The Fall of Marigill (closed for Poprockz)

Orson watched as his dog ran happily and played, Dremara’s words were something he didn’t quite understand. He frowned a little and looked out over the landscape and took a deep breath. “And what if I want more than that, Dremara?” He finally asked after a moment of silence.

He stepped forward, taking Dremara’s hands to try and find the woman behind her eyes. The one that accepted her birth and her circumstances and all the other nonsense duty had beaten into her head. “What if I want us to be happy partners? What, then?” She likely thought him mad. And he couldn’t blame her.

“I cannot speak into existence these desires.” He wasn’t so blind to the heart of a woman to know that. “I can only do as a good husband would; and hope, in time, you’ll see my words are genuine. And far from hollow."
 
Her eyes were confused, as she too didn't understand. Dremara's breath came out in misty puffs as she spoke. "You already have everything anyone could ask for- what more do you want? I am your wife- you already have me. We are bound to one another until death. You speak of happiness, but I do not know what it is you seek. I do not think I will be unhappy in this marriage. After all, I do consider you to be a good man who will be a very good partner and father. I imagine we will both make the most of this union, as it is... all we have."

"Had fate been different, it could have been Brannock, or even Cillian who had been the Chieftain to marry me- or if my father had sired more daughters, it could have been another daughter to marry you. Regardless of which two people fate decided to bring together, it does not change the situation we find ourselves in. Any marriage can be a happy one as long as the husband and wife do not mistreat one another." The dog barked at their feet, looking up at her with its hindquarters raised and its ball in-between its front paws. He seemed to be daring her to try to take the ball again. She raised her eyebrow and smiled, the dog barking and backing up a bit. When she didn't take it, the dog barked and backed up enough for her to quickly grab the ball and throw it for him before turning back to her husband.
 
Orson’s expression was that of a primate trying to solve arithmetic. How was he not clearly expressing his wants? What had he left unsaid? What, in her words, could clue him in to how she saw the situation? “My father and mother had no lovers.” Perhaps that was the best way to put it. She might have lived in a palace far away from her parents' bedchambers, but RimeHaven wasn’t nearly so large.

“While I do not doubt your heart and intention to love our children; I also intend to give them the ideals instilled in me. If we have a daughter? She will not be married off for political gains. She will be Kota; my sons will be Kota. I intend to raise them to take my place should I fall in battle with…” Beast storms? Yorcs? The orcs of Agrek, should they sail the seas, The Andels, were they to return, Hortensia if they wanted revenge, Demons of the World Below? “Whatever holds the sword that strikes me down. Old age, for all I know.”

“Love, Dremara.” Orson clarified for her. “No man has all he could want without it. As I've said, I cannot speak it into existence. I can only show you, with every action I take, that all I've done is to build my wife and my people a safe home. A place to keep warm in the winter.”

He brought his hand up to the nape of her neck, ignoring the dog. “I only ask for the opportunity to try.” And he kissed her lips.
 
She stood still as his mouth pressed against her own, not having had enough time to process what he had said. In the cold of the evening air, his lips were warm and gentle as they always were.

Was he trying to say that he wanted romantic love from her? She had to admit that she was a bit taken aback by such an insinuation. To her, there was a distinct difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. She loved Nettie, and the handmaid was precious to her, but she couldn't see the two of them ever being romantically involved.

That being said, she felt a bit bad that Orson had to give up on his own lover due to their marriage. Having romantic love seemed important to him, even if such a thing seemed unnecesary to Dremara. Should she pretend to love him in that way to humor him? No... Orson wasn't so foolish as to be tricked by pretty words or fake smiles, and she doubted she could keep up a convincing performance anyway. He would also likely find it insulting. Regardless of whether she tried such a thing for his sake or not, it wasn't an honest or respectful thing to do.

The Queen pulled her lips from him for a moment and sighed, "I... don't know that I can love you in that way, Orson. I intend to stay by your side and do all things a wife must, but if the years go by and you find yourself in need of such a thing, you have my blessing to look elsewhere as long as you keep me appraised."
 
Orson couldn’t count the number of times he’d been cut or nicked or bruised in battle. He’d limped home more times than he could count. Kauvric’s warhammer mangled his arm, and it was only through Dremara’s own gifts that he was able to hold her hands now.

I don’t know that I can love you? That? Those words? From his wife? That was a wound he couldn’t hide. He released Dremara’s hands and backed a step away to respect her space. “I see.” He stood in silence a moment, looking out over the city and to the WhiteCaps beyond, South to the Cryspear mountains with their Amberheart crystals.. And out to the ocean.

