gave him pause.

He hadn’t realized it at the time, but Fir had wound up splashing water all the way down her shirt. Her loosened collar allowed him to see her bindings. His distraction wound up costing him as her blade grazed his arm. Karel’s retaliation was swift and merciless, easily sending her flying back out of the arena.

Fir was taken aback at how effortlessly she’d been taken out. But the fire in her eyes never wavered as she pulled herself back up to her feet. “One more round?” she asked.

Her uncle had sheathed his blade before he responded. “No. that will be all for tonight,” he declared.

Karel was already out the door before she could protest. His niece sputtered at her teacher’s sudden departure...at least for as long as she could hear him stomping away. The moment his steps had faded away, the facade was broken. Her pout morphed into a triumphant grin.

Fir wasn’t sheltered in the slightest. She knew what sex was and what it entailed, and how a man or woman could use their bodies to flaunt their appeal. But it wasn’t until she arrived in Askr that a realization hit her as she gawked at all the beautiful, strong women around her.

Her body was a weapon, and it was one that Karel seemingly couldn’t counter.

‘I’ll surpass you yet, uncle,’ she declared as she downed more of her water...

Karel growled in frustration as he squashed the disgusting notions in his head. ‘Flesh is flesh, blood is blood,’ he chanted. The same creed that had been instilled in him since he was a mere child.

The mantra was the essentially the crux of his former clan’s philosophy, and it was one that he followed to the the letter. It simply meant that there was nothing significant about another person- ally, foe, victim, or family.

And yet his body had reacted to his future niece’s unorthodox behavior. The fact that a pupil so young and so...pure, could get under his skin like that angered him significantly. “RAUGH!”

shink!

His sword cleaved the statue, sending the visage of a one-eyed warrior crashing to the ground. Karel was already storming away. ‘It doesn’t matter who she is or what she does,’ he resolved. ‘Flesh is flesh, blood is blood.’

The next few days passed without purpose. Fir went out on two missions in that time, and she was fairly certain her uncle had gone on three. Eventually their schedules re-aligned, and she could look forward to another sparring match with the Sword Demon.

It was later than they usually met, a consequence of being the only time they could cross blades. Night had already settled on the world of Zenith, the moon and stars obscured by a somewhat unpleasant thunderstorm that had started in the late afternoon. The sword pupil paid it no mind as she walked into the deserted sparring hall.

While it was general policy to wear one’s ‘uniform’ for missions, there was nothing forbidding them from donning new attire or having something made. Fir still hadn’t gotten her outfit fixed, so had elected to wear something different.

It was aesthetically similar to her usual attire, with only deviations coming from the coloration. Teal had been traded for brilliant white, and the gold inlay had become a soothing violet. Her ponytail was done up with a blue ribbon, and she forewent gloves altogether. The only existing element was her boots, still bearing the cut it had suffered on her left calf.

She was early and had opted to do her stretches in the empty foyer. She pulled up her arm until she felt a pop, causing her to wince before repeating the process with her other arm. Her mind was already teaming with strategies and ideas to try against her uncle.

Oooooooh

Fir froze in place as a haunting moan came from somewhere. It was different than the wind, and sounded almost...human. “Hello? Is anyone in here?” she called.

When she got no response, Fir briefly mulled her options. The young pupil quickly scanned the room, finding an ajar door that led to one of the inside target ranges.

With one last glance at the main door, she cautiously walked forward. As she neared the entryway, she started to hear something over the wind and the rain.

pat pat pat pat pat

The ranged practice hall was empty and dark, save for a single light in the farmost lane. Distorted shadows were cast on the walls, creating vaguely humanoid figures that writhed and clashed together. The sounds were louder now, breaking over the symphony of the storm.

PAT PAT PAT PAT PAT PAT

Fir’s eyes narrowed in concentration. She walked forward slowly, her hand lingering near her sword. The notion of intruders in Folkhalla was one that she didn’t often humor, but with the threat of a shapeshifter looming over them, it paid to be cautious.

Krrrrrk...BOOOM!

Fir winced as a roar of thunder shook the building. She instinctively stepped back, finding sudden resistance. Her impromptu kick caused a nearby rack of bows to come clattering to the ground.

“Damnit!” she hissed. The suspicious sounds had stopped and the shadows went still. Fir lept into action, dashing to the far lane. She saw the shadows frantically moving around right up until she reached a foothold to vault over the divider. “Who’s there?!” she yelled as she leapt over the barrier.

Her landing was met with two grunts of surprise. The determined pupil swung around, sword at the ready...until she saw who she’d butted in on. “L-lord Ephraim? Lady E-Eika?”

“Hello Fir!” Eirika smiled with a hearty wave. The younger sword pupil took in the scene she’d walked in on. It all looked...normal. The chamber was mostly immaculate, with only a few scrapes and nicks in the stone. The twins themselves looked fine...minus the tousled hair and lack of armor. Their effects were instead stored over to the side, out of reach.

“H-hello,” Fir waved. The earlier tension in her body completely wiped away as she sheathed her sword. “So um, what were yo-”

“We were sparring,” Ephraim curtly explained. The younger girl winced at his tone. She could feel the disapproval at her trespass in every syllable.

“I-I’m sorry for intruding,” she bowed in fealty. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the twins weapons, Sieglinde and Siegmund, neatly tucked in the corner with a red rag over the spear’s head.. “Um, why are your weapons-”

Ephraim coughed, cutting her off. The brash prince looked oddly uncomfortable as he tried to answer. “We were uh...I mean they were-”

“Strength exercises!” Eirika quickly explained. “Good for keeping the muscles limber and fu-ocused!” she smiled. The overly wide grin on the princess’s face honestly scared Fir more than the prince’s cold reception.

“”Fir.”

Karel’s cold voice caused her to snap back, along with the twins. Her uncle was waiting for her at the lane’s entrance, his face clearly displaying his ire. “It’s time to begin,” he barked before swiftly walking away.

The pupil looked back and forth between where her master was and the twins before giving a final bow. “Sorry to interrupt,” she hurriedly said as she scampered away.

Karel eyed his niece’s new attire with some veiled curiosity. It looked similar to... her robes. ‘That would make sense if Fir is really her daughter,’ he reluctantly admitted. ‘Gods, she even looks a little like Kar-’

“Is something wrong, Uncle?” Fir asked. The swordmaster snapped out of his ramblings.

“No. Let’s begin,” he insisted.

“Ugh!”

Splash

Karel watched as his pupil went crashing into the wall-affixed fountain. She was fortunate enough to have missed the spout or the stonework, meaning the most ill that would be suffered would be towards her attire. As she rose to her feet, it became quickly clear that such damages were a danger to him more so than her.

Fir shook the water out of her hair, causing her tie to fall apart. Her purple tresses cascaded down her back. The water had completely soaked through her robes, exposing her glistening skin beneath the now-wet top. Her uncle noticed that her thankfully still-opaque bindings seemed...shorter, only covering up to the bottom of her breasts as opposed to the top of her stomach.

His pupil grabbed her discarded sword and dashed back into the arena, making it clear that she had no intentions of stopping. Karel humored her, doing his best not to let his gaze linger on her dripping muscles or her nubile curves.

Twice he sent her reeling out of the ring, giving her only a single blow’s worth of gain before his superior swordwork rebuffed her. Fir growled, turning her ire to the ruined robe that clung to her body. It was restricting her movements, making it harder to react. I need to do something about that. ’ she resolved.

Karel was losing his patience for this farce. The storm outside had petered out, losing its ferocious winds and foreboding rumbles. If there was ever a time to consider leaving, it would be soon. He was rearing to announce the end of their session when he caught the sight of Fir throwing her robes off, leaving only her bindings, spats and boots.

Clang!

The shock of her sudden disrobing gave her an alarming advantage against him. Her blade pushed his back, the steel almost reaching his neck before he balanced it out. Karel locked eyes with his niece, observing the fire and passion that consumed her violet pools. As the two struggled for dominance, he glanced down and noticed the clear valley between her bound breasts.

“Rragh!”

Fir yelped as she was rebuffed, her attempts to righten herself only bore fruit after she was outside of the arena. “A-Again!” she insisted, her body shaking.

Her uncle noticed that it was not just the adrenaline coursing through her, but also the toll of the cold water that had drenched her to the bones. He shook his head in denial, causing her to snarl.

“While the storm is quiet. Go back to your chambers and change before you catch your death,” he lectured. Fir wanted to protest, but her words were quickly overtaken by an abrupt sneeze. “Now,” he insisted.

She reluctantly obeyed.

Karel only waited long enough for the door to shut before storming to the sparring halls’ changing rooms. While his personal chambers had a spacious shower, it was way on the other side of Folkhalla. So he made do with the nearest private showers to deal with his ‘problem’ .

He glanced down at the culmination of these charades - the prominent bulge sticking out from his loose leggings. ‘It’s been...it’s been so long,’ Karel growled at the mocking reminder of what he was. Not a blade, but a living being with needs...and desires.

His hand slowly reached for his throbbing sword...

Karel blocked her blow, losing a little more ground. Fir pressed the advantage and struck again, pushing her master back further. His foot was dangerously close to the border of the ring now.

It had been a few days since their last spar, enough time for Fir to finally get her outfit fixed. Her jacket only had a few cuts in it, a testament to her improved skills under the Sword Demon’s brutal teaching.

Once again the sparring hall was cleared out, leaving the duo alone to match blades. Wo Dao and the Killing Edge danced on the familiar floor, followed in short order by the hands that gripped them. Yet it was clear that there had been a shift in the balance.

Her acts were becoming more natural, fluidly dancing between her style and those of her friend Hana’s. More than that, her moves had developed a more sultry angle, seamlessly interweaving utility and flirtation.

Meanwhile Karel was becoming more stilted. His usually honed edge was chipped and flawed, allowing far more give than he offered to take. He found himself against the border of the ring more often than the center. All that while his eyes hungrily followed her every move.

But in the end the swordmaster won out, forcing his pupil out of the ring. Fir huffed in frustration, her chest heaving with every labored breath. Sweat glistened down her body, perfectly framing the inferno in her eyes. She reared back, ready to leap back in, when Karel’s voice broke the silence.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked, making her freeze.

“I don’t...I mean I-”

“I am your master, Fir, as you are my pupil,” he lectured. It sounded incredibly forced, mostly because it was. Karel still didn’t really buy into this whole master/pupil dynamic that he’d found himself in, especially since it would involved admitting that he still had family that he could pretend to care about. But something was lingering within him, something that wanted her presence not as family, nor as a mere student.

‘Flesh is flesh, and blood is blood,’ his mantra grew quiet as the cravings reared their ugly heads. Still, he tried to be responsible, the way that a master should. “If you want to end this...then walk away now,” he warned.

Fir quickly picked up on the implications of her uncle’s cryptic words. ‘This isn’t about the spar anymore,’ she realized. If she stepped back into that ring, there would be no going back. The beast that she had awakened was waiting for her.

She crossed the threshold. “...I will have my victory,” she declared.

Karel’s hair covered his head, concealing his face from view. Still, she could almost hear the sound of smacking lips and feel the leering glare on her unmoving body. “...Okay.”

The two came together.

Wo Dao dropped to the floor, followed by her Killing Edge. master and pupil clawed at each other, pulling their robes closer together. The most blatant point of contact was their lips.

She had to stand on her toes to reach him, at least until he pulled her off her feet. Her gloves found purchase in the long tapestry of hair.

Their blades lay forgotten as they sparred with their tongues. Neither one could claim true dominance, instead opting to coil and slap against the other. Spit was traded in place of blood.e

A million thoughts flew through Fir’s mind, tethered to radically distinct emotions. Ultimately it all boiled down to one question she kept asking herself, ‘ What am I DOING ??’ She never found her answer, and she never lamented its absence.

Karel’s own musings were much more overt, lacking in doubt or judgement even as he perverted the mantra that had long rattled his mind. ‘Flesh is flesh. Flesh is flesh. Flesh is flesh,’ he chanted, eager for more of the sweet supple skin in his grasp.

Her screaming lungs tore her away. She loudly panted, trying to fill her body with much needed air. Her master kept her close, an alarmingly tender hand brushing her back. “Unc-”

“Not here,” he said. His hands gripped hers, leading her to the changing rooms. She followed him, leaving their swords behind...

Karel closed and locked the doors, sealing off the changing room from the inside. Behind him, Fir was obeying her master’s orders and placed some spare towels along one of the benches. The results was a makeshift bed, only realistically big enough for her nubile body.

His pupil watched as her master disrobed, exposing a tapestry of wound muscle and wounded flesh. She witnessed a body that had slain armies, that had thwarted a dreaded wizard, and come out victorious against a lumbering stone giant. Her legs fidgeted and squirmed at the sight. Her loins stirred in anticipation of what was to come..

Her fingers blindly pulled at her own clothes, exposing her bare skin. She slid off her jacket, followed by her emerald robe. She kicked off her boots, followed by her spats. That just left her smallclothes. Her master’s calculating eye was fully upon her.

Karel’s mind was disturbed by his looming trespass. His well-hewn and weathered mind had been compromised, pulling the man back from the weapon that had consumed him. For the first time in over a decade he could feel things besides the desire for the Feast. The flesh he sought was of the fairer flavor...and it scared him.

She undid her bindings, unrolling the strip of cloth across her torso. Her perky breasts bounced free, nipples instantly hardening in the colder air. Karel watched as his niece pulled down her underwear. The small, unfettered patch of muff stood in stark contrast to her fair skin. The only thing that was kept was her hair tie, leaving her ponytail intact.

Her uncle said nothing, but he didn’t have to. One look down at his smallclothes confirmed his approval. He fought back the urge to lick his suddenly dry lips as he walked to their makeshift bed.

Fir let him sit down before she took her place between his knees. Her nimble fingers reached for his hips and grabbed the thin strips above them. As she pulled his undercloth straight down, his cock sprung out and smacked her in the nose.

Fir looked at her uncle’s dick and felt her fire burn out. The sight of his lean yet potent blade made her suddenly very nervous about the forthcoming prospects. This...this was going in her mouth. This was going inside her.

The pupil calmed her breathing, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating. Her nostrils caught the heavy smell of his musk, sending tingles into her stirring loins. But while her body was more than receptive to his dick, her mind was still more than a little apprehensive. So she did what she did best - give herself a pep up.

She smacked his dick against her cheeks, trying to psyche herself up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed in the chamber. “What are you doing, Fir?” Karel asked, snapping her back.

“S-sorry master. Just some nerves,” she explained before focusing back on her uncle’s cock. It still waited in her hands, erect and ready for her incestuous lips. Okay, deep breath,’ she told herself.

Fir gave his loin’s a tentative lick. The salty taste caused her to balk slightly, but wasn’t bad enough to make her want to quit on the spot. ‘It’s...it’s not bad,’ she decided as she increased her pace.

Karel groaned as she lathered his cock in spit. His hands stayed firmly at his sides, bunched up into fists. How pathetic am I to be brought low by an amateur?’ he lamented. The fact that it had been over ten years since his last lay was of no consequence in his eyes.

Fir’s hands clasped the base of her uncle’s dick. She used her fingers to move his shaft around, giving her more room to run her tongue up and down the length of his girth. His veiny prick was soon glistening under a layer of saliva.

The pupil returned to his crown, swirling her tongue around his slit. She felt his hips buck under her ministrations, causing his cock to jam against her nostril. She got a heavy dose of her master’s masculine musk. The spark between her legs ignited as she went lightheaded.

Her impatient uncle rolled his hips, snappin her out of her lull. Fir shook her head clear and refocused on the throbbing matter at hand. Her master’s sword was well polished and primed. Now came the question of which sheathe to plant it in.

The pupil sucked in air before planting her lips over his crown. She took him in, slowly, meticulously. Her precise actions came after she fought back her pounding heart and burning core. Her tongue remained flat against the base of her jaw, trying not to interrupt his dick’s passage in and out of her mouth.

Karel watched her attempts to blow him. He could give his niece credit - she was trying. But it was clear that she was so far out of her comfort zone that there was no way she could tap into that inner fire she possessed. ‘I think I know how to get to that,’ her master thought.

“Hmph, that’s enough,” he declared. Fir froze in the middle of bobbing. His hand pushed her off, a wet pop split the silence. His pupil shook off the spit teather, her eyes burning with curiosity.

“Y-you wish to stop, Master?” she asked. Her tone was confused and just a bit hurt. Karel ignored it as he stood up and walked beside her. She didn’t look back, even as he pulled her up and pressed against her back. The coarse breath in her ear sent shivers down her spine.

“I didn’t say that…” he ominously said. Before she could ask for clarity, Karel grabbed her and flipped her over. His niece gave a stunned squeak as she was placed longways against the bench, flat on her back. Her head was just off the edge, giving her the strained sight of her uncle walking around to her front.

“You always perform best under adversity, Fir,” he explained. His dick hovered dangerously close to her trembling lips. Her eyes darted frantically between the looming flesh sword and her teacher. “Allow me to give you a challenge.”

Her protests were cut short as he thrust back into her mouth. She avoided the instinct to bite down, opting instead to simply graze her teacher’s prick with her teeth. Karel’s hiss suggested that this had been a wise choice.

Fir’s hands blindly groped for a hold, finding purchase against the legs of the bench. Her uncle paid her no mind, too invested in shoving his dick between her lips. Every time he bumped against the back of her mouth, a pleased hiss escaped his gritted teeth.

Her master was far rougher with her, using her mouth as a mere sleeve for his cock. Her body shook and spasmed with every thrust, churning up the liquid fire that was dripping out of her pussy. Her toes curled, trying to find the same kind of purchase that her fingers had but finding nothing.

Karel’s hand pressed down on her throat, pushing her almost parallel with the floor. Her master used this position to thrust deep into her sore mouth. His dick gradually moved closer and closer until he finally slammed into her hot, tight throat.

“Godssssss!” he howled, relishing the sensations as she mumbled around his cock. Fir kept focus, fighting back against the blankets of darkness that loomed around her. Her master ignored her plight as he bucked his hips. “Here it comes, Fir!”

“Mmmph?!”

His pupil’s throat was assaulted by the onslaught of incestuous spunk. Fir struggled to swallow as her body shut down. Her uncle slowly pulled out his still-ejaculating dick. An errant rope went up the back of her throat, shooting straight out of her nostrils. Her punitive whimpers came out muffled.

Karel withdrew into her lips, filling her cheeks with his lingering spurts. As he pulled out, a single rope of cum shot up her cheek and ended at the side of her lidded eye. The swordmaster stepped back against a nearby rack and examined the damage.

Fir gurgled out his cum, sending the bubbling brew down to the chiseled floor. Her lulled head sent some of his seed down her throat, lazily sliding down to her waiting stomach. She was too far gone to register. Any motions she made were involuntary spasms...

“…”

“Fir?”

Her uncle’s words snapped her back. She coughed out the now-cooling jizz, the salty concoction embedded on her taste buds. Fir laboriously raised herself up, seeing her uncle watching her impassively. Their shared naked state and the half-mast dick swinging between his legs tarnished any chance of this being a ‘gentle’ sight.

“Do you sti-”

“Yes”

Karel blinked at how curtly she answered. His erection responded even as he kept his mouth shut. He took his place between her. She parted her legs further apart in response.

Her master glanced down to her pussy, giving it a little prod. Fir’s rebuttal was to tighten her grip on the towels and give a resolute nod. His hands found purchase at her hips, and slowly, he brought his cock forward.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned. She pushed back, meeting his dick as her master settled into her tight snatch. In response, his pace sped up, making the sounds of slapping fill their ears. “H-harder,” she whined.

He obliged.

Karel slammed into her, causing his niece to yelp. Her remarkably tight core made it a trial to not unload in her fertile womb then and there. If that wasn’t enough, her labored breathing spurred him on. “M-Master,” she choked.

The pitiful way she called him, the submission in her usually confident voice...Karel didn’t realize he could get any harder than he already was. His hands shifted up to her shoulders, giving him leverge to push deeper into his niece’s lustful twat.

“AAAAAH!”

Her uncle winced as her voice peaked. Thinking quickly, he clamped his hand down on her mouth. Her stifled screams still echoed through the changing room. The sounds of slapping skin faded away as he slowed his pace.

Fir relaxed beneath him, her head lulling to the side. Her petite chest heaved for air as her body slowly restarted itself. Karel took that chance to start thrusting again, swiftly picking up speed. Her already disheveled hair came undone as the tie fell to the floor.

Pat pat pat pat pat

Fir pulled her mind out of the orgasmic ocean, drawn to the sounds of skin slapping against skin. She didn’t need to look down to confirm the source. Her uncle’s balls struck her pert ass with every vigorous thrust.

It wasn’t just the sound or its origins that drew her. There was something about the symphony of skinship that felt familiar. ‘This sounds...it sounds like-like-liiiiiiiiiii-.’

And then she drowned again.

Karel struggled to buck his hips against her tightened walls. While he was long past the embarrassingly quick bursts from earlier, he was still only human. He gave his gasping pupil one last glance as he slammed into her hips.

She briefly felt the sensation of his spunk flooding her womb before another orgasm ravaged her body. This time Karel let her scream unmolested, too invested in his own guttural roars. Uncle and niece shared a duet of deviant debauchery.

The older man recovered first, finding his cognizance from somewhere in the ruins of his disciplined mind. He was dangerously close to rediscovering his twisted morals when a lusty mewl from his pupil made him refocus on her. “M-m-masterrrrr,” she slurred.

The sight of the nubile swordswoman beneath him, disheveled and drooling, reinvigorated Karel’s carnal cravings. He took his niece and laid her flat on her stomach. Fir merely whimpered in response, too tired to react...and yet too eager to protest.

His sword pierced her loins, sliding back into the verboten sheath. His thrust displaced some of the sexual slurry that had been bubbling within, causing it to gush out onto the towel. Neither one paid it any heed, least of all the driven man that craved her nubile flesh.

The young woman bit her lips, desperately trying to keep her head above the orgasmic typhoon. Her uncle was ferocious, doubling the frantic pace he’d used earlier. Fir struggled to prop herself up on her elbows, her shoulders still drooping down.

Karel’s hands drew her hair back behind her, creating a facsimile of her usual ponytail. He left on hand to hold it in place as his other gripped the top of her head. She winced as her roots were pulled, especially when he increased his thrusts.

Pat pat pat pat pat

Fir’s ass slapped against his loins, stirring up even more of their earlier incestuous soup. The towel beneath her was drenched in sweat, cum, and quim. As her uncle pulled her hair tighter, a new pair of stains appeared just under her eyes. “S-shit! M-mast-aaaaah!”

Smack!

His hand grazed her cheek, nowhere near hard enough to leave a mark. Still, his repeated blows were able to force her head to the side, her eyes squeezed shut. She collapsed into the crumpled towel, tears streaming down her cheeks. “M-mooooreee,” she begged.

Karel withdrew his hand from her face, exchanging which fist was pulling back on her hair. His now-free palm gave the skin above her pert ass a good smack. She struggled to lift herself up, only for his repeated barrage on her bottom to win out. Her head bowed low as he plowed her weary body.

Karel grabbed her chin, pulling her face back up. He held her aloft, his hips making her head shake with every furious thrust. Her eyes squeezed shut as she endured the vigorous pounding. Her attempts to speak came out as mere mumbled and whimpers.

His finger dipped into her mouth, keeping her teeth apart. Fir gurgled and slobbered all over his firm digit, her lustful moans coming out garbled. Her flaring nostrils picked up the scent of her own juices on his thumb. She leaned into his finger, suckling it like a newborn’s pacifier.

Karel’s free hand came up from her hip and bunched up her hair. He pulled the impromptu knot tight against her head, giving him more leverage to drill her messy twat. Her hand struggled to reach his, only for him to swiftly slam her back down into the towel.

The swordmaster planted his palms into her shoulders. His hips slowly rose as he fucked his dazed niece’s cunt. Her teeth caught some of the towel, inadvertently tasting a mixture of sex and sweat.

Her uncle’s hips buckled as the pressure built in his loins. Her messy, tight quim was begging for more of his seed. Even as she was limply tossed around like a ragdoll, her walls wanted to milk his dick dry.

Karel slammed into her one more time with a guttural howl. His third load shot straight into her womb, quickly mixing with the lukewarm stew that sloshed inside. The last of his strength left him, and he collapsed on top of her. Fir gave a contented whimper as her breathing stilled...

Fir’s hands lathered up before she ran them through her dirty hair. The hot shower was a much-needed respite, especially after their vigorous ‘sparring’. Water and wash dripped down her naked body, joining the layer of sweat in swirling down the drain. “You’re too quiet, master.”

Karel said nothing to her, opting instead to sit beneath his own showerhead and stew in his thoughts. His face was an impassive mask, staring straight ahead. She was drawn to his eyes.

They looked eerily familiar, like the nights she’d walk in on him in the dojo alone. The one’s that stared at his blade with an intensity that scared her. She hated seeing him like that...and decided to handle it the same way she had before.

Karel didn’t react to the sudden loss of water as the showers were turned off. Nor when Fir shuffled away to grab a towel. He only made a motion when she came back and wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you, Uncle Karel,” she softly said. Her voice carried nothing of their earlier trespass, containing only genuine love and concern for the man who had helped to raise her. For a single moment, his eyes grew wide at that declaration...and how eerily similar it sounded to the family he’d left behind.

His arms slowly closed around her.

‘Blood is Blood.’

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


NOTE - The following work contains a coupling between confirmed blood relations. If that doesn’t interest you, Please be respectful and don’t leave flaming comments disparaging those that want to read it. Thank you.


Camilla strolled through the halls of Fólkhalla , giving a cursory wave or smile to any one that hailed her. Her demeanor was pleasant, even if it was clear her attention was elsewhere. Indeed, her mind’s focus wasn’t on them, but instead on her family and what activities they were currently involved in.

‘Hm, let’s see’ she mused. ‘Elise is at the Training Tower, as is Corrin’s summer counterpart. MY Corrin is with my Spring double, and the female Corrin is…’ Camilla slowed down as she tried to remember where her ‘sister’ was.

Of her siblings, she was the oldest that was currently contracted with the Order, at least the oldest ‘normal’ one. Sure there were two copies of dear Xander, but both of his personas were a touch...addled.

“Right! She’s on a mission with those Arkaneans!” Camilla snapped her fingers. She didn’t even feel any concern for her pseudo-sibling, especially since Princess Minerva was with Corrin. “Hmm, that just leaves…”

“Oh, Siebert!” she declared. Her nephew was returning from a mission and should be at the foyer in just a few minutes. With that in mind, the Nohrian beauty took off to welcome him back. Her heels clacked against the stone floor with every swift step.

She arrived just in time to see his triumphant return...and the cruel assault that made her stop cold in her tracks...

“Not bad out there, Prince Siegbert,” Hinoka praised the cavalier. Her attention was focused on her mount, caressing the sky striding beast with fondness and reverence. The young heir of Nohr turned from his own horse over to her and offered his kingdom’s sworn enemy a polite smile.

“Thank you, Princess Hinoka. I am honored to have been of assistance,” he stated. A part of him was still perturbed by speaking to a Hoshidan so candidly, especially when the feeling was quite mutual (with the exception of young Lady Sakura). But he’d managed to take to the ceasefire that Askr required fairly well.

“Heh, well nice to see another Nohrian that’s not too hostile,” Hinoka chuckled as she gave him a firm clap on the shoulder. Siegbert balked at the brazen display, but had the fortitude to not retaliate. “I’ve got flight training. Hope to be paired with you again sometime,” she said before departing. Her Tenma trotted behind her.

“The feeling is mutual,” he called back, almost believing his own words. Still, he let his gaze linger on the Hoshidan princess and her disturbingly short skirt before shaking such impure thoughts away. “Come Catarina, let’s get you back to the stables,” he prompted his loyal steed.

Neither Siegbert or Hinoka had witnessed the high princess of Nohr watch the procession with an unseen expression...

“RAAAGH!”

Camilla’s axe tore through the tree, felling another of the great pine trees. The princess was too blinded by rage to care, deftly stepping aside to attack the next one. In her tantrum, she’d expanded the border of this quaint little clearing. Her heels left deep slits in the ground, further cutting up the idyllic landscape.

Night had long since fallen, leaving her to be guided by the flash of her weapon’s steel. If anyone would’ve had the misfortune to stumble upon her, they would not find the obscene yet refined high princess of Nohr. Instead they would’ve found a beast that would make any army quake and the Faceless’ falter.

With a thunderous roar, Camilla planted her axe in a nearby boulder. The violet-hued metal cut deep into the stone before coming to rest at the polearm. The sound perked up her nearby Malig from its roost.

His master was panting heavily. Her tantalizingly exposed body littered with sweat. The princess’ usually immaculate hair was frayed and disheveled. Her muscles screamed in protest of their prolonged punishment.

Camilla collapsed to the ground with a huff. Her breasts heaved with every labored breath. Her Malig lumbered up to her, prompting the now-placid rider to lovingly stroke her steed.

“Oh Xander, how could you be so cruel?” she wistfully mused. A part of her loathed her elder brothers decision to stay with the vile Embla empire and its young ruler Veronica. And yet she understood his reasoning...gods, she could even relate to his decision.

‘Still, he shouldn’t have been so selfish as to leave his family like that.’ she silently chided. Camilla did her best to be the rock that her family needed. Both the trio that she grew up with, and all the numerous forms that had come forth. The only ones she didn’t feel compelled to oversee was Xander’s dopplegangers and her own duplicates.

Camilla wiped her nose, crinkling in disgust as she smelled the state she was in. “Ugh, I smell wretched,” she bemoaned. Her beast grumbled, a tone she took as an affirmation.

“None of that,” she chided him as she gave the undead drake a light tap on the snout. “Go back to the stables,” she ordered.

Her lifeless wyvern nodded and obeyed. It used the now-spacious clearing to take flight. Camilla watched her mount’s departure before sighing. “I need a bath,” she declared as she pulled her axe out of the stone with one hand.

“Oh dear, I didn’t know anyone was going to be in the baths this late.”

Camilla’s voice echoed into the modest outdoor spring. It was a tributary built off from the main bathhouse that often saw private company. A bit of a walk from the changing rooms, but from her experience it was by far the best for a solitary soak...or at least it would be if it weren’t for the shadows on the adjacent wall.

The Nohrian’s sultry voice had an effect on whoever was in her bath. She took a warped sense of joy in hearing a high pitched yelp and a deeper grunt of surprise. The voices that called her sounded quite familiar as well.

“Princess Camilla?” / “P-Princess Camilla?”

“Eirika, darling! And here with prince Ephrahim?” Camilla happily asked. She always enjoyed her fleeting encounters with the twins, especially since she rarely saw one without the other. Some found that grating, but the Nohrian princess couldn’t say she really minded.

She finally cleared the hallway and stepped out into the enclosed clearing. The rectangular tiled bath was filled with suds, completely hiding the bottom. The Renais twins were on opposite sides, looking at her with a outright shock. Admittingly, she didn’t quite expect the siblings to be in proper bathing attire together. Alone.

At night.

“Oh dear, am I intruding?” Camilla asked. The Nohrian’s towel was draped around her arm, safely tucked away and leaving the full frontal sight of Nohr’s crown princess on proud display. The twins couldn’t help but gawk at her boldness.

Surprisingly it was Eirika that spoke up. “N-not at all. It’s just so startling to see how...candid you are.”

Camilla mulled the girl’s words before shrugging. “I suppose that’s true. But if anyone should be surprised, I think it would be me!” she laughed.

Her melodious mirth was met with some nervous chuckles from the twins. Both were enraptured by the way the Nohrian’s chest heaved and jiggled with every guffaw. Camilla caught her breath before she elaborated. Her tone was neutral, but carried a certain edge with every drawn word. “Seeing you two bathing together, late at night with none the wiser. It looks so…”

“-Wonderful!”

“The close bond you two share is simply precious. I only wish my family could be that way…” she dreamily cooed. The starstruck beauty closed her eyes as she tried to draw such an idyllic fantasy.

Camilla perked up when she realized she’d walked in on something private and gave an apologetic bow. “Well I won’t intrude, please excuse me,” she explained as she turned to leave.

“I-is something the matter?” Eirika asked.

Camilla turned back at the Renais princess’ inquiry. The younger twin was clearly inviting her in, despite the ire of her brother. The Nohrian ignored him and gladly joined the duo, her unused towel dropping to the ground as she stepped in.

Her foot brushed something aside, making her pause before simply proceeding. She ended up on the far end, sitting between the two. The buxom beauty was so invested in the delightfully warm water she missed the gazes the twins levied on her.

“Aaah, that’s the spot,” Camilla cooed. She arched her back, pushing out her breasts. Eirika glanced down at her own and whined in protest before reiterating her question, “Is there something wrong, Princess Camilla?”

“I’m afraid so my dear.” Camilla admitted. Her uncharacteristically somber tone stunned the twins.

“Corrin again?” Ephraim inquired.

“No, although I must say the shock of having not one, but THREE of my darling little sibling running around is quite the shock,” Camilla admitted. Her fond smile made it all too clear how she felt about the concept. Her mood soured as she continued, “This time it’s my nephew, Siegbert.”

“Prince Xander’s son?” Erika asked. She had waded her way over to the same side as Camilla and now sat next to her.

“Indeed. I fear he’s become quite conflicted about this whole affair with the Order and the war,” Camilla explained. Eirika didn’t really understand what that meant, but offered a sympathetic smile regardless.

“It must be so hard on the boy, having his father still in the clutches of those dastards in Embla,” Ephraim chimed in. Unlike his sister, he had not bothered to come closer and still kept a comfortable distance to the two lovely ladies.

“You’re absolutely right, prince Ephrahim. Sadly while he thinks the world of his father, neither of the two that are here match the mold Xander has set up for his son,” Camilla sighed before continuing. “I suppose that would be tricky, especially seeing your father in spring finery or wearing a swim trunk of all things. Neither outfit quite screams ‘dignified prince’. Wouldn’t you say, Eirika?” she asked, turning to the younger princess.

Hearing her name made the younger twin perk up. “Oh! I uh...sorry, I was distracted,” Eirika meekly explained.

“Oh don’t tell me you also fancy my brother, princess Eirika,” Camilla lamented. She fought back the urge to giggle at the sudden blossom on the younger lady’s face.

“I, um…” Eirika struggled to find her words. She frantically looked to her brother, silently pleading him for an intervention. The prince nodded and cleared his throat.

“Please princess Camilla, don’t burden my sister with such a churlish inquiry. I fear her cheeks may soon match the bath water in heat,” Ephraim remarked.

“Brother!” Eirika shrieked. She splashed water in his direction, nearly assaulting his eyes with suds. Camilla for her part gave a short laugh before making things right.

“Oh! My apologies, darling,” she said. Her melodious laugh snapped the flustered sister out of her state.

“That’s um, that’s okay. But about Siegbert?” Eirika asked. Camilla’s smile dropped right off her face as she was reminded of her dreadful plight.

