Author's note: As usual, no one under 18 should be reading this. This is the first fantasy erotic/romance story I've ever completed and am putting out to the (mature) public. As such, I'd appreciated any responses on whether I should continue writing this stuff, because I do think I have the beginnings of a saga here. ;) I hope you enjoy.
In low yellow light of the setting sun, the elven gardens glowed with twilight colors, like a dream. From the white boughs of trees hung yellow glowing lanterns, and the silver-green bushes swam with darting, shining fairies. A festival was being held. The sound of lutes, flutes and elven singing came from the plaza, and the cool autumn breeze carried the scent of fresh bread and other sweet pastries. Everywhere, elves milled, dancing, drinking or talking, dressed in their best. The elven kingdom was celebrating the coming of Fall.
On the main steps of the palace, Linara smiled. She looked down at herself, self-conscious, and smoothed down her midnight-blue gown. It was her best dress and was a gift from the elven princess, like all her other costumes. Three years ago she would never have expected to be dressed in such finery. But then, she'd been chosen as a Maiden, a companion to the Queen's daughter. Though she had been born into a lowly, human-tainted elven family, she was elevated and put into the midst of the elven court.
Linara descended the steps and walked slowly toward the plaza. She was aware when the elves she passed turned and stared. She should have been used to it, really, but it bothered her to feel like a stranger in her own homeland. The elves only accepted her because she'd been handpicked by the Queen.
She had no illusions about why she had been picked as Maiden, when they were never chosen from outside the nobility. They needed amusement in the court. The Queen had been nice about it, but Linara knew she was a freak among the Maids. Though not unattractive, Linara carried human blood within her--her grandmother had been raped by humans during the Great War--and Linara was thicker-boned and somewhat more voluptuous than most elves. She was still slim, but that fact did not matter among the waif-like elven court.
She kept her eyes out for a particular person in the festival. There was at least one other being in this kingdom, she knew, who had always felt as separated from the elves as she did. She had forgotten to check about the palace for him, to see if he was on duty today, but now she was almost at the plaza, and she didn't want to turn back yet.
The plaza was a wide, flat area on the other side of the gardens from the palace. It was paved with glittering stones, dark blue and white translucent mosaic pieces that formed a picture of the night sky with constellations. This evening, musicians and dancers occupied the floor. Tables of food and glasses lined one side of the plaza. A fountain of wine, carved out of ice and preserved with magic, stood in a corner. Linara grabbed a wineglass and filled it there. She then stood on the edges of the plaza, watching the revelry and sipping the sweet red wine. Occasionally she munched on a piece of pastry, but she was always watching the crowd for a particular face.
A light tap on the bare skin of her shoulder. Linara whirled around in indignation. A figure sidestepped from her view.
"What--" she started, but a hand snatched her wineglass neatly out of her hand. "Thank you. I was thirsty," said a deep voice rippling with laughter. Linara turned again, and her heart leapt into her mouth as she saw that it was the one she had sought. She glared up at Marran as he drank from her glass, his eyes sparkling over the rim. The glare was a facade; her insides were quaking from laughter and the familiar nervousness she always got around him.
"You torment me so," she said petulantly, though she couldn't help but start to smile. She watched as Marran drained her glass, and took the moment to take him in with her eyes. He was in his oiled, grey leather armor, the uniform of the palace guard. His human blood (also from a generation before, like hers) gave him a broader build than most male elves, and his armor helped accentuate his broad shoulders. The front of the leather armor was elaborately tooled with complicated, serpentine designs beloved of the elves. Linara knew it well from staring at his chest many a time, when she'd been unable to look at his face.
Marran was black-haired, a coloring as unusual as her wine-colored hair. His face was elfin enough, but it was also strong and serious, that is, when he wasn't laughing at Linara's surprise and indignation. It was an unusual face, but Linara found it handsome.
"You are in uniform.... Did you have duty?" Linara asked. Marran was walking toward the dessert table, but had clearly indicated that he wanted Linara to follow, since he was still holding her glass.
