My instincts acted before reason could speak.
Press on.
I pushed my lips against hers, answering with the same hunger. My free hand, not guarding the treasure, slid up to hold her. Even through the cool night air, her body radiated heat.
When we finally pulled apart, the space between us was jagged with breath.
We didn't speak.
We just stared.
For one heartbeat, neither of us moved.
The lingerie still hung from my hand, quiet and damning. A witness to the crime.
"You charge well, General… and your soldier is already awake," she whispered, eyes flicking downward.
I followed her gaze.
Instant regret.
Damn it, soldier. I didn't give the order.
This was recon. Not a full assault.
But the traitor stood tall, saluting without an ounce of shame.
Brain? Innocent.
Hands? Already guilty.
Soldier? Full-blown treason.
Selene looked at me, muttering something under her breath. I saw it in her eyes—dark and bottomless, the kind that would devour anything to fill the void inside. That loneliness… it almost glowed in the dark.
If this is the only way I can conquer what haunts her, then fine.
As a general… I fight back.
I pulled the cape from my shoulder and wrapped it around the treasure I'd taken earlier, hiding it from view.
Selene stepped back, slow and sultry, her lips curling as she kept her eyes locked on mine.
That gaze..
It wasn't just watching me—it was marking me.
The eyes of a predator who had already chosen her battlefield.
Each step she took backward into the stream was deliberate, her movements smooth, seductive. The water curled around her thighs like even the current wanted to cling to her. She was luring me in without drawing a blade, pulling me across some invisible front line only she could see.
This isn't retreat... it's maneuver warfare.
She was baiting me, dictating the pace and choosing the ground, just like a seasoned general.
And I—damn me—I was following her exactly as she wanted.
I didn't speak. I didn't break eye contact.
Press on.
That was the only strategy left.
The traitorous soldier below my belt was more battle-ready than any army I'd ever commanded. My hands ached to seize the gracious arsenal strapped to her chest, but my brain locked up, stunned by the sheer dominance in her retreat.
I began to shed my armor.
Boots first.
Then the chest plate.
Then the leg guards.
Piece by piece, I stripped away my defenses, until only a thin shirt from another world clung to my skin.
I pulled that off too.
Now bare beneath the moonlight, I stood tall before her, my body tempered like a weapon, forged not in fire… but in purpose.
This is my weapon.
A weapon of passion.
One made to conquer you.
Her eyes scanned me—slowly, thoroughly. She drank in the sight.
I knew what she saw.
Not bulk, but form. A lean body sculpted by military training, ready for war.
Yet her gaze dipped lower… to the bulge straining against the last barrier I wore.
A smirk curled across her lips.
She raised a hand, beckoning.
Her voice came low, like a secret whispered in a war tent.
"War doesn't need any distractions."
I obeyed.
The final layer fell.
The morning wind should have stung against my skin, but my body burned too hot for the cold to reach.
As the trousers slid down, the soldier, My manhood stood proud.
Massive in girth, carved in tone, the living proof of a bloodline forged by generals.
A weapon born to breach the deepest caverns, driven by the headstrong will of its master.
I stepped into the stream.
Each stride sent ripples across the moonlit water as I closed the distance between us.
Plsh... shhlk... plshhh...
Then, without warning, she struck first.
A surprise frontal assault.
Lips on mine, fast and fierce, her advance carried the same force as a charge meant to shatter enemy lines.
My brain scrambled to deploy a counter. A dozen tactics surfaced…
but instinct said to meet her head-on.
Our lips locked.
The cold stream disappeared.
All that remained was fire.
"Mmm… chhup… nnnh…"
The wetness of her kiss deepened, echoing softly in the night air.
My hands moved like scouts in enemy territory, tracing the rise of her hips, the dip of her waist, the curve of her breasts. I mapped each inch like a strategist learning a new battlefield.
I searched for weaknesses—cracks in the armor.
A twitch in her leg.
A sharp inhale.
A slight shiver when my thumb grazed just beneath her ribs.
She wasn't yielding.
Her gaze burned into mine, a challenge, not a surrender.