“Oh right. I caught him today, being drawn into the wiles of one of those wretched Hoshidans!” Camilla lamented. The twins shared a glance, silently questioning the severity of this trespass. The two traded gestures to the sulking Nohrian, neither one keen to be the first to respond. Finally Eirika gave in and spoke up.

“Are you certain he wasn’t simply chatting with them? Surely a place such as this would be neutral ground,” the Renais’ sister asked.

“Indeed. Also, what would be wrong if he does? Not to overstep, but surely an alliance would serve to unite your two kingdoms?” Ephraim proposed. Camilla could see the merit in their foreign counsel, and had the courtesy to acknowledge them.

“Perhaps, but regardless I cannot help but fret for him.” Camilla admitted. “The body could be honed until it’s an impregnable wall, but to the pleasures of flesh it might as well be made of paper.”

“That...profound,” Eirika chimed in.

“It’s an old Nohrian saying,” Camilla started. “There’s precedence of kings that were felled by the temptations of an opposing kingdom or faction. One night of vulnerable pleasure ends with regicide and the royal courts in chaos,” she bitterly regaled. While she had no such experience with those olden times, she could hardly say that Garon’s antics were any less stressful.

“An oddly fitting proverb,” Ephraim admitted. The prince brought his hand out of the water, cradling his chin as he pondered his next words. “Surely being of noble birth would mean he was reared in such matters?” he asked. Eirika silently nodded across from him, seeing the wisdom in her brother’s words.

“That’s the problem; for one so young, he’s clearly had no tutelage in defending himself from such foul advances.” Camilla explained. Neither twin interrupted her, prompting the nohrian princess to continue, “Ordinarily It would fall to the mother to explain such things, and to a trusted retainer for the hands-on work.”

“Um, by hand’s on, that would mean...oh!” Eirika balked at the realization. She was used to culture shock even before coming to Askr. but this...this was too much.

Camilla hummed in response, not quite realizing what Eirika’s gripe was with her kingdom’s culture. “Could I really burden poor Felicia with such a matter?” the Nohrian beauty mused. The Renais’ princess tried to respond, imitating a witless fish for several minutes.

“Um...it’s not really my place, but doesn’t that seem a bit extreme ?” Eirika finally managed to ask. This got the attention of the sibling’s ‘guest’, who turned to the flustered younger twin. She’d almost counted her blessings when her dear brother gave his two cents...almost.

“Indeed. I do not wish to impune princess Camilla, but such a custom is liable to cause far more harm than good,” Ephraim bluntly explained. His brash words wound up riling Camilla, causing her to growl as her eyes narrowed. His sister quickly cut in, trying to avoid further offending the foreign noble and causing what strife between their two worlds.

“T-that’s not what I mean!” Eirika insisted, trying to talk down the now-irate Nohrian. “I’m just asking isn’t there another solution that doesn’t involve forcing one of your subordinates to...d-debase themselves?”

EIrika felt a sudden chill and realized that she’d raised her bare chest out of the warm, concealing water. She dived back under with a yelp, sinking all the way down to her eyes. Camilla watched this as she mulled Eirika’s words.

“...You’re absolutely right princess Eirika,” Camilla declared. She stood straight out of the water, causing a splash as her body cleared the surface. The twins balked in protest of her brazenly bare exposure.

“P-pincess Cuhmilla!” Eirika gasped, her nose filled with bubbles. Ephraim had the decency to avert his eyes to preserve the Nohrian nobles’ dignity. Camilla paid them no mind as she stepped out of the water.

“I’m afraid I have to leave now. You two enjoy yourselves,” she explained. Before either one could ask her to elaborate, the Nohrian princess had already wrapped herself up and walked off.

Siegbert was slowly walking back to the marglóð wing, stomach full with the fine feast of a well-earned dinner. But this meal was rather striking, as his previous comrade-in-arms had invited him to eat with her family and vassals.

It had been...interesting, eating with Hoshidans. The youngest princess was quite nice, if a bit shy. The younger prince wasn’t there, but his retainer was. ‘I will never be able to get that nightmarish face out of my head,’ Siegbert lamented.

Prince Ryoma...dear gods one of the man was terrifying enough, but what he saw was worse. ‘This whole Order nonsense is getting out of hand, now there are two of him?!’ the prince shuddered. ‘Just wait until father finds out...err, fathers,’ he corrected himself.

The rest were whatever retainers could be spared to show, Felicia had finished her duties, Kaze was silently conversing with his brother Saizo, Azama was...there, and Hana was eying his sword with a concerning gleam in her eyes. Kagero looked at him with keen interest...at least he thought it was him. ‘All I know is that whatever mission got her dressed up in that Nohrian Spring festival garb...it can’t have been an easy one,’ the prince mused.

Beyond his table mates, the food had been different...different, but quite good. Siegbert wasn’t sure what went into mochi, but he liked it. His thoughts of dinner and the curt yet polite company were dashed as he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

It was clearly a woman, if the bountiful curves could be trusted. Her attire briefly reminded him of the Wyvern Riders’ uniform back in Nohr, something that none of the Heroes from his world wore. The gaps where skin would normally be were instead covered in a tight black suit, highlighting her almost intimidating muscles. The other deviation was the mask of a Malig Knight concealing her face, horns and all. In her hand was a steel axe, glinting in the torch light.

Siegbert made no move to attack, opting instead to cautiously appraise this new potential threat. His eyes lingered on her breasts, taking in how they bounced with every deep breath. ‘S-she’s bigger than Auntie Camilla,’ he mused. The prince shook out those thoughts in favor of hailing her. “Who are you?”

The stranger said nothing, letting the wind blow her tattered cape to the side. Siegbert glanced down, trying to discern her motives. The sharp glint of her axe was a constant warning. His hand drifted to the sword at his side…

The woman swiftly reacted, lunging towards him.

“Wha?!”

CLANG!

The dark longsword clashed against her steel axe. When his blade didn’t immediately break through, Siegbert became aware of just what kind of trouble he was in. When she effortlessly broke the stalemate and nearly carved out his chest, he knew how screwed he was.

The Assailant stepped back, dodging his downward slash. His attempted follow up was rebuked by her shoulder bashing his cheek. The force of her jab sent Siegbert reeling. “Oof!” he recoiled, barely managing to secure his grasp on his sword before the next blow came screaming.

Sparks flew as their blades sung. Siegbert’s sword was faster, but compared to her axe it was simply incapable of landing even a glancing blow. The prince had to pull out every lesson of his vigorous studies just to keep his head.

His opposition was silent, even as she hefted around her axe with the deftness of a mere pen. If she wasn’t presently trying to maim him, Siegbert would’ve been impressed as opposed to hostile. ‘I need to do something to gain the upper hand,’ he mused.

Her blade scraped his arm, causing him to wince in pain. The prince did his best to ignore it, instead electing to tap into his innermost power.

The Dark Longsword glowed in his hand. The prince’s red eyes gleamed with a draconic fire. The long-buried blood of his ancestor manifested in his strike “I will end this!” he roared. His blade swiped down on her...

Clang!

His sword connected right on the flat of her axe’s blade. The force of his blow caused her to slide back, her heels scraping against the stone in the process. He saw minor cracks in her metaphorical armor - her arm wavering, her breathing grow sharp. Yet those would be the only victories he would claim tonight.

As if sensing his confidential burst, the woman let him through, deflecting his blade to the side. Before the prince could retaliate, her hand had already found purchase against the back of his head.

WHAM!

“Ooof!”

The Assailant’s knee connected with the prince’s chest, robbing him of his breath. What little air he still had was stifled by his head being forced into her the valley of her breasts. She let him stagger back before watching him stumble and collapse. His armor took the brunt of the fall, but he still hadn’t found his breath even as she loomed over him.

Wham!

The Assailant’s axe was planted straight into the stone walkway at his side. The long handle pressed into his breastplate, keeping him from moving. Siegbert struggled against her axe, trying to push the handle off himself. Sadly the steel blade was so far buried in the path that it wasn’t budging an inch.

“Wh- huf- a ... what do you want with me?” he asked, his attempts to breathe stifling his inquiry. The Assailant said nothing, looking down on him with unreadable intent. Slowly, she raised her foot and planted it on his pelvis. “Wha-?!”

The woman pressed down, digging the toe of her heels into his crotch. She ignored his grunts and focused on her sordid task. Her toes glided down his length, coaxing more and more blood into his dick until there was a prominent bulge in his pants.

Siegbert’s hand groped for her foot, only to have it kicked away before she resumed her ministrations. His other hand tried to push up the handle, unable to make it budge even an inch. ‘H-how strong is she?!’ he wondered.

Her footwork was crude, yet very very effective. Siegbert bit his lips, trying to keep from groaning aloud. A part of him wanted someone to walk by and offer him aid...but most of his being wanted this suffrage to go without witness. Anything to keep this embarrassment form shaming himself or his lineage.

“Aah!”

The future pride of Nohr splashed against his leggings, staining the pristine white trousers. The Assailant withdrew her foot, letting the pressure off his wilting cock. She walked around him, her heels clacking against the stone walkway. Siegbert barely noticed the sudden relief on his chest as she withdrew her axe with a single hand. The mysterious woman left the pitiful prince behind, convulsing and gasping with his cum on his pants.

“Eirika.”

The princess of Renais turned around at the hailing of her name. “Princess Camilla!” Eirika greeted before noticing who it really was. “Oh wait you’re the spring one...um what should I call you?”

“Just Camilla is fine. I wanted to talk to you about something,” Camilla explained. Eirika nodded in consent, trying not to stare at the bouncy ears on the buxom beauty’s head.

“It’s about the original Camilla, the normal one,” the Nohrian clarified. “Has she been acting...strange, to you?”

“How do you mean?” Eirika asked. The festive Nohrian mulled on her words carefully, trying not to inadvertently insult...well, herself.

“I think she’s taking her role as a big sister far too seriously,” Camilla explained. Eirika was taken aback by this accusation.

“A-aren’t you talking about yourself?” she blurted out. Luckily for her, the spring-festooned Nohrian was patient enough to elaborate.

“There’s not much of a difference between the three of us as you’d think,” Camilla lectured. “We all share a keen interest in protecting our family, especially dear Corrin. We obviously all have the same hobbies and tastes. Oh, and we all think quite fondly of prince Ephraim,” she explained.

“I-I-You?!”

“Calm down Eirika, it’s just a joke,really,” Camilla insisted. “Only the basic form has really had time to interact with him. At most I think they’re just mutual comrades that are highly respected in the Order, that’s all.”

Eirika let out a sigh of relief, much to Camilla’s confusion. Feeling mischievous, the Nohrian princess pressed on. “Although I can’t say I blame her. Your brother is quite a dashing figure. And I certainly don’t blame you for harboring a shine for Xander either!”

Eirika’s face matched her petticoat, making the garishly garbed princess burst into laughter. Eirika was ready to loudly protest such an asinine concept when suddenly-

‘mmmph’

Eirika perked up from her mollification. Somewhere beyond the melodious chortles of Camilla, she’d heard what sounded like another voice. “...D-did you hear something?” the Renais princess asked as her comrade’s laughter died down.

“Ahh..I can’t say I did my dear. Well, better hop to it then,” Camilla declared before walking away. “It was good speaking to you, Eirika,” she called back

“Y-You too…” Eirika trailed off. She stood in the hall for several moments, trying to pinpoint the mysterious sound she’d heard. Finally, she gave up and walked off in the opposite direction...

Siegbert felt the hand on his mouth clamp down even tighter, further muffling his groans between armored fingers. It had the added bane of drawing him even closer into her tits, causing those mountains to roll against his back. The mysterious woman was so close to him, he could hear her breathing through her mask. Her other hand was completely bare and busy rubbing against his exposed length.

She’d caught him again. This time when he had been on his way for a light, early meal before his daily responsibilities could commence. It hadn’t even been anything close to a fight - the assailant had plucked him out of the hallway and into the crawlspace behind the statue before he could even protest.

She grasped his royal scepter with a firm hand. Siegbert winced at as he palm rubbed him raw, a small part of him wondering if she was in a similar state of distress. ‘What am I saying?! She’s an assailant, the enemy!’ the young prince admonished himself.

As if sensing his thoughts, the Assailant gave his base a firm squeeze. The stifled groan was a minor consequence compared to her real intent - the precum dripping out of is slit. The mysterious woman reached up and smeared her palm in his ejaculation before returning to her original task at hand.

“Although I can’t say I blame her. Your brother is quite a dashing figure. And I certainly don’t blame you for harboring a shine for Xander either!”

Siegbert winced in pain as the Assailant’s grip tightened around his girth. If he was in a more cognizant state, he could’ve surmised that the words of his Aunt riled the mysterious woman. Though for what reason he didn’t know.

He heard them walk away, dashing any fears and hopes of being respectively discovered and saved. That left him alone with the Assailant. And they both knew what that meant.

As soon as the sound of footsteps faded away, she doubled her pace. Her palm ran along the long shaft of his noble cock. Muted squelching noises could be heard from behind their nondescript pillar. Finally, her combination of vigorous pumps, squeezes, and twists had him cumming like a hose.

Siegbert didn’t even react as she dropped him and walked away. He fell to his knees, staring at the stained column before him as the sounds of clacking heels lingered in his ears...

“OOF!”

Soleil fell on her ass with a grunt. She winced as Siegbert’s sword hovered a scant few inches from her neck. “Alright alright, you win,” she sighed before quickly re-donning her trademark grin.

“You’re firesweep sword can only do so much,” he said as he returned her smile. He withdrew his blade, offering instead an open palm to aid her up. Soleil took it gladly. The rising sun framed the two, her white shield shining with his black one.

“And here I thought I could take advantage of your flustered state and erk out a victory for once,” she sighed. Siegbert’s warm smile morphed into a look of shock.

“My-what are you?!” He sputtered out his protest.

“You tend to pick up on body language while pursuing cuties,” Soleil shrugged. Her smile morphed to a coy grin as she pressed on, “So who’s the cute girl that’s got you so riled up?”

Siegbert scoffed at his girl-obsessed friend “There is none. But I can assure you that if there was, you’d be the last one I’d tell,” he promised.

“Prince Siegbert, you insult me!” she balked. He watched her overly dramatic act with the barest humor. “I would NEVER dare to trespass on the courtship of the future queen of Nohr!”

Silence passed between the two, broken only by the sound of torches crackling and the moan of the outside wind. Siegbert raised an eyebrow.

“...Well I wouldn’t do it on purpose,” Soleil insisted. Her smile dropped as she elected to change her approach. “Okay seriously. What’s wrong Siegbert?” she asked.

The young prince had the courtesy to address her directly, even if he severely downplayed the crux of his perils. “A personal matter, nothing more.” he insisted.

“Bullshit,” she snapped, making him step back in shock. Her nostrils flared as she walked forward, fire in her eyes as she continued, “I know what goes through your head Siegbert. As your future retainer, I’ll need to know everything that happens to my charge, so spill it!” Soleil insisted.

Siegbert felt his back bump against a training mannequin. He looked into her passionate eyes and struggled not to flinch. “I-I believe you have a mission to get to?” he asked.

Soleil perked up as she recalled her upcoming deployment with Wrys, Dorcas...and Mathilda . Just the thought of sharing a battlefield with the Valentain Valkyrie made the chipper mercenary swoon. She still had the decency to shake off her tastes and offer a final look of concern. “Alright...Take care, Siegbert,” she smiled before walking off.

“Until we meet again,” he waved. His own smile only lasted until she was gone. The weary prince’s shoulders drooped as a deep sigh escaped his lips. His nose wrinkled in disgust as the smell of sweat was made manifest on his body. “I need a shower.”

Siegbert walked into the changing room, discarding his blade as he went. Such an action might’ve been dismissed as naive (especially given his latest string of assaults), but he was no fool. His hands traced the dagger that he’d taken to carrying around.

In truth he should’ve just trudged back to his chambers and used his own arrangements to bathe. Yet like most Heroes that had just finished a vigorous workout, he wasn’t keen to walk across the entire breadth of Fólkhalla sweating his already tired ass off.

He finished stripping out of his regalia, setting it aside in a nearby cupboard. The Nohrian prince wrapped a towel around his waist and departed for the showers. The sheathed dagger still clutched in his hand.

He’d been attacked twice now, each time ending in humiliating defeat. He could begrudgingly admit that the sensations had felt...well, pleasurable , at the time, but that didn’t diminish the disgusting reality. Especially when it was clear how weak he was against such an assault.

Siegbert was in line for the throne of Nohr, and had to be at the top of his game. Anything that wouldn’t serve his eventual role was discarded as irrelevant and useless, including such acts as masturbation. Not to say he wasn’t...serviced, from time to time, but never more than a dutiful maid or attendant's mouth for a quick respite.

The Assailant was different, plain and simple. It wasn’t so much her knowing his weaknesses, as knowing how to exploit his lack of strength. Couple that with the potential shame he could bring on his entire kingdom made him embarrassingly vulnerable. “Yet why do I find myself almost keen to face her again?” he bitterly muttered. His answer was more hissing water.

The prince sighed at the thoughts, straining the wash out of his hair. He blindly reached for the nearby soap…

Squish

Siegbert’s hands rolled against something...soft. His still closed eyes furrowed in confusion, wondering if he’d really grabbed the soap or not. He probed around, trying to see if he could get a better grip on them. He risked opening his eyes for further confirmation...only to see that he’d not grabbed the soap at all.

The prince’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh gods no!” he screamed. His hand flew back, away from the Assailant’s breast. He pulled out the dagger, keeping the sheathe in his free hand. His hardened gaze furrowed in confusion at her state, followed by the blossom on his youthful cheeks. “Wha?!”

He noticed that she’d changed her attire, doing away with the solid black bodysuit. His eyes lingered on her defined abs and her barely covered chest. ‘W-wait, did they shrink? ’ he wondered.

She took advantage of his distraction and struck again, leaving the question of her ‘downgrade’ to the ether. Siegbert barely managed to bring his knife to bear against the tightly woven towel. The blade didn’t cut deep enough, and wound up getting lodged in the towels’ wrap.

He struggled to remove it, unable to do anything as she stole the dagger’s cover from his hand. She swiftly locked the sheath down before snapping her wrist. The now-covered knife flew out of his hands and landed between her cleavage.

The prince gawked at her display of sensual skill, leaving him open for her to finish him. She gathered some nearby soap and threw it at him. On instinct he crossed his arms and clenched his eyes shut, sealing his fate.

The Assailant seized his arms and quickly strung him up, hanging the prince by his wrists on the spewing showerhead. His feet were off the tiled floor, dangling uselessly inches above. Satisfied, she tossed the dagger aside, letting it clatter against the wet ground.

“Unhand me at once!” Siegbert demanded. His command was washed away by the shower’s hiss, reaching but causing no reaction to the woman. She stared at him, her clothes getting progressively wetter. Her exposed skin became increasingly more tantalizing as rivulets of water dripped between her defined abs, down her luscious thighs, across her brazen cleva- ‘Stop damn you! This isn’t the time to be...to be ogling your captor!’ Siegbert admonished himself.

The woman reached up to the cheeks of her helmet and pulled the latches down. The lower jaw came loose, exposing the barest hint of her chin. Anything else was concealed by his own girth and the shadow of her mask.

He grimaced, already knowing what she had in store for him. While his body might be receptive to her advances and even eager to an extent, his mind was a wholly different entity. ‘I am the future king of Nohr - I cannot allow myself to be brought low by some harlot’s flesh!’ he insisted.

Said ‘harlot’ was in the process of rousing his loins. Her clawed fingers lightly danced against his flaccid length, sending shivers up the young man’s spine. With each shockingly restrained touch, more and more of his blood flowed south to his awakening desire.

Once his erection was pointing out, the Assailant changed her tactics. Metal fingers were replaced by her far more pleasurable and equally dangerous tongue. With the prince secured below the pelt of the shower, his captor began to bathe his cock with her spit.

Her prisoner kept struggling, trying to free himself from his bonds. For being a mere towel, this damned thing was surprisingly durable and coiled tight, Beyond that, she’d jammed it right where a decorative groove adorned the faucet head, just before the outward sweeping dish that kept spewing water. He kept glaring at the Assailant, hoping to get some kind of visual tell or clue as to her identity.

He couldn’t see anything

She reared her head up, running her upper teeth over his girth. The combination of pain and pleasure made him pant and whine, traits that were unbecoming of a prince. She crested over his glans, finally clearing the top of his dick. Siegbert let out a sigh in relief, little knowing what was to come.

Gulp!

“Aaah!” he yelped as she gobbled his cock down. Her lips massaged the bottom of his crown. Her gauntlets closed around his hips, forcing more of his dick into her mouth. The prince thrust in response, his body betraying his fear-fettered mind.

The hiss of the shower masked her lewd sounds, allowing her to noisily slurp and drool on his royal girth. Her tongue was relentless in its assault, joining her lips in striking her target. Her head bobbed along his shaft, gradually making her way down to his lap.

Siegbert bit his lips, trying to keep from groaning out loud. He still couldn’t make out any details of the Assailant, since at his angle her mask covered everything. All he knew was that her ministrations were...sloppy, and not just in the intentional way.

Yet despite that, she was also far more skilled than any of the vassal that had ‘attended’ to his nee. ‘S-she’s even better than F...F...F-fffuck!’ his thoughts were cut off as she reached his pubes. Rational thought was kept at bay as he was barraged by a mixture of kisses and drooling coughs.

Siegbert’s hips buckled forward, hoping to stuff more of his dick between her unseen cheeks. The Assailant seemed to comply, but he missed the tightening of her lips. Her hands broke away from his thighs and migrated uup his body. Her fingers traced circles around his taut anus.

Gah!”

The prince howled in pain. His captor ignored his plight and shoved her finger further up his sphincter. The cold steel of her gauntlet contrasted the hot sensations of her throat. “Y-you-!”

Squelch

The assailant hummed as she coaxed out his loads. Rope after rope of Nohrian’ pride disappeared into her stomach, spurred on by her throaty chuckles. Dribbles of cum ran down her chin, falling into the churning currents of the shower-bed.

Siegbert panted, his eyes crossed thanks to the overtly stimulating release. He failed to notice his assailant stand up, his spunk dribbling on her pursed lips. He registered the danger as she grabbed onto the back of his head and spat right in his mouth.

“Mmph?!”

The salty taste assaulted his lips. The prince coughed, trying to repress the knowledge that he was sampling his own seed. Before he could mull on this disgusting fact, he was dropping to the wet ground. The reason was celar - she’d cut clean through his towel shackles with his knife, embedding it in the far wall.

“Damn,” Siegbert winced, thankful that his legs were merely sore. He glanced up to see that the Assailant had vanished. His ears barely picked up the sounds of other men shuffling in the adjacent chambers. “How the devil could she escape?” The prince mused aloud. He looked down at his used cock and the black lip rings that were slowly washing away…

“I don’t know what to do, Aunt Camilla,” he admitted with a sigh. His eyes were shut, his brow furrowed as he poured out his grief and frustration on the confidant above him. If he was at all perturbed at speaking to an alternate form of his aunt, much less laying in her lap, he hid it quite well.

The Holiday Traveler had discarded her saucer and fully devoted her attention to her poor nephew. Her hands softly stroked his blond hair, rustling it and then smoothing it back down in a perpetual cycle. Her exposed violet eye looked over her bust at him in concern.

The gardens were an admittingly odd place to host a therapy session, but it suited their needs well enough. The soft babbling of placid fountains, the swaying of the trees in the calm zephyrs, and the cloudy yet blue skies were all fantastic de-stressing methods.

Camilla mulled his words. She could tell that he wasn’t being entirely honest with her as to the nature of these attacks. Still, she respected his decision and answered with what she had. “Siegbert, what you’re going through...it’s not out of the ordinary. It’s-”

“I know what it is. The Nohrian Trial of the Throne,” he explained as he looked up to her. He could just barely make out her widened eye just above the edge of her breasts. The sight of her chest jiggling made him avert his gaze before continuing, “I don’t care why or who’s doing it...well not as much,” he admitted.

Camilla opted to remain silent and let the boy work through his thoughts. Her hands gave his head one last go-over, restoring his hair to its natural presentation before leaving it be. Her now-free hand dipped down to softly stroke his cheek.

The silence between them was striking, but not exactly uncomfortable. Aunt and nephew opted to enjoy the tones of their surroundings as they wrestled with their thoughts. She reluctantly broke the solitude to softly ask, “So what are you going to do?”

“I think I’ll find a way,” Siegbert declared. He pulled himself up, wincing at the popping in his back. Oh his feet, he was getting ready to depart. Camilla’s hand patted his wrist, enticing him to turn back and face her. She held up a saucer of her sake to him.

“For luck,” she explained. Her nephew eyed the saucer before taking it with a smile. It was barely half full, but that hardly mattered to him. Instead he downed the rice wine, letting the drink pour down his throat.

“Thanks, Aunt Camilla,” he returned the saucer to her before departing.

“Best wishes!” she called back. Her warm smile lasted only until she was sure he was gone before morphing into a despondent grimace. She tossed away the saucer in favor of drinking straight from the bottle.

“Camilla, you idiot…” the woman bitterly declared as she downed more of her sake...

The apartments were dark, Curtains drawn, torches extinguished. The drapes of Siegbert’s poster bed were pulled together, exposing only a minute amount of the inside sheets. The wind moaned outside, perfectly masking the muted creak of the opening door.

The Assailant quietly glided through the shadows. Her heels landed with soft blows, even on the unforgiving stone floor. Her movements were far more agile, thanks to the omission of her leggings and her half skirt. The rest of her armor was also stripped away, leaving only the two piece suspenders, her mask, and a pair of manacles in her hands.

She pulled back the far curtain, keeping the traces of moonlight from entering his bed. The unmistakable lump of a body was beneath the sheets. She reached up to pull the cover back…

The comforter flew up into her face, making her recoil in shock. She threw the heavy sheet away, only to see the prince was already up in her face. His black night robe billowed, making it harder to discern where to grab onto him at first. Instead she lunged forward, grabbing him and forcing him back onto the bed with her free hand.

Siegbert acted quickly, grabbing her wrists and pulling them aside. His legs snapped up, latching around her waist. With concentrated effort, he rolled her over, forcing the Assailant’s back into the sheets. He released one of her wrists long enough to bash her masked head against the headboard. Thunk!

The woman was dazed by his assault, snapping back just in time to hear the ‘clink’ of her shackles. A quick glance up confirmed her suspicions. Her target had wrapped the bindings around his headboard and latched them onto her wrists. She attempted to wrest them free, causing the board to shake.

Struggle all you want, you’re not getting free,” Siegbert coldly explained. He discarded his robe, exposing his naked body and stiff erection to her hidden eyes. The prince pulled out a dagger that had been perched near the top of one of the posts and pointed it towards her. “One false move, and this goes between your eyes. Got it?” he explained, watching her resistance stop.

She said nothing, but gave a slow, methodical nod. Satisfied with her compliance, Her captor crawled towards her. He loomed over her, dagger in hand. With a steel glare, he brought the blade down and placed it under her heaving chest..

He sliced up her top, causing the material to split apart. The moment his blade cleared the valley of her breasts, the two side flew apart. Her now-free tits bounced, eventually coming to a halt as the inertia wore off.

Satisfied, Siegbert planted the dagger in one of the posts, keeping it close at hand in case she tried anything. The Assailant remained still as he pulled apart her jaw plate, throwing it aside when it was off. Her now-exposed lips were locked in a defiant snarl. “Open it,” he ordered.

Her lips remained sealed.

Siegbert pulled out the knife and pointed it at her skull. “Open it,” he repeated. His hand dipped down until the dagger was placed at the slit between her mask and the armored cowl. He didn’t repeat himself a third time. One tap against her helmet coaxed her to open her mouth.

Mmph

The prince slammed his dick into her lips, the dagger still perched atop her head. His captive was dutiful, tending to his loins. Her tongue stayed flat, but her throat was active instead. The vibrations of her throaty groans caused him to latch onto one her horns for support.

Despite his carnal tones, Siegbert wasn’t satisfied with her performance. “T-three times you humiliated me, and you think THIS meager showing will fix all that?” he asked. Her response was a protesting gurgle, much to his ire.

The prince planted the dagger into the headboard, out of her reach. His now-free hand grabbed her other horn and slammed all the way into her hot mouth. He felt her wet lips kiss his base, followed by the her startled tongue as he pulled back.

Glrk glrk

Siegbert’s hands gripped her horns as he skullfucked her. Her tongue angrily lashed against his dick, only managing to make it easier for him to slide in and out of her abused mouth. Even then, it was so hot, so tight. He felt the pressure building in his balls. And let out a warning. “Be ready, harlot!”

“Mmphh mmh?!”

Her protests quickly died down as his jizz came bursting forth. Rope after rope of Nohrian cum shot down her throat. The price laboriously pulled himself up, bringing his ejaculating cock out of her throat. An errant shot flew up her nose, causing her to snort his spunk onto his own shaft. The burning sensation caused him to hiss in pain, a luxury that was not afforded to his captive.



Siegbert pulled his sputtering dick out of her mouth. He listened to her cough out his loads. The sight of his milky seed dripping down her exposed chin made him surge with pride. He was tempted to enact the next phase of his plan then and there. ‘Not yet. First I need my secret weapon,” he declared.

The prince tossed a pillow over her mask, not wanting her to see his next move. Satisfied that she was temporarily blinded, Siegbert walked over to his dresser and procured a little brown bottle. ‘I doubt anyone’s going to notice its absence. We’ve got three hundred of the damn things collecting dust,’ he rationalized his theft. The cork came off, filling his nostrils with the less-than-pleasing fragrance of a stamina potion.

He’d taken a little of it in preparation for tonight, just enough to help him last a little longer in his attempt to fight back. But with victory now secured,he had greater machinations in mind. The kind that wouldn’t due for him to be over so quickly.

So he downed the rest.

His body instantly felt the effects of the stamina potion. His fatigue drained away, his dick was hardened to full mast again. He set the bottle down before turning back to his captive.

The Assailant perked up as his weight displaced the mattress. She struggled up until he settled back between her legs. If Siegbert wasn’t currently invested in his plan, he might’ve picked up on something odd in her behavior.

He ripped open her shorts with deft ease. The way it broke left her pussy and ass exposed, but the darkness meant he couldn’t make out what color pubes she had. It didn’t matter, not when his goal was beneath her somewhat tamed patch...

The Assailant moaned as the cold air caressed her exposed privates. Her tone sounded almost...familiar. Siegbert shook it off and proceeded with his next phase of revenge. The prince pulled up her legs and poked his dick against her ass.

He saw her body stiffen as he pressed against her puckered anus. “Do you feel that?” he bitterly asked. “This is the dick you’ve been using and abusing so shamelessly. The same one that’s going to split your ass until your a quivering wreck,” he snarled.

The Assailant said nothing, but he could see the pursing of her abused lips under her mask. It wasn’t the kind of face that accompanied fear, but rather doubt. In retaliation, the prince pressed down harder, his glans disappearing between her cheeks. “That’s not a threat, wench. It’s a promise,” he clarified.

Siegbert threw the pillow away, exposing her ghoulish masked face once more. “Look me in the eyes if you don’t believe me,” he growled. The woman said nothing, though he could tell she was indeed appraising his worth. When he noticed her wilt ever so slightly, he pressed her further. “Well, are you convinced?”

She said nothing, not even a snarl passed her lips. The prince was already long done with her crap and roared right into her impassive visage.

“ANSWER ME DAMN YOU!”

His fingers wrapped around her neck. He didn’t intend to choke her, but rather to find the straps that kept her helmet in place. He found a trio of straps near her nape - two that connected to the head piece, and one that held the collar together. The prince blindly pulled them all apart.

The collar loosened, detaching from the helmet itself. Siegbert once again grabbed her horns and pulled it off. As the helmet cleared her head, a beam of cold moonlight broke through the clouds and peeked in through the slit in the curtain.

The helmet dropped out of his limp fingers. His now-dry throat struggled to rasp out the horrifying truth of her identity. When he finally spoke, it was quiet as a whisper. “A-Auntie Camilla?”

“Well, aren’t you going to finish what you started?” She coolly asked. The warmth that usually filled her eyes was utterly absent, replaced by a cold edge as she glared at her dear nephew. Her breasts jiggled with every heavy, labored breath. Her usually full hair was kept in place by a black coif.

Siegbert’s frayed mind tried to rationalize what he was seeing. Could this be a trick?’ he asked, recalling the infamous barrier that Hoshido had kept up for so very long. Who’s to say that a similar magic couldn’t be weaved here in Askr?

“What’s wrong? Is this really such a shock to you?” She needled him. Her wrists strained against the shackles, making the wooden headboard groan in protest. Still her nephew said nothing. ‘Come on Siegbert. I know you’re stronger than this,’ she silently pleaded.

He flinched at her words, trying to balance the hurt and the rage that now threatened to consume him. “W-Why are-” he started, only for her to cut him off.

“Does it matter?!” Camilla snapped. “Your foe is captured, your punishment was made manifest. Are you going to turn craven on your royal decree?!” she snarled.

Further words died in her throat as pain consumed her. Her harsh gaze morphed into one of absolute shock. The buxom woman started hyperventilating, making her unbound cleavage heave with every labored breath. She looked down to her nephew, seeing that he had indeed made good on his threat.

“Shut up,” He growled. His cock had pierced the tight ring of her ass, stretching it out to accommodate his girth. His own pain was of minor consequence to him. “You’ve attempted to assault a royal of Nohr. your punishment will be administered by me, ” he snarled.

His decree rang in her ears, a backing piece to the pain that accompanied her sodomy. Yet despite being in such an uncomfortable state, Camilla couldn’t help but let a thin smirk adorn her face. ‘That’s the way, Siegbert,’ she silently praised. When he glanced up to her face, seeing it contorted in agony.

Her nephew made it halfway in before he elected to start thrusting. The two sucked air in through their teeth, him more so than her. Her hips buckled, trying to fight back against the pressure. His hands on her sides put an end to that minute insurrection.

Camila howled in pain as her nephew speared her ass. Her nails scraped against the headboard, causing it to groan and buckle. Tears streaked down her clenched eyes. The slapping of skin and the rattling of chains were all she knew. The shackles she’d used weren’t exactly in top form, but she still put on a show.

...At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Camilla’s grunts seemed to spur her nephew on. His speed increased as her tight rear was reamed and loosened. Her untouched pussy was gushing now, spewing her nectar down her legs. Some of it landed on Siegbert’s cock, giving it an extra bit of lubrication to further his incetuous incursions.

His aunt was fighting back. Not physically against him, but mentally against herself. This was a trial - a rite of passage. ‘I-I shouldn’t be taking pleasure out of this,’ the princess chided herself.

As soon as she stepped out of the bath’s that night, she knew this was going to happen. She knew that her attacks against her nephew would end with her getting rightfully plowed in retaliation. Him fucking her ass was...not what she’d expected.

