The sun began to take it's place, peeking behind the thick trees of the forest, as it settled into early evening. Marcail could hear every note in her room with the open window, and saw that guests were beginning to arrive. Her window was located off to the side of the house, facing into the forest, but she could see the backyard off to the left. She tried to stay out of view as she watched carefully through her window. Night elves in beautiful costumes came trickling in to the courtyard, as they spread out and gathered in groups over various pleasures. Some were watching the fire display of three female night elves all dressed in golden and red costumes. They did tricks, juggling balls of fire, standing on their heads with one arm and throwing the fire balls back and forth to each other. She sighed heavily.
Marcail played with her skirts, picking them up to her ankles and flowing with the music that played outside the house. She checked the pin at the small of her back to make sure it was still on tight. She was grateful that Lavena found the time to help her into the dress, because the sashes were more complicated than she remembered. Could she really do this? This was insane!
As the music gathered at a crescendo, she breathed out. The tension and anxiety gripped her tightly, and she gritted her teeth. She was to make an appearance in front of some of her greatest enemies. What if she had killed one of their closest friends or family members? What if they knew exactly who she was? Was this how her demise would be orchestrated out? She swallowed hard, and glanced out of her room's windowsill. It looked like everyone was focused on the opening ceremonies. If she was to make an entrance, it would be best to do it now. Everyone's attention was elsewhere She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself out of the doorway.
.
Galen waited impatiently out in the courtyard, watching the opening ceremony halfheartedly. He kept glancing to the back of the house, where everything was decorated in beautiful gold banners and ribbons, searching for Marcail. Where in hellfire was that blood elf? She had better be coming. He fiddled with his cuff links on his sleeves as he tried to make eye contact with Lavena. She was standing with a group of friends a few yards away, but she was too distracted to look behind her. Glancing back again at the back porch, he saw a head of dark green hair headed toward him. The female caught his eye and smiled. Keina, the rogue, had made it out tonight, dressed in a light, icy blue gown that hugged her frame wondrously. He fondly smiled back, as she came up to stand beside him.
"Good evening, Galen," she whispered, curtseying politely. The warrior was glad he was standing in the far back of the crowd, as not to interrupt the elves happily watching the show.
"Good evening to you, Keina," he bowed graciously in reply.
When he straitened his back, he noticed something very different about the rogue. She had taken her hair down, and it looked much softer than usual. Her gown had a corset, and it gently thrust her bosom forward, giving him access to observe her charms. Her light blue gown was completely strapless, something he had never seen her wear before. The gown also seemed to be changing color in the light, going from light blue accents of green and yellow. He furrowed his brow, quizzically as he stared at the light playing off of the gown.
"Is there something wrong?" Keina asked, pulling his attention from the dress to her face.
"No, no," he replied, "forgive me, it's just your dress. How is it changing color like that?" The rogue giggled, putting a hand to her collarbone, making her appear enchantingly feminine.
"It's the material. Your sister would know, it's called taffeta."
"Taffeta," he repeated, "interesting." His mind and eyes instantly wandered to the back of the house.
"So," Keina started, snapping his attention back to her, "I have been wondering how your family was going to pull off the festival, but so far, this is been beautiful."
"Thank you," he smiled playfully. "But I had nothing to do with it. I should just stick to fighting."
Suddenly, the crowd got quiet, and he turned to look and see that everyone was staring at his back porch, even the rogue had stopped and stared. Her face had grown grim, and he looked in the direction, only to be caught in a trance.
There she was.
Even from where he was he could see how hard she was breathing. Her chest rising and falling as she stared bravely and unwavering in the entire eyes of the festival. Urgent whispers and anxious gasps blew around the crowd like a breeze, as no one moved a muscle.
