These facts; those of dehydration and exhaustion; did little to nothing to stifle the previous night’s still-burning embers. If anything, Zel’s total lack of modesty in this private setting only combined with her teasing nature to fan the flame all over again.
Zef retreated to the bedroom, deciding this was the best possible time to go through with a plan she’d hatched days prior, having both taken things out of Fog Storage and visited the Honest Snake-oil Salesman on her own.
No more than some two, maybe three minutes could’ve passed when Zel heard Zef call out from within the bedroom: “Zel, can you help me with something?”
“What is-” she began as she opened the door, only to find herself at a loss for words, unable to do anything but stare.
Zefaris stood holding her hands behind her back, adorned in something Zelsys remembered vividly from the dungeon hoard, as it was one of the pieces that had caught her attention even back there. Part delicate gold chains decorated by tiny pieces of jade, part translucent black silk, and altogether the exact opposite of modest clothing, or even clothing at all for that matter. It was more like a full-body piece of jewelry.
“I uh… Can’t seem to get this off on my own,” the blonde smiled a feigned innocence, tugging at the bejeweled chains and spiderweb-thin silks that clung to every tiny curve, only serving to accentuate that which they covered.
Somehow, this ridiculous getup, this garment which signified hedonism masquerading behind royalty, roused the flame within her loins more intensely than actual, full nudity ever could. Zef’s overt invitation erased what little reason Zelsys saw to get a hold of herself, the beast-slayer willingly giving into the provocation, pressing her lover up against the wall, lifting her up by her legs as they embraced.
Zel’s mind nearly went blank right then and there when she felt Zef’s precise fingers slip between her legs, effortlessly finding her most vulnerable spots, inserting something small and hard; something which began shuddering violently moments later, when Zef’s hand had withdrawn and when she had already begun massaging a particular spot on Zel’s stomach in an effort to coax out her member. An effort that was nearly instantaneously successful, as Zelsys fought to maintain a shred of composure against the multi-front sensory assault.
Moments after it slipped out of her body and inflated with blood, Zef’s hand was already there to direct it to her lower lips. Her upper pair had already found their way towards Zel’s neck, slowly working their way down to her nipple in an exploitation of size difference. Despite the fact that it was Zefaris being held up against the wall, she was the one in control here, and Zelsys was all too happy to go along with it, ever so slowly moving her hips whilst lowering Zed down. The blonde readily wrapped her legs around her waist, clamping on and using her own strength to further aid in the act.
Zel had yet to get even slightly used to the feeling of her partner’s insides squeezing around so sensitive a part of herself.
Its entire length was sensitive to even slight touch, sending waves of heat-like stimulation throughout her entire lower half and stoking a tangible pressure somewhere deep inside, but it was the flesh-bulb at its base that was most tender. Each squeeze of its mass, each thrust - whether it merely pressed up against Zef’s entrance or pushed its way inside - sent a jolt of stimulation through her body, such that her body responded with an intensified burning of fulgur for that split-second.
Each and every time that pressure built to a head an uncontrollable urge to speed up took hold, until she had passed over the edge and released the pressure in an outpouring of bodily fluids. Something in the back of her mind said this wasn’t right, that there should be a short time period of rest after every release, but she didn’t care.
For this moment, she would play the part of a conqueror ravaging a concubine, even if the illusion was thinner than paper. The constant jangling of jewelry and subtle tugging of her own undergarments served the opposite of a distraction.
It only helped reinforce the fantasy as she relentlessly pounded her knot into Zefaris time and time again, slowly dragging her from that position of power into a dripping, shuddering mess, her face covered in runny makeup as she clung on and continuously made staggeringly authoritative, if strained demands: “By t-the de-a-ad ones, ha-ha-harder! HARDER!”
Zel felt and heard the vibrating something clatter out onto the floor at some point, though it didn’t matter.
Despite both their superhuman endurance, however, something eventually had to give.
That something was hunger - the sort of overwhelming hunger that could only be born from protracted physical exertion combined with lack of food, which made the sight grow faint and the body weak.
When hunger at last forced them to once more clean themselves up, get dressed properly, and leave their chambers, Ozmir served them breakfast of fish fillet fried on butter with herbs and a side of rice. It was just as delicious, filling, and fresh as it was strange-tasting, though in the way brought on by arcane herbs that probably refused to grow outside of comically specific conditions.
Upon questioning whether he’d been waiting for them to wake up, he laughed and said that he just had a time-dilated Fog Storage device in the kitchen that could keep a meal fresh for days, and that he’d prepared this one yesterday night after realizing that they would likely be staying the night, as he hadn’t seen them leave the elder’s quarters despite seeing them enter.
They continued where they’d left off training yesterday, taking breaks between bouts to cool off, rest, and so that Zefaris could gather her thoughts, writing down several pages’ worth over the course of the time spent. Despite her outward frustration, it wasn’t at the situation, but at gaps in her technique that she deemed to be “beginner fuckups” as she herself put it.
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