The Chronicles of Valen Ch. 12
“Disclaimer: Valen, Nathyrra, The Seer, and several of the other characters are the property of Bioware. If you’ve played the game, you’ll recognize them. The rest is the invention of my twisted little imagination, including Morrighu Badb and the goddess she serves.”
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Morrighu leads the way, as is her custom, out of the temple. She is looking for more driders, but they do not see any. Following the directions from the guard at the library, they make their way around to the wizard’s tower.
Outside the tower, they are greeted by no other than the wizard himself,
“Hello, there. We don’t get too many visitors over here by the tower. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Petyr Trenkhold, the renowned archmage. Or should I say former archmage.”
Morrighu looks at him curiously, “Former archmage? What do you mean by that?”
The mage looks at her oddly, “I used to be obsessed with the power of magic. I burned with the desire to master the arcane arts, nothing else mattered to me. I abandoned my fellow Avariel and locked myself away in this tower. But when our town was moved from the Lost Peaks into these underground caverns - something I had nothing to do with, I assure you - I had a revelation. What use is the most powerful spell if you are locked away for years to perfect it? I’d rather be a simple man with friends and a life than a powerful wizard in self-imposed exile. Unfortunately, my apprentice didn’t see things my way. He decided to devote himself to the life I left behind, and he locked himself away in the tower.”
Nathyrra interjects, “How can you just throw away your entire life’s work?”
He shrugs, “I suppose I was just ready for a change. Now I get fresh air, I get to meet people, and I’m not locked away with all my potions and tomes and scrolls.” Petyr gets a concerned expression on his face, “It does seem rather strange, though. I spent years devoted to my research. But now… it just doesn’t seem that important for some reason.”
Morrighu rolls her eyes, “Can I ask you some questions?”
The mage chuckles at her impatience, “Yes, of course. I may have turned my back on the arcane arts, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything I learned during my studies.”
Morrighu probes, “I’m looking for some shards of glass or of a mirror. Do you happen to have any?”
The mage sighs, “The only shard I know about is the one my apprentice had inside the tower. I wasn’t really interested in any others, seeing as how I’ve given up on magic. Sorry.”
Valen asks, “Can you tell us anything about the tower?”
The mage nods, “I once dwelt within this very tower, before I realized the errors of my ways and abandoned all my magical research. And I can tell you from personal experience it is a very dangerous place. Like any wizard’s home, my tower is filled with a variety of nefarious traps and deadly monsters; fairly standard stuff. But there is one thing that makes my tower somewhat unusual. I cast powerful enchantments throughout the tower that can twist magic itself, making it react in strange ways. Be warned, my friend: spells cast inside the tower could have very unexpected results. And of course my apprentice is still in there somewhere, seeking out the secrets that are best left undiscovered. He has chosen to continue the work that I left behind.”
The ex-wizard sighs, “He used to be such a good boy - obedient, respectful of others. I must confess I never appreciated him for what he was. But now he’s changed. When I gave up the magician’s life, he embraced it. Strange lights and colored smoke pour out of the tower from time to time, so I know he’s trying bizarre and dangerous experiments. I can’t understand what happened to him. He just became obsessed with magic. Maybe it has something to do with that broken piece of the magic mirror I gave him.”
Morrighu looks at him, “Do you think your apprentice still has the shard?”
He nods, “He should. He has not been out of the tower since then.”
The trio back away from the wizard so that they can confer amongst themselves.
Morrighu looks at Nathyrra, “Do you want to wait here? Your magic may not be very useful and according to Petyr, might even be dangerous. Valen and I do not have to depend on magic.”
Nathyrra shakes her head, “I have other tools at my disposal as well. If you go, I go.”
Morrighu grins at her, “Good enough.”
Morrighu turns back and reaches the door handle.
The mage stops her with a hand on her arm, “Do be careful.”
Morrighu smiles at him, “We will be very careful.”
She enters with Valen and Nathyrra trailing behind her. Immediately inside the door, the guardians of the tower are engaged in a fierce combat with some drow. Morrighu laughs, “First the drow, and then the guardians.” She leaps into the fray, charging at a group of drow who are attacking the guardians of the tower.
Spinning and twisting past the blows the drow seek to land, she strikes with her blades. As more of the drow begin to fall, the guardians turn their attention to her. Since they will not negotiate, she does not hesitate. Darting amongst them, Valen watches as her blades do their deadly work. Watching her fluid grace, he is reminded that she once ask him to dance with her as he chuckles at the memory.