It was like she were standing in a solar beam, the way she reflected the sunset right back at them. Her dress was strapless like Keina's, but it was in such a deep, firey red and the color was true and solid. She had two chiffon sashes, one draped over each shoulder, and falling down to her feet. They caught the light of the fire and illuminated flames dancing down her body. They both were held at her waist, where a sash of the same color had been wrapped tightly around her midsection, and pinned at the small of her back. Her hair was styled and pulled back with a very thin red headband, with a bright red feather attached to the side of her headband. It too, glittered like flames back at the crowd. The blood elf tossed her head back and stuck her chin out. She forced herself to walk forward, even though her legs were shaking so hard she feared she would fall over. Falling was better than just standing there awkwardly, she thought to herself as she descended the steps and joined the crowd.
Immediately, she felt Galen's eyes on her, and she looked over her shoulder to see him standing with a female. His gaze fastened on her, as he quickly approached her.
"Marcail," he murmured, his eyes swirling with desire. He offered her his arm to escort her into the fray, but her brows dropped and she turned her nose away from him. As she walked away she heard murmurs of disapproval. Marcail tried to convince herself not to care. As long as she carried herself with the same composure she was brought up with, she could try to survive this night. She would not let these people get the best of her.
Galen grit his teeth as she floated away, and he was left with her rejection. It left a sizable mark on his pride to have half of the aristocratic night elf culture watch the scene. He wanted to storm up to her and chide her for acting in such a way, but knew saving face was a better idea. Having her appear as his lessor would work in the short term, and his instincts screamed at him to make them both appear non-threateningly to the night elf community. He shrugged his shoulders and gave a smug, half smile to the crowd.
"Women." He said with a charming smile, and a laughter broke the tension. The crowd accepted his act and returned to their festivities. The worst was over, right?
.
Two shows were displayed on the main stage. Strange stares and glances were tossed her way, as well as whispers, but nothing else. Marcail squeezed the stem of her empty champagne glass. In the time it took for her to wish she had contracted some awful disease, she had drained it. She wondered if she got terribly drunk, Galen would dismiss her and let her go hide in her room. Just when she felt she was about to lose it, she saw Lavena in the corner of her eye. The priestess brought two flutes of champagne with her as she approached Marcail.
"You looked so calm up there!" She smiled, handing the blood elf one. She accepted it eagerly, and she quickly tipped the glass and sucked down the liquid. "Hey there," the priestess sounded worried, "are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," Marcail sighed. "But I wanted to collapse and die once everyone's eyes were on me. Especially when Galen came up to me."
"Oh! That was quite funny! I haven't seen him so flustered in a while."
"I don't ever want to do that again," the mage murmured.
"It's nice to see someone put him in his place." Lavena continued. "He needs it once and a while."
"And what was he thinking? I know everyone here thinks I'm evil, so why would he want to be seen with me?" Marcail asked, but Lavena shrugged in response.
"Lavena!" An angry voice gritted behind Marcail. They both turned to see Darine marching up to them. "How dare you put this blood elf in mother's dress!" She demanded, crossing her arms in front of her. The mage's eyes popped open as she turned to the priestess, alarm flashing.
"This dress was tiny, worn by mother when she was barely a woman. It wouldn't have fit any of us." Lavena defended. "It would have gone to waste."
"Better that than the alternative," Darine glared daggers at the blood elf. "I can't believe your audacity!"
"Hush, sister!" Lavena scolded. "Mother would have been happy to see forgiveness and compassion in this house." The female warrior almost opened her mouth again, before something else caught her eye. Two male night elves joined their group, and Darine greeted them and tried to control herself, bringing her rage down a notch.
Marcail looked back and forth at the two sisters, before finally settling her eyes on the two newcomers. One night elf was taller than all of them, and she concluded he had to be a warrior. With his physique and arrogant stance, he just radiated warrior. His shorter companion looked roguish. He looked like he was emerging into adulthood, his inexperienced, shy gaze giving him away all too clearly.
The tall one glanced at Marcail with a glint in his eye, before speaking to Darine in Darnassian. The female warrior let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. His rogue friend snickered along with them. The mage's eyes narrowed.
