YURIA AMOURS: THE CARNAL COAGULATION OF TARIK AND TYRIS
By Quillon42
It was two days into the trek across the brazen, barren lands, the zealous allies engaging in a precarious campaign to avenge their parents who perished at the hands of a monster of a man whose name was the same as an evil snake, even though here its insidious influence was inexplicably rent in twain by an equals sign. For certain, it was Death Equals Adder, heretofore abbreviated by way of shorthand as "Death Adder," a primeval behemoth who was the target of two scantily clad savages, each aiming for the archenemy's own Golden Axe™ to be buried within the deeps of either his sternum or his skull.
Now, on the second evening of their ever so atavistic mission, the Ax Battler sometimes tagged as Tarik, as well as the Sword Siren called Tyris, settled down to rest amidst, they preparing the most anemic and ad hoc of encampments upon the gore-streaked ground. The barbarian trained his gaze down at legs stretched out long, he on his haunches and leaning forward just slightly enough for an easily-arousable slumber. One would never tell, after all, when those meddlesome misers would arrive, those pranksters with their sacks seeking to steal magic or at least sleep from the rough rangers, with the former's frenetic and insufferable antics.
Tarik tried so hard not to pilfer in turn, to take something which to him was infinitely more valuable than siesta or sorcery. Really, what was infinitely difficult to resist stealing were glances at the graceful and magnificent amazon with whom he shared this deadly trajectory. She lay there now, on the opposite side of the crackling, slowly expiring fire, Tyris resting on her side, her blood-hued boots pointed toward the cinders, her lovely flawless features facing away from her companion.
All the more alluring was the warrior while she engaged the enemy on the most turbulent of terms, the fierce femme brandishing her blade in a shimmering flourish as she whirled about and brought the weapon down upon the pate of one horned-helmeted foe, then leapt seeming stories into the ether only to drive down with her rabid rapier into the skull of a bald brute whose paltry headband could not hold back the lady's merciless melee.
While the Battler held his own during these same cruel skirmishes, he too doubtlessly contributing to the elaborate subtraction of primordial personnel from the Adder's army, Tarik's capacity for carnage was somewhat curtailed by the complication that was in fact his comely cohort. Verily, while the barbarian strode across these blood-blasted lands alongside Tyris, there were trices during which he could not tear his eyes from this maiden of massacre, the man transfixed by her beauty and her brutality all at once. How he wished in urgent earnest to have her dive from those same heaven heights upon his subjacent spire (sans his sapphire speedo of course).
In all frankness it was this which had kept Tarik awake at present, more than the anticipation of intervening elves, or the dread of the dawn to dash upon him imminently: just the fact that the most lethal and lovely lady he had ever lain eyes on was a thousandth of a klick away in actuality, yet at the same time a trillion kingdoms distant from him, across from the ebbing embers.
Strangely the air started to feel thicker, denser over the minutes ensuing; Tarik looked up at the evening airscape to see a herd of nimbuses rumbling abruptly in. Tyris for her part barely appeared to stir in her own serene, semi-prone state.
[RAKKA CRAKKA THOOOOOMMMMMM]
…
[RAKKA CRAKKA THOOOOOMMMMMM]
…
[WHSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS…]
Vengefully the torrent tore through, startling and shocking the pair as the weather wearied into the most daunting of downpours. Tarik took to his feet, he transfixed for an instant upon the heavily smothered, smoldering ashes before him. Wistfully the man wondered where the warmth would come from now…
"Damn."
Then looked up, noting that Tyris was standing now as well, still on the other side of the conquered campfire. She was as soaked to the skin as he, she sighing perturbedly down at the utter scarcity of what passed for her body armor, the amazon wondering absently for a moment whether what barely covered her chest and her virtue were liable to rust in this rain.
For a fleeting moment Tarik followed his companion's gaze, though not to the aforementioned metal accoutrements but rather to that which resided above, between, and below the two segments. To own the privilege of drying out her shower-doused bosom, her deluge-drenched stomach, her liquid-lathered legs with his lips, his tongue, his mouth…
Instinctively in the following beat, Tarik looked away just as Tyris began to focus her eyesight away from her own precipitation-pounded figure.
"Well, we're going to have to find shelter," she began, "lest we catch cold or worse."
Tyris could tell that the barbarian opposite her was already shivering. It was the fiery energy within herself that kept the lady herself from shaking in the miserable cold.
"This must be Gilius's doing," Tarik said. "He must have conjured up quite the thunder to take on the foes he's facing."
The amazon nodded, thinking of how the dwarf was vehement about taking another route, a shortcut to the Adder's abode, and how he wanted Flare and Battler to go the other possible way to rescue that many more villagers. She was about to point to a decrepit shack in the distance which might have been able to provide a roof over the both of them to an extent.
"I have an idea, Tyris."
…
…
…
It was the adrenalin flowing through Tarik which allowed him to employ his earth abilities to spawn that mound inside which he and his ally were encased, not ten minutes later. The soil surrounding was tough enough to withstand any attacks from outside, yet porous enough to allow air to flow in freely.
