And here it is, what you guys have been waiting for! Buckle up and get a glass of milk, cause it's about to get spicy! Giving a shoutout to my husband for inspiring this scene (please don't ask how).
Was it lipstick she wore, or the blood of her foes? He didn't care, sitting on the edge of the bed, slackjawed and clutching the silken sheets.
She towered over him, dressed in revealing red battle raiment. Her quads rippled and her arms glistened.
"So, I hear that puny elf likes them stronk!" her red lips curled over her orchish tusks.
He nodded so fast his head rattled. "Yes, ma'am!" he whispered.
She shoved him into his back. "Relax, pipsqueak."
He couldn't if he wanted to. His heart raced and his bowels tensed; no false moves here.
She turned around and bent over. He lifted his head to get a nice up skirt glance at her rock hard caboose, clad in leather.
She stood up and turned around, holding a massive watermelon over her head.
"I considered ripping a book, but I know puny elves like getting messy."
He began to hyperventilate. Like a vice, her arms pressed on the watermelon. It began to creak.
Oh my.
She began to grunt, then roar, as the watermelon began to bulge.
She opened her mouth wide, baring her massive teeth and howling as the watermelon burst into a rain of red sticky chunks.
CAW! CAW!
The cry of a crow shook him awake, he bolted up to a flurry of back wings retreating from him.
"Oh, go fornicate yourselves!" he shouted at the birds, and slammed himself back on the ground. He'd now woken from the dream sunburnt and with a pounding head. It took him a moment to realize where he was, the soothing breeze brought him to his senses.
He was miles away from home, in the wilderness, with an old imperial man, on his way to some unknown destination. This probably should have concerned him, but the sudden return of adrenaline stole his sobriety. He was on an adventure!
Caius had made himself busy : he trudged into their makeshift camp with four fresh rats hanging from his belt. "Breakfast?" he offered with a raised white eyebrow.
It was only then that he felt his stomach boil dryly, begging for food.
Caius chucked, and knelt by a rough stone firepit. He must have gathered wood and tinder as Stan slept.
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" he bolted upright. The pair began the work of skinning the rats and starting the fire.
30 minutes later, they enjoyed their paupers' meals, biting crispy flesh from the roasted rats.
"So," Caius studied his meal. "Why did you insist on tagging along?"
Stan gulped down an unchewed bite. His decision to follow Caius had been impulsive.
"I, uh..."
"Look," Caius's brown eyes were sharp, and cut into Stan. "I'm a man of my word, and I'll let you tag along if that's still your choice, but I don't want to have another dead kid on my conscience."
"I know, but there's nothing left for me back-wait 'another?'"
Caius looked westward. "Sun's getting low, we'd better get moving soon." He went over to the fire, reached into his robe, and pulled out a skooma pipe.
"Woah! Woah!" Stan held up his hands.
"Look, I won't judge the kind of tail you're chasing, you don't judge me for my vices!" Caius scowled, drawing a lit twig from the fire and lighting the pipe.
He poured in the skooma, let it sit for a minute. The smell singed at Stan's nostrils, but Caius seemed to relish in the aroma before inhaling deeply.
Stan shook his head, and mentally prepared himself for another long night of running.