Another try. I originally posted this as the second chapter to a one-shot I wrote, but it didn't seem to fit very well so I'm gonna make this it's own thing. This may or may not be more successful. Please note that this is just practice. Probably gonna be very cringey. Please, please, please leave reviews! I want suggestions on how to improve. This story wasn't originally going to be an erotic one, but I wanted to do more stuff with the characters as well as practice this kind of writing.
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"Can we consider this a confessional?" The woman asked, her voice soft in the dark room.
"Of course." The man responded, his words barely above a whisper. "What is it you wish to tell me?"
"I think I've been rather bad." The woman said. "I've been having some very…strange thoughts lately."
"What sorts of thoughts? Surely they cannot be that terrible. Tell me." The man placated. He seemed sincere in his worry. He was adorned in pale robes, all white and gold. His face was positively angelic, pale and porcelain and framed by long blond hair that he kept in an unruly ponytail. A small triangle of hair decorated his chin, and the woman suddenly felt shy. He was beautiful, the perfect priest.
The man she had first met in the hospital, while she was recovering under his care.
"Well, they are rather…sinful." Barely a second had passed before she burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I can't do it. It's so silly."
The man groaned and lifted the woman into his arms.
"For a rogue, you're awfully vanilla." He grumbled.
"And yet it doesn't surprise me how kinky you are." She answered dryly as he pinned her to the bed and began unlacing the bindings of her armor. "All that time spent preaching purity and living in an all-male dorm must take its toll."
"I do not preach." He growled, nipping her shoulder. "I heal. That's it. All I wanted to do with my life was to help people. It has nothing to do with my sexual preferences. And in case you haven't noticed, my holy power hasn't suffered in the slightest since we started having our little assignations."
The woman hummed beneath his ministrations.
"So 'purity' has nothing to do with it?" She mused. "Then why does the Church emphasize it so much?"
"Got me." He mumbled, starting on her pants. "They're crazy. Honestly, I'd have liked to be a druid. They make more sense."
"Then why didn't you?" She asked, taking his earlobe between her teeth. "You seem like the kind of person who'd get quite a kick out of being the first sin'dorei druid."
"Well that's the thing: there were no druids to train me." The priest stated. His fingers had moved to her breasts and his mouth followed suit.
"You could ask one of the Darkspear or the Tauren to teach you." The woman murmured, stroking the man's long blond hair. "It's never too late for a career change."
"Syllyn." The man said.
"Tarevis." She mimicked his serious tone.
"As riveting as this conversation is, could you please. Stop. Talking." With that he smothered her giggles beneath his lips.
/*\
The barmaid stared at Kirion dubiously. She looked equal parts infuriated and tempted. Her hands rested at her hips and a thin, black eyebrow arched on the human woman's face.
"Add eighty more gold and you have a deal." She finally decided, staring carefully into his eyes.
"If you were any less beautiful," Kirion responded, just as callously, "I would refuse. Here," he said, pushing some coins over the bar. She counted the change.
"There's only two hundred and forty here." She said.
"You can have the other half after the fact." When the woman didn't respond, Kirion spoke again. "If you don't want to…" Her brows furrowed and her mouth curled into a grimace.
"No, I'll take the deal. I just never thought I'd be servicing a death knight is all. My name is Serena." Careful to make sure her employer didn't see, she scooped the gold coins into an unremarkable leather satchel and hid it beneath the bar. Serena made a few gestures at one of the other barmaids, and the woman nodded. "Follow me."
Trying not to seem too eager, Kirion followed the woman at a leisurely pace. She led him to the top floor of the inn, into a small bedroom. As she locked the door behind her, Kirion removed his gloves and boots. She then took over and got to work on his armor. Though she put on a confident front the barmaids' fingers shook as she undid the leather buckle holding his pauldrons on, and her brows remained furrowed. Kirion inwardly sighed. It was always the same.
"You don't have to be nervous. I am like any other man just…colder." He stated, his voice echoing softly.
