A Conflict of Interest.

The touch of his hand on her back, the pressure of it as it drew her harder against him...it was a simple action, certainly, but it struck the elven woman deeply. What she had felt in their shared dream - it was nothing compared to the fire that was set within her soul at this moment.

Gods, was this what she had been told of for so long? It seemed unbelievable to her that anyone could survive without it, once attained. Her attraction to Nathaniel was quite literally fatal; she'd die for him, without question. She feared the grief of his loss - whether it be in the years to come, through a noble marriage, or an entire human lifespan away, or to a tragic early death - whatever scenario it was that would steal him away, it was immediately pressing. For the first time she felt the ticking of the clock...and each movement of the hand was excruciating.

The floodgates had been opened and there was nothing in the world that could stop Setharia from drowning in her passions. Every second mattered.

His hand slipped beneath the leather material of her armor, sliding down to cup one of her firm ass cheeks. She instinctively pressed herself harder against him as his fingers grasped and pulled at her rear.

At length she broke their kiss and drew back her face. She stared into his eyes with a sweet smile upon her lips. It was impossible to not see the child he once was; but now the memories were simply a reflection of the man he had become, not something she defined him upon. There was no resisting the way that she felt for him, not anymore, and she wasn't even going to make herself feel guilty about it.

It was an entirely new form of magic.

Setharia suddenly recalled the last words she had heard in her dream. Until next time. Nathaniel had willed their encounter to end, right as they were about to... Oh.

There was no other thought but to explore the height of pleasures they could achieve in reality. Her hands found the bottom hem of his shirt, her fingers caressing upwards and exploring his defined stomach as she sought to remove the article of clothing. It wasn't but a moment before the garment was pulled away from him entirely and cast aside.

She studied his naked chest with a mischievous grin. "So we meet again."

An arch smile crossed Setharia's face as she studied the hard, immaculately chiselled contours of Nathaniel's chest. He had seen that smile on women's faces before -that teasing little secret smile that so often seemed to precede nights of pure, unbridled passion, but he had only ever wanted to see it on Setharia's face. His grip on her ass tightened.

He was about to suggest that the lovely elf mage evened the score, when an idea occured to him. He focused once again, already now more sure of what he was doing and how to achieve the effect he needed. He focused on the buckles of Setharia's tightly fitting leather cuirass and slowly willed them undone.

With all the passion of Nathaniel's will behind it, the buckles complied, opening up like the petals of a flower. The armour slid from Setharia's slender shoulders. Underneath, her large breasts were just barely contained by the undershirt she wore beneath her armour.

Nathaniel wanted to simply undo its buttons as well, but he hesitated. That was a more delicate operation of will, he instinctively understood. The fiery inferno of lust within him had been an asset in undoing the tough leather buckles, but if he applied it to Setharia's shirt buttons, they'd simply be scythed through.

He kissed her, and slid his hands from her rear to her chest, and began slowly and lovingly undoing the buttons of her shirt.

Nathaniel's display of will gave his elven mentor some theories to consider in regards to his powers and how she may foster them - but at present she could be little more than impressed by the sudden manifestation of control. She shifted her shoulders and held her arms in such a way so as to not hinder the complete removal of her boiled leather breastplate.

Their lips instinctively found each other. Setharia wrapped her arms loosely around her prince's shoulders as she felt his hands trailing from her hindquarters to her chest. His hands grazed lightly over her breasts, no doubt feeling the perk of her nipples through her thin blouse. His hands moved on, though, and his fingers tasked themselves with diligently unworking the buttons of her garment.

She purred and grinded her hips against him, pressing his thick length between her legs. There was still entirely too much clothing, though...

Setharia suddenly climbed off of his lap. She offered an outreached hand to him, inviting him to his feet. "Come, I have a place in mind."

She flash him a grin as she dropped her hand, walking backwards as she started to further disrobe herself. It was but moments before she was sliding leather breeches down her tanned legs, abandoning them in a puddle as she continued to move. She hadn't been wearing boots and so when she turned away from him the only clothing upon her form was panties and her thin flowing blouse, which remained half unbuttoned. Setharia spun on her heel rather abruptly, taking to a playful run into the forest.

Nathaniel had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't still in a dream. Was he really here, fulfilling the secret erotic fantasies he'd so often entertained. All he'd ever longed for was Setharia's hot, sweet kiss, to touch her perfect body and hear her moans of desire. Now that he'd finally kissed those lips, he knew the truth that he'd long suspected. Mortal lovers could never satisfy him now that he'd had just a taste of Setharia's attentions. If it was her will, he would run behind her through the forest until he dropped of exhaustion.

But judging by the arch, seductive glance she gave him over her shoulder, she had no intention of making him run so far. She was extraordinarily beautiful in motion, her slender body moving with coordinated, economical grace from her golden tanned, silky smooth legs to her toned, delectable rear and straight, slim back. For a young and redblooded man like Nathaniel, it took very little imagination to consider how the unearthly grace and endurance of that supple, flexible body would translate to the bedroom.