Distracted by her, the balor lord he is fighting gets a clear swing at his head. His helm holds, but he is driven to his knees, striving to remain conscious. Nathyrra tries to cast a spell, but the only thing that happens is some penguins appear. She watches helplessly as Morrighu turns and runs full speed at the balor before he can complete his next down stroke with the huge blade he bears.
Just as the sword starts down, Morrighu makes her leap. It carries her over Valen’s kneeling figure and she plants both feet in the center of the balor’s chest. The sheer weight of her and her armor drives him backward into the wall behind him. With the balor off balance and temporarily off guard, she drives her blades into his chest while she mumbles a prayer to her goddess.
The balor screams hideously and disappears in a flash of light. Nathyrra sprints toward Valen, who is still shaking his head trying to clear his cobwebs. Several of the guardians, sensing easy prey, seek to attack him. Morrighu stands over him, her blades weaving a deadly web of defense.
She keeps bumping him with her knee, “Get up, Valen. I know you can do it.”
Nathyrra reaches her and Morrighu says, “See if you can get him up and moving at all. I want to get him into a corner. If I can stop them from coming at me from all sides, I can defend him and finish this fight.”
The slight drow struggles under the weight of the weapon master and his massive armor, but she finally gets him to his feet with an arm draped over her shoulders.
With Morrighu providing the defense, they back carefully into a corner.
Nathyrra bends to tend Valen while Morrighu’s prediction proves accurate. The guardians are not terribly bright and they follow them to continue the attack.
Valen comes around to see Morrighu positioned between them and the guardians, weaving a lethal wall of steel. He’s surprised to see that one of her blades seems to be spinning in her hand, acting much like a shield. Anything it touches is severed and he notes that she’s spattered heavily by the gore.
She asks tersely, “Nathyrra, is he awake yet? The rage frightened him so, I do no wish to give in to it again, especially so soon, but if he doesn’t wake, I may not have a choice.”
Valen answers her, “I think I can stand, my lady.”
She laughs, “Good! Are you able to put that flail of yours to good use? I could certainly use some assistance. I find I am a bit hard pressed by all of them at once.”
Valen clambers to his feet and says, “Stepping in on your right, my lady….now.”
He enters the fray next to her, and no longer having to adopt a solely defensive posture, the pair makes short work of the hook horrors and succubae that guard the tower. Morrighu moves to search the area, but finds nothing. The first door she opens releases a hell hound, which she quickly dispatches. She is disappointed to find nothing more than a food storage area, so she moves on.
The next door is a stairwell.
She looks at Valen and Nathyrra and says, “You two get some rest. I’ll stand guard. I suspect that the next floor will be worse than this.”
Valen looks at her, “Aren’t you hurt?”
She grins, “Nothing more than a few scratches. Certainly nothing to be concerned about, I assure you.”
Nathyrra and Valen obediently lay out their bed rolls. Nathyrra is soon asleep and Valen suppresses a snicker at her snoring.
Morrighu grins at him, “You should sleep too.”
Valen sighs, “I will in a moment. I need to take care of something first.”
He walks up to her and hooks a finger under her chin, raising her face, “I owe you my thanks, my lady. I am not used to being rescued and even less used to needing it.”
He bends forward and kisses her gently.
When he’s done, she grins at him, “I would hope you’d do the same for me.”
He chuckles, “Never doubt it. As always, wake me if you have need.”
He moves off to his bed roll and stretches out, leaving Morrighu to contemplate her sleeping companions. Her long watch is uneventful and gives her a chance to clean her armor up a bit.
She wakes Valen first with a gentle tap on his shoulder, “How are you feeling? That was quite a blow you took.”
He laughs quietly, “I know…I’m not quite sure what happened.”
She frowns at him, “I was afraid to let you sleep too long. It’s not good after a blow to the head.”
He nods, “You were right to wake me, even if it is to a splitting headache.”
She strokes his face gently, “Be glad that it is only a headache.”
She sighs heavily, “I’m glad that I was able to reach you in time. I saw you go down out of the corner of my eye.”
He stands up and pulls her to him, “I’m fine. Even if I fall, you can simply resurrect me. I followed your orders and we’re all equipped. It’s not as dire as you seem to think.”
She looks up at him in obvious distress, “I expected to be able to resurrect Cain, Neit, Midir, and the others too.”
She laughs bitterly, “Look how well that worked. I would not loose you, as well.”
