Lyria gave one of those nervous laughs but the sharp edge in my glare made it clear that her charm would only get her so far. She raised her hands and slowly brushed my failing locks of hair from my face. She lightly fingered a loose tendril of hair around my cheek and gave it a playful tug before hooking it behind my ears. Lyria was careful not to let her fingers touch my skin.

My stern gaze still rested on Lyria. When she tried to meet my gaze, she felt her will failing and quickly averted her gaze.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am a tiefling with a visible demonic bloodline. Due to that, my muscle and tissue growth were different,” she continued till my hiss cut her short.

“If I wanted an anatomy lesson, I would have stripped you and I have done it enough to know that. I want to know, WHAT.ARE.YOU?”

Lyria had the look of a lamb separated from her herd and cornered by hungry wolves.

A pool of clear liquid welled in her eyes. Her wide luscious lips quivered, held by apprehension.

“I am just a lone blacksmith woman in love with an impossible lady, far beyond my reach, too perfect like stepping out of a lucid dream,” answered Lyria.

“A simple blacksmith,” I scoffed with an exaggerated tone, “who ordered a Prime Demon to return. If that creature stepped through, I would require every Sequestered Conciliator that the council could deploy and the full power of my house and possibly an alliance with tonal patriarchs just to force him back.”

Her eyes darted around, searching for her prized Warhammer. Sweat mottled her palms. She wanted the feeling of something tangible in her hands.

“I would thank the fortunes, even if half of those who followed me returned,” I added.

“Rils, I mentioned before that I was raised in a cult. I escaped and killed a few pursuing demons along the way,” slowly replied Lyria.

Why can’t she be precise?

Why does Lyria expect me to work to get all the information?

“A few?” I asked.

“I have been keeping a low profile until you came back into my life,” responded Lyria. A small pause hung between her every syllable.

“So everything is my fault. Is the truth just something that you mould to fit your narrative?”

The sibilant hiss in my own voice, caught me surprised, especially considering who the target of my anger was.

Taking a very short deep fraction of a breath and with a sharp hiss, Lyria reached out her hand with her extended fingers towards me. Her fingers reached short before my lips and stopped.

“I did not intend it that way. You are worthy of breaking every vow,” responded Lyria as she reached closer with trembling hands. Her warm breath tickled my cheeks. Her scent carried the petrichor smell of freshly rained earth. I was slowly enveloped in her candid warmth.

“Who I am, does it really change what you feel for me deep down?” she asked.

She was right. I felt a rush of embarrassment at poking into her past. Given her troubled childhood and the untold abuse she suffered, It was inconsiderate of me to broach the subject.

“What about the filicides that Zor’amoth hinted, Lyria?” I asked.

“Rils, as Matriarch, have you not executed corrupt officials?”

During my initial campaigns, one of my decorated officers raped a young girl. Since the hamlet where the woman resided was isolated and a contested region, both the military and civil officials collaborated to cover the incident. But nevertheless, word reached my ears. In the end, I decided on public execution for all the officials involved despite plea petitions from families of the officials and the drow council. Being the Matriarch of the house, in a different perspective, I have slain my own children too.

“Zor’amoth is prime demon from the scourge warren. Though the scourge warren does not have a tendency to lie, but like any prime, he will cast the truth die and magnify the facet that benefits him,” uttered Lyria.

My brows furrowed at her words. Her explanation rang true but there was something intangible, like attempting to hold fine sand in one’s hand. It slipped my grasp.

“I know how you feel about demons; in dealing with extraplanar entities. But what you feel for me, will it change if I were a human blacksmith or a demon lord or an archfiend? “

I knew the answer in a heartbeat. There was never a doubt. There was an eager affection from her; an affection that said, deep down, she knew the answer too. A strange sensuous light passed between us. Her eyelids fluttered for a very brief hesitant moment. Possessed by a stirred urge, her hand slowly circled my face.