He himself was in peak physical condition and could easily have caught up with Setharia, tackled her, put his arms around her slender waist and brought her to the forest floor to have his way with her there and then. But he was enchanted by her playful, mischevious mood. He kept two or three paces behind her, staring with unabashed hunger at her perfect ass, only the thin fabric of her panties concealing the firm flesh from his view.

It was only a matter of minutes before Setharia's path through the maze of trees brought them to the mouth of a small, narrow chasm. The elf performed a graceful spin to ensure that Nathaniel had kept pace with her; which, of course, he had. As so without delay she bound into the crack of the sheer face of rock.

There was only a faint magical signature within the air but no doubt the talented young prince would notice it. It grew stronger, the deeper they traveled. All in all, though, the chasm was the span of perhaps the length of sixty meters, growing more narrow with each footfall. It wasn't until they approached an area barely wide enough to accommodate the width of Nathaniel's shoulders that the woman stopped.

Setharia turned to face her soon-to-be lover. "I was drawn to this place once. Ever since I've suffered a terrible compulsion to return."

From the looks of it, there was nothing here. Just sheer rock faces and a scant amount of vegetation.

"It took me several years just to figure out how to enter the shrine. Not that I sat here and stared at it, but... In my travels between the capitol and Daegarr I've always camped nearby."

The elf turned to face one of the rock faces, placing one hand flat against the smooth surface. A soft incantation in her native tongue was given and the solid form before her wavered and dissolved. Left in the wake was a carved archway and a descending stair. She cast a soft smile in Nathaniel's direction before leading the way.

The stairwell was dim and made of nothing but solid rock. It wasn't very steep and it extended for approximately twenty meters before giving way to a large circular room. It, like its entrance, was carved entirely of stone. A vaulted ceiling allowed in a small amount of light through a system of ducts, which were cut in a series of large arcs that resembled several broken circles. It was impossible to tell how far any of them extended before breaking through the earth above.

"I don't know what this shrine honored," she admitted as she let her eyes explore the area. In the middle of the room was an alter. Thirteen large pillars lined the outer portion of the room, reaching only half way to the ceiling, while two taller ones stood nearer to the center. "I'm certain it's elven," she continued. "Probably abandoned around the time your ancestors took claim of the territory."

She turned to him then, took hold of his hands. Started to lead him towards the alter.

Setharia wasn't entirely sure why she wanted to have their intimate encounter here. It could have been the ambience. It could have just as easily been that her mother was a High Priestess and so the act in itself was incredibly taboo. Whatever it was, she had always imagined sharing this place with a lover. She hadn't known who, or when, but she had never had the desire to drag anyone here until Nathaniel.

Nathaniel understood at once. To his mind, there was something sacred about their first coupling, as there would be about all of their couplings -and not just because he fully intended to make Setharia scream out the names of all the gods in Heaven as he pleasured her. There was a holy, numinous feeling in the air here.

With a sudden, effortless movement, he wrapped his arms around Setharia's lithe, slender form and lifted her up on to the altar, seating her there so her legs dangled down.

He took a moment to take her in. His Setharia. No goddess and no queen could have been more beautiful than his gorgeous, sunkissed nymph, his elven enchantress. Her sheer white blouse, half undone, did little to conceal the clean, lush lines of her breasts, paler where the sun had not touched them. And beneath her panties...

A wicked grin flashed across Nathaniel's handsome face. There was time, still, to delay their final, achingly perfect, union. And he had a little worshipping of his own in mind.

He knelt before Setharia and slowly and reverentially slid her panties down her legs and on to the stony floor before beginning to kiss and lick the smooth flesh of her inner thighs, moving in slow sweeps that each time came closer to the sweet, sweet treasure of her sex.

The elf watched as her prince knelt down before her. As he lowered himself his fingers curled over the upper hem of her panties, the sweep of his hands carrying the silken material towards her feet at a measured pace.

Setharia could not help but to marvel. Nathaniel Tyrelliaire would one day be a king. She knew that she would lose him to his duty – to his wife or kingdom – and yet… The way it felt, his touch, even just the way he looked at her made whatever heartbreak she may suffer completely worthwhile.

Such thoughts could not linger as the man positioned himself between her legs, his lips pressing tenderly against Setharia’s inner thigh. A light gasp escaped her as his tongue flicked against her tanned flesh; already the woman could feel herself trembling, though she wasn't entirely certain it was from their physical contact alone.

“Oh, Nathaniel…” she praised just above a whisper.

From her position on the ledge of the alter Setharia could hardly press herself any farther forward. And so, as Nathaniel graced her inner thighs with his attentions: she was at his mercy. With each pass between her legs, he seemed to get closer while remaining at a teasingly torturous distance.

Elves were nothing if not patient: Setharia, however, found herself issuing a soft, pleading whine. Wordlessly she shifted her hips, parted her legs a little further. A hand reached forward to run through the man’s dark hair, her fingers seeking to slip under the smooth surface of his tied-back strands. Desperately the woman fought the instinct to pull him towards her lap. Instead, she allowed her hand to linger lightly, giving loving caresses.