He tightens his embrace of her, “Things are different now. You serve a different goddess. I am not any of the people that you mentioned. Nathyrra is here with us and she has magic. You have your relic. Calm down. It will all be well.”
She sighs and leans in to the comfort he offers.
After a while, she looks up at him and says, “Promise me that you’ll be more careful. I know that what we do is fraught with danger. I would not see it made any greater than it already is.”
He sighs, “I promise that I will be more careful.”
She kisses him on the cheek, “That is all I can ask for,” as she moves off to wake Nathyrra.
They make quick work of packing up and Morrighu approaches the stairwell again.
Nathyrra asks, “Aren’t you going to sleep at all?”
Morrighu shakes her head, “There’s been a lot of fighting going on up stairs while the two of you have been sleeping and it isn’t quiet yet. I’m ready to get this over with. I had some time while you two were asleep to take a good look at these shards. As nearly as I can tell from playing with the bits I have so far, there are likely only two other pieces of the actual glass of this mirror. If we can get this one, we’ll have four of the five shards. I’m hoping that this will be enough to convince who ever has the rest of it to help us instead of Sabal’s cohort. I’ll rest when we have the fourth shard.”
She trots up the stairs and throws the door open. Once again, the drow are locked in combat with the tower guardians. This time, she tears into both equally instead of trying to assist the guardians. As she discovered below, they are only summoned creatures and they cannot be reasoned with; they attack indiscriminately. Once the fight ends, Morrighu looks around but finds nothing of value. She turns to assess Nathyrra and Valen’s condition. They seem largely unhurt to her practiced eye. She opens a door and finds nothing but a study and a few mephits whom she bats aside as she closes the door. She continues her systematic search of the area and comes across another door. This opens into what is clearly a summoning chamber, complete with protective runes inlaid in the floor. While the guardians are evident, there are only a couple of dead drow to be seen.
Morrighu calls out to Valen, “This is good. We’ve gotten further than the drow.”
While Morrighu is looking over her shoulder, a huge balor lord casts a spell at Morrighu knocking her aside. She recovers quickly but Valen sprints past her.
The balor looks at Valen with surprise and growls in the Tanar’ri tongue, “We should not be fighting each other. Join me and we will rule this place.”
Valen grins evilly and answers in the same language, “If we should not be fighting each other, you should not attack my mate.”
The balor looks at him and sniffs dismissively, “Mate? You have mated to a pathetic mortal?”
Valen laughs, circling the balor, “I would hardly call her pathetic, and her status as a mortal is questionable. She’s slain two like you today alone.”
The balor looks at him appraisingly as they prowl around each other, “Shed your tie to this puny mortal, and we shall rule this place.”
Valen grins, “If you will submit to her will, you may join us. Failing that, we will have to fight.”
The balor laughs, “Submit? To a mortal?” and casts Dispel Magic on Valen. He looks confused, “She does not have you bound or enchanted?”
Valen shakes his head, “Not in the way you mean. Now you must choose, submit, or die.”
The balor looks around to find that Morrighu and Nathyrra have made short work of his underlings.
Morrighu walks up and looks at the two of them circling each other, speaking in a language she doesn’t understand so she asks, “Valen, are you going to kill him or invite him to afternoon tea? I only ask because if you’re going to kill him, I won’t waste time making tea. If you’re going to invite him to tea, I’d like to know so I can start boiling the water.”
Valen chuckles, “I’m waiting for him to decide which one it shall be.”
She grins, “Have you told him we are to fight an arch-devil? Will the Blood War compel him to aid us?”
The balor looks at her speculatively as he speaks to Valen, “So that is how she has bound you. She has promised you glory in the Blood War. Tell me, do you know the name of this arch-devil?”
Valen translates for Morrighu who answers, “Yes. The arch-devil we face is one called Mephistopheles. The Valsharess refers to him as “dread Mephistopheles.”"
The balor looks at Valen, “Does she mean Mephistopheles, Lord of the Eighth Hell and second only to Nessus?”
Valen nods, “I’m sure she does.”
The balor snorts, “Hah! She means to take him? A frail mortal female? You cannot be serious. You have tied your fate to this female? She will not last ten minutes facing him. My advice is that you find yourself another mate — a nice marilith, perhaps.”
Valen laughs again, “She has slain a god. She stands a better chance than most.”
The balor laughs derisively, “You are both doomed. I will never submit to your mortal female.”
Valen shakes his head, “Death it is, then. You have made your choice.”