"Yes, but I'm off now," Marran threw back over his shoulder. Linara had to struggle to keep up with his long strides through the crowd. A few elves turned and stared, since Marran made a cutting figure, towering half a head over most of them. Linara only wished she could look as impressive a sight as he did, but had to settle for being stared at for being a freak.
"That's nice," she said lamely, realizing the pointlessness of her words just as she said them.
Marran had reached the table and only smiled at her. He grabbed some bread off the table and began stuffing himself with it. Linara waited impatiently as he ate, though she couldn't really tell why she felt this impatience. When Marran finished, he headed for the fountain, still holding her glass, and Linara followed him. He refilled the glass, drank some wine, and then wrinkled his brow, looking at the dancers.
Linara stared at him, then followed his gaze, and back again. Marran wasn't usually this distant. But he blinked, and suddenly saw her, and smiled, Linara thought, almost shyly.
"Would you like to dance, my lady?" he asked. His green eyes was centered on her face, disconcerting her a little. She jumped a little, then smiled back.
"Yes," she replied and took his offered hand. He set down the wineglass with the other, then put that hand on her slim waist. Linara almost forgot to listen for the music, so conscious was she of his touch. But then Marran was taking the lead, guiding her into the mid-paced dance that was meant for the light-hearted music currently playing. As she and Marran fell into the rhythm of it, she laughed at the gaiety of the music.
They danced for a few songs. It was during one of the slow ones that Marran spoke. His voice was low, meant only for Linara. Her head rested gently on the chest of his armor; the dance dictated it. But she was glad of it, for she could hear his heart and feel his warmth.
"Linara," he said, and Linara felt her pulse quicken. "Do you remember when we first met?"
Linara smiled. It had been the same festival a year ago, though both of them had known of each other long before that, gazing curiously at each other across the market, or the gardens, or in the palace. "Yes."
"I--" Linara, leaning agaist Marran's chest, felt him stumble and stop over the words. Even his dance became less sure. "I have something to give you." He stopped now, standing still in the midst of the dancers whirling about them. As Linara watched, he reached into a hidden pocket in his armor and drew out a small pouch. Out of that he drew a shiny silver object. Both of them stared at his hands. It was a ring, delicately wrought of tiny metal strands twined together like snakes in an unending loop.
It was an eternity ring, a form of elven declaration of eternal love.
"Do you not like it?" asked Marran's voice, edged with worry. Linara almost laughed, had she not felt so disconnected from her body all of a sudden. No one ever turned down an eternity ring, it was kept until its owner demanded it back, which was rare. If the receiver of the ring was not inclined to return the giver's love, the ring was simply not worn.
Linara really wanted to wear it.
"I like it," Linara heard herself say in a small voice. Her fingers trembled as she picked the ring up from his palm. It was so small, and perfect. It looked around the right size...and it was, she found, as Marran helped her put it on her ring finger. His hands were trembling as much as hers. She looked up at Marran, a head taller than her, and smiled tremulously. "I love it."
Marran's worried face broke into a breathtaking smile, and then he hugged her with childlike glee. He kept her close, even trying to return to the slow steps of the dance. Linara clung to him, incredulous but elated at his gift. She was unconscious of the floor, her feet and the crowd, aware only of his warmth, his strong arms and the smell of his leather armor. She felt Marran's lips on her forehead, giving her a short, chaste kiss. Linara suddenly felt a squeeze around her heart. Her grip on Marran tightened; she realized that she wanted a real kiss from him, wanted to give him a real kiss to do justice to his gift, but she didn't want to do here. Not here.
Marran felt Linara's grip around him tighten, and he looked at her quizzically. Was she objecting to his kiss on her forehead? But she had accepted his ring...and he could not help himself, she was beautiful beyond description. It upset him sometimes that she thought herself ugly. Her physical differences from other elven women, he was convinced, only made her more beautiful. Her body, normally so tantalizing to his eyes, was a pressing temptation against his body now. Only decorum kept him from holding her even closer, so that he could feel her body, so that she could feel the need she always aroused within him.
