A haze of smoke hung in the bleary morning light, scents of salty ocean spray mingling with those of gunfire and obliterated, sap-rich vegetation. There was skirmishing further down the shore, distant concussions as artillery collided with sandy ground, innocent tree line, and presumably anything fleshy between the two. It was a wholly messy affair, this war thing, the man perched on a low-hanging tree branch decided, as though this had been some long-standing internal debate in which he'd only just decided a winning stance.
He dropped from his branch with a soft thud, the forest floor absorbing much of the noise of his impact. He was a solid figure, thickly built beneath layers of armour designed to protect as well as provide cover in the poor morning light. Long, knife-like ears poked up from beneath his hood, dappled with an uneven gray bordering on black with remnants of an earlier rain. Bright, fel-tainted eyes watched his surroundings warily as a grimace drew back the corners of his supple, well-shaped mouth, his lips a ruddy cupid's bow beneath a neglected but handsome auburn beard. All his hair was this deep auburn colour, as though the generous smattering of burnt umber freckles that coated his body from cheeks to feet-yes, even the tops of his long, wide feet-had decided the already florid man required -more- red in his life.
He moved silently through the underbrush, towards the battle that was slowly heading his way. Like sewer rats before bloated alligators people were often driven from the thick of the fighting; frightened Alliance were easy pickings, and he was bound by duty to assist his fellow Horde-though frankly, given his choice, he worked for whoever paid highest. This morning, however, he wore the red and black, and thus his shield-and his hammer, and his sword, and all of his knives, and arguably his horse back at base camp, the kicky, bitey fucker-belonged to the Horde.
He would not have given the bundle of cloth and limbs nestled within the roots of a broad-leafed tree-little white flowers, teak maybe?-a second glance, save for the bright hair he spied among the papery fallen leaves. Assumptions were made, made far too quickly for any clever being's standards, and without a thought, the man gathered the little blonde-headed creature and his effects over his shoulder and set to wandering back the way he'd come, away from the encroaching noise and the various reeking scents of violence.
The small, unconscious Human slowly rose to some state of wakefulness, barely enough to process the pounding in his head and the un-identifiable pain in his shoulders. He could feel a dull throb in his stomach, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud. Forcing his eyes open with a distinct amount of willpower, Waliurn's first sight since the battle was of a pair of large paws, slowly stalking down a wet, pre-dawn beach.
Overwhelming panic began to brew up inside the prone man, his blood pulsing faster through his veins and a rush of nervous adrenaline made his limbs tingle with anticipation. His immediate reaction was to struggle with the creature that was supporting him, but after a moments consideration he judged it too risky- He was unaware of his captor's physical strength. Wali attempted to slow his heartbeat, bringing himself back from the precipice of a transformation. A particularly distressing WOMP throbbed through his stomach as the man beneath him stepped over a stray bit of flotsam. A low, quiet whimper sounded from his mouth, unable to restrain it. He lay still, unsure if he had been heard.
The blood elf picked his way through the no man's land between rampant, verdant jungle and as of yet unspoiled shore, mindful to keep his cloak from catching on outstretched brush and careful not to jostle his newly found hostage. It was quiet enough in the muted, gloomy morning that he heard the man's whimper; he felt awfully light to the hooded elf, though everyone felt light to a man well used to habitually lifting and dropping heavy objects for fun and profit. He gave the cloth-wrapped bundle of flesh and whimpers a reassuring pat and continued on his way; his assumption included postulation that the blonde probably shouldn't be walking, after all why else would he have been curled up amidst roots and decaying leaves and who knew what else? People didn't just nap this close to battles, after all.
After a few minutes, he came to a small, covered clearing. It was shady; for all that the sun hadn't yet raised enough to make overbearing brightness an issue. With a surprising amount of gentleness, he set his captive down against a new tree, practiced finesse keeping the man both from dropping and from hitting his head against hard wood. Something about him was off- Oh, Light. His realization of his mistake-having grabbed a human and not the elf he thought he'd snagged-was written plainly on his features, an unfortunately crestfallen look that had decided early on in life that it was going to be a grin, everyone else's opinion be damned. After a moment of staring at the little blonde's face and ears, positively looming over him, all broad shoulders and thick, armoured arms and heavily-greaved thighs, he reluctantly stated in Common for the human's benefit, "You're not a blood elf, are you," as though by simply speaking his worry he could magically correct his error and have the man assume the features of the fellow he -thought- he'd abducted.
The Human abandoned any pretences of being asleep, and raised his head with some difficulty to face his captor. "No, I'm bloody well not. Good fucking job carrying me here, not exactly a fucking stroll through a meadow or anything." Shifting in his place on the ground, Wali ran his gloved hands over his limbs and torso, eyes flashing a dull yellow light periodically as his hands twitched, glowing briefly. Satisfied with whatever magical fuckery he'd been performing, he stared again at the Elf that was standing over him.
"Sorry to disappoint mate, I'm not one of your knife-eared brothers." Staring past the man and seeing no familiar sights, he growled briefly. "How far did you take me? I can't remember anything after that fucking Orc decided to try and brain me with the flat side of an axe. I thought I drew up a shield fast enough, but apparently not fast enough to avoid blunt-force-fucking-trauma." He reached behind his head, wrapped a palm about the back of his neck and closed his eyes. The barely-perceptible glow from his eyes still pierced through the man's eye lids. He sighed contentedly, the throbbing pain from his injury disappearing instantly.
The man's face was young- the peculiar sort of 'Young' where a man has all the features of a grown male, but without the cohesiveness that comes with age. His beard was light and blonde, like a Sunflower without the attached pretty-boy connotations. His hair was much the same, if not a little more wild; it had clearly been left uncut for a number of months. His green eyes, bright and welcoming, moved slowly about, taking in his surroundings.
Beneath his hood, the dark-bearded sin'dorei's visage underwent several changes in expression, all of them tinted with a spritely curiosity that might have seemed alien on an otherwise regal, perhaps even handsome face. There was nothing of the androgynous beauty that graced the features of many of his young brethren; he had seen nearly one century and half another of life, and he certainly had not spent that time swaddled in silken finery, his pale hide safe from the sun. As the obviously Light-happy human spoke, the red and black armoured man's grimace reshaped itself into a real grin, dimples indenting beneath the coarse auburn scruff of his beard and little wrinkles tucking at the corners of his eyes, the crow's feet of someone who's spent a lot of his life smiling. "Orcs are like that, unfortunately. Feisty little shit, aren't you?" The fair-haired man's grousing -was- oddly endearing; he had had many a medic and companion utter far worse curses, some even aimed his way, and it never ceased to amuse him the rage such tiny figures often contained.
