Continuing on ahead of schedule...
Part 4
Sometimes, a sliver of hope can help guide one through the darkest of times, keeping despair at bay and filling them with a sense of purpose.
Other times, hope could lead to recklessness and ill-conceived ideas. To have what you desired the most in clear view, the promise of forever just within your grasp, waiting for you to reach out and take hold of it.
That feeling of recklessness is what led to Isolde weaving her way through the crowded streets of Silvermoon, wearing a hooded cloak and keeping to the shadows to avoid recognition.
As since the start of the celebrations, revellers filled the streets, the twilight sky a backdrop to folk dances, laughter and the soft musical strains of a lute or harp.
It was three days until the Prince's Birthday Ball and she still had not seen Anshul for over the last two weeks. She needed to see him, needed to tell him what she had learned and what her father told her. She knew that just being in his presence would give her the courage she needed for her upcoming societal debut.
She wouldn't say that she was feeling impulsive, but then there really was no other explanation for it; she had pleaded sick and after her parents left to attend a concert on Sunstrider Isle, she had sworn her maid to secrecy, donned her cloak and left the Bel'Tannen estate via the servant quarters' exit.
She made her way towards the Inn that Anshul worked at, carefully sidestepping around those who had imbibed one too many drinks and making haste when a group of men began arguing, the altercation becoming louder when one man punched another square on the jaw.
Out of breath and only now realising the danger she was putting herself in by venturing alone into the more questionable parts of the city, she hurried toward her intended destination.
Breathing a sigh of relief once 'The Flying Nypmh Inn' came into view, she moved swiftly as she yanked the door open and slipped inside, slamming the entrance shut behind her. Leaning against the aged wood, she closed her eyes as she tried to calm her racing heart, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Upon her dramatic entrance, several patrons of the tavern turned to stare, curious. Taking note of the attention she garnered, Isolde stood straight, raising a delicate hand to make sure the cowl of her cloak was still in place. Stepping into the darkened interior, she felt ill at ease as she glanced around, never having visited such a place before and unsure where Anshul would be.
Spotting a free table in the far corner of the room, she sat down, biting her lip nervously. She waited, hoping that he would appear on his own and she wouldn't have to ask someone if they knew where she could find him.
Trying not to fidget, she scanned the room, her gaze moving over the draping fabric hanging from the rafters, secured by ropes and small lanterns that sparkled with a small golden orb that danced within. Bunches of dried flowers hung behind the bar, the peacebloom and mageroyal a subtle scent that mixed with the smell of wood smoke coming from the fireplace and the cooked meats and honeyed mead served to customers.
A bar maid swept by Isolde's table, balancing a tray of wooden steins on one hand while carrying a steaming platter of boar ribs on the other. The woman didn't loose her momentum as she swept on by, delivering the food to a table of rowdy men before turning to stare at the hooded figure, intrigued.
She then promptly turned and disappeared into the back of house, tucking the empty trays under her arm. She came back a few minutes later, followed by Anshul who was balancing a wooden cask on his shoulder. After heaving the filled barrel onto the rack, he turned and stared at the barmaid, who stood nearby, waiting. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and with a faint nod, gestured towards Isolde.
Anshul stared at Isolde, frowning. She noticed him at the same time and stood, her eyes flashing from within the shadowed folds of the cloak. Noticing the flash of golden color, his face went slack in shock, his gaze immediately moving to the more questionable looking patrons spread throughout the room.
Moving towards her with purposeful strides, he reached her quickly and took hold of her hand, not at all stopping. She opened her mouth to ask where they were going before thinking it better to keep silent for now, following him trustingly as he pulled back a nearby curtain and ushered her behind the veil. A wooden staircase lay before them and with a soft creak, they ascended to the upper level where three sets of doors stood.
Moving to the far left, Anshul pulled a key from his trouser pocket and unlocked the door. Once inside, he reached over to a lantern that stood on a nearby table and turned the dial, increasing the light it provided, the warm glow chasing away the darkness.
Turning, he pulled her close, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Isolde, what are you doing here? Do you not know the danger you put yourself in by coming here?" Reaching up, Isolde pulled the cowl off, revealing her face as her pale long hair tumbled down her back in thick waves.
"Anshul, I had to come," she stepped closer, craving the warmth of his body.
His right hand moved along her shoulder to the back of her neck, their bodies now flush against one another. He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closing in relief.
"Why though? Why would you risk such dangers?"
Delicate hands reached up, twining in his hair. "You are worth it. What I need to tell you is worth it." Isolde proceeded to tell him about the Prince's involvement with a human woman, that her father would not marry her off to anyone she did not want and that he suspected she had already given her heart to someone.