Contrary to the unsavory rumors, Camilla was far from promiscuous. She had lost her virginity and had a fling or two, nothing with the raw passion that she yearned for. Ever since she’d arrived in Askr, she had been too invested in keeping her family safe and happy to consider scratching the itch.

Siegbert’s cock in her ass was having far more of an impact then she’d anticipated. His thrusts pushed her against the headboard, knocking her coif off and freeing her hair. Her usually immaculate tresses were splayed out, an apt match for her thoroughly sweat-soaked skin.

‘It’s for Siegbert. It’s for Siegbert...it’s for...forrrrr’

No matter how many times she repeated that mantra, it was clear that it was becoming increasingly more of a lie. Her mind’s protests became softer and softer until they were little more than a whisper. One rough thrust obliterated the facade and left the high princess of Nohr as a screaming, raving mess.

“F-fuck! That’s it Sieeegbert!” she screeched. Her sopping wet pussy gushed as an electrifying orgam ravaged her body. Siegbert winced as he felt some of the carnal juices splash onto his stomach, but otherwise kept sodomizing his aunt. The dagger nearby was jostled loose and fell behind the bed.

Chink!

Rnnnk, Snap!

Camilla broke her restraints with alarming ease. Her now-free hands wove around her nephew’s back, pushing him into her cleavage with every thrust. Her nails dug into his skin, the cold chains lightly lashed against his body.

The young prince was too preoccupied with punishing her to notice the potential danger. He capitalized on her desperation by biting down on her nipple. He winced as her nails broke through his skin, causing the wet sensation of blood to trickle down his back.

His aunt hissed as the pain threw her out of her climactic haze. He’d raised a hand to manhandle her other tit, tweaking her adjacent nipple as he gnashed at the sore nub. Her heavy gulps for air made it hard to make out what she was saying.

“Fu-huh-huh-ck your na-aaaaah-ughty auntie!” she begged. Her hands migrated up to his head, clutching him for dear life. Her fingers now rolled through his hair, urging him to lavish her breasts with more judgement. Punish me-eeeee!”

Her shrill voice snapped him out of his lull. He’d been so captivated by her swaying bosom that he’d taken the first chance he could. Yet this was supposed to be her punishment. ‘I need to remind her who’s in charge,’ he chided himself before barking out, “On your knees!”

The speed of her obeying his wishes nearly took his head off. Her dagger-like heel swiftly cleared around the front of his head, adjusting with her body as she settled into the position he desired. His cock still pulsed and throbbed in her cavity. She looked back at her nephew, pleading for more. “Beg for it,” he ordered.

“My sweet nephew-” she started.

SMACK

“SAY MY NAME!” he roared. His hand lingered on her now-red rump, squeezing the copious cushion before rearing back for another smack. Camilla choked back her sobs against his attacks before finally screaming.

“FUCK MY ASS, SIEGBERT!”

He winced as her voice cracked, but ultimately fulfilled her request. His hands locked down on her hips, giving him the leverage he needed to slam his length all the way into her sphincter. “A-Ahhh!” she yelped.

Her nephew ignored her plea in favor of beginning his rhythm anew. He watched as her shapely rump compressed and jiggled with every thrust. The fact that this coveted ass was his reinforced his already strengthened ego. He let go of one of her hips and raised his hand…

Smack!

Camilla moaned as her rear was struck. The fair shade of her derriere reddened under the force of his blow. A series of follow up strikes assured that his mark wouldn’t be fading anytime soon. it was a mark, an esoteric form of brand that ensured that at least for tonight, she was his.

His aunt grabbed onto the headboard for dear life. She endured his assault, lips biting down until she tasted copper. Her already puffy eyes were filled with more tears, a futile coping mechanism as her body struggled to endure the balance of pain and pleasure. One vigorous blow had enough force to make her lose her grip, sending her crashing into the bedspread.

Camilla’s screams were muffled in the pillow, utterly lost against the thunderous cracks of his dick against her ass. Her pussy juices cascaded down onto the sheets, creating a noticeable stain between her knees. She knew this was going too far, and that she should be putting a stop to it.

But gods forbid, she wanted this.

Tears and drool dripped onto the pillow, her breathing became increasingly more short as she was pushed further and further into the cushion. Time was lost to her as she adjusted to her world of debauchery and sin.

She felt his hand slam down on her bottom, always out of sync with the onslaught on her anus. The princess had long since forgotten how many strikes they were up too, it no longer mattered to her. She was so used to the pain that when his hand rose up, she braced herself for the next blow…

...but it didn’t come. Instead his hand scooped up the long tresses of her hair and pulled back. Camilla’s head was thrust from her pillow, sending excess tears, drool, and a little bit of nose-cum flying.

The princess struggled onto her elbows, holding onto the base of the headboards’ bars like her life depended on it. His ironclad grip in her hair pulled her head tight, her neck winding up parallel to the wall. Her eyes rolled up, barely able to make out her nephew behind her.

Siegbert used his free hand and gave her other ass cheek a slap, causing her skin to ripple even more. He relished the way her shapely rump would flatten as his loins smashed into her. There was no denying that his aunt was a gorgeous woman, and he was more than eager to exploit this opportunity that he had with her.

And exploit it he did.

He exchanged hands on her hair, now pulling the bundles of lilac tresses back with his right palm. His left reached around her hips and grabbed her breast. He could only hold one in place, the other kept swaying to the rhythm of related rutting. He let go of her hair in favor of forcing her cheek to the side and capturing her lips.

Camilla’s eye widened as his tongue invaded her mouth. His hips rolled against her rump. His fingers clamped down on her tits. Her core seared with erotic fire and her ass was locked down on his cock.

Siegbert flinched, feeling his aunt’s body spasm as yet another orgasm left her a puddle in his sheets. His own release wasn’t too far off. The stamina potion had done wonders, but in the end he succumbed to his aunt’s ass.

Camilla screamed into his mouth, her eyes rolled back. Her nephew’s potent seed shot straight into her rectum. Her sphincter was coated in white. His cock kept her ass plugged nice and tight, keeping a single dollop of cum from leaking out.

Siegbert collapsed, crashing into her shapely back. The added weight of her nephew made Camilla’s shaky grip falter, sending her into the disheveled, stained bed spread. She turned her head, barely registering the sight of the moon looking back at her.

And then she saw no more.

“-The means of escalation,” Siegbert sighed, moreso from the revelation than the ministration.

Camilla’s soft hands gently stroked his cock, rubbing the soaked cloth up and down its length to cleanse it. He gave another moan as she wiped between his balls before she withdrew.

The two were now separated, their bodies wracked with exhaustion. His aunt had done away with the remains of her attire, leaving her utterly naked in his presence as he was hers. The thoroughly ruined sheets were covered in sweat, cum, and other various bodily fluids.

“That’s right. I had to push you with each encounter, intending for you to finally take charge and turn the tables on your assailant,” Camilla explained. She pulled the cloth out of the bowl and brought it back to his dirty loins.

Siegbert grumbled at her words and deed. “What would’ve happened if I failed tonight?” he asked, knowing what the answer would be if it was anyone but his auntie.

“Custom would dictate that I kill you...but how could I bring myself to maim my darling nephew?” Camilla asked with a sad smile.

“Then what about in the shower? Making me taste my own cum and dropping me on the ground?” he prodded her. His aunt had the decency to flinch before she tried excusing herself.

I went too far there. Can you forgive your naughty auntie, Siegbert?” she pleaded. The tone she used was the one he knew, not the one that had been thrown in his face hours before. But he remembered those moments so vividly,and his next words made that all too clear.

“You are not my aunt. Not anymore,” he explained. Camilla stopped her ministrations and looked at him, equal parts shocked and hurt by his revelation. Out of respect for her feelings and their once--harmonious relationship, he elaborated.

When we’re in the halls, we will continue as normal. But the moment we’re alone, the second that I bid you down, you are not my aunt,” he explained. She finished her work and set the bowl aside, off the unstable surface of the disheveled bed.

“Then what am I to you?” she whispered. He elected to answer her by action, grabbing her chin and pulling her up to his cold gaze. The steel in her kindly nephew’s red eyes made her shiver, even before he opened his mouth and decreed her fate.

“A means to my ends.”

Camilla felt a swell of pride at his response. Not so much the words or the intent, but the tone that backed them. Gone was the polite yet shaky tone of a young prince. His words were hard, uncompromising. Like a King should be.

With an unseen gesture, she bid her shadow to depart. At last her darling nephew was ready to take the reins in his father’s absence. She permitted him to grab her by her hair and force her face down into his clean cock. “As you command, prince Siegbert,” she purred.

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


NOTE - The following work contains a coupling between confirmed blood relations. If that doesn’t interest you, Please be respectful and don’t leave flaming comments disparaging those that want to read it. Thank you.


Ephraim’s brow was furrowed as he stared at the nonsensical request in front of him. He was tempted to crumple it up, but that would only bring forth the next in the unbearably large pile that sat on his desk. So it remained, much to his eyes’ displeasure.

‘You’d think having more than a dozen Lords in Askr would divy these tasks up better,’ the prince growled. While that obviously should’ve been the case, there was still the matter of being sent on missions to consider. Hell, if he hadn’t be forced to take a party into that blasted Tempest maybe this mountain of missives would’ve been more of a mound.

Celica and Seliph had missions. Hector, Roy, and Chrom were likewise busy with requisite training. There was Eirika to consider, but she was indisposed at the moment. That just left Lyn, the Corrins, and himself to deal with these farces.

“Why the blazes isn’t the summoner doing this?” Ephraim mused as he stamped a big fat REJECTED on a request to use shards for power boosts. “If that fop would put in half as much effort into his archery as he does flirting, he could easily be a Silfr by now,” the prince scoffed.

He continued on this monotonous display, slapping the seal on each form with barely a second to mull their request. The fact that all these forms had a dull gray border denoted that they were all frivolous at best, meaning he didn’t need to invest too much thought into them. So instead His mind wandering to the eventful month he’d been having...

He stifled a groan by clamping down on her neck. She winced as his lips joined his palms and groin in their clothed assault. “Ah! N-not so rough,” she pleaded. Her fingers clenched the column that was barely concealing them from the foyer.

Ephraim ignored her in favor of squeezing her breasts. Her modest tits strained against her red top, relishing a respite from her usual breastplate. It gave him the pleasure of feeling her erect nipples just beneath the material of her blouse.

She whined, pressing her skirt-clad ass tighter against his pants. In response he doubled down in his attempts to spread her cheeks. Her hands flew up to stifle her increasingly louder moans. As a result her head tapped against the cold stone, further tussling her hair.

The prince of Renais took pride in his deeds, reducing the poor girl in his clutches to a puddle of want and desire. He nipped down on her nape, further testing her resolve. The muted whimpers that escaped her lips made his arousal throb between her derriere.

Ephraim reluctantly removed one of his hands in favor for pulling out his secret weapon. The squirming lass squealed as he hoisted her up, pressing her shapely rear against his lap. Her eyes took a moment to adjust before she beheld the taintilizing treat that was now dangling right in front of her. A trio of grapes from their earlier meal swaying between his fingertips.

Without thinking, she gobbled them up, taking his two fingers into her mouth at the same time. She used her tounge to suckle and squeeze out the juices, staining her teeth and his digits. He pumped his fingers in and out of her lips for good measure.

“Shall we continue here?” he asked, calm and poised as if he wasn’t actively frisking a rather prominent figure within eyeshot of the dining hall. He drew his fingers to the side to permit her to respond

“Yesh, oh godsh yesh!” she moaned. A slight hiccup brought some grape juice out the side of her lips. “Eee-phra-”

Bam!

“Urk!”

“Eirika, are you alright?!”

Ephraim was snapped out of his musings as he heard a ruckus outside. It would seem that Frederick had started his ‘electoral’ remedial exercise course. He’d watched a few of the sessions, taking a small amount of pity on whoever had been roped into the disarmingly polite knight’s clutches.

He returned to his work with the backdrop of shouting and laborious pained groans in the background. Yet his mind was still not fixated on the pointless requests, but instead on the woman he cherished above all others. ‘Eirika, my dear sweet sister…’

What he shared with his twin sister was special, sacred, yet very very sacrilegious. None of their friends knew the truth, and that suited the two just fine. He still remembered the day of his arrival and how as soon as he’d been shown to his chamber, he had immediately called her up to his suite. They spent that night christening every square inch of his apartments.

Askr’s war was a perfect distraction from the battle for Magvel. Suddenly their occasional trysts in forests or camp tents could be fully enjoyed in the opulent quarters they’d been offered. It mostly came to his chambers as an exemplary mariglòd and the spacious rooms they had to revel in. And revel they did.

‘My bathroom, the sitting room, both closets, the kitchen AND the dining room. both chairs and the couch in the foyer and the windows...We really should use the bedroom more often,’ he chuckled at the thought.

Sadly though, their conflicting duties started to split their focuses. As two lords that bore decent combat ability, the twins were both sought-after for squad missions and often had to leave for days at a time. It left them in an empty bed, wondering when the other would return. And while the reunion sex was significantly longer and raunchier, even it started to have its toll on them.

And then Eirika decided to be a little bold, a little more daring. It was her idea to spice up their taboo affair with a few exhibitionism flings. He’d be lying to say her ideas didn’t entice him, and he was happy to oblige her. ‘Not that it’s gone well so far…’ he sulked as the disastrous debacle at the gala flashed in his mind...

Ephraim latched onto her nape, causing Eirika to mewl with pleasure. Her hand squeezed her chest, only for her brother to wrest her away and take her place. She squirmed as his fingers traced circles around her sopping quim. “E-phra-aaaah,” she moaned.

“Already? You’re practically mush in my hands, dear sister,” he chuckled. The wet patch on their blanket was already big enough to be noticeable. Yet despite that, he was remarkably calm and almost cheerful. “So who do you think Lilina was talking about?”

“I don’t kno-ohhhhhh,” she whimpered. Having him teasing her pussy during that time had made it impossible to really talk to the marquess’ daughter. The guilt that she’d felt at the time was once again washed away as his finger pierced her loins. “Hnnnng!”

Her brother’s lips nibbled on her ear, silently smirking with every coo and cry. The same lust that accompanied his time on the battleground was condensed and directed at this poor young woman. Not that she particularly minded his assaults.

Eirika squealed in delight, pushing her sopping loins onto his intrusive fingers. His naked digits swirled around her walls, tracing incoherent runes within her core. He held her in a gentle but firm grip, keeping her thrashing contained to his lap.

“Brotherrrrrrr,” she moaned. Her older sibling was lathering her neck with his tongue, leaving a few trace nibbles every now and again. His fingers tweaked her nipples, finding an eclectic tandem with his fingerwork down below. He played with her body like an exquisite fiddle, honed by years of awkward trial and error.

Eirika panted, wanting more. Her hands dived between her legs and fished out Ephraim’s cock. She felt it slap her ass before it straightened out between her thighs. She lifted her hips, prompting her brother to extract his pumping fingers. Her pussy hovered just above his blazing hot spear…

Clank Clink Clank

The clanking of armor snapped them back to reality. Eirika’s legs clamped shut around his wilting girth. Her brother had just barely managed to cover them with the blanket when the marquess lumbered into view.

“Hector?!”

Knock knock

Ephraim snapped out of his musing in time to hear the rappling on the door. “Enter,” He commanded. He put down his quill as the door opened. “Ah Seth, please come in,” Ephraim insisted.

The General of the Renais’ Knights walked in, closing the door behind him. Ephraim was prepared to greet him when an unsavory word caught his eye on one of the next reports. Seth paused in mild confusion as his lord crumpled up the missive and tossed it aside. “My lord?” he inquired.

Ephraim shook his head and muttered, “Disgusting,” before recalling he had just received a visitor. One who had just seen him tear up a pointless incident report regarding the twins more benign antics. “Hmm? Ah it's nothing. You have something to report?” Ephraim asked.

The silver knight snapped to attention, arm crossed against his back, as he gave a curt bow. “A meeting has been called by Commander Anna between some of the distinguished members of the Order,” he explained.

“Very well, I shall be along shortly after I inform Eirika,” Ephraim stated. His causal declaration caused the knight to stiffen, an act that didn’t go unnoticed. Seth cleared his throat before elaborating.

About that…” he started, clearly not pleased to be the bearer of this news. “One of the...attendees, have requested that Lady Eirika be barred from the proceedings,” Seth finished. He braced himself for his lord’s fiery reaction.

...

“OUTRAGEOUS!” Ephraim roared, slamming his fists on the desk. He attempted to raise to his feet.

Thunk!

The sound of bone hitting wood echoed throughout the office. Seth winced at the visceral sound, while Ephraim was stunned. He glanced down as realization flashed across his face.

His ‘indisposed’ sister had been with him this entire time, nursing his loins between her lips. She’d been so placid in her work that he’d forgotten Eirika was down there. To make matters worse, she was lulled over to the side, her eyes closed.

Ephraim glanced up to see the look of horror on Seth’s face. It was all too obvious that he had seen his lady in such a compromised state, with her twin brother no less. ‘Oh gods this is it. This is the end,’ the lord grimly mused.

“...my lord, are you alright?” Seth finally asked.

"Yes... I mean. No!” Ephraim quickly sat back down and winced in pain. Damm, my knees!" he hissed.

Seth watched as his lord dealt with his pain. To keep up the act, Ephraim vigorously rubbed his thigh with one hand. His other arm looked still, but was actually gently roaming his sister’s head for any bumps or bruises. His relief at finding none was masked with a sigh.

“Just a cramp from training I fear. I’ll get it sorted out before we convene,” he explained. His fabricated humiliation was paltry compared to the risk of Seth finding out the truth of his lord and lady. He looked up from his dual action and tried to push the conversation along. “When does the meeting begin?”

“It starts in ten minutes, Lord Ephraim. Shall I inform them you will be late?” Seth asked. His liege nodded, still preoccupied with his ailment. “As you wish. Will you be needing a healer?”

“That won’t be necessary, Seth. I’ll see you there,” Ephraim dismissed him. Seth gave a farewell bow before departing. The prince’s thin smile dropped the second he heard the tumbler’s shake into place.

“Shit. that was far too close,” he admonished himself. Ephraim pulled his chair back, giving him more room to analyze his prone sibling. He slowly pulled her off his dick, wincing as her tongue subconsciously licked his shaft. His glans finally cleared her full lips with a subdued pop .

She drooled in his absence, threatening to stain her dress. Ephraim quickly scooped it up with a cloth. A quick survey down her body confirmed that she had no other messes to attend to. Satisfied, her brother hoisted her up,and carried her to his nearby couch.

He gingerly set her down, making sure to prop up her head with a spare pillow. Eirika looked serene as always, her face no longer carrying even the slightest scrunch of pain. Her brother couldn’t help himself, and wasted precious moments softly stroking her hair away from her face. He leaned down and pecked her full lips.

He tasted his own loins, but that hardly mattered to him. It was a simple, chaste kiss, one that ended far too quickly. But duty called. ‘Still, I shouldn’t just leave her to wake up without explanation,’ he thought...

Eirika winced as she closed the office door. She had no way of knowing what time it was, or even how long she’d been in there or passed out. Her other hand clutched her head, grumbling at the pain that shot through her skull. She looked at the note that her brother had left for her to find.

I’m So Sorry ~~ Ephraim

Her hand clutched the apology. A deep sigh escaped her lips. ‘Another failed attempt...why? Why is this so hard?’ she lamented.

It seemed like a sound idea at the time, at least to her. Eirika had always wanted to prod the boundaries of their sordid little affair, and Askr seemed like an apropos time and place to do so. It took her a few days and a few lays to get Ephraim on board with it, and that should’ve been it right?

‘And then I had to go and bar us from having sex in the bedroom...why?!’

Eirika ignored the temptation to bash her head in against a nearby column. The mistake made by past-Eirika in a foolhardy attempt to spice up this already insane plan of hers had backfired big time. ‘How many times did we get interrupted and leave me simmering and frustrated?’ she lamented.

‘Let’s see...the lobby, the gala, the hot spring….um….Oh! The sparring wing’ she mentally snapped her finger. ‘There was one more...which was it though?’

Eirika nearly bumped into one of the younger Heroes, a dark mage carrying a stack of books that covered his head. She was too preoccupied to notice, or hear his impotent rage against her. The rustling of pages from the displaced books made her instantly recall the third encounter…

“We’re alone in here you know, so why are you holding back?” Ephraim cooed in her ear. She responded by rubbing her ass against his dick, relishing the feeling of his bare loins against her naked rump. Her hand clutched down on her cape, squeezing the rich golden garment into the wooden bookshelf.

The twins had stripped down to their nethers, a luxury provided by the obscenely long row of books that dominated the Jugdral chamber of the archives. While the door was paradoxically silent, it would still take someone at least a minute to reach either end from the entrance. Enough time for them to throw at least their clothes back on or simply hide beneath the table.

Such an escape plan was far from their minds. Instead they were focused on making up for lost time. The last two attempts had ended in disaster and killed the mood both times. But not now, this was sure to work.

Eirka felt him squeeze her asscheek, giving her rump a smack for good measure. Their gyrations caused the books to rattle on the shelves. Her nails tightened against the wood, securing her in place under his onslaught. A wanton moan escaped her, “Eeeeeeph-mmph.”

His lips brushed against hers, slowly coaxing out her tongue for more fun. She followed him gladly, fencing his in an incestuous kiss. ‘This is how we started all those years ago...;’ she mused. Thoughts of those ancient nights were they would steal away to each others chambers and explore their growing bodies caused her moist lips to drip onto the floor. Ephraim reluctantly broke away and gently cupped her cheek.

“I’m sorry this isn't as exciting as you want, but at least now we can finish what we started,” Ephraim lovingly explained. The tone he used was reserved for her ears alone. Knowing that she had such an intimate privilege made her smile through her rosy cheeks.

“P-put it in me, puh-please dear brotherrrrrr,” she whined. Her core was practically on fire now, sending sparks of white-hot ecstasy up her body. His fingers brushed her pussy, forcing her to bite down on her cape to muffle her scream.

Ephraim probed her loins, lazily pumping his digits in and out of her dripping folds. His sister spat and cursed into her cape, staining the opulent accessory in her spit. Her thrashing caused several of the lighter books to rattle off the shelves, landing on the carpet with a muted thump.

Her brother watched with a smirk. Just as she had the privilege of his tenderness, Ephraim had the exclusive right to Eirika’s fouler side. The raunchy, kinky face that had kickstarted this carnal charade.

He honored her muffled pleas and got into position. Her brother thrust his dick one last time against her ass before pulling it down between her legs. His bulbous head came to a rest mere inches from her puffy, gushing entrance. Eirika sucked in air as she felt his dick poke her folds. Her fingers clenched the cape so tight it briefly brushed against the staggered books…

“I-Is anyone in here?”

‘For fuck’s sake!’ she mentally screamed.

It had taken far more restraint than she’d thought possible to pull off their recovery. Having to replace her clothes in tandem with Ephraim’s exaggerated motions and ramblings about ‘misplaced books’ had been quite the experience. So much so that she had to resist the urge to jump his bones then and there, damned be the consequences.

But in the end, prudence barely eked out, and the two were in presentable state when they finally met Deirdre around the side of the aisle. Any further thoughts of pulling him aside to another chamber to find ‘their’ elusive book were dashed at the heartfelt reunion between mother and son. ‘I can’t blame her in the slightest, not when I acted exactly the same way, ’ Eirika smiled.

Eirika had come to Askr first, and had waited a long time for more of her friends to join her. Seth, L’archel, and Myrrh had eventually arrived. Yet while she was happy to see them, a part of her still desperately yearned for her brother.

And then one day...he came. Stepping out of the prismatic tunnel that marked the entrance of all the Heroes from across some eclectic tree or whatever it was Sharena had said. It all went over Eirika’s head really, and caused her no small part of grief and lamentation about the fact.

Ever since Ephraim had arrived, she’d been so very, very happy. Even as more and more of their friends came forth, she found her rock and her heart in his arms. He was more than just family to her, he was her beloved Lord.

And she had showed him that reverence every single night until her stupid plan.

Eirika slowed to a crawl, noticing that her meaningless wanders had taken her to one of the connecting hallways. Wide,open arches showcased the adjacent courtyard. Off in the distance, she could see the training wing and the discernible specks that were practicing there. ‘We were so close there,’ she recalled...

“Oooooooh”

Eirika mewled in delight. Her fingers tightened around Ephraim’s neck. Her leg pushed his hips closer, limiting the extent that he could back out of her happily stuffed pussy. His hands tightened around her hips. Her back rubbed against the dividing wall that separated the archery lane from the rest of the training hall.

The two panted, their clothes matted with sweat. The rumbles of a night’s storm were inconsequential compared to the thunderous claps of sibling sin. Their weapons were tossed aside, her discarded panties symbolically atop Siegmund.

pat pat pat pat pat

Ephraim slammed into her pussy, making his sister arch her back and moan in delight. Her crafty brother latched onto her neck, suckling her vulnerable flesh. “Y-your being sooooo ro-uuhhh-gh,” she complained.

“You left me waiting,” he growled. She knew what he was talking about, and it wasn’t their current liaison. “I had already warmed up for you, and you. Weren’t. There.”

“They kidnapped me-eeeeeee,” Eirika insisted. She’d already had to talk her brother out of hunting down Princess Sheena. And she hated to admit it, but the day’s drought had made this actual romp feel amazing.

PAT PAT PAT PAT PAT PAT

Her ass slapped the wooden barrier. Her lidded eyes were scarcely adjusted to the dim torch light. She was short of breath, mired in sweat. “It feels so wonderful” she wheezed.

“I-I’m so close…” he warned her. His sister wiggled her hips, impatient for his seed.

Krrrrrk...BOOOM!

“E-Ephraaaaaa-”

Crash!

‘For fuck’s sake!’

“Eirika!”

Eirika was broken out of her bitter recollections as someone hailed her. She shook away the tragic image of her brother swiftly pulling his pants back on in favor of addressing whoever had called her. “Hello!...oh.”

‘For. Fuck’s. Sake.

Standing behind her were two of the culprits for her recent strife - Gwendolyn and Effie. The duo of lady knights were approaching her, a wide smile on the latters face. Neither one had their traditional plating and were instead in modest attire.

“So hey… I wanted to apologize about the other night,” Gwen sheepishly explained. Effie nodded alongside her, her face impassive.

“T-think nothing of it,” Eirika insisted. Gwen seemed okay with that, but Effie stepped forward. Eirika kept her smile up, even as the calculating eye of Elise’s retainer appraised her. ‘Oh gods, did I leave a trace of Ephraim on me?’ Eirika wondered.

“..You’re hurt,” Effie stated. Gwen blinked in shock, alongside the princess of Renais herself. ‘H-how did she notice that?!’ Eirika wondered before following up.

“Just a training accident,” Eirika insisted. It wasn’t entirely a lie, and helped to sidestep what kind of ‘training’ she’d been involved with. ‘Somehow I doubt that there’s a mission for deepthroating,’ Eirika mentally giggled.

“...think its something a good drink would fix?” Gwendolyn asked. Effie and Eirika turned to her, the former with a look of minor annoyance on her face. Before the Nohrian knight could chastise her Etruian ally, Eirika answered.

“Eh, why not?”

The tavern of the Order of Heroes was an interesting place.

Once upon a time it was the sole barracks of the outpost of Fólkhalla . When the Order was firmly established and the castle grew, it became logistically unsound - being too far away from any points of skirmish or conflict. So the room was retrofitted, transformed into a tavern.

Training dummies had been carved up and made into chairs. Archery targets became tables. Lanterns now hung from dulled spears implanted in the walls. It was a simple, smokey retreat from the rest of the overtly pristine and immaculate castle. One where the drinks flowed freely and company could be found.

However, nearly everyone else had cleared out when the high princess of Nohr came barging in, sobbing her head off and demanding a full bottle of her usual fare. It had taken a mere minute for the collection of some of the Order’s finest to scramble away. No one wanted to dare fall under her wrath.

The trio had holed up at a distant table, away from Camilla’s single-minded warpath to the bar. Their own pitcher was barely even touched, especially compared to the pile of empty bottles that now surrounded Camilla.

“So...should one of us...do something about that?” Gwendolyn asked. A thunderous sob made her flinch. Effie shook her head before pushing to her feet.

“I will go,” she declared. Gwendolyn looked at her fellow lady knight with disbelief and protest. Effie’s resolve didn’t waver as she continued, “It is my duty as a knight of Nohr.”

“H-hang on Effie! Um…”

Eirika wasn’t paying attention to anything in the bar, neither her two friends’ argument or the high princess of Nohr’s plight. Instead her fingers traced the handle of her mug, her eyes locked into the bubbling brew. The sight of the froth caused her mind to drift back to their penultimate failed romp...

Eirika threw her head back with a moan, relishing the mix of sensations that her nubile body was enduring. Ephraim cupped her cheeks and drew her in for a deep, passionate kiss. Their hips smacked together beneath the warm water, splashing with every sensual sibling shake.

The outside bath was more of a consolation prize after four disappointing romps. The sexually frustrated twins were still clinging to this farce of a challenge, and were now more desperate than ever to indulge in each other’s company.

Their tongues danced, trading each other’s spit. Ephraim ceased his motions, giving her room to roll and grind against his dick. She felt his hands shift to the back of her head. His roaming fingers dipped down to her bare back. “Mmmm” she cooed.

Ephraim broke their kiss, diving low to attack her neck. Eirika’s fingers wrapped around his hair, squeezing his locks and pushing him down into her modest chest. Her brother latched onto her nipples and gave them a vigorous suckle. “Eeephraaaaah-”

She covered her mouth, sealing it with her own palm. Her free hand scratched against his back, creating a thin cut between Ephraim’s hip. Her cheeky twin started ramming straight into her hot, wet pussy. “Muuuuuf!” she howled through her hand.

“Just a little more…” He told her. It wasn’t a waning, or a threat. It was the sweetest, most beautiful words she’d ever heard. “Eirrrrika,” he growled.

Eeeeeerk

Ephraim went still, his hands still holding his sister’s back and tit. “Damn,” he whispered, lamenting yet another lost opportunity. His sister was far less graceful in her disapproval.

Eirika mentally screamed, evoking words that would never pass her lips. ‘I swear to the fucking gods whoever’s walking in is a dead-’

“Oh dear, I didn’t know anyone was going to be in the baths this late.”

The voice of the Nohrian high princess made Eirika’s skin freeze. Her rage was quickly replaced by sheer terror at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position. The two let out their respective cries of shock as they decoupled.

“Princess Camilla?” he called.

“P-Princess Camilla?” she whimpered.

Eirika swiftly treaded to the far end of the pool, curling up into a ball to hide her intimates. Ephraim had the foresight to reach for the nearby urn of soap and chucked it in. The water quickly became opaque as a layer of suds bubbled up, concealing his erection just in time for the buxom beauty to walk into view…

“...Eirika!”

“Oof!” Eirika winced, rubbing her now-sore arm. Gwendolyn took the opportunity to finally address her. “Geez, what took you?! I’ve been yelling your name for five minutes!” the knight insisted.

The princess of Renais growled in brief pain, still stroking her arm. “You didn’t have to hit me!” Eirika argued. Gwendolyn was ready to retort, but their comrade chimed in instead.

“I pushed you,” Effie admitted. Eirika gawked at the Nohrian’s brazen confession, not even wincing at the blubbering sobs of Camilla nearby. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. Are we leaving?” Eirika asked. She realized how empty things had gotten. Yet before she could inquire why, Camilla let out a sloppy belch before going back to her bottle. ‘What is that about?’ Eirika wondered.

Gwendolyn shook her head, instead pointing over to Camilla and asking, “Didn’t you talk with Camilla recently?! Maybe you know why she’s so dour?”

Eirika was ready to shrug her shoulders, until she recalled the rest of that night in the hot springs. Camilla had been lamenting her nephew’s ‘plight’ and had mentioned about a Nohrian custom to prepare nobles for sudden attacks. Eirika distinctly remembered how brazenly the high princess had admitted that it involved being repeatedly ambushed by a retainer. ‘Don’t tell me she actually went through with it,’ Eirika pleaded..

The Renais’ Princess was snapped from her thoughts by a sudden clatter. Camilla had finished yet another bottle and was already downing another one. The high princess of Nohr had a certain renown for holding her drinks, but this…

“Alright, alright fine!” Eirika relented. Effie gave her a nod and a smile, Gwendolyn just gave a sigh of relief. Eirika was allowed to finish downing her mug before getting up from the table.

As she tepidly walked towards the distraught woman, Eirika weighed her options of how to handle this. She swiftly disregarded any options that would end with her writhing on the floor and tried to consider diplomacy. ‘It’s alright Eirika. This is Princess Camilla we’re talking about. It’s all going to be fine...just fine...

“I...I don’t think it’s nearly that bad, princess Camilla,” Eirika tried to explain. Her hesitance wasn’t born of trepidation, but rather from her state of current restraint.

“BUT IT IS!” the high princess bawled. Eirika squeaked as her breath was taken from her. The hysterical Nohrian was smothering the poor girl, clutching her like Eirika was her only lifeline. The fact it was only one arm was of minor relief, at least as far as Eirika’s spine would concern. ‘W-what am I, some kind of pillow?!’ she lamented.

“H-H- hiccup!- HE WON’T TALK TO ME ANY MOOOOOOORE!” Camilla wailed as she squeezed the other princess for dear life. The younger girl struggled to respond, too wrapped up in using what little breath she had to stay conscious. ‘Well when you attack him in the damn shower, is it any wonder why he doesn’t want to speak to you?!’

Eirika was grateful that her brother’s words never passed her lips. Instead she tried to remain sympathetic yet neutral to this affair, offering a few labored pats on the back. The result was Camilla squeezing Eirika even tighter. ‘Bad idea,’ Eirika lamented.

“I ju-hust wante-ed what was best for Sieg...sieb...him,” Camilla explained. She was clearly bargaining, trying to rationalize Nohr’s disciplinarian teachings. As much as Eirika was aghast at what the high princess had done, it was clear that Camilla’s heart was in the right place. ‘Shame Nohr doesn’t seem to be a kingdom that understands what that would mean’.

“I’m sure deep down he kn-knows that,” Eirika soothed her. The princess’ constant emphatic approach seemed to finally be having some form of an impact. At least that’s how she chose to interpret Camilla’s whimper before pressing on.

“He also wouldn’t want his auntie to be drowning herself in…” Eirika paused to glance at one of the half-dozen bottles that the Nohrain beauty had drank. The label made her eyes widen. “...How have you managed to down six bottles of Drake’s Venom ?!”

At her inquiry, a man peeked out from behind the counter. The bartender was a wall of a man, more beard than face and always cracking a grin. However, his jovial lines were pulled down as he warily eyed the woman that had encroached in his domain. “I cut her off after the first one. All those bottles were water,” He quickly whispered to Eirika before ducking back down.