The space within was about ten by ten feet, enough for each of them to resume sleeping on his or her own. For her part, Tyris warmed the enclosed area with her own adrenalin-powered pyrokinesis, she heating the enclosure entirely, she providing the tender hearth to the temporary housing that the Ax Battler established.
Yet still the amazon noted, after reflecting a bit upon their predicament and its intuitive solution, that the barbarian lay quivering, if somewhat less so.
After squinching out the last of the moisture from her mahogany locks, Tyris gingerly walked over to the resting place of the other warrior. "You're still shaking, Tarik."
"I'll be fine.
"…
"You can just leave me be, Ty."
She shook her head in response, she settling down next to his supine form. Slowly, gently, the woman massaged the contours of the barbarian's azure boots, the latter feeling himself become tranquil from his toes to his heels as a supernatural heat spread outward from the lady's palms.
The sensation was more soothing than searing, and Tarik for certain felt far more of a burning within, this siren of his desire now in much closer proximity than she was when across from the kindling outside. Lightly Tyris's forefingers played upon the fighter's footwear, radiating calid coziness upon the man's person and his effects, yet nothing so manifest as to cause a fire to catch.
"…
"… …Ty…"
His voice was gravelly, wavering with fatigue in part, but Tyris could tell that something else also affected his inflection. She took her hand off his boot.
Another beat and Tarik glanced up to register the looming shape of the swordslady as she settled her supple form slowly, delicately, deliberately atop his own. "Be calm," she told him, as tranquilly as she could, "the body heat will make you better." Tyris settled down then, the amazon still clad in her own boots and her most minimal of linens as she lay the choice cache of her body atop his.
In actuality, the Battler could be anything but restful as of now. He nonetheless steeled himself more strongly that instant than he ever would against a herd of hateful Heningers, did all he could to keep his composure in the face of this sheer, utterly stimulating of situations.
One tense minute passed between them.
Then another.
Another.
"…
"…
"…You know…I sometimes catch myself staring at your ass in the thick of battle too."
Abruptly the eyes of Tarik opened wide.
"Pardon?"
"Oh, come on, Tarry. Don't act like you never looked."
She arced her fawnlike features up toward his, her calescent cocoa irises meeting his opaque onyx eyes.
"…I don'…" Tarik started, then stopped himself, as they both knew he did.
"Really it's a nice, firm rear you've got, Tar…a real juicy 'ax'…"
She then reached her hands down behind him and squeezed hard.
"…if you 'ax' me."
The obelisk contained within the man's undergarment could not be more sturdy at the moment.
Before Tarik could begin to reply, Tyris once more: "But you, my man…let me dramatize your own field of vision, out there on the battleground."
Her hands slipped out from behind the barbarian as she turned, a second later the man finding himself met with that which he'd indeed admired from afar…now fully up into his face.
Now with her most luscious fundament obscuring his features, she taunting him: "'I think I can see it now, Tyris! The Fanny's Path!'"
Then a "Yelp!" from the spirited miss, at the same pitch and tone as was shouted by the shin-nosing munchkins that mobbed the pair to nab from them while they napped. Tyris tossed chocolate tresses over a shoulder as she slapped back playfully at the man who just snapped the back of her tenuous thong.
She got up fully into Ax's savage grill as she settled lithe palms atop his biceps and a naughty grin played across her normally grim countenance. "You better be good, Tarra…any more tricks in here and I'm leaving, to go after Gilius…you think you can have your way with me, well, you can kiss my..."
In the course of the next few minutes within the mound, an amazon went from an entirely virgin existence, even sans smooches, to having a man's lips lay upon her body countless times. Tyris reveled in all of Tarik's initial oral caresses upon her most magnificent and rosiest of cheeks…then she was even gladder when her companion climbed up her figure to peck softly at the sides of her face.
Tyris thrust her fingers instantly downward, divesting her rustic compatriot of those cerulean underoos in a shake of a Chicken Leg's chrome-and-carnation tail. In the same set of seconds, Tarik scrabbled at fabric along the back of his mistress's upper torso.
"Careful there, 'Volcanic Magic'…my battle apparel gets torn up, even the effing Bad Brothers get to check something they'd never thought they'd ever see in the whole of their chubby, creaky-ass mortal coils.
"I want these Turtle Islands to be witnessed and visited only by you."
Deftly Ty threw her delicate hands behind her back, she undoing the threads of her battle brassiere so that the adhering ties remained intact, and not ripped apart like the most battened-upon bodice.
When Tarik saw that couple of imposing rounded escarpments emerge so auspiciously from the cloudbank of the temptress's top, he felt his intimate limb stiffen such that the man believed for an instant that he could lift Miss Flare aloft with it. Indeed, Tyris too, while in the embrace of her feral lover, suddenly felt herself almost hefted by him, buoyed up from the barren wasteland like no beast could ever boost her.