The Human snorted through his nose, lowered his hands and pinched a small amount of sand from the ground beneath him. Flinging the sand in the Elf's direction, he rolled his eyes and mock-growled; "I'm vicious. A monster." Mumbling incoherently to himself, he made to stand, tripping slightly on the hem of as robe as he did so. Dusting off sand and other particles, and crossing his arms, Wali tutted at the other man. "This is a fucking riot, this is. Where's my unit, where's my fuckin- Did you pick up my staff? Of-fucking-course you didn't, did you?" Sighing and almost-strutting a few steps in the opposite direction of his admittedly attractive cap- No, no, bad thoughts. Elf bad, getting the fucking gilded walking stick back, good.
The Human turned, his boots kicking up sand as they shifted among the loose particles. Crossing his arms yet again, his face dropped in defeat. "I'm lost, and I don't know who the fuck you are or where the fuck I am or where the fuck any of my shit is. Good job." Taking off the glove on his right hand, he opened his fingers and laid his hand flat in the air, palm up. A brief moment passed before the man sighed loudly, dropping his arm to his side.
As the human stood, so too did the burly elf. Light, but this foul-mouthed little human was tiny! The grey-cloaked paladin stood well over a head above his blonde captive, a little under six and a half feet of thickly muscled and heavily armoured fighter positively dwarfing the fair-faced priest. He had gathered the man's affects, actually-the staff included. He had dropped it before dropping the robed bundle, figuring the stick could probably take more falls than the unwell human. It lay nearby, unnoticed, but he chose not to point that out-yet.
In the most affable tone imaginable, he stated, "As I'm sure you're aware, there is a war happening fairly close by. As wars go, it's a pretty small one," compared to fighting demons and Scourge it was a fucking field day, actually, "but it's still probably safer here than back there, tiny puny babby war or no." He closed in on the human as he took those few cocky, frustration-fuelled steps, clearly not intending to let him get far; he moved with a sort of fluid grace, the kind seen mostly in large, prowling felines and coiled, lurking serpents. "Here is here and lost is lost, whether you can put names to where you are or where you're not," he singsonged merrily, his deep voice rumbling within his chest. He reached out and took the smaller man by the upper arm and gently turned him in the direction of his stick, and in a more reasonable tone he added, "I can help with one of those gripes, however. My name is Captain Hamiel Dawnhammer." It was always funny to him that when he wore the red and black, he was a captain, and yet when he wore the blue and gold, he was a lieutenant colonel. He was probably due to ditch the lieutenant part of that title, actually; he'd have to be proud son of the Alliance sometime soon.
He didn't release the priest; his staff could wait where it was, and while Hamiel was often surprisingly quick and nimble for such a large thing, he didn't fancy chasing after the smaller man-he was a liability now, he couldn't be allowed to go give away the paladin's position, he reasoned. "Indulge me. Who are you?"
The Priest's eyes narrowed as the other man placed his hand well within his personal space. Petty gripes with being touched were forgotten, however, when the man saw his staff, lying softly in the sand. A squee of delight tumbled its way out of his mouth, partially numbed by present company. Turning to the Elf; "Waliurn. Furthburrow, if you must now. Now..." Raising a hand to where the other male had placed his own, Wali bought his palm in sharp contact with the tan flesh. A searing heat would course through the man's hands, through his gloves and onto the surface of Hamiel's skin. "Now, excuse me while I get my staff."
He was honestly torn: take the priest to task for the heat seeping from his comparatively diminutive hand through both Hamiel's chain and the underlying leather of his gloves, or force him to account for that frankly girlish, if muted, squeal of delight at seeing his long-lost stick. Both the man himself and his armour were highly resistant to magic, inborn ability augmented by neatly woven enchantments-it would do him no good to face a foe, only to have said nuisance melt his armour to his body or something equally churlish!-and if it was to be a test of discomfort, he felt he'd certainly best the little blonde, as he had certainly had worse. Rather than letting go of the understandably displeased human, he tightened his grip upon his upper arm, thick, gloved fingers vicelike around sleeve-swaddled flesh. He stared down his long nose at the priest, one auburn brow arched as though questioning if he, Waliurn, really wished to do this; judging by his grip and the fact that even tempered, his hands were strong enough to bruise bone, it was far more likely he'd damage the priest before succumbing to his clever little trick.
The wee Human grunted in irritation. Turning his head; his body had been set on course, sure that the burst of heat would be enough to rid him of the arresting hand. Panic set in moments after he came to the realization that it was unlikely that he could free himself from the Elf's grasp.
"Ok then. Leaving the staff laying in the sand then, I assume. If that fucking thing starts to rot from the moisture you're forking out for the replacement." Irritably shaking his arm, trying dejectedly to free himself from Hamiel's grasp. "You could at least do me the favour of acting like that hurt, you know. It's only polite." A sharp crease was forming between the man's bushy eyebrows, and his mouth was a hard line behind the sunny beard. The man's adrenaline-fuelled panic was becoming stronger and stronger, and something dark was stirring behind his eyes, the emerald green slowly deepening in colour to a pale gold. Wali's breathing was erratic, deep breaths followed by shallow inhales and accompanied by a slight shaking in his frame.
Absently, the paladin reached up and brushed back his hood, sweeping the dark fabric back over his ears and the curling chaos of his riotous auburn hair. It was shaggy, roughly cut with little concern for overall neatness-curly hair was forgiving in that way, especially given the thickness of it-and carelessly dragged back into a short tail at the back of his neck to keep the majority of it out of his eyes. A few stubborn sections had escaped their tie, as they always did, lending to his visage a slightly rakish cast. "I like to avoid being picked up by rapey elves," he offered jovially, one long, faintly sunburned ear twitching, reminiscent of a feline's ear flattening after a conspicuous noise. "Unfortunately the only elves big and bold-and dumb-enough to consider raping me are night elves, and I'm sorry to say I'm not at all attracted to the idea of getting my technicolour freak on. I like my partners to be a lot more... pink." In the span of that momentary pause, an opportunist had thrown wide the switches of realization within his dense skull. The priest was several of his favourite things-short and blonde, feisty and fair, small and prone to grousing in the most adorable of ways-and it took all of his effort to contain the slew of positively -lewd- and ungentlemanly come-ons that swelled in his mind. He certainly failed at containing other unseemly swells; it was probably fortunate that his armour did a fair job of concealing the rapidly growing problem between his legs, the last thing he needed was to scare the white-robed little princess with his admittedly impressive turgid cockflesh.
