Free solo climbing a stone tower in the middle of a city was not a skill every person possessed. But Dian Harroca was not every person. Nimble, experienced fingers found every nook and cranny in the stonework, every crumbling piece of mortar. His forearms and thighs ached, protested, but Dian found that small part of himself to retreat into, to ignore the strain and concentrate on moving ever up.
The city of Everhold stretched out far below him, a sprawling warren of streets and buildings of every shape and size. The glistening Ream River sparkled silver and blue to the east, curling and snaking into the distance, dotted with white sails. High above, the three moons stood proud in a clear, star-speckled sky.
Dian ignored it all. His target lay several stories above, and it would not do for him to lose his concentration now. Not when it was so far down. A nasty way to die, that. Old Beric has died that way, his skull cracked open on the cold, unforgiving concrete. The memory sometimes made Dian jolt awake at night.
Slowly, hand hold by hand hold, Dian made his way up the tower. The wind tugged, making the dark grey cloak around him flap like a banner, made his long black hair stream. His breath laboured, but he pushed on until he reached his destination.
The tower was the tallest structure in Everhold, a massive cylindrical structure of stone. It was the source of many a rumour. Nobody in the city, besides the Queen perhaps, knew exactly what it was. Some said the city had been built around the tower, others that it had sprung into existence, fully formed, more than a century ago. The fact that the tower had no apparent entrances, or even windows, certainly helped its air of mystery. Nobody had come in, and nobody had come out. Until, hopefully, tonight.
Dian had done his research. It was a tough nut to crack, for sure, but a little common sense helped. A floor had an average height. He just had to climb to a place that made sense to have a floor space on the other side. Once inside, whatever was within would be ripe for his picking.
Cracking that nut was a difficult matter, of course. But he’d had an idea. It had taken some time, reaching out to the right contacts, doing the right bit of work for the right person, but eventually he had what he wanted. He had his way in.
Dian shifted into a sturdy position, spreading his weight between his boots and one firm hand grip, using his free hand to dig into the pouch at his side. A second later, he retrieved the small patch of fabric. A lot of money, a lot of time, that fabric had cost him. One use. He hadn’t had a chance to test it. It was all or nothing.
He slapped the fabric against the side of the wall. Felt it adhere. Dian shifted back, and waited. At first, nothing happened. A moment of panic set in. Had he been conned? Then the patch of fabric began to glow, the image etched onto it turning gold. There was a soft flash that forced Dian to clamp his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, there was a wooden door on the side of the tower.
A soft smile crossed Dian’s features, a touch of smugness. A relatively simple enchantment, one many people wouldn’t think to employ in this situation. But again, Dian was not many people. You didn’t get to be the greatest thief in Everhold by being many people. He slipped back into position, reached for the handle, opened the door, and bit back a curse.
The spell had worked. It had created a door, a magical door where one had not been before, that gained him entry to the tower. It was just that he had miscalculated. His maths sucked. He’d set himself up directly in the middle of two levels, most of the space on the other side of the door made up of heavily carpeted floor. There was a gap above, just large enough for him to squeeze his way through, but it cut away any chance of a swift exit. And if things went wrong, a swift exit was always the one thing you wanted.
Well. He was here now. Further than anyone had gotten before, as far as he could tell. And frankly, there had been no way he was going to turn back now. Not with the prospect of some unique loot within. His mind swimming with the thought of untold gold, riches, and artefacts, Dian eased his way to the opening, pressing himself through the gap, and dragged himself into the tower.
Dian rose, brushing down his long cloak, removing the dust from his ascent up the tower, then finally looked around him. He stood at one end of a large library, the ceiling almost double what he had imagined it should have been. Books of every size and colour filled multiple shelves that stretched all the way up, while a score or more tapestries hung from the walls, providing splashes of colour. Clay pots stood on side tables and in empty shelf space, each one with drooping spider plants giving a touch of green all around. A myriad of small decorative pieces filled what space was left; delicate glass sculptures, oddly worked spherical cages, and the occasional bleached skull. The chamber itself was lit by a half dozen candles burning in exquisitely crafted candelabras atop long tables, which themselves were surrounded by plush leather chairs. Strangest of all, at the far end was a large stone hearth, the fire within it lit and merrily providing warmth to the whole room.