She was looking at him now, with an expression in her eyes he had not seen before. Her full lips were parted, lips that any elven woman would have killed to have, so red and round. Her eyes were bright and focused unwaveringly on his face, unusual for her.
"Let us go to the tree," she said.
Marran felt a start of surprise, and suppressed a smile. The tree was a private place, on a ledge above the huge valley of the elven kingdom. It was private because the way up there was somewhat taxing, but Marran loved it because it gave an excellent view of the city. It was his retreat away from the elves. He also loved to see Linara swoon and pant from the exertion of getting there.
For once, Linara was leading him, pulling insistently on his hand. He barely had time to grab two glasses of wine to take along. The way up to the ledge was faster than usual, because Linara didn't tire. Marran was amazed at her sudden burst of energy, wondering if she just needed to have a glass of wine more often. When they got to the tree, the sky was dark and the stars were appearing, their silver light echoing the yellow lanterns and lamps of the city below. Marran handed Linara the glasses of wine, still amazingly unspilled after the climb. From behind buttress root, Marran drew out an oil lamp and lit it. Their little spot was suffused with a soft yellow glow. He placed the lamp on the grass, then turned to Linara. She was beautiful in her midnight-blue gown shot through with silver threads. Her long, red hair was blown by the stronger breezes that blew at this height. She was panting only a little, and drinking more wine to recover from the climb.
Marran smiled at her and patted the huge smooth rock which pushed out of the earth between the buttress roots. The roots curved over and around the rock, like arms of a chair. Marran was sitting in the seat now, with his back to the trunk of the tree. There was plenty of space to seat two, even three, within the "arms," and Marran and Linara had sat there together often. She sank down beside him now, gulping at the wine. "Mine?" Marran asked teasingly, before she handed him his glass. He drank too, but more slowly, content to watch her. She finished her wine, and looked disappointed, even perturbed at the empty glass. She set it down on the grass slowly, then looked at Marran.
"I wanted to give you something too," she said, clearly and slowly, as if taking the effort to make it come out right. Carefully, she took his hand on hers, and placed the other on the side of his neck to guide his face to hers. Marran inhaled her flowery scent before jumping at the touch of her lips on his. She was kissing him, and his heart fairly sung out in joy and wanting. Forgetting his glass, he wrapped both arms around her soft figure and concentrated on tasting the wine on her lips.
Linara wanted the kiss to go forever, but she was already breathless. She hated herself for painting, for she knew Marran liked to laugh at her when she did so from exertion. (He was never mean enough to do it though, but just stared at her transfixed whenever she did.) But now his lips were so sweet and perfect, and his tongue was so gentle and insistent. Getting bolder, she licked at his lips as he was licking hers, even brushing her tongue against his. She felt this strange fire flare up in her heart, and she kissed Marran more insistently and passionately. She tasted his mouth with her tongue and drank deep of him, as if he was wine after a long taxing climb.
"My lady--" Marran gasped. He broke away for air, somewhat reluctantly. He'd have to learn how to do this and breathe. But now he was panting heavily like Linara usually was, and he laughed a little at the irony of it. His head swam. It was all he could do to hold on to her, to recover himself, to stay and enjoy this moment forever. "Good goddess," he gasped, surprised at how his exclamation had sounded like a moan.
Linara was as surprised as he. "I'm sorry," she started automatically.
"No," he said, smiling breathlessly. "I didn't...breathe.... That was my fault...it was...that was...was that your gift?"
Linara blushed, and Marran had to gasp, this time from her loveliness. As she nodded, he felt a warmth flood him, and he clasped her tightly to his chest. "Thank you," he breathed. He tried to tell himself to be happy with what she'd given him for now. It was certainly more than he'd expected so far.. A kiss. It was a kiss he could die for, a kiss he could live in forever....