He had been staring. And oh, what a horrible statement to have fallen silent after. He cleared his throat, the deep rumble of it more like a growl than anything else, and offered, "I'll tell you why I was up this way if you tell me what you're doin' around here first. I'll wager yours is far more interesting."
"I was stopping stupid cunts like that Orc from braining my comrades. Big fucking hurrah, look what it achieved." Grumbling, the man stood, staking his staff into the ground and leaning against it. "You didn't get yourself hurt did you? I'm required by oath to heal you if you need it, so whatever reason you appear to be clenching around your thighs, out with it. Ligament damage? Tear a hamstring?" Sighing, the man removed his tattered glove, flexing his fingers before advancing towards the Elf. The priest squatted down beside Hamiel, hiking up his robe to just below his knees, revealing the sleek black boots than clung to his legs. The bottoms were stained with blood and dirt, and the buckles were beginning to rust from long-term exposure to the ocean air.
It was decisions like this that truly tested the mettle of a man-did he want to smoothly play it off as nothing, or did he want rape for breakfast? His fel-polluted gaze flickered over the priest's legs and he was reminded of just how much he enjoyed spreading the supple, thrashing limbs of short, squirming things just like the blonde before him now. It was just as well; it had been a while since he'd had breakfast, consensual or otherwise. "Nothing quite so dire," he rumbled cryptically to forestall more harrying. With a great deal of well-feigned reluctance, he shed his gloves, cloak, and weapons belt, setting his thick fingers to undoing latches and clasps-all under the guise of cooperating with the nice medic and exposing whatever "injury" he'd acquired. "How long have you been a healer?" he asked, his curiosity piqued by the mention of oaths.
Waliurn rolled his eyes as Hamiel began to remove the clothing covering his apparent injury. He tutted his head to the side, before grunting; "Six years thereabouts. Long enough to fix a caved in chest, short enough that I still have all my hair and roguish good looks..." Chuckling to himself and grinning, the priest's eyes stared off into the distance, lost in thought. "Our prime responsibility it to protect those in need, guide them and heal them when they are under duress. You're not told until later that they expect you to watch men die if they don't fight on the same side as you. They tell you that after you're assigned..." Leaning forward, the man studied Hamiel's face. "Hurry up with that leg, squatting in the sand isn't exactly comfortable."
Oh Light, he was just too precious. Quickly enough, he divested himself of most of the armour protecting his thighs and middle-latching plates lay in a rough pile with chain-tacked leather, a well cared for collection. As the priest's attention returned to Hamiel, however, he decided that what he'd removed thus far would have to suffice.
As he finished his impatient admonishment, the ruddy-skinned blood elf struck, grappling the fair-haired human to his back. With practiced ease, he reached under the smaller man's ass and slid his hand along the back of his thigh, pulling upwards and ruining the little thing's balance as he dragged him closer. At the same time, he reached for the man's shoulder and upper arm again, grabbing him and holding tightly to the captured limb, softening a backward fall that might have otherwise resulted in a nasty knock to an already abused head and neck. He wasted no time in crawling atop the blonde, settling his rear lightly over the human's hips with disconcerting levels of confidence-he had done enough of this sort of thing to be a fair hand at it, and as big as he was, his body made a damn fine paperweight.
"They also don't tell you your hair and roguish good looks are liable to get you nabbed for spoils of war," he commented casually, looking down his long nose at the white-clad priest's supine form. With long, sword-callused fingertips, he examined the coarse fabric the man wore and continued, "I recommend playing along nicely. A lot less damage to you and your pretty dress that way." Though his words might have been threatening and even faintly insulting, there was nothing but good-natured kindness in his tone-even the grin he wore was pleasant, wholly inappropriate for what he implied.
"What the... Fuck?!" The priest tried to rise as Hamiel roughly pulled him to the ground. This merely threw him further off balance, tumbling to the ground with ease. As the Elf straddled his hips, Wali could sense the man's arousal; firmness could be seen in the folds of his loincloth-like clothing. Another deep-seated panic rose in the man, not strong enough to trigger his transformation, but enough to prevent him from summoning any great strength. The man attempted to perform the same trick he had earlier, but with even less success. All he managed to do was make his palms sweaty, scrabbling and sliding against the other mans skin. "What the fuck? I thought you weren't fond of rapey elves?" Waliurn slowly ceased his struggling, realising that he wasn't accomplishing anything of worth with it. Stilling his body, he simply stated up at the other man, eyes dark, but still green. The man's robes were drawn tight across his body, trapped by Hamiel's knees. The front, which had been held shut with buttons, was stretched wide, with the small metal bulbs almost being tugged out of their sockets. The smaller mans chest was just barely visible, muscle with a moderate amount of definition, covered with light blonde hair. The front of the robe was under stress of snapping, and beneath it the man only wore a loincloth, to prevent the priest from overheating during battle.
As the human struggled, Hamiel saw to removing the rest of his armour, setting aside heavy spaulders and leaving himself in only his thin, quilted underpinnings-hot in the jungle, but necessary to keep his plate from digging into his flesh. He peeled the sweat-dampened fabric from his chest and tossed it away as well; bare, he was a sight to behold, more of that coarse auburn hair bristling over his broad, bulky chest, tapering to a wide trail down past his navel. Every bit of him was heavily muscled, freckled and ruddy and horribly, horribly strong, a few long healed scars decorating an otherwise enviable physique. Yet there was a chunkiness to all of him, a great deal of muscle with just the right touch of fat beneath his sun worn hide to cushion an otherwise boulder-like form.
The heavy bulge that rested against the priest's belly stretched the fabric of his flimsy pants, threatening to rip his own plain buttons from their threaded anchors; the engorged thing beneath was thick, well-suited to his impressive frame, and almost absently, he rubbed a hand against it, his expression showing a mere hint of the enjoyment he got not only from touching himself but also from the position of power he held over the smaller man-even if he was being a jerk about how he took that power. "I'm not," he answered simply, shifting minutely to free a caught edge of the blonde's robe. "Why would one rapey elf be fond of others? It's not like... like a hobby you can make friends over and share with other people. I mean, I -could-, but that's sort of unappealing too. Especially for the guy getting raped, you wouldn't want five of me fucking you." Occasionally, strange and awkward ideas were rattled out of his skull, and usually, those ideas fell out of his mouth without a second thought.