"I'm not nervous." Serena corrected. "It's like you said. You're cold." Kirion waited until she had finished with his breastplate to move over to the fireplace. He threw in a few logs and lit it.
"Better?" He inquired. Her eyes widened and slowly she nodded.
"Thank you."
"Now take off yours." Her gaze – a brilliant shade of green – darted to the ground as she reached back to unlace her bodice. Soon enough it, along with her dress, fell to the floor. She looked up, awaiting his reaction.
She was beautiful, absolutely. Full breasts remained barely contained within her brassiere, and a plain blue thong protected her most intimate pieces. Kirion approached her. Very gently he let his fingers trail over the softness of her skin as he circled her, looking her over the way a lion might look at its next meal.
In life, he didn't think he'd be the kind of man who would engage in such activities. Intimacy was something to be earned, not bought, but in his newfound state as a living corpse he realized few would entertain the notion of allowing him to earn it. This was the next best choice.
Kirion picked out the pins from Serena's hair, blacker than the crows that circled outside, and he placed them on the table next to the door as the long curtain of hair fell down her back. Faintly he could hear things, creaking from beds, airy gasps, and men swearing. He was not the only one who desired attention tonight. Swiftly he placed his mouth over the barmaids.
She was slow in her reciprocation, getting used to the feel of his freezing lips no doubt, but ultimately she placed her hands on his chest. Kirion wrapped his arms around her and let the tip of his tongue swipe across the bottom of her lower lip. She permitted him access, and as soon as he slid into her mouth a violent shiver wracked down her spine. Kirion swiftly backed her up to the fur rug in front of the fireplace and lightly pushed her to her knees, where she quite conveniently stared at his stomach.
"Take them off." He commanded quietly. After all, the next two hours of her time belonged to him. He would take everything he possibly could.
As the human woman picked at the laces of Kirion's breeches, the night elf found his excitement rising. It was a feeling as familiar as it was foreign. Instead of a rush of primal heat, the tingling of his mana was what pooled in his lower stomach. As Serena pushed his pants down to his ankles, the pleasure her hands and lips afforded him felt almost akin to warmth, and it gently reverberated through his body in mellow waves.
That is, until she did something different. His fingers knotted in her hair when he felt her tongue slide around the tip and delve into his slit. Though her hand was still firmly locked around him, and the other massaged the soft skin beneath it, it suddenly wasn't enough. He wanted more. He couldn't stop himself from pulling her head forward and bucking into her mouth. She gagged and shot him a sour look. She removed herself to catch her breath.
Kirion knelt down in front of her.
"Sorry." He murmured, "That just–"
"Felt good?" The woman filled in. Then a small, triumphant smirk decorated her pouty lips. "I know." To this Kirion grunted, and he quickly had her pinned her to the floor. She stared up at him, her fear not fully replaced by the lust that started to cloud her gaze.
"Relax. Any other man, remember?"
"Men who order these services can be very violent."
"Is that so?"
Serena raised an eyebrow and turned her neck for him to see in the light of the fire. Right there, formerly hidden by the shadows, was a large bruise. Teeth marks it looked like, and just a speck of blood.
"That is what I usually receive on a good day." She said.
"And on a bad day?"
"Sometimes blood, occasionally a broken bone." She said it so nonchalantly, so matter-of-fact, that for a moment Kirion was taken aback.
"Well I assure you, you will have none of that with me. I am not that kind of man." Kirion murmured. "Now close your eyes and relax."
/*\
Syllyn shrieked as Tarevis held her body, pinned between him and the wall behind her. He bit and kissed and licked her heated skin. He pinched her sensitive nipples between his fingers and all she could do was keep her ankles hooked around his waist and call his name.
"Tarevis!" She moaned, letting him press his open mouth to her neck.
"Yes Syllyn?" He asked, catching his breath, thrusting just a little harder.
"Yes," she mewled, "like that. Just-like that."