“Well, that’s a start,” he breathed. He crossed to one of the candelabras, running a finger across the fine craftsmanship. Dwarven, unless he was mistaken. They’d fetch a pretty penny, to the right person. Two of them vanished into his rucksack. A good start, yes, but there was bound to be something more. He had barely scratched the surface of this tower, and if the rest of it was like this, the good stuff would be elsewhere.
He crept towards the spiralling metal stairwell in the middle of the room, his practised feet making barely a whisper as they whisked across the heavily carpeted floor. He glanced down, eyes and ears straining for the sight or sound of any movement. He wasn’t stupid enough to think this place deserted, not if the illumination and the healthy plants in the library were anything to go on. Satisfied that there was nothing below, Dian carefully began to descend.
When he reached the bottom, he blinked in confusion. The stairs had been in the middle of the library, and had gone straight down, but now Dian found himself at the far end of a large, domed, chamber. His mind rebelled; the shape and size of this room was larger than the circumference of the tower itself. Across from him was a gigantic circular window, the panes separated by curved bars that gave it strange patterns. And visible through the glass was what appeared to be a large snow-peaked mountain range.
The rest of the room was given over to what seemed a laboratory of sorts. A long table, stacked high with books and candelabras and statues of all kinds. A plain wooden workbench, scored with scorch marks and deep gashes. Shelves stocked high with bottles and glass tubes, each one filled with a hundred different coloured liquids. An alchemical set up, the glass beakers connected by long tubes. To one side was a large orrery made of solid brass. There was an enormous telescope pointed directly towards the large circular window.
“Magic.” The word was little more than a growl. Dian had had his suspicions of this place, but the shifting dimensions and strange architecture confirmed them. He’d dealt with mages before; stolen for or from them. Dian knew two things about mages. The first was that they were tricky. You never knew what they had up their sleeves, no matter how much they tried to convince you there was nothing there.
The second was that they were definitely worth stealing from. People who scoured the world for interesting artefacts, and used magics to prolong their own life, usually had the best stuff.
There was, he noted after a quick glance around, only one other set of stairs leading from the laboratory, over to the side. A single, direct set of red carpeted stairs, protected by a worked iron handrail. A set of stairs that led up.
Dian shook his head. “Magic,” he repeated. He reached the stairs, and began up them. His eyes swept the ground and the walls for any inconsistencies, any anomalies, while his ears strained once more for the sound of movement. It was lucky he did; about half way up, he noticed that one of the stairs was taller than the others. Usually, this wouldn’t make too much of a difference, as no construction was perfect, but there was something about this step that made him pause. Gingerly, he stepped over it, putting his weight on the step above.
Nothing happened.
Releasing his breath, Dian continued on. *It could have been nothing*, he thought. *Or it could have blown up in my face*.
At the top of the stairs was a hexagonal room. *Not the library, naturally*, Dian noted. Tapestries hung from the walls, bright and colourful patterns. A glistening suit of armour stood at attention atop the deep purple of the carpet. Three of the walls had heavy wooden doors, the solid steel hinges reflecting the light from the six or so lit sconces. A framed picture hung on one of the other walls. Dian stared at it.
It showed what appeared to be a female figure, dressed in a long, well cut, red robe that was trimmed and worked through with golden designs. She had long white hair that turned a pale blue at the tips, decorated with delicate silver chains and small bells. Her pale blue eyes were intelligent above high cheekbones, her chin raised almost arrogantly, and her ears were pointed and swept. A stunning woman for sure, but an elf. No clue as to how old one like that could be, despite the fact she looked of a similar age to Dian, and he knew their folk took to magic in the crib. Dangerous.
Dian licked his lips, a moment of indecision. He really should head back, return when he was more prepared to deal with an elven mage.
The suit of armour moved.
Dian saw it from the corner of his eye, and well-honed reflexes had him diving aside as a steel gauntlet passed through the space he had just occupied. He rolled with the dive, twisting and coming up into a crouch to face the thing. The hilt of a dagger fit his hand, raised defensively.
