Elaric Voss and Lirael walked side by side along the sun-dappled forest road, the morning air crisp and pine-scented, carrying the faint earthy tang of dew on moss and the distant rush of a stream. Elaric carried both their packs effortlessly—one slung over his broad shoulder, the other gripped in his strong hand—the worn leather warm from his skin, straps creaking softly with each step.
Lirael glanced up at him, silver-blonde hair swaying gently, her loose traveling robe brushing against his arm with every stride, the silk whispering over her lithe curves and releasing faint traces of her familiar floral scent mixed with the subtle, lingering warmth of arousal from their closeness.
"So… are we going to walk all the way to the capital on foot?" she asked, voice light but curious, emerald eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
Elaric smiled faintly. "No. We have priestesses who'll give us a ride to the capital."
"Why would they?" she teased, hip bumping his playfully.
"You'll know when we meet them."
Ahead, the ornate carriage came into view—polished oak gleaming, gilded sun symbols catching the light, horses snorting steam in the cool air. The surviving knights, armor patched but polished, readied the mounts, the faint metallic clink of harnesses and the rich leather scent of saddles filling the space.
The two priestesses—Sister Aurelia and Sister Isolde—stood beside it, robes freshly cleaned but still clinging softly to their voluptuous figures from the morning's lingering humidity. Aurelia's auburn hair cascaded over one shoulder, framing the generous swell of her breasts; Isolde's raven locks framed her blue eyes, robe riding high enough to reveal smooth, pale thighs as she adjusted her glowing staff.
They turned as Elaric and Lirael approached, recognition dawning—cheeks flushing faintly, breaths quickening at the memory of their savior.
"Where are you two headed?" Aurelia asked, voice warm and slightly breathless.
"To the capital," Elaric replied politely. "Any chance you could give us a ride?"
The knights exchanged quick glances—grateful, respectful nods—while the priestesses' eyes lit with quiet eagerness. Who would refuse such a strong, proven companion on a dangerous road?
The knights took their packs without hesitation, stowing them securely at the carriage's rear—the leather thumping softly against wood.
The carriage lurched into motion, wheels creaking rhythmically over the dirt road, horses' hooves clipping steadily as the knights rode escort, armor glinting in the sun.
Inside the plush, cushioned interior—scented with faint incense and the warm, feminine perfume of the priestesses—Lirael sat nestled between Aurelia and Isolde, their soft, robed bodies pressing close on either side, thighs brushing hers with every sway of the carriage.
"So…" Isolde began, voice low and playful, leaning in until her breath warmed Lirael's ear, "tell us—how did you become Elaric's girlfriend? We want the juicy story."
Aurelia's hand rested lightly on Lirael's knee, fingers tracing idle circles through the thin fabric as all three women slipped into full gossip mode—soft laughter, whispered secrets, shared glances heavy with feminine curiosity and the subtle heat of bodies pressed together in the intimate space.
Elaric sat opposite, legs stretched comfortably, gazing out the window at the passing forest—sunlight flickering through leaves, birds flitting overhead—content to enjoy the gentle sway of the carriage, the rhythmic creak of wheels, and the quiet, melodic sound of Lirael's voice mingling with the priestesses' in easy, intimate conversation.
The journey had truly begun.
The carriage rolled to a gentle stop in front of the village inn just as night fully claimed the sky, the last traces of sunset bleeding into deep indigo above the thatched rooftops. Lanterns flickered to life along the cobblestone street, their warm golden glow spilling across the ground and casting dancing shadows on the carriage wheels still dusted with road dirt. The air had cooled sharply, carrying the rich, smoky scent of burning hearth wood from nearby chimneys, mingled with the faint, earthy aroma of cooling soil and distant stables.
They decided to stay the night. Elaric paid the innkeeper—a stout woman with rosy cheeks—for the rooms, the heavy clink of coins warm from his pouch echoing softly in the quiet common room, where the low murmur of travelers and the crackle of a fireplace filled the space.
The three women—Lirael, Aurelia, and Isolde—headed to their shared room, robes whispering against the wooden stairs, their soft laughter and the subtle brush of silk on skin trailing behind them like an intimate promise. The knights took their two rooms with grateful nods, armor clanking faintly as they climbed.