Waliurn's eyes shot up and down the other man's body, his mind registering that in a different situation he would have been drooling after this man, flirtatious remarks and seductive body language running rampant at this fine elfish specimen. "You are straddling my hips, palming an erection and babbling about the merits of befriending someone who shares a similar interest in molesting people." The man was calm, not calm in the tea-by-a-poolside sense, but calm in a this-fucking-situation-would-not-be-improved-by-fr eaking-the-fuck-out.
The Priest's calm state allowed him to register one thing; this man was clearly not intent on hurting him in the process. In a detached, far-off section of his mind, Waliurn considered that, really, he could be worse off. The man atop him was attractive, handsome, even. A stirring of lust at the sight of a tightly straining erection, pressing against the satiny fabric, tingled at the base of the man's spine. His eyes glared, the dark pupils slightly dilated as blood rushed to his member, engorging it. A great desire to run his hands over the Elf's chest rose up within Waliurn, and the man gritted his teeth in an effort to resist the urge.
"Not befriending," he corrected. Why was this an important point to make? "The merits lie in the not-befriending of other rapists. 'Course, you're the one with the rapey subtext; I'm just here for the ride." As far as horrible figures of speech went, even with the taunting roll of his hips-ha, he could feel the priest's dick swelling against his own ass, no amount of struggling the blonde could do would discourage him now-he had definitely uttered far more groan-worthy things in his time. Not that he was through. Hell, he probably even had a few terrible puns tucked away somewhere.
With gentle hands, he began unbuttoning the coarse white robe presently blocking his view of the priest's body; the downy blonde hairs upon his chest were teasing the paladin, each and every damn one of them. To say he had a weakness for blondes would be a gross understatement-over the past century and change he'd been taking folk for tumbles, men and women both, the vast majority of them had been blondes. Small, often mouthy, and fair of face and hair; there was nothing wrong with having a type! He paused as he reached the last button he could unfasten without rising from the green-eyed priest's hips and ran one hand back up the man's chest, a pleased smile tugging at his ruddy lips behind the soft reddish bristles of his beard. "It could be worse," he reasoned. "You could still be dancing with that orc."
Waliurns eyes narrowed; "Yes, yes I could. A good point well made." The man was prey to his body's desires like all men, and the insistent hands and handsome visage of their owner was doing much to convince the Priest to go along with it. Only a shred of the man's self-control was left. It had been far too long since he indulged in the company of another, and the prospect was an attractive one.
As the smaller man debated engaging or not, his body was already betraying him. The man's cock was fully engorged, the stiff, warm flesh pressing against the front of his robe, just beneath where Hamiel had places his fingers. The blonde treasure trail that led into his undergarments flared slightly before disappearing behind the hem, and a darker patch of damp red was forming at the tip of the man's erect cock.
For all that he considered himself a decent paladin, a good man minus a few small personality defects; he also had an awful lot of devil in him. He leaned in closer to the fair-haired priest, close enough to rub the tip of his nose against Waliurn's, mischief hiding in plain sight behind lowered lashes; beneath the fel glow that tainted his race's eyes, his irises were a hard, slate-like gray, endlessly expressive of amusement like those of some long forgotten horned forest god.
His left hand ended up resting on the sandy ground beside the priest's shoulder. His other sought out one of the smaller man's hands and drew it up to his chest. With a great deal of patience, he slid the green-eyed thing's palm from his collarbone down to his hard, auburn-dusted pectoral, pausing to rub at the sensitive peak of his nipple before moving the human's comparatively smaller hand down to the rounded ridges of muscle gracing his abdomen. "An even more horrifying thought-I could be dancing with the orc. Isn't that awful?" There was a very clear direction his assisted self-groping was taking; indeed, after a few moments of forcing the little blonde to admire his middle, he found himself rubbing that captive hand against the cloth-covered bulge of his manhood, the outline of his bulbous cockhead able to be felt, hot and faintly damp with both sweat and pre, through the material of his underpinnings. He watched the other man's eyes carefully for reluctance, for panic, for fear-he was correct in his surmise that Hamiel intended him no harm. There was far more satisfaction to be gained from treating him kindly, the paladin reasoned.
Waliurn's hand was like a doll's, it had no life of its own as the other man drew his hand down his haired chest, fingers trailing over the auburn curls and firm flesh. As they dropped to the Elf's abdomen, the man's hand twitched. Gone was the reluctance, and the Priest began to actively engage in the action; fingers opening and stroking and feeling. He pressed his palm flat against the Paladin, the heat seeping through the flesh only inciting his lust for the feel of the other man. Any remaining inhibition was thrown to the wind as his guided hand closed over the larger male's erection. Fingers curled around and squeezed, the damp, hot feeling kicking the man's lust into full swing.
All the while, Waliurn's eyes were fixed on the other males, face unmoving as a foreign nose pressed against his own. When the guided hand wrapped around the engorged and leaking cock, the soft-lipped mouth fell open slightly, a quivering pink tongue dipping out to moisten his lips. The smaller mans grasping hand twisted and tugged gently, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the leaking tip. A strangled, near-choking noise gurgled out of Wali's throat, clearly caused by the overwhelming sensation of grasping the impressive, aroused member.
Hamiel grinned, dipping lower to steal a kiss from the priest's soft little mouth-a surprisingly chaste kiss, lasting but a moment before he withdrew, glancing down at Waliurn's hand wrapped around his own impatiently waiting dick. "You know you wanna undo the buttons," he coaxed, his gaze returning to meet the little blonde's vivid green eyes. He gave the hand eagerly pulling and rubbing his manhood a firm squeeze, a wordless "stay there", and slipped his fingers under the white robe still scattered around the priest's fair form. His hip, his side, his shoulder-all of his body was Ham's to grope and fondle, those were the perks of accosting smaller people, they were ridiculously easy to manhandle. He palmed the human's flesh eagerly as though he'd never felt such a fine hide, trailing lighter, almost innocent kisses from the edge of Waliurn's jaw to the junction of his neck and shoulder-he was as much of a tease as he was a meat headed brute, it seemed. There was little he liked better than fair, willing little blondes; that he seemed to have the priest's willingness, his eager, hungry desire, pleased him to no end. Soft chills shook the length of his spine as a pleasant, needy throbbing pooled in his loins-want, want that had gone long neglected.