"Why would he think that?" Anshul asked, by this point pacing the length of room.
Isolde sat on a stool in front of a desk littered with parchment and worn quills, an open ink pot sitting near a few maps, dark lines etched along its surface.
Blushing, she looked at her hands, twisting them together in her lap. "I-I accidentally left one of your scrolls in the garden and he found it."
Anshul paled and halted abruptly, coming to stand directly before her. He studied her for a long moment, his silence causing her to laugh anxiously.
"I know it was foolish of me, but...," She swallowed, looking up at him. "What is it?"
Sinking to his knees, he bowed before her, humbled. "Would you truly sacrifice everything, just to be with a lowly pauper?"
Taking a deep breath, Isolde nodded. "I would."
Twining his fingers with hers, he moved closer, beseeching. "Then I shall be worthy of you."
Smiling, her teeth flashing white, Isolde's slim finger traced along Anshul's high cheek bones and the straight slope of his nose, her eyes moving lovingly over the features she knew so well. "Oh my love, you already are," she whispered, before leaning forward and kissing him.
His arms enveloped her, pulling her down off the stool and onto his upper thighs, still kneeling on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her mouth moving sweetly against his, her pert little tongue running along the seam of his mouth. With his hands in her hair, he angled her head to the side as he opened his lips and their tongues met in a sensuous dance of swirling, flicking and dipping, the air tight in his lungs as she sucked on his bottom lip.
Pulling his mouth away, he inhaled sharply, looking away from the tempting sight of Isolde in his arms, eyes glazed with desire and her mouth red and swollen. "I-I will escort you back."
Dazed, Isolde stared as Anshul helped her back onto the stool, his face pinched as he stood and turned away. She touched the raw flesh of her lips, wanting to taste more of him.
"Did I do something wrong?" Her voice was husky.
Still looking away from her, he raked his fingers through his black hair, agitated. "You test my control, Isolde. Especially having you here, in my room, where I think of you..."
His voice trailed off, his hands clenched in a fist by his side. Isolde stared, beginning to comprehend what he was alluding to. She then noticed the large bed that was opposite of where she sat, the bedclothes pulled up over the mattress in a quick tidy, wrinkles and bunches of fabric seen under the top blanket.
Face flushed red, she was shocked to feel a sudden swell of heat fill her abdomen, her throat suddenly dry. She stood, slightly unsteady on her feet. "You wish for me to leave?"
"Yes!" The word was said quickly, forced out of him. And then, just as quick, a sharp "No!" Then with more resolve, "No..."
While innocent in the ways of flesh, Isolde knew what transpired between a man and a woman. Driven by curiosity when younger, she sought the answers she desired by looking in books and asking questions of the servants. She knew enough that Anshul wanted her physically, wanted her body and her ultimate surrender. And she knew in that moment, she wanted to give herself to him fully, completely.
With shaking fingers and her heart beating a loud cadence in her ears, she undid her cloak, the fabric falling to the floor in a puddle of purple silk. Shy yet emboldened, she cleared her throat. "Anshul, look at me."
He turned, his expression anguished, helpless. He noticed her cloak right away, his eyes widening. "Isolde, what are you doing?"
Looking up at him through her thick lashes, she took her courage in hand and said, "Never ask me to leave."
Her words seemed to shatter the last remnants of control he had for she was suddenly in his arms and lifted up off the floor, her body pressed firmly along the length of his. His mouth was hot and desperate on hers, her answering kisses equally fuelling their fervour.
Anshul's mouth moved away only for his lips to nibble and lick out along her offered swan-like neck. His hands moved up along her ribcage, his thumbs brushing against the undersides of her breasts. Surprised, she gasped loudly. She was trembling, her skin on fire wherever he touched, setting her aflame.
He let her body slowly slide down along his until her feet touched the floor again, allowing her to feel the effect she had on him, his arousal pressing hard and insistent against the ties of his leather trousers.
Isolde watched as Anshul unfastened the simple buckles of his tanned vest, her pulse catching as he pulled the under-shirt up and over his head, tossing the garment over his shoulder. She could only stare as the smooth skin of his chest was revealed, the generous tone of corded muscle flexing as his hands moved to the opening of his pants, loosening them enough so he could push them down over his hips and allow gravity to do the rest. He toed off his boots and stepped away, kicking the clothing to the side.
Licking her lips, Isolde wasted no time in repeating his actions, pushing the fabric on her shoulders away and pulling her arms free, shimmying the dress down her body. Once revealed, they both stood there, barely daring to breathe.