Elaric paid for his separate room, the key cool and heavy in his palm. He stepped inside, closing the sturdy oak door with a soft, definitive thud that muffled the inn's distant sounds. The chamber was small but cozy: a wide bed with fresh linen sheets that carried the clean scent of sun-dried cotton and faint lavender, a single candle flickering on the bedside table, casting warm light over the simple wooden furnishings.
He shed his boots, the leather creaking as he set them aside, then loosened his tunic—fabric rasping softly against his skin, still faintly warm from the day's travel and the lingering heat of Lirael's closeness in the carriage. The bed welcomed him as he lay back, sheets cool and smooth against his back, cradling his body as exhaustion from the road and the unspoken weight of the day settled over him.
Within moments, his eyes drifted shut, breath deepening into the steady rhythm of sleep—the faint crackle of the inn's hearth downstairs and the distant murmur of voices lulling him into a deep, restorative nap.
The carriage rolled to a gentle stop in front of the village inn just as night fully claimed the sky, stars pricking through the velvet dark like scattered diamonds. Lanterns along the inn's wooden facade glowed with warm amber light, spilling across the cobblestones and casting long, intimate shadows. The air had cooled to a crisp bite, carrying the rich, smoky scent of burning oak from the hearth inside, mingled with the faint, earthy aroma of hay from nearby stables and the lingering warmth of the day's travel on their skin.
They decided to stay the night. Elaric paid the innkeeper with a quiet clink of coins, the gold warm from his pouch. Three women—Aurelia, Isolde, and Lirael—were given one spacious room; the knights took two smaller ones with grateful nods, their armor clanking softly as they climbed the creaking stairs.
Elaric requested his own separate room. He stepped inside, closing the heavy oak door with a soft, definitive thud that sealed out the inn's distant murmurs. The chamber was simple but inviting: a wide bed with fresh linen sheets that smelled of clean cotton and faint lavender, a single beeswax candle flickering on the bedside table, its golden flame dancing across the walls and warming the air with a subtle honeyed scent.
He shed his boots, the leather sighing as it hit the floor, then loosened his tunic—fabric rasping over his skin, still carrying the faint, musky trace of Lirael's closeness in the carriage and the subtle salt of dried sweat from the day's journey. His cock, heavy and half-roused from hours of her body pressed near, shifted against his thigh as he stretched out on the cool sheets.
The linen was smooth and inviting against his bare back, cradling his body as exhaustion pulled at him. Within moments, his eyes drifted shut, breath deepening into slow, even rhythm—the faint crackle of the inn's hearth downstairs and the muffled voices of travelers lulling him into a deep, restorative nap, the promise of tomorrow's road already stirring faint dreams of Lirael's soft curves and warmer nights ahead.
Elaric drifted in the hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, the inn's quiet night sounds filtering through the walls—the distant creak of floorboards, a muffled moan from some other room, the soft pop of logs in the common-room hearth. The linen sheets had warmed beneath his body, clinging lightly to his bare chest and hips where he'd stripped down to nothing, the cool air kissing his exposed skin and tightening his nipples to stiff peaks.
A soft knock came at the door—three gentle taps, hesitant yet deliberate.
He opened his eyes, cock already half-hard from restless dreams of Lirael's body pressed against him in the carriage, the sway of her hips, the brush of her breath on his neck. He rose, sheet falling away to reveal his naked form in the candlelight—muscles shifting under taut skin, shaft thickening further as blood rushed south, the broad head glistening with a fresh bead of pre-cum that trailed slowly down the underside.
He opened the door just enough.
Lirael stood there in the dim hallway, silver hair loose and glowing in the lantern light, her traveling robe hanging open at the front—untied, revealing the full length of her lithe, naked body beneath. Her pert breasts rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, nipples dark and erect, begging for touch. Lower, the smooth plane of her belly led to the soft silver curls above her mound, her thighs already parted slightly, the inner skin flushed and glistening with unmistakable arousal that scented the air between them—sweet, warm, intoxicating.
Behind her, Aurelia and Isolde lingered a step back, robes similarly loosened. Aurelia's auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, framing heavy, creamy breasts with dark rose nipples stiff and prominent; Isolde's raven locks framed her fuller curves, robe parted to expose the generous swell of her hips and the shadowed, slick folds between her thick thighs—both women flushed, lips parted, eyes heavy with the same unspoken need.
"We… couldn't sleep," Lirael whispered, voice husky, stepping closer until her bare breasts brushed his chest, nipples dragging deliciously against his skin. "We kept thinking about our savior… how strong you were… how grateful we are."