Anywhere but meeting Dremara’s eyes in that moment. A man had to keep some dignity. Especially a Chieftain that wished to be seen as a King.

“I should-” Go where? Do what? “I intend to walk to the walls, check on their progress. See if the men have need of more stone.”

He wasn’t interested in more words. He’d said what he needed to say. He bowed his head. “My Queen.” Before he turned to descend the steps.
 
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, watching him leave. It would be cruel to lead him on, crueler than saying her honest words that she knew may have hurt him.

He would be alright in time, this she knew. Just as she had been when she had first realized that she would not live a life of freedom and frivolity. When one was a King or a Queen, they lived for their country, not for themselves. It was a happy coincidence if they led charmed lives, but ultimately what made a good ruler was the ability to separate such things.

Besides, he did not love her yet. His heart didn't ache when she was gone, nor did it flutter at the thought of her. When he burned, he burned with lust, and he treasured her as the key to his kingdom's salvation, not for who she was as a person.

She sighed. Suddenly she herself felt lonesome as she looked up at the stars. The glass of mead in her hand had been all but forgotten, but now she felt a bit thirst. The goblet was lifted to her lips and she gulped down all of the amber liquid, letting out a breath as she finished and setting it down on a table. Perhaps it was time to go to bed.
 
“What’s that look?” Roric had spotted Orson coming back into the palace. He looked his Chieftain up and down. He didn’t look wounded. But there was something there. He couldn’t place it.

“Tired and cold.” Orson put a hand to Roric’s shoulder. “How are Esmerelda and Dionna?”

“Well enough. I think both, actually, are to remarry come the Frostclaw. Though I don’t think they’ve the heart to tell me.” Roric answered of the wives of his deceased sons. Though he looked up to Orson’s understanding silence. “It’s for the best; I'll not be able to provide for them forever.”

Orson solemnly nodded his head. “And when they do? What will you do?”

“I’m not so long in the tooth.” Roric smirked at Orson. “You’ll not be rid of me just yet.”

Orson gave a chuckle. “Indeed, I should hope not.”

As Roric left to go home? He stepped inside the palace after scraping his boots of snow and stood near one of the large hearths of the great hall. It was one of the many nights he’d be caught looking up to the swords suspended by chains; of those fallen. Or he’d be gazing at his throne, and the weight of his people rested upon his broad shoulders.

Too much sleep had he lost doing just this. And.. he found himself unsure of where to go. Did he go to his chambers? Did he.. Not? He swallowed down the lump in his throat. This kind of indecisive weakness was unbecoming. It was infuriating! His nostrils flared; battle was easier than deciphering a heart and untangling the knots in it.
 
"A very manly thing of you to do- brooding while looking up at the swords of your forefathers..." Y'Sennia's amused voice could be heard as she seemingly appeared out of thin air and behind him and walked up until they were shoulder to shoulder. In addition to her normal scent and perfume, one could smell the slight touch of dirt upon her. She was wearing a long red dress that looked far too cold for the night, yet she looked as though the chill didn't bother her in the slightest.

"You look troubled. Are you worried about the Goddess's wrath?" She asked, her eyes scanning him for any hint to what might be affecting him.
 
Orson, for all he was troubled, was doing his best to be unbothered by it all. “I could spend the rest of the night listing all the reasons I should be troubled.” He smirked at that, then looked down to Y’Sennia. The note was right; they wouldn’t speak of it again. There was no need to. Perhaps, somewhere, his ancestors would have been honored to fight for RimeHaven again.

“With the lake waters cleansed, the beasts that emerged from it are no more?”

They were. Good.

“The Frostclaw Vigil is upon us. I am to hear the Star Oaths of my people and kneel before them in the sacred prayer.” Them. The swords; the stars. His ancestors. “It’s my hope that my vision for my people isn’t unlike theirs would have been; had they the opportunity I was presented with.”

Senni could probably tell him, factually, from her memories. But that wasn’t what he meant. In the eyes of Ursui.. Was he doing the right thing? He thought, genuinely, he’d been trying to. He rolled his tongue in his cheek before he looked back to Y’Sennia.

“Come. Walk with me to your chambers.”
 