While still in her undergarments, the soft curves and generous bust of Isolde's figure were met by Anshul's appreciative gaze, his eyes dark with longing. She found herself too distracted to feel bashful about her undressed state; her skin felt hot and her womb ached as she was overwhelmed by each crashing tide of emotion that swept through her.
He was beautiful. She could see that he struggled to contain himself, his jaw clenched and the muscles of his arms and abdomen twitching. Her gaze followed the thin line of black hair leading down into the thin shorts he wore, the bulge of his erection quite obvious, as well as the wetness that seemed to be growing on the cloth.
Stepping forward, her hand found his right arm and traced a path along his bicep to his shoulder, her palm coming to rest in the center of his chest. She could feel the small tremors that wracked his body, his control hanging by a thread.
"Touch me," she whispered, needing to feel him.
With a gentleness that contradicted the tension in his body, he pulled her close. The heat of his skin seeped into hers as they melded together, their lips meeting tenderly in the barest of kisses. His mouth drifted down her neck again as before, yet this time, not stopping.
Goose flesh erupted over the surface of Isolde's skin as he nipped lower along her collarbone, her nipples tightening as she arched up into him, the grip he had upon her hips keeping her from squirming too much as he moved further down to the valley of her breasts.
Panting, she couldn't help but meet his eyes as he stared up at her, his tongue leaving a wet trail as he licked his way up the slope of her bosom. Her fingernails dragged along the skin of his shoulders, her legs beginning to feel watery from the overload of new sensations she was experiencing. That sense increased tenfold as Anshul's hands came up and pulled the soft cups of her brassiere down, exposing her pert breasts to his view.
He paused for a moment to enjoy the sight afforded to him, licking his lips before murmuring, "Exquisite." His lips enclosed around her puckered nipple, flicking at the hardened nub before suckling her, pulling her tit taut before letting go, the white fleshy globe jiggling temptingly.
Isolde gasped loudly, her fingers now tangled in his hair, her back curving forward as with each pull of his mouth, she could feel her core become more sensitive, moisture gathering in a rush from her depths. A guttural moan left her as he moved to her other breast, suckling her even more, a small sting of pain shooting through her system, her nipples almost raw and red.
"Anshul..."
The sound of his name upon her lips made his own curl up at the corners of his mouth. He began to kiss his way down her quivering belly, her legs shaking as he crouched before her, his fingertips running along the inside of the fabric of her panties. He could smell her, the musky scent delectable and inviting.
"Are you wet for me, Isolde?"
Before she could even process his question, he pulled her panties down, revealing the coarse blonde hair of her mound. Completely nude, she felt vulnerable and unsure, but as she watched Anshul and how his gaze moved over her reverently, she began to feel as a goddess, this elf worshipping at the foot of her alter.
A strong hand slid up the inside of her thigh and upon reaching her center, Anshul cupped her, long fingers gliding through her sodden folds and the trickling wetness of her arousal. Isolde whimpered softly, her eyes squeezing shut as his caress made her throb, her stomach clenching tightly.
"Isolde," Anshul rasped, staring up at her in wonder. She was soaking, dripping nectar onto his fingers. He swiped over her clit, the resulting jerk of her body surprising them both. He did it again, repeating the motion over and over as she bucked against his hand.
Rising up, his one hand still moving between her legs, he kissed her deeply, capturing her breathy gasps in his mouth. His other hand guided her to turn around and sit on his thighs, her back pressed against his front, his still clothed cock captured betwixt his own pelvis and the valley of her ass.
She writhed on top of him, her one arm reaching behind to hold any part of him she could grab while her other arm grabbed hold of the bedpost nearby, scrabbling for something to ground herself with. She pushed back against him, her body searching, reaching, straining. His one hand was between her legs and the other arm reached around palming, massaging the hill of her breast.
"You can do it, Dalah'surfal." Anshul rested his head near hers, his breathing harsh as his fingers kneaded her in quick circular motions, her bared pussy unleashing a new flood of wetness onto his legs. Yearning to feel her wet silken heat, he dipped his sodden middle finger into her core, the muscles of her sheath clamping around him like a vice.
She tossed her head back and rested against his shoulder, wild and uninhibited as she chased the unknown. Ever higher she spiralled, whispered words of encouragement driving her on to the brink of the unknown, which was just out of reach. She was in the throes of rapture at a level that made her incomprehensible, too busy writhing to satiate the need.