Waliurn shuddered, both from the short pressing of lips and the soft kisses that were laid about his neck. The man released a shaky breath; "Fuckin' hell, can't just... rip the fuckin' thing can you?" His eyes briefly glanced downwards, and the sight of his nimble fingers wrapped around the still-clothed erection was truly an erotic visual. Pushing past the hem of the Elf's loincloth, he reached inside and cupped the throbbing organ, wet at the tip from leakings of pre.
The Priest bared his neck in a gesture of submission, an awkward and strange display of wantonness from the man, but willing all the same. While his right hand explored the other mans privates, his left shot up to stroke along the well-defined auburn pectorals, fingers tracing along the hard lines and soft nipples. After a moment, the hand snaked around Hamiel's neck, twining into the soft curls and pulling the other man closer.
Chuckling merrily the paladin snapped playfully back, "You rip my underpinnings and I'll send you back to the Alliance stark naked, so help me." As Waliurn made clear his submission to the brawny elf, he allowed his kisses to grow more ardent, to the point he was making soft crooning and growling sounds as he took large mock-bites, scraping his long elven fangs against the other's delicate neck; the priest was in no danger of being mauled, Hamiel was careful to temper his bites so as not to leave bruises or break skin, but the nigh frenzied intimation of roughness sent tingles throughout the auburn haired elf's ample form.
He was careful too not to allow his weight to rest fully on the smaller man. He knew he was fucking heavy, thick and dense everywhere imaginable, and while subjugating the wanton little human was certainly at the top of his to-do list, crushing his torso was not. Crumpled, gasping, probably bleeding dudes weren't all that attractive to the broad-shouldered mook. With a great deal of careful manoeuvring, he managed to divest the priest of his garment's sleeves, letting him lie back on the cloth as one of Ham's meaty hands explored his shoulder and arm, tightly squeezing his fair flesh as he slid along his bicep. A happy groan issued from his throat as he accosted the smaller man's collarbones and worked his way down to the top of one pectoral, leaving a trail of slobbery bites in his wake as he rubbed his bearded chin against the softer, downy blonde hairs gracing his chest. "Tiny things are fucking adorable."
Waliurn laughed breathily; "Rip my robe and I'll burn that little cock-sling off, so you'll have your dick rubbing against your armour all the way back to Garrosh." As the Elf explored his arm and torso, Wali's eyes slowly shut; overtaken by the feeling of near-worship that the other man was inspiring. The soft marks of the Paladin's teeth along his neck and arm seared like fire, his body twisting, muscles tensing in his anticipation. "I take offence to tiny, you know. I prefer 'Vertically challenged.'" Chuckling softly, the man's hands returned to their work, slowly stroking up the larger males cock, fingers sliding and working the turgid flesh.
The hand that was twined into Hamiel's hair tensed as it descended, and the smaller males hand slipped out of the hot confines of the red loincloth. Mourning its loss, Wali attempted to subtly bring the now-empty hand to his mouth, sliding the dampened digits past his tongue, tasting the other mans arousal on them. The smell was intoxicating, male musky scent mixed with distinct saltiness. He grunted, removing the fingers from his mouth before uttering; "Fuck, I should have jumped you sooner. All rape-y tendencies aside, I'd usually be on my knees already. Don't get me wrong, being held down and accosted by a burly Blood Elf is sexy and all, so please don't stop on my account..."
There was nothing quite as nice as the hungry gaze of a pretty blonde thing. With a great deal of patience, Hamiel's hands moved to cradle the priest's head, his callused digits weaving into the human's wild golden locks and gripping softly-he was not one to yank at his lovers' hair, that shit hurt. Soft pulling was the way to go. He drew the smaller man's face to his groin, lightly grinding his loins against Waliurn's fair face. A little groan rumbled in his chest, and he worried at the inside of his lower lip with a pointy elven fang-anticipation, as well as a great overwhelming desire to do everything he could possibly do to the young priest at once, tormented his muscle-bound form as he relished the feeling of rubbing his manhood against the human's face, drowning him in the hot, musky scents of his sweat and pre and a faint hint of cinnamon from the last time he'd given his broad body a good scrub. Quite literally everything about him spoke of that burnt red colour to which he seemed so terribly predisposed.
Waliurn opened his mouth eagerly, a pink tongue reaching out, trying to taste the other mans prick. He took a deep breath, before quickly pushing his head forward, closing his moist lips over the throbbing cock. The man's eyes shut; mind lost in the ecstasy of flavour and sensation. The Priests' tongue swirled around the exposed cockhead, slowly gliding over the leaking tip to taste the salty liquid seeping from it. A deep groan rumbled up the smaller males throat, sending gentle vibrations down the other mans shaft as Wali sucked fiercely, trying to draw the Elf's handsome member further into his mouth.
He was patient with the eager little priest, pleased with his enthusiasm and possessed of enough restraint to keep him from simply fucking the smaller man's throat-for now. His thick, fuzzy thighs tensed as he rocked his hips back and forth involuntarily, minute twitching motions unlikely to cause the blonde much, if any, distress. Hell, as hungrily as he was going after the paladin's meaty rod, he was probably one of those rare gems who actually liked having thick cocks shoved down his throat. Hamiel's speculations were cut short as he peered down at the shorter man, at his big hands cradling the little thing's head and neck; he ran a thumb over the delicate pink shell of one of his decidedly human ears and smiled fondly, his face luridly flushed in the shaded morning-lit clearing. Mistakes with fortunate outcomes were his favourites. "Can you take it all?" he breathed, his tone coaxing and playful-the idea of the priest's blonde-bearded face willingly pressed flush to auburn curls and hot, ruddy elven skin had him all sorts of bothered, the rapidly pooling lust in his loins roiling fiercely.
Waliurn's shoulders shook with lust at the other males hoarse words. Without removing the Elf's cock from his mouth, he simply nodded fiercely and continued his ministrations on the Paladin's manhood. The blonde mans' own prick was straining, leaking against the tight fabric that bound his groin.
The Priest bought his hands up to the Elf's thighs and arse cheeks, raking his fingers over the firm mounds and sliding his palms firmly down the beefy thighs, pulling inward slightly. Gliding his hands back up Hamiel's arse, he hooked his fingers gently into the supple flesh and pulled with greater force, urging the auburn-haired Elf further inside his awaiting mouth.