Her hand slid down his abdomen, fingers tracing the defined lines of muscle before wrapping gently around his now fully erect cock—warm palm stroking slowly from root to crown, thumb swirling over the slick head to spread his pre-cum in glistening circles. Elaric's breath hitched; his shaft throbbed in her grip, veins pulsing against her fingers.
Aurelia and Isolde moved in behind her, robes falling open further—soft hands reaching to caress his hips, his back, one palm cupping his heavy balls with reverent gentleness, rolling them slowly as Isolde's full breasts pressed against Lirael's back.
They guided him backward into the room, door closing softly. Candlelight danced across four naked bodies—skin flushed and gleaming, breaths mingling in the warm air thick with the scent of feminine arousal and male need.
Lirael pushed him gently onto the bed, sheets cool against his heated skin. She climbed over him first, straddling his hips but not taking him yet—her slick folds sliding along the length of his cock, coating him in her abundant wetness, clit dragging slowly over the sensitive ridge until both shuddered. Aurelia knelt to one side, leaning down to take one of his nipples into her warm mouth—tongue swirling, sucking softly as her heavy breast brushed his arm. Isolde mirrored her on the other side, lips closing around his other nipple, fingers tracing lazy patterns down his abdomen toward where Lirael ground against him.
Hands everywhere—soft, warm, exploring. Lirael's fingers laced with his, guiding one hand to her breast; he cupped the firm weight, thumb circling the stiff nipple until she moaned into his mouth in a slow, deep kiss. Tongues slid together lazily, tasting, sharing breath, saliva mixing in thin, glistening strands when they parted for air.
Aurelia's hand joined Lirael's between his legs, both women stroking his slick shaft in alternating rhythm—slow, deliberate pumps that spread their combined fluids, thumb and fingers teasing the sensitive head until pre-cum beaded steadily and dripped down to coat their palms.
No rush. No pain. Just endless, slow-burning worship—lips trailing down his chest, tongues tasting salt and skin, breasts pressing soft and heavy against him, slick folds grinding in teasing promise along his length.
The night stretched long and languid, four bodies entwined in candlelit warmth, every touch drawn out, every breath shared, every slide of skin on skin building the ache higher and higher—until pleasure finally crested in long, shuddering waves of release, again and again, until dawn's first light crept through the shutters and they lay spent, tangled, and utterly sated in the rumpled sheets.
Elaric's nap shattered the moment the soft knock sounded again—this time three deliberate taps, followed by the faint rustle of silk outside his door.
He rose from the bed, naked and unashamed, his cock already thickening from the lingering heat of dreams—long, veined, curving slightly upward as blood rushed south, the broad head flushed dark and glistening with a fresh bead of pre-cum that trailed slowly down the underside. Candlelight danced across his skin, highlighting the defined ridges of his abdomen and the heavy sway of his balls as he crossed the room.
He opened the door.
Lirael stood at the threshold, silver hair loose and glowing in the hallway's dim lantern light, her traveling robe hanging completely open—untied, parted to reveal every inch of her lithe, naked body. Her pert breasts rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, nipples dark and stiff, begging for touch. Lower, the smooth plane of her belly led to soft silver curls above her mound, her thighs already parted slightly, inner skin flushed deep rose and shining with the abundant slick of her arousal that scented the air—sweet, warm, intoxicatingly feminine.
Behind her, Aurelia and Isolde waited a step back, robes similarly loosened and slipping from their shoulders. Aurelia's auburn hair spilled over her creamy skin, framing heavy, full breasts with dark rose nipples erect and prominent, a faint sheen of perspiration tracing the deep valley between them. Isolde's raven locks framed her curvier figure, robe parted to expose wide hips and thick thighs, the shadowed, swollen folds of her pussy glistening visibly, lips parted and slick with need.
"We couldn't sleep," Lirael whispered, voice husky and trembling with desire. She stepped forward until her bare breasts brushed his chest, stiff nipples dragging deliciously across his skin, sending sparks straight to his groin. "We kept thinking about you… how you saved us… how strong you felt…"
Her hand slid down his abdomen, fingers tracing the hard lines of muscle before wrapping gently around his now fully erect cock—warm palm stroking slowly from root to crown, thumb swirling over the slick head to spread his pre-cum in glistening circles. Elaric's breath hitched; his shaft throbbed in her grip, veins pulsing against her fingers as another thick drop welled and dripped down her knuckles.