"I don't think I will ever get around to reaching your lips, Tyris," the barbarian blurted, he almost febrile from his arousal. He then mouthed heartily at the considerable adobe knoll nestled atop one of the abovementioned escarpments, then the other.
"It's noth…ahh…we have time, Tarry… … …with you, I'm in no hurry to save the world."
He kissed at the undersides of her boulderous breasts, then at the creamy plane of belly which was always exposed to all but never before tasted by any. He ran his stubbled face across the smoothness of her stomach, tongued her navel while he peeled off her girdle with trembling fingers. With calloused hands he cupped the milky velour cushions of her ass while he probed at her trove, its entrance adorned with bistre brush. The barbarian plundered the wares of that stygian store like no Cimmerian certainly ever could.
After a smattering of such sensations, Tyris pressed the palm of her dexterous hand against the fellow's face, shoving his head back against the floor of the mound. She then clambered atop the man and his stabilized lance, she tossing her arms above her head, the beauteous balrog behemoths of her breasts blaring out firmly, fully at her lover as she rode him readily. To be sure, Tyris would never mosey on the mane of any Mirigore, never amble on the back of any Abrax, never lope on the length of any Lynth…never, the way she now jaunted atop the totality of Tarik.
Feverishly the two coursed together, the employing the most ardent of teamwork, they pooling their earth and fire magicks to convert their mound into the most molten and visceral of volcanoes…
…
…
…
Not even the awesomest of intervening dragon's heads, summoned by an intercontinental conglomeration of cobalt bottles, could emulate the fervency of the magma coagulating between this pair of primitive paladins turned passionate paramours.
…
…
…
In the ensuing days, Tarr and Ty would continue to spend the sunlight shredding up the acolytes of their archenemy, while coming together anew in the moonlight to make a leaden lust that would eventually, through the alchemy of their intense compatibility, become known to all in the land of Yuria as one of the most golden of loves.
Indeed, it would not be long at all, after the destruction of the Death Adder, that Tyris would be playfully dubbed the Birth Multiplier, as she would marry her tough true love and give him crowds of children as crudely feisty as the both of them.
But turning back a second, well before the Ax Battler would (somewhat cuckily) change his full name legally to Tarik=Tyris (to be fair, his wife would reverse it for her own new moniker)…
…
…
…
"So 'Axirians'…really?!"
"Yeah, that's what we were called. There's a problem with that?"
"It's just that…like…it's so overt. Like, 'Oh, my last girlfriend was totally a Swordelle…or, I know this chick who's totally loyal to her fellow Chainsawites…or, my mother's a quarter-blood, fuckin', Grenade-Launcherian'…"
"Shut the eff up, Tarry!"
She bumped him in the arm flirtatiously with the pommel of her blade. Behind them, the last of the Lieutenant Bitters lay blearily on the ground, he eager to abstain from any kind of uncouthness after his encounter with these enamored explorers.
[CREEEEEAAAAAKKKKKK]
Then the two turned abruptly, throwing their gloom game faces back on for any threat that might emerge from the giant wooden door that just started to open.
…
"So…how many times did y'all knock your red and blue boots?"
"…
"GILLY!" T and T both cried almost simultaneously.
Nearly tearfully the two embraced the tiny Thunderhead now, the trio glad to be reunited once again. The two taller troopers noticed that their stumpy associate looked a bit flush in the face.
"I guess it must have been pretty insane in there, with the evilest Equals Sign, huh?"
"Who, the Adder? …Nah, he was nothin'."
Tarry and Ty could only look at one another in dire disbelief.
"Really, guys, I've been working up far more of a sweat in there with the Zoobs…"
And then for the first time, the Battler and the Flare noted so kind of muffled giggling from behind the vast door.
"It's all three of them in there, the emerald, the amethyst, and the ruby Zuburokas. I wanted to get a shadow one to come along also, for a fivesome, but she was a total swipe about it. What can ya do, you know?"
The other two wild warriors could only smile heartily at the third's fortune.
"Bet you thought all those storms were me conjuring up against the enemy in battle, too, huh? I was just showin' off to my bevy of blonde boons the whole time…"
All this talk made Tarik somewhat aroused, so he reached furtively behind Tyris…who slapped his hand away as a First Lady would to her tackily-tanned tyrant, only here it was done much more blithely, coquettishly.
"Yeahhh I know you two would be cozying up to one another pretty comfortably along the way…Tarr, you're lucky you didn't get stuck with a companion like Dora! I swear…if she were with us, our adventure would be renamed Golden American Gladiators Baton with that oversized Q-Tip she brandishes and shit…eff me!"
By this point, though, Tarik and Tyris were not listening to their itty bitty buddy so much as staring into one another's eyes, the former informing the latter through his look alone that although their official mission was over, so many challenges most carnal lay ahead of them.
The enemies with the spiked clubs may all have become extinct now, but these lovers over the years ahead would continue to spiritedly subject one another to the Longest of Moans imaginable.