And then my calm was overwhelmed by the passion in her kiss. My anger eroded before her moist inviting lips and I willingly gave myself to her passion. The caress of her lips on my mouth, along my body set aflame and a wild twirl in the pit of my stomach. All rationale abandoned, I hungrily held, and covered her mouth with my lips. My darting tongue prodded the strong hardness of her lips, ravenous and exploratory. Lyria’s moaning sounds unfurled a tempestuous storm in my head. Her mouth opened wider, allowed to eagerly engage my probing tongue. Lyria hungrily sucked my exploring tongue. My pulse throbbed, quick and heavy with each intake. With each heated movement, I whimpered under her tender onslaught, an erotic moan, alive with expectation. Her own plush moan sent soft sensual shivers up my spine.

Both of our feet unsteady, I pushed Lyria hard till she backed against a low crumbled block. We were both eager to liberate the dark globe of her breasts from the pathetic confines of her tattered shirt. I tore her shirt, revealing her dark supple breasts; her ebony nipples already obsidian hard. Lyria grappled against the crumbling stone with callous hands. She had the need to hold herself; leaving me to lead our passionate dance.

My hands slid down gently, circled around the outline of her breast, and slowly circled inwards towards her anticipating nipple. Her breast surged at the intimacy of my touch. I fondled them with a little twist and curl, drawing pleasured moans from her. I slowly brushed the shapely slope of her breast. With palms upward, pressed by desire, like a hungry predator snatching prey, I held both her tits, fondling them. I slid my fingers slowly up, softly poked the steely peak of her dark ebony nipple and rolled it between two non-calloused fingers. The slight pressure elicited from my fingers piqued a yelp of gratification from Lyria. She pulled harder against her grip of me, moaning at her peaking arousal. Lyria dropped her head on my shoulders and her teeth sunk into my flesh -- a tender bite born of desperate struggle.

My hand grazed her nipple again; teasing the sensitive spot of sensation. From her steamy response, I knew what I should do next. I lowered my head towards her inviting breast. My lips curled in a perfect circle around her tiny dark nipple, and my tongue swayed; twirled and traced curves like stokes from the brush of a master painter. My hot inflamed breath tickled the upper side of her breast; my saliva glided over her smooth skin.

“Oh god.... FUCK....yes! Rils, yes! let me strip you.....please?” she pleaded.

Her hands eagerly explored, running over my body and finally settled to toying the waistband of my breeches. I pushed her hands; ignored her plea and continued alternating my tongue between her sensitive swollen nipples.

Lyria lowered her head and slowly whispered in my ears. A bead of sweat trickled downwards, from her forehead, down her angular cheekbones.

“Rils, Please....don’t tease me....oh LET ME DO IT.”

With trembling hands, she tried to undo the knot of my breeches. Her actions agitated the intense churning in my groin. But I still chuckled at her intensity to rid herself of the offending impediment. She wanted the knot undone, for the taut breeches to fall away, exposing me completely to her begging tongue. But I had other plans.

“Give me something to play with first,” I purred in her ears.

Lyria stared at my face, the meaning of my words caused her to lower her head and blush deeply.

Then she resisted, unwillingly. It did not matter, I suppose. I quickly drew my hand towards the cut in her skirt. Gently pulling on the insides of her thighs; her legs parted ever so slightly. She had worn undergarments which left only a tiny modest part covered; a tiny modest part now soaked with a wet flagrancy. Her rustic loin cloth did nothing to her juices inside from spilling out, over her bare leg. I touched a finger to her mound. Her whole body shook like leaves in a high wind.

“Fuck....Yes! Rils....oh God....Please don’t tease me......oh God....I can’t resist you.....Never!!! Fuck.....I am begging you.....Let me...” murmured Lyria lustily. Her pleas sounded weak; tired and needy.

I pushed her down.

“For a demon, you do call the gods a lot,” I smirked while pulling her loin cloth off. Her resistance ceased and with that came her lustful pliant invitation; flooding over my abused heart with soothing desire.

“If you are begging, you should know how to beg.....On your knees,” I commanded.

With head bowed, Lyria softly asked, “Am I in trouble?”

“You have been keeping secrets; that's being naughty,” I fake admonished her, “And naughty bold minx like you, needs to be put in her place.”

