First WoW Fanfic, Second Overall. I own nothing except my Razer Mouse & Prideful Gear. Got this idea after running ICC-25 and thought how it would be to have served in the Lich King's prison. Smut - because, Arthas. And death knights.
Thick.
Licking her parched lips with an equally dry tongue, that one word assaulting her mind, she crawled on the frozen floor toward the front of her cell.
Hoping that she'd catch a glimpse of him. Her jailer, who never took of his grey-iron spiky helm nor did he remove the majority of his armor.
He, who had been her only constant in the past weeks. Or months. Or years. It didn't matter, really.
She wasn't sure when she started to like it, but she began to look forward to the heavy footsteps approaching her cell and her body responded in kind. It was a kind of warmth, and even though it started between her cold thighs, it would eventually spread up to her core and down to her thighs.
Words were never exchanged. Just fluids, breath, and heat.
She closed her eyes and allowed the memory to come to her.
He wasn't gentle, but she didn't mind.
The sound of his leg plates crashing to the cement floor would echo through the spacious jail. Sounds were rare and she delighted in that sound almost as much as his rare gasps of pleasure as she took his thickness in her hands, first.
He was thick and heavy, both in and out of states of arousal. His hair was matted and crinkly and but became soft when saturated with her hot saliva.
She would sit back on her heels and would often try to ground herself on something, hoping for a tast of the sensations she was giving him.
He didn't like it when she did that and would grasp her by her shoulders, forcing his cock deeper into her mouth.
She would lick and suck as long as he wanted. She even began to know what he liked, how to bring him off quickly or how to slowly torture him and withholding his release.
Regardless she'd always note his thickness as she would close her eager lips around his shaft. Sometimes he'd hold her by her hair as he fucked his mouth, but more often than not he held on to the bars of the cells as he pumped his hips into her warmth mouth.
When he came, it was as if time stood still. She knew when he was approaching his release. He would thrust erratically, jerking his hips toward her mouth in no pattern. His thigh muscles would tense and low growl would escape his covered mouth. She wished she could see his arousal in his eyes. Wished she could see how his face grimaced as he finally let go, thick release spilling into her dry mouth. She lapped it up, swallowing what he spurt and licking his thighs and thick shaft clean.
She took her time cleaning his semi-erect cock with her tongue. It was as glorious flaccid as it was hard and was always, always so thick. He let her clean it until the feeling passed, and he would push her shoulder away. Perhaps because it was truly the only part of him that she could see that she thought of it so fondly.
He'd turn away from her then and quickly don his legguards. As he walked away, she'd hear the familiar clank of his metal boots against the cement again and gaze wistfully after him.