A wordless, husky whine of need arose from Setharia's cherry-ripe lips but Nathaniel didn't need it to know what she wanted. Her hand rested gently on his head, stroking and caressing, but he didn't need its guidance either. And most gloriously of all, the delicate petals of her sex were slick and wet with the dew of her arousal, that wonderful spicy scent, familiar from his dream, rising up in all its delicious fragrance. But he knew Setharia's desires on a deeper and more obscenely intimate level than that. He could feel the gorgeous, multihued shades of lust rising up inside her, filling her until she glowed to his mind's eye.

He knew now that he had always been able, unwittingly, to sense the impulses and desires of his lovers and thus been able to satisfy them more thoroughly and exhaustively than any other man. But the lifelong connection between himself and the elven mage deepened and enhanced his natural ability until it was hard to say where his thoughts began and Setharia's ended. He knew as well as she did herself every thrillingly sensitive spot on her taut, golden body. He would be able to play it like a perfectly crafted musical instrument, drawing forth a symphony of pleasure.

He yielded to her unspoken but urgent need and dipped his head forward, licking the juice from her clitoris. It tasted like the sweetest nectar imaginable. He dipped his tongue deeper into the hot lush and clinging tunnel of her pussy, then returned his attentions to her clitoris, transferring his attentions between the two at an ever quicker rate.

A ragged exhalation of breath escaped her as Nathaniel’s skillful tongue pressed and teased against her clit. Wider still her legs spread, her knees nearly touching the alter on either side of her perched position. Setharia could do little else than stare at him in the moment, full lips slightly agape and emerald eyes full of wonderment and lust.

Nathaniel. Her Nathaniel.

Her fingers curled as he delved deeper between her legs, his tongue pressing its way inside of her intimate passage. She felt her body grasping at him already. Greedy for more; desiring his continued attentions for all of time.

Setharia whined as her prince returned to the apex of her womanhood. He suckled and licked at her clitoris before lapping his tongue downwards once again – already, his lover was flushed in the cheeks, her nipples hardening ever more by the moment. Her arousal was most prominently apparent between her legs, though, of course: with an abundance of her juices, more accurately described as soaking than merely wet.

Her head fell back as he continued, a blissful and nonsensical utterance emitting from her as her hand slipped away from its hold in Nathaniel's hair. She leaned back several more degrees, propping herself on the balance of her arms.

Nathaniel's tongue worshipped the delicate, moist petals of Setharia's sex, relishing the honey-sweet taste of her in his mouth, the unimaginable intimacy of having her mind totally exposed and vulnerable to him just as her gorgeous body was. Setharia was centuries old, with lifetimes' experiences of magic, battle and lovemaking. But now the respected counsellor of House Tyrelliaire, the legendary Elder Mage, the royal house's mysterious elven patron, lay back on an altar, her legs parted and her delicate, finely formed body quivering with arousal, as helpless a slave to pleasure as any young peasant girl.

Nathaniel had heard that in love the king and the beggar were the same, but when it came to Setharia this wasn't true. Setharia's thrillingly total, unthinking submission to pleasure was all the more erotically powerful because of her usual quiet dignity, the aura of power and confidence that adorned her slender form like a mantle. That such a powerful woman should so quickly and unashamedly lose herself to pleasure was deliciously unexpected. Nathaniel relished the thought of the years to come, when she would stand by his throne as his advisor -the regal, unchangingly beautiful Elder Mage Setharia, settling disputes with wisdom and justice. Little would any of the respectful, worshipful petitioners suspect what went on behind the palace's closed doors -when Setharia would kneel to lovingly take her king's cock in her mouth, when she would allowed herself to be taken like a whore on the floor of the audience, when she would scream like a banshee as Nathaniel fucked her firm, tight ass.

Nathaniel thrust these erotic visions into Setharia's mind, still experimenting with his powers, while at the same time he pushed his tongue even deeper and flicked one two three in spots of exquisitive sensitivity, sending flickers of jagged golden lightning exploding throughout Setharia's body, caressing it, sending her into uncontrollable spasms of pleasure.

The elf’s head fell back as a whimperish moan emitted from her throat, the resulting arch of her back lifting her generous breasts towards the heavens. Setharia’s eyes closed as she felt the influence of Nathaniel’s thoughts upon her own. Without the competition of her own sight, the lewd visualizations were as clear as watching an intertwined couple from an arm’s reach away. The woman had never witnessed herself in such compromising positions; something in the complete lack of shame on her countenance, or the plainly evident enthusiasm employed as she eagerly suckled and licked Nathaniel’s manhood, was…liberating. It was almost as if she was back in their dream: giving her attentions as easily as she would receive his, without the slightest regard of consequence.