She had nodded in affirmation to his inquiry about the beasts. The beasts themselves were actually still alive, though the rot that fouled them had been purged. Bears, wolves, elk, all manner of animals had found themselves dazed as they awoke from a nightmare in which they craved only vengeance and violence. Surely the gods were pleased. The gods he followed, anyway. Xarxibol cared not as long as they were provided with the blood of mortals.

“Hm." She offered no insight as to whether his ancestors would endorse his choices. The fact was that they were not faced with such choices, and different ancestors would have had different reactions based on her estimations. Raglin the Boar would have let his pride destroy them, while Filenor of the Swift Waters would hav been too complacent and the other countries would have walked all over them. In her estimations, Orson was one of the best leaders she had seen, perhaps even the best. One had to have a stout heart, wisdom, and a keen eye for the future in order to lead well.

"Let us walk then." The two of them started off in the direction of her room, and all the while she did not press him. It seemed he either had something on his mind that he preferred to talk about in private, or he desired the warmth of a woman. Either way, there was no need for words beforehand if he didn't feel up to it.
 
Once they’d gotten to Senni’s chambers, Orson reached up to unclasp his furs. Laying them over the large chair, he looked down into the fire for a moment and tried to consider how to take on such a subject. Ursui’s teachings were quite clear; and it had done his people well for their entire history. Now? He walked a very strange path in his life. One his fathers before him hadn’t. And it made for strange bedfellows, it seemed.

“I’ve been to the world below.” He looked up from the fire, approaching Y’Sennia once again and reached for the long, dark hair and brushed some of it over her ear. “I need some manner of reassurance about..” He didn’t say her name, he knew enough to know it was bad to do so. Secrecy was everything.

“I’ve seen, with my own eyes, the kind of evil that resides there. It’s my intention, before I die, to have my Queen seal the breach in the bottom of that chasm. I know not when the opportunity will be afforded to me; with all we face with Naymeera, and the sightings of Yorc tracks in the Northeast from the Golls, and..” Every damned thing else he had on his plate.

“...what makes your shadow different?”
 
Y'Sennia regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before posing a question. "In a den of evil, how do suppose that demons spend their time?"

She gave him a little time to consider this before continuing. "Another question for you: how do you think succubi are made? I imagine you are not familiar with such things, honorable sort that you are, so I will explain."

The Enchantress sat down in one of the armchairs of her room, taking out her flask and filling a nearby wine goblet with the thick, dark-red liquid. She took a sip from it and continued. "There is a god named Kaahl. This is a god that stands for depravities of the flesh. Cultists of this god would be asked every new moon to sacrifice a beautiful woman to him, as long as the sky was darkened by clouds. They did not want the stars nor the moon to witness such rites, lest Ursui or other gods attempt to intervene."

"Once sacrificed, the woman's soul would be chained and brought to Kaahl for the next stage of their existence. The god would rape them mercilessly, day and night without rest, letting their hatred for the cultists fester as they eventually forgot who they were in their mortal lives. When all memories but their final moments are gone, that is when they become succubi." She swirled the blood in her glass, seemingly lost in thought until she looked up at Orson.

"I did not summon her. As I told you, she was fleeing from the breach when we crossed paths. Why was she fleeing? I asked her that too, of course. She told me that she had lived as a succubus in the underground for many, many years, never venturing onto our plane since her rebirth. For many years she enjoyed herself, reveling in sexual pleasures and currying favors from other devils. However, she caught the eye of a very powerful and cruel devil who didn't merely want to enjoy her, he wanted to own her."
 
Orson listened to Zandy’s plight and creation; and he did his level best to understand that kind of evil. If these cultists knew what they were sentencing the girl to; why do it? How could that exist in the hearts of men? Even fucking Golls, for all their stubborn ways, weren’t so cruel. Nor did he feel he was.

Until he thought of his wife. Was he being cruel to her? He’d taken every measure not to be. Every step a man in his position possibly could, and yet.. He could not be loved so.

Senni’s words, then, drew him back up, when she said that Zandy had fled the World Below, and that’s when they’d crossed paths. Leave it to Senni to turn a Succubus into someone he wanted to help. He rolled his tongue in his cheek… It would’ve been easier to kill Zandy and she could never be owned, but… He didn’t know what to do about it.

“Very well.” Secrecy was their best defense, it seemed.

Orson looked over to the bed, trying to decide on where he should sleep tonight. And, at that moment? The Chieftain? The bravest of the Kota? Who had faced down Kauvric? He didn’t want to face his wife. Look her in the eye again and see that… pity.