"Oh, Lin..." He held her close and buried his face in her hair. This was the closest they'd ever been, the most that they had ever touched of each other. Marran felt giddy and drunk with her. He would be kept awake nights now just thinking of this moment, just thinking of when he could really show her his love. Already his trousers felt tight below his waist.
They were kissing again now, before his mind even registered how it happened. This time his kiss was as fierce as hers had been, and her mouth was soft, pliant and warm. Marran's pants only got more and more uncomfortable. He heard Linara moan softly, and the inarticulate sound sent his blood raging and head pounding with animal desire. He'd never felt anything so strongly before.
Linara wasn't even aware of her moaning. She was swimming in the new sensations aroused in her from being this close to Marran. His stiff grey armor felt delicious in her arms, and she wondered for a moment about the body beneath it. No doubt it would be muscular and as hard as his armor; she and the other Maidens had watched the guards from afar during their drills and exercises before, and on sweltering summer days, many of the males took their shirts off. She wondered for a moment if Marran would let her see his bare chest now, then smiled at the idea, unable to picture it. She would never have the courage to ask. Yet, her mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of worming her hands beneath his armor and feeling his warm, hard flesh beneath, and the thoughts both shocked and thrilled her. There was a burning warmth between her thighs, a feeling of wetness and excitement. She bit into Marran's lip involuntarily.
Marran felt a jolt of electricity run through him. They had to stop now, or he would lose control. But helplessly he was aware of the throbbing need between his legs, of his hips pressing against Linara's of their own volition. His body was completely turned to her now, pinning her to the rock, insinuating between her legs so closely that her dress formed almost no barrier at all. His armor felt tight, restricting, bothering. He wanted to feel her body with his, without the molded leather between them. But no...though he wanted this, she might not, and she was all that mattered. "Lin..."
"Marran," she gasped. Her voice was desperate. "I love you...I love you..."
Marran groaned again and tried to push himself away from her. Surely she had spoken purely out of lust or naivete, and he did not want to take such cruel advantage of either. He groaned again, turning his head away from her, but his nostrils were still filled with her scent, his body still pressed against hers. He breathed heavily, and said, pained, "We...have to stop. I will not do this...I won't tarnish your honor...out of my weakness." He couldn't look at her. "My lady, I love you, but it has to stop here." He pushed himself off of the rock, away from her, giving only a controlled, short glance at her beautifully tousled hair and disordered dress.
The expression on her face would have broken his heart, if he'd been looking. He heard her say, in a small yet steady voice, "When do you have to report back for guard duty?"
Marran looked at her, a little taken aback at the change in subject. "Tomorrow at noon." He tried to smile. "I got off duty tonight because only the soldiers with demerits had to work." He thought of sitting beside her again, but decided against it. He stood before her now, a little awkwardly, arms at his sides, almost as if he was standing at attention. He saw Linara's eyes run over his posture quickly, and almost thought he saw disappointment. But her face was now blank.
"I have up till midnight tonight to report to Mother Matron," she said. Marran was surprised to hear it; it was more generous than the Matron usually was--had ever been.
There was a silence. Then Marran heard the rustle of cloth. He kept his eyes fixed on the festival in the valley below.
"Guard," said Linara in an impossibly imperious voice. Marran started; she'd sounded exactly like a proud elven noble, one of the many who were always ordering him--the guards--around. Marran didn't think he'd ever heard Linara sound so firm. She's angry at me, he thought, and his heart was heavy with dread as he turned toward her.
Linara's dress looked different somehow. The tiny pearl buttons in the bodice had been unfastened, but not all the way. The sleeves hung off Linara's bare silken shoulders. Her skin, so temptingly exposed now, was flushed, but her face was expressionless. Marran had to force himself to keep his eyes off the swell of her breasts.
"Come here, guard."
Marran obeyed, could do nothing but obey. He walked to her, seated on the rock, and knelt before her on one knee, bowing his head in the traditional gesture of obeisance. It didn't matter that he wasn't on duty at the moment. He had to serve all from the court who ordered him to. But he suspected, that even if he hadn't, he would be following Linara's unexpected commands.