The armour moved towards him, stutteringly unnatural, but as fast as a man. Both hands reached forward, fingers apart, grabbing. Dian leapt, forward this time, closing the distance between him and the magically animated construct in a matter of seconds. The blade in his hand flashed. Steel scraped on steel, sparks flying.
He rolled to his feet again, turning. The armour turned again, and he saw the scratch he had left on its chest. A hand reached for him, and he dodged aside again, but not fast enough this time. The other hand connected in a fist, crunching against his sternum. Dian staggered back, sucking in wind. His chest burned with pain, each breath struggling.
The armour came on, arms lashing towards him. Dian scrambled back, fighting to regain his air, and his back crashed against one of the walls. He glanced up to see he was directly beneath the portrait, then looked back in time to see the armour throw another fist at him. Dian ducked, and the fist hit the wall with a deep and resounding echo. He exploded forwards, point of his dagger thrusting. It scraped off the armour again, seemingly with no effect.
Dian spun, seeing the back of the armour as it began to twist to face him. He leapt forward, wrapping one arm around the place where the thing’s neck should be, wrapping his legs around the armour’s waist. With his free hand, Dian stabbed down with the dagger, piercing between two sections where the collar met the helm. He grunted, then twisted the hilt of his dagger. There was a moment of resistance, then the metal helm of the armour popped off.
“Yes,” cried Dian, seeing the empty space where the head should be.
Then the arm of the armour reached up and grabbed him by the scruff. Before he could react, Dian found himself flying through the air, thrown by the animated protector. He had a second to register this before he collided full force against one of the wooden doors with a meaty thud. He slid down it, landing in a rough pile at its base.
Blinking furiously to correct his blurring vision, Dian scrambled to his feet, dancing away from furious metal fists. Moving fast, he slipped his pack off one shoulder, tossing it into a corner, then rolled under another solid fist. Dian moved left, then darted right as the animated armoured sentry took the bait, and lunged for his pack. He delved inside, pulling free the long metal crowbar.
The armour came on, and Dian flung himself forward to meet it. The point of the crowbar connected with a joint under the arm, and he tugged hard. There was a pop, and the arm came free, clattering onto the carpeted floor. It gave a stutter, then lay still.
*One down*, Dian thought.
The other hand of the thing caught him across the cheek. Dian went down, pain blossoming on the side of his face, stars flashing behind his eyes. Somehow, he retained the wherewithal to roll aside as the fist slammed into the ground where he had been. Shaking back the stars and the ringing in his head, Dian came up into a crouch again. Quick as a flash, he darted forward, the point of the crowbar aimed for the other arm. But the armour twisted, and metal scraped on metal again, failing to find purchase.
He ducked another wild swing, this time jamming the crowbar into the knee joint. The lower half of the armour’s leg came free with a pop, and it teetered to one side. It crashed onto the ground with an ungodly clatter. Dian leapt on it, working fast, hands a blur as he removed arms and legs, then ripped the torso from its waist.
Silence descended on the small chamber, punctuated only by Dian’s ragged panting. Sweat clammied his forehead, dripping down his nose to plink on the motionless metal of the now disabled armour. The pain began to sink into him as his adrenaline faded, leaving his fingers trembling. His chest and cheek throbbed like twin suns. He was going to be sore in the morning.
Dian pushed himself to his feet and slipped the crowbar back into his pack, slinging it into place on his shoulders. Three doors lay before him, each one the mirror of the others. *Well*, he thought, *as Gerron used to say; always go left.*
He ran practised eyes and fingers across the seam of the door, ensuring there were no more nasty surprises in store for him. Satisfied the door was not triggered in some way, he turned the handle and eased it open.
Gentle mist spilled from the room, a wave of soft heat and wetness rolling over Dian. He stepped over the threshold, pulling the door closed carefully behind him. Moisture hung to long palm fronds as a warming layer of mist filled the room, making visibility limited. Dian inhaled, tasting rich aromas in the air; honey, jasmine, a dozen other calming scents. The floor was tiled here, damply slick.