There had always been a certain feeling of transparency in the company of the young prince, though the mage had never dared to delve beyond the realm of normal as to why. He was intelligent, inherently understanding of human nature…and had always been wonderfully curious about the world and people around him. He asked precise questions and no doubt never forgot an answer. Now: the suspicion that Nathaniel was unnaturally attuned was undeniable. In that moment the elf understood that there was no reason to repress her desires, that her lover saw only beauty in the terribly undignified things she wanted to suffer. He would take her, in many ways, in all ways… And the woman couldn’t feel more complete at the thought.

Her body jolted and her eyes shot open. It was nearly too much: envisioning Nathaniel fucking her on the floor of the audience, or hearing her own throaty cries and whorish moans as he invaded her ass with his massive cock... She took a sudden gasp of air as she fought the instinct of closing her thighs. Setharia didn’t want him to stop and yet she couldn’t let him continue.

She wanted that which she had been denied. In their dream, she had felt his tongue: and the orgasm had been so real she had awoken with drenched panties. What she needed now was to quell the flames of lust that raged inside of her, to feel the stretch of her womanhood as it strained to accommodate the invasion of her lover’s thick rod. To be claimed by her prince and future king.

Of course, there was no need for her to vocalize her desires to him. The woman shifted her position, sitting upright as a hand fell gently on Nathaniel’s shoulder. She’d insist that he stand, in thought.

I need to feel you inside of me.

Setharia didn’t notice that the temperature of the small cave had significantly increased since their entrance, rather assuming whatever heat she felt was strictly between the pair of lovers.

Setharia was sitting naked on the altar, a glorious sight to behold. Her fair smooth skin shone softly in the darkness of this underground place, seeming to invite long, lingering touches. Her large, perky and supple breasts stood out all the more on her slender frame, each capped by a rigid, rosy nipple -little hard nubs brought to acute attention and sensitivity by the supremely attentive treatment their mistress had just recieved. But best of all was her gorgeous, elfin face in all its delicate beauty, brilliant emerald eyes above exotic high cheekbones, that full rose-lipped mouth now slightly parted as though to silently implore...

Nathaniel didn't need the unspoken invitation of her mouth, of her longing eyes, of her stiff nipples or of the fresh honeydew dripping wantonly between her legs. He could feel her desire, a passionate twin to his own, sense it in his mind. She wanted her prince to fuck her like a shameless harlot in this sacred, forgotten place, on the altar to the highest gods. Already, he had made it echo with her lingering screams and pants of ecstasy -now they would commit a greater and even sweeter profanity.

Or was it? Rising and looking deep into his Setharia's deep green eyes, Nathaniel found it hard to envision what they were doing as anything but the holiest and most sacred of rites. It was a union he had been waiting for all of his life, something he'd dreamed of most nights that he could remember.

With a gentle, courtly motion he put a hand behind Setharia's head and drew her lips to his, drinking deeply of their ripe sweetness. And then he pushed forward, into that irresistible, longed-for place between her legs, filling her with his massive rod, and gasped aloud with pleasure at the tightness, the wetness, the softness, the firmness of his Setharia, the rightness of feeling himself where he belonged at last.

The celestial shade of Nathaniel’s blue eyes had always been a marvel; but now, as they focused intently on her…Setharia witnessed a depth that she had never encountered in another’s gaze. It could’ve been the connection between them. Or something fully realized in her sudden willingness to so unabashedly stare into his eyes. Whichever it was, the recognition was coupled with an instant and intense desire to drown in those wondrous pools.

The elf hadn’t quite adjusted to the occurrence of his thoughts within her mind, oftentimes being unable to identify from whom a feeling or notion had originated. But as the lovers wordlessly watched each other, their bodies and mouths lingering dangerously close, Setharia experienced something that could have only come from him. A glimpse of a lifelong devotion, a surreal certainty in that they belonged together. She found the idea terribly easy to believe, of course; though the elf had been far from devoted to anything – much less anyone – in her youth or young adulthood. While she couldn’t truly relate, then, she found the concept all the more irresistibly romantic and beautiful.

Nathaniel’s capacity for passion and desire was intoxicating. Particularly as it related to her.

It struck Setharia on an emotional level she hadn’t been aware of before. She wanted for nothing in that moment but to truly understand, to have the ability to reciprocate Nathaniel’s affection. He deserved much more than the natural aloofness of her kind, a characteristic the woman had fostered for the better part of her existence.

Any concern as to whether or not she could be what Nathaniel deserved melted away at the touch of his hand. His fingers brushed tenderly along her scalp as he moved to cup the back of her head, his hold gently guiding her lips to his. Setharia’s eyes fluttered shut as a soft and dream-like sigh reverberated from her throat, one of her arms snaking around Nathaniel’s strong shoulders as she fervently returned the kiss. Her alternate hand trailed up his naked chest, over the bend of his collarbone and up his throat, settling onto his jaw line.

