They found themselves in an ambush. The band of the hawk, still worn from their previous battle was on the way back to camp, their wounded barely treated. Just out of the deepest part of the forest, their way was cut by another band of enemy mercenaries.
Their shining leader sat ever proud at the top of the group and swiftly deflected the arrows being shot at him. Before he could yell out his commands they were charged at. Leather-clad swordsman running towards them, the archer in the underbrush, hiding just out of sight. Casca and her men took onto defending the wounded from the foot soldiers, beating them rather quickly with only minor injuries occurring.
Griffith and the lady swordsman fought side by side, neither noticing Guts going off on his own, headed straight to the hedges out of which silver sparkled threateningly, the wood of the bows aching under the stretch. He dodged five, six of the projectiles easily with the broad blade of his Dragonslayer sword. His smug grin turned sinister, he took the chance and sliced straight through the bushes, the blood of his enemies dying the lively green of the leaves a dark crimson.
One slip up. He missed just one head. The mercenary rammed the dull tip of his arrow into Guts’ side, right below his armpit where the flesh is soft.
A loud grunt escaped Guts’ throat and he felt more disgusted at the weakness he showed than the actual pain piercing into the tissue between his rips. He flipped down his artificial hand, letting his arm gun pop forward. His attacker was readying another arrow to launch but the black swordsman didn’t give him a chance, blowing his face to shreds at point zero range. He huffed, the pain in his right side increasing with every movement.
Dizziness built behind his forehead, an uncomfortable buzzing consuming his limbs. With a loud ‘clank’ his sword hit the soft forest ground. It was hard to focus. His vision blurred, stars filling it instead. ‘Damn, were those things poisoned?’ His mind allowed him no further exploration of the thought. A slender, brown silhouette approached him, she called out to him. “Guts? Guts?” A warm hand on his shoulders. “Are you alright?” Sweet melodies to his ears but he couldn’t quite answer. The figure propped him up as best as she could from the left, his right side feeling awfully numb.
He would himself behind a broad oak, propped up against the harsh bark, legs still trying to betray him. Looking down he saw a mop of dark brown hair tending to his wound, the arrow discarded somewhere behind her. “Casca?” His voice felt weirdly wavey.
“You moron! Just charging at the archer like that! What if the wound gets infected or there’s splitter stuck? You idiot!” Her eyebrows were furrowed in annoyance yet her hands kept steady and careful. The smell of fresh sweat and pines, cold comfort and a heated battle clung to her. It was the most alluring smell he had ever smelled. His chin brushed her hair, nose pressed to the top of her head. He took a deep breath, inhaling and trying to memorize it. Casca flinched at the sudden contact and instinctively punched him in the side.
“G-guts! I’m sorry!” Concern instantly painted her features as he blew out a sharp breath. Guts wheezed and let his head fall back. “Don’t sweat it, Cas.” He huffed, the side of the impact tingling rather than hurting. “Are you sure?” Her eyes bore into his, watching as sweat formed on his forehead, little pearls of nervousness dripping down his temples. Her hand reached up to feel his temperature but it was stopped as he reached for it, taking a tight hold on it. Guts’ revulsion towards human touch had turned into the absolute opposite.
He felt a burning need to touch his comrade. “Guts…?” Casca gently tried to free her hand. “You’re acting weird, Guts.” Her voice was shaking with uncertainty. “I can’t explain it.” His eyes half-lidded, pupils blown, he held her gaze. She blushed, still trying to slip out of his iron grip. “You’re scaring me, Guts. Please let go. The others-“ Her stream of words was stopped abruptly, gentle waves crashing into her lips instead. Guts had closed the distance between them, his metal arm snaked around her waist, pushing her flush against him.
Casca’s heart thumbed out of control, mirroring Guts’ racing blood. He did not grand her a chance to retreat, rough lips attacking hers relentlessly. Before she knew her back was pressed into the oak, her comrade nibbling at her neck, leaving bites and marks in his wake. She could have screamed and trashed but it would have been futile. The man above her was in control. She was concerned about his state, not opposed to the current events. She minded his hands on her behind even less as they squeezed at her firm flesh.