"What did he say?" Marcail inquired to Lavena.
"Nothing that would be polite to repeat in a civilized conversation." Came Darine's reply, not even looking at her while she looked admirably at the tall night elf.
"If the remark was that uncivil, than I must question the class of such a place." Marcail quipped. Darine's attention snapped back to the blood elf to shoot a piercing glare.
"I'm still here, and I am embarrassed for you, Darine." Lavena instantly brought a wave of relief to the mage. "And you're right, it's not for civilized conversation." The younger sister fired off a comment in Darnassian that made the whole group look guilty. The roguish night elf pointed at the refreshment table, and encouraged them to follow him with a wave of his hand. Darine and the other male night elf followed him.
"Just out of curiosity, but what did he say?" The blood elf asked, once she was sure that Darine and her friends were out of earshot. Upon hearing the question, Lavena's complexion went crimson.
"Well, let's just say it wouldn't be nice to hear, even in a tavern."
"I can't say I'm surprised," the mage rolled her eyes, fiddling with the material on the skirt of her dress. "This was a mistake, I really shouldn't even be here."
"Don't say that, you were invited." The priestess smiled. "Come, let's just walk around for a bit."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Marcail said, but the priestess didn't listen to her. She pulled the mage along and they visited the refreshment table and watched some of the fire dancers. All the while, Marcail kept sipping on champagne to keep from being too anxious.
The mage down at her feet when she saw a cheese biscuit on a plate being handed to her. She looked up and met the charming gaze of a male night elf with short, spikey, dark green hair. He spoke some words in Darnassian, and Marcail smiled politely and shook her head. Lavena explained in Darnassian her predicament.
"Ah, so I see, you are new here." The male elf spoke in Orcish. Her eyes lit up considerably in bewilderment. "Yes, I can speak your language. I have learned it in Stormwind."
"Marcail, this is Camdyn Whistletree. He works as an Ambassador of Darnassas to the human city of Stormwind." Lavena explained in Thalassian. The mage nodded.
"You must forgive me, I am both terribly confused and pleasantly surprised that I have another person I can speak to at this party." She shook her head. "I didn't even know that Orcish was taught at Stormwind."
"It isn't taught to the general public. There is a blood elf that lives in Stormwind and frequents the castle. She has taught a select few of us the language of the horde."
"Is she a slave?" Her brows drew in worry, and the night elf laughed.
"No, no. She is there on her own free will. She left her people and the horde to be with the King. She is loyal to the King, but insists that she is neither horde or alliance."
"What would ever compel a blood elf to leave her home for people who only wish to see us dead?"
"My," amusement danced in Camdyn's eyes, "it seems you have the old ways in your heart. Tell me, what have you learned from your own experience with night elves?"
"Well, I've always been told that you all hate us because we were addicted to the Sunwell's magic, but that's not fair since the night elves had the world tree. I see that as hypocritical."
"That's not what I asked you. That is only what you have been told. I asked you what your personal experiences have been with us." Camdyn waited patiently, with his kindness reflected in his face. Marcail searched her mind, looking for the truth.
"Well," she began, pushing her tongue against her cheek. "Galen was incredibly rude to me when I first met him." She decided to leave the logistics of how they met out. It wasn't a good idea to advertise that she was up for ransom. "He made a mistake that almost cost me my life, but he became very focused on healing me after that. I was surprised that he made that much effort." She blushed a little, looking away and into the forest. "He also helped me with something very personal, and I am grateful for that." She felt warmth growing in her chest as she remembered him staying up all night, watching her on the ship after she drank herself into a stupor.
"What about the rest of my family?" Lavena smiled, placing a hand on the mage's arm. She jumped a little, but couldn't help but return the priestess' smile.
"Your father is wise, Darine is loyal, Isla is thoughtful, Melluna is joyful, and you have shown me nothing but kindness since I got here." With that, she saw the priestess blush a little, and then turn her gaze back to Camdyn.