Dain moved deeper, the mists swirling around his frame. Ahead, he could make out what sounded like splashing water. The air was definitely filled with warm moisture. Perhaps the water ahead was the source. He made his way down a small series of steps that seemed to ring the water source, until he saw it. A pool of water, steam rising from it.
There was movement in the pool. Dian slipped ghost-like to one of the large urns that contained a palm, pressing himself against it. His eyes emerged from the lip, observing the shape in the water.
A lithe humanoid figure swam through the water, defined muscles propelling it with ease. Mesmerised, Dian crept away from the urn. The creature swam on for more lengths, its skin pale in the sourceless light of this room. Finally, it reached the end of the clear water and rose. Long white hair that ended in blue tips was pushed over one shoulder, revealing a slender, pale back, curving down towards hips that remained under water. The creature ran the wet hair through its hands, drawing the water from the strands. Then it began to climb from the pool.
The female form reached the tiled floor, and Dian found his eyes following the shape of the naked flesh. Water ran in rivulets down the soft skin, over the hips and the curve of the buttocks, down long toned legs, to pool at bare feet. Despite the moisture that hung thick in the air, he found his mouth dry, and swallowed.
A slender arm reached for a plush red couch that stood a little way up from the edge of the pool, plucking up a soft blue silk robe. The robe wrapped across shoulders, draping the feminine figure. It turned, towards where Dian stood.
The front of the robe was still open. Dian’s eyes traced up, over thighs, across the soft down of pale silvery hair, up a toned stomach, following the shape of barely concealed breasts, and then along a long slender neck, until they finally settled on the elven features of the mistress of this tower.
There was no haughty expression now. Surprise was evident on the elf’s features. Then the eyebrows narrowed. One arm game up in a warding gesture, palm splayed, and Dian saw a silver chain around the wrist, connected to small silver rings on each delicate finger. There was a crackle of light from the silver.
Dian threw himself to the side as a blast of lightning exploded from the elf’s palm. It collided with the urn by his side, shattering it into a hundred shards that showered down on his prone frame. He rolled to his feet, as another long streak of electrical energy erupted from the mage. Dian launched himself back, slipping on his arse along the slick tiles.
“You dare!” The mage’s voice was firm, commanding. “You dare?”
“Sorry,” called Dian, as he skidded clear of a third blast of conjured lightning. It scored a long black smear on the floor. “So sorry, I’ll be going now. Again, very sorry to bother you.”
He scrambled for the door, feet skidding on damp tiles.
“You dare?” she demanded again, voice ringing.
Dian grabbed the door, flinging it open. There was a sucking sound behind him, then a loud whump. He cartwheeled through the air, flinging his body away from the point as a super-heated orb expanded in an explosion of fire. He collided with the floor, tumbling end over end. Dian scrambled once more to his feet, ripping and tearing at his now alight cloak. He dropped the ragged sections onto the ground where they smouldered in black ash.
In the room he had just left, he could see the shape of the elven mage striding through the swirling mists towards the door.
“Oh come on,” he breathed, more to himself than anything else. “Gimme a second here lady.”
Even as he spoke, three small red bolts of energy came spitting from the fog. Dian ducked, pushing himself towards the stairs. The bolts splashed against the stone walls, leaving black scorch patterns.
Dian leapt down the stairs, leaping over the potentially triggered step. “Bloody mages, bloody mages,” he muttered. His legs pumped as he raced towards the spiralling stairway at the far end of the laboratory. “Bloody mages!”
There was a flash of purplish energy ahead of him, and a seam appeared in mid-air. It opened outwards, into an arcane doorway. As Dian watched, the mage stepped through.
“Oh come on!” he exclaimed again, louder this time. He glanced around. There was nowhere to hide, no other way to escape. He needed to get passed the woman. Dian slipped his dagger from its place at his hip, feeling the heft of the hilt in his grip. The mage’s eyes locked on it, narrowed. There was an instant of hesitation.
Dian seized it. He raced forward, dodging and ducking as three more bolts of red arcane energy blasted towards him. He skidded under the last, keeping his momentum, then came up, the blade of his dagger seeking to press against her throat.