Eirika was aghast at his craven display. Not even offering her a modicum of assistance. ‘Dastard. At least the other two should still be…’ she trailed off as she glanced back at where they were sitting. Her table was completely empty save for three used mugs and a half-downed pitcher.

“...Traitors, the lot of them,” Eirika grumbled. She no longer made any attempts to take the bottle from Camilla, not when its inert nature had been revealed. Instead she doubled her efforts to give advice. “W-why don’t we both go and try to find him?” Erika suggested.

“I caaaaan’t,” Camilla whined, sounding more like a child than a proud woman. “He’s attending that blasted accord with that Witch from Hoshido!”

“I thought you were on friendly terms with Lady Hinoka?” Eirika asked. Camilla’s already dour mood soured before she spat out.

“That was before she...she-sheeeeeee“

“Oh my.”

Eirika struggled to turn her neck, a feat made harder thanks to Camilla’s crushing grip. The person who spoke turned out to be...another Camilla. Specifically the one that was festooned in a Hoshidan kimono.

“Alright that’s enough. You’re embarrassing us,” The new Camilla sighed. With a gentle but firm pull, Eirika was wrenched free from the normal Camilla’s grasp. Eirika gasped for breath, her lungs grateful for deep gulps of smokey air. Her savior gave her an apologetic smile.

“I’m dreadfully sorry about this my dear,” Camilla said. Her attention was then turned to another newcomer - the Spring Camilla. “You were supposed to watch her until i got back,” The older Camilla chided the youngest form.

“I had a mission!” Spring Camilla insisted. “And it’s not like i’d left her alone, there was…” she started, looking around for the man who had offered to watch over their distraught counterpart. “...Where the devil is he?!”

Her oldest form wasn’t keen to deal with any of this and shut her garish counterpart down. “ Ugh nevermind, what’s done is done,” Camila insisted. The kimono-clad princess looked down at Eirika, remorse still clear in her visible eye. “I’m so sorry you got caught up in this, Eirika,”

“I..it’s alright. Really,” Eirika insisted. However, none of the Camilla’s were paying attention to her anymore. So instead the princess of Renais beat a hasty retreat.

As she left the tavern, she noticed the nearby building, the one that had been used to host the meeting that Siegbert and Ephraim were stuck at. That meant she had more time to herself...something she couldn’t stand anymore.

She knew what she wanted. And she knew what she needed.

Ephraim slammed the door of his chambers shut. “Five fucking hours to confirm what we already knew...asinine,” he growled. It didn’t help that he had his jaw dislocated trying to hold back Hector from attacking Zephiel after one too many rote speeches of misanthropy. The promise of a spar and a drink at a later date numbed the blow even before a healer saw to his injury.

He’d gone back to his office on the slim chance Eirika was still there, only to find that she’d already left. The guilt of what he’d done to her by mistake had weighed on him throughout the droll, monotone assembly. Not even the chance to speak with Lyon had raised his dour spirits, though his friend’s apology for restricting Eirika’s access was a small comfort.

“You’re late.”

Ephraim let his cape drop to the ground as he turned to face his waiting sister. His aching jaw dropped as he watched Eirika walk down from the upper landing. “How long were you planning to keep me waiting?” she asked as she stepped off the stairs.

One look at her dripping wet hair made it clear what she’d been doing. His sister found far more use out of his opulent bath then Ephraim was inclined to. Not to say he couldn’t appreciate his arrangements whenever she came around. As for her wearing his bathrobe...well he never bothered with it anyway.

An awkward silence fell on the twins. The fire roared and crackled in the hearth, followed by the light tapping of tree branches on the windows. Neither one could be distracted as the stared at each other.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Eirika finally said. Her normally brash-brother remained silent, giving his dear sister the much-needed focus that she deserved. She bit her lip before continuing, “This whole exhibitionism kick isn’t really working out for us.”

“Eirika I-”

She cut her him off with a quick peck on the lips. Before he could respond she had already pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her face morphed into an impish smirk as she reached for the ties of the robe. “So why don’t we just forgo the whole thing and go back to what we’re good at?” she suggested as his bathrobe dropped off her shoulders.

Ephraim gawked at the state his sister was in. Her glistening wet skin had already been partially covered by her red lingerie. A sheer babydoll stuck to her body, barely covering her nipples from his hungry eyes. Her matching panties were over a set of garters and stockings, slightly digging into her luscious thighs.

Her brother starred, unable to muster a word at her brazen display. The patter on the windows and the crackle of the fire filled in the silence. Eirika leaned in with a coy smirk, eager for him to respond. “Welllll?”

“...Don’t tell me that you came here wearing that ,” he finally asked. His tone wasn’t disapproving, but instead had a certain hunger to it, one that made her feel a little weak in the knees.

Eirika giggled at his inquiry. She spun around, giving him a view of her magnificent ass before she asked, “Would it displease you if I did?” if a breathy tone.

“No, but you should know better than to sneak into my quarters unannounced,” he lectured her. He was in full-blown older brother mode now, though not for a wholesome intention. “The rumors are already abound,” he reminded her.

“Let them talk,” she huffed. Ephraim didn’t respond, being too busy watching her saunter up to him. Their differences in height meant she had to turn her head up to look him in the eyes. The steel in his gaze bent under the storm of lust that dwelled in her pools. “I’m always happy to wait in your chamber, lord-brother ,” she huskily declared.

Like a switch they suddenly collided. Eirika leapt into his arms, her lips crashing into his in a deep, incestuous kiss. His hand grabbed her ass, holding her aloft as they deepened their passionate embrace. Her breasts rubbed against his chest.

“My lovely sister,” Ephraim growled, daring to break away from her thrall. She forced his attention back where it belonged, slamming him back into her greedy tongue. Her nails dug into his head and nape as she attempted to suck the breath out of his lungs. She pulled him down, letting her feet land in the plush carpet.

Her brother wasn’t going to let her take the reins so easily. With a primal roar he pushed her back, causing her back to crash into wall and briefly robbing her of breath. Eirika whimpered as he dove into her gaping mouth, easily overpowering her weary tongue. Her leg drew up his thigh, rubbing her wet skin against his trousers.

Ephraim groped her chest, giving his sister’s breasts a firm squeeze. She gasped under his assault, her loins dripping with every rough act. To have her brother treat her with the same roughness that he brought to battle...few things could bring her more joy.

He pulled away, leaving her wanting tongue to circle her lips in an attempt to find more of his taste. They were both breathing heavily now, still pressed closer than any sibling should be. “D-Dear brother,” she finally panted, her wet hair covering her lust-clouded eyes.

“Where do you want it?” he growled. Both knew that he wasn’t referring to what orifice to use, but rather what piece of furniture to defile. Eirika struggled to avoid creaming her panties there and then as she answered.

“T-to the chair. I want to finish what we started earlier,” she explained. Her intent was clear to him, and Ephraim nodded. He took her hand and lead her to thier favorite chair. The two assumed their positions - him on the cushion and her on the carpet.

Eirika’s fingers were a blur, deftly untying every knot and undoing every buckle. While Ephraim made it a point to be well- versed in the donning of his own finery, he simply couldn’t compare to the speed and grace of his sister. ‘Then again, she has gotten used to this by now,’ he mused.

She pulled him apart, tossing his armor unceremoniously behind them. He aided her by lifting his limbs or rolling his shoulders. In mere moments he had been stripped down to his smallclothes, giving his lustful sister an unfettered view of her lord’s impressive physique.

“Nibelung be praised,” she cooed, evoking her kingdom’s patron founder in vain. She relished the sight of Ephraim’s chiseled form, a body that could make statues look pathetic. Her hands traced his stomach, running her nails along the hard edges of his abs.

But her prize was still beyond her, at least for now.

Ephraim watched his sister with keen interest. Gone were the days where he had to direct her anywhere or even suggest what parts she should fixate on. His lover had long since memorized even the most minute of places that would stir her brother to action. Gods, she even remembered the knees!’ he awed as her fingers tweaked the inner parts of his legs.

Her teeth latched onto the band of his underwear and pulled down. She felt his girth land of her forehead. Her breathing grew short as she spat out the useless smallclothes and let gravity take its course. Her attention turned up to her brother’s dick.

No matter how many times she saw it or fucked it, Eirika would never tire of Ephraim’s cock. Her hands gently grazed the virile spear, her nails tracing the veins and marveling at how it throbbed within her grasp. “Gods…” she breathed.

Her brother said nothing, did nothing. Instead he awaited her next move, content in the knowledge that she wouldn’t back down. ‘If anything, I’d have to pull her away’ he chuckled at the thought.

Eirika breathed in the musky air, basking it all in. If the mere sight of her lord-brother’s cock would take her breath away, the smell could suffocate her. It was as if the amorous odor was choking her as she was grappling his girth. It overpowered her...and she welcomed it gladly.

Her cheek rubbed against his girth, letting her take more of his musk. Ephraim watched as she closed her eyes, giving a delighted purr that almost made him chuckle. “Dear sister, do you intend to keep acting like a cat?” he mused.

“Oh hush,” Eirika dreamily sighed as she kept nuzzling his dick. Still, the blossoming on her cheeks showed that his quip had affected her. She left a quick peck on his crown, savoring the taste of his masculine pride before she pulled away.

“Now how should I start?” she cooed. Her hands kept tugging on his shaft as she eyed him from his slit all the way down to his sacred stones. She intended to lavish each and every inch with her loving mouth before the thought of penetration even struck her mind. Her legs squirmed at the delightful thought.

Ultimately she began her assault with another flurry of kisses, this time directed at his balls. Her hands reared up to polish his knob and leave her with unmolested access to his scrotum. Her lips loudly smacked with every smooch. Her tongue fluttered the smooth skin, but never passed the confines of her lips. Not yet.

Eirika intended to enjoy herself for as long as possible tonight.

Ephraim groaned under her ministrations. The sensation of her slick tongue lathering his stones was one that he’d longed for ever since they started this disastrous attempt at exhibitionism. He raised his hand and gently placed it on his sister’s head, lazily stroking her as she worked.

The caress of her lord-brother made the princess coo in pleasure. Feeling his powerful digits massage her scalp was a private delight, and a fitting reward for her continued efforts. She resisted the urge to spring up and take his lips, knowing that she still had much to do.

Eirika reared up, running her tongue against his shaft. The salty taste of his cock sent tantalizing jolts down to her core. His grip on her head tightened, giving her a subtle yet firm resistance to overcome in her quest up his masculine monolith. A direct assault was no longer possible...so she brought in her next wave of attack.

The hand on his knob squeezed, constricting his glans between in her palm. Her other hand reached down and cupped his balls, juggling the two stones between her dainty fingers. She rolled against one and gave it a firm squeeze, causing her lord-brother to balk. “G-gods!” Ephraim hissed as his hand flew up to the armrests.

Eirika used his distraction to finish her exodus, reaching the crown of his girth. Her hand departed down to his scrotum, joining its counterpart in worshiping his sperm urns. She reared back and blew on his throbbing cock. The delightful peek of precum made her salivate. ‘Mine’ she licked her lips before slurping it up.

The salty taste made her swoon as she let her sticky treat dance on her taste buds. She massaged his balls, hoping to coax out more of her night’s snack. For good measure, she brought one of her hands up to pump his shaft. The results was more of her incestustous meal to enjoy.

Ephraim’s palms squeezed his chair. His teeth ground together under her attack. “Shit!” he groaned. His sister pulled away from his slit with a wet pop .

“Language,” she chided him with a smirk. Eirika then puckered her lips and took him back into her mouth. Hearing her brother curse made her grin even with his dick between her cheeks.

She sucked in, catching his cock in a vacuum seal. Her hands kept pumping and squeezing, intent to coax out more precum before she went any further. Once she had her fill of his seed, his sister started to suck him off.

“G-gods!” Ephraim roared. She ignored him, focused instead on bobbing her head up and down his veiny spear. His musk had long since overtaken her mind, making her a slave to her lord-brother’s cock. The salty taste, the pulsing veins, and even the lingering taste of her own lipstick made her eyes roll back in delight.

She slobbered and coughed, loudly choking herself on her favorite scepter. ‘My lord, I would gladly take my place before your throne every day,’ she silently declared, her eyes looking up at him with uncompromising love and unfettered lust. The storm that had gathered between her legs grew in ferocity at her most verboten desires.

She wanted him, wanted his cock to spear her greedy cunt. For too long their wanton lovemaking had been tempered by her fears of carrying his child. It would destroy any semblance of a happy world that they could scrounge together...but they weren't in Magvel anymore. Here she could revel and relish, knowing that things would be alright as soon as the contract ended.

‘I don’t know if we can actually get pregnant here,’ Eirika admitted as she swallowed more and more of her brother’s cock. As his crown passed into her throat, she came to a resolute conclusion ‘but I want to find out’.

Her fair skin tingled at the sinful thought.

Ephraim bucked his hips, relishing his sister’s throat trap. Countless nights or hidden hall-lays had made her incredibly skilled and attentive to his needs. He was ready to finish off and get to returning the favor when she did something that threw him from a loop. She pulled herself up from his pubes and flew off his crown with a wet pop . “E-Eirika wha-”

“I want it all, Ephraim,” she panted, her hand still jerking his throbbing dick. His sister’s eyes were glazed with a carnal cloud. Spit ran down her open mouth as she spoke more sweet sins. “Shoot them down my throat, drown me in your bastards,” she begged.

Ephraim was taken aback by her vulgar words. This was Eirika - the headstrong yet sweet sister that insisted he stroke her face as a child. The one that accepted his lust for war, with only the caveat that his swath was in service of their kingdom and its people. But now...it was like she was someone else entirely.

“W-what’s gotten into-?” he asked, only for her to cut him off.

“And then...then I want you to FUCK me,” she insisted, a maniacal grin now broken out on her lustful face. “Fuck me until I can’t move. Fill your sister’s naughty pussy with her nieces and nephews. Let me rear your heirs, lord-brother.”

She said no more, opting instead to suck him back down her greedy throat. She abandoned any sense of decorum or devotion. The only thing that was left in her mind was the debaucherous devouring of her sire’s dick.

She clutched his balls, squeezing and massaging them as she fucked her mouth on his cock. Eirika forsook all of her poise and restraint, content to be an unfettered bitch desperate for her meal.

One of her hands dared to break away, forsaking its rightful place at the altar of Ephraim's loins. Its pilgrimage drifted south, to her own quivering quim. Her manicured nails swifty dipped around her panties and dived deep into her dripping hot sex. Her loyal hand had to work twice as hard, a task that she performed with gusto.

Eirika had reached a state of euphoria, a plateau before the inevitable spiral that her orgasm would bring. Her very senses had been consumed by her lord-brother. She smelled only his musk, heard only his rumbling groans. She saw only his statuesque form, and she felt only his pulsing hot flesh. Even the trio of fingers pumping her pussy failed to register to her. Finally the taste… it was indescribable, with a heavy dose of salt.

Ephraim felt his balls tighten, heralding the coming flood. His attempts to warn her failed to register. If anything she doubled her pace and added the sounds of choking and coughing to her performance. “EIRIKA-AAAAAA!” he roared.

His sister buried him deep, letting her trained throat coax all his cum out. His seed shot straight down her stomach like so many other bastards before. Her fingers kept pumping in and out of her dripping sex, driving her closer and closer to the brink.

She could’ve worked herself off then and there, with Ephraim’s cock deep in her throat. But Eirika’s lustful mind had only one plan in mind. To be fucked and bred by her lord-brother. The thought of carrying his child made her enthusiastically slurp down load after load of hot, syrupy cum.

She held him in her throat long after the last dollap had dripped into her stomach. Above her, Ephraim had slumped over to one side, briefly robbed of his senses thanks to his sister’s sinfully succulent service. His eager lady waited, determined not to extract herself or even clean him off until he was lucid once more.

She watched him stir, feeling the semi-flacid dick in her mouth twitch in response. That was her cue to start cleaning him off. Eirika worked meticulously, using her tongue and lips to dislodge any sticky remnants. She felt him harden in her mouth, causing her to smirk in satisfaction. ‘Not yet Ephraim,’ she insisted.

Her dedication paid off, and as she pulled back for the last time the fruit of her labors was made clear. The prince of Renais’ cock, cleaned and polished to a shine. Her job was so through it had an unforeseen consequence. Her lips had barely cleared his dick when an unexpected rope of jism escaped and smeared his glans. His sister didn’t chastise him, on the contrary she looked at the unexpected gift with a sharp gleam and a lick of her lips.

Eirika pooled all the lingering cum from his crown in her palm, relishing the sticky sin that stained her hand. She made sure his eyes were firmly upon her as she ravished her digits with her tongue. Each finger disappeared between her swollen lips, giving a show before being pulled out with a loud, wet pop. in the end, her entire hand was totally clean of his cum.

Ephraim was still trying to process all of what had transpired. He knew his sister could be quite a mynx, especially between sheets. And while her fellatio always carried a vigor and passion that left him breathless, this time had been almost...feral, in its performance. His further musings were banished as he watched her stand up, eagerly anticipating her next move.

Eirika's fingers hooked around the thin strings of her panties. She pulled them down, letting the drenched garment clear her luscious thighs. Down her knees, past her calves, and finally she let them drop.

Her underwear stained his carpet in her quim juice, but for the life of him Ephraim couldn’t bring himself to care. His focus was on her and her arousal. Her pussy lips were dripping with desire, glistening in the hearth’s light.

He brought his gaze up, past her trimmed patch of pubic hair, her taut stomach, her heaving breasts, and finally to her pleading eyes. The look on her face was one befitting less a noble lady, and more a desperate whore. “Take me to your chambers, lord-brother,” she begged.

He honored her request.

Eirika bit down on the pillow, muffling her screams and staining the cushion with her spit. Her fists were bunched up at her sides, cushioned from her palms thanks to the comforter balled between her hands. The source of her euphoric strife was Ephraim himself. Her dear brother was nestled between her legs, lavishing her gushing honeypot with lascivious reverence.

She wasn’t the only one that had learned in their incestuous union. Ephraim made it his mission to make her feel every inch as good as she made him. While he lacked the nigh-slavish devotion that she had to his pleasure, he was no less determined to honor her body as she was him.

Eirika’s nails dug into the sheets. Her back arched off the mattress. She thrashed and whined, utterly powerless to her lord-brother’s deft tongue. The urge to grasp his head and shove him into her twat was great, but the appeal of being his plaything was even greater.

Ephriam stroked her pussy, his nails gliding against her puffy lips. He was seemingly ignorant of her strife, being too invested in fondling his sister’s loins. Her juices leaked out, prompting him to scoop her nectar up before it could stain his sheets.

He grabbed her hips and dove in, spearing her folds with his tongue. Erika’s teeth gritted, slightly tearing the pillow. He lathered her walls in his spit, savoring the taste of her sweet juices. His hands massaged her thighs, reaching up to her pelvis. It was euphoric.

She was in hell.

Eirika didn’t want to be treated to her brother’s reverent ministrations. She wanted to be ruined - ravaged and wracked by her lord-brother’s cock. Stuffed so full of his royal seed that she may as well give birth then and there. That is what she wanted, what she needed.

His sister spat out her pillow, her hoarse voice pleading, “Gods! S-Stop teasing meeeeee!”

Ephraim paused at her begging, his tongue still buried deep in her snatch. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he withdrew, though not before sliding up and flicking her clitoral hood. “As you wish,” He declared.

Eirika yelped at his final taunt, giving him the opening to raise up to meet her. His dick now poked against her pussy. Each tantalizing stroke caused more and more of her quim juice to stain his cock. Ephraim gently grabbed her hips and pushed straight in.

He thrust right past her folds, nestling his spear deep in her sheath. Eirika hissed in delight at the sensation of being so full . The princess didn’t care about the specifics of his girth. Not when it was the man attached that she craved.

Her lord-brother was slow, tender. His fingers caressed her shapely hips. His head dipped down to whisper sweet nothings in her ears. She felt her cravings be sated, if only for the briefest moments. It was wonderful.

But it was just another circle of hell.

“Does this please you, my sister?” he whispered. Her first instinct was to say ‘yes’, hoping that it would drive him to please her further. But the truth was Eirika had little patience when it came to her carnal desires. When he repeated his inquiry, she couldn’t bottle it in anymore.

“Gods Please, more!” Eirika pleaded. She was panting heavily, her body bathed in sweat. “Make me scream your name until my throat is hoarse. Drown me in your cum until I no longer want air!”

Her words mad Ephraim pause, shocked at the perverse, coarse words pasing his dear sister’s lips. Her hips kept slamming into his cock. She was too far gone to even notice that he’d stop and kept rambling. “Treat me like the vile, filthy whore I am! I beg you, lord-brother!”

“You are no man’s whore...least of all mine,” he explained. His tone was calm, tempered. He reached up to her forehead and brushed the errant lock away, exposing her widened eyes. “You’re so much more than a strumpet on a corner, Eirika. You’re my sister, my confidant, my friend…”

He paused, leaning down to leave a kiss on her forehead. She tried to speak, only for him to peck her lips before drawing back. “...and my queen.” he finished.

Eirika’s breathing had calmed, her sex-soaked fervor was quelled. She was Lost in his words, captivated by Ephraim’s love for her.

“Ever since we were born... No, even before... We two have always been together,” he explained. His fingers reached up for hers, squeezing their palms together. “And together... we will always stay, “ Ephraim declared

His sister’s eyes were watery now, her vision blurred as tears started to fall. A wide smile was affixed to her lips. She was happy, far happier than her earlier fixations could’ve made her.

Ephraim smiled back. “I won’t tarnish you, sully your good name or have you debase yourself for my pleasure,” he lectured her. His tone was still warm, even as he drew away from her. His fingers escaped her grasp and came to rest against her calves.

Suddenly he pulled her legs straight up, causing her to yelp. He stretched her calves up until they were touching her ears. She whimpered under the strain, her pussy churning in excitement. She strained to look him in the eyes, seeing that same fierce glint that made her weak in the knees. “...But I will honor your requests as my lady and my queen.”

Eirika whimpered.

He started fast, more than double the pace of his earlier tender loving. His grip on her legs pushed her down into the sheets. Her breasts bounced with every violent thrust. Her garter straps dug into the back of her thighs. Her toes curled above her head.

She loved it.

Ephraim’s hands roamed her legs, relishing the feelings of her stockings. He listened to her dulcet moans, loving the sounds of his sister’s private performance. He took in her disheveled state- her frayed hair, her sweat-coated skin, the heavy sounds of her labored breath.

A musky stench settled upon them. The sounds of wet slapping skin dominated the chamber. The twins were open in their praises, joined together in an incestuous duet. The world outside his apartments was of no concern, not to them.

Ephraim’s cock slammed into her tight walls, giving the long neglected barriers the assault she’d missed. One carless brush shot her straight over the edge. “EPHRAAAAAAA!”

Her brother winced at her shrill tone. He wasn’t too concerned about anyone overhearing them. His issue was with her pussy’s vice grip on his cock and the electrifying jolts it as sending through his dick. He struggled to avoid cumming then and there, a feat that required all his concentration.

Eirika was beyond such a petty matter. Her body had been consumed in orgasmic fire, the kind that left her addled of speech and thought. She didn’t even notice her dear brother slow to a crawl, being too enraptured in her sexual apotheosis.

Ephraim sighed in relief as she eventually let him go. He looked down at his sister, assessing her state. She had crashed into the sheets, her head tilted to one side. Heavy gasps escaped her lips. Her eyes were still sealed shut.

He resumed, slower this time. Her drenched loins stained his pelvis, releasing more and more of her juices with every union of their hips. His cock protested its lack of release, riling him to pick up his pace.

Snap!

The straps of her garter belt came apart under his onslaught. Her thighs felt a momentary relief as the skin indents slowly filled back in. the rest of her body felt no such respite, nor did she want it to.

Eirika shrieked in delight, her body still wracked with miniature orgasms. Her garter straps flailed about, just as much at her brother’s mercy as she herself was. Her ass bounced against his balls, jiggling above the sheets.

Ephraim rolled his sister over, placing her flat on her stomach. Eirika squeaked in surprise, a part of her already knowing what was about to transpire. She stiffened as she felt his weight laid upon her. Something hard sandwiched between her perky ass. “Who said we’re stopping?” he whispered in her ears...

The moon set behind the horizon. The skies were starting to lighten, discarding the tapestry of stars for the soft glow of dawn. Neither one of the twins cared as they kept rutting. Nor did they notice the shadow that was outside their window, rustling its wings as it watched on...


Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


“...I don’t buy it,” Gray declared. The dark-skinned mercenary’s hands were firmly on his hips, his head cocked to the side. The frown on his face was clear as day.

“I kind of do,” Tobin admitted. His fairer-toned hand was cocked up, holding not but air. His other hand was affixed to his bicep as he shrugged. Gray turned to his old friend in disbelief.

“Really Tobin?” he asked. “Doesn’t this seem just a bit too outlandish and good to be true?”

Tobin wouldn’t back down and stressed his view. “Ignoring the ‘good’ part, what reason would Morgan have to lie to us? He’s not exactly a braggart,” he inisited.

Gray wasn’t convinced. “But Tharja? The one that’s wearing a wedding dress?” Gray asked. His scrutiny wasn't born from skepticism as much as denial and perhaps even jealousy.

“Gray, she’s already nuts for Robin...like, all of them,” Tobin responded.

“You know you guys aren’t really helping me deal with this, right?” Morgan flatley asked. The usually cheerful amnesiac looked rather morose and dour. His eyes were ringed with black circles, a testament to his lack of sleep brought on by his plight. The other two boys had the decency to look ashamed, even if Gray had mixed indignation into his expression.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect you’re funk to be because you got laid, Morgan,” Gray explained. Tobin nodded behind him, less so out of jealousy than solidarity.

Morgan glowered at his friends before asking, “I mean, haven’t you guys?”

“…”

“...”

“Morgan! Hey, Hey Morgan!” a cheerful voice called out. The trio snapped out of their stalemate and turned around to address the newcomer.

It was Kana - the daughter of prince Corrin. The young dragon princess sprinted through the sand, not caring as the hot sand pooled between her toes. Her shining silver eyes were beaming in the sunlight.

The trio of young men smiled back, only one of them having to force the act the slightest bit. “Clean acts, everyone,” Gray warned. He wasn’t keen to expose Corrin’s precocious daughter to such adult topics.

“Speak for yourself, Gray,” Tobin scoffed. Morgan nodded in agreement as Kana came to a halt right before them.

“Hey Morgan! I finished that book you gave me!” Kana declared. She bounced on her feet, causing the brilliant white sand to shift.

“That’s great Kana! When did you finish it?” Morgan asked, relieved for a new topic to discuss. Gray and Tobin stayed silent in the background, letting the two progeny of great Heroes to chitter to their heart’s content.

“Just now! I had Papa help me with the last chapter,” she explained.

“You brought The Tree and the Ingle to the beach?” Morgan asked. He sounded shocked and a little dismayed, something that made the little princess immediately frown.

“Was that bad?” She weakly asked. Tobin and Gray winced at her tone, ready to bolt if need be. ‘’Causing Kana to cry would be the worst mistake any of us could make,’ Tobin grimly mused. Luckily for them, Morgan was far more tactful and resourceful.

“No, I trust you took very good care of it,” Morgan comforted her. For good measure he kneeled down and gently grasped her shoulders, looking her right in the eye with a warm smile. Seeing her return it was a good sign. ‘Especially since it’s not my copy, and the last thing I need is mother getting on my case for damaging the Archives’ property.’ “Anyway, where is it now?” he asked.

“Oh I uh...left it with Papa,” Kana explained. She looked at the boy’s eyes twitch before quickly adding, “But we can go and get it now! That is if you’re not busy…” she trailed off.

Morgan’s smile shrunk a little as he glanced at his two comrades. “Eh, heh heh. Well you see, I-” he started.

“No worries Morgan, we’ll talk more later, alright?” Tobin insisted. Gray stayed quiet, letting things go by. Morgan got the hint and offered a grateful smile.

“Okay, thanks guys. Let’s go Kana!” he prompted her. The cheerful little manakete scrambled behind him, eager to regail the young tactician with a typhoon of questions about the book she’d just read.

“...You really think he banged Tharja?” Gray finally asked. Tobin sighed in irritation at his best friend’s single-mindedness. ‘Was it really too much to ask for him to let it drop?’ the brunette bumpkin lamented.

“I think she took advantage of him like he said,” Tobin explained. Unlike Gray, Tobin had had the unique...pleasure, of fighting alongside a form of Robin and the ‘normal’ Tharja. The things he’d seen had made him quite thankful that Mada the Barman wasn’t a stickler for rules...

“When you put it like that...doesn’t sound quite as hot,” Gray mumbled. It seemed like Morgan’s plight had finally broken through his fantasy-clouded mind.

“Yeah…” Tobin agreed, taking no joy or pride in his victory. Silence passed between the two for what must’ve been a good few minutes. The sun leered down overhead, leaving the duo to its mercy.

“Hey boys,” another voice called. Still feminine, but distinctly older. Gray and Tobin turned to address their newest guest. Only to find there were two of them walking up.

Just their luck, one of them was Morgan’s mother - the tactician Robin. Specifically it was her form from an unrelated sabbatical to the beach. Alongside her was her friend Cordelia, mutually festooned in summer swimwear. The duo turned heads as always, even with their massive polearms and the unfortunate fish impaled upon them.

“Gray and Tobin, right?” Robin asked, planting her trident in the ground. The two swiftly nodded, their eyes locked on the wriggling fish. “Wasn’t Morgan with you two? Where’d he go?” she asked. Her tone was casual, yet Gray swore he heard something...else, buried in her words.

“Kana took Morgan to give him back his book,” Tobin explained. He wasn’t quite as fazed by Robin’s acts. Nor was he entranced by the pair of nubile Shepherd beauties like his best friend was.

Robin mulled the boy’s words, as if trying to find some kind of fault or flaw. She ultimately settled on an oft-uttered issue that came up in the Order, especially for her. “...the male one?”

“No, Kay-na. Corrin’s daughter,” Gray emphasized. That satisfied Robin’s inquiry and she stepped back. Cordelia took the chance to finally chime in.

“Aren’t you both hot in all that?” she asked. Her fingers tucked back a lock of her luscious red hair behind her ear. That simple, innocuous act had quite an impact on the more active of the two young men.

“N-Not at all! It feels great on my biceps, see?” Gray insisted. For good measure he held up his arm and flexed, showing his dark, toned muscle. Robin barely hid her smirk, while Cordelia just politely smiled and turned to Tobin.

“...my stuff’s all lighter weight anyway,” he admitted. “What about your coat Robin? You must be baking in that coat,” the brunette mused. Attention was pushed back to the tactician and her shoulder-secured garb.

“Eh. Details, details,” she shrugged. Her free hand smacked down a roaming tentacle from her octopus, who was getting a little too close to the strap of her bikini top. “Anyway, Cordy and I were gonna take on the last few stretches of the caverns. There’s a nice little treasure down there that’s just ripe for the taking,” Robin explained.

Robin threw her arms up and pulled, leaning back to stretch her arms and back. The added bonus of shoving out her modest breasts were caught by both men’s eyes. Though only Gray was really keen to appreciate it.

“What do you mean by treasure?” Tobin asked. He’d be more than eager to get a few extra gold, even if it was of little use here in Askr. ‘Can’t hurt to try - don’t think Anna mentioned anything about us not being able to take things back,’ he mused.

“Lets just say it makes the trip worthwhile,” Robin cryptically answered. She finished her stretches and let her arms drop back down. “Think it over - we’re going to cool off at the bar for a bit. Meet us at the entrance to the caverns if you’re interested, alright?” she asked.

Gray and Tobin nodded, the former with far more enthusiasm. “Great! See you both later,” Robin walked past them, Cordelia following her in short order. The two young men watched the Shepherd mothers until they’d been lost in the fields of umbrellas and heroes.

“So what do you think?” Tobin asked. His best friend turned to him with shock clear on his face.

“What do you mean, what do I think?” Gray scoffed. “We’re absolutely going! Just think about it - two attractive women in a dark cave. Do the math my friend.”

Tobin was silent, as if seriously mulling on the merits of Gray’s horndog fantasies. “...You do know that’s Morgan’s mother, right??” he finally asked.

“Eh. Details,” Gray shrugged, mirroring the tactician's earlier actions with far too uncanny ease. Toibin watched with veiled amusement as his friend’s prattle endured. “I know what I saw my man, and trust me -You don’t hold a stretch like that for that long unless you want attention,” he insisted.

“I suppose you’d know about that?” Tobin smirked. His best friend was taken aback by the well-timed strike, but pressed on regardless.

“Look are you coming or not?” Gray asked.

For a moment, the villager was seriously considering saying ‘no’. He had few doubts that his friend would be going regardless, hanging on the prayer that they found a fourth member to allow them access into the caverns.

...Then again, the prospect of a treasure was quite tempting. ‘Not like I have anything better to do anyway.’

“...Well someone needs to save you from your own poor judgement,” Tobin shrugged with a smile.

The caverns were just another of the wonders that popped up in Askr from time to time. Few Heroes were able to delve into them, but those that did would come out with a new appreciation for the field of battle. For a while now Tobin had mulled on what such a notion entailed - what could make paragons and champions of war see such a change.

Well now Tobin knew. And his arms were tired as a result.

“Move your hips more! Haven’t you ever gone dancing?” Cordelia asked. She demonstrated with a jab from her spear into the looming swordsman. The way her lithe, bikini-clad body weaved with every attack would’ve surely caught even the clueless one’s eye...if he wasn’t so busy trying to cope with the absurdity of the situation.

‘Dancing...soldiers...What the hell have I gotten myself into?’ Tobin lamented. “Not of my own Choice!” he yelled back. His blade swung down on the looming spear knight. While his blade barely graced it, the imposing armored spectre still flew away.

Cordelia timed her hips and took down the back-to-back swordsman. Unlike Tobin’ her strikes left a deep, rich tone that reverberated through the cave. She turned back to look at Tobin and lectured, “You have to follow my rhythm alright? And what did you mean by ‘choice’?

“My-Eeya!-my little sister,” he explained.

“Just dance -hyaa!- like I’m your sister then,” Cordelia suggested. The tone in her voice was still firm and focused, but there was a slight air of playfulness. One that even Tobin was able to pick up on and return in kind.

“You’re a little too tall for that,” he quipped. Cordelia couldn’t help but let a smile and a giggle escape her lips, even as she repelled a trio of swift cavaliers.

“Hey you two! Stop flirting -Hya! Hun! Hya! - and start fighting!” Robin yelled. Next to her, Gray was too focused on repelling attacks to chime in.

Cordelia ignored her friend’s jab, though that didn’t stop the pink on her cheeks. “A-Alright, follow my lead,” she started, before adding, “And stay close.”