With a gentle push, I forced Lyria onto her knees. I knelt beside her. With a gentle sway, Lyria rested on her haunches, bending down and offering up the nether regions of her lower body, to me; to sate my lust-filled gaze over the dark folds of her labia.

Lust took over other rational thoughts. I could never say no to her wild appearance. My fingers parted the twin slits, till the lambent wet pearl nestled between the folds, presented itself to me. Even though she was wet, I took the moment, to lick my fingers, covering them with my saliva. Satisfied, I slowly parted her folds again. Anticipating what my perverted mind desired, Lyria’s thighs clamped together. I wiggled my fingers between them, gently parting her thighs. Trembling involuntarily, Lyria gasped loudly.

I laughed lightly, “Now, my little minx, spread your sweet slit.”

Tense and uncertain, she slowly pushed apart the folds of her labia. Fresh warmth swept across my senses. With my little finger resting and occasionally tracing playful curves above the entrance to her forbidden temple, I brazenly admired the entirety of her alluring naked womanhood.

“it is a sin to hide this glorious beauty,” I taunted with effrontery, “Open that lovely little snatch wide.”

A string of sensuous pleas danced in her voice. Finding my roguish gaze unfazed, she gave a coy smile and despite her fingers wandering around her clit, her inner labia closed tightly together. I finally slid my own fingers down, and with my middle finger parted her folds again. The exposed curve of her vulva; slick and with a distinct tantalizing scent; and her erotic moaning sigh, mingled together, providing further fuel to my carnal lust. My fingers touched perfectly where she needed them. I gently applied the right amount of pressure, eliciting another carnal lust-filled sigh from her.

She quivered under the intimate touch. Her eyes fluttered shut as I slowly rubbed my fingers around her clit, preparing her; easing her. With meticulous care, I pinched the little bean between my thumb and index finger. Applying gentle pressure, I gave it a small tiny swirl. Lyria responded with her eyes tightly shut and she moaned, a little more intense than before. Her whole body shook and shuddered. Each of her soft luscious moan came back to me; urging me to strip -- encouraging me to fulfil my own feminine satisfaction.

With each moan, the call intensified until it became hard to refuse; increasing gradually like a rising tidal wave. I quickly placated her moans by latching onto her plush succulent lips with a deep kiss. Though anxious; Lyria only melted into my loving embrace. Her wail of passion reduced to a low whimpering moan at my closeness.

As she felt the touch of my lips upon hers again, her inhibitions disappeared. The lustful passion coursed through her, unreined. Against a deep purr, I rubbed; massaged her clit. Her nipples hardened, and her breathing became even more erratic as a rapid and potent heat raced through her body. An excited sob from her broke her mouth from our loving connection. Soft kisses from me coaxed them back together. A huffing sound issued from her nostrils, filled with desire and passion -- produced from the red hot furnace of carnality.

My free arm encircled her neck. Holding her firm against me, I tenderly rubbed the back of her neck; occasionally, caressing the back of her earlobe. I pampered and tantalized her erotic temptations; desecrated every taboo against indulgence. She finally surrendered to her powerful urges, enjoying and letting herself loose to the constant ravaging. Baring herself to me in every way possible, she consumed every lustful nuance offered.

As her low whimpering moan and the convulsion of her body intensified, I massaged her clit in a matching rhythm; drawing a positive feedback from her response to my action. Whenever my rubbing reached the natural rhythms of her explosive pleasure, she would let a cute and adorable moaning sound. Eventually, when the perception of time lost its meaning, Lyria was already rocked by a small series of orgasms. All she could do was bask in her long-overdue release.

As I drove Lyria higher towards the cliff of sexual satisfaction, she involuntarily retaliated with a projection of her own. I found my own undergarments soaked. I playfully tapped Lyria’s nose before I twisted around her.

Lyria considered me with a calm predatory gaze. Her entire being transfixed on me with a zealous hunger. With a gush of bliss; she succumbed fully to her ravenous urge and wrapped her legs around me. Lyria pushed me on my back and with forceful ministrations, straddled on top of me. Her eyes gleamed with unsated carnal lust.