He wasn’t trying to kill her. Or even hurt her really. Just put her off balance enough that he could get by her. Maybe slow her enough that he could have a chance to escape. But the moment the dagger came close to her, there was another blast of arcane, a wave of magical energy that wrenched Dian from his feet and sent him careening through the air. He collided with one of the many shelves, glass vials and bottles shattering around him. Their contents splashed over him as he collapsed into a heap at the base of the shelf. Dian curled himself into a ball as the fragments rained around him, covering him. There was a thick musky scent in the air, and his head swam when he breathed it in. Dian opened his eyes, and they took a second to focus.
The mage strode towards him, the silk robe trailing behind her like a cape. Her figure was tight beneath it, and she moved with purpose, unaffected by her nudity. Dian, on the other hand, had no such immunity. He could feel his eyes trailing to the swell of her uncovered breasts, and there was a throb in his groin.
“What the hell?” he mumbled, shaking his head to try to clear the intrusive thoughts. What was she doing to him?
He reached for a bottle that had survived his impact with the shelf. As the mage neared, he reared back and threw it right at her. She raised an arm defensively, there was another flash of arcane, and the bottle shattered into smithereens. Whatever liquid was inside it, however, spayed out over her. She blinked a moment, glancing around at the new wet patches that now covered her skin and robe. She breathed in, and he saw her sway a moment. Confusion crossed her haughty elven features, and she rubbed a small part of the liquid onto the tips of her fingers before bringing them close to her nose. The mage sniffed, and her eyes narrowed.
“What…?” she began, before she swayed again. Dian pushed himself to his feet, using the now empty shelves for support. Staggered a few steps to the side, away from the shattered glass.
The mage lunged at him, pressing her forearm against his chest and smacking him hard against the shelf. The soothing scents of the pool room clung intoxicatingly to her.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “How did you get in here?”
Her eyes were furious, but there was something else in them. Something… else. Dian was acutely aware of how close her body was to his. Her bare leg was cocked, the thigh pressed against his side. He felt hardness forming in his groin, unbidden.
“I’m nobody,” he said, his voice shaking. His breath stuttered in his lungs. “Nobody important.”
The mage was breathing heavy, though not from any physical exertion. “You are going to tell me who you are,” she demanded. Her lips were plump. Dian wasn’t sure why he noticed that. “And then you are going to tell me how in the Nine Hells you got inside of my tower.”
Dian trembled. He could feel the beat of the mage’s heart against his chest. He locked eyes with her. “Why don’t you make me?” he said, voice a throaty growl.
She returned the growl. Then she craned her neck forward and pressed her lips hungrily against his.
Dian returned the kiss with equal force. Pure need flooded through him, a fire sparked into life by the elven mage. Her arm moved from his chest, wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him deeper into her. Dian slipped his hand down, hooking her bent thigh and pulling her close, their groins against each other.
*What is happening?* Some small part of Dian demanded answers. He ignored it.
Dian pressed both palms against the bare skin of her ass, lifting her up and spinning her around. Now it was the mage’s turn to be forced against the shelf. She let out a needy whine. One arm reached up and behind her, gripping the shelf. The other clawed at his dark hair, making a fist in the strands. Dian lowered his mouth, moving it along her jaw until he found the pulse point at her throat. Her skin was soft as silk. Pleasantly warm from her swim. She moaned again.
Her hands clawed at the straps of his leather armour, tugging at it, demanding. He moved back just far enough to allow her to release the straps and draw the leather up and off. His tunic followed suit. This time, it was the mage who kissed at his skin, her lips moving across the myriad of scars that littered his toned frame.
His cock was throbbing almost painfully now, pushing against her uncovered sex. She ground her hips, and Dian let out a growl of pure longing. Her hand reached up, fingers gripping hard against his black hair, and pulled his face forcefully away from her. She had a wide, toothy grin on her face, her eyes alight with desire. Then she kissed him again, her teeth closing on his bottom lip. He gave a soft gasp of pain as she reared back, tugging at the lip, then releasing him. His lip tingled, and he could feel the impression her teeth had left.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
“Yes,” she replied, her grin wider.