"You got it." He growled. He rocked his hips into her harder, and harder, and harder…until he didn't. Just as she cried out in protest he removed her from the wall and set her back on her feet just at the edge of the bed. Almost immediately vertigo overtook Syllyn and black spots clouded her vision. Her legs felt liquefied and she would have almost certainly fell over if not for the fact that Tarevis grabbed her shoulders. He pulled her close into a kiss as hot as it was patient. His rod pressed against her stomach, hot and soaked from having just exited her thrumming body.
Not a moment later Tarevis spun her around and bent her over the bed. For a second Syllyn couldn't help but think about how frightened she'd been the first time he'd tried it.
And how surprised she'd been to find that she quite liked it.
Syllyn arched her back and spread her legs as far as they would go, so that he might have better access to her. She presented herself to him almost like a gift, and he was not unappreciative. Unhurried he draped himself over her like a blanket and teased the weeping entrance, letting his fingers glide in and out of the silken smoothness as he lightly kissed across her shoulders. She could feel her muscles flexing around him, desiring more, and though the feeling was not unpleasant it lacked the intensity she desired.
"Come on Tarevis." She breathed. "We've been at this for almost two hours."
"Oh Syllyn," he chided, "you can't be getting tired yet, can you? I thought the rogue training was supposed to improve your stamina."
"I'm not-not trained for stamina." She shot back, turning her head to look at him. "I'm trained for finesse." It was then that Tarevis stopped, and moved his hands away from her. She almost protested before he spoke.
"That's right. You're not a warrior, endurance is not your forte. Speed and subtlety is your area of expertise. And also, if I'm not mistaken, you were well trained in the art of swords."
Syllyn could almost hear the black smile in his voice. To hell with that. She thought. Two can play this game.
"That's true." She answered, beginning to calm down. The cool air felt unpleasant on her 'pretty flower' as Tarevis so sweetly called it. Her heat was falling, fast, and she was not happy with that. "My skill very much lies with swords, and fighting, where your skills are a little tamer. I could probably break you and your sword in two, if you were to displease me too much."
"How fierce you are, tiny Syllyn. Then tell me: what is it that would please you?" He leered. Syllyn could see that his arm was moving from the corner of her eye. He was working himself, rather than her. Teasing her. Her eyes narrowed. She let her glowing green gaze meet his before she spoke.
"It would please me if you would stop playing with your sword." She scolded. "It is not a toy. Put it back in its sheath, where it belongs."
To her chagrin, Tarevis laughed.
"You're getting better at this." He praised. "And which sheath would you be talking about, love?"
"As far as I know there's only one." She growled. "If you think there's more than one, I may have to kill you. Horrendously."
"Then I best not leave my one sheath waiting." And then very abruptly, Syllyn went from the disappointment of not having him, to him bucking his full length into her. In just a few thrusts, the fire had completely reignited. His hand grasped both of her wrists together, holding them still above her head. The other had slid down her stomach and now teased at her sensitive clit, lightly pressing and stroking. He drove into her deep, stretching her arousal to the furthest limits. He pushed his way even to the back and he stroked the most sensitive spots with expert movements.
Sometimes, Syllyn completely adored him.
It was just a matter of moments before the elf shrieked her exhilaration, and lowered her face into the cool blanket. It wasn't a second later that her lover finished. She could feel it as he rammed himself into her one final time, his fingers gripping her hips so hard that they could have left bruises. She could feel how deep he had thrust himself, and just how deep he had thrust the hot white fluid he kept trapped within her.
Tarevis sighed heavily before he withdrew. Syllyn grunted with the feeling. Almost instantly liquid – of the pale, sticky sort she assumed – trickled down her legs, clinging to her thighs. As she took a moment to breathe, she felt a strip of soft cloth sweep away the liquid as well as gently clean off her swollen arousal.
"Feels nice." She murmured, and Tarevis smoothly lifted her back up into his arms. He placed her in the bed and collapsed next to her, kissing her face, her shoulders, her breasts, whatever he could reach before finally resting his chin on top of her head.
"I love my nights with you." He said.
"The feeling is mutual." Syllyn responded, pulling the blankets up over them. "Don't ever change."
"I couldn't if I tried."
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Well that was okay. I think. Hope you liked it.
-Statyck