“I just told a demon Monarch to shove it up her rear end. What makes you think I would let you walk all over me?” asked Lyria. At the same instance, her powerful hands ripped my shirt.

“Because of two things,” I smirked.

Lyria ignored my words. She struggled with the knots of my breeches. Finally muttering a curse, Lyria yanked my breeches apart. When she saw the wetness surrounding my leather subligaculum, a lewd suggestive smile danced on her face. With a gentle twist, she forced me to lie on my stomach. Her rough hands grabbed the strings of my subligaculum and jerking it, she yanked it free, profanely exposing me. She continued teasing my aroused vulva, in the same manner, I fondled her nipples. With her strong hand holding me down, I could only pant heavily.

“Rils, lift your cunt,” she commanded.

I knew Lyria could be uncouth but her wanton choice of words caught me off guard. But her lewd profanities ignited a blazing flare in me. My thighs opened wider. Lyria moved back between my legs. Her doe-eyed gaze quenched her carnal thirst with the sight of my immodest exposure.

“Now that is no way to talk to a Lady,” I corrected her.

Lyria noticed the playful grimace on my face and matching erotic mirth contorted her features.

“My Lady Rylonvirah, would you please graciously raise your regal cunt,” she repeated politely -- supposedly.

“Don’t you dare do it,” I warned.

“Why?” she defiantly asked.

“Because I am going to pose the question,” I replied.

Uncertainity held one of Lyria’s hands while trepidation held the other. I slowly turned to gaze into her eyes, for what I was about to ask, I needed to look into her eyes.

“Lyriendriath of the undying forge, will you marry me?” I finally popped the question.

Lyria knew what I expected from her. She understood what I envisioned for us.

“If you say yes, we will beeline for Sarenthill. We make it official and you can have all this glorious view and much more anytime you wish.” I nudged Lyria with my words. Her eyes travelled upwards, from my calves to my thighs and lingered for a moment longer around the luscious curves of my butt before moving up towards my waist. She got the right idea of the glorious view.

Lyria’s body quaked and quivered from excitement. Her hesitation immediately vanished. Tears swelled in her eyes. Not a tear of embarrassment or remorse; just tears of a sudden influx of euphoric emotions. I deliberately posed the question in this position to challenge the inner spark in her darkened life. Lyria wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and she smiled one of her most seductive smiles. A radiant glow in her cheeks shadowed any blemish; covering any sign of pain, from the ordeal we just survived.

“Yes Rils,” She said easily and took a deep breath before continuing, “Yes I do!”

With her arms stretched, she cupped her hands around my neck and drew me in, to catch my blushing cheeks. Her bright silver grey eyes glowed even more brighter as she searched mine, with a new found curiosity. Satisfied with whatever she sought in me, she clasped her arms tightly around me. As if we were in the middle of practising coitus, we switched positions, lying side by side and close to each other.

Lyria was about to say something when I raised my fingers to her lips and shushed her to silence.

“Now the second thing that I mentioned, with the number of corpses lying around, the One-Horned-Warlord’s necromancers will have their work cut out. Soon Mikhul’s Redoubt will be overrun with undead,” I revealed.

“Then we should head back, meet with Tharkas and the others,” acknowledged Lyria but her forehead wrinkled with furrows, “But how are we going to explain our present state.”

Once again her words reminded me of how I fell in love with her oblivious simplicity, her candid innocence and her inability to lie.

“Simple, my love. The Hydra’s acid spewed and burned through our clothes,” I offered with a twinkle in my eyes.

ElenaV

This chapter took a deranged trail. Originally, I did not want **plan** for the vivid scenes to happen. But my inner muse was forced into the almost smut territory. I went with the flow.
This was my first time attempting to pen anything remotely sexual. So if any of you have any tips for improvement, I would gladly welcome them.
Having said that, I should also mention that, in a surprising revelation, write erotic scenes was actually a lot easier than writing action scenes. No wonder, SH is filled with SMUT writers.