"Kiss me," she breathed. Marran started again, and lifted his eyes to hers. They were filled with love, longing and need, and inwardly Marran groaned as he felt the same feelings within himself flare up again with vengeance.
Her eyes about sparked with anger as he hesitated. Marran thought he had never loved her more before his moment. His arms were almost rough as he grabbed her desperately and kissed her with passion. He was astonished as he felt Linara responding in kind. Her hands gripped him close, then wandered over his body. They were not wandering without direction. They were reaching for the fastenings on his armor. "My lady," Marran gasped into the kiss, "are you sure?"
Linara nodded. "Strip, guard," she whispered, and Marran felt his protests and resolve completely melt away. She knew what she wanted. And he only wanted the same; it wouldn't be wrong. His fingers shook as he undid the clasps and fastenings and stripped the armor away. Beneath, he wore a loose white tunic and breeches. He removed his grey boots and lifted the tunic over his head. He glanced at Linara, and saw her gazing back at him with her lips parted, breathing fast. The night wind was cool on the flushed skin of his chest. His hands hesitated over his breeches; he wore little beneath them.
"All," said Linara, unmistakably meaning for him to take off all his clothes. Marran bowed his head, and stripped off the last of his clothing quickly.. His engorged erection, freed at last from his pants, sprung to attention, throbbing with the sweet pain of his need. His body trembled with nervousness, anticipation. He was kneeling before her again. He felt her hand reach shakily his, felt her pull him to her; he followed the pull until he knelt on both knees before her. But her hand was still leading his, inviting his fingers to the touch of her leg, the smooth skin of her calf, the unbelievable softness of her thigh. Their hands lifted the soft silk of her skirt as they traveled, at last, reaching to the hot, silken spot between her parted legs. She was dripping with need. Marran felt his fingers touch a warm slippery liquid, felt her flesh like the petals of a flower cupping a deep secret within. His fingers moved of their own volition now, as he explored the incredible heat and silken softness of her sex. A finger found her slit, and slipped within the passage, which was slick with excitement yet tight as a vise. Near the opening of her slit, his thumb found a small, hard button of flesh that elicted a low moan from Linara when he caressed it.
Marran looked up at Linara. Her eyes were almost glazed as she gazed back at him, breathing hard. Marran lifted her skirt until the cloth was above her waist and he could see the white flesh of her legs and her red bush of pubic hair just above her sex. He bent close and smelled the musk of her sex.. His hands wandered over her thighs, and reached around her to cup her shapely buttocks, pulling her hips toward the edge of the rock, where his lips and tongue waited. Gently, probingly, he flicked his tongue over her clit, between her labia, around her slit. He was rewarded by the sweet taste of her juices and the low keening moan of her pleasure. He continued his ministrations, sucking and licking at her clit, exploring her hole with his tongue as far as it would go. He barely felt Linara's hands wrapping around his head and holding him desperately to her.
What Linara wanted most was Marran's shaft inside her. The size of his cock had been astonishing to her, close to two inches in diameter and more than three times as long. Marran's finger inside her tight hole had felt delicious, and his tongue was driving her mad with pleasure. But she wanted him inside her now... Now. But she couldn't speak, gasping helplessly at the feeling of his flicking, silken tongue over her clit. She tightened her fingers in his hair. Thankfully, he stopped. "Now, Marran," Linara begged. "Please...now..." She reached for his cock.
Marran raised himself from his kneeling position. Gently, but urgently, he laid Linara back against the rock, her legs hanging over the edge, parted around him. He pressed the tip of his hard cock against the entrance to her hot, slick cunt. Leaning over her with his hands on the rock on both sides of her head, he pushed himself into her tight hole, feeling her flesh stretch around him and hold him lovingly. He almost came with the sensation. He moaned as he eased himself in slowly, until he had buried himself to the hilt. Beneath him, Linara moaned as he pushed into her. She gripped his tight ass with her hands and pulled him closer in, astonished at the feeling of being filled by him, of this new hunger she'd never experienced before. Slowly, Marran began to move. They stared into each others eyes, and saw the echoing wonder in the other's face. As Marran increased his tempo, pumping into her faster, Linara closed her eyes and gasped with the pleasure.