The kind of look only a true commander gives.
One that says: "If you're going to take me... then do it like a conqueror."
Her kiss deepened again, tongue pressing forward, tasting me.
It was war.
A duel between wills, Tongue.
Her rhythm, unpredictable.
One moment I was advancing, the next she was inside my mouth
"Chhup... slrp… mmmn..."
I grasped her breasts, kneading the soft flesh, letting my thumbs tease over the tightening peaks.
She gasped into my mouth, the sound vibrating through her throat.
My hand slipped lower, past the lines of her navel, down to where her body pulsed with heat.
My fingers found her clit—wet, warm, alive.
I circled it slowly, firmly.
"Ahh… nnnh… mmhh…"
Selene moaned beneath me, her legs instinctively parting, hips rising into my touch.
The sound wasn't desperate—it was defiant.
A commander refused to be overtaken without a fight, even as her body betrayed her.
I could feel it. The moment when the battle shifts, when skirmishes give way to a full offensive.
With a surge of resolve, I lifted her from the stream.
She felt light in my arms, her body buoyed by the water, but heavy with meaning.
Her arms circled my shoulders, her breath close, lips grazing my ear. Her words came soft… and loaded.
"Then come, Commander... take the victory you seek."
The war for her loneliness wasn't some distant campaign anymore. It was right here. Now.
Her desire pressed against me like molten iron. I could feel it in the way her body clung to mine, in the heat radiating from her core.
I lowered her gently, guided by instinct more than reason.
My tip met her entrance.
Just for a second, I lingered.
Letting her feel it. Letting her body prepare for the siege to come.
Then I pushed in.
Slowly. Firmly. Deliberately.
Every inch that slid inside felt like advancing into hostile territory.
The path was slick, shifting beneath me. The kind of terrain built to unseat a man.
But instead of stopping me, it aided my advance. Her warmth, her wetness — it wrapped around me like a trap I had no desire to escape.
"Ahh… mmnh… hnnn…"
Her moans slipped free, soft at first, breathy and broken.
She leaned back, gripping my shoulders tight, her nails digging in. Her defenses were faltering, and I could feel it.
Words tried to leave her lips, but they came out as fragments.
Unintelligible… but powerful.
Every sound hit me like a war horn, calling me deeper.
Still, she fought.
Her hips shifted. Sometimes pulling me in. Sometimes resisting.
A warrior refusing to surrender.
Even as I pressed deeper.
Even as the ramming continued.
"Nnhh… ahh… mmf… mmhh..."
The sound of our bodies echoed with the stream, the soft shlk... plsh... of motion and water rising like smoke after cannonfire.
And still, I moved forward.
One thrust at a time.
Every thrust I made was a claim — not a request, not a plea.
A declaration.
My hips moved with relentless rhythm, each motion grinding into her like I was marking territory… no, seizing it.
This wasn't just sex.
It was a cleansing ritual.
Every inch of her I entered pushed something else out — some ghost of a past lover, some trauma, some ache she never voiced.
With each stroke, I felt her tighten, fight, then melt.
Her womanhood was no longer unfamiliar ground.
It was my land now.
To breach.
To defend.
To worship.
The head of my cock kissed the farthest point inside her, poking something tender, something that made her breath catch and her thighs shudder.
Still… something resisted.
Some final layer.
Then I shifted.
My hands locked under her hips, and in one clean motion, I flanked her.
"Kyaa…!"
She gasped, stumbling forward, her hands catching the curve of a mossy boulder.
Her back arched, bare ass gleaming under the moonlight, slick from the stream and from me.
I didn't hesitate.
My cock slipped back in from behind — this time deeper, angled sharper.
The sound of our bodies meeting echoed wetly, a mix of water, skin, and heat.
"Ahh… ahn… mmnn…!"
Each moan guided me.
Each tremble told me where to strike next.
Her legs shook as I drove forward.
The slap of my hips against her ass grew louder.
Faster.
Hungrier.
She looked back at me.
Eyes hazy.
Lips trembling.
Still fighting.
But not with anger…
With need.