The emerald of her eyes reappeared in a flash. Nathaniel was driving his hips forward, the press of his bulbous tip straining against the tightness of her opening; several moments passed before the build of pressure granted him access. Setharia’s fingers curled, a grip developing over the back of her lover’s shoulder. A wincing moan escaped her then, followed by a huff as he continued to press his cock deeper inside of her. Her body clung possessively to every inch of his impressive manhood, his girth stretching her passage beyond its former limits. Were it not for the elf’s shamefully abundant wetness the vice-like grip of her pussy might have posed a challenge.

As it was: her body’s resistance was futile. Nathaniel buried himself to the hilt, causing a sharp and short-lived cry from his lover. The pain was bliss.

“N-nathaniel,” she whimpered. There remained no reason for her to talk and yet she couldn’t quite stop herself from vocalizing her praises. “You’re so deep!” And huge! I’ve never felt so filled in all my life… “Gods, please – don’t stop!”

“Gods, please – don’t stop!”

The quavering, whimpered plea came from deep within Setharia as her impossibly tight, honey-slick elven pussy struggled to accomodate the huge mass thrust deep inside it. Nathaniel kept pushing forward, impaling his cock inside the delectable sheath of Setharia's sex, drawing forth new gasps and moans as he plumbed the most sensitive, secret spots of her body.

The elven mage's entire body was a finely-tuned, sensitive instrument for pleasure aching to be used as he saw fit, from the hard little nubs of the nipples capping her majestic breasts to those lush, full pink lips to that deliciously toned and firm ass, seemingly made for his hands to cup and squeeze and slap.

He bombarded her mind with the lewd images one after another in rapid succession, then all at once -a thousand thousand thoughts of tender love and torrential lust mixed together. Experimenting with his power, he sent tendrils of air to tweak her nipples, to rub and rasp and lick at her clitoris while he slammed down on her so hard that even the ancient stone of the altar groaned underneath them, her whimpers and moans competing with the obscene squelching sounds of their union as again and again he drove himself all the way up to the balls inside her with a will that was not to be denied.

There was nothing in the world but them.

Setharia's mind was flooded with scenes of their love and lust, an uncountable display of sexual encounters that almost seemed to promise an eternity. With each thrust of the man's hips the elven woman found herself regarding him more and more possessively; there was no question as to their future, no political interests or code of ethics that could come between them now.

Even as it made no sense, Setharia knew then that she wouldn't suffer a day without Nathaniel for the remainder of her life. Though she hardly had the ability at present to evaluate the thought - or feeling, or whatever it was one could base completely irrational things upon.

For a moment the woman was overwhelmed. The blur between reality and the torrent of visions was lost and she couldn't tell exactly where it was they were, much less how they had gotten there - or what scope of time their involvement had encompassed. The intensity of their passions did not wane in any frame of circumstance. It was as if they had shared entire lifespans and yet saw each other anew with every dawn.

She felt his attentions upon her breasts. In one reality, he suckled and playfully bit at a nipple; in another, his fingers teased over the delicate nubs of flesh as he lowered his face between her legs. His gloriously talented tongue flicked at her clitoris as his fingers simultaneously pinched at her erect and wanting nipples. Her hips bucked against him.

The visions were more in sync now. Setharia was reasonably certain that the truth of their current encounter was one in which Nathaniel was kissing her deeply, his agile and strong body pistoning his massive cock inside of her soaked passage with an animalistic ambition. Many different pitches of moans and sharp cries seemed to fill the surrounding air, a chorus of the elf singing her pleasures. On that note, she couldn't be certain which noises escaped her in this very moment. One of the more muffled sounding ones, perhaps? Her mouth worked more fervently against his, her grip tigthening against him as she attempted to steady herself in reality.

Setharia wouldn't know it: but their current environment was changing. Not only had the small chiseled cave become warmer, but a faint light had started to creep upwards from the base of the altar and pillars. The golden illuminations pooled in the depths of the etchings, flowing like a slow-motion river in elongated designs while puddling in the rune-like markings.

The woman's attention did not - or could not - stray. Her lips broke away from Nathaniel's just long enough for her cry out with an unintelligible noise, her mouth then returning to his with a tone of emergency. She focused on the force of his thrusts, the slap of his balls against her ass as he hammered into her again and again. Still, she could feel the manipulations of her nipples and clit, the other realities not entirely gone.

She never wanted it to end.

Pinned between the hard stone of the altar and Nathaniel's equally hard and unyielding body, Setharia was impaled, sheathed squirming on the prince's massive shaft. She was unable to do anything but allow wave after wave of irresistible pleasure to wash over her, muffled sounds of her pleasure escaping her lips between kisses, her voice so sexy and throaty with need.

This was the fulfilment of years of dreams and fantasy for the young prince. Her hot, tight wet sex seemed to moulded to his cock, seemed to want to squeeze the seed from it, as electrifyingly responsive to his every move as the rest of her golden tanned, slim body, her sweet voice moaning lustfully. She had lain herself like an offering to the gods of lust on this altar, every inch of her perfect nude body dedicated to his pleasure.