Through the thick fabric of his leather pants she could feel his want, hot and pulsing, ready for her. His knee pushed her thighs apart, gently rubbing at her privates through her armor pants. The friction made her mewl in delight though it wasn’t nearly enough to bless her with release.
Guts’ skilled fingers slipped from her buttocks to the front of her lower body, snaking into her trousers, down, further. There it was. A sharp gasp passed her lips, her head pressing into his hard chest, trying to muffle her lewd sounds. His fingers circled her clit in slow motion, teasing her further. “Better keep it down, Cas.” Guts whispered lowly above her, voice vibrating from her ears straight to her loins.
He kept at it for some minutes, speeding up and slowing down, variating his pressure. He removed his fingers all to soon, his lips capturing hers in an intense French-kiss before commanding her to turn around. Casca propped herself up against the tree, arms shielding her face from the hungry look in Guts’ eyes. The black swordsmen licked his lips then unbuckled and pushed down his comrade’s pants to her knees, her plump ass up in the air. “Don’t stare, please.” Casca requested shyly, cheeks burning up at the exposure.
A hard heat brushed against her rear, she almost yelped at the sudden touch. He readjusted, the length of his cock now rubbing against her wet cunt. Casca closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. He was massive, she could tell. “Please, be gentle!”
“Ill try.” There was a grin in his voice. His tip slowly pushed into her, stretching her already. Her thighs trembled once he was settled snuggly into her, his broad hands stroking over the small of her back. “You good, Cas?” She nodded slightly, humming her approval. “Alright, I’ll start moving now.” His member pulled out tantalizingly slow, her walls contracting around him still. He pushed back in just as slowly, silent cries rippling through her chest.
They build a steady rhythm, Casca’s throat betrayed her a bit more with each thrust, the tension just too high. Warmth dripped onto her back as Guts leaned over her, his flesh arm holding onto the tree while his metal hand gripped her wide hips tightly. His wound had started bleeding again but he paid it no mind, pain mixing with pleasure, blood mixing with sweat. A rustling in the nearby bushes made him halt, his awareness suddenly raised.
“Guts? Casca?” Their leaders voice echoed into their direction. “Are you alright?” Genuine concern laced his words. Casca looked up from between her arms, eyes wide in shock. “G-Griffith! We’re fine! I’m t-treating Guts' wounds!” She stuttered, cursing herself for sounding like such an idiot. “Do you need help?” The steps came closer and Casca already planned out her suicide if her icon found them like this, banging like dogs in heat. Guts did however not seem to share her concern as he picked up his pace again. A surprised moan betrayed her. “Casca?” Her stomach twisted.
“We’re fine. Casca also got hurt it seems. We’ll be fine. Get back to the camp with the others, we’ll catch up to you soon.”
It was a miracle how he managed to sound as cool as ever, balls deep in her melting cunt. “If you say so. But don’t stay too far behind. I doubt this was their last ambush.” The steps disappeared into the distance, the faraway voices of the band of the hawk haunting the now empty forest. “You did well, Cas. Let me reward you.” Casca wanted to snap at him, scream for bringing them into such a risky situation but she couldn’t. The brunette could only moan and curse quietly. His fingers had found her clit again, circling it mercilessly in time with his pounding. She felt the pressure coiling up inside her, rising to her tiptoes, allowing his cock to hit even deeper. “G-guts! I’m so close! Please!” Her prayers were answered and he sped up, rocking into her, skin on skin, wet slapping noises filling her ears.
His thrusts became erratic, falling out of rhythm as he started spilling into her, her walls spasming around him, milking him. She shuttered and held onto the oak for dear life, her legs giving away. Guts managed to catch her just in time, pulling her back against him. His breath was hot, his nose buried into her hair again. He inhaled deeply, emotional relief following his sexual one. Guts held her close, closer than he would ever have anyone else. It wasn’t so bad with her.