Tobin obeyed her order, closing the gap between them until he could practically see the sweat on her body. “Just relax, Tobin,” she reminded him.

He resumed, taking her advice at every step. Gradually, he found himself getting closer and closer to the rhythm that Cordelia and Robin were already at. He even heard the tell tale sound of a perfect strike, by his own hand no less!

The knight-commander’s critiques dwindled away as she watched his progress. ‘He’s a fast learner! Reminds me of Donnel,’ Cordelia thought. Her brief distraction wound up costing her as a swift cavalryman ran her through. The spectral soldier didn’t leave a mark, but it did send her reeling back. “Ugh, damnit!”

Tobin leapt forward, grabbing the knight’s outstretched hand. Using her momentum, he spun them around, winding up on the opposite side of her to retaliate against her next would-be attacker. His pivot came just in time, and gave Cordelia a much-needed respite before she renewed her assault.

After what must’ve been hours, the caves grew silent. Somehow the group managed to overcome the onslaught and earn some needed peace. Gray, Tobin, and Robin were panting, not wholly used to such strenuous activity. Cordelia was still fine, and seemed almost eager to press on. Alright, final wave coming up! You ready?”

Robin said nothing, too preoccupied with slapping down her wandering octopus. She did offer a blind thumbs up, even as she was collecting herself. Tobin nodded in affirmation, whilst Gray’s was a little more absent minded.

“Alright, here we go!

“This is…” Cordelia started.

“Gorgeous!” Gray shouted.

“It is pretty nice,” Tobin admitted.

“Yeah yeah. Move aside - I’ve got octo gunk to clean off,” Robin insisted. She threw away her bag, weapon, and cloak before leaping into the pristine grotto. A second splash heralded the dive of her octopus as it joined its ‘captor’.

Gray didn’t wait too long, and had already stripped out down to his smallclothes to join her. Cordelia and Tobin watched in amusement at the more energetic duo, especially when Robin literally slapped away her octopus’ wriggling tentacle that was a little too close to the tactician’s assets.

“Hey...so thanks for bailing me out back there,” Tobin said. Cordelia turned to him and smiled.

“Think nothing of it. I’m sure you’d have done the same,” she insisted. The two fell silent, content to watch their comrades frolicking in the water.

“Heh, reminds me of that time at the lake…” Tobin admitted. As if sensing the knight’s curiosity, he continued. “Long story. Basically when we were kids me, Gray, Alm, Faye, and Celica went swimming at the lake. Some things happened, and Gray ended up dunking my head into the mud.”

The cavalier way he regaled his humiliation simply made her laugh. “Oh my!” seeing the beautiful knight wallow in his past misery elicited Tobin’s own mirth. The two shared their mutual glee at such a curt yet relatable moment, but eventually the laughter died down.

“I mean, I don’t really knock him for that. He’s still my best friend after all,” Tobin admitted. He left the fact that he probably deserved it out of the equation. Still, his admission made the Ylissean woman wistful.

“Right...best friend,” Cordelia repeated. Her eyes traced out of the grotto, to the clear blue skies that were slowly deepening into night.

Tobin was confused. “Wait, isn’t Robin your friend?” he asked. The knight blinked at the misconception before struggling to clarify.

“W-well, yes. I like Robin well enough, but she’s not who I’d call my best friend,” Cordelia admitted.

“Who’s that then?” Tobin inquired.

“Sumia. She’s a kindhearted girl that tries her hardest. She makes mistakes...a lot of them, but she always gets back up and gives her damndest,” Cordelia explained. She smiled as she told of the clumsy flower knight, feeling warmth and pride as she regaled of her comrade’s beautiful soul. “I can see why he’d choose her.”

The knight instantly regretted her last words. ‘Damn - did that really slip out?!’ she internally screamed. Still, what was done was done, and if the inquisitive look on her companion’s face was any indicator, it was better to finish her mortifying confession.

 

“Robin...not her, another one...he kind of let it slip and I got desperate to find out,” Cordelia admitted. “I was going to be going there anyway, see if I could find some tactics from other world’s pegasus riders. But finding out that those archives could show you a possible future...well how could I resist?”

Tobin nodded, well aware of the desperation to know the truth. The World Archives were by far the greatest temptation in all of Askr. To know what happens in your world - your potential fate, your lover, the rise or fall of your dreams - all that and more awaited in the numerous tomes of that great branch of Folkhalla. He quietly implored her, “And?”

“I never have a chance, not one. He’ll always pick someone else before we can even try,” she sighed. The pegasus knight looked out into the horizon, a forlorn expression affixed to her face. Tobin didn’t know what exactly she was thinking, but he could make an educated guess at least.

The two were silent, letting the splashes of their comrades fill in where words were absent. Time passed, slowly drawing out shadows as the sun grew closer and closer to the horizon. Many a times Cordelia had ridden towards that tantalizing sight, astride a majestic beast. But here on the surface, within the cliff of a world not her own, she was just as grounded as the humble villager. It was when Robin was dunking Gray’s head in the water that someone spoke. “...I’ve been to the archives to see if she chose me,” Tobin finally admitted.

Cordelia turned to him, seeing the wistful look on the villager’s face. She had a few questions, chief of all was who ‘she’ was. Ultimately she settled on merely asking him to continue. “..and?”

“She doesn’t, ever. Not even if my best friend dies. We cope together, but never make anything of it. But maybe that’s for the best,” Tobin wistfully mused. Cordelia nodded.

“I at least have his faith and trust in my abilities...that can be enough,” she declared. She raise her hand, eying the indent on her finger. A warm smile crossed her visage. ‘It looks so nice on her face,’ Tobin silently admitted. “I don’t know who took my heart from Chrom, but somehow I know that he did so in such a perfect way that I don’t need him anymore.”

“To be honest...he sounds like an idiot,” Tobin admitted.

Cordelia was taken aback by the villager’s sudden bite. “W-What?!”

“I mean it just doesn’t make sense to me! Someone like you that can pretty much carry an army, and he doesn’t even catch your eye?”

“I mean, that’s not-um that’s”

“And that’s not even getting into your appearance! You’re gorgeous, Cordelia - practically every guy we passed was turning their heads to you you. And Chrom doesn’t even give you a glance?!”

She stayed silent, too stunned to react to anything he’d just said. Without her following up, Tobin quickly realized he’d overstepped his boundaries. ‘Shit, that was too far,’ he flinched. He wanted nothing more than to dunk his head in the grotto until the bubbles stopped, but his body wouldn’t listen.

Tobin heard a splash, but couldn’t pull his eyes away from her. The way she bore into his own pools above blazing cheeks was utterly captivating. He waited on her response, his breath being held in his throat. She audibly swallowed before she spoke.

“You’re just saying that…” Cordelia stated. The dejected man turned away, intent to respect her wishes. He didn’t expect the statuesque spearwoman to grab his vest and slam her lips down on his. His eyes widened in shock at her attack, even after she pulled back to whisper,“...but I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Before Tobin could even react, she was already pulling him down. A loud splash rang out through the grotto as the two landed in the thigh-deep water. Cordelia was back on her assault, gently nibbling his bottom lip. Her hands roamed his lithe body, finding purchase in whatever strap or sleeve she could reach.

The mercenary reached past her, grabbing the sandy bottom of the pool. His bare fingers scraped against some stones, but he was too distracted feel any sense of pain. He couldn’t even smell the salty water that nurtured them, only her succulent perfume registered.

Cordelia prodded him into joining her oral joust. He complied, bringing his virgin tounge out to bear. The older woman was his obvious superior and quickly overtook him. “Mmmph,” she maoned into his mouth.

Tobin lowered himself further down, letting his calves reach the bottom. Cordelia’s knee bumped against his soaked gron, sending delightful jolts along the villagers’ girth. “Damn, that feels so good,’ he growled. The knight smirked at his guttural tones. ‘Oh, so that’s how you want to play?’ he silently challenged her.

His hands cupped her covered sex, eliciting a sharp gasp from his older partner. Tobin pressed further, rubbing against the outline of her pussy lips. Her hips bucked up, desperate for more of his touch. She rapped her knuckles against his toned abs, trapping her hand between his wet vest and sweat-slicked skin.

‘What are you doing!’

Cordelia did her best to banish the nagging voice in her head. She knew damn well what she was doing - following Robin’s advice. ‘I love him, but he’s not here with me,’ she lamented. Whatever infernal magic ha robbed her of the identity of her husband hadn’t dont the kindness to erase her libido. So she was doing what she needed, plain and simple.

His inexperienced fingers brushed against her, drawing more and more sweet pants and mewls from the knight-commander. She dropped one hand down into the water, scraping her nails against gravel and stone. Their fingers briefly touched, only to be drawn away by their respective ministrations.

Tobin pushed her bikini bottom into her folds, further drenching the strip of fabric in her juices. The offset of cold sea water attempting to enter her channel made her arch her back and shriek. “Gods, mooooooreeeee!”

He obeyed her request, doubling his efforts. In his haste, his finger brushed against the hood of her clit. The results were readily apparent as the frustrated wife howled in climax.

Cordelia drowned in the white-hot waves of orgasmic bliss. Her screams echoed throughout the cave, reverberating with the natural acoustics of their lustful domain. Tobin winced at the high tones she hit, but didn’t dare to back away from her.

Sploosh!

Her screams abruptly cut off as her head sank beneath the surface. The villager blinked, trying to collect himself. He realized that she was now submerged...whilst writhing and sucking in water. “Shit, Cordelia!”

Tobin reached in and pulled her up, bringing her back above the water. She hacked out water, sucking in gulps of air. Her eyes tepidly opened, exposing her tired red pools. “Gods...that..that was-”

“Are you alright?!” he snapped.

She flinched at his sudden tone, hearing it a little muffled thanks to the water pooling in her ears. She swiftly shook her head, sending sea water all around before responding, “I-I’m alright. That was just...gods, that was amazing,” she admitted.

The villager looked away, stammering a lipid response. Cordelia weakly chuckled, still trying to regain her faculties from her earth-shattering orgasm. “I-I think I can sit up,” she said.

Tobin reluctantly let her go, watching her wobble but managed to stay above the water. His eyes glanced down and beheld a particular sight. Her earlier thrashing had undone the clasps of her bikini top, leaving it dangling around her neck. Every now and again, he could see a glimpse of her petite breasts and puffy nipples. ‘Earth-mother protect me,’ he silently prayed.

The knight picked up on her younger partners sight and gazed down. She was briefly mortified at her reveal, but the lingering temptations of her earlier passion quelled such emberssments. Instead she gave him a sultry smile and shook herself, sending the garment aside.

Cordelia was far from done. With a devious wink, her deft hands reached back underwater. Tobin couldn’t really see what was happening, but from the way she was wiggling her hips made it clear it had something to do with her lower body. His answer came when she kicked her legs in the air, splashing salt water on the dazed young man. He barely even had time to notice the red bikini bottoms dangling around her ankle when she suddenly shirked and leapt up.

Are you fucking-?!” she snapped. Tobin was confused until she reached into the water and pulled out an unwelcome sight - Robin’s octopus. With seven of its limbs in her firm grasp, Its remaining tentacle was retracting from her thigh and wriggling around. The knight snarled and shook the cephalopod before delivering her ultimatum.

“Listen you little nuisance - Robin is far, far more lenient on you than I will be. So I’m going to tell you once. The only way you’re getting out of here with all eight of your tentacles still intact is if you leave. Now,” she insisted.

The now terrified octopus blubbered and wriggled in her grasp, clearly getting the message. Cordelia nodded in approval before turning and chucking the cephalopod clear out of the grotto into the open sea.

“Now then,” she looked back at Tobin, her eyes lidded. “Why are you still dressed?” she cooed, the honey back in her words. Her young squeeze took the obvious hint and quickly stripped himself. The pegasus knight stood back, amused as he hopped around trying to pull off his boot.

Sploosh

The rustic swordsman was preparing to drop his smallclothes when her hand quickly caught his. “Allow me,” she insisted. Tobin’s hands froze mid-motion, ready to be brushed away by her smooth yet toned palms. Cordelia untied the knot holding his underwear up and let the now-loose article fall into the water. What she saw made her blink in shock.

“I didn’t expect it to be quite so...long,” she declared. Her lips subconsciously smacked together as she appraised the bumpkin’s girth. It wasn’t particularly wide, but it was indeed long. “I think I know where to put this,” she glanced at him with an impish smirk. Seeing his dick throb at her words made it clear that he understood what she meant.

Cordelia flicked his cock before moving over to the nearby rock. She gave the younger man the delight of seeing her heart-shaped ass wiggle and bounce with every long stride. He was so entranced that he nearly missed her ‘subtle’ invitation once she’d reached forward and planted her palms against the stone support.

The knight shuddered under his stare, igniting tinges that her toned body had become accustomed to. Feeling the younger man’s warmth against her and his cock between her rump made her feel more vulnerable than anything else had so far. “T-Take it slow for now, please?” she begged.

Tobin swallowed, not trusting his voice to answer. Instead he let his actions speak for themselves. His hands blindly reached around and encircled her taut abs. ‘Gods, she’s so...firm,’ he breathed in awe.

Cordelia winced at his touch, but quickly found herself melting into the villager’s coarse pads. She didn’t expect him to ignore her breasts and go for her stomach. ‘Not like there’s anything to admire there,’ she mused with a wry chuckle. His reverent ministrations banished her self-loathing as contented purrs escaped her lips.

The villager used her coos and mewls to guide his hands. He quickly settled in a groove of gently rolling and tweaking the firm ridges of her shapely abs. His nose was engulfed in the long tapestry of crimson locks, giving him an unfettered access to the ocean breeze scent within her hair.

The knight grinded against his dick, giving a little attention to Tobin in return for the worship he was offering her. The villager groaned in response before he gave a few little thrusts against her full ass. His hands drifted up, caressing her sides before he reached his destination - her shoulders.

“Mmm...you’ve got quite the touch, Tobin,” Cordelia cooed. Her sultry praise caused his already-firm desire to throb and writhe between her cheeks. She pressed herself back into his chest, giving him more room to massage her shoulders. “Oooooh,” she whined, her eyes rolling back into her head

Tobin pressed on, gliding down to her biceps. His grip widened to accommodate her wide yet shapely arms, admiring and appraising how it flexed in his hands. ‘Oooh Naga, this feels so wonderful,’ she bit back her cry. His touch had left rivers of fire across her body, all tracing down to the inferno in her core.

“I-I can’t take it anymore!” she gasped. Her lover stopped, confused at her outburst. “I n-need you in me, Tobin. Now!” she begged. Her pussy was dripping all over his dick, reinforcing the need and desire that was seeped in every labored breath.

Tobin didn’t have the means or knowledge to take advantage of her desperation, not in a way that either would come to regret. Instead he obeyed her wishes, as a soldier would their superior. So in a cavernous grotto with the sunset at his back, the Zofian engaged in the Earth Mother’s teachings.

Cordelia’s walls were pushed aside, causing her to scrape her nails against her rock. While he couldn't stretch her out, he was deep inside her now. Her hips bucked out, pressing her sky rider’s ass into his pelvis. “Oh Nagaa-aah!” she yelped.

The two settled into a brisk pace, going fast enough for their slapping skin to start to pollute their carnal cave. Her toned arms kept herself up, but were slowly being worn down as time went on. Tobin’s hands were perched on her hip and shoulder, keeping her in place as he sloppily thrust into her sopping wet twat.

Tobin couldn’t begin to describe what he was feeling. ‘This is WAY better than a leather sheath!’ he mentally panted. As he felt her velvet walls squeeze and soak his dick, it was clear that such primitive methods of self-release wouldn’t sate him ever again.

Cordelia’ was in heaven - the first time she’d felt this way since arriving in Askr. Her womanly cravings were being sated, even if it was by a man who was not her husband. The way the sun had cast into the grotto covered her in shadows, hiding her marked finger from her blurred sight.

Cordelia was a sweaty, slobbering mess. Her chest pressed closer and closer against her support until her rock-hard nipples were scraping against it with every thrust.it She was standing only thanks to rigorous months of training for the Pegasus corps.

The villager brushed her hair aside, exposing her ear. His hand returned to her shoulder, keeping her in place as his hips slapped into her ass. The way her head was cocked, he could see the blissful look on her blush-covered face. Tobin took a chance and breathed into her lobe.

Cordelia shrieked at the sudden attack, compressing herself further into the rock. The menagerie of sensations.was the breaking point, sending her already-shaky foundation tumbling beneath the roaring, orgasmic waves. “Oh gods! I’m...I’m-!”

Her walls clamped down, causing his thrusts to slow to a crawl. He struggled to hold on, keep his head above the ocean that threatened to consume him. But as Cordelia drowned, she took him with her. “C-Cord-eeeee!”

His arms gave out as he collapsed against her. His dick shot rope after rope of Zofian cum into her newly vacant womb. Their climatic cries echoed throughout the cavern before thundering out of the grotto into the setting sun...

Cordelia stirred to the feeling of cold on her bare skin.

She blinked away the post-sex stupor, trying to make some sense of her surroundings. “W-wha?” she asked.

“I brought you back into the water. Figured the cold would help you shake it off,” Tobin explained. She glanced over, seeing that he was still beside her and bare. His face morphed to a sheepish grin as he continued, “In hindsight, probably shouldn’t have done that. Now the water’s kinda tainted.”

“Heh, maybe,” she chuckled. Her heart wasn’t really in the mirth of the moment, as the weight of what she’d done started to bear down on her.

Yet despite having explicitly broken the vows of her missing ring and absent love...Cordelia was too at peace to feel guilt. ‘Its like Robin and Anna said - what happens in Askr will not follow you back,’ the knight declared.

With her sin absolved, she turned back to her young lover. “Hey...want to make it a little dirtier?” she suggested with a wry smirk.

Tobin blinked, trying to process what she was saying. ‘What does she mean by ‘it’? Is she talking about...oh the water,’ he realized. “...I’m listening.”

Cordelia’s smirk widened into an impish grin. She leaned down to whisper her devious designs in his ear. Her thumb traced the back of his ear, relishing in the spasms under her ministrations and machinations.

The villager was utterly silent as she leaned back. Her words echoed in his head, slowly wrapping around his stricken mind until he was mentally encaged. “...there?” he practically whispered.

Cordelia nodded. “J-Just take it slow, please?” she asked. He vigorously nodded.

With that out of the way, the two slowly shifted into position. Cordelia shakily moved over, straddling one of Tobin’s thighs. The villager felt her hot pussy rubbing against his leg, causing his body to grow warm in response. “Ready?” she asked.

The knight reached down and cupped his cheek, engaging her young lover in a soft yet deep kiss. Her other hand wrapped around his shoulder, placing her fingers around the back of his neck.

Tobin’s hands weren’t idle either as he followed through with her request. He reached behind her, massaging her ass in the process. He felt his fingers dig into her plush rear, relishing the perfect cushion for the horse rider. “Mmm” Cordelia cooed in his mouth, drawing his tongue out to engage in a duel of spit.

The knight shimmied up, placing herself higher on his leg. Her act gave his hands room to reach their destination - her puckered asshole. ‘Here goes nothing,’ he declared before giving her ring a tap.

His older lover flinched as she felt him toy with her butthole. He tried to use her distraction to dive into her mouth, but she wouldn’t have any of it, instead she pushed down and ran her tongue against his bottom lip. He took the hint and withdrew his tongue. ‘“D-do it,” she hissed.

Tobin’s finger slid into her crack. The friction made it hard for him to wriggle his digit in her ass. He gave her a minute to adjust before he started to pump his finger in and out. His other hand pulled away from her ass in favor of holding her hip.

Cordelia’s gasps echoed through the cave. Her heavy breath was greater than any symphony that Tobin could ever claim to hear. He settled into a lull, alternating his pumps with moments where he wriggled or prodded the inside of her butt.

“E-EYAAAAAAH!”

Her sensitive body was wracked by another mind-melting orgasm. The knight’s attempts to scream were cut off as Tobin took her lips. He held her close, still fingering her puckered hole as she rode out her climax.

The villager stayed as calm as he could, managing to prolong their contact by breathing through his nose. When he felt her go limp, he pulled back and cradled her in his arm. His finger slowly pulled out before cupping her ass to hold her above the water..

Cordelia basked in the afterglow of a second earth-shattering climax. Her body felt like mush, especially thanks to the brisk grotto waters. Still, she felt herself getting hot and bothered as she bashfully revealed her final offer. “Y-you know...you’re welcome to put more than a f-finger there.”

Tobin gawked at her offer. He might be a little slower on picking up signs, but even he could tell what she was saying.

“I…” he started, only to stop and reconsider. He left her in anticipation before at last shaking his head and simply saying, “Thanks for the offer, but I’m happy where i’m at.”

“Hmm...I think I like where you are, too,” she admitted. The two admired the sunset, watching the disc sink beneath the horizon line. A part of her wanted to stay like this, yet his still-firm erection kept rubbing against her thigh. “...But looks like someone’s still eager for more.”
Her partner had the decency to blush and look away, eliciting a giggle from his older lover. “Can you still stand?” she asked.

“Maybe. Not for much longer though,” Tobin admitted. “But I think I have something we could do...if you’re interested?”

Cordelia mulled his words. ‘It’d only be fair to let him choose once, right?’ she decided before responding, “Well, What do you have in mind?”

He pulled back the hair from her ear and whispered his whim. Cordelia felt herself grow stiff at his desire. “R-really?” she gawked. “But I’m nothing spec-!”

His hand squeezing her shoulder killed her protests. One look at his reverent eyes made it clear that no amount of self-depreciation would dissuade him. “A-alright then,” she relented.

The knight shakily rose to her feet and stumbled to back to the rock. The two stayed in the grotto this time, reaching the shallow end where on their feet were submerged. Unlike last time, she turned to face him, exposing her lithe form for his viewing pleasure.

Tobin settled between her legs, lining up his dick with her eager pussy. She watched in fascination as the shaft disappeared back into her folds. Her walls were only pushed slightly aside, but he sunk so far in she swore he was just outside her already-filled womb. “G-gods!” she cried.

Her younger lover set the pace, brisk but deep. She writhed as he ran his slender blade in and out of her quim. Her hips bucked, trying to meet his loins with every thrust. Her ass slapped against the rock with every bounce.

Tobin used their height difference to attack her neck, littering the slender flesh with all manners of nicks and licks. She threw her arm around his back. Her nails dug into the flesh between his shoulders.

The sun was below the waves now, leaving the two to fuck in the dusk. Their eyes slowly adjusted, giving them the barest sights of their respective lover. The placid crashing of waves barely registered over the slaps of sweaty skin.

It wasn’t long before the two were at their final threshold. Tobin’s thrusts grew sloppier as his strength dwindled to nothing. Cordelia was in slightly better shape, and instantly started to take over as her younger lover reached his limits. “I-I’m so c-c-close!” she panted.

Tobin couldn’t respond, but he put in what little he had left to finishing her off. He blindly reached around to her ass and tried to find her puckered hole. His finger barely managed to pierce her ass, but the extra stimulation was enough. Cordelia shrieked, “TOBINNNNNNN!”
His ears hurt from her shriek, but Tobin tried to ignore it. He instead focused on giving her a few long, deep pumps as her pussy walls clamped down on his dick. He only made it halfway in before his final load exploded in her “Cor-DEEEE!”

Cordelia melted against the rock, babbling incoherent tongues as her brain shut down from the most vigorous climax yet. Her already-full womb was blasted with more and more of the villager’s seed. She went limp, barely held between the rock and Tobin’s body.

His body threatened to give out, taking the both of them back into the dangerously shallow grotto. Somehow he managed to stay upright, keeping Cordelia in place. His limp dick dropped out of her stuffed pussy, sending a few spurts of cum and quim dripping between their legs.

“Gods, that was...that was,” Tobin struggled to speak. Cordelia was silent, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the growing chill of the grotto. The sounds of the ocean came back in full force, reminding him of where they were...and conjuring something that he’d long since neglected.

“Uh...did we forget about something?” he wondered aloud. Cordelia was too addled to respond, but a sudden snort made him turn in shock...to see Cordelia’s steed waiting for them. Horse and man made eye contact.

“...Hi?”

“Hwheee!”

...Were we really in there for THAT long?!” Tobin gawked. Cordelia’s horse snorted beside him in agreement. He’d expected a few things when they walked out. A moon-kissed, empty beach wasn’t really up there.

“Seems like it,” Cordelia mused. Her hand dropped away, no longer concerned about holding up her tattered bikini top. Tobin was treated to the sight of her compact chest, her nipples still hard from their earlier revelry. Her younger flame coughed into his fist, trying to hide the red on his cheeks.

The knight let go of her horse’s reins, letting the white stallion gallop away. ‘You’ve more than earned a night of free roaming, Tiamo’ she silently declared. Satisfied, the knight unceremoniously crashed into the sand. She heard Tobin follow in her stead right beside her.

The two let out respective sighs, letting the stress and pleasure of the day wash over them. The fading sounds of hooves on sand melted into the gentle crashing waves. Time was of no consequence to the duo of Heroes as they basked in the cool light of the moon and stars.

“Hey…”

Cordelia cracked open an eye and turned to Tobin. “Whatever happened to Robin and Gray?” he asked...

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


“So what then?” Cordelia asked. Her arms were pressed into the cool sand. Her body splayed out across a brilliant white towel, back exposed to the sun. Beside her, the tactician Robin finished downing her drink before continuing.

“I mean the rest was pretty simple - just some cleanup work with my spear,” the amnesiac insisted. Her back was against a rich purple towel, matching her bikini. She’d discarded her gloves and boots, but retained the belt and calf strap on her right leg. The ominous mark on her right hand was of little concern to the two summer Shepherds.

“That’s not what I mean, Robin,” Cordelia huffed. She raised her head and turned to her friend. “What did you find at the bottom of the cave?”

“Well-hey!” Robin snapped. The source of her ire was her catch, an octopus that seemed to be a little too attached to its catcher. It withdrew its tentacle from her back, shrinking back as she admonished it. “Will you stop it?!”

“Why don’t you just throw that thing back into the ocean?” Cordelia asked. She warily eyed the octopus, who had the foresight to avoid the horse riding summer knight.

“More like onto the chopping block…” Robin growled. She swiftly caught her partner in the act of trying to grope her ass and grabbed it by its eight tentacles. She raised the crafty cephalopod to her face and snarled, “You hear that you little pervert? Any more of your crap and you’re being served up with Validar!”

The sight of her flailing forked fish seemed to register with its inhuman brain. Her catch-turned-creeper slinked away, making odd blubbering noises. It crawled into her discarded basket and threw the cover down.

Cordelia watched the admittingly amusing sight before turning back to her friend. “You named the fish after your dad?”

“Yep.” Robin admitted. The reason went unsaid, but Cordelia could surmise why based on how the poor fish was squirming. “Didn’t you name yours?” the tactician asked.

Her friend blinked and attempted to eek out her answer. “Well I..um... he he ?”

“...you didn’t name it Chrom did you?”

“No!”

Robin leaned back, hiding her smirk at Cordelia’s flustered rambling. Her glee was palpable, as prominent and visible as the purple bikini she was wearing. And yet she couldn’t keep the wistful sigh from escaping her lips.

Truthfully, she’d been enjoying her new catch’s touch a little too much as of late. The seemingly mindless cephalopod’s wriggling tentacles left some delightful little sparks...followed by far less welcome streaks of brine and ink. Still, those sparks were the kind that made her miss whoever she’d shared a bed with just as much as she missed her ring.

Robin and Cordelia were more alike than just being Shepherds pulled from a beach. In truth they were taken, bound in matrimony to some lucky men and had both been blessed with children. The issue was they couldn’t recall who their husbands were before coming to Askr. The most they had were little marks on their ring fingers, just above the knuckle.

So was the source of her ire. Robin was a woman, one that had already traded vows and bore her dear Morgan. One that had been robbed of her husband’s identity, but left with a body that yearned for his touch. Or really, any touch. She’d reached her limit and had now commited to a quick little bout of infidelity, with only the promise of never remembering Askr pushing her over the edge.

Robin tilted her eyes down, glancing around the crowded beach. There was quite the offering of strapping, virile men abound. Her eyes lingered on the prince of Frelia and even the younger prince of Nohr. ‘Mmm, tempting. But perhaps too easy,’ she declared.

The Tactican had her needs, that was true. But more than that, she wanted a challenge in her prowl. It was like any other strategy she’d come up with - the more resistance she encountered, the more satisfying her superior victory would bring. ‘Hmm...that gives me an idea!’

“You know Cordy...instead of telling you, why don’t we go ourselves?” Robin turned to her flustered friend. Cordelia blinked out of her irritation and mulled on the amnesiac’s proposal.

“You need four to take the battle though, don’t you?” the knight asked. Robin nodded in confirmation before pulling herself up.

“Well let's go find two more then,” she declared.

“You did that on purpose,” Cordelia chided. The two were sitting at a nearby beachside bar, enjoying a quick pre-battle treat. The open structure was nearly empty, with most of the heroes enjoying the sun and the sand.

Robin looked up from her drink and smirked. “What can I say? It’s fun to strut a little,” she admitted. Her attention was mostly devoted to surveying the rest of the patrons for a last minute swap. “You should give it a go sometimes, Cordy,” the tactician suggested.

The summer knight squirmed in her seat, not finding a single stroke of merit in the prospect.“I...don’t think I have...well, no,” she declared.

Robin tssked, not in response to Cordelia’s doubt, but more to the sight of Saber already spoken for. “Lucky cow…” she grumbled under her breath before turning back to her friend. “Why not?”

“I don’t really have the ah, assets that you do. Besides, you’re far more of a tactically inclined type than me,” the knight lamented. Her fellow Shepherd sighed before downing the rest of her drink.

“Alright Cordelia, spill - what do I have that you don’t?” Robin stressed. The tactician was never one to mince words or deal with lingering nonsense, and this wouldn’t prove to be the exception.

“Well there’s these,” Cordelia gestured at Robin’s chest. The tactician resisted the urge to roll her eyes at such a blunt admission. ‘Wow, and here I thought this was going to be something meaningful,’ the tactician lamented.

“Oh please. I’ve got the chest, and what about the rest?” Robin asked. She pushed her stool away, giving her room to gesture down to the knight’s feet. “How many other people can wear heels in sand?”

The Tactician wasn’t done, much to Cordelia’s grief. “And these hips! Geez, who’d have guessed you’re already a mom, right? Not like me,” Robin chuckled as she looked down at her defined yet soft stomach.

“Are you quite finished?” Cordelia huffed. hearing such compliments would ordinarily be brushed off, but things had changed. She’d found someone that could lavish her in praise, and it wouldn’t make her balk or shy away. ‘And you want me to ignore that? What the hell, Robin…’ the knight silently glowered.

“Cordelia...you know what everyone’s gonna say, even if you don’t want to admit it,” Robin sighed. ‘I know how you feel Cordy - I feel the exact same way…’ the tactician silently agreed before pleading further, “All I’m saying is give it a chance. Have a little fun with the opportunity we’ve been given.”

Cordelia mulled Robin’s words, weighing a serious amount of counsel to her friend’s proposal. Her eyes traced down from the empty glass, looking at the light indent on her finger. ‘As soon as i’m done here, I’ll never take it off again, my dear…’ she vowed. Finally, her mouth opened and the words that came forth still sounded off, even in her own voice. “It’s just harmless fun, right?”

“Right” Robin affirmed. She leaned in, eagerly awaiting the knight’s final say.

“...As long as I don’t have to run,” Cordelia relented.

“That’s the spirit!” Robin bemaed. At her hip, her octopus gave a bubbly coo, as if in agreement. “it's all harmless. If either one of them ends up abit too brazen, we’ll just set things straight,” Robin insisted.

The two looked over to their respective spears and the poor wriggling fish impaled upon them. “That is...unless you want to see if you can bring Sevara to Askr?”

“Robin!”

The dancing pegasus knight was tossed aside by Robin’s spear. Her fingers gripped the weapon’s shaft, using her ring finger to tap out the rhythm of the cave. Her toe tapped in sync, giving her the beat to time her strikes with. The unwelcome intrusion of her tagalog caused her to nearly fumble. “Keep your eyes forward, buddy,” she growled. ‘I’ve got enough roaming appendages to deal with.’

It must’ve been a shared trait among Robins, but she couldn’t say she’d ever been shocked by the dancing apparitions of the caverns. Nor the fact that these wondrous caves seemed to appear and disappear without a trace, only to wind up in a wholly new place eventually. It had certainly been amusing the first time, but now she was more keen to focus on the task at hand then mull the absurdity of the situation.

“Heyah!” Gray grunted, sending the swordsman reeling away. His blade came back down to strike away the immediate follow up, and barely managed to come back around and take out the third. “Crap, this is harder than I thought,” he panted.

Robin dealt with a pegasus knight before briefly turning to face the young man. “Here, like this,” she prompted him to turn to her. “Use your fingers to follow the beat. Time your swings, and don’t put as much force into your strikes. like-THIS!”

She demonstrated by quickly striking down the cavalry that had lunged at her. Gray watched in awe as she repeated the process not once, not twice, but thrice on the immediate reinforcements. Each strike rang out, joining the tone of the singing caves. “See, easy?” she smirked.

The young man took her advice to heart. His free hand attempted to lock into the timing as he fended off more and more forces. It took him a few tries, but he eventually got close enough to start getting more well-timed strikes. “Alright! This isn’t so bad,” he smiled.

Feeling coy, Robin decided to flaunt a litte. She started to put a little flair to her attacks, knowing that her every move was still in the villager’s eyes. Her still-keen strikes were embellished with a little more oomph in her hips. Gray immediately noticed and devoted his attention back to the tactician. “Eyes on the prize, kid,” she prompted him with a knowing smirk.

Satisfied, she turned her attention to the other pair. Cordelia had taken to cave’s peculiar battles quite well, as she’d expected. Even better, it looks like her friend and Tobin had started to hit it off quite nicely. ‘She’s getting really into it...hmm…’ Robin mused before a devious idea bloomed in her head. “Hey you two! Stop flirting - Hya! Hun! Hya! - and start fighting!” she shouted.

The sight of Cordelia and Tobin flinching put a smile on her face. She took the proceeding blow with a smile, ‘ worth it.’

The shadow melted away, alongside the remaining spectral soldiers. Robin dared to lower her spear, letting a breath escape that had been held captive within her lungs.

Somehow, they’d made it to the final wave, and even survived the boss’s terrifying assault. At last, the end of the caverns was before them. As the other three followed her example, the sound of rocks grinding against rock assaulted their ears. A passage was opening before them. “That’s our exit,” Robin explained.

The tactician gave them some time to collect themselves before proceeding to the door. She was ready to move in, but a sudden stirring caused her to freeze up. “Actually, could I get a moment? I need to..ah, yeah,” she meekly explained.

Thankfully for her, Cordelia picked up on her intentions pretty quickly. “Oh! Well, alright then,” she said. Robin had already scrambled behind the rock before the knight could even explain the holdup.