"There have been some trying moments on our relationship, but I have really come to enjoy Marcail's company." She turned back to the mage and grinned. A warm, welcoming feeling grew in her chest, very similar to the feelings she would get when Hayden was around.
"I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested in learning some of your dances, Marcail," Camdyn's voice smoothed over her like silk. She flushed and smiled.
"I couldn't-" she started, "I mean with so many people watching," she trailed off. "How about we keep this simple, and I just try to blend in with one of your dances?" She replied.
"A rain check, then," the Ambassador grinned and grabbed her hand, pulling her out on the dance floor. A laugh washed over the mage, as she felt a little of the alcohol blur the world a little. Why not go ahead and live a little? You'll never get another chance like this in your lifetime. She said to herself as she let Camdyn lead her in the beginning steps. His arm snaked around her waist as she was forced to get closer to the stranger. He linked his large hand into her delicate one, as the warmth of his skin radiated into hers. She looked beyond her partner and tried to watch and imitate the other women around her.
"Relax," he reassured her. "You're shaking." She nodded gently, and concentrated on following Camdyn's dance. His grip on her hand was light and encouraging, like an old friend's touch.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. The night elf gave her a smile that made her nervousness melt a little. They danced along with the steps, and then Camdyn told her the story of the first time he danced with a female. It was very embarrassing, and with a human woman. The woman was very drunk, much older than he had been, and tried to get him to come home with her. The way Camdyn explained it to her, it sounded so humorous and awkward, she couldn't help but laugh.
"I am glad that this dance is going better," he grinned.
"Me too," she replied, as the world around her began to smear in her vision. As the world got a little more hazy, she felt the worst part of her anxiety start to numb. They danced a while longer, and he pulled her in closer when she started to trip. He took her small form into his own, protecting her from the outside gazes and stares. She felt comfortable with him, but felt a slight pang of remorse. She ached for a familiar navy-haired warrior holding her instead.
.
Galen watched as Camdyn Whistletree whisked his pretty little blood elf on the dance floor. Mine. The word angrily shook through his body.
Yes, she was his. She was under his care, his watch, and his authority, and that made her his. He went through hell and back just to bring her here, to his home. He felt his skin burning on his body like it was coated in a light coat of acid. He wanted to rip them apart, and make the Ambassador pay for ever touching her. The bastard even made her laugh! Marcail looked like she was enjoying herself, as her beautiful smile was on display for Camdyn. That smile should have been gifted to him.
Galen held back a scoff as he faded behind the crowd that wasn't dancing. He was determined to get a dance with his blood elf.
.
Marcail finished yet another dance with the Ambassador, and she finally begged him to take a break with her and have some cooling water to drink. He tried to convince her for another dance after they had their refreshments, but she declined, telling him that she had a slight headache from all the excitement and needed to go to bed. Camdyn asked if he could see her again, and the blood elf inwardly flinched as she told him to ask the Moonglades for permission. He promised he would receive their blessing, before he gave her a kiss on her hand and took his leave. She smiled after him as he disappeared in the crowd.
The blood elf quickly found her feet as she started to walk toward the lake. After all, listening to a few songs before heading off to bed seemed soothing. The music that was being played now seemed softer than the earlier tunes. She decided that enjoying them by the seclusion of the lake would be most enjoyable. Marcail stepped lightly as she found a remote place near the forest to observe.
She took her spot and swayed with the music as she stood by the lake. She leaned her body against a tree, thoughtfully, as the glimmer on the water reflected back in her face and creamy shoulders. Wistfully thinking, the party the Moonglades threw reminded her of her own midsummer ball that was probably going to happen in Silvermoon in a week or two. She hadn't picked out her dress because her mother promised to take her shopping at the Bazaar. It was too bad that she wouldn't get to wear Lavena's dress in her hometown. She doubted she'd ever find one as pretty in Silvermoon.