Part of Nathaniel was aware of the transformation that had taken place around them, of the light and heat... but none of it seemed of any consequence compared to the task at hand. He sped up the tempo of his pistoning strikes, pushing himself all the way deep inside her, then withdrawing, then thrusting forward again, letting her feel every inch of him while still projecting an endless stream of lewd images and tickling, caressing shafts.

Her lips tore away from Nathaniel's suddenly. A panting breath escaped her, head falling back acutely; the grip of Setharia's body tightened around him and she cried out his name. “Nathaniel!”

She could feel the energy of his thrusts, forceful waves traveling through the entirety of her body, causing her breasts to bounce with every impalement. Admittedly, though, her attention was more inclined towards the thick shaft that drove between her legs, the increase in the young man's pace as he drove her towards orgasm.

”Gods! Please,” she pleaded in the elven tongue. “Nnnngh!” A whimperish moan was punctuated with huffs each time Nathaniel buried himself fully inside of her wanting sex. ”Please! I want...so badly...” she continued in her native language. ”Fill me with your seed, Nathaniel! I need --” Her words were abruptly interrupted with a shrill cry. ”I'm...oh Gods!”

Her already soaked womanhood flooded; the continued thrusts of her lover's hips caused her juices to gush from her spasming sex, dripping over the altar. "Please!" she begged once again.

Setharia broke the kiss, arching her back, quivering deliciously, her lovely face luminous with ecstasy. Joyously helpless underneath him, she was trembling and writhing on the verge of an epic orgasm.

She cried out now in her own language -the beautiful, clear, rippling words of a tongue that had been spoken since the dawn of time, punctuated by pants, gasps, moans and high shrill cries -the even older language of a woman being taken to the very limits of her body's capacity for pleasure. Nathaniel did not speak the language of the elves, but he did not need to in order to understand Setharia in this moment. The pleading in her eyes, the increasing urgency of her sweetly lustful moans and the tightening of her sopping wet, silky pussy all made her meaning as clear as the summer sun, even if Nathaniel had not been able to read her mind.

And he could never have denied Setharia her desires. He increased the tempo and depth of his thrusts, plunging into the elven mage's silken depths with each new thrust, driven near-mad with lust and enjoyment. He had proof a hundredfold that every one of the stories of elven bedmates was true -but Nathaniel did not doubt that Setharia towered high above all other elven women in her supple, lithe flexibility, in her stamina and talent for pleasure, in her keen and shameless appetite, above all in her wanton abandonment to lust. Even the legendary elven courtesans with their centuries of instruction in the erotic arts could do nothing to rival the gorgeous, writhing beauty that lay underneath Nathaniel.

As he fucked her, the juices of her sex squirted and gushed, drenching the altar and driving Nathaniel to even greater endeavours, ravishing her as fully and thoroughly as a woman could be. And at the height of their ecstasy, he came with a shout, releasing blast after blast of hot seed into her body, feeling her sex contract in triumph around him. There was so much that some of it dribbled out on to the glowing altar, merging with Setharia's own juices. The world went white.

Reveling in the sound of his pleasure, Setharia found greater satisfaction only in the feel of Nathaniel's hot seed as it shot in torrents inside of her. Her body eagerly milked him, gripping and pulling even as he buried himself deeply inside of her. She cried out and shuttered: for a moment she thought she might pass out. A flash of white took over her sight, something she immediately attributed to some sort of sensory overload… Little did she know that the burst of energy had come from them – much less that it would be powerful enough to draw attention of others.

Somewhere in the afterglow Setharia became suddenly aware of the magical signatures that surrounded them. For a moment she managed to push back whatever concern rose within her in response, instead focusing her attention on the man still buried between her legs. She caressed his face tenderly, staring into his bright and heavenly orbs, a smile coming to her lips as she took the liberty of another kiss. The upturn of her lips remained as she withdrew from him, even as their environment was drawing her mind towards uncertainty.

A glance away from her lover would make her aware of the luminescence of the pillars. The elf's emerald eyes focused on the vertically running runes, as if to read them: though she understood less than half of the ancient marks. Setharia was well educated, particularly in the script of magical symbols, and so she found this discovery with an equal part of intrigue and disappointment. Intrigued as to what she might be able to learn, disappointed in her present ignorance.

...But there was something else, too. Something the elf couldn't identify. Her sight scanned the area, her torso twisting at the waist to allow her to look around and behind her position on the altar, the woman nearly expecting to find someone watching them.

And while her instinct was completely correct: she failed to see it. Scrying wasn't something most people would detect, though: much less see.

Two women stood near to the back of the chamber. They were ethereal in appearance: translucent and without color. Both wore crowns, of very different designs; one encompassed in flowing robes while the other was adorned by an elaborate and formal dress. Their gazes would be obviously focused on the sight upon the altar, both silent for several long moments. When they did speak, it was in elven tongue, and only to each other. They had less than no reason to suspect that the subjects of their study would be aware of their projected presences.