Now the trio were waiting at the cave’s exit, still catching their respective breath from the vigorous battle. ‘I wonder what’s taking her so long…’ the knight mused.

‘Why did I bring this fucking thing?!’ Robin lamented. She clutched the wall tighter, scraping her nails against the rock. Her lips were pinned between her teeth, trying to keep the moans from escaping her lips. A sudden jolt from her nethers caused her to gasp. “A-ah! Will you stop tha-aaaaah,” Robin mewled.

Her assailant was none other than the multi-limbed octopus that she’d been saddled with. The damn thing took advantage of her distraction and latched onto her hip. Two of its tentacles were now stroking around the inside of her thigh, smearing her clear skin with its slime. ‘Oh gods it's so disgusting…’

‘...and feels sooo damn good!’

Her anger was abated as she let herself enjoy the sensations of her capture’s touch. The cephalopod seemed to sense her submission and grew a little bolder. It unlodged one of its limbs from a round her leg and sent it slithering up to the strap of her askew bottom...

“Robin?”

Hearing Cordelia’s voice spooked the octopus. It quickly retracted its tentacle back into the net and shuffled under the bundles of fish. The pent-up tactician barely managed to pull her cloak close by the time the knight passed around the rock. “Lousy thing…” Robin muttured.

“Everything okay?” Cordelia asked. The tactician finished tying up her cloak before turning to face her fellow Shepherd.

“Yeah yeah, i’m fine,” she insisted. Robin reached down and grab her net. She shook it a bit, letting loose some of the oil and tainted water from between the mesh. The muted blubbering within brought a brief smirk to her face before she roughly tossed the whole thing over her shoulder. “Let’s just get in there already.”

Robin broke the surface of the water, throwing her head back in the process. A deep, contented sigh passed her lips. She knew that slimy cephalopod was roaming around in the pool, but paid it little mind. ‘Little bastard’s probably as happy to be in the water as i am,’ she chuckled.

Despite her antics, the tactician was truly happy that she was back in this wonderful grotto. It was a stark contrast to the hot springs she’d also partaken in from time to time, a placid chill that caused a shiver up her spine. It was a wonderful respite to the beaming sun, peeking into the grotto through the wide opening into the sea itself.

“Whoo!”

Robin winced as a wave of water flowed over her, drenching her already-wet body. She kept her mouth close, keeping the salty taste of the sea away from her tongue. She couldn’t really blame the younger man - she’d done pretty much the same thing the first time after all.

Gray surfaced, shaking the water out of his hair. “You were right Robin, this place was worth the effort!” he praised.

“Heh, told ya kid,” she smirked. Her attention was focused on wringing out water from her hair. She was seemingly too preoccupied to see that the Zofian was brazenly checking her out.

“Sheesh, she really is a mom,” Gray mused. There was no denying that Robin had kept herself in shape, but the weight on her hips or bust made it clear that she’d temporarily taken leave of the battlefield in favor of tending to her newborn’s cradle. Her skin was a little too pale, even if it was a shade darker than the other Robins. still, she was able to fill out that tantalizing two piece well enough. “Though she is a hot one…” he admitted aloud.

He didn’t expect to feel a sudden chill down his back as Robin leered behind him. He didn’t even need to look back to see that the obvious smile on her face was more dangerous than any dragon. “What was that, you little brat?” she sweetly asked.

“N-nothing!” Gray swifty said. She took delight in seeing him squirm, especially after his off the cuff comment mere moments before. Still, she’d let the worm relax...for a moment.

I see...hey, do you smell something?” Robin suddenly asked. She backed away, giving him room to help reinforce his ill-fated sense of safety.

“N-No?” he admitted. Without having her lingering on his back, he relaxed a bit and offered an explanation. “Think its the fish?”

No, it’s definitely you,” she insisted. The older woman slowly circled him, a frown on her face. “...Know what you need, buddy?”

He swallowed, not trusting his voice for what she had in store. It didn’t help that the way she talked...no, purred, her inquiries made him thankful they were in the deeper end of the grotto. “W-wha-”

“A bath!”

Gray was already underwater before he could retort. Robin’s grip on his head kept him just beneath the surface. She looked at her free glove, examining it for any scuffs as the zofian flayed and struggled in her grip. Before things could get too dangerous, she abruptly pulled him up and held him. “All clean?”

“You’re a devious woman,” Gray panted.

“How flattering,” she smirked. Her hand let go, dropping him back into the water. His head was quickly brought above the surface, letting him cough and sputter. The tactician made her way to the edge of the pool before sitting down on the smoother rock.

‘Got to be honest...that little shit has some nice muscles,’ she admitted. The Shepherd kept appraising the Zofian boy, paying attention to his wiry body. ‘Not quite built, but he’s got something started. I can see why Clair is so taken,’ she declared.

Like all Robins, she was drawn to the World Archives and had accepted a position there as an attendant. She’d spent some time thumbing through the public records, but had quickly lost interest in such dry and impersonal accounts. So her attention had wandered into the separate rooms themselves, mostly on the eventual destinies of the hundreds of warriors and Heroes that were documented within.

Sadly she couldn’t look too far, even with her capacity as an attendant. The most she could do really was see what would happen if someone lived, and who they would likely wind up with. It passed the time, but the less she spent dwelling on her new lot in life as a married mother reading about the romances of others, the better.

Her earlier plan ringed back in her mind, coming through after she’d dismissed it and settled on taking the two young men along. She’d been content with just teasing Gray, especially after Cordelia seemed to strike a rapport with Tobin. ‘Nothing wrong with bringing a little braggart down a peg or two, right?’ she mused

Robin had picked the two just so that she and Cordy could get into the caverns. When her attempts to scope out some finer stock ended in failure, Robin was ready to just enjoy the spring and court someone later that night. But things changed between the first step into the caverns, and her breaking the surface of the grotto.

She could only guess what the other duo was talking about, but with how relaxed they were, it was clear what direction they were going...and she knew just what she’d do to help that along.

Gray’s focus was torn away from his best friend and the strikingly beautiful knight as he felt something grab his shoulder. Before he could glance back, a hot breath of air blew into his ear, followed by some strikingly innocuous words. “Why don’t we just leave them alone?” Robin suggested.

She was already pulling him away before he could respond…

Robin slowed to a crawl as they came before a large cavern. It was similar to the long cave that they’d fought in, although they could actually see the other side. In truth this was an exit tunnel - meant to lead people away from the grotto back up to the beach. A single crack overhead let in the light of dusk, casting the chamber in ever-growing shadows.

Gray had been silent the whole way, not even protesting as the older woman dragged him away from the grotto. The tactician led him to a nearby boulder before stopping. She let go of his hand and turned back to him. “Something wrong?” she asked.

“Just something Tobin said… I’m not sure why, but I feel like he’s talking about me,” Gray admitted. It took her a moment to realize that he was talking about the conversation they’d left on. Robin couldn’t make out what was said, but it seemed like Gray might’ve had an inkling at least.

“I see…” Robin said. She banished her cravings long enough to turn and address him, not as a woman, but as a concerned mother. “Think you’ll be okay?” she asked.

“I think so yeah,” Gray admitted. He tried to avoid looking at Robin’s cleavage, stealing glances when he thought she wasn’t focused.

Of course she saw him ogling her body, much to her delight. ‘Okay he’s still in it. Plan’s back on track!’ she silently cheered. Her smile morphed from kindly to something more...predatory. “Good. because i’ve got something a lot more enjoyable planned for us,” she explained.

“I um...wha-” he stuttured, only for her finger to cut him off.

“You’re not that dense Gray, I can tell you that much,” Robin lectured him. Her hand pulled away, with Gray’s mouth trying to follow it. She leaned down, putting her puckered lips a scant few inches away from the young man. His labored breath sent a tingle down to her core. “So what are you waiting for?” she whispered.

Gray was shocked by how brazenly she admitted her desires. He leapt at the chance, literally crashing against her.

“Aack! Mot sho hahd!” she chided him. He backed off, giving her room to rub her mouth for any sign of bruising.

“Jeez, you could take care of all your enemies with a headbutt, buddy,” she lectured him. Her dour expression softened as she turned the charm back on. “Now why don’t you come back here and try again?” she cooed.

Gray took her offer and renewed his kiss. He was far gentler this time, holding her close as their lips smacked together. She kneeled down a bit, putting herself closer to his level as she gauged his attempt. It was nice, but not really what she was looking for.

Ultimately It was less of a lover’s kiss as much as a boring one.

Gray pulled away, silently waiting her appraisal. One look at her bemused face shattered whatever nerve and resolve he’d managed to build up. Robin took one look at his pitiful face and decided it was time to take charge

“Alright, enough pussyfooting. Like this, ” she insisted. She grabbed the back of his head and propped up his chin before throwing herself down on his surprised face. She was so forceful that gray took a few steps back, leading them to the nearby wall and leaving him pinned between a horny Shepherd and an unstirring rock.

He was still being far too tepid for her tastes, but she wasn’t about to rebuke him. Instead she gave him a little more ‘practical’ examples by pushing harder into his lips. Her tongue darted out and feathered his sealed mouth. She ground her hips closer to his pelvis, hoping to entice him to follow her example. The loud slurping sounds were just an added flair.

Gray took those lessons to heart and applied himself. Pupil rose to match teacher, mimicking her moves. Satisfied, she advanced things further by pressing her tounge against his mouth. ”Ohben uck,” she attempted to say.

Luckily, the villager understood what she wanted, even if he was a bit perturbed by the concept. Her tongue darted into his now-open mouth and coaxed out his tongue. The two slimy, slobbering swords clashed and coiled around each other. Ultimately he managed to snake into her mouth, much to her glee.

Robin’s hands gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into the toned muscles above his biceps. His own hands were more overt and reached up to clutch her breasts. He could barely hold her generous ttis in his hands. “Mmmm,” she cooed in delight.

Eventually their bothersome lungs screamed for air, forcing the two apart. Gray looked up the bridge of spit into Robin’s hooded eyes, watching her relish the taste of honey from his earlier treat.

“T-that’s more like it,” she struggled to admit. “Now do it again.”

Their wanton sounds echoed around the small cave, interspaced by smacking and muffled moans. Gray’s hands were still firmly on her breasts, giving her aroused-yet-covered nipples a few tweaks. The sensations of her pebbles rubbing against the material of her top became too much to bare. She reluctantly withdrew one of her hands from his body and blindly groped at her back

Snap

Gray opened his eyes long enough to see the parted straps of her bikini top fall lax against her sides. His hands were the only thing keeping the garment up and protecting her modesty. With that in mind, he didn’t hesitate to let go of her tits for the scant moment needed for gravity to take her swim top down to the cavern floor. ‘By the Earth-mother,’ he gawked.

Robin’s breasts were bare before his eyes, the first pair he’d ever bore living witness to. He could barely see the lines where her pasty skin had tanned in the sun, leaving noticeable patches on her boobs. His interest was more on her swollen nipples. Robin pulled back and hotly asked, “Why don’t you show them some love?”

Gray swallowed, but obliged her offer. He palmed her chest, weighing each orb in his hands. She mewled in appreciation before offhandedly mentioning, “Be a little rougher. Taps are already closed though.”

The villager wasn’t really sure what she meant, but he put it aside in favor of doing what she said. He squeezed her breasts tighter. His thumb and middle digits pulled and tweaked her nipples. “Th-AAh!...that’s betterrrr,” she declared.

Robin let him play around with her breasts, giving her young target time to adjust and explore her tits. Her hand reached behind and stroked his hair. She was fairly confident he would stay the course...a tactical blunder.

As if sensing her premature judgement, Gray leaned down and popped one of her boobs in his mouth. She gasped as he suckled and licked her nipple. “H-Having fun?” she inquired.

Gray was too focused on nursing her swollen breasts to respond.

She let him indulge her for a long while, and gladly would have let him go on for hours. But the heat between her legs reminded her that she had far greater ambitions to pursue. So she pulled him up, locking her bemused golden eyes on his shocked black pools.

Robin shouldered off her cloak, letting it fall to the ground. Her gloves followed, exposing her articulate fingers. She quickly busied herself with reaching down to undo the knot of Gray’s smallclothes. The now-loose article fell to his feet, joining her discarded garbs. She looked down and gave an appreciative whistle.

“Not bad, kid,” she praised. Her hand squeezed his length, relishing the way she could make him gasp in her grip. ‘A little bit small...but I think it’ll do nicely,’ the tactician decided. Her fingers dropped to the base, nestling her digits in his thick pubes. “Untamed...guess it only makes sense, huh?” she smirked.

He was confused at her meaning, at least until she used her free hand to tussle his hair. The almost-motherly act was offset by her steadily pumping his dick. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Just stand back and let me handle things,” she cooed.

She was already descending before he even answered. Her ministration had pumped enough blood into his loins that he was hard and ready for her. Robin gave him an exploratory lick from tip to base, only to balk at the overly salty taste.

“Ugh...hand me the water,” she requested. Gray obeyed her request, handing her his flask. Robin took the provision and poured it over his cock, washing away the grotto’s lingering effects on his loins. The older woman gave a quick lick to appraise her work, and found it acceptable. “Mmm, that’s better. Not too salty anymore,” she said.

Satisfied, Robin resumed her work. She forewent the long lathers in favor of feathering kisses across his shaft. Her hand gripped his base, holding him in place for her. Her other palm fondled and squeezed his balls.

“Gods!” Gray moaned. His back was too the rock now, placing him firmly within her grasp. He dared to glance down, locking into the ravenous woman’s lust-clouded eyes.

Robin kissed his cockhead before pushing her lips over his glans. Her tounge tickled the underside of his crown. Her mouth formed a tight seal around his girth. She attempted to pop her lips, crating a gurgling ‘Mwop ’ that assaulted her younger target’s ears.

She attempted to push him down her throat, only to be stopped by how thick his cock was. ‘Hmph, we’ll see about that,’ she silently growled. The driven woman shook her head a few times before letting him out of her mouth “Pwah!”

Gray was taken aback by her strategy, but didn’t have time to inquire. Robin had already gathered a copious amount of her spit and reared over his angrily twitching rod. “Aaah…” she drooled out all the buildup in her mouth, making his already-wet cock even more slick. Satisfied with her work, she braced herself for the next phase.

‘Gulp!’

Robin’s mouth soared past his glans and over his shaft. She made it to the point where his slit threatened to enter her throat before resistance reared its ugly head. ‘Not this time. Time to tip the scales!’ she declared. The amnesiac took a deep breath through her nose before slamming her head down the rest of his length. “Gahk!”

“Mila’s tits!” Gray cried. His hands clutched her head, holding the Plegian woman’s head in place. He relished the kiss she was giving his pubes, the sensation of her lulling tongue pressed against the bottom of his shaft. ‘S-She’s incredible!’

‘This might have been a bad idea,’ Robin grimly mused. Her breaths came heaving out, causing her target’s dick to throb in her stuffed throat. She tried pulling her head back, only to realize that it was quite snug in her esophagus. ‘Definitely a bad idea.’

She kept struggling to pull away, feeling his pubic hair tickle her lips. Unbeknownst to her, Gray and his inexperienced body was taking her plight as arousing and brought him up to the brink of release. “Gods Robin, I-I’m-!”

The tactician’s eyes widened in alarm at his words. Her attempts to pull him out increased. She could already feel herself getting a little lightheaded, and the flickers of black around her vision were getting alarmingly wider. She placed her hands against his knees and tried to pull back.

Slowly, she felt his cock slide back. Her lips left his pubes behind. She felt his glans rub against the entrance of her throat. ‘J-just a little...little more,’ she mentally panted. Drool pooled out her lips, dropping onto her tits below…

“Aaah!”

Robin relished the quick gulp of musky cave air that came rushing in through her nose. She let a few ropes of sperm pass down her sore throat, too invested in the sweet sensation of breathing to care. Such was the case until a spurt landed on her tongue, giving her a taste of her younger partner’s tongue.


Oh gods it’s so bad,’ she lamented. Robin reached up and pinched the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Gray swiftly removed his hand in shock, letting her pull her head back and off his still-cumming dick. Her mouth and eyes stayed firmly shut as she endured the shower of spunk. ‘Better than eating any more of that slop,’ she declared.

Gray’s loads sputtered to a halt, leaving the woman’s face glazed in Zofian seed. Robin blindly groped around for the nearby flask, finding it a little ways from her. She popped the cork and splashed some of the remaining water on her face. Once she was sure most of it was coming off, she downed the rest and grabbed his trunks to finish wiping herself down.

ulp - Piece of advice - pineapple. A lot of it,” she lectured him. Gray nodded, a little miffed at how she’d used his trunks to clean herself off. Before he could air his grievances, the shapely tactician was already back on her feet and alarmingly close. “Let’s stick to the basics for now,” she purred.

Gray swallowed, his face caught somewhere between unease and arousal. Robin smirked at the sight. ‘You wear your emotions on your sleeve, brat. I could be downing that fruity liquid death the Princess is chugging and I’d still be able to read you like a book,’ she silently boasted.

She tested that theory by hiking down her bikini bottoms and dangling them on her finger right in front of his face. As expected, he followed her every move. ‘Around my little finger,’ she declared. Ultimately she decided to lay down the law, just so he understood his role.

Robin slid thier pelvis’ together, relishing the sensation of his cock rubbing her folds. The tactician pulled herself closer, whispering in his ear, “Feel that? That heat, the juices dripping onto your dick?” she cooed.

Gray was too distracted to let out any more than a brief grunt. His eyes briefly picked up on an irregular mark on her ring finger, but passed it off as a trick of light. Not that it mattered, when he had the woman’s bottoms choking his nostrils.

“I know your still green behind the ears, kid. You talk big and put on a show, but it's clear this is the furthest you’ve ever made it,” she teased. Her earlier tactics had made him compliant, even as she taunted him. Leaving her bikini bottoms on his nose solidified her confidence in the ‘plan’. “Well don’t worry. Everyone needs a teacher, right?” she mused.

Robin adjusted her hips, placing the villager’s throbbing dick at her pussy lips. She pushed her swimsuit aside and captured his lips in a brief yet passionate kiss. The tactician pulled back, biting and stretching his bottom lip before declaring, “Now pay attention, because class is in session.”

With that said, she resumed suckling on his mouth. Her hips squirmed and rolled, pushing Gray’s cock further and further into her folds. She threw her arms back, securing him in her grasp.

The eager young man wasted no time and started to thrust into her tight snatch. ‘Gods...is she really a mother? She’s so tight ,’ Gray wondered. His musings went unanswered as she pinched the back of his neck.

The amnesiac pulled away and spoke with a hot whisper, “Mmm, I should be saying to start slow, but you’re already getting the hang of things,” Robin admitted. She reached up to twirl a hair on the back of his head before pulling it taught with her mere finger. “So keep going, kid,” the tactician cooed.

The sound of wet slapping echoed throughout the cave. Robin kept her grunts down, opting not to try and fake her lustful affirmations. ‘He’s good, but he can be better...I hope, she mused. The woman opted to try and push him by moving away, hoping he’d be driven to follow her. However, she overestimated where she was stepping and slipped on a smoother stone.

Robin fell forward, grazing her knee against the rock. She was only saved from further ruin by her target’s grip and the solid footing of her other leg. The amnesiac winced in minute pain, but was quickly overtaken by a new sense of pleasure.

Gray took advantage of his new reach and latched onto her breasts, suckling the tit he’d neglected earlier. His hands fell into place, wrapping around her back and grabbing under her hiked up leg. With this newfound grip, he increased his pace rapidly.

“A-aah!” Robin yelped as the sensation of nursing came flooding back. Though she’d long since run dry, she could still fondly recall the sensation of being milked by her dear newborn son. Such thoughts were a haze however as errant thrusts brought her crashing back to her current act.

‘Much better,’ she silently praised. Her nails scraped against the rock, her toes curled in her boots. Gray was playing with her body now, massaging the skin above her jiggling ass. His other hand rolled and pinched her leg, sending sparks from her haunch all the way to her spine. She showed off the flexibility hidden in her supple curves by squeezing her thighs closer together.

Her ploy worked a little too well, especially on such an inexperienced younger man. “Yaaaaah!” he grunted as rope after rope of cum was shot into her gushing sex. She felt her vacant womb being filled, though the amount was rather miniscule. As she fell off the wrong side of her threshold, her lust was overtaken by disbelief and thinly veiled ire.

“...Really? That’s it?” Robin panted. Gray said nothing, too busy collecting his breath. The now-disappointed woman pushed him back, ejecting his nearly-limp dick. “And just when I was starting to get into it,” she sighed.

She resisted the urge to frig herself to completion, intent to leave as swiftly as possible. She reclaimed her gloves and stuffed them into belt. Her top was affixed back onto her breasts, covering the manhandled melons.

Robin turned away and reached down for her cloak. Her fingers closed in around the fabric of her trusted garb, ready to claim it and leave her catch behind. However, he struck from behind, sending the two toppling atop the rumpled garment. She gasped at his assault, but quickly resumed her facade of control.

“F-finally gotten some nerve, have you?” she chuckled. Gray said nothing, but let his actions speak for him. His renewed vigor sawed between her buttcheeks, making her wince. “And raring to go again too...should I be impressed?” she mocked him. In response, one of his thrusts pulled too far back and wound up rubbing against her puckered star.

‘Ooh crap! I can’t let have that, he’ll split me in half,’ Robin mentally panicked. She kept her cool facade up and attempted to goad him back into her fold. She bumped her rump up and spread her legs. “Hmph, think you can take me like this?” she challenged.

‘Please don’t be creative, please don’t be creative,’ she mentally chanted. Luckily for her, the young man didn’t even consider her backdoor, and instead opted to ramn himself back into her gushing pussy.

‘Whew, that was close,’ she sighed in relief before the act came back. “A-Alright, so you want a remedial lesson?” Robin baited him. Gray let his hips do the talking, making her gasp as his balls slapped her ass. “Mmm...Good answer. Try not to fail again, okay?”

The two spoke no more, letting instinct and action tell the tale. Her young target’s dick churned in her cum-stuffed pussy. Her walls were being stretched far further than they’d ever been before. It was wonderful...and terrible.

Robin was at a frustrating threshold - teetering on the edge of the orgasm she dearly craved, but being held at bay by his inexperience. ‘I’m in hell…’ she lamented.

His arm reached down and wrapped around her stomach. His other hand dipped lower and blindly scraped through her silver pubes. Robin’s spit drenched into her cloak, creating an obvious wet patch. Gray looked at her disheveled face and gave a smirk of satisfaction. ‘Not so cocky now, are you?’ he quietly taunted her.

The villager decided to be more daring and called upon the limited experience he had with The Dances of Mila. his time with the uncensored works was brief, but he at least recalled a particular drawing and a passage with it.

Rise as the sun, so that the Mother may hear your praise

Gray pulled himself up onto his knees, taking her sopping pussy with him. Robin didn’t protest as her boy was arched up, leaving only her hands, boobs and cheek against the ground. His cock wound up rubbing against her puffy clit, triggering the orgasmic flood that had been building within her.

“EEEEYYAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Robin’s scream echoed through the cave, sending some bats rustling away in a panic. Gray winced, but kept going with his multi-pronged assault on the master tactician. He pulled her over, rolling the two onto their sides. Yet she was too addled by her climax to care, and was utterly limp in his arms.

Robin was beyond that dark cave, and her young target. She was consumed in an endless world of euphoria. Colors clashed and danced into brilliant white as fire spewed out of every pore. If she were at all lucid, perhaps she could’ve seen a dark glint shirking away.

The new mother came to slowly. She winced away the shards of light, returning to the evening embrace that had enveloped the duo. As more and more of her senses came back, she noticed something about herself. In addition to the incredible relief of a long-awaited release, she felt...at peace.

Her earlier mean streak was gone. In its absence was her confusion and shame, regret for how she’d treated Gray...a little. ‘I-I don’t know what came over me…’ she lamented. As she felt his chest rubbing against her back, Robin tried to speak.

“Ugh...that was…” she couldn’t finish. She simply lacked the words to describe the ocean that had washed her away. ‘Gods...how LONG have I wanted this??’ the tactician wondered. She almost missed him bucking his hips, dislodging some of their sexual slurry onto her treasured cloak.

“Mmm, still raring to go are you?” she weakly asked. Gray’s cocky smirk was all the answer she wanted. “Heh, good to hear,” she smiled back.

The two resumed, using a slower pace this time. They were rocking back and forth, locked in an embrace oft reserved for lovers. Robin didn’t miss the similarities, but waved them away. ‘There’s nothing to this - it’s just a little fling in a world that neither of us will recall,’ she reminded herself. Her indented finger reached back and cupped his chin.

Pat pat pat pat

“Gods…”

Gray froze mid thrust. The word echoed through the cave, a voice that wasn’t his...or hers. ‘Oh shit!’ the villager panicked. His view was blocked thanks to the rock, but it was clear that someone had somehow wandered into the cave and had found them. He tried pulling away, only for Robin to reach back and grab him. “Don’t you dare stop,” she hissed.

The tone in her voice made it hard to disobey, and his traitorous loins wasn’t making it easier. Still, Gray’s brain was still in control, even if it wasn’t quite as operational as it ought to be. “B-But there’s...um...”

“What’s the matter? Getting cold feet just because we have an audience?” Robin asked. Her tone made it clear she had no intention of stopping. The fact her hips were still moving made that all to clear, even keeping him from growing limp in her tight quim.

“We’re concealed by the rock. Beyond that - wIth how dark it is and how distorted the cave echoes, we’ve got nothing to fear,’ the tactician offhandedly explained. Gray attempted to protest, only for her to hold his tongue. Literally.

“We’ve got an audience...so let's give ‘em a show,” she declared with a downright evil grin. Her fingers pinched down on his tongue even more for good measure. Her younger target was too stunned to react. ‘Morgan, you’re mom is a FREAK.’

He should’ve run. Pulled out and high-tailed it out of this cave and left the nymphomaniac and voyer to sort things out. Still, his mind was no longer in control of his body. As she kept humping him, his cock rose to the challenge.

Robin saw that he was on board with her plan and grinned. She let go of his tongue and leaned up to speak. Her voice carried over the sounds of slapping skin and surely reached their audience. “Good boy. Now make me scream, ” she demanded.

Even she seemed shocked at what she’d just said. ‘Oh gods what am I doing?! Robin lamented. ‘What am i saying, for Naga’s sake?! This isn’t...this doesn’t sound anything like me!’ she protested.

Gray was too busy obeying her commands to address her obvious insecurity. His hips rammned against her ass, sending ripples across her curvaceous body. ‘This is all too crazy...and damnit all do I want MORE.’

Gray kept pounding away, forgetting his earlier reservations. He no longer cared if there was an audience, nor how big it potentially could be. The tightening in his balls made any of that information irrelevant. “Gods, I-I’m gonna-!”

“Don’t you DARE pull out!” She barked at him. Her nails dug into his arm for good measure. He didn’t try to disobey her, as she anticipated. She was so convinced that he was wrapped around her little finger.

She didn’t expect him to hike up her leg. “Aaah! Y-you’re going so de-eeee?!” she squeaked. He kept thrusting, Even as he unloaded his Zofian seed into her rapidly filling womb. Each time their hips met, more and more of their verboten union stained her cloak.

Gray slowed down, trying to catch his breath. Robin said nothing, content to feel his girth inside her tight snatch. The cave had grown silent, letting her pick up on a sounds she had earlier overlooked. Subdued grunts and the tune of skin slapping. ‘I-is he...oh’ she realized what their unknown spectator was doing.

The tactician kept rocking her lower body, even as she reached back and gently pulled Gray down. “Do you hear that?” she whispered.

Robin gave him a few moments to catch up before she spoke again, “Like I said - let’s put on a show,” the Plegian declared. She grinded her rear against his lap, just to show how serious she was.

Gray resumed, struggling to match his earlier pace. His grunts were louder, more labored as each thrust was accompanied by a heavy gasp for air. She felt a twinge of sympathy, but had to harden her heart and play to her ‘character’. ‘I don’t know where this is coming from...or why its coming so naturally,’ she mused before answering her ‘cue’.

“H-harder you bast-AAH!” she was cut off as Gray latched up on her neck. His pace slowed to allow him to attack her delicate skin, littering her with a series of nicks and bites. Her shrieks grew louder, still thundering around the cave to their audience's ears.

Robin reached back and pulled him closer, forcing his face into her neck. He smelt the salt and brine that had been drenched into her skin, but also the heavy musk that had choked their noses for quite some time now. He took it all in, committing the scent of this twisted moment to his deepest memory.

Both of them were near their peak, their bodies past the point of collapse. His thrusts became errant and disheveled. She picked up on this and offered her aid in the form of thrusting back more. Somehow between their two sloppy antics, they reached euphoria together.

“GOOODSSSSSSS!” Robin screamed. Her spit flew out and smacked against the rock. Her body spasmed as orgasmic thunder fried her from the inside out. Her head smacked against the ground, nestled by her well-placed cloak. Drool slipped out of her mouth and smeared against the fabric.

His cock slipped out of her already-stuffed sex. Instantly he latched onto his erection and vigorously pumped it closer to release. The sticky bridge between their loins broke and landed on her thighs.

The tactician came back to her senses and saw Gray standing over her. She struggled to right herself, sluggishly coming up to her knees. “Cum on me! All over my face!” she snapped.

His hand moved faster and faster, sending wet slaps around the cave to join the voyeurs own. Robin heard both of them and felt her legs gushing in response. Her fingers dug into her cloak in anticipation for the looming storm. And then her world turned white once more.

Gray’s load drenched her hair before landing on her face. She let the salty slurry drop to her propped up chest, pooling into the valley of her breasts. The heavy scent of musk and sex made her lightheaded.

Robin’s head landed against her coat, wincing when a sharper rock prodded her cheek. Her eyes slowly uncrossed, letting her briefly make out their surroundings before her vision became too dark to see further. Her hand reached down to her leaking pussy, tracing around the mess thier conjoined loins had made.

“I think we scared em off,” Gray panted, snapping her out of her post-coital bliss. She gave a small huff at his interruption. Still, his trespass did remind her that she was still more than eager for another go...or three.

The villager was taken aback when his older lover rolled him on his back. Robin laboriously pulled herself up, holding the rock for support. She looked back, letting him see the carnal glint in her eyes, even in the dark. “Who cares? You still owe me a few more loads, buddy,” she growled.

Gray’s dick stirred at her words, eager for more...

“Should we do something about them?” Gray asked. At his feet were the huddled forms of Cordelia and Tobin, the latter compressed against the former’s toned, supple body. They looked so serene, so peaceful in the cool night.

“...Nah, let them sleep. They’ll be fine as long as they leave before dawn,” Robin shrugged. She stepped past the sleeping couple, leaving them and her young fling behind. She made it a few feet before turning back and asking, “Now...care to join me in showering off?”

Gray chased after her without a single thought more.


Chapter Text


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The Holidays had arrived in Askr, especially in the halls of Folkhalla. The many rooms and chambers had been festooned with lights and bells, ribbons and garland that weaved around and between the columns. The spirit had infected nearly every person that called Folkhalla home, from the youngest timid child to the oldest knight. And this night would be no exception.

Tonight was something special - a private gathering in the castle’s bar. Here the drinks flowed as freely as the revelers themselves. Friends and foes, royalty and commoner, and soldiers and Heroes gleefully regaled and mingled. The Barman watched with a soft smile hidden behind his beard.

The smoky tavern had been transformed by the spirit of the season. Wreaths hung from the wall planted spears alongside softly glowing lanterns. The training dummy chairs were swapped out for proper ones, while the tables had cloths concealing their nature as former archery targets. A simple troupe was set up in the corner, adding music to the already festive ambiance. And there at his post was the ever popular Barman, ready to serve the brave fighters and Heroes with all the mead and ale they could ever want.

Of course the festival Heroes were the most eager and active. The four from before, and the new group this year. The Barman hadn't seen much of the new faces since they were busy mingling through the castle. He took some time to wipe a glass clean as he scanned the packed tavern.

There was Hector and Ephrahim, along with the festive son of the Ostian’s best friend. He was just at the threshold to be admitted, though he didn’t seem to be so keen to drink. ‘Kid’s not bad on his feet though,’ the barman chuckled as he glanced at the spring ninja glancing at the clearly flustered lad. ‘Hmm, guess that’s ‘nother rumor proven.’

If there was one thing that was even heavier than the haze of alcohol, it was the simmering heat of sexual tension. As one of the only ones not currently indisposed, the Barman was in a prime position to pick out obvious couples. Like how the Princess of Renais would occasionally lock eyes with her brother across the room. “Not my business,” he muttered under his breath as another patron came wandering over.

The night rolled on and the taps ran free. The troupe had long run out of carols and rhymes, and had settled into some simple tunes. A few innocuous pairs were still dancing (the Barman spied the normal Robin leading his cheerful daughter in a simple waltz, along with Hector and his little girl), but most of them had paired off and were loudly chatting at tables. One such duo were the festive forms of the exalt and one of his soldiers.

“Hah… that hits the spot,” Chrom finished his mug. His bare arms flexed as he set it down. His festooned attire contrasted the green tablecloth nicely. Falchion was popped against the table alongside his bag.

“Mmm,” the dark mage hummed in agreement. Tharja’s already lascivious attire paled in comparison to her attempts to be ‘normal’. Gone was the bodysuit, exchanged for a pair of fur-lined swimwear of all things. Her stockings reached mid-thigh and were capped off by ribbons and more fur. The matching cape was still draped over her shoulders and fastened by the bell and bow. Her enchanted candelabra now sat in the middle of the table.

The two were hardly close, but could hold a fine conversation. Especially with the added liberation that the bar’s taps had provided. Tharja’s giggles were a little more high-pitched, and Chrom’s chortles were a touch more boisterous.

“I have to say, you really took Robin by surprise under the mistletoe,” Chrom said. He tipped down another mug of brew, one that favored the broth over the holiday dressing.

Well, it's always important to follow customs to the letter,” Tharja shrugged. She couldn’t conceal her devious smirk, however. She was a bit dejected at the results, but after a few drinks it didn’t hurt as bad...well, more than a few.

“Still, having a beautiful woman practically jump his bones, and he turns craven!” the prince admonished his comrade and friend. The cavalier admission of her allure took her aback...yet she didn’t exactly mind the compliment.

“You know...I did always think you were rather dashing, prince…” she admitted…

The troupe had retired, as had a few of the partygoers. The lanterns were now dim as the lights within dwindled from sight. The Barman still did his duty and served brew and drinks to whoever asked. Though with more downtime, he could perceive a few couples that were getting a little too amorous in polite company. ‘Luckily, all the proper types left,’ the man silently mused as he looked around.

Some were far more overt, like the Nohrian thief Niles whispering something in Clarisse’s ear. The prominent bloom on her cheeks almost distracted from his hand on her thigh...almost. Not too far off was Robin with the princess of Freege herself on his lap. ‘Heh, if what that old seadog said is true, then maybe I should lock the storeroom now rather than chance it,’ the Barman chuckled.

