I blame the title on Thimble of Glass. It's quite an adequate one given my experience with this wretched beastie.
—Spontaneous Nergigante—
The world around you is on fire.
It had taken some doing to get your Wingdrake to fly close enough to deposit you safely onto the massive, mountainous Elder Dragon you're attempting to scale. Apparently, the simple creatures had much better survival instinct than you or the rest of the Fivers who are putting your lives on the line.
In the raging waters below—and you thank the Sapphire Star that you're not scared of heights as you teeter—there's a huge ship where the Dragonator is being prepared. It's supposed to be a game changer, according to the Commander, and if all goes well, you should be able to repel the beast back towards the ocean, where it can die without the risk of ending the world as you know it.
The key word there being should.
If this last ditch effort is not successful, the lives of dozens of Commission folks are on the line-and that includes the life of a certain enigmatic scholar who you're head over heels for. Determination makes you climb faster.
"There's the first magmacore, Partner!" You unsheathe your long sword and the ache in your back and shoulders makes you smirk despite the direness of the situation.
The Third Fleet Master had given you a very convincing reason to come back in one piece.
/ Nails rake along your spine as the raven-haired beauty moans in your ear. Her sex is tight and hot, pulsating greedily around your fingers as you ravage velvety depths.
Your naked bodies, damp with sweat, move in tandem, teeth clicking as you silence her throaty sounds with a kiss. She's already made you orgasm to the point of soreness, but the way wet heat pools between your thighs makes you want her to take you again and you straddle her thigh as you curve your fingers into a spot that forces a strangled cry from her throat.
When she climaxes, her teeth sink into your shoulder to muffle her cry as she shudders. /
"Magmacore destroyed. Good work, Partner!"
You're panting, your grip too tight around the hilt of your weapon, and the heat that saturates your center has nothing to do with the magma spewing from cracks in Zorah Magdaros's hide. You need to stay focused on the task at hand, you remind yourself as you return the weapon to its rightful place and make a dash for the next target.
You destroy the next magmacore without issue, but the third and final one is in a tricky spot.
/ The spring is hot but hotter still is the body pressed close to yours. The Third Fleet Master kisses you soundly, her fingers tangling in your hair as her tongue explores your mouth.
When she finally pulls away, releasing you from the spell that erases your rational thought processes, there's a smile on her lips. As she opens her mouth to speak, however, there's a clamoring from the other side of the natural rock wall that separates the springs from the path leading up to the mountains and you quickly pull her with you as you duck into a narrow channel created by a rock outcrop. It's a tight fit for the both of you, and her thigh ends up between yours, your head pressed to her breast.
She smirks as she reaches down between your bodies and you taste copper as you bite your lip to keep from alerting the others of your presence. /
"Zorah Magdaros is rearing up!"
The beast groans as it straightens its massive form and you suddenly find yourself airborne. You manage to catch hold of a ridge, but you quickly lose your grip, bouncing and rolling to a painful halt on a more level part of its body. You faintly hear your gear clatter somewhere just out of reach and the mere thought of lifting your battered body to retrieve it makes you groan.
If the bellows from the Commander are anything to go by, it's time to mount the second stage of the assault. The cannons are loaded, the Dragonator is almost ready, and you should be hitching a ride from a Wingdrake, but after a futile attempt to roll onto your side, you decide better of it. Maybe just another minute.
/ You kiss her fingertips one by one, relishing in the closeness you share and the Third Fleet Master sighs.
You don't ask what's wrong because you already know the answer. Instead, you wrap your arms around her and she rests her chin on the crown of your head.
It's late. Very late. You should be fast asleep by now, yet here you are-
"Please be safe. I don't know what I'd do if..." She doesn't finish her statement; she doesn't have to.
-And there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be. /
Before you can regain your bearings, a huge shadow falls across you.
The creature that roars loudly enough to make your teeth chatter is a strange mixture of purple and orange with wicked black spikes that jut from its wings and shoulders. A chill races down your spine as you meet the smouldering gaze of Nergigante and you just barely manage to roll clear as it leaps and smashes into the ground where you'd just been.
You make a dive for your weapon, snatching it up just in time to deflect a rain of thorns that threatens to impale you. Zorah Magdaros roars and the ground beneath you quakes, causing you and your new opponent to stagger. Taking advantage of the opening, you heft the blade, a wide slash driving your fearsome foe back a step.
Zorah Magdaros would fall—as would all that stood between you and the sweetest of rewards anxiously awaiting you at the Research Base.