"You look like you're waiting for something," a deep masculine voice said behind her. The blood elf jerked around, to see Galen coming toward her with a look of sheer determination on his face. "Or for someone." He grinned and stepped closer to her. She felt her heart leap into her throat.
"I'm waiting for neither," she replied in a voice so unlike her own; it sounded nervous, small, and unprepared to speak to the warrior. She cleared her throat, gently.
"I wanted to ask you if you would like to dance."
"No, thank you."
"Come on, I've been watching you all night. You like dancing."
"I don't know any of your dances."
"You did fine with Camdyn." In one movement, he scooped his arm around her small waist and pulled her closer to his body and his other hand laced with hers. They both instantly picked up the steps of an age-old dance from the time there was only one race of elves. Marcail wanted to fight back, but her body deliciously molded and softened to him on it's own accord.
"I wanted to tell you that you did wonderfully tonight." She sniffed in disagreement.
"I only stuck around for a few hours at most."
"You were very brave. I know it was hard for you."
"Then why did you make me do it?"
"Because I knew you could."
Silence between them settled as the music off in the distance still crept into the forest, as the wind blowing through the trees caused them to sway along with the two elves. Electricity shot between them, as the affects of the champagne instantly disappeared. There seemed to be a pattern. Whenever he gave her a look of hunger that gave into some unspoken desire, her senses when into overload. The feel of his bare hand on her naked shoulder made her body tingle all over.
"Also, you look beautiful tonight," he looked down at her and gave her a heart-stopping smile, and pulled her closer, so that the top of her breasts grazed his chest every so often. He also got a good look into her cleavage, with his towering height. She suddenly wished that Lavena hadn't let so much of her bosom exposed, as her softness gave into his rock hard male form. A light blush dusted her cheeks and nose. To tempt her even further he leaned to whisper in her ear, though they were far from being overheard. His proximity to her face brought tingles down her spine.
"I was going insane watching Camdyn talking to you. He even stole a genuine smile."
"Perhaps you should give me something to smile about, and I shall do the same for you," her voice sounded uneven and throaty as she turned her head to look him in the eyes. A twinkle reflected back at her as a roguish grin followed.
"I can give you that and so much more pleasure you've never even known." His seductive voice and proximity was beginning to overwhelm her. At the rate he was going, she might beg him to show her right here and now.
"We shouldn't," she began.
"I know, doesn't that make you want it more?" His hand shot up from her waist and cupped the back of her head to tilt her lips to his.
Their lips met, delicately, while he threaded his hand in her soft, honey-gold locks. He started their kiss gently, like he had before with all the others. Her body silently pleaded him as she softly kissed him back.
Dancing was forgotten as he started gently pushing her backward. He kept guiding them back, into the forest, away from prying eyes and judgmental stares. His answer to her statement filled her with warning bells. This was really going into dangerous territory, because what he said was so true. This waswrong. This went against everything she was taught, everything she was supposed to hold dear and what she was. Night elves were bad, kissing him was worse, but this just felt so right. The way he held her and gently caressed her at the small of her back, and the way he ran his strong, calloused finger pads so lightly across her bare shoulder, it all felt right. She felt herself being backed up into the trunk of a large tree, and he braced himself with one arm above her shoulder, and the other carefully slipping the sheer scarves from her shoulder off. They fell to her waist, but the corset still held her dress up.
Galen's arm splayed at the small of her back as he pulled her body into his own. She arched to him, with her belly and chest molded to his form. Very slowly, he pulled the ribbons of her corset. He was careful to drag out the process, gently coercing her to follow his movements. Precision and long periods of tension seemed to be working, the way she gave a soft sigh and relaxed when the ribbons were loose. He then grabbed the back of her thighs, his large hands grazing against her round bottom and coming dangerously close to her sex. She rewarded him with a pleasured gasp and tore herself away from his kiss, only to be recaptured again as his tongue rolled over her lower lip. He tilted her hips up and pulled her into his middle, as she still stood on the ground. He pressed his throbbing rod into her belly, driving her back into the tree. He couldn't get enough of her.