While the balor is concerned with Valen, Morrighu moves in and hamstrings him from behind - crippling him, and bringing him to his knees. She manages to remove his sword hand before addressing the balor, “I don’t know what you said to Valen, but I don’t have to speak your language to read his face. I offer you the chance to surrender and fight with us. We will need all the help we can get. I cannot guarantee any of us will live past the final battle, but I can guarantee you that you will die here and now if you do not accept my offer.”
The balor snickers, “You are a fool. I will never submit to you, mortal female.”
Morrighu waits for Valen to translate and nods, “So be it,” as she begins a prayer and prepares to strike.
The balor looks at Valen and laughs, “You are mated to a paladin? You are doubly a fool. She will be rid of you as soon as she is able. A paladin will never tolerate having a Tanar’ri by her side for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. When she is done with you, she will turn on you.”
Morrighu looks at Valen for confirmation before she strikes and Valen nods, but looks shaken. Nathyrra, who has spent some time in the Abyss, understands portions of the conversation and she looks shaken as well.
She speaks to Valen in drow, knowing that Morrighu will not understand, “Why did you name her as your mate to that thing when you will not even tell her how you feel?”
Valen does not reply, but blushes furiously and gives Nathyrra a dark look before he shrugs and walks off. Morrighu looks back and forth between the two of them, but decides to remain silent.
Instead she walks over to Valen, “What is it that the thing said that upset you so?”
Valen refuses to turn to face her so she takes his arm and pulls. He shakes himself loose from her grip and stomps off.
Nathyrra rushes over to Morrighu “Let him go. He needs some time.”
Morrighu looks at Nathyrra, distressed, “That…that thing said something to him that upset him. I think you know at least part of what was said. Will you tell me?”
Nathyrra shakes her head, “It is not my place to tell you. He will tell you when he is ready.”
Morrighu nods and looks despondent. She searches the area idly, looting as she goes. She finds a few things that she brings to Nathyrra to who identifies them for her. Listlessly, she stows them in her pack. Nathyrra notes that there seems to be some spark missing, some vital thing in her that has gone dormant.
Nathyrra realizes suddenly that the paladin is moping over Valen, so she goes to find him.
Nathyrra approaches Valen, “What’s wrong with you?”
Valen looks up at her startled, “You heard what the balor said. What if he’s right? How does she know how the Valsharess refers to the devil? How can she possibly know his name?”
Nathyrra frowns at him, “You cannot be serious! Come here. I want to show you something.”
Valen rolls his eyes at her but follows her to the door, which is still open slightly. He peeks around it and sees Morrighu sitting there, toying with her belt knife.
He looks at Nathyrra, “It’s Morrighu. What of it?”
Nathyrra demands “Look closer.”
Valen looks more closely and she sees that she looks sad. She is sitting in a somewhat curled up position with her cheek against her bent knee; her expression is unhappy; her shoulders are slumped and while he’s watching he sees her heave a huge sigh.
Nathyrra pulls him away from the door, “All that is the result of your little fit of temper with her. If she’s that unhappy over you being in a snit, do you really think she’d give you cause to be angry with her? If you wish to discover how she knows these things, why do you not simply ask her, instead of assuming the worst?”
Valen swallows heavily and shakes his head. Nathyrra narrows her eyes at him, “So you get back in there, and you tell her that everything is fine. You make it be fine or I will tell her what was said. You really are dense. She loves you. Even her goddess told you she loves you and you stand here doubting her over some rude comment made by an untrustworthy tanar’ri.”
He sighs, “You are correct. I will go speak to her. Would you…would you wait here for a bit?”
She nods and he leaves the library and goes back to the summoning room, closing the door behind him carefully. He walks over slowly and sighs before sitting down next to Morrighu.
She looks over at him and he sees something in her eyes that looks hopeful, “I don’t suppose you’d tell me what that thing said to upset you so.”
He was visibly excited by his own words. My skin was on fire. I sighed heavily, and continued to gaze into the familiar warmth of his chocolate eyes. “No, Ben, I can’t say I ever have.” That was a lie. I should be shot.
“That’s honest of you,” he frowned, the creases around his eyes growing. “I think about you a lot, obviously. I wish that…”
“Ben, stop!,” I sighed. “What you’re suggesting isn’t going to work.”
He rolled onto his side, and searched my eyes passionately. “Why, Lee?” he questioned in despair. “Why can’t it work?”