He even sneered a bit at the thought. He approached Senni’s chair where she sat, offering her his hand. “Is the King expected to ready himself for bed?” He cocked an eyebrow playfully.
 
She was glad for his accepting reaction. It was understandable that a man like him would struggle with the thought that there were people out there with cruelty in their hearts that defied expectations. Perhaps it wasn't cruelty... Maybe it was simply callousness and greed. She herself had been the victim and perpetrator of cruelties in her lifetime, her story not entirely dissimilar to the succubus though with a few key differences. That wasn't a story she had shared with anyone who currently lived though, and she feared that if her sins were laid bare before Orson that he would turn away from her even if he knew her character in this age.

"I am ever your most humble of servants," she smirked back, taking his hand and standing. Her hands went to his shirt, pulling it up and off to be discarded. The woman then reached down and undid his belt, keeping herself straight-backed as she looked playfully into his eyes. "Have you decided what will mark you as King yet? Perhaps you can war a cloak made of the rarest fur, or take an empowered gem into the hilt of your weapon?"
 
Orson gave her question some thought; now that she posed it once more. This time not in the form of a crown. Though he just.. Felt no need for finery like that. Excess. Not when his city didn’t have walls. Not when the Kota struggled to make sure everyone was fed through the harsh winters. “I’d not take on the traditions of men I've defeated. They will show me respect of their own volition; or they can follow in the footsteps of the Hortensian King, and respect me at the table negotiating their surrender.”

As his belt came undone, he reached down to catch his sword and took the belt. Laying it on the table next to him, he brought his hands to Senni’s hips so she could continue. What a fool he’d been; to think he was capable of sending her away. And.. had his conversation with Dremara gone differently? He would have. But it was obvious.. He does not have what his father had. He has, likely.. What Dremara’s father had.

He leaned down, whispering into Senni’s ear. Remembering what she spoke about not walking the next day. “How is your ass?” He whispered, low and seductive, his lips finding that little spot just under the delicate lobe.
 
There was a sharp intake of breath at the touch of his lips, and she closed her eyes to better relish the feeling. "I do a very good job of making it look like I can walk without issue, don't I?" She replied with a chuckle. "In truth, I still ache from having one of Ursui's thickest totems being shoved inside."

She bit her lip, knowing that the man before her desired her wholeheartedly. Never would he turn from her, and when he breathed his last mortal breath, he would be hers. She just had to bide her time.... When it came to Orson, her patience knew no bounds. Even if he lived to be 100, she would be there to whisk him away when it was time.

Over a glass of blood, she had mused to herself about killing the girl and making it look like an accident. Perhaps having her fall down a cliff and breaking her neck... Perhaps drowning in the freezing waters. They needed Dremara though, and she didn't want to risk Orson's wrath if he found out that it was her own doing. Besides, she didn't dislike the Queen, merely that the construct of "marriage" prevented herself and Orson from being together openly.

Y'Sennia's shadow emerged and started to undo the ribbons in the back of her dress, having been prompted by a small movement of one of the vampress's fingers. It eluded Y'Sennia how she could feel such a thing for a man after her mortal life had ended, but over the years they had shifted from a simple carnal frenzy to something more dangerous.

"How are your balls? Do you even have any seed left for me after these past two days?" She raised her eyebrow playfully.
 
Orson chuckled as Senni admitted she ached. His hands ran up her sides as her shadow emerged to undo her dress. There was a bit of pride in that; he couldn’t lie. But it didn’t hurt to be playful. “Shoved?” He feigned insult. “I had thought you were rather well prepared. What with the beads and all…” But that was neither here nor there.

How are your balls? Orson’s eyebrow cocked, standing to his full height over her, as though insulted. “You dare, woman?” He smiled, pulling down at the dress as Zandy finished with it to allow her tits to pop out. He reached up to take two handfuls of them. To squeeze and knead the flesh.

His cock stirred beneath his kilt at the sight of them. Yes, his balls, she was likely to find, were quite well off. They’d been hard at work replenishing his supply. He brought his lips down to Senni’s to claim her kiss.
 
Oh she dared.

She dared to kiss him back, playfully sucking on his bottom lip before pulling it gently with her teeth and letting it go. Only to press her lips back up against him and let their tongues intermingle. That taste... it made her lips tingle. It was Dremara's taste, she recognized. Oh, what a naughty man, kissing his wife before fucking his devoted vampiric lover. It only made her more aroused, the thought of Dremara sleeping in her bed without him while Y'Sennia was curled up next to him.