"Wrap your legs around me, Princess" he beckoned her, and then quickly recaptured her mouth.
Marcail moaned gently as she felt his fingers rubbing lazy circles around the sensitive area where her rump and the back of her thighs met. She complied, and he lifted her feet off of the grass. He moved her from the tree with ease, as if her added weight were nothing to him. The sounds of the wild nature of the forest filled the background noise as he growled into her, sending vibrations of pleasure down her body. He still held her tight in his grasp, protecting her from the decent to the ground. Marcail lowered her body to the cool grass beneath them. Galen followed her, leaning himself closer on top of her, pushing her skirts up over her smooth and creamy thigh. He pulled on the last ribbons holding the corset together, and she felt her chest expanding with each breath. She finally wiggled herself free and the world blurred and spun with all her breath returning to her lungs. She encouraged his pleasurable torture. Even if she wanted to she didn't know how to ask him to stop. She yielded without protest or a struggle, and all the while she found each new sensation brought her to a new high. She was so tired of fighting herself, and all of the blind anger had melted into blazing lust. Galen seemed to know exactly what she was feeling, and he knew how to answer that maddening call.
Galen pulled at the front of the corset, and nipped at her neck. Her breasts sprung free and he pulled himself up to admire them. He grinned wolfishly, as her creamy skin met the small circles of her pink nipples. She blushed nervously and looked away. Under the scrutiny of such an experienced lover, she feared she did not compare.
"Elune, you're beautiful," he breathed, and dove back down, ravishing her neck with little flicks of his tongue against her sweet spots. Her heart soared at his approval and his contact. One large hand came to caress a breast, and he kissed his way down to her collarbone, then her chest.
"What- Ohh!" She gasped as he closed his lips around one of her rosy nipples. The pleasure rolled over her in soft waves.
He wrapped his mouth around the rosette, as he tried to pull his mind back into his head. The little mage had devoured his mind, and gone was all thought of rationality. His body seared with heat as he ran his hands up her skirts, pushing them around her waist. Her heart skipped a beat when he brought his fingers to her pleasure nub and rubbed her gently. His vision went red as he felt her petals slick and wet for him. Masculine pride engulfed him as he teased her entrance, as he felt her tighten around his fingerpads.
Her heat soared, and her sex throbbed in remembrance of his hands there. She moaned in approval, throwing her head back and allowing her body the attention it so desperately pleaded for. She heard the shuffling of fabric, and he took his hand away from her. She wanted to cry out, but he fastened his mouth over her breast, nipping at the hard little bud that sent her to new thrilling heights. She sighed and relaxed, loving the feeling that swept over her body.
Suddenly, Marcail felt the length of him sliding inside her, and she froze. She choked and jerked when the deep pain ached within her and took over her senses. Galen felt her slick passageway close on him, but then he was met with a strong resistance. She cried out, then he held himself still and went rigid. His brows furrowed as he tore himself from her chest.
"You're still a virgin." He gritted. He felt a touch of anger for Marcail not sharing this with him before. He also could have made this a lot less painful if he had the warning.
"Don't be mad," she whispered, her voice pleading. Galen felt lower than dirt in that moment. He felt unworthy to take her after how he just spoke to her.
"I'm not mad, Princess. I just wish I had known before so I could have made that less painful." He softened, kissing her forehead and stroked her cheek with a finger. He kissed the tip of her nose, and then trailed down her neck, nibbling gently at her collarbone.
"I thought you wouldn't want me," she said, her voice growing husky with her arousal coming back. Galen stopped his caresses again to make unmistakeable eye contact with her emerald gaze.