Little more encouragement was needed. Without hesitation, Hamiel gripped the priest's wild, tousled blonde mane and gently slid his girthy prick down into the heated, satiny confines of the younger man's throat. The tight, slick flesh swaddling his cock was made only more slick by the copious precum leaking, salty and faintly sweet, into the human's eager little throat. A fine sheen of sweat was drawn from his flushed hide, beading and rolling down his rugged frame, matting the coarse auburn hair bristling all over him. His muscles slid smoothly beneath his skin, tensing and rippling beneath Waliurn's grasping fingertips-there was plenty of him to hold onto, and truth be told he was awfully fond of pretty blonde things anchoring themselves to him with a firm grip on his ass. Occasional soft grunts escaped him, small whines and breathless croons, but little else; he had never been one to narrate his sexual encounters, and the more pleasure he felt, the harder it became for him to make sounds. In this case, Wali was the cat that so skilfully captured his tongue-a vague, silly thought struck him: did kitten really suit him, in terms of endearments? Not that he'd be keeping the human long enough for endearments to become a thing. Random sex with enemy strangers was nice and all, but probably not worth going AWOL over. Ham knew he was good, but not -that- good.
Waliurn moaned deeply around the wide, lengthy cock that slowly pushed and slid past his tongue, the leaking cockhead pushing firmly against the back of his throat before inching its way slowly down the blonde mans throat. The feeling of his throat being so wholly full, the difficulty in breathing and the overwhelming scent of the other man that was assaulting his nostrils shutting down conscious thought in its entirety. The smaller male swallowed powerfully around the Elf's cock, the muscles in his throat tensing and sliding around the throbbing manhood.
The sun-haired Priest's hands gripped harder, pulling with a much firmer force on the thick, hair-dusted cheeks. He pushed his neck forward with more strength, eager to have the larger males balls flush with his chin.
Hamiel was reluctant to ascribe "cock-hungry" to many he encountered, but the term was perfectly apt for the eagerly suckling priest. He ground his loins against the smaller man's face, big hands pulling lightly at that fine blonde hair as a rumbling whine caught in his throat. If he was this enthusiastic about sucking Hamiel's meaty dick, how would he react to being fucked by it? That thought in and of itself caused another few drops of pre to roll from his crown; the paladin rocked his hips back and forth, not enough to properly thrust into the human's tight, shivering throat, but enough to probably tease him to madness if he continued.
Abruptly, he gripped the priest's hair tighter and held him still as he pulled his cock from the hot, wet silk of the smaller man's throat. He was struck breathless at the sight of his manhood leaving the man's mouth, a thin bridge of saliva hanging for a moment between his head and the other's reddened lower lip before breaking. He removed a hand from Waliurn's hair and with a single fingertip; he lifted his thick, thoroughly slimed prick and presented his hairy balls to the other, pulling his head closer as a wordless hint.
Waliurn went to his task with gusto, his wet, saliva-covered lips softly drawing one warm orb into his mouth and sucking gently. The smaller male's eyes upturned, green orbs boring into the Elf's fel-tinted eyes as he lewdly slipped the other fuzzy ball into his mouth. One of the exploring hands that were more than at home gripping onto the Paladin's firm arse winded its way back across the thigh, fingers tracing delicate patterns over the auburn-dusted groin and inner thigh.
With a wet, obscene pop, Waliurn let a single orb fall from his mouth, drenched in saliva that was slowly matting in the burnt red hairs that coated them. The other followed soon after, before the smaller male's mouth latched over the base of Hamiel's upheld manhood. A firm kiss turned into the man's tongue languidly caressing the bottom of the Paladin's shaft.
Fel-tinted slate bored back into vivid jade with grinning fervour. Pretty, blonde, -and- obedient? What a catch the little human was. His eyes half-lidded with lust, he let the heavy hammer of his manhood fall, booping the priest's fair brow with the damp-skinned organ as he continued to worship Hamiel's cock-he was incapable of acting like a serious adult even in the most intense of moments, it seemed.
His hands roamed freely over Wali's head and shoulders, thick fingers kneading softly here and there, sometimes combing to order the disarray he had caused in his lovely golden hair. "You're going to have to roll over," he stated matter-of-factly, want written plainly on his features, though not want for the eager man's supple little mouth. "I won't be cruel to you. Promise." There was an earnest sort of sincerity in his words-there was little that turned him off more than a miserable partner, and as big and inadvertently rough as he was, he had to be careful to avoid causing said misery.
A surge of lust rolled through the Priests body at the mere insinuation of having that leaking, sizeable cock sliding inside of him. Only too eager to comply, the small blond man's hands pushed at Hamiel's abdomen, sliding himself out from beneath the Elf's legs. On his knees, he fully divested himself of his robes, briefly laying them out beneath him before lowering himself onto all fours, obscenely arching his back and pointing his supple, blonde-haired arse at the other man.
Well. That was easy. Hamiel too freed himself of the remaining fabric bunched around his knees and cast it aside, returning his attention to the lewd little priest's ass post-haste. There simply were not words to convey the possessive manner in which his hands fell upon that eagerly presented rear, his heavy hands each grasping a blonde-fuzzed cheek and kneading roughly, parting the priest's ass and revealing his tiny, soon to be stretched and ravaged hole. He dug his fingers into firm, graspable, succulent flesh, growling appreciatively at the perfect balance of firmness and give, pleased by the textures of soft, supple skin and fine, fair hair. Absently, he spat at the exposed little hole, without further travail rubbing his spittle into the soft, sensitive pucker with his broad thumb.
Waliurn's body tensed as the other man laid his hands almost passionately against his arse. Firm strokes encouraged the smaller male to softly gyrate his hips in time with the motions. The warm wet saliva that landed on his hole elicited a small groan from the man, and the rough thumb-pads that followed turned the small moan into a low growl.
The fair-haired man began to slowly grind his hips in a vertical motion, with only the slightest movement, but enough to encourage the teasing thumb further inside of him. With each small push, the man's low-hanging sac swayed forward, and then backwards, with the head of his engorged cock just visible beneath it. The Priest's eyes were shut; slow, shallow breaths pushing past his still-wet lips as he prepared, and anticipated what was soon to come.