Aurelia and Isolde moved in, robes falling fully open. Soft hands reached for him—Aurelia cupping his heavy balls with reverent gentleness, rolling them slowly as her full breasts pressed against his arm; Isolde's fingers tracing the sensitive underside of his shaft alongside Lirael's, their combined touch slick and warm, spreading his leaking fluid in slow, deliberate pumps.
They guided him backward to the bed, candlelight flickering across four naked bodies—skin flushed and gleaming, breaths mingling in the warm, incense-scented air thick with feminine arousal and male need.
Lirael pushed him gently down onto the cool linen sheets, then climbed over him, straddling his hips without taking him yet. Her slick folds parted around the length of his cock, sliding slowly along the underside—hot, wet velvet coating him in her abundant juices, her swollen clit dragging over the sensitive ridge with every deliberate rock of her hips. She leaned forward, breasts brushing his chest, nipples grazing his as she captured his mouth in a deep, lingering kiss—tongues sliding lazily, tasting, sharing breath, saliva mixing in thin, glistening strands when they parted for air.
Aurelia knelt to one side, leaning down to take one of his nipples into her warm mouth—tongue swirling slow circles, sucking softly as her heavy breast rested against his arm, nipple hard against his skin. Isolde mirrored her on the other side, lips closing around his other nipple, fingers tracing lazy patterns down his abdomen toward where Lirael ground against him, adding her own slick fingers to stroke his shaft in tandem.
Hands everywhere—soft, warm, exploring. Lirael guided one of his hands to her breast; he cupped the firm weight, thumb circling the stiff nipple until she moaned into his mouth. Aurelia's hand joined Lirael's between his legs, both women stroking him in alternating rhythm—slow, deliberate pumps that spread their combined fluids, thumbs teasing the sensitive head until pre-cum beaded steadily and dripped down to coat their palms.
Isolde shifted lower, her full breasts dragging down his torso as she settled between his thighs. Her warm breath ghosted over his slick cock before her tongue traced a long, slow stripe from base to crown, tasting the mingled essence of Lirael's arousal and his own salty pre-cum. She hummed softly, lips sealing around the head, sucking gently while her hand cupped his balls, rolling them with tender pressure.
Lirael rose slightly, positioning herself—her dripping entrance kissing the tip of his cock, coating it further in her warmth. She sank down inch by agonizing inch, walls fluttering and clenching around his bare length, drawing twin gasps as raw skin met raw skin. The sensation was overwhelming—scorching heat, slick velvet gripping him tightly, every vein and ridge dragging along her sensitive channel until he was buried to the hilt, the broad head pressing flush against her cervix.
She stilled, savoring the fullness, inner muscles rippling in slow waves that milked him unconsciously. Then she began to move—slow, deep rolls of her hips that lifted her almost off him before sinking back down, the wet, intimate sounds of their joining filling the room. Aurelia and Isolde watched with heavy-lidded eyes, fingers wandering to their own aching folds, stroking in time with Lirael's rhythm.
Hours blurred into endless, slow-burning worship—bodies shifting, mouths tasting every inch of skin, hands stroking and teasing without hurry. Lirael rode him with loving patience, then Aurelia took her turn—full breasts swaying as she sank down, walls plush and welcoming, grinding in deep circles that made him groan into Isolde's kiss. Isolde followed, thick thighs framing his hips, riding slow and deliberate, her moans muffled against Lirael's breast as the elf sucked and teased her nipple.
They shared him completely—kisses passed between all four, tongues sliding lazy and wet; hands stroking wherever they could reach, spreading slick fluids across skin; bodies pressing close in warm, sweat-damp tangles. Climaxes built gradually, drawn out in long, shuddering waves—Lirael first, walls clenching hard around him as she cried out softly into his mouth; Aurelia next, breasts bouncing as she ground down and flooded him with fresh warmth; Isolde last, thighs trembling as she came with a low, throaty moan, pulling him over the edge with her.
He spilled deep inside each of them in turn—thick, pulsing jets that filled them to overflowing, cum leaking slowly around his shaft with every continued rock of hips, coating thighs and sheets in creamy warmth.
When dawn's first light finally crept through the shutters, they lay spent and entangled—skin flushed and glistening, breaths syncing in exhausted contentment, bodies marked with kisses and the sticky evidence of shared pleasure, the room thick with the scent of sex and sated desire.
No words were needed. Gratitude had been given—slowly, thoroughly, and without end.