Setharia's scanning of the room hadn't revealed them to her. And so she returned her attention to Nathaniel, on taking his mouth with hers once again. She purred against the contact. She was entirely oblivious of what the shift in their environment meant – she felt unthreatened, and so...it hardly mattered, did it? All that she wanted, all that she could care to think about...was Nathaniel.

“Stay with me?” she asked several moments later, after breaking their kiss. Of course, their previous arrangement would have him lodging with her, already, with their pretended relationship as a cover for Setharia to teach the young prince magic in secret. But the elf felt compelled to offer her home, her bed, with a new understanding of what that meant.

Setharia's face looked even more beautiful in the blissful aftermath of orgasm. There was a sated, slumberous look in her heavy-lidded eyes as she laid back, her lips swollen with hot furious kisses. She looked about, noting the illuminated pillars with interest but without concern. She'd been far too thoroughly satisfied for anything very much to register as a cause of concern.

Nathaniel opened his mouth to ask about the significance of the runes but he was cut off when Setharia reached up and kissed him deeply. She purred deep in her throat as he kissed her back, letting his tongue explore her mouth and dance with hers, holding her face between his hands so tenderly, like a treasure of great value. The runes no longer mattered, not compared to what had happened between them.

They had consummated their love here, in this sacred place, on the same day that Nathaniel took his first steps on the path of magic. From now on, they'd be together until the day Nathaniel died -and he'd make that unceasing river of erotic images that he'd projected into Setharia's mind a living reality.

"Stay with me?" she asked. Her voice was still husky and breathless from their lovemaking.

Nathaniel closed his eyes reverently, as though the sight of so much beauty might overwhelm him.

"Yes," he said quietly. He found the fingers of Setharia's right hand and began softly, lovingly kissing them one by one. "Yes... yes... yes... my love."

It was impossible to not to feel some elation at Nathaniel's response. While there hadn't been any fear of his rejection, to hear him agree to her offer – not only once, but with a multitude of yeses – spoke to a part of Setharia that she had repressed since her banishment from the Faewood.

Love wasn't...or hadn't been...something in which the elf indulged or sought. She'd taken lovers, of course, but. She purposefully remained at an emotional distance from those that shared her bed. Her duty to House Tyrelliaire meant she'd always have a conflict of interest with her own kind. And...humans? Nathaniel was the first – and would be the only, she was so easily convinced – human to find his place between her legs. She had feared the claims of interracial passions, the particular way that a human was capable bringing out maddening new heights for an elven lover. More so, of course: she feared that she might discover a new capacity of emotion, which would end ever so tragically and abruptly given the human life span.

...It was too late to worry about that now, though, wasn't it?

There was nothing more to do than smile in response to his words. When he finished kissing the fingers of her right hand, Setharia took his mouth greedily with her own.

They'd remain in the underground shrine for several more hours, further exploring and enjoying the feel of each other's body. Thankfully, their ethereal spectators did not stay for the remainder of the show. They'd witnessed just as much as they needed to.


Three days later.

The eldest son of House Tyrelliaire and his elven escort arrived in Daegarr the night before. Shortly after dusk, just as the light of fire sprang to life by torch and pit and candle all about the small but prosperous city. As the two rode through the cobbled streets, towards the keep and impossibly tall gates that bordered the Faewood, their presence drew an obvious amount of attention from those in the streets. They remained unmolested, however, and Setharia paid less than no mind to the stares or whispers from the distance. The collection of people would be marveling at the prince, she knew – and nothing more.

News of his involvement with the Elder of his father's council wouldn't be the topic until at least the following day.

Which it was, at present. And: most assuredly, upon the lips of many was the information that the young prince hadn't been prepared chambers of his own. No, he had shared lodgings with Setharia, without even the slightest attempt from either to make it appear otherwise.

“Though, even had they tried to be...more subtle,” spoke a maid, sharing with a friend whose employment was elsewhere, within one of noble households within the city. “...I do believe the noise throughout the night would have given them away.” The woman wouldn't go so far as the give the lewd details: that Setharia moaned and screamed so loudly that the entire wing was filled with her cries of pleasure. She shouldn't be encouraging gossip about her employer in such a way, to begin with... Unfortunately, it was impossible to not spread this particular gem. It was simply too much to keep to herself.

And she wasn't the only one to feel that way. Rumors spread like wildfire.


Setharia had woken early, dressed in a casual set of finely produced linen, and taken leave of her chambers. She'd have business to attend to, she knew.

The desk within her study contained only a small pile of papers and scrolls. Grateful that her steward had managed to spare her a daunting return, she seated herself with a smile upon her lips. The top scroll was fetched, the seal unstudied as she cracked the wax. The parchment was unrolled, emerald eyes reading the message within. The curve of her lips quickly descended.

She lowered the letter into her lap. Stared off at nothing for several moments.

Why now? Surely, word couldn't have reached the Faewood already. Or, it could have, but... The scroll. How long ago had it been delivered? By what means had it come?

Setharia rolled up the message and tossed it into a drawer before rising to her feet. She'd wake the steward to gain the answers she sought. Which: once known, only made the situation all the more perplexing.