Gently, the paladin pressed his thumb into the tight entrance with which he was presented, his other hand moving to Wali's trim little waist and pulling him back, flush against the burly elf's loins. He rubbed his dick against the fuzzy, rounded curve of his all too willing captive's ass cheek, biding his time as he toyed with the puckered hole that was soon to play host to his turgid cockflesh. He was patient as he worked his thumb into the priest's rear-though when it became clear one digit comfortably stretched the tight ring of muscle there, he withdrew his thumb and slobbered on two fingers instead, then slowly forced them into the priest in the same way. He was too thick to just shove into the smaller man without preparing him, eager and cooperative as he was being. His other hand slid up Waliurn's side and made its way up to his chest; he pulled the man up to his knees as he fingered him, arching over to meet him halfway and plant more rough kisses over his shoulders and the nape of his neck. "You loud, tiny thing?" he asked, teasing in the endearment but genuinely curious about the priest's level of sex-noise-passionate cries were one thing, howling was something entirely different.
The blonde-haired Priest's entire frame shook as the other male's thick digit slid slowly into his hole. In his lust-filled state, even this relatively simple act triggered a loud moan. The sudden loss of pressure elicited yet another moan, although for entirely different reasons. His mourning was short lived however, as the larger Elf pulled him up as he re-entered him. Waliurn leant back against him, the muscles in his arse tensing fiercely as his body moved into the more intimate position. The smaller male twisted his neck to one side, the moist tongue and warm breath sending a shiver down his neck and straight to his cock. In the sections of his mind not filled with hazy lust, Wali's respect for the man grew- he was grateful for the careful preparation that he was so enjoying; a sudden intrusion by the man's hefty manhood would certainly have spoiled his enjoyment.
Wali's eyes flicked towards Hamiels; "Depends. If you do your job properly, you might be surprised..." With a small chuckle and a smile, his eyes fluttered shut again as the Elf's fingers brushed against his prostate.
Hamiel trailed more kisses up the delicate line of his neck and paused for a few moments, suckling at the priest's earlobe and nibbling at the hard pink shell of his ear. "Just don't howl like a mad thing. Last thing we need is an interruption," he breathed softly, thoroughly enjoying acquainting his mouth with the sensitive skin of Waliurn's neck. He enjoyed the tightness of the human's little hole too-as responsive as he was, it was almost a pleasure to take his time fingering the moaning, whimpering thing. When he found the rough bump of his prostate, the thick-fingered blood elf harassed the ever-living fuck out of it, rubbing spittle-slick fingertips against it in a gentle, almost worshipful manner, temporarily distracted from his goal of stretching the fair-haired priest's ass enough to begin working his own pre- and slobber-moistened prick inside.
Waliurn nodded in agreement, resolving to keep his own cries to a lower volume. The sheer closeness of their bodies was incredibly arousing for the young blonde male. The heat of another man's body, the hair that covered his chest rubbing over the Priests smooth, supple back. Waliurn's body temperature was rising, his skin hot in comparison to the otherwise dismally cold ocean air. Small whimpers escaped from his mouth every time the Elf prodded and poked at the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside him.
Twisting his head back, the smaller males mouth opened in a half whimper, his green eyes barely visible behind the eyelids. An unspoken need for the other mans mouth on his own was evident; Wali craved Hamiel's taste on his tongue.
He was a delight to toy with, this priest-so obedient and obliging, so eager to please and be given affection. Hamiel was all too happy to indulge him. He eased into kissing the fair-haired human, at first simply brushing his lips against the blonde-bearded man's hungry mouth and then pressing brief, teasing kisses into the moistened, ruddy flesh of his lips, his bristling auburn facial hair rough against the soft skin of the priest's face.
Eventually, he felt it might be safe to replace his fingers with something more substantial. He withdrew gently, pausing in his taunting treatment of the blonde's mouth to apply more spittle to his fingers and add a little more wetness to his pre- and slobber-glazed cock. He leaked copious amounts of precum, so much that it dripped in clear, bubbly beads down the veined meat of his shaft and left slick, wet smudges where it was rubbed against Waliurn's fuzzy ass cheek. He rubbed the thoroughly slimy crown of his member against the priest's pink little hole, his hand moving from the human's chest to his hip to steady him-he would need steadying: even after molesting the blonde's entrance with his fingers, his cock was still a very girthy thing to take. His gaze was turned downward as he watched the captivating sight of his manhood slowly, ever so slowly; make progress in squeezing inside the hot, silky confines of the priest's ass.
Waliurn pulled back as Hamiel slowly entered him, the man's mouth forming an almost comical 'oh' shape as the slick head of the Elf's cock slid into him. Supported as he was by the other mans strong arms, he was saved from falling forward onto his hands as he was slowly penetrated, the bodily feedback being enough to leave the small blonde priest both breathless and boneless. Tight muscles tensed around the hefty intrusion, fighting the inevitable, but slow stretching the man's arse. Eager to begin in full, Waliurn gently pushed back onto the larger males cock, and it slid in with more force and speed. The man reached behind, grasping onto Hamiel's hip and pulling with what meagre force he could muster in such a powerless position.
The large presence inside of him was torturous for Waliurn; the feeling of being filled, and by such a large member was intoxicating, but his needy desire for motion and -friction- and the sensation of Hamiel bottoming out inside of him. A soft whimper tumbled out of the blonde's lips, wordless and husky as his reddened, stretched hole neared the bottom of the Paladin's shaft.
As the little blonde sought to take more of Hamiel's cock than he had expected so soon, the paladin chided him, crooning half-hearted admonishments for him to be careful, be sensible, for him not to hurt himself-and yet, he made no effort to stop the priest from his efforts. As fantastic as the human's reddened little hole felt stretching around the thick meat of his shaft, he was far from wanting to hinder the man's inexorable slide; hell, he facilitated it, pressing ever inward, determined to hold the man's supple ass flush against his hairy loins, to feel his own heavy ball sack squishing against the priest's blonde-haired taint.
With one hand on his hip and the other free to snake back up to his chest, Hamiel kneaded at the young human's flesh, continuing to trail kisses over his shoulder and neck. As he came close to his goal of fitting his entire length inside the priest's searing depths, he gave the little thing the kisses he had been yearning for, hoping to distract him via his mouth as, in one inelegant thrust, he bottomed out in the younger man's tight ass. He held him there, ravaging his eager little mouth with nibbling, suckling kisses, and with his other hand he found the human's thus far neglected manhood, dragged his fingers through the kinky blonde hair it nestled in before rubbing his callused palm over its engorged length.