"Finish this… free me from it," she whispered.
I paused.
Met her gaze.
Nodded.
"As you command."
I gripped her thighs and slammed forward.
Hard.
Deep.
All of me.
"Aaahh! G-General…! Haaa…!"
Her pussy clenched like it didn't want to let go.
Like it had finally chosen who it belonged to.
She spasmed under me, body jerking, toes curling in the stream.
Her orgasm hit like lightning.
"Mmh—haaah! Yes… yesss…!"
I wasn't done.
My hands spread her cheeks wider, pulling her into each thrust, fucking her through the aftershock.
My cock throbbed.
Balls tightening.
The pressure snapped.
I emptied inside her.
One,.. two,... three... thick pulses.
I stayed buried, letting her feel every drop.
Our bodies stilled.
Only the stream moved now, gently lapping at our legs.
She collapsed forward, legs giving out, strength gone.
I caught her before she fell completely, arms wrapping around her slick frame, holding her to me.
Her back pressed against my chest, still hard.
She was panting.
Wet.
Shaking.
Beautiful.
Her arms clung to my shoulders like I was the last thing anchoring her to this world.
I didn't pull out.
I wanted her to feel it
That I was still inside her.
Still hers.
Still claiming her from the inside.
Her lips brushed my face.
"General… are you okay?"
Her voice was hoarse but clear.
I blinked.
Before I could answer, she gave me a weak smile.
Soft. Grateful.
A kind of smile you only give to someone…
who didn't just fuck you…
but freed you.
The siege was over.
The fortress was mine.
And so was she.
***
The stream whispered around us, carrying away the last ripples of our clash.
Selene's breathing had slowed, but her eyes still carried that same shadowed depth.
That loneliness... the one she wore like armor.
Only now, it felt thinner.
Cracked.
Like a fortress wall kissed by sunlight for the first time in years.
I held her steady.
She was still trembling — barely — but not from fear.
From aftershock.
From release.
I didn't speak.
Not yet.
A commander knows the value of silence after battle.
The hush where victory settles, and both sides count the cost.
Then her voice broke the stillness.
"It's… quieter inside."
She sounded surprised, like she hadn't expected peace to be real.
"Quieter?" I asked.
She nodded faintly, eyes drifting shut.
"The loneliness… it's not shouting anymore."
That hit me deeper than any scream.
Not triumph.
Not pride.
Just... that still, solid feeling of a mission fulfilled.
Not for territory.
Not for coins.
But for her.
I looked at her — truly looked.
Relief.
Exhaustion.
And something else flickering behind her lashes.
Maybe trust.
Maybe the start of it.
Mission complete.
Target secured.
Objective met.
But beneath that…
A quieter voice in me whispered:
And maybe this was worth more than anything War Dominion could ever reward me with.
She slowly pulled back, her gaze steady.
Then, with no ceremony, no tension…
She kissed me.
A soft press of lips.
Warm against the cold stream air.
A kiss that felt less like surrender… and more like promise.
Her hips shifted, just enough to tease a reaction.
Then she whispered, half-laughing, half-breathless:
"You're still hard… I want more… but we need to get back now."
That snapped me back.
The heat in my gut twisted with guilt.
She was right.
I'd gotten too comfortable in the aftermath of conquest — forgetting that the war wasn't over.
I nodded, brushing wet strands of hair from her face.
"You're right," I said. Voice quiet. Heavy.
Her body slowly pulled away from mine, the last warmth fading as the current swept between us.
But her hand lingered — sliding across my chest, fingers tracing slow lines, stopping just above where the fire still pulsed inside me.
She looked back.
Smirked.
Then, with a voice soft as silk and eyes that still carried that wild glint, she whispered:
"After all this… when the orcs are dead…"
She giggled. Low. Dangerous. Almost playful
"…I'll reward you with something better."
I didn't answer.
I didn't have to.
Because at that moment…
with her lips still tingling on mine,
and her scent clinging to my skin,
I knew…
Whatever happened next,
whatever battles we faced,
this moment belonged to us.
And only the forest would remember it.
To be continued...