By Soule

Anarchaia waves a hand and her fall is slowed. She gently lands on the blankets and rolls onto her stomach to watch him climb the stairs. “Be careful.”

Pfft. I got it.” He drops onto the bed beside her with a charming smile. “This is a reallycomfortable bed. Wow.”

Anarchaia rolls again to place her head in his lap and smile up at him. “It’s a shame it’s hardly used. A waste of money, really.”

“Mmm,” Koltira hums sympathetically. “Well, you could get rid of it… Or you can make use of it.” He directs a sly smile down to her.

The mage returns the smile and sits up to straddle his hips. She kisses him, hands on his chest. “The latter sounds more efficient.”

He takes her chin in his fingers and pulls her lips again to his. The heat of her mouth mingles with the chill of his own, and he groans when her tongue finds his. “Efficiency is good,” he says against her lips, smiling.

The mage grabs his shirt by the front and tears it from his torso; instead of ripping, however, the fabric sparkles and becomes ethereal, then turns solid as it’s thrown over the edge of the bed. He lifts his eyebrows and chuckles as she unlaces her own top. “Sit against the board,” she breathes, gesturing to the head of the bed with her chin.

Koltira nods and pushes himself back to lean against the headboard, careful not to pull his own hair as he does so. He rests his hands behind his head and watches as she kicks off her boots, pulls off his and throws them down to hers, and crawls up to him, her shirt hanging from the button at her collarbone. He brings a hand up to ease the collar up and over her head, then tosses it aside. His fingers run down the tight skin of her chest and come to curl around a modest breast. Her gasp is silenced by his lips.

Her unfeeling fingers trace down his front until they reach the hem of his trousers where they pull eagerly at the strings. She grasps his hardening organ in a palm and pulls it free.

He again groans into their kiss and slides his own hands around her ribs and to her back. His palms run down to tuck into her tight pants where he grabs each of her hind cheeks and pulls her forward.

She presses her chest against his and her kisses grow more fervent, more hungry. Gently she reaches behind herself to remove his hands, then breaks their kiss to push herself back.

He lifts his hips when she tugs at his breeches and they, too, join the rest of the clothes on the floor. He inhales through his teeth and leans his head back against the board as the slick heat of her mouth embraces his member. His fingers tangle in her snowy hair and his breath hitches when his length is pressed into her throat. A groan escapes him and he grits his teeth. A hum rings against his shaft and the muscles in his thighs tense at the shock of pleasure. He looks down to find her staring up at him with lust laden eyes, gazing up into his face as her head lowers and raises.

She pulls him out of her lips and places kisses down the length of the underside–each gentle and lingering–then runs her tongue back up to wrap her lips around the head again and suck.

Koltira throws his head back again and swallows a moan. “Ana,” he breathes. “Slow down.” He tenses and groans when she replies with an mm-mm while still sucking. His fingers grip her hair tightly and he finds himself gently rocking his hips with her rhythm. His climax wells within his loins and he clenches the sheets. His chest heaves with his heavy panting. “Ana, I mean it.”

Her fingers wrap around his on the bed and she again hums a note, this time of affirmation.

Before he can pull her head away from his groin, he instead finds himself pushing his manhood further inside. He bends forward and cries out as waves of ecstasy pulse through his core and straight into his head and the space behind his eyes.

Anarchaia smiles what little she can with an open mouth. A familiar taste fills her mouth and splashes against the back of her throat. She closes her eyes and enjoys the feeling of his muscle twitching against her flattened tongue with each pump. When she’s sure he’s finished, she pulls his softening member from her mouth and swallows. With the back of a wrist she wipes at the corner of her lips and takes in the sight of his body–breathless and pushing his hair from his face, gentle abdominals shuddering with his breaths, lips slightly parted with small indentations where he’d been biting them.

The mage leans down to trail kisses up his stomach and chest, then up his neck and jaw. She hesitantly kisses at his cheek, then smiles when he turns to press his lips to hers.

“Your turn,” he barely whispers against her lips and Anarchaia hums in protest.

Mm, no, you don’t have to.” She gasps as he grabs her roughly by the hips and rolls to switch places with her. She sighs as his lips find her breast and brings up a hand to grab at the tresses on the back of his head. Another gasp escapes her as his tongue flattens against her nipple and runs across it slowly, methodically, so she can feel every bump. She looks away and chews on a knuckle when she makes eye contact. “Honestly, Koltira, you don’t…”

He bites at the now erect peak of her breast and she jerks and moans. “I wasn’t asking,” he responds coyly and unlaces her pants–they are also thrown haphazardly to the carpet.

Anarchaia furrows her brow down at him and smiles. “More manhandling, then?” She inhales slowly when his cold fingers push into her throbbing nethers and her grin melts into a wanton expression. She arches her back as his digits gently brush against her most sensitive spot. She whines behind her lips and her knuckle returns to her teeth.

Koltira leans up to kiss at the soft skin of her neck. He pushes harder at the spot inside her canal and smiles as her moans vibrate against his lips. His thumb presses against the engorged button at the apex of her lower lips and he wraps his arm around her to hold her as she writhes. Her hand finds his already half swollen member and it takes only a few strokes to bring it back to standing, erect and eager.

She moans and grabs at his wrist. “Put it in,” she pants.

“Not yet.” The death knight nudges her face to press their foreheads together and shifts so that he’s atop her. His blue orbs gaze into her flushed, drunken face, watching as the red eye in her empty socket flickers with each stroke of his fingers, how her glistening lips part as she gasps. He reaches up to cradle the back of her head with his free hand and push greedy, passionate kisses into her lips.