She'd meet Nathaniel to break their fast several hours later. Whilst they ate, Setharia kept their conversation light. It might have been – in fact the woman could be quite certain that it was – obvious to her companion that something was bothering her. She said nothing of the subject, mostly for the concern of being overheard. She would not appear or sound as unsettled as she felt in front of the help.

“We'll tour the city this afternoon,” she spoke as easily as she always had. “And I've arranged for you to meet the sell sword, Beriadan Megildur, early this evening.” An elf, of course, as was apparent by the name. “Until then...” she smiled wickedly, reaching towards him, fingertips dragging lightly over the back of his hand. Her expression said it all, of course, particularly to those that weren't directly involved in the conversation.

We desperately need to work on your abilities this morning, she attempted to openly project the thought, entirely uncertain how much he heard or knew otherwise. We may have much less time than expected to...prepare.

It was almost enough reason to go all-or-nothing. Make no attempt to hide that she was teaching him magic, not bother with the public appearances that would attest to the normal of the prince's daily life. Perhaps they needn't distract with the easily seen (or heard) displays of affection, even. Though no doubt they would anyway. The ploy behind that particular behavior was replaced with a sincere desire, after all; and in the case of keeping their study sessions private, there really was little better than having servants beyond hesitant to intrude upon them through closed doors.

It was too much to abandon the charade. She couldn't openly attempt to foster magical abilities in a human – what kind of panic had gripped her that she'd think that reasonable, even for a moment?

Psionics. It just had to be psionics, on top of everything, didn't it?

Setharia took a deep breath, making an effort to calm herself. It left her in the form of a wistful sigh as her touch retreated from Nathaniel's hand. “...I think I'll show you my library,” she spoke, as if continuing her earlier words. “We won't be disturbed there,” she promised. “As I've been known to be...less than friendly...to those that interrupt my studying.” The elf added a suggestive smirk for the benefit of any witnesses.

I received a formal announcement from the Throne of Alyameldir yesterday afternoon, by raven. My former queen desires to visit Daegarr, along with a small entourage of her advisers. ...She couldn't possibly know...

The elf pretended to take an interest in her food.

It makes no sense that this would come out of the blue. They must know that you're here, perhaps some little birdie from capital whispering in their ear... She took a bite. Whatever the case may be. They're expected to arrive in five days time. So. We had better learn what we can in the meantime. Hopefully we can avoid a complete catastrophe...

The last few days had literally been a dream come true for Nathaniel. Each new night had brought Setharia to greater and greater heights of rapturous lust. She was a true woman of the Fey, with a wild pagan joy in the mysteries of the bedchamber that went beyond that of any mortal. Each night she brought him further and further into the domain of sheer pleasure, into that living river of erotic dreams and fantasies in which they drowned themselves.

They had celebrated their arrival the evening before in a night-long burst of erotic fervor, not contented to sleep until both their toned, athletic bodies had been thoroughly and satisfyingly exhausted.


Since being made aware of the true nature of his gifts, Nathaniel had tried to respect the privacy of others but he had not yet learned how to completely block out the thoughts of those around him. He had picked up a few stray thoughts from Setharia's servants as they went about their duties in the morning.

They were intensely curious about their mistress' new attachment, and archly amused by the volume of her moans and cries the previous night (some, particularly the younger maidservants, were most intrigued by this and cast coy, speculative glances at Nathaniel when they thought themselves unobserved). Many were very surprised at the wanton passion to which their reserved, dignified mistress had yielded.

But none were disapproving. They loved Setharia, that was one warm, golden constant pulsing in all their thoughts. She had been kind to them, not just in the way of a pleasant human mistress, but had taken time and effort over the years into helping them with problems great and small, into learning about their lives and coming to know them. Many of the household were of the third or fourth generation to serve the ageless, beautiful Elder Mage and all felt a fierce family loyalty to her. They were pleased that she had at last taken a lover, that the loneliness and isolation of her calling was at least for a season at an end.

"We'll tour the city this afternoon," Setharia said over breakfas “And I've arranged for you to meet the sell sword, Beriadan Megildur, early this evening. Until then... "

Nathaniel returned her provocative smile. The ruse they had intended to use for study sessions had quickly become all too real -so many sessions on magic on the road had ended instead with his lovely teacher sucking his cock or bent over a tree-stump being fucked from behind.

But his smile faded as he recieved Setharia's thoughts. The Queen...? Setharia had never spoken of her again, after the first time they talked of the elven monarch, but she had returned to Nathaniel's thoughts time and again. He was as determined to learn magic as he had been determined to have Setharia -both were simply elemental desires that could not be reasoned or reckoned with. But now his own hungers might endanger the woman he loved above all else. If the Queen had learned of Setharia's secret lessons, as the Elder Mage seemed to suspect, what might her punishment be?

Nathaniel's cerulean eyes turned stormy and grim. Queen or no queen, he would not allow her to hurt his Setharia. His hands knotted into fists, he followed his lover into the library.