Panting, she pulled back from him and licked her lips. "I am rather bold, aren't I? Perhaps I need to be tied down and disciplined." She pursed her lips playfully before turning as though she was going to walk away from him, though in truth she had no intentions of leaving that room until she had drank her fill. Of cum, that is.
 
Orson cocked an eyebrow, remembering when he’d arrived back from Hortensia. She hadn’t been in need of a reminder; she’d wanted a reunion. And it was quite the reunion. Now? Now she needed a reminder. Catching her by the wrist, he pulled it to the small of her back and turned to sit on the chaise lounge, a hand on her hips to pull her off her feet so that she was sprawled out, face down, with her ass nestled on his leg.

Pinning her wrist to his back with his hand, he reached his free hand down for her skirts and hiked them up until her perfect white ass was revealed to him. And the lacy black thong. “Perhaps.” He said calmly, his hand running up and over her thigh and cupped her ass cheek. His fingers delved down, touching the creamy skin on the inside of her thigh and allowing her to feel just the presence of his fingers near her pussy without touching it.

He brought his hand up, briefly in a pause. He allowed a beat to pass. The crackling of the fire, the sound she could likely hear of his heartbeat; his stiffening cock beneath her legs. And then the smack rang out throughout the room. He did extend the courtesy to start rubbing the worst of the sting out. His movements were slow and methodical; no need to rush a good spanking, after all.

“I don’t know why you make me do this to you.” His hand on her wrist upon her back kept her pinned, but he could use it if she’d be good and stay. His hand rolled over her thigh and the back of her opposite knee and he laced his fingers through the strap of the thong on her hip. Just to touch all of the skin that was on offer. Well, she hadn’t offered it; he was taking it. It was his to take. He was Kota; she was his woman. He was King.

The next slap on her opposite cheek came with less warning, and he continued his worship of her ass, his cock continued to swell as her backside reddened.
 
She had waited in anticipation, holding her breath as she waited for his hand to finally fall. When it finally did she yelped at the sting, though she made no movement to resist him. How could she when this was precisely what she wanted? Such control and domination... She craved it from his hand, from his body, from that cock that was twitching to life. It was cathartic for reasons that she didn't completely understand herself.

"Perhaps I am simply a deviant at heart," she replied in a sultry tone, "but can you deny that you enjoy it as well? Can you tell me that you don't enjoy the sound it makes when your hand smarts my ass? Does the blooming red not delight you? Does it not make you feel powerful and in-control?" She shifted her hips back and forth so that her ass jiggled slightly from her movements, as though she was trying to entice him to continue.
 
Orson’s cock hardened in acknowledgment of the wiggle of Senni’s heart shaped ass as it jiggled and craved his hand. How she so desired the dominance of the man who tamed her. So be it. His hand rang out again, this time a bit upward to direct the sting and he tarried a moment, rubbing and gently squeezing and cupping. Each time, his fingers a little closer to the wetness he could sense.

To the right side now; and the blushing backside of the Night Enchantress of the White Peaks enticed him. Another pause for anticipation as he spoke. “I do enjoy it. A woman so powerful as you.” Slap. “Your pain and pleasure at my whim.” He thrust his hips upward just a bit, reminding her of what stirred as he massaged.

And this time, when he massaged, he allowed his thumb to roll along the wet, hot mound between her thighs. Ever so briefly, before he pulled up to take out his frustrations of her bold defiance on her left cheek again. “Though.. I wonder if any could take as much pleasure from it as you.”
 
Each time he spanked, he would receive an enthusiastic noise, her body flinching as the pain melted into warmth and tenderness. There was no doubt that his words were true, not when she could feel that massive bulge against her belly. Though she had to admit that the tease of his thumb almost made her want to wrest herself from his grip if only to climb onto his lap so she could accept him between her legs.

"I very much like excelling at whatever I do, so I can't help but take as much pleasure as I can get from it," she purred. "It is my gluttonous desire for pleasure that makes me an ideal master for my shadow. She drinks from it, and it sustains her. It was either that or have her feast upon the mortals of this world, but I knew you wouldn't like that. This way... she feeds, and no men or women of the Kota have their life-force consumed." Y'Sennia chuckled and added, "don't worry though- if ever you want to invite her to our bed, she will not harm you. Succubi are only able to lose control of themselves if they're starving."
 