I thought about this for a long moment, but my eyes never left his. He was serious about this, and though I wanted to throw him down in that moment, and keep him beneath me forever…I was arguing with him. Why? “I don’t know why it won’t work, Ben,” I finally sighed. That was honest. “But it won’t.”
“Why not?” he inquired softly, and reached his hand up to run over my cheek.
“I love you, Ben,” I sighed. “But this will not work, and it will end up miserable.”
“Why?” he repeated for the umpteenth time. “If I love you and you love me, what could go so wrong, Lee? What?”
“What if we break up?” I challenged. “Our friends will have to take sides!”
He shrugged, but never removed his hand from the side of my face. “What if it’s am amicable break up? What if we don’t break up? What about Jenna and Paul?” he asked, question after questioned.
I shrugged back. “What about Jenna and Paul?”
“Well,” he smiled and inched closer to me. “If they get divorced, what happens then?”
“I don’t know,” I answered faintly, my voice nearly a whisper. He was right. Why was I challenging him?
Benji’s lips were within inches of mine now, and his thumb was slowly tracing the line of my jaw. “Lee,” he whispered. “You smell likes roses and you feel like silk.”
I wanted to burst into laughter at that moment, tell Benji that he was no Shakespeare. The simple fact was, those words meant more to me than anything that horrible playwright could have ever written. This was Benjamin Levi Madden: my everything. And he wanted me, even if just for tonight. Somehow, that was enough in that moment.
“Relax,” he assuaged. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I licked my lips and continued to get lost in his eyes. They were so full of life, so full of passion; they always had been. I loved those eyes.
“Lee?” he breathed, and it was deep and lustful. “Kiss me, please.”
Those few inches between us disappeared fast, his lips were gentle and plush, so warm on my own. His taste was sugar and spice, something strong and masculine. Our tongues touched, and he was gentle yet firm. He guided our movements, rolled me onto his chest so that he could search me with his hands while he tasted my lips. His breath was ragged, and that alone, embodied sex. A sign that I made his pulse soar, his body sweat.
It was only minutes before his hands were pressed between our bodies, underneath my oversized t-shirt, massaging my breasts, and exciting my nipples with his large, calloused hands. “Beautiful,” he whispers into my ear. “So perfect, Lee.”
I hesitated before reaching between Benji and I, avoiding his hands, searching for the small doorway to his pleasure. I find it, but decide to tease him instead. I run my hand slowly back up his body, and gently massage the soft fuzz of his stomach. So gentle, like down on a goose. I want to laugh at this comparison, but instead, feel his body twitch. “Don’t stop,” he moans, eyes shut and face contorted into sheer pleasure. I gaze down at him, and press our lips back together as I slide my hand inside his boxers. My skin is on fire, sensitive to every touch. My breathing is growing labored, and I can feel the warmth of Benji’s hard-on in my hand. It’s as though, in that moment, my feminine parts and my hands are linked: I grow wet with the touch. I want to feel Benji where I have always longed for him.
“Oh god,” I gasp as I feel Benji’s hand reciprocate inside my panties. “Oh god, Ben, please.” There will be no waiting tonight, no torturously long foreplay. I want to feel my fantasies breathed to life now. Now, dammit.
Benji understands, and flips me over quickly but gently. He supports his weight with those amazingly strong arms, and stares down into my eyes. There’s a slow grin across his face as he kneels up and begins to remove my panties. Then a wide, lecherous smirk as he tosses his boxers to the floor beside my boy shorts. I stare at his exposed body, all tattoos. He stares at my body, cock twitching, and I could die happy just knowing he wants me.
Instead, I feel myself losing all grasp of reality, as he leans forward and closes those delicate lips over my nipple. His tongue begins to slowly circle moistening, and forcing my body to repond with more of its own moisture in other places. He grabs my hips to steady me beneath him, and pulls slowly away with a seductive smirk. I can barely will my body to move, but I somehow manage to bring my hands up to grasp his hips. I take one last giant sigh as he leans forward and I can feel him, so close, so hard.
“You ready?” he grins.
I nod.
“I love you, Lee,” he growls as he pushes forward, and our bodies become one. I can no longer decipher where Benji ends and I begin. He’s inside me, on top of me, all over me. Consuming me. We kiss and then he backs away, focusing on the pistoning motion of his hips. Slow, at first. Painfully slow.
“Faster,” I moan.
He complies and his strokes grow longer; but more forceful and quicker. His face is contorted into an expression that might normally make me laugh, but tonight, tightens my body in all the right places. His hips are so firm, so masculine. I massage with my hands, utterly powerless to do anything else.