Anshul added a second finger, his thumb still swiping across her hardened nub as he hooked his fingers inside of her, his mouth attached to her shoulder as he left love bites along her dewy skin. His gaze was fixated by the sight of her spread legs, her feet pushing off the floorboards as she tensed suddenly, her hips lifting off his legs and her hands grabbing his arms as she convulsed upon him, pleasure ripping her apart in its certainty. Her cries filled the room, his hand still moving quickly as he carried her through her very first orgasm.
Boneless, lost in a daze of satiated bliss, Isolde did not even feel Anshul lift her up and place her on the bed. He bent over her prone form, smiling softly as he swept her long hair away from her face, some strands clinging to the sweat that dotted her brow. Hooded eyes watched him, her hand coming up to touch his chin.
Lifting up on her one elbow, she guided his face towards hers and kissed him. "Thank you," she whispered, pressing their foreheads together. Biting her lip, she found her attention drawn down to the very prominent erection pressing against Anshul's shorts. Feeling brave, her fingers grabbed hold of the waist band and pulled the briefs down, freeing his weeping cock - now unrestrained bounced to attention - precum glistening along the tip in the fluttering lantern's light.
She studied him, never having seen this region of a male before. He was quite large and thick, the mushroom shaped head hidden by skin that seemed to want to be pulled back and revealed. Pulsating veins ran along the side, his elfhood twitching and bobbing with each breath he took as she stared.
Hesitantly, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around him, marvelling at how hot he felt, how he could feel like silk yet be so hard like stone.
A strange sound came from above her and looking up, she saw Anshul had his eyes closed. Snatching her hand away, she asked, "Did I hurt you?"
A self deprecating chuckle came from deep within his chest, followed by a shake of his head. "No, but I fear if you touch me, I may finish far sooner than I desire for."
Climbing onto the bed, no longer able to hold himself back, he pulled Isolde to the center of the bed. Opening her legs, he situated himself into the cradle of her hips, her quim shining up at him, the lips of her swollen labia a silent siren's song.
Taking himself in hand, he stroked himself once, twice, more precum enticed from the now exposed tip. Meeting her molten eyes, he panted, "This will hurt, my love."
With a nervous nod, she watched anxiously as he loomed over her, bracing himself on one hand near her head. She could feel him drag the turgid crown of his erection over the pink pearl of her sensitive clit several times, drawing forth more of her nectar and making her writhe, her hips lifting upward to greet him.
Poised at her entrance, he paused, regretful of the pain his first stroke would bring her. Wanting to end her discomfort as quickly as possible, he surged forward without stopping, hilting fully within her hot, velvety depths.
She could feel him tear through her maidenhead, the stinging ache and the fullness of him stretching her enough to steal her breath away. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his back, leaving half moon crescents that was evidence to her silent suffering.
He lowered himself fully onto her, his lips kissing away her unbeknownst tears from her eyes, his voice pleading whispers of forgiveness. He remained still as sun-warmed stone whilst she adjusted to the feel of him, his tender attentions slowly bringing from her a smile.
"I'm ready," she whispered, the ache of her induction to womanhood dulled and the feel of him seated up against her womb urging her to move against him.
With small movements, his hips withdrew, receding as a wave from the shore of her body and returning just as gently. She knew he was wary of causing more pain, but she felt the instinctual urge for him to plunge inside of her, to move faster, harder. She tried to move with him and once he understood she did not shy away from his rolling thrusts, he increased his pace.
Isolde felt her senses come alive, her body arching up to receive him as they crashed into each other. The feel of his skin against hers - the smooth glide of his solid curves against her softness - and the resounding strike of them coming together as he went ever faster, was a sound she would never forget.
Feeling his shaft rearing hard and hot within her brought on a state of burgeoning frenzy, her nerve endings alight with a fire that licked up her back and pulsated where they collided again and again.
Anshul, feeling this heat as well, moved rapidly, fusing his flesh to hers, filling her, pounding her. Sweat ran in rivulets down his back and arms, the muscles in his legs and buttocks burning as he palmed her mound, his thumb pressing and rubbing her clit again.
Rearing up, Isolde clung to Anshul as she felt the tipping point coming near, the spring coiling tighter and tighter within her. She felt him tensing under her hands, his grunts and groans breathless as his own release threatened to crest before she met hers.
He could feel her fluttering around his engorged cock, her chest heaving as she inhaled sharply, arching wildly, her clasping sleeve tightening around him. She keened loudly, an answering cry wrenched from his own lips as everything went hot-white, both of them lost to the ecstasy found within each other.
Dalah'surfal - my love
Giggles I couldn't help myself. I wanted to get this chapter out because it was figuratively on fire.