"That would do nothing to dampen my need for you." He held her tight, "Trust me." The weight of his words and demeanor struck the mage speechless. He broke their gaze, as he went back to pleasuring her by nipping down to her breast. When his lips closed over a nipple, she moaned and arched her back to him.
"Please don't stop," she begged, wiggling her hips and stirring him inside her. Quick, hot waves shot up his rod, sending wild sensations of pleasure through his body. He gritted his teeth as he grabbed her hips to steady her and swore.
"If you don't stop that right now, I will not be able to hold myself back." He ground out through his locked jaw and corded muscles in his neck. His fingers buried themselves in her hips as he fought for control. Marcail stopped rolling her hips, eyes wide with wonder of what she had just done to him. He drew in a shaky breath and steadied himself.
"This will hurt for a little, but I promise it will subside," he murmured, as he began to shift his hips. He gently pushed himself inside her wet sheath, and he had to force himself to stop halfway, when he heard a tiny whimper. He bowed his head back down to her breast and laved at one, and brought his hand around to play with the other. He rolled the hard nub with his fingers, and she shivered beneath him. He pulled his hips back, and allowed himself a shallow thrust back inside her wet channel.
The powerful ache returned, and she almost asked him to stop. He continued his slow torture on her breasts, and each nibble, pinch and suck sent waves of pleasure that took over the pain. Galen kept his steady rhythm, she felt it melt away as he promised. Her body responded as she felt him thrust deeper into her, and she curled her back to him, offering more of herself.
He felt more of his control quickly slipping away with each stroke into her tight wet grip. She slowly warmed and relaxed to him, and he felt her jitters quiet down. She gave a deep sigh, and she finally opened herself completely to him. Droplets of sweat formed on his forehead, as he strained to hold in his release. He shocked himself with how quickly he was ready to spill, but the way her small body accommodated his sensitive girth quickly reminded him this was no ordinary lay. He looked up at her, to see her eyes closed and panting lightly. He brought himself over her, and lowered his face to hers.
"Open your eyes," he beckoned her, and she lightly opened her heavy lids, gazing back at him with hunger. "I want to watch you come apart in my arms." He murmured, and with that he sheathed himself completely, reaching deeper and demanding her channel to take all of him. She gasped and her hands clasped his forearms that braced himself above her. He curled his hips back and dove into her again, and she shuttered hard. Her mind was taken completely in his hardness driving into her depths, and each thrust pushing against something inside her that made her see stars. Before she even knew she was building, her climax shattered around her, and she threw her head back and cried out, as her walls convulsed around his length. Galen finally let himself go as he felt her wet heat surround him, squeezing and caressing his member. He gave a deep, guttural groan as he felt his orbs tighten and he expelled the white ribbons of his seed deep within her. He sighed and collapsed beside her.
Marcail winced in pain as he withdrew, and then he gathered her up in his arms from behind. She felt him bury his face in her hair and breathe deep. She gave a deep sigh and relaxed into his embrace. They lay there, quietly just listening to the sounds of each others breaths as they melded with the sounds of the forest.
As the affects of the afterglow started to wear off, Galen sat up, and pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his dress suit. He reached underneath her skirts and between the mage's slender legs to clean his seed and her maidenhead from her inner thighs and petals. The mage blushed with the act and started to cover herself in modesty, but he moved her hands away.
"Please don't," he begged. She snapped to attention, wondering if she heard him right. He was begging? His eyes softened at met hers. "You're so beautiful, I can't imagine why you feel you need to cover up."
He pulled her head toward his and gave it a gentle, light kiss. When he released her, she still wore the light blush in her cheeks. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, and she parted her lips. Her glistening skin caught the moonlight peaking through the trees. He forgot how to breathe as her catlike eyes glittered at him. Her pert nose twitched a little as she gave a little grin.
"What are you thinking right now?"
"I could search Azeroth for a thousand years and not find another woman as beautiful as you are." She blushed deeper, as she tried to look away.
