The Romancer Opalbane

Episode Twenty-Two: A deadly libido, take Two

Opalbane slid her fingertips down Alessandre's sweaty back. He grunted softly with every rhythmic thrust. She ground her teeth to keep from losing herself, but Al was making that impossible for her. How many times had he worked her up to the brink of bliss only to withdraw and leave her feeling helpless?

"More," she begged after each time. Alessandre would look up at her, amazed, from where he lay on his side nearby. He would caress Opalbane's cheek gently and struggle to catch his breath for a few moments. Opalbane felt she would cry with frustration while she waited for him. Then, he would press her into the mattress and try again.

Alessandre never told anyone this, but he liked to keep count. It amused him to track how many times he could please a woman one night, and then if he had another with her, he'd try to break that record. It delighted him to see his partner writhe on the brink of madness as he pushed his endurance to the limit every time. They did not know he had the appetite of an animal inside of him, but Alessandre did. Having sex with a woman was the one opportunity he had to confess a little about his past. He watched the disbelief in their faces, the awe, as he stiffened and came again and again without being asked. He knew that they were wondering how he was able to do it. The truth was right in front of them and Alessandre wanted to laugh in their faces because they would never know. Who would ever guess such a thing?

But Opalbane was different. Alessandre had been leaning up on his forearms all night long. The muscles were strained and they trembled when he put pressure on them. He did not dare ask to rest. The rogue just hoped that this time—what was it, the ninth? The tenth?—would be what it took to satisfy the woman he loved. But Alessandre was starting to accept the fact that Opalbane had an even more terrible appetite than he did, now that it had been awakened. His mind roved back to the time on the ship, when she'd tried to force herself on him at the first opportunity. She really did have some kind of supernatural hunger… but where did it come from? Was his fel mana still affecting her somehow? Maybe they were like magnets that pulled at each other forever, or volatile alchemical mixtures that seethed and bubbled over when forced into the same vessel. Alessandre found himself feeling as nervous as if this were the first time he was making love. His partner was another creature entirely in the bedroom. Not that he was really complaining.

Opalbane gave a little whimper and Alessandre tried to continue on for her sake but he just couldn't. He exhaled deeply when he finished and withdrew again. Opalbane struggled to compose herself. She shuddered and Alessandre wrapped his strong arm tight around her shoulders.

"Moonlily," he started when he could breathe again, "Is something wrong?"

Opalbane couldn't answer. She was too busy trying to catch her breath.

"I've never… it's never been like this for me before. I don't want to stop, but… I think I have to now." Alessandre had no idea what time it was. Darnassus was still very dark, and if possible, even more quiet. A very large and full white moon dominated the night sky.

"Please Al, don't. I love you so much."

Alessandre kissed his lover's forehead. "I love you to. That doesn't change. I will love you whether or not we are together like this. I will love you when I am sleeping. I will love you in the morning and every day after."

"You don't understand," Opalbane pleaded. Her voice sounded strange, and she began to tug at him.

Alessandre hated to put his foot down in a situation like this. He couldn't believe that he actually considered putting a stop to lovemaking this good. "I might kill myself if I keep going." He half-joked.

That was when Opalbane's shadowform flared up. Her glowing white eyes fixed on his and she pushed out of Alessandre's embrace. "Finish thisss…" she hissed at him. Alessandre flinched. "Alessssandre…" The spooky demon voices that had consumed Opalbane on the ship were back.

"No…" Alessandre gasped. "There's no way. You're cured! Why are you like this again, Opal?"

Opalbane didn't answer him. She climbed ontop of Alessandre. He tried to move away, but she leaned on his wrists.

"Dear Elune! I think I broke her!" Alessandre's eyes went wide.

The beautiful shadowpriestess was illuminated by the enormous moon. The shades of her shadowform caught in the white light and brilliant blues, greens, and violets flashed as the dark smoke energy wafted off of her skin. "I will finish… you will yield to me…" the many demon voices throbbed with Opalbane's sultry warcry.

Alessandre was mesmerized by the woman's deadly beauty.

He opened his mouth to beg mercy, but Opalbane leaned in and stole his breath with her kisses. Then, she mounted Alessandre and forced him into her. The confident lover was overcome and Alessandre writhed as he felt her dark spells seep into him. Pain pulled at his joints, numbed his mind like the Vampiric Embrace spell back in Aldrassil. Alessandre had fought priests before. He knew what shadow words of pain felt like. He steeled himself against the blasts to his mind, the manaburn spells that Opalbane should not have known he was susceptible to. He lay there, an unwilling host for this madwoman that he loved, wondering when his life would finally give out. But, at some point, the pain of her dark spells began to feel good. The savage fear of death grated close to his feral instinct and a very primal part of Alessandre began to rage against it. He did not know himself then. At that point, he couldn't think. Raw emotion surged up inside of him and the once druid lashed out against the woman on top of him. Alessandre broke free of Opalbane's painful grasp and sat up. He kissed her angrily then pushed the darkly glowing woman underneath him. With renewed strength, he met her every challenge. Opalbane had lost control of herself, and cast more and more shadow words of pain. At one point, she even flayed his mind, but Alessandre raged against the blue energy that leapt from the palm of her hand into his chest. He sweated and grunted angrily as he took control of the situation. He arched his back over her and pressed through the pain, with every ounce of his strength. And then, somewhere outside of himself, he thought he heard a deep, roiling feminine moan of pleasure. The last thing Alessandre saw before he passed out was the smile on Opalbane's face. It was exquisite.