Together, they worked at the belt of his leather trousers, releasing them. She pushed him back enough to allow herself to kneel down, drawing them down to his ankles. His cock sprang free. A small bead formed at the tip. Then she rose, and pulled him back to kiss him again.
Dian stepped closer, into her space. He dropped a hand down, fingers finding the entrance to her pussy. It was slick already. Warm. Inviting. She muttered, rubbing herself against his fingers. She bit his lip once more, then let out a long sigh, voice vibrating. The mage tossed her head back, long white hair dancing, as Dian eased a finger inside her. Testing her.
“Yes,” she moaned.
*What is happening?* That part of Dian was asking questions again. It got ignored like the last time. All he knew was that he wanted her. Needed her.
His cock was hard, throbbing with that same need. He drew his finger from her, making her shudder. His grip closed gently on the shaft of his sex, and carefully, he guided it towards her entrance.
“Yes,” she sighed again as the head of his cock pressed against her. “Yes.”
She stretched around him. Accepting him. Dian pushed his hips forward, easing himself within her carefully. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him again. Her breath was laboured. His was the same.
Deeper and deeper. An inch at a time, Dian’s cock slid within her, her muscles clenching and pulling the thin skin delightfully taught. He shuddered. He filled her to the hilt.
“Gods,” he breathed. He slipped a hand down, hooking her by the back of one knee, pulling her leg up, opening her to him. His other hand grasped the smooth curve of her cheeks. Their foreheads pressed together, eyes locked. Her blue eyes were almost a dark grey, like a building storm.
Dian’s hips pulsed, back and forth, drawing himself in and out of her, blissfully steadily. The mage bit her own lip, pleasure clear on her flawless features. She cocked her hips to meet him, pressing herself fully around him. She began to moan in time with his gyrations, a deep and throaty rumble that made this cock throb. She pressed her face against his shoulder, arms vice like around him, holding on tight.
A blisteringly pleasant sensation flared in Dian’s groin, arcing through his hips. The mage’s pussy was equally hot, the slick muscled wall tugging at the skin of his shaft as he thrust inside her. She felt so good around him. Squeezing him. He panted, groaning from the delight of her firm grip around his shaft. The constant moans that bubbled from her throat were incredible; they spurred him on almost as much as his own pleasure.
Words bubbled out amongst her gasps and sighs of bliss. Elven, most probably, though Dian only knew a handful of words in that tongue. He picked out one phrase, which he was sure translated close enough to “Don’t stop,” to ensure he had no intention of slowing down.
Dian increased his pace, driving deep, powerful strokes into the mage’s wet pussy, each one eliciting a cry of pleasure from her stuttering throat. She was getting louder with each one, the sounds ripped from her without control. The friction of his cock as it drove solidly into her sent sparks of electricity arcing through him. His legs trembled, his own breath ragged and hoarse.
The mage clutched him tighter, pressing her chest and face as close to him as possible, as if trying to share the same space as him. The sounds were reaching a crescendo now, the pitch shifting higher and higher, until it broke into a long scream. Her body shook, her hips undulating spasmically.
Dian held himself against her, held himself hard within her, riding out her orgasm. The elf ground herself against his shaft, drawing out every last bit of bliss she could manage. Eventually, her thrashing subsided, and she trembled gently, pressing small, thankful kisses against his collarbone. Gingerly, she raised her head. She panted, a half smile on her fey like features, her eyes almost vibrating.
But Dian wasn’t finished. He scooped her up, and she let out a squeak of surprise. He crossed to the large table, before sliding his hardness from her hot pussy. She protested with a moan and a shudder. Unperturbed, Dian swept aside piles of the books and items, making them clatter onto the floor. Some of them cracked on impact.
“Oh yes,” said the elf. He grabbed her roughly, spun her around, and pressed her chest down onto the table. “Oh yes,” she said again, a throaty purr.
Her full ass pointed up, her legs apart. She trembled, looking back over her shoulder at him. Her long white hair fell in a pool on the table. The deep desire in her eyes hadn’t faded one bit. Dian moved himself into place behind her, grasping at his throbbing manhood. He steered it close, rubbing it up and down the slick entrance to her, coating it with her juices. She muttered again in anticipation.