Orson cocked an eyebrow at Senni’s words. That.. was an interesting proposition. His hand ran over her ass once more, striking lightly and more rapidly a few times on each. Then he received an invite to invite Zandy to bed? What sane man wouldn’t? With his blood running so hot, his head tilted as he considered it, eyes watching the way her ass squirmed when not receiving his touch. When she didn’t know exactly where his hand was. “An interesting thought.” His hand came down again, this time touching her pussy less shyly as he massaged, but made sure to keep her pinned down.

Releasing her wrist, Orson gathered Senni into his arms and walked her to the bed. Standing her on her feet at the foot of it, he brought his hands up to her jaw to bring her for his kiss. Oh, how she was a ravenous and hungry creature. Truly a glutton; one who had found a man as virile and strong as a Kota chieftain.

Keeping one hand on her throat, he took her hand away from him and brought it up to the bedpost. Using the silk rope that typically tied back the curtain, he looked down at her. She had said to tie her up and allow her to receive her due punishment, after all. Making sure the wrist was secured, he took her other hand and tied it to the next bedpost. So she could stand at the foot of the bed, facing outward towards the fireplace, and see the room.

His hands moved to her dress, pushing it down to pool at her feet. But he left the little panties on; he rather liked them. Another kiss, this time a little more passionate as he pressed his kilt covered waist into her stomach; his cock thick and hard and protesting being covered.

Eventually, he brought his hand down to slide into those panties. His fingers found the wetness immediately; tracing circles around the entrance and her clit before he delved two fingers inside her. His free hand coming up to her throat to guide her gaze up at him.

“Does she watch?” He whispered to Senni. “Does she want to play, too?”
 
Of course Y'Sennia could tear through those silk ties like paper if she extended her claws, and that was if she didn't use her own strength to do so. As a vampress, she possessed a strength that would overpower most men, though Orson was an exception to this as he was an exception to so many other things. That wasn't the point of this though; the point was that each restraint was a representation of his will, a demand for her to relinquish her power to him.

She looked at him with rapt lust as her head was manipulated. Oh how she wished he would finger-fuck her good, shoving his large fingers inside her to stir her up. It wasn't something she could make him do though, and that was exciting. Was he to keep her on the edge? Toy with her? Or did he have something else up his sleeve? He could do whatever he wanted with the pussy that practically dripped with want.

"Why don't you ask her yourself? I give you my permission to command her as you see fit tonight." Y'Sennia licked her lips hungrily.

At that moment, the shadow cast by the flickering flames of the hearth morphed until it took a human shape. Again she took the shape of Y'Sennia and smiled at him. Though her lips didn't move, he would hear her voice in his mind.

"I watch, yes, And yes... I also like to play." Her giggle echoed in his head as her form changed, now to a beautiful woman with a long braid, one that was shorter than Y'Sennia with smaller hips and breasts. "I can take any form you like... Anything that you desire to see, though I cannot come out of the shadow." As her form changed again, it was obvious what she meant: whatever he chose she could do, save for the colors. All her forms were the same slick, inky black. Now she was a short woman with a smaller frame, save for the large ass she sported, her hair done up in two buns. There were no horns nor wings, so this was merely a form she had chosen rather than her true form.
 
Orson’s fingers were greeted by the grip of wet velvet. And he continued his motion, curled at the knuckles and pulling up and then down, then up and forward and back. His thumb moving over her clit. Normally, he wanted to make her cum as much as he could. He wanted the floors, himself, the bedsheets, even the walls covered in her squirting. Now? He built the anticipation.

His eyebrow cocked when she told him to ask Zandy himself. He stepped back, turning to the side and kept his fingers inside Senni, still working in a rhythm as he watched her shifting form approach. Her voice in his mind telling him she could take whatever shape he wanted her to take.

“Your own shape.” He instructed her, his hand reaching up to take Zandy by the jaw and he brought her close to him. His thumb playing over her lips and then down to cup her breast, around to take a handful of her ass and he pulled the warm, shadowy form against him. His fingers still inside Y’Sennia before he leaned down, claiming Zandy’s kiss. For all he’d had his apprehensions? He was only a man; he could only be so virtuous and upstanding for so long.

Breaking Zandy’s kiss, he felt Senni begin to quiver on his hand. Ah, there it was. That hitch in her breath that told him she was right on that precipice; ready to fall over with one last push.

“Not yet.” He retracted his fingers, looking up to Senni then, bringing his fingers up to Zandy’s mouth.. And he leaned down to Zandy’s ear, speaking into it where Senni could hear him. “I wonder if she likes to watch.”
 
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