Sometime the next morning, Opalbane roused Alessandre again. He was sleeping very deeply and did not want to wake up. He'd never felt so exhausted before in his life. But the little priestess was insistent and Alessandre finally managed to open his eyes for her.

"Alessandre, please make love to me." She asked in the softest voice.

Alessandre wanted to laugh. How many times had they done just that the night before? All the muscles in his body were sore. It ached to even move her into position underneath him. But after a few moments, they found their rhythm.

This time was completely different from the last. Opalbane gave in much earlier than she had the previous night, but before she was completely finished with Alessandre, she ran her bare hands up the length of his back, and filled him with the healing powers of the Light. He moaned deeply with the pleasure that brought him. It was a while after though, that he realized Opalbane had not stirred him awake for the lovemaking itself. She seemed to realize what she had done to him the night before, how much she'd taken away with her shadow power, and had just finished with her strongest healing spell to restore him.

Alessandre slept very well after that.

Yellow morning sunlight greeted Alessandre when he next woke up of his own accord. The woman he loved slept soundly nestled against his shoulder. He carefully ran his fingers through Opalbane's long white braid that had come undone during the night. Her hair was beautiful, felt beautiful. Ever your typical male elf, he fought back a tinge of jealousy.

"Wow." He allowed himself to exclaim at last. He'd been with countless women in the past, but this was the first time Alessandre had really felt something. At first, the sex had been sweet, then some time during the night it had become painful. Next, when Opalbane let herself completely go it had become deadly, then he responded to her and the lovemaking between them transformed into something primal and savage. Never before had he truly been able to indulge himself with someone else. Alessandre realized that with other women, he'd been holding a part of himself back. It felt like all other encounters before this one, even the joyous times he'd spent with Arianna in Silithus several lifetimes ago, had been senseless mating. What they did last night was incredibly dangerous. Opalbane had driven him to the brink with her shadow powers, and he reacted to her with the savage feral thirst that always lay brooding deep inside of him. Both of them had exposed the worst sides of themselves… but at some point, the angry shadowpriestess and the vengeful feral druid had danced together and found joy in each other's pain. And this morning—Alessandre realized that perhaps he had truly been dying considering the way that he and Opalbane had gone about it—his lover used her powers of the Light to heal him completely. There was something incredibly endearing about that. He'd satisfied her using his ferocity, and Opalbane returned the favor a few hours later, using her gentleness.

Alessandre smiled down at his Moonlily. He silently prayed to Elune that they could be like this always. Now that he understood what it was like, Alessandre did not want to give up his place beside her to any man. It made him jealous just thinking about leaving Opalbane. Why in the world had he convinced himself to do it before? How had he restrained himself from loving her, with his body as well as his heart? Alessandre stroked Opalbane's back and idly wondered if Elune would answer his prayer.

"No… Elune has already done as much as she can for me." Alessandre smiled as the beautiful truth occurred to him at last. "I have the power to see to our happiness myself."

Hello, this is my wife Opalbane. Please, let me introduce you to Opalbane, my wife. My wife Opalbane likes Heaven Peaches too… Alessandre liked the thought of Opalbane being his and loved thinking about them that way, loved hearing how it would sound to introduce her to other people, to talk about her. They had an entire year ahead of them after this Wreathe Day to think about marriage, but why wait?

Alessandre had already been waiting too long for this kind of miracle to occur in his life. He was not going to wait any longer.

Opalbane woke up then. She observed her new lover staring off into space for some time. Alessandre had a pleasant, detached smile on his face.

"Al, what's so funny?" she almost giggled herself, trying to imagine what could make the stoic rogue look so whimsical.

Alessandre looked at her sideways while he grinned, as if her were ready to tell her an amazing secret.

"What is your brother's address, in Ashenvale?"

"Why?" Opalbane started to worry.

"Oh, no reason. I think it's about time that I wrote him a letter, that's all."

She kissed him on the cheek, but could not seize Alessandre's attention back.

"Also, in your opinion, is Priestess Feathershine terribly busy these days? I'd like to talk to her as well."

"Al, what is going on?"

Alessandre smiled wider. "Nothing. I'm just a traditional guy when it comes to these things." And he kissed her hand.

"What things?" she insisted, getting worried. Alessandre did not answer Opalbane. He drew her into a warm hug and began to talk about what a beautiful morning it was. He meant every word.