“God,” he growls. “You’re so tight! So fucking tight.”
“Thanks,” I smirk, then wish I could take it back. But his hips never slow, and I doubt he’s even heard me. He continues his movements, and I somehow managed to move my hands from his body to my own. I massage my breasts, bringing a smile to his lips. I run my hands tauntingly lower, and feel his body respond. I feel devilish, and so I snake a hand slowly down my body and spread my fingers around my pussy. I can feel him entering me this way, can stroke my clit slowly as he begins massaging my breasts.
“Lee,” he hisses and I move my hand to his cock. I’m stroking him as he drives inside me. “Lee, fuck, I’m going to come if you keep doing that!”
“Good,” I grin, but I pull my hand away. I return my attention to my breasts, slowly squeezing my nipples and twisting them playfully. He goes nuts at this, and growls like an animal. Within moments, he’s spread across my chest, jerking slightly as he cums deep inside my body.
“Fuck!” he groans as his orgasm ends. He falls over beside me, and rolls onto his back. “Fuck Lee, did you cum?”
I grin and run my finger- wet from our juices- across his lips. “Not yet, my pet.”
“Good,” Benji smiles and rolls back over my body. He begins to lower himself, a delicious grin across those plump, pink lips. “I have an idea.”
“Oh?” I giggle and spread my legs wider.
He nods, and I can feel his lips already between my legs. “Afterall, you are the birthday girl.”
“That I am,” I giggle.
“And you deserve a birthday to remember,” he continues, and I feel his finger working slowly between my folds. Right in that moment, I know this has been the best birthday ever.
With his lips and tongue teasing her right breast, Caesar placed his hand on her left breast, stroking the nipple with his thumb. She cried out and ran her fingers along his muscular shoulder blades. He bit down on her right nipple softly and her body tightened up like a tight string on a guitar and she came gloriously, withering beneath him.
Caesar watched her and grinning, holding her close; being her anchor out of the violent, orgasmic storm.
“That sounded pretty amazing and we aren’t even half done.”
She smiled and kissed him, feeling a stronger ache form in between her legs.
Caesar saw the look of desire in Gabrielle’s eyes and experimentally stroked her clit with his thumb, watching her eyes lose their focus and she cried out, wanting more.
He moved down, spread out her legs and breathed on her wet heat, causing her to shudder and close her eyes. Caesar pressed his tongue against her clit while he slowly slid a finger into her opening.
Gabrielle groaned, feeling his finger stroke her inner walls and his tongue teased her clit with no mercy for her nerves.
He watched her toss her head back and forth and moan his name. “Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?”
“Yes, Julius,” she replied, breathless.
“Do you want more?”
She nodded quickly, feeling her heart beat pick up even more at the thought of more pleasure.
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want, Julius,” she replied, wishing he would not make her say it.
“I want to know how to pleasure you, Gabrielle. Tell or I’ll stop.”
She began to speak in a reluctant tone. “I… I want.. I want.. your tongue inside me.”
Caesar grinned wickedly. “My pleasure, my dear.”
He wrapped his arms around her hips, holding her in place as his tongue slid into her moist heat.
She gasped and dug her fingers into the bed sheets, tilting her head up to the ceiling.
He watched her as his tongue worked magic on her womanhood. Suddenly, she began trying to buck her hips and started crying out loudly. He felt a gush of warmth fill his mouth and he swallowed and cleaned her off with his tongue.
Gabrielle lay there panting. She could not believe that lovemaking could be so wonderful.
Sliding up, he kissed her deeply and pressed his dripping manhood against her entrance. She wrapped her arms around him and felt him press into her.
“I’ll be gentle, bard,” he said, reassuring her that everything would be all right.
His manhood slid into her and he stopped when three of his six inches were impaling her and waited for her to open up for him. Caesar kissed her cries and reached in between their joined bodies, stroking her clit and her groans of pain quickly changed into ones of pleasure. He gently slid the rest of his manhood in and started retreating back until the tip of him was still inside her and he gently thrust back in. His thrusts continued like that until they both reached their boiling points and his thrusts became harder and faster, bringing extreme pleasure to both.
He spurted wetly into her and collapsed on top of her, exhausted. She wrapped her arms around him and together, still joined, they fell asleep.
THE END
“Author’s Notes: Corona is the gold crown with leaves on it from Ancient Roman costumes. ”
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