The Priests' mouth twitched into a small grin as he got his wish; Hamiel slid into him at a faster pace, the slick organ disappearing into the man's fuzzed hole. Any spikes of pain were buffered by the Elf's fingers gripped and tugged at the flesh of his chest, drawing lines of fire over his pale, damp torso. The man bottomed out on the larger male's balls at the moment their two lips met, Hamiel taking an immediate dominant role as his tongue near-forced its way into his captive-not-captive's mouth. A gasp as the auburn-haired god wrapped a strong hand around his erection, and Hamiel began passionately taking the man's mouth; hard bites and a softly trailing tongue.
Hamiel held the smaller man curved against his broad, bulky body, gazing into his vivid green eyes and licking the soft, fair blonde's lips and tongue, suckling at the tip of his tongue and his lower lip, even daring to lightly bite his lip and ever so gently pull back. His head was full of the cottony, ephemeral haze of lust; it made it hard to think clearly, each moment disconnected from the next as his consciousness flickered between the heady sensation of making the priest's pleased little mouth his and the supple, gratifying feeling of squeezing his soft skin, of pinching his pink nipples, of digging his fingers into his firm pectoral muscle and kneading-and of course the ever present hot, constricting silk of Wali's tight little ass wrapped around his dick wasn't helping to clear his head at all. After a few moments he gave an experimental pull and gently shoved his meaty, aching rod back inside, testing the gasping blonde's readiness for more. He was kind, and he was understanding, but there were just things Hamiel needed-rutting the priest into the ground was one of them.
The Priest's eyes shot open as the Elf carefully withdrew from his stretched hole, only to twitch back to their half-lidded state when he felt the thick shaft pushing into him moments later. Even the slight increase in friction sent Wali's libido into overdrive, the man gyrated his hips forward before pushing back firmly, Hamiel's hefty manhood stretching the smaller males hole obscenely. Wali's cock twitched sporadically as it bobbed in the air, pre dripping slowly down his not-unimpressive member. The man's balls were already drawn close, the blonde-haired sac pulling up as Wali's body neared its climax, already pushed near the brink by the Elf's sexual torture.
The blonde man grunted; "Fucking get to it already, if you -do- manage to break something it's an easy fix if you-" With every word punctuated by a forceful twitch of hips; "-Just. Fucking. Do it."
He was lucky he could maintain an erection while laughing-and laugh he did, the shaking of the muscles of his pelvic floor causing his cock to twitch inside the mouthy priest. "Pardon me for not wanting to hurt you, you tiny little slut," he teased before giving another, harder, thrust, the slap of his loins against Waliurn's ass sharp in the quiet clearing. He shifted his hands to the blonde's hips and proceeded to rock slowly back and forth into him, mindful of the angle at which he pumped his meaty rod into the demanding thing's tight little ass. He despised the idea of tearing the delicate, paper-thin tissues lining the inside of his greedy hole; spit, sweat, and even the ridiculous amounts of precum his dick oozed were unlikely to be enough to protect the poor thing's constricting passage if he drove the paladin to fuck him the way Hamiel thought he wanted to be fucked-that was, roughly and relentlessly, judging by the way even a little friction led him to grinding that fuzzy blonde ass against Ham's bristling loins. The sight of his thick cock entering and pulling from Wali's tight hole, his tender flesh dragging and sliding along the veiny shaft as he withdrew, sent a shiver down the blood elf's spine-it was -hot-, not just because the human was a hot little piece of ass, but also because he was a proud blood elf, seemingly subjugating a weak little human, only the weak little human was begging for it instead of cowering beneath his grinding heel. Hell, the "weak little human" had the paladin wrapped around his finger if truth was to be told; if he asked Hamiel to stop, for whatever reason, the burly paladin would, and if Wali told him to fuck him raw until he couldn't walk... he was probably going to do that anyway.
The moaning blonde priest chuckled; "It's alright, we all have our moments of madness..." Any further words were lost in the strangled yelp that Waliurn gave as the Elf's cock withdrew, then slammed home. Sliding the hand that was grasping at Hamiel's hip down towards his own arse, the man murmured several indistinct words, and left a small magical salve placed over the area; any tears would be instantly mended, and all pain would be numbed from Wali's own mind. The man didn't mind a rough lay, but would prefer to prevent any damage.
Struggling to force any sound from his throat other than quiet crooning, the smaller male eventually managed a husky whisper; "Fuck me into the ground." This was punctuated by a heavy roll of the hips in counterpoint to Hamiel's own powerful thrusting.
He felt the tingle of the priest's spell, the magic warm against his cock, and felt a momentary paranoid twinge of worry. But for a moment-gone as soon as it came, that touch of worry melted away, soothed by the gratifying sensation of burying his dick deep in the blonde's tight, supple ass. The longer Ham stayed inside him, the more relaxed and used to the paladin's thick cock he became, that much was simple physiology; in addition, the longer Hamiel teased him by holding back, by tempering is thrusts, by making slow and easy his strokes, the closer to madness Waliurn was driven. The brawny blood elf was fond of craven, lust-maddened little things, and the priest's present state-and his request, it sent palpable shivers down Ham's spine-pleased the bigger man to no end.
He placed a kiss on the priest's neck that rapidly turned into a messy, sucking, biting hickey. A signature, his name written in the marks of his teeth, the same as the many other little signatures that would be written all over Wali's body in the form of fingerprint smudge bruises and faint aches and twinges. As he came up from drawing up his suction bruise on the blonde's neck, in between apologetic kisses and rough, lapping licks, he growled, "Face down, ass up. If you want me to fuck you like you deserve." He could have just as easily pushed the human down, twisted his fuzzy little body into whichever positions he desired-yet, he liked this better, adding that bassy, commanding edge to his voice and giving the smaller man the illusion of choice, of options.
Waliurn hastened to obey, bending his head downwards so as to have his crown facing the ground. The Elf's turgid cock twisted about inside the smaller man as he assumed his new position. A low groan spilled from the blonde Priests mouth; "Fucking start already..." To emphasise his point, the man pushed backwards, burying the other mans cock to the hilt. The smaller males hand snaked down his torso, wrapping around his dangling, leaking prick and slowly stroking it. Small mewls of pleasure escaped the man's mouth as he fisted his manhood, his balls swinging gently with the motion. Tense, taut muscles gripped around the Paladin's cock as Wali rocked back and forth lustfully.