The feeling of his tongue entwined with hers causes Anarchaia to push her chest into his and her brow knits as she moans loudly into their kiss. Her muscles shudder, moistening his fingers with the fruit of her climax. Her own fingers claw uselessly at his back when he continues to stroke. She breaks their kiss to laugh breathlessly and squirm. “Stop!” she whimpers and clamps her thighs around his wrist. “Too much!”

Koltira smirks and plants more kisses on her lips and cheek. “Still want me to put it in?” he chuckles and nips at her lower lip.

The mage sits, breathing quietly for a moment, then flinches when his manhood brushes at her button. She takes his face in her hands and moans. “Yeah,” she finally says, her lips tickling his as she speaks. Her hips lift to find and kiss the tip of his shaft with her wet lips.

The elf pushes into the heat between her thighs and it urges a hiss through his teeth. Anarchaia mewls as she feels each inch of his cool length fill her. He groans as he pushes to the hilt. “So hot,” he breathes against her lips and closes his eyes to relish the feeling.

“So cold,” she responds with a smile, her eyes glancing between his and his lips. She kisses him and hums when he withdraws.

“Is that bad?”

“No. I love it.” She gasps as he fills her again. “When it’s warm, I can’t feel it as well as I can feel you.” And again. “All of it.” She moans. “It’s perfect.”

Koltira runs his thumb along her jaw as he thrusts. “You’re perfect.”

Her blush somehow darkens and she tries to look away, a silly grin on her features, but he pushes her face back with his nose and kisses her smiling lips.

“I’m not,” she breathes when he pulls away, but is silenced with another kiss before she can protest more.

Moments that feel like seconds pass, filled with moans, gasps, desperate and hungry kisses, and caresses. When she can feel it building again, Anarchaia wraps a leg around his thigh and pushes him over to roll atop him without removing him from within her. She sits up and his hands wander up her thin frame, over her ribs, then back down to her sharp hips.

The death knight groans as she twists her hips and continues with their rhythm. His fingers twitch against her skin each time she buries him.

Anarchaia sighs happily and furrows her brow in concentration. Her hands wander up to his chest and tense against the firm muscles on either side of the awful scar that streaks up his torso. A whine ekes from her throat.

Koltira grits his teeth and leans his head back. He moans when her insides shudder around his shaft and he withdraws before the convulsions of her orgasm can send him over the edge as well. He pulls her down into his arms so she can pant, tremble, and whimper into his shoulder. When she’s calmed some, he sits up, back against the headboard, and eases back into her hot flower. Another moan rumbles from the depths of his throat.

Anarchaia mewls in his ear and wraps her arms about his neck. “This is so-oh! much better,” she whispers, biting her lip.

“Than?” he responds with a smile and brings a hand up to cradle the back of her head.

“Than the woods.”

He laughs and presses his cheek to the side of her head, taking in her perfume and enjoying the silkiness of her hair against his skin. “You don’t miss the pine needles in your ass?” he chuckles through his panting.

“I’ll admit the–nn!–thrill of getting caught was k-kind of hot. Heh.” She gasps as the pleasure in her core sparks through her at the memory and her hips grind faster of their own accord.

“If you’re a little louder, you could have that thrill here, as well.” Koltira’s breath hitches in his throat. The burning in his loins intensifies.

She hums against his neck, her breath making the skin there damp and warm. Her teeth graze at his earlobe and the sensation makes his muscles tense, causing her to chirp.

“More,” he grumbles, brow knit.

“More what?”


The mage obliges and nibbles at his ear again, then moans when he thrusts into her with more need. She does it again, a little harder, and claws harmlessly at his back when he increases the pace. The promise of another climax tingles throughout her being and she moans loudly. On a whim and momentarily losing herself, Anarchaia buries her teeth in his shoulder and cries out against the blood in her mouth.

Koltira jerks forward and gives a breathless cry as well. His organ swells inside her and he drives into her even harder. His seed spills into her depths, dousing her insides more with each waning thrust.

Anarchaia’s eyelids flutter as the pleasure swims through her head, core, and veins.

They both shudder in one another’s arms. When the waves of warm ecstasy fade, the two relax and melt back into the headboard together, gasping for unnecessary air.

The mage tiredly lifts her head when the skin of her cheek uncomfortably slides against his. Her eyes widen at the angry marks in his flesh. “O-oh. Uhm…” She wipes at her face and her ivory fingers come back red. “I-…I got carried away. Kolt, I’m sorry.”

The death knight gives a drained laugh and wipes the blood away. “It’s fine.” A blush tints his cheeks and he avoids her eye as he disperses the blood between his palms behind her back. “…I liked it.”

Anarchaia licks the blood from her lips and frowns. She lifts a palm ever so slightly and the red lifts itself from their skin. The liquid pools into a floating orb that disappears into a swirl of sparkles. A smile pulls at her lips. “You did, hm?” She conjures a folded, damp cloth and presses it against the wound.

Koltira inhales sharply but otherwise makes no protest.

The mage titters and kisses his cheek. “I’ll remember that.” She sobers and folds the cloth in the opposite way to press the clean side to the teeth marks. “I won’t be this rough, though. I’m sure I can find something that won’t make you bleed.”

“I don’t mind.” Koltira lifts a finger to her chin and leans forward to bring their lips together. “Mm. I’ve shed more blood doing less fun things.”

She smiles against his lips and rolls off him to curl into his shoulder. With a sigh she reaches beneath them to pull out the quilt and drape it over their legs and hips. She wraps her arms around his bicep and squeezes it to her chest with a contented sigh. “If only we could sleep.”

Koltira sinks beneath the blankets and lifts a hand to set on hers. He closes his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“We could just lie here all night, then.” Her eyelashes tickle his skin as she closes her eyes as well.

“We have to sleep to do that?”

She smiles against his arm. “No. No we don’t.”