Galen quickly realized she hadn't been told that before, or she honestly didn't share the same opinion of herself. It was refreshing to know that little fact. Especially since the blood elves carried themselves with such an air of superiority. Even in his short time of fighting with them, Galen could feel the conceit when they crossed blades. Most blood elves he had seen in Dalaran were stunning, but they all knew it. Marcail didn't share this trait, even with her aristocratic blood line. Sure, Galen had his own arrogance, but it had nothing to do with how he looked. He felt he earned a decent amount of respect in the Alliance after everything he had done for them.
"From this night forward, Marcail," she met his gaze when he said her name, "I want you to share my bed." The mage grew concerned as the weight of his words settled with her.
"I don't think that's a good idea. Your family-"
"My family doesn't dictate my life. I want you to stay with me, every night that you are here." Her heart fluttered against her ribs.
"You don't really understand what you're asking. I'm still a blood elf."
"I don't care if you are a consort troll to Thrall himself. I want you with me. Promise me." His voice grew brisk and raw with his last words. She slowly nodded, staring deep into his pleading amber eyes.
"I promise," she echoed, not really taking into account what she had agreed to. All she knew was that she had brought the seasoned warrior to beg. She had to admit, if all love-making sessions were going to be like the one they just shared, she was going to be pleased. In every way the warrior could find.
"Now that just leaves us with one problem." He gave a playful grin, as a lock of his dark hair fell over his eyes.
"Oh? What's that?" She sighed, still enchanted with him and his smile.
"How are we going to get back to the house?"
.
They had worked out a way that kept themselves mostly out of view to the party. Galen helped Marcail lace back up into her gown, and tried to brush off the dirt and grass as best he could. Marcail smoothed her hands over the wrinkles.
"I'm going to enjoy removing this from you again," he winked and she smiled and rolled her eyes. Truthfully, so was she. She helped straighten Galen's clothes before he sent her back to the house.
"Just stick to the lake, and go around to the front door. You should not run into anyone in that case."
"And if I run into someone?" She asked, anxiously.
"Make it quick, and stand away from the light. I will be right behind you." He promised. They made their way to the forest clearing, and the mage retrieved headband she had unknowingly lost. She replaced it on her head, and glanced back at the warrior before she walked out. He gave her a smile of encouragement. She tentatively returned it, and briskly walked the path to the lake.
Each step was painful, and she felt warm liquid drip down her thighs. She grasped the gown in each hand as she hiked the skirts up slightly. The sooner she got in cover, the sooner she could get the sticky liquid off of her legs. The pain in her womb started again, and she clenched her teeth. It would be much more painful to be caught in such a compromising state. She kept glancing up at the party, and saw that a several groups of night elves were by the lake area and on the dock. She kept her head down, and tried to walk a little faster, as she felt the burn of eyes on her body. She prayed to the Light that no one tried to stop her.
Once she reached the trees beside the house, she followed the path that led to the front door of the estate. When she got to the clearing, she almost gasped with the view of all the carriages and driving teams in the sprawling front yard. It expanded on all of the lawn, and a receiving line on the opposite side of the house was still being served. She crept to the front door and let herself in, but not before the whole crowd of night elves got a glimpse of her heading inside. She slammed the door shut behind her, and threw her back against the wood, bracing herself. She expelled a breath she didn't know she was holding as she collected her thoughts.
What in hellfire just happened? She was happily kissing Galen, and then, wham! She was hit with such an unstoppable force, and she had given her maidenhead to him! A night elf! Was she mad?
Then, she remembered his touch trailing a length of flame in its wake on her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes as she felt his embrace and his lips. She almost gasped as she could have sworn she felt the feel of his teeth on her hard buds. She reached up and clasped a breast and her heart swelled as big as her body. It seemed that she was more teased then sated with their coupling. She felt her body nagging her to hurry up and get settled in Galen's room. There wasn't any time for regrets when he had promised another love making session.