He looked around for the most important trio - the commander and the royal siblings. Sharena was being led out the door by a concerned Camilla ‘That’s the one from the New Year’s festival’ the barman noted, but Alfonse and Anna were nowhere to be seen. ‘Now where did those two wind up I wonder?’

Things might have quieted down, but if anything the room was even hotter now. It was clear now that the tension had gotten quite thick, so now the only question was...who’d break first? The Barman slowly wiped down the bar as he scanned the room. ‘Hmm, my money’s on the ninja grabbing the kid. Then again, those two thunder mages are pretty much dry-humpin’ now…’

Crash!

“?!”

Two of them had finally gotten over themselves and just leapt onto the table. The patrons gawked as the festive prince and the ‘normal’ girl suckled each others lips and swapped spit. A heavy silence fell over the tavern, broken only by the sloppy moans and smacking of two Shepherds in heat.

...

“Holy shit!”

Like a floodgate, the crowd broke out. Cacophonous hoots and hollers spurred the two on. It was more than clear that the alcohol had pretty much thrown out any sense of moral decency, with a few other couples pulling away and leaving the scene for more...intimate, locations. The Barman simply watched on and mulled his options. He should be putting a stop to this...

“...Eh, I’ll just put the damages on Anna’s tab,” he shrugged.

Be sure to check out the rest at the Black Penguin's Sexy Santa Smut Showcase!

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


Twas the night of the Envoy.

That special night where the patron saint would walk the kingdom under the cold blanket of winter stars, seeking out the waiting hearths of the many dwellers of Askr. the Heroes of Folkhalla were no exception. The flurry of snow and moaning wind rattled the windows, including the chambers of the marglóð ranked Heroes.

“Hu-huh? Who’s there?!”

Roy woke up with a gasp, his eyes searching through the dim firelight. The log in his hearth had all but burned away, casting red-tinged shadows through his bedchamber. He could just make out Durandal perched on the stand where he’d left it, next to a simple, little tree draped in festive light. He could make out a shadowy figure looming around the tree, one that he could recognize as being feminine.

“Oh, did I wake you up? And I was almost done too,” she sighed as she turned to look at him. Even in the dim light, he’d recognize the regal face of his teacher and ally anywhere.

“M-Miss Cecilia?!” he mumbled. She gave a chortle as she pulled down her hood, revealing the long tapestry of green hair.

“Now now Roy, I think we both know that were long past that kind of a...relationship,” his old teacher chuckled. It took him some time to realize what she was implying, but once he did he couldn’t stop the blush from reaching his cheeks.

Shortly after her arrival, they both met at the World Archives. There they discovered the fate they could share, and the future life that could be theirs. Neither one quite knew how to respond to such a revelation...though neither one necessarily rejected the idea.

Roy looked down as he recalled what had made them decide to...forgo, such a relationship.“But I thought we were...I mean,” He stuttered.

“I know this was hard on you, Roy,” she calmly explained as she stopped at his bedside. She sat down and reached out to gently stroke his cheek, making him shiver at her touch. “We both said we’d take things slow, try to focus on our responsibilities…”

“Well, it is Envoy’s Eve, and you just so happened to be the last name on my list. Meaning i’m free for the rest of the night,” her hand reached up and unclasped the gold star, shuffling off her cape. Roy did his best not to look at her open cleavage and focus on her sparkling emerald eyes.

She gently turned his face towards her. He fought the desire to get lost in her serene face and struggled to listen to her plea. “So Roy, will you let your old teacher be a little selfish?”

Two weeks worth of pining glances and frustrating dreams came to a head, and he nodded so fast it was a marvel his neck didn’t snap. Cecilia laughed at her young lord’s reaction. “Good, because I’m getting tired of waiting,” she told him before looking up

ROy followed her gaze to the rafters over his bed. He made out a sprig of green and red berries neatly tied to the wood. “How did that mistletoe get up the-!”

Cecilia had already seized her lord's mouth in a hot, desperate kiss. Her tongue dived between his lips as she pushed their bodies closer together. Her fingers dug into his fiery locks. His hand reached out and copped a feel of her barely-restrained breast.

She coaxed out his tongue to engage in a fencing match. Spit was swapped between them as their tongues danced. Her free hand reached down and snuck under his shirt, tracing against his firm body.

Roy’s fingers reached over her neckline and grabbed hold of her breast, blindly groping for her erect nipple. His nail swiped the top of her teat, making her moan into their kiss.

The two went on for what could’ve been hours before their screaming lungs forced them apart. They struggled to catch their breath, neither one letting go of the other’s body. He let his teacher pull his sleeping shirt over his neck and expose his sculpted chest to her approving gaze.

“I’m here to give you your gift, my dear student - a lesson,” Cecilia explained in her ‘lecture’ tone. She knew that her pupil had a certain weakness for her when she acted as his teacher, and aimed to exploit it as much as possible.

“Aren’t I a little too old for more lessons?” he fired back. The way he was getting into their antics made her smile wider as her hands reached for the knot of his sleeping trousers.

“Oh trust me - this is a lesson i’m sure you’ll be quite delighted to have,” she promised before pulling down his pants. She watched her boy’s cock swaying back and forth. “It’s even better than I imagined,” she cooed as her fingers closed around his cock.

Roy groaned as his teacher lovingly rubbed him off. Her fingers were slightly cold, but not unpleasantly so. She reached up and brought him in for another simmering kiss. Her hand then reached down and started to roll and knead his glans.

Their moans and muffled giggles reached over the moaning wind and crackling fire. The night they now shared was one that both had yearned for, and were now all too eager to receive. Her reluctant departure from his lips was swiftly wiped away as she slithered down to replace her fingers with her tongue, and ultimately - her lips.

The pleasure of her hands couldn’t compare to the heaven in her mouth. Roy felt his body going limp as his sexy teacher slurped and sucked him off. Her hand vigorously stroked off the length that her lips had not reached, while her other palm had settled on his knee for balance.

“Mmph, mmph, mmph,”

Cecelia’s head bobbed up and down her lover’s cock. Her hand strokes grew shorter and slower as her mouth was able to take more and more of his length. Eventually she let her fingers slide down to cup his balls as she welcomed him into her hot, tight throat.

Roy’s hand flew up to her head. His teacher merely smiled with his loins between her lips. She started to hum one of the numerous carols that had filled the Order’s halls for the last few weeks - something about bells. She leaned in further and further until she was able to finally leave a long kiss on his lap, right under the sprig of mistletoe.

“Gods, Cecelia...I’m so close,” he warned her.

His teacher perked up and extracted his dick from her throat. She let his glans linger between her cheeks before releasing it with a wet pop . his cock let out a few punitive shots of precum, but she wasn’t perturbed in the slightest. “Not yet…” she told him before leaving a single kiss on his cockhead.

She was rewarded with another spurt of precum on the bridge of her nose. Cecelia licked her lips, scooping up the rest of her lover’s seed and swallowing it. She left the dollop on her nose as she shuffled off to the side.

Roy was catching his breath as she got off the bed. Her hands reached for her belt and deftly undid the clasps. She made sure he was watching as she let her festive outfit loosen around her. She pulled the top up and over her head before turning down to her skirt. A few untied ribbons and it was pooled around her feet, leaving her her in just her gloves, boots, and underwear.

His lover had gone rather sparse for the night - a single pair of green and white fur trimmed panties, more of a thong than regular underwear. the rest of her supple, flawless skin was on brazen display. Roy drank it all in - from her large, pert nipples to the thinly trimmed bush of her pubes that peeked out of her underwear.

Cecilia turned around and bent over, presenting her full ass to him. The young lord was so preoccupied he didn’t even notice her untying the laces of her left boot. Though he did look down just in time to see her sinuous calf clear the loosened head of her footwear.

Rather than repeat the process for her other boot, she shimmied back and plopped down on the bed. Her bare leg arched up, pressing her calf into her full, round ass. A single hand perched against her beaming chin.

“Mi-Te-Cecelia, why didn’t you take it off?” Roy asked. His older lover gave a simple, low giggle as she elbow-crawled back over to him. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her tits into his toned arm.

“Now, what good’s a gift if it doesn’t come in a boot?” she winked. Her body adjusted around Roy, draping a leg over his side. Her boobs stayed pressed against his body as she mounted him. His throbbing cock was pushed down by her warm, dripping pussy.

Cecelia took the opportunity and reached down to steal yet another searing kiss. She pulled back, leaving a trail of spit between them. The devious smile on her face glowed in the dying light. “I know that you can’t impregnate me here Roy...so why don’t we just call this practice, hmm?” she proposed.

She let that prospect linger over him as she adjusted her hips and swiped her panties to the side, exposing her dripping snatch. His lover placed his dick at her hot entrance. She pushed down, forcing the young lord into her most intimate sanctuary. The teacher moaned as her walls were forced apart.

At last her pelvis reached his, fully sheathing his girth within her. She basked in the glow of fullness- the sensation of being so intimately joined with the boy...no, the man that she loved. Her fingers caressed his bare chest, relishing the firm tapestry of muscles.

Neither one spoke, even as they slowly started to thrust. With her advantage over him, his teacher swiftly took the lead and established a brisk tempo. Roy’s hands reached back and seized her hips as he struggled to keep them straight.

Pap pap pap pap pap

“Mmm,” Cecilia melwed in delight. Her hands dug into the sheets, trying to keep herself up. Her ass rippled and bounced with every stroke, the white lining of her panties bounced in rhythm with their thrusts.

“Cecelia, it feels so...sooo,” Roy trailed off as he felt her tighten around him. His breath was becoming labored. His sweat dripping off his nude body and staining the sheets. He ignored his weary body and focused solely on her. On his teacher, on his confidant, his friend...his lover.

Cecelia was in no better shape. If anything she was even more exhausted as she rode him. “I know! Keep going, faster, harder…” she pleaded. ‘THis is everything...everything I needed,’ she thought happily.

The sounds of their hips smacking together was all they could hear. The odor of musk and sweat was all that could be smelled.Even as the last flickers of the fireplace went out, they could see each other - writhing, squirming in the darkness.

She unbunched one of her hands and reached up to his forehead. Her actions were shockingly gentle, especially compared to the vigorous pounding that was going on below. ‘Roy...my sweet, sweet little Roy,’ she silently wheezed.

He felt her fingers caressing his forehead, pressing down through the layers of sweat that had formed. His sore neck looked down from her blissful face and to her swaying, jiggling breasts. He waited until the right moment of her rolling hips before he acted - pushing her up his body and latching down on her right nipple.

Cecelia gasped at his sudden attack, but swiftly succumbed to his touch. She let him suckle her teat, as a newborn does. Her hand reached back and pulled his head closer. “Suck on them Roy - suck my tits!” she ordered.

Her pupil obeyed with gusto. His arm wrapped around her back, bringing her even closer and allowing him to lick her engorged nipple. His other hand went to her neglected breast and manhandled it in tandem with his mouth.

With Roy’s focus on her breast, Cecelia took over their rutting. Her hips rolled and smacked against his, sending sweat and sin flying with every thunderous clap. His dick scraped against her g-spot, making her arch her back and force his lips off her teat. Instead he settled between her bosom, suffocating in her marshmallow hell.

“Roy! I-I’m cumming!” she screamed. Her pussy drenched his lap as it clamped down. Her womb craved his seed...and her greedy walls would ensure she received it.

“Cecelia!” he yelled before slamming into her one last time. Wave after wave of Lycian pride shot into her. Her twat’s vice-like grip ensured that she’d milk every drop and paint her white. She collapsed on him, sucking in air. She felt his hot breath on her breast as he tried to do the same.

Time slipped away in the darkness, with only the moaning wind to mark its passage. His teacher held him close as she nurtured his seed. She felt him twitch and throb in her snatch, still firm and ready for more. ‘Time for your next lesson, Roy,’ she declared.

Cecelia used her limited strength to wrap her arms and legs around him, still joined at the hip. She rolled onto her back and pushed him up. The bewildered young lord barely managed to catch himself before he could be sent back into her heaving breasts.

“This is your next lesson - how to take charge,” Cecelia explained. “You can do anything you want to me like this...as long as it ends with me stuffed with Lycia’s heirs,” she demanded.

Roy gulped, but nodded. his hand closed on her boot-clad ankle and pushed her legs up...

Cecelia hummed a tune as she watched the burgeoning light. Her fingers traced through Roy’s hair as her former pupil softly snoozed in her arms. her body was covered in Roy’s seed, seeping out of her snatch and staining the sheets of the legendary Hero’s bed.


Her weary thoughts drifted to the crux of her bold action - His unlocked door. ‘I should chastise him for carelessly leaving his chambers open...but that can wait until

Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


NOTICE - while I won’t boast that any of the acts in my story are realistic (mostly because that’s boring), this one I feel I should be extra clear on - please for the love of god DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.


 

As the sun dipped below the trees, the sound of steel rang out in Fokhalla.

WHile most of the training was done in the sparring hall, there was no rules about modifying one’s quarters to perform the same functions. Space was the main drawback, but that was only really an issue for the Eir and below. The added bonus of being so close to your own effects and private facilities made it quite appealing for some fight-minded Heroes.

Such was the case of the woman who Alm was now sparring with. Her modest quarters as a Silfr Hero had been outfitted with a rack of spears and a few training dummies. She’d cast the chairs aside to make room. It was more than enough space for her alone, and with a partner, it made do.

“Ugh!”

Alm grunted as the spear struck his blade. The force sent him back, but he recovered in time to parry a jab to his chest. His gaze snapped up to meet hers and away from her compressed yet partially revealed breasts.

Mathilda - the Valkyrie of Zofia. Pride of the Earth-mother’s cavaliers, and war goddess of the Deliverance. She had swiftly proved her worth to the Order and had risen through the ranks. It was only a matter of time before she would be promoted to Marglòd.

Alm ducked under a kick that would’ve planted her heel against his neck. He nudged her thigh aside, trying to catch her off balance. Mathilda was two steps ahead of the young hero however. She quickly planted her spear in the ground and used it to reorient herself before bringing the tip to bear.

Neither one knew how long they’d been going. Sweat pooled down their bodies and stained their clothes. Muscles twitched and spasmed in protest from prolonged use. Their labored breath barely registered in the evening still. In the torchlight, her sweat-wracked skin almost shined.

She was radiant...and very, very much taken.

Finally, Mathilda made the next move...by dropping her weapon down. Alm followed suit, letting out a relieved sigh. She laughed at his sudden lethargy.“You’re improving, Alm. good work.”

He was grateful for the praise, but even more thankful for the long-desired respite. He sunk to the floor, perching a hand on his knee. Mathilda let him catch his breath before she continued.

“You still take too many risks. It’s noble that you want to cover your comrades, but that just means the healers need to spend time getting you back into fighting shape.”

He listened to her appraisal and criticisms carefully, knowing that he would catch hell if he repeated the same mistakes the very next time. Satisfied with his performance, she tossed him a flask of water. He caught it and downed its contents glady.

“Aaaah...Thank you, Lady Matilda. You seem to be more...fierce as well.”

She accepted his appraisal with a nod of agreement. Her focus was mostly on removing her plate, but she still had the focus to respond. “I have been in fine form of late...but I cannot be complacent. Not without Clive.”

Alm flinched at her mention of his confidant and her beloved. In truth, he felt guilty that they were unable to locate Clive yet. He kept this to himself though - if only to avoid a second thrashing. Instead he stayed focused on her...and tried not to linger as she removed her steel greeves for the black pantyhose beneath.

Mathilda continued on, unaware of his plight. “I’m sure we’ll find him In due time. Until then I will perform my duties and await that day.”

Alm was curious what she meant. “What then?”

She closed her eyes and wistfully smiled. “Then I will rest easier, knowing that Clive is with me again.”

Mathilda stretched out her leg, rolling her toes beneath her black leggings. There were a few noticeably louds pops, but otherwise his focus was solely on her supple, toned calf and thigh. Alm snapped out of it before it became too obvious. He stood up and quickly downed the rest of his water.

“W-Well, I should be departing.” he insisted, setting the falsk down on the table. He got up to leave, but froze when he got a whiff of something...foul.

Himself.

Despite his growing problem, Alm stopped and groaned in disgust. “Ugh...I smell like a Terror.”

Mathilda laughed in agreement. “Indeed.” She took a hearty gulp of her own drink before continuing, “You may use my shower if you wish. It’s not as nice as your lodgings, but should suffice well enough.”

Alm smirked. “As long as the water’s actually warm.”

She laughed at his jab at the public washrooms and waved him away. The young hero strolled to washroom and swiftly shut the door. As soon as he heard the click, he let out a big sigh.

“That was too close.”

A Silfr’s shower was functional, but also a little more furnished than barebones. The spew of water was wider than the ones at the training wing, and actually had some force behind it. The interior itself was simple stone with a ledge for placing creams about hip high.

Alm sighed in relief under the constant stream of hot water. His bare, sculpted body was buffeted by a cleansing wave, washing away the sweat and the soreness from his body. His suds-soaked hands wound up brushing against the source of his ire - the throbbing erection sticking out between his legs.

He’d really gotten it as he watched her take that long, chug of her drink. The way the droplets had slid down her cheeks and into her exposed neckline had made it impossible to look away. Couple that with the almost glowing sheen of her sweat-laden breasts had led to his unfortunate incident.

It was mollifying, even with his armor keeping it at visible bay. Perhaps it was natural to be drawn to such a state, especially by such a fine woman. But even with a certain kindly cleric’s words in his ears, Alm growled in frustration at his plight. “The last thing I need is more fuel for Gray’s fire.”

His thoughts wandered to his two friends and the new lad they’d picked up along the way. While none of the three young men had actually confided WHO they’d had relations with, it was clear there had been an impact on them. Some more positive than others. Still, he took their stories in stride, probably giving the impression that he wasn’t interested in something they assumed he’d never had.

They were quite mistaken.

Mathilda waited for the door to close and the hissing to start before letting out a deep sigh. “Damnit!”

She made her way over to her cupboard and pulled out her Envoy’s gift from Kagero - a bottle of Hoshidan sake. She didn’t bother pouring a glass and resorted to chugging straight from the bottle.

Her week had been a stressful one - constant assaults into the tempest, numerous runs into the Training Tower, and even just her daily training regiment had left her winded...and in desperate need of release. She’d had to resort to a spear handle up till now, but even that wasn’t enough anymore.

Mathilda crossed her legs, trying to ignore the aching in her needy loins. She lamented her missing love. “Clive...where in Mila’s name are you?”

Her and Clive had a close, loving relationship...but hardly an exclusive one. Just because they were less devout didn’t mean they didn’t have needs. Satisfaction was easy, exhaustion simply couldn’t happen...not alone.

But until this point they had been together, even if they had to wait to share a bed. Like the night after her rescue, where she’d rewarded three brave young men for their part in her liberation. One of which was now taking a shower in the other room, in fact.

And now she was faced with an Alm that had no recollections of that night. Thankfully the other two were in a similar state of negligence, but that didn’t really aid her in her current plight.

They’d talked about a case like this, and what it was okay to do. She knew that Clive had found release while she was captive, even if he didn’t bother her with the specifics. Surely this could be her excuse...right?

Mathilda finished downing the bottle and slammed it onto the table. Her mind was settled as she stood up and stalked to the door.

Forgiveness could come later - for now she had a shower to take...

Alm’s back was turned as he lathered up his hair. His eyes were closed, meaning he didn’t see her enter. The steam obscured most of his body, but she could still make out his well-hewn legs...as well as the underside of a long, impressively erect cock.

She quickly stepped into the corner, away from the dividing wall. The flustered woman recalled her previous encounter with the young man back in her world and quickly noticed something rather striking. ‘My word, i think he’s actually bigger this time…’

the thought sent a trembling down between her legs as she reached up to undo her coat. Numerous clandestine escapades with Clive had honed her skills, making it laughably easy to quickly and quietly disrobe.

Once her clothes were off, she quietly stalked over to the shower stall. At some point he’d stopped actually washing and was instead looking down at his obvious arousal. Not touching it, but clearly irate at its insistent presence.

‘Oh this is going to be fun.’ she silently chuckled before stepping into view.

“Ahem.”

Alm turned in shock to the woman standing behind him, hands on her hips. “L-Lady Mathilda?!”

Indeed, it was the Valkyrie herself- stripped to nothing. Her ripe, taut body was on brazen display - from her perky breasts all the way down to her trimmed muff. The statuesque woman didn’t balk from his gaze - on the contrary, she took it in stride.

“W-w-what are you doing in here?”

Mathilda laughed at his inquiry. “Well, it is my shower,” she said. Her shapely legs crossed the threshold and entered the confined space, getting rather close to the bashful young hero. “And you were taking too long.”

Alm tried to argue in his defense. II-I was finishing up!”

“Oh, were you?” she asked. He quickly realized how unflattering he sounded and tried to protest more, only to be cut off. “Don’t bother - I can see it for myself.”

Mathilda let him squirm under her gaze for a few more moments. Finally, she let the smile come out and laughed. “Alm, relax - I’m not here to scorn you. Some mere teasing is all,” she insisted.

“Oh...is that all?” he asked. She didn’t say a thing and merely stared at him. “W-wait, are you-?”

“Shouldn’t that be obvious?”

She cut him off, the playful smile somewhat soured now. Her ire was matched with a certain smolder in her eyes - a hungry one, plain to see. “You’re pent up, i’m pent up - surely we can help each other with that, yes?”

Mathilda gauged his reaction.he acted predictably, sputtering at her offer, trying to find some means to respond. Her keen eyes noticed every twitch, every shudder on his young but toned body. As if sensing his next question, Mathilda beat him to the quick.

“Tell me something Alm...do you know what it means to love someone?”

That swiftly shut down his inquiry. The veiled accusations of unfaithfulness spiraled back down his throat as he tried to process her question. “I don’t...I mean, I…”

Mathilda pressed on. “I don’t mean as far as platonic love, but the kind that makes you feel everything about that person.”

Alm’s expression made it perfectly clear how inept he was in the matter. She offered him a good-natured smile before continuing.

“Pride, happiness, jealousy, anger, frustration. Love isn’t just about wanting to be with someone forever, but finding yourself unable to live without them.”

Mathilda’s wistful face turned glum as she went on. Alm said nothing, did nothing, as she stepped closer and closer to him under the shower spray.

“It’s the bickering in the long hours of the night, possibly until you can’t stand to see them. But it’s also the day after, where you come to a compromise and swear to do your damndest to make everything work.”

She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it up and eying his palms. Coarse and rugged, yet almost refined. It wouldn’t be hard for him too pass for a noble on first blush, even in the stuffy dredges of Zofian’s aristocracy.

“It’s knowing that there’s no place for secrets or something that’s wholly yours. Your hearts, your minds, and your bodies are shared. That come what may you will stand side by side. Through good or ill, until your last breath.”

Mathilda reached out and lightly touched his chest, feeling the rythmic thumping within. The steady beat was almost comforting, even to her steel-laden heart. It matched well with his refined looks and demeanor. ‘I can see why Clair is so taken by him.’

Alm’s gaze lingered on her hand before he drew back up to her eyes. Her smile was warm and comforting. Her oft-steely gaze looked soft and almost inviting. The way her now-wet hair clung to her shimmering, lustrous skin made her look ravishing, even if it her war-honed body was still on full display.

He barely made out her next words under the steady hum of the shower. “That is love...and this is flesh.”

Her hand on his chest didn’t move, but he felt something clam down on his aroused loins. Alm stiffened up as he felt her run her smooth fingers over the length of his shaft.

Mathilda finished clearing the distance between them without moving her hands - One on his heart, the other on his groin.

“Confuse not the love of your other for the love of flesh. To want is mortal, to give-

“-To give is beyond.”

The two finished the scripture, much to the others shock. Mathilda’s strokes slowed down as she eyed him with amusement and veiled suspicion. “I thought you were denominational?.”

Alm looked away, embarrassed. He knew that she was referring to the pious, sheltered rearing of the Earth-Mother’s teachings he and the other dwellers of Ram Village had. “S-Silque may have been tutoring me.” he admitted.

Mathilda was curious now. “Oh? And how far did you make it in your studies?”

He didn’t answer her with words, but merely held up his hand. Three fingers rose, shocking her. To be that far into the teachings of Mia...it was honestly impressive for one so young. ‘Perhaps Clive and I should invite Silque for some...confessionals.’

“Well, nothing wrong with a refresher from time to time,” she admitted. Her hand reached up from his chest and clapped down on his shoulder. Her other palm kept stroking his dick. “So why don’t we go back to basics?”

Alm tried to lean up to her, only for her to firmly push him back. “One rule - no kissing.”

“I-I’m sorry! Silque never told me that!” he insisted.

Mathilda smiled at his defense, understanding that his acts were born of guidance, not intent. ‘At least he knows to start things right. Good job, Silque.’ she thought before explaining aloud, “That’s fair. It may not be one of the Earth-mother’s rules, but it is my rule.”

She leaned in this time, still a few inches from his gaping mouth. “...And I trust that you will honor it.”

It wasn’t a question, but Alm nodded all the same. Satisfied, Mathilda rewarded him by speeding up her strokes. He was like putty in her hand, ready to be molded and reshaped as she saw fit. And if the Valkyrie wasn’t such an honorable woman, he would’ve been.

Instead, she needed to see what the scopes of his teachings would entail, if only to keep from pushing him too far, too fast. So as she jerked him off, she asked him, “You’ve read up to the third text, is that right?”

He nodded.

“And I trust that Silque ‘tested’ you on all those matters?”

Alm was slow to confirm her suspicions, but ultimately relented with a quick nod. That meant that some of her preferred acts were off the table, but she'd make do with what he had to offer instead. “I see. Well, it never hurts to reread the scripture from time to time, yes?”

Feast in dawn, that you may face the new day

MAthilda urged him to the ledge, pushing him to sit down. It was shallow, but still wide enough for him to put his weight down. Satisfied, the Valkyrie got on her knees between his legs. Her mouth wound up just a few inches below the head of his cock.

She started slow, lathering it up with her tongue. Her hand rested on the base, guiding him up and down to give her more room to work. Her other hand reached down and weighed his balls. Here eyes stayed locked on him the whole time.

It was Mathilda’s personal creed that only Clive should get the pleasure of her mouth by the morning. Perhaps it was a boon then, that her sparring pupil had come to her on the cusp of evening. He had worked hard, and deserved suitable reward.

And that was something that the Valkyrie would not deny him.

Her tongue reached his base and started swirling around. Her hand pumped up his shaft and held his head back to keep it in place. She leaned her head to the side and gently took one of his nuts in her mouth, suckling it. Her tongue fondled it and bathed it in her spit.


“G-Gods!”

Mathilda smirked at his reaction. She spat it out and latched onto the next one, giving it the same tongue bath. Her fist on his cockhead rolled and tugged against it. She felt him squirt a little precum in her palm. She pulled her hand away and examined her stained, sticky fingers.

It was an impressive load, all things considered. She played with it a bit, flexing her fingers and making webs between her digits. Her lips were still noisily slurping on his balls.

She pulled away, leaving a bridge of spit between them. Alm goraned at her departure, but didn’t dare to make a move in protest. Instead he let her proceed without molestation, and was rewarded with the erotic sight of her lapping up the spunk on her hand and suckling each individual finger.

Mwah... not bad, but let's see how the main course tastes.”

With that declaration, she refocused on his crotch. Her hand angled his shaft to her. The Valkyrie licked her lips before leaning into engulf his dick. She swallowed him up to the back of her mouth...and then further beyond.

Mathilda took him all down with practiced ease. Despite his impressive cock, he was still only a young man - smaller than the likes of her beloved. It was a simple matter to swallow him in one go, trapping his loins in her tight throat.

Alm’s groan echoed through the shower stall, briefly reaching over the steady hum of the water. She paid him no mind and simply got to work. Her cheeks caved in as she sucked out all the air between her teeth. Her lips formed an impregnable ring around his shaft.

And then she started to bob her head.

Mathilda didn’t try to find a methodical rhythm. Instead she favored a more erratic pace - dragging him up against her lips before holding him in place. From there she would exchange tricks between shaking her head back and forth, rolling her tongue around the shaft, gargling or loudly choking, or even a combination of the three. Her pace was never consistent, and her timing was never the same.

And he loved it.

His hands flew up and clutched the side of her head, wrapping his fingers in her wet golden locks. Mathilda didn’t protest this action, but her gaze never once faltered. Nor did she let him try to hold her in place or control when and how she moved. A few light nibbles on his cock dissuaded such actions before they could begin.

Mathilda serviced the young hero’s cock, letting time slip by .She only took him out of her throat to briefly catch her breath, but never let him escape her lips before plunging it back down her gullet. The water didn’t cool, thanks to a freshly installed heating rune after the last one had flickered out. Instead she could relish the warm pelting shower as she sucked Alm off.

The Valkyrie’s skill was on full, brazen display. She took his dick with the same level of deft ability that saw her through battle after battle. Her wanton moans and vigorous passion made it blatantly clear - by battlefield or bedsheet, Clive was the luckiest man in the world.

Accept the gift of life as thanks for your efforts - on fields and in rest

“M-Mathilda I’m-!”

His warning came with an attempt to pull away. Her hands flew back and latched onto his bare ass, pulling him closer to her. One look at her fierce gaze made it clear what she expected of hm. What she wanted.

He granted her request.

With a mighty bellow, Alm came. His head flew back and smacked against the wall. Mathilda winced at the impact, but didn’t lose focus as she coaxed out load after load of his seed into her stomach. Her fingers squeezed into his buttocks. Her pussy dripped between her legs.

Her lips stayed firmly around his cock, leaving a long wet kiss against his groin. Her trained throat took every drop. Only when she was certain that he was tapped out did she see fit to pull him out of her gullet.

Pop!

Her lips left a noticeable bridge back to his loins. Her spit coated every inch of his dick, making it almost shine in the modest light. She admired her work for a few moments before turning up to Alm. “How’s your head?”

He stirred at her concern, reaching back to rub where it had hit. He shook off the pain and the blinding euphoria before trying to respond. “I’m okay...that was just...just...gods.”

Mathilda laughed. “I’m glad you liked it. Because trust me - there’s more where that came from. But first- time to return the favor.”

Oh weary man, may you ever bask in the fertile field and drink deep from the well

Mathilda helped him back on his feet, acting as a wall for him to lean against. She didn’t rebuke his hand as it pressed down on her toned stomach, nor when it wound up brushing the underside of her breasts. “Can you stay up?”

Alm tested his balance before answering “I...I think so.”

The Valkyrie nodded in approval before taking her own place on the shelf. She waited until his eyes were firmly on her before slowly opening her legs. The way her compact thighs rippled was a treat in and of itself...at least that’s what Alm thought before he looked between her thighs.

Her swollen pink lips, ripe and ready. He spotted the almost clear glaze of her nectar leaking out onto the shelf. Above was a unfettered patch of golden pubes, devoid of any attempts to sculpt or tame it.

Alm couldn’t help but ask her, “You don’t...shave?”

“Why waste time?” she shrugged. “It's as clean as yours was, so you better not turn craven on me.”

Her lingering threat hung over him as he swiftly nodded. He looked back and forth between her inviting loins and her expectant face. “Should I- How do you want me to start?”

“Hands or tongue - your choice to make.”

Her curt reply made it clear that was the last she wanted to say on the matter. ‘Okay, just like the second scripture...time to feast.’

Alm reached out and touched her tender lips. He stroked her pussy, testing the waters for her response. Her light mewls were sufficient to spur him further. He used two fingers to prop open her outer folds and bask in the glory of her inviting pussy. Try as they might, not even the finest Zofian artisans could hope to properly replicate the divine beauty of a woman’s loins. Especially not the beautiful pearl sitting above her channel.

Mathilda bit down on a finger, trying to muffle her moans. His touch was unrefined and a little callous, but again her long-deprived body responded like a bitch in heat. ‘How embarrassing...at least I know he won’t brag about this.’ she thought.

Of that, she was more than certain.

Alm kept stroking her pussy, massaging her puffy lips. His thumbs brushed against the inside, never quite reaching the point of outright penetrating. He looked up and almost froze at the flustered-yet-irate expression smoldering at him. The kind of face that simply screamed, Stick something in there, before I stick something in YOU.’

Give thanks to My land as you drink from My well

He quickly plunged two fingers into her snatch. Her heat closed around him as he wriggled and flexed in her folds, probing for the best reaction. She bit her lip to keep her approval silent. ‘You’re gonna need to put in some effort here, Alm.’ she thought.

Regardless, his efforts continued. Alm inserted a third finger into her twat and sped up his thrusts. His free hand pressed against her stomach for support. In the process his pinkie accidentally flicked her clit, sending a euphoric shock up her back.

“A-aah!”

Mathilda arched her back, pressing against the wall. Her hands flew down to grip the edges of the shelf as she struggled to stay composed. The Valkyrie didn’t know if it was just his fingers, or her own deprivation that riled her anymore. ‘Gods, Silque really is teaching him well.’

Alm took his new lead and ran with it, rubbing and tweaking her sensitive nub. He noticed that her strongest reaction came about when he pressed down on it. He could practically see the crashing waves of pleasure tearing her body apart from within. He could’ve just used his fingers and gotten her off, but Silque’s words echoed in his mind.

Tongue for tongue.

Alm adjusted his hand so that he could reach in and lick her folds. His first taste of her vaginal juices was… different, than what little he knew. Still, he couldn’t say it was unpleasant, and opted to keep going on.

His tongue glided up and down her slit, steadily getting more and more involved. His fingers shifted until he was holding her folds open with his thumbs. Mathilda rolled her hips into him, desperate to keep the euphoric storm going. Her bucking caused his tongue to finally dart in, much to their shock.

“F-Fuck!”

Alm pulled away quickly, reeling from the brief heat and tightness of her quim. Her errant hips sent her sensitive nub against his lips, spurring her on even more. She swiftly latched onto his head and shoved his face into her sex. Her nails sent jolts of pain through his scalp. He had little choice but to dive back into her sweltering well.

She grit her teeth as his tongue thrashed around in her snatch. Her hand flew up to her heaving tit, squeezing and groping it. She never even touched her nipple, either because it slipped her mind or she simply didn’t need it. Her attempts to stay silent were tarnished as his tongue grazed over one of her most sensitive spots.

‘To hell with it!’

Mathilda lost the battle and openly howled. The primal, lustful tone rang out over the steady hissing shower and bounced over the walls. She grabbed the shelf ledge and thrust herself forward, almost sending Alm bowling over. His own hands had to reach around and grab her calves to push back.

Alm struggled between holding her down and eating her out. IIt wasn’t wise to overlook the Valkyrie, even if he was currently driving her inch by inch to a much-needed orgasm. In kind, she was getting him addicted on her He wanted more.