"Gods," breathed Marran. "Gods." He pushed into her tight, slick cunt, steadily increasing the pace of his strokes and gritting his teeth at the sensation. She was squeezing him with every move and breath she made. He could feel her juices running down their thighs, and still taste her on his lips. He almost wished he could taste and fuck her at once. She was gasping for air as he fucked her faster and harder, and he leaned down and kissed her deeply, and they tasted each other, panting into each other's mouths. Linara moaned helplessly as he pinned her beneath her thrusts, feeling himself nearing the edge.
"Lin, Lin...I'm going to come..." he said, and she nodded vaguely. He felt raise her legs to wrap them around him, and he nearly fainted from passion for her. Then he varied the angle of his stroke, and was rewarded as her body tensed around him, and a groan came from between her lips. Her cunt spasmed around his cock, and he pounded inside her faster from the new angle, groaning loudly now as she groaned with him, pumping faster, harder; as she came, her slick cunt tightened around him and brought him to orgasm, and he loosed his seed inside her as her juices ran down their legs.
The secret watcher pursed her lips as she watched the lovers hold each other lovingly after their happy exercise. She watched as they kissed, long and lingeringly, and as they pulled their clothing back on hesitantly, smiling giddily at one another. She watched as they held hands and and gazed at the stars.
"Princess," said Trisilim, the Queen's mage, "I really think we have seen enough." He had been saying that for a while now, ever since Linara and that guard had started getting physical. But Fionala, the princess, had forbade him from ending the spell that permitted them to see the people and places around the palace in the mage's crystal sphere. They stood in the Room of Casting, a round chamber in the palace high up in one of the palace's towers. The crystal sphere stood in a stand, of beautifully wrought silver, in the center of the room.
They had used the sphere and seeing spell to watch the Fall celebration in different parts of the kingdom. First, the square, where elves were dancing.. Then, the streets of the city, where elves were bustling from one party to another. Then the palace's own dining hall, where the servants were having their own festive dinner. Then the elven forests, where the rangers were playing their instruments in a hymn to the coming Autumn. Then, to the high ledges surrounding the valley of the elven city, where they could get a bird's eye view of the city in celebration. It was then that they saw two figures beneath a tree, seated on a rock that was like a couch. The figures were very close. Fionala, out of curiosity, had commanded Trisilim to take the viewpoint closer to the figures, because she thought she recognized one of them. She did. It was Linara, the ugly half-human Queen's Maid. With the guard who was also half-human, strange but somewhat handsome. Fionala had also seen him around the palace, but she'd never looked closely at him before. Now she did, and she hated to admit that she was extremely jealous of the half-human whore, Linara.
She'd been unable to take her eyes off the sphere. The princess was a virgin, and would be until she was properly married. She had heard rumors and allusions to what sex was supposed to be like, but she had never known anything for sure. It was something she and the other full-blooded elven Maids gossiped and giggled about. Then she had watched the two half-humans rut passoinately, and felt an answering lust within herself. She wanted the same. She wanted to part her legs for a strong male, for him to put his cock inside her and fuck her long and hard. She wanted the same pleasure Linara seemed to have gotten. She wanted Marran. And she hated Linara with all her heart.
Finally, the figures of Linara and her lover left the ledge, going back down the path to the valley. They left the scope of the crystal sphere. Trisilim looked at the princess, and saw her highness' face like ice. Trisilim felt it freeze his heart. She was biting her lip and her hands were clenched, and her eyes were far away and scheming.
"Princess?" he ventured carefully, but Fionala did not seem to hear. Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the Room of Casting, leaving a cold empty space behind her.