Dian pushed himself within her again. Her pussy opened to allow him in, the muscles pulling tight the skin of his shaft, tugging deliciously at it. Fuck, she felt so good. He pushed until he was deep in her, as far inside her as he could go. She ground her hips, rubbing herself against his hardness, and gave a stuttering gasp of delight.
Taking a firm grip on both of her hips, Dian slowly drew back his shaft until only the head was within her. He could feel her muscles contract, trying to keep hold of him. Then, without warning, he drove himself forcefully into her.
“Fuck!” That came out in the Common tongue, a ripped word of equal parts surprise and pleasure.
Smiling to himself, Dian slowly withdrew. He waited a moment, allowing the anticipation to build. The elven mage moaned a protest. Then he slammed himself into her again, ripping yet another cry from her lungs.
He grunted from the pleasure it caused. But teasing her like this wasn’t enough. He needed more. He firmed his grip again, and began to fuck her. Hard, deep. He slammed himself into her with force, earning gasps of bliss with each one. He felt an ache begin in his balls, a tightness building. The mage’s hands reached for anything they could; one crushed into a fist around some loose paper, the other grabbed at the edge of the table and held on for dear life as Dian rammed himself into her.
“Harder,” she demanded. “Harder.”
Dian didn’t have to be told twice.
The sounds of them both echoed across the large laboratory chamber. Sweat beaded their frames. Dian’s heart hammered in his chest, his breath hot and staggered with each thrust he made into the mage. She shook beneath him. The ache was building, getting strong with each delightful push into her. Soon it overrode every other feeling, every other sensation, spreading an anticipatory warmth through every fibre of him.
With one last thrust, he slammed himself home into her, and let out a guttural cry. His cock sputtered, releasing itself inside her. Dian held himself there, as tight to the supple curve of her ass as possible. His whole body shook, knees threatening to give way.
As the white noise of his orgasm subsided, Dian pulled himself free. The mage gave a gentle moan as his softening cock slipped from within the warmth of her slick pussy. She slid down slowly, coming to rest on the floor, besides the table. Dian, his thighs still trembling, barely holding himself upright, eased himself down to sit nearby, his back pressed against the leg of the table.
They both panted, struggling to master their breathing. His heart still hammered, but began to slow. The strange haze he had felt, the odd stiffness in his head, was beginning to fade.
He looked over at the elf. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, a thousand miles away. Absently, she pulled the robe closed, concealing her humming flesh.
“What just happened?” he managed, after a moment. He had to repeat the question before she blinked in surprise, and looked over towards him.
“We had sex,” she replied, simply. “Don’t tell me that was your first time?”
“No,” he replied. Not his first time, but not far from it either. He pressed on. “But why? We were fighting, and then the next thing…” His voice trailed off.
The mage glanced over to the shelf they had partially destroyed. The serious expression was slowly returning to her features, the wild abandon and need fading with each passing second. “I keep all manner of potions and tonics here. You never know what you may need.”
He blinked at her. “So that was what? We both got hit by some kind of love potion.”
She shook her head. “Not a love potion. Think of it more as a… a lust potion. A pheromone. It gives you an overwhelming desire for someone.”
Dian’s eyes narrowed, and he turned her words over in his mind. “So you could just give that to two random people and they’d fuck each other’s brains out?”
“No,” she replied. “Not just any two people. There was to be…” She trailed off, and broke her haughty facade enough to lick her lips. “There has to be some sexual interest already there for the concoction to ignite into lust.”
“Oh,” he said. Then, “Oh!”, again, louder, as her meaning became clear to him. He looked at her. Unless he was mistaken, there was a faint touch of pink on the tips of her pointed elven ears.
The mage sighed, and pushed herself upright. She turned to face Dian. “Very well, let’s try this again.” She affixed him with a probing stare. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my tower?”
Dian swallowed. He rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. Then he began to tell her everything.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ijap6m/the_tower_mffantasylongunder_the_influence