He needed more.

Mathilda's eyes were clenched shut as she straddled the edge. His tongue was reaching so far into her pussy, reaching spots that even fingers would be hard-pressed to find. His lips formed a tight seal over her crotch, much like she had done with his. She felt him suck her twat...and then she felt no more.

Alm choked as her nectar came spewing out. His face was stained in her juices, with the rest ending up in his mouth. Her taste was...oddly sweet. Even sweeter than Silque in fact. He didn’t have qualms about feasting on her quim, and drank heavily.

As Mila wished

Mathilda slowly let go of the edge as she came down from her climactic high. It wasn’t the most intense one she’d ever had, but after so long it was enough to leave her rattled. “Mila’s sake...you’re not as raw as I expected.”

Alm swallowed the nectar in his mouth before nodding. There was some excess quim dribbling out from his lips. Just like when Clive would service her.

She resisted the temptation to strike, to lavish his lips until there weren’t any traces left. Instead she pushed her focus down to his renewed desire - ready for more.

Let your horse rest

“Get on the floor.”

Alm cocked his head, not sure if he heard her right over the shower. She repeated herself, with more clarity. “On your back - on the floor. Now.”

He scrambled to obey and laid down prone on the showerbed. It was a little tight, but ue was able to lay almost flat with the exception of his head against the back wall. As he did this, she stepped out of the shower only long enough to grab a few towels.

Alm watched her from the floor, feeling the hot pelting on his stomach and the looming cramp in his neck. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just get out?”

Mathilda huffed. “I already told you - why waste time?” she tossed him one of the towels and gestured at the back wall. The other two wound up on his sides against the floor.

Alm took the towel and placed it behind his neck. It helped to relieve some of the strain, though there was still a slight bend. But there wasn’t much else he could do as Mathilda crouched down between his legs. Her knees dug into the towels at his side, keeping them in place in the small grout grooves.

The Valkyrie straddled his chest, lining his dick up with her waiting pussy. Her hands pressed down on his chest as she lingered for a mere moment. Their eyes met- youthful and wide against mature and lidded.

Her hips pushed down, taking him deep into her core. The two moaned in unison as their bodies intertwined after so long deprived. It mattered not how they felt - this was a dance of flesh, not love.

Alm struggled to ask. “S-Shouldn’t we praise the Earth-mother?”

Mathilda shook her head “I’m not that devout.” she insisted before leaning in. Alm’s focus was on her jiggling breasts and he barely heard her say, “But I won’t stop you...as long as you let me work.”

With that last threat, she started bouncing on his cock. Her pussy squeezed and slid down his length, drenching it in her lingering juices. His glans swiftly passed the limit of his tongue reach and entered the deeper parts of her temple

Alm felt his mind go blank as she took him into her body. He couldn’t even muster the words, much less the memory of this conjoining rite. He’d have to apologize to Silque...whenever she wound up showing up

Mathilda sped up her pace, tightening her grip on his chest to compensate. She felt the water spray over her body, touching everything from her breasts down to her stomach as she went. Her knees pushed down on the towels, keeping her in place. It was risky to engage in such acts here...but the rewards were more than worth it.

The Valkyrie went on, fucking herself with wild abandon on her young superior. She alternated her actions between her pace, her depth, and even the angle that she would slam down on him. Every act, every pace - all within the first three texts of Mila’s teachings.

They both knew them quite well

He’d learned early on that while Sique had been happy to take control as a mentor, she was far, far more comfortable being fucked into a mindless, gibbering stupor. As Alm’s tutelage continued, she was delighted to spend less time leading and more time being led to the a sweaty, panting ruin.

Mathilda however was unrelenting in her dominion. It mattered not to her that the young man was her leader - she’d already given a version of him her attention once before after all. ‘Damn - I wish I’d spent more focused on him before...alas.’ she shook the thought away and continued her hip thrusts.

Her hair was sticking to her face now, binded by sweat and shower. She whipped her head back, feeling it smack against her shoulders and nape. In Alm’s eyes the enticing action was only amplified by the ribbons of water she sent flying. It was like a visage of heaven itself.

He dared to bring his hands up and cupped her thigh. Mathilda’s lidded gaze sharpened at the sudden contact, but she made no moves to rebuke him. In return for her mercy, he started to knead and roll her weary legs. His acts turned her wanton lustful pants into almost loving purrs of contentment.

‘Skilled with your hands...Clair will be pleased.’

She did away with the fleeting thoughts of her future step-sister and returned to the moment. His cock was throbbing in her snatch - a sure sign of an impending climax. She sped up her thrusts in preparation for such an anointment.

It wasn’t possible for Heroes to conceive here in Zenith. Such a mercy was the only thing that compelled her to permit him access to her precious womb. Mathilda assumed him docile enough to simply accept her reward.

She shouldn’t have underestimated him.

As she was rolling her hips in an effort to induce his release, he struck. His left hand flew up from her thigh to her vulnerable clitoris, throbbing over her breached walls.he pinched down with alarming force.

And so the Valkyrie flew.

Mathilda’s back arched so far she was looking straight up at the ceiling. Her hands flew back and seized his calves. Her breast were being anointed by the sizzling spray of the shower. Her vaginal vice constricted his cock as she thrashed above him as he joined her in release.

Only the first fews shots made it in before she fell off his dick. Mathilda collapsed back, smashing her ass against his legs. His seed shot up and hit her spasming body. Whatever wasn’t above her tits was swiftly washed away, while the rest lingered and built up with every spurt.

The two gasped and wheezed under the relentless shower, robbed of their senses by the mutual orgasm. Neither one was in a position to think, much less speak out.

Eventually, Alm found the strength to express himself. “T-That was...that was…” he trailed off.

Mathilda offered him a small smile before nodding. “Agreed. Think you can go again?”

Let your embrace warm the weary worker

He was taken aback by her inquiry and struggled to answer. “M-Maybe one more time,” he admitted.

Mathilda pondered this before pulling herself off him. She rose to her full height, letting the rivets of water pour over her bare, supple body. “When you’re ready then,” she told him.

True to her word, she simply stood there and let Alm collect himself. Her passive face merely looked down on him, waiting. He willed his body to recover swiftly, so as not to keep her waiting. She let him stand up and catch his breath as she set up their last round.

Mathilda reached down to the long towel, presenting her fine rear for his viewing pleasure. She wrung out some of the excess water before throwing one end over the neck of the showerhead. The Valkyrie wound the cloth around her wrist before grabbing and repeating the process with her other arm. Finally, she looked back and told him simply, “Stay on the towels and don’t go too fast.”

Despite his lethargy, his arousal was back in full force. Everything about her - her actions, her poise, her simple commands… it drew him in. he scrambled to join her at the back of the shower.

Mathilda spread out her legs in invitation, exposing her dripping, messy snatch. Alm stepped down on the towels like she ordered and shimmied into place behind her. His hands seized her hips and held her in place.

“What are you waiting for?” she growled. “Stick it in!”

He complied.

She felt him push into her waiting folds, making her mewl in delight. She tightened her grip on the towel as he pushed her forward. His hands gripped her hips as he started to thrust. Their slight height difference was mitigated by this position. His hands had to reach a little lower to properly hold her, but the results were the same.

Alm obeyed her wishes and went slow, for both their sakes. His pace was languid and deep, giving them both time to relish each thrust. She couldn’t even admonish him for going too slow, not when she could feel every delightful inch being fed to her sopping pussy before it was pulled back to the head.

Mathilda restrained herself from taking over. She wanted to see how well this Alm could handle himself. It was laborious to stay so slow, but at the same time - she did tell him to. ‘Last thing we need is to explain to the healers why we both slipped in the shower…’

Sadly for her, Alm wasn’t quite in the same mindset. Compulsion drove him to try to speed up, only for him to accidentally shoot forward too far and almost send them both toppling over. He managed to catch himself thanks to his quick thinking, and her own reflexive strength. Mathilda sighed in relief after his close call. “S-Slow down.” she urged him.

After that, he gladly obeyed and went back to the slow, methodical pace that served them both. His head tilted down to keep the spray out of his eyes, giving him the delightful sight of her rump rippling with every thrust. Time passed over them, marked only by the gradual chill in the water as the heating runes started to die out.

After the last attempt, Alm decided to change his focus and traded speed for intimacy. His hands wrapped around her heaving breasts. He buried his face in her damp hair, pressing his nose against her nape. His body compressed down on her back, pushing her slightly forward closer to the wall.

Mathilda bit back her growl. She could appreciate his efforts, but he was straddling the line. As skewed and stretched as her boundaries were, she still held them fast - only Clive was allowed to kiss her lips. The most that she would dare to offer was her mouth and throat, and even that came with the lingering threat of what she could do when stuffed full of dick.

But she didn’t...she really couldn’t

He might not be able to best her, but his little tricks were able to entice her in ways that she’d rarely experienced before...and that was exhilarating enough. So as long as he didn't dare to touch her lips, she’d humor him and reap the rewards.

Alm’s coarse fingers rubbed over her bosom, his calloused fingertips almost scraped against her skin. His touch was far from refined, but it hardly made a difference to her. It only added to the pleasurable throbbing in her core.

His left hand detached from her breast and dipped low, running over her well-hewn abs. He felt the muscles beneath - the culmination of gods only know how many days training. It was little wonder where her epithet came from. Beauty and strength - a true Valkyrie incarnate.

Mathilda panted, feeling her impending climax. Her long-deprived body was on fire, waiting for the very last spark to burn her alive. Just one last touch, one last caress, would send her back to the pure white ether of sexual release.

As Alm’s finger brushed over her clit, she took flight once more.

“HAAAAAAAAAH!”

Mathilda let go of her towel, sending them both forward. Alm pulled her back, trying to keep her from slamming face-first into the wall. His results had her slide down on her breasts, with each grout tweaking her already-sensitive nipples. Each flick made her pussy clamp up even more until she had his dick trapped in a vice - ready to blow.

They both sunk to their knees on the floor. The sudden chill as his balls were pressed up was the last straw, and he joined her in release. Rope after rope of cum sloshed into her womb, mixing with his earlier load.

His body acted before he could even try to think - a fatal mistake in the making. It was only a brief brush against her lips, but it sent both crashing back to reality. Their eyes grew wide at what he’d done.

The water turned cold.

“Lady Mathilda, please forgive my trespass.”

She didn’t answer him right away, too focused on wrapping her towel around her drying body. Alm was already clad in her bathrobe - a gracious, fleeting gift before his departure. He couldn’t see her face, only her now-covered back as she wrung out her hair. So he just stayed down on his knee, begging for her forgiveness.

At last she turned to face him...with a soft smile. “It's fine - a mere accident, little more. Correct?”

Alm readily agreed, not wanting to risk rousing her ire. He accepted her hand to help him back to his feet, wincing at her subdued yet strong grip. He pulled out of her hold as soon as he was on his feet and made for the door. But her next words threw him for a loop.

“Besides, You still need some practice.”

He froze near the door, still trying to catch up to what she was saying. Mathilda bruised herself wrapping her hair up with a towel, even as she continued. “Perhaps if you continue to improve your swordplay, we can indulge from time to time.”

His weary mind tried to process her invitation. “Would that include...ah.”

Alm’s question died on his lips. She couldn’t tell if he was referring to what she’d offhandedly mentioned in the shower, or the possible clemency of his trespass. Neither one really compelled her to immediately rebuke him, but she opted to play coy nonetheless.

“Who can say? Maybe if you manage to actually best me...I’ll consider it.”


Chapter Text


I have a discord now! Come on over to The Steakhouse and join us. See you there :)


“Hey-hey, Buckles.”

Mia winced at that particular nickname. Only one person actually called her that, and she wasn’t really keen to talk to him. She swallowed her groan and turned to face him. “Gaius...what do you want?”

The infamous thief grinned. He pulled out two wrapped up lollipops and offered the witchy warrior one. “It’s not what I want - it’s what I know.”

Mia took the offered sweet and plopped it in her mouth. She knew that when a Gaius offers you candy, it's in your better interest to accept it. ‘This should be good…’ she mused.

Gaius rolled his own sucker in his mouth, relishing the sweet taste for a bit. Mia waited, arms crossed and eyes hidden by her hat brim. The thief finally pulled out his candy and began.

“I’ve gotten word from a little birdie about a sweet secret - a big ol’ cake that’s just ripe for the taking.”

The witch clicked her teeth and moved her lolipop to the side. “Wouldn’t expect that from you - thought you were more into candy.”

Gaius shrugged. “Candy, cake - isn’t it the same thing in the end?”

Mia tilted her head up. “Uh...no, not really.”

The thief rolled his treat between his fingers, displeasure clear on his face. “Oh come on, Buckles. It's not about how it's made, it's about how its eaten,” he insisted.

Mia tried to process his words. “Is there...is there another way to eat candy?”

Gaius shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. Cake, cookies, chocolates, suckers - they’re all the same sweet sugary morsels, waiting to go down your gullet.”

Mia was unconvinced, and simply sucked her lollipop in silence. Gaius tried to bring the conversation back around to his proposal. “So you’re not interested?”

She finally pulled the sucker out of her lips and and spun it around in the air. “Welllllll I didn’t say that…but why me? Shouldn’t you be get it on your own?”

Gaius plopped his lollipop back in his pursued mouth. “I have a particular set of skills, true...but I can’t do this job alone,” he admitted.

Mia frowned. “So what about Nowi?”

“I uh...let's just say there’s a reason I’m not going to her… Anyway, you in? Think of it like training.”

She perked up at the offer of training, but tried to keep a calculated face. ‘Focus Mia - play it cool. “I don’t know...what’s in it for me?”

Gaius was taken aback by her blunt question. “Uhh, I’ve got some money-”

Mia butted in. “I want a cut - sixty percent.”

He recoiled before shaking his head. “thirty.”

“sixty,” she insisted.

“forty”

“sixty”

“...twenty five?”

Mia huffed. “You’re going down now.”

Gaius bit down and cracked his lollipop. “Forty five...and “’ll spar with you.”

“Deal!” she slapped his palm. He winced but accepted her handshake. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Up there?!”

Mia gawked at what she was seeing, up in the night sky, still clutching her broom. The two were out on the furthest fringes of Askr - beyond where the outlying settlements of the kingdom. She was seriously questioning Gaius’ supposed lead...at least until the night sky cleared.

Gaius simply nodded, equally enraptured by the castle in the sky. His empty bag was dragging against the ground. ‘Shit...this might be trickier than I thought.’ he reluctantly admitted.

Mia demanded answers. “What even is that? Why is it out here? and why the heck are we going all the way up there?!”

Gaius hoisted his bag before answering. “In order - some kinda old castle, I don’t know, and because the cake is up there.”

Mia kept staring up at the hovering castle and half heartedly nodded. Realization hit her and she snapped down to face him. “So this is why you needed me?”

Gaius shrugged. “I wanted company...and yes.”

She sighed at his blunt admission. ‘At least i’m getting a spar out of this…’ she mused as she dropped her magic broom and mounted it. “Fine, fine...just get on.”

Gaius spared one last glance at their destination before he complied. He settled behind her and squeezed her waist.

Mia yelped before snapping, “Hey! Not so tight!”

“Good. now hold on.”

“Okay just take it Sl-oOOOOOOH SHIIII-”

“Charming.”

Mia glowered at the indisposed thief, arms crossed and broom at her side. She watched as he lost his lunch over the side of the ruin. ‘Here’s hoping your vomit doesn’t wind up killing someone, jerk.’

Gaius finished and gingerly wiped his mouth. He got back to his feet and turned to face her. Besides looking a little pale, he seemed alright now. “That was… a little too fast.”

She scoffed at his meager plight. “I’ll go slower next time then, promise.”

Gaius ignored her scorn and recollected his bag. “Good to hear - let's get going.”

He passed her and disappeared into the treeline. Mia sighed and followed.

Fwoosh!

Mia brought the jack-o-lantern in front of her, illuminating their path. The chill made her shiver, but she focused on the small nub of heat that her broom’s ornament brought her. “So what is this place, anyway?”

Gaius peered around, looking for anything peculiar. “Not sure - something about being an ancient castle in Askr. couldn’t find much more than a lick of it.” he admitted as the kept walking.

Mia let her broom hover beside her as she rubbed her shoulders. “A-A-And what makes you think there’s really a cake, anyway?”

Gaius stopped in front of her, almost making her crash. He turned back to face her. His head was shadowed by his bangs.

“I trust my sources - they wouldn’t lie to me...”

That was all he said before he stormed forward. Mia blinked at the sudden change in mood before hastening back to him. She caught up as he was standing in front of a weathered brick wall. “Why do they have the cake up here, anyway?”

Gaius was already scaling up the wall as he called back, “Probably to keep people from getting their grubby mitts on it.”

Mia sighed at his admission. “So us….Alrighty then.”

Gaius peeked over the top.. “And would you look at that…” he chuckled. Mia looked around the side and gawked.

There, in the middle of the clearing, was a grand looking cake sitting right next to a glistening fountain. Wider than Gaius and up to Mia’s thighs. Two stacks high with a rich layer of pink and white frosting. A cluster of candles and large frosting swirls with a large ‘2’ in blue frosting laid across the very top.

Mia struggled for words. “That’s...that’s a big cake.”

Crack! Snap!

The two froze at the sounds of hooves on twigs. Gaius ducked his head and whispered, “Hide!”

Mia dived around the corner and stilled her wildly beating heart. She wasn’t nervous - on the contrary, she was quite excited to get some action in. She tried to hide the beaming smile on her face as she whispered, “What is that, Emblans?!”

Gaius said nothing, but glanced over the edge again. He took one look at at the familiar looking man before turning back to her and reporting.

“Should’ve guessed - looks like we’ve got some guards to deal with.”

Mia’s smile beamed in the dark. “Emblans?” she asked, hopeful.

“Nah, Heroes.”

‘Even better!’ Mia happily clutched her wand tighter in anticipation. A part of her regretted not bringing a sword, but she could still fight easily enough. “Who?”

Gaius scanned the clearing as the rest rode into view. “Looks like...Wrinkles, Stiff, Pokerface-”

She cut him off with a irritated growl. “In english!”

“Uhh...Jagen, Gunther, Seth...oh crap!”

Gaius dove back down next to Mia, making her yelp in shock. “What?!”

“...Frederick’s out there.”

‘Damnit! I could’ve at least wiped those two if I had my sword!’ Mia lamented. “Okay, so four calvarymen?”

Gaius shook his head. “No - three claverymen and Frederick.”

“Isn’t Frederick a clavarymen already?” Mia blinked in confusion. Gaius slowly nodded- too slow for her liking. “Whatever - what’s the plan?”

“I’m not going out there.”

She gawked at his blunt admission. “Seriously?! After we flew all the way up here?!”

Gaius turned to face her, letting her see the thin layer of sweat off his brow. “Y-You don’t get it. Frederick is...he’s a monster.”

“I could take him,” Mia countered. She brushed past the thief and was ready to step around the wall. But Gaius grabbed the end of her hat.

“Thaaaaat’s not what I mean,” he explained as he pulled her back. Mia adjusted her hat with a pout and shot him a warning glare, prompting him to elaborate. “Okay so picture this - if those three caught us, we’d get what - clapped in irons and deprived dinner?”

“Wait, they’d do that?!” Mia blurted out.

Gaius quickly clamped down on her big mouth and glanced around in a panic. She resisted the urge to bite down on his palm...reluctantly.

“But if Frederick catches us...catches me ...it’ll be worse.”

Mia cocked her head to the side. “Mutt’s murse?”

Gaius took his hand away, letting her repeat her question. “What’s worse?”

“Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour.”

“I...I don’t know what that is, but we’re not going back empty handed now.”

Mia pulled out her wand and brandished it like a sword. The orange spiraled tip wasn’t nearly as threatening as tempered steel, but the simple action put her more at ease. More in control.

She helped Gaius to his feet and craned up to look him square in the eye.. “Look, you’re...freaking out, that’s fine. But trust me - I’ve got a plan…”

“This is your plan?!”

“Yes it is! Now keep running!”

The two struggled to carry the massive platter and their purloined pastry. Behind them, the four venerable guards were galloping at a mad pace, brandishing deadly looking spears and axes. The cake itself was the most serene and undisturbed part thanks to a few magic runes keeping it chilled and intact even as the two would-be thieves ran like bats outta Hel.

In her defense, it had been going pretty smoothly at first. Mia had distracted the guards before quickly flying over to assist Gaius in stealing away the goods. Neither one had expected it to weigh so much, or for one of the shrewd knights to discover their deception so fast. They’d earned a small head’s start...but time was running out.

Mia and Gaius ducked through the trees, relying on the foliage to keep their horse-bound foes from catching them too fast. It was working for now, but they were about to run out of options...and space to run.

“Whoa!”

The two came to a stop right on the edge of the ruin, staring straight down at the unforgiving ground below. Mia turned to Gaius, her eyes dancing with exhilaration.

Gaius took the platter, struggling to hold the massive dish. Mia withdrew her broom and tossed it down before mounting it.

“Get on!”

Gaius backed onto the broom, still holding the cake. As soon as she felt his weight on her broom, Mia kicked off the flying keep. She angled straight down, forcing his back against hers to stay secure. The sounds of bayng horses and angry knights melted into night.

Mia flew low and slow, close to the ground. She glanced back at the shrinking skyborne ruin as they fled across the land. She subconsciously pushed Gaius’s shoulders back. Their feet traced over the swaying grass.

“Nice work, Buckles.”

Gaius’ compliment came out of nowhere. Mia beamed and looked back at him to see he was facing her with a wry grin. “Thanks! It was a lot more fun than I expected,” she declared.

“Heh, it was...a little too much for my liking,” He admitted. The two looked back at their prize in his hands. “But hey - can’t knock the results.”

“...Should we have done that?”

Gaius’ smile fell at her question. Her usually chipper voice sounded more...forlorn. He shook away his own misgivings and warned her, “The getaway isn’t the time to develop a conscious. Besides, it’ll be easy enough to whip something else up...probably,”

“Yeah bu-” Mia was cut off by her stomach. Gaius’ eyebrow raised as he listened to the howl coming out of the witch’s gut.

“...I’m hungry,” she meekly said.

He chuckled. “Same here - what do you say we find a place to hole up for the night?”

The two found a fine looking estate midway between the ruin and Folkhalla. It was still intact, but had been evacuated during the fears of Muspell’s invasion. Gaius made quick work of the locks and let himself in, with Mia in tow.

Their first destination was the kitchen, looking for anything to eat. Gaius looked through the cabinets while Mia fished out some gold to leave behind. ‘Buckles, whatever you want to leave them I can guarantee they’ve lost twice as much in their couch.’

“Must not have been in a hurry- nothing in the pantry,” he sighed. Not a single scrap was left for them. He turned to his partner in crime. “Anything in the icebox?”

Mia said nothing as she fished through the empty bottles. Her shapely rear bounced and swayed. Her garters dug into the back of her thighs. Gaius was far from a refined eater, but even he could appreciate a good pair of thighs She finally looked up, holding a closed flagon. “There’s some milk.”

“Is it still good?” he asked.

She popped open the lid and briefly sniffed the contents.

“...No. No it is not.”

Gaius watched her place it back in the icebox. They didn’t really have any more options, and that just left...

“So what are we gonna do with this cake?” Mia asked, propped up on her elbows. Her legs crossed together under the table.

Gaius turned to her with an incredulous look on his face. He tried to avoid the sight of her stockings and focused on her bored-looking eyes. “Isn’t it obvious - we eat it.”

“All of it?”

“If you don’t think you can take your share…” he teased her.

Mia slapped her hands on the table and stood up. “Oh you’re on!” she yelled as she ran back to grab some utensils. She quickly returned with two plates, forks, and a knife.

Surprisingly, Gaius had stayed in place and waited for her. “What, no taste test?”

“Nah - only fair, right?” He shrugged. The thief let her make the first cut, merely watching as she sectioned off a small slice for herself...well small by his definition. He cut his own fraction out as she brought a piece up to her lips. One taste brought her to an almost orgasmic glee.

“Ooooh, dish ish shho guud!”

She started scarfing it down, much to Gaius’ bemusement. He forked off a piece and brought it to his own mouth. The cool pastry practically melted on his palate. He swallowed before singing his own praises. “Damn...whoever baked this thing deserves a raise!”

“Mrite?!”

The two quickly descended into a debaucherous feast. Slice after slice piled on their plates and into their greedy mouths. The treat thieves revealed in their ill-gotten gains for what could’ve been hours.

Mia struggled down another bite. It went down just as smoothly as before, yet there was something peculiar about the cake. Instead of feeling the cool touch of the chilly pastry, she was feeling...warmer. Hot even. Her whole body felt like it was laying out in a blistering sun...and it was getting hotter by the second.

Clink!

Her discarded fork clattered on the plate. Mia pushed away from the table and rubbed her bare, taut stomach. She smacked her suddenly dry lips. “I feel funny…”

Gaius wasn’t in better shape, even if he’d eaten a few portions less than her. He wiped away the sweat on his brow and struggled to ask, “Whatsa matter, B-Buckles? Eat too fast?”

Mia squirmed and pulled on her jabot. His eyes lingered on the flush tinge of her neck. “I feel so...so hot,” she whined.

He eyed her with concern as she thrashed on her seat. He glanced at the half-eaten cake and wondered if there was foul play. ‘Was there something in the cake?’

RRRRIP!

“What the hell?!”

Mia ripped open her vest, exposing her festive orange bra. Gaius gawked at the cheerful- looking jack-o-lantern faces on her cups before she pulled the garment clean off. Her perky, aroused breasts jiggled on brazen display.

“Damn,” he whistled.

She ignored him and focused on her own needs. Her hands squeezed her boobs, trying to sate the lustful fire quelling within. She leaned back in her rickety chair and screamed. “Gods it's so HOT!”

Gaius was barely keeping it together. He could feel his arousal pressed against his pants, sucking all the blood out of his legs. ‘This...this ain’t good. Got to get away from her before...something, happens.’

He tried to slide out of his chair, wincing as the knot in his trousers hit the bottom of the table. Mia had stretched out her legs and exposed her matching orange panties, damp with her arousal. One of her hands had dived down and was rubbing her fingers inside her underwear. Her face was flush with sweat and frustrated tears.

Gaius watched her, despite his best judgements. He knew that every second he lingered led a greater risk of what could happen. As he watched her grapple with her own shapely body, he contemplated staying…

...

‘...Nope.’

“You!”

‘Welp’

She snarled at him through lidded eyes. The usual shine was clouded over with an intense, lustful smolder. Her hands kept going, even as she glared holes in the thief. Gaius should’ve just run.

He didn’t.

Mia stumbled off her chair, still molesting herself. She stalked over to him like an erotic zombie. Her eyes were hidden by the wide brim of her cap. “P-pants...off...NOW.”

Gaius really should’ve just run.

Before he knew it, she had him pinned to the wall and was shoving her tongue down his throat. He felt the heat wafting off her slick skin, threatening to consume him. He tasted the damnable cake on her lips, in all its seductively sweet glory. It felt like he was kissing fire...and he wanted to be burned.

His last chance was the moment before.

Gaius’ arms wrapped around her and pulled her deeper into their kiss. She struggled up to her toe-tips to reach him. Hiis hand dipped down until he was copping her ass for support. His own tongue came to bear and fought back against her invasion.

She grabbed fistful’s of his harness and slammed him into the wall. The nearby china cabinet rattled threateningly, but neither one was in the right mind to heed it.

Mia grinded against his thigh, humping him like the bitch in heat she’d become. Her tongue clashed against his. Her teeth grazed his cheek as she tried to nip his lips. Her crafty fingers trailed down to the insufferable belt around his waist.

Mphh! Mphh ….MWRAAAA!”

Riiiip!

His belt was torn apart between her hands and clattered to their feet. His trousers fell to his ankles, followed by the tacky underwear. Mia didn’t have the mind to make a dig at the quaint little bees on his smallclothes. Instead, she rubbed her thigh against his girth. Gaius hissed at her touch.

She dropped to her knees and eyed his dick. Slim yet long, and practically throbbing to the touch. Her mouth watered as she leaned in to bask in the musky odors. She leaned into taste it….and found her ambrosia.

Gaius groaned under her touch. He reached back and groped the brickwork for support.the feeling of her wet lips left him hot in her wake. He could’ve realized that she still had pieces of the damnable cake in her mouth...if he was in any state to care.

He endured the way her teeth would rub over his shaft as she glided down his dick. her hands squeezed and juggled his swaying balls. She had no finesse or grace in her acts. It was all so raw, so primal and unfettered.

Mia reared up and popped his cock in her mouth. She suckled his salty stick, running her tongue along the shaft. Her hat pushed into his stomach as she struggled to take more in her mouth. She didn’t dwell on her first blowjob - how sloppy and slutty she was acting to a man that she only barely knew. There wasn’t a force on Zenith that could pull her away now.

Shlick shlick shlick

A peculiar sound drew his attention. Gaius now noticed the absence of her hand on his balls. He struggled through the lustful haze and looked down. He couldn’t see below her wide brimmed hat, but he had a pretty good idea of what she was doing now.

Mia choked and gagged on the thief’s dick. Her fingers were a blur, pumping in and out of her hot twat. Her thumb flicked her clit in an attempt to rile her further.

It was working, but also made her just feel more and more frustrated. Her fingers weren’t cutting it - she wanted something else in there. She wanted something hard in there. Something hot stuffed in her boiling cauldron. She wanted more.

She wanted him.

“Pah!”

Mia spat out his dick. She quickly scrambled to her feet before he could react. Her hot snatch lined up with his slick, throbbing cock. She reared up to his ear and hotly whispered, ‘Fuck me.’

Even without the aphrodisiac, Gaius would be remiss to ignore that plea. The thief shuffled his cock into place against her waiting folds. His hands reached for her hips to hold her in place. Mia bit her lip in anticipation

He pushed into her, sending an eruptive shock through her lithe body. Her walls squeezed him as he struggled to go deeper. The small fraction of her mind not chained in lust was wracked to its foundations.

‘I..I came from just him entering me...’

His body weathered through her premature climax and started to vigorously thrust. Her leg flew up and wrapped around his back for support. Otherwise she just hung in his grip, limp and at the mercy of his hips.

Mia’s juices seeped out of her stuffed snatch, further dislodged by Gaius’ dick. Their hips smashed together, creating small splashes of sweat and sinful slop. “Hah, Hah - M-more…” she slurred.

The odd angle they were joined at presented a constant issue to the two. Mia’s grip on Gaius was pulling him down, with only her single shaky leg to keep them from collapsing. Every time he instinctively stepped forward, her foot loosely followed. The two fuck-walked forward at an uneven pace until they hit a block. literally.

Her ass smacked against the edge of the table and toppled them both. Her naked back smashed into the devastated devious dessert. The two didn’t react to either the sudden chill around them or the mushy mess smearing over their bodies.

Gaius sped up his thrusts. Thanks to the change in position he had far greater leverage over her and he used it with all the force that his sex-craving body could muster. The worn wooden table held firm under their weight.

Mia’s legs locked around his waist- tight enough to keep him from pulling out completely, but loose enough to let him thrust. His hands smacked down next to her, giving him further leverage to really lay into her.

“Hah...Hah...Hah...Oh G-AAAAWDS!”

Mia bucked her hips as she rode out her climax. Her head went prone, sticking her outstretched tongue in the ruins of the cake. Her body was purely at his mercy. His, and the mercy of the decadent desire that had enslaved them both.

Gaius rolled them over and quickly seized her hips again. Mia reacted by rocking down, letting gravity drag her loins down his girth. His hands took over the act of bringing her back up. She was still too addled to join the sinful party.

The thief rutted her without prompting. Her supple body swayed in his grip. The sticky wet mess between their loins dripped down onto the platter. He kept slamming into her until his balls finally erupted.

Mia slumped forward onto his chest, her face frozen in orgasmic bliss. He shot deep into her ravenous womb, filling it with the sticky, creamy goodness that she craved. His eyes squeezed shut as his world exploded into stars

‘…’

‘I…’

‘I…’



‘I...Wait - where am...oh’

The two were now on their sides, sucking down heavy gulps of air. He felt her tight walls coaxing his dick. The reality of what they’d done came crashing back down on him.

‘...Oh cripes.

Gaius shook off the heady haze and tried to focus on something besides sex. He fought down the hunger in his stomach and his loins and tried to honestly think. The thief reached behind himself for support.

Squish

He looked back to see his fingers buried in the cake. He fought his impulse to lick his fingers clean, especially after what’d just happened. ‘Ugh...fuck me, that thing’s shifty.’

He was so preoccupied that when something seized his shoulders, he was caught totally unaware. The hell?’

He reluctantly turned around and faced...hell.

Hell, in the form of a disheveled, cake-coated witch. Her eyes were covered in an unsettling haze. Even in his recovering state, he could recognize the craving lurking beneath the surface. The hunger.

“Want...more...need... more .”

‘Cripes…’

Gaius came too with a groan.

His eyes were instantly stabbed by the harsh light of day, making him flinch. His chest was pushed down, making it harder to breathe. He struggled to look up and see why, only for the reveal to make last night come crashing back on him. ‘Welp, didn’t expect to see this side of you, Buckles.’

The festive Mia was passed out on top of him, splayed out and still firmly impaled by his mid-mast cock. Her skin was covered in frosting and pastry, from her forehead all the way down to her ass and thighs. He felt her subconsciously rocking on his groin, as if her dreams were still of being vigorously plundered by the master thief.

The lascivious sight of such an alluring woman should’ve been praised by nearly any man, least of all one with a penchant for the fairer flesh. But to Gaus, he couldn’t see her for her lovely, shapely body...but rather the hours upon hours of torment and frustration that she’d wrought upon him. Or rather, that had been wrought upon t hem by the deceptive dessert.

Gaius glared at his frosting-tipped fingers with disgust. Rather than lick them clean like he normally would, he shook it away.

‘I’m never eating cake again…’

Anna processed this new information about the mysterious Aether Keep that they’d found. The early morning light peeked through her chamber windows, casting it in brilliant light. She pulled the ties of her bathrobe tighter together before responding, “So there was someone up there?”

Her inquiry was addressed to the other occupant of the room, perched on on of the chairs. The snowy white head bobbed. “I Sawwww it with my owwwwn eyessss, commander.”

Anna groaned and wiped away the lethargy from her eyes. She wasn’t really a morning person by default, so having a missive barging in so early wasn’t doing her wonders. ‘Thank the gods that Alfonse is out, otherwise we’d be done for,’ she mused. “Okay then Feh - I’ll look into this. Please return to your duties,”

“Wwwwilll do! Feeeeeeeehhhhhh”

Anna waited for Feh to fly out the window before she turned back to the incident report left on her desk. She wiped away the excess feathers and cleared a space for her morning tea. Her brow furrowed until it matched her usual face as the Commander of the Order of Heroes.

“Something’s not adding up here, but what?”