otherworlderotic
“Oh my god, so I’m just totally getting off, going crazy on myself, and I’m just a few feet away while Laura goes down on him. She’s on her knees, and he’s big, and… oh it was just SO hot.” I'm splayed across the plush carpet of Ethan's modern apartment, a glass of rich red wine nearby, and a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of my lips. The weight of finals has finally lifted, leaving room for more... titillating conversations.
“Oh my god, that IS hot,” Ethan swirls the red wine around in his glass and gives me a look over the rim of the glass, “well, minus the ‘two girls’ part, of course.”
"Well, Laura and her boyfriend would certainly beg to differ. Especially considering how...enthusiastically he reacted," I say, eyes closed as I recall the vivid memory.
Ethan chuckles, the sound echoing around his chic, minimalist space. "You guys are on a whole new level of kinky. You're making me feel like a prude."
I lean up from the floor and make eye contact. “What, things not going well with Caleb?”
A warm smile spreads across his face. "Oh, we're having plenty of fun. Trust me, he’s good with his tongue… But we're not exactly venturing into group sex territory."
I giggle. “Hey, I’m not having group sex either! Just weird semi-voyeristic sex. I didn’t get to touch!” I pause, frowning. “But now Laura’s off to Paris, and she’s made it clear hands off the boy toy while she’s gone.” I sigh. “Back to the drawing board for getting my kicks.”
Ethan leans back on the couch, and gives me a smile. “I might not be into girls, but I am a man. And I think you’re overthinking it. Just go to a party, find some cute guy, and have fun. I guarantee you'll make his night. Or his year.”
I get up and join him on the couch. “I like the way you think. There’s a party this weekend, maybe I should just grab a guy and find a room…”
Ethan laughs, the sound filling the room. "If you can't pull that off, there's no hope for you. Worst-case scenario, just go in costume as a nude model. That'll definitely turn some heads. I speak from experience."
I narrow my eyes, considering his suggestion. "Do you think I could actually pull that off? Just wear nothing under a trench coat and ditch it when I get to the party..."
Ethan gives me a deadpan look. "Jo, you're certifiable. You need a spiritual cleanse or an exorcism or something."
His words draw a grin from me. "Well, you're the one who invited me over for The Great British Baking Show. That should be a pretty effective mood-killer, right?"
Ethan reaches for the remote and turns on Netflix. "Exactly. Let's get you purified with the wholesome power of posh breadmaking."
"But first, more wine," I interject, standing up to refill my glass.
≋ ≋ ≋
I walk home from Ethan’s place, feeling good, and for more reasons than just the wine. He’s just fun to be around, and he has this way of putting my problems into perspective without being judgy or dismissive. It’s nice, it feels mature. Is this what an adult friendship is supposed to be like?
I fumble with my keys and open the door to my dorm room, humming to myself. The only thing that would make this night better is Laura, but she’s betrayed me. Guh. Who runs off to Paris like that?
I swing the door open, and with it there’s an odd sound of crumpling paper. What’s this? I flip on the light and look down. A large white envelope has been slipped under the door. Strange. I pick it up, and flip it over. “To my one and only reader” is written on the front in immaculate handwriting. Heart-shaped stickers of various kinds are distributed around the words artfully. It’s ridiculously cute.
Smiling to myself, I shut the door and plop down on my bed, envelope in hand. I carefully open it, and extract several neat printed pages. On top there’s a handwritten note:
“Jo,
Thank you for your kind words and encouragement. I don’t think I would have continued without your unabashed enthusiasm. Please keep being you.
I’m looking forward to your thoughts on the story, and to seeing you again.
Your friend,
- Amy”
I’m smiling so wide that I feel like my face might split in half. She’s so cute!
Ok, it turns out there was another way this night could get better…
≋ ≋ ≋
The echoes of his passion with the woman - the fey creature - still whispered through his soul as he continued on his journey. His heart felt light, and was still humming with the taste of her. As he worked his way forward, out of the dark paths of the woodland labyrinth, he felt like he was still not fully a part of the real world.
But in a moment he was pulled back to reality. In the distance was an unmistakable sound: steel on steel. The sounds of battle, so unexpected in this place, instantly grounded him. In a moment he rushed towards the commotion, his pulse quickening, ice in his veins.
There, in a sun-dappled clearing, he came across something he didn’t expect. The thralls, with their ragged clothes, lurching movements, and burned out eyes weren’t a surprise. In these times, they were as expected as brigands. But the striking women with a cascade of fiery red hair was certainly a surprise. Even more surprising was the viciousness with which she fought with her two axes. Her eyes were fierce and wild as she lashed out at the latest to encroach upon her. She was certainly no easy prey for the thralls and their dark master.
The last remnants of self-preservation prevented the thralls from mindlessly piling on her. Yet despite her ferocity and the three ruined bodies on the forest floor, the sheer number of her assailants threatened to overwhelm her.
With an instinct that transcended thought, he drew his sword and plunged into the fray with a battle cry. The thralls shirked back at his advance, and her wild eyes snapped to him. However, instead of showing relief or even surprise, they simply narrowed.
“What are you doing?! Get the fuck away from me, I’m fine!” she shouted at him
In the time it took her to speak, he had crossed the clearing, deflected a rotting rake, and buried his blade in the neck of a thrall. He whirled around, his battle momentum lost as he processed her words while squaring up with her back to back. Thankfully, she settled into a battle posture behind him, despite her unwilling words.
“I… disagree?” he said, pressing his blade outward to fend off a thrall with a defensive stance.
She scoffed at him over her should and returned to the fight. They fought back to back, her two axes whirling, his blade moving in long, efficient arcs. No longer surrounded, her axes quickly found targets, and one by one the thralls fell, collapsing into ragged, broken heaps. Soon enough only the two warriors remained standing, panting and victorious, in the now quiet clearing.
With the last of the thralls fallen, he moved methodically from body to body. Each ruined body received his attention, his palms hovering just above their silent forms. A soft, warm light emitted from his hands, permeating the lifeless flesh and bone beneath. The thralls twitched, their bodies shuddering before an ethereal wisp of light escaped from their mouths. He whispered a silent prayer, wishing their next life would pass not in dark servitude.
From behind, he could hear her scoff, her boots crunching leaves as she paced the clearing. "Waste of time. Thralls is thralls, not people anymore. Rituals…" she muttered, her voice full of disdain. "And also, I was fine. You should have left me be. Didn't need your help." Despite the venom in her words, he could detect an underlying begrudging respect. Whether or not the respect was for his skill with blades or the releasing of the trapped souls, he could not tell.
He didn't respond immediately, focusing on the task at hand. The final thrall released of its burden, he rose to his feet and turned towards her. Her fiery hair was now disheveled, the sunlight catching the sweat on her brow, making her look as if she were aflame. Her breaths were heavy but steady, her chest rising and falling under her battered leather armor.
"I'm aware," he said finally, his voice calm and measured. "But it's not every day one stumbles upon a lone warrior, a woman no less, battling a horde of thralls."
She crossed her arms over her chest, her green eyes narrowing at him. "Thralls are on the road more than mud these days. You should know. And ‘woman no less’, what's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged, meeting her gaze. "Only that you're an anomaly. Most would have fled. But you stood your ground."
Her expression softened just a fraction, the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Don’t know what an anomaly is, but I didn't ask to be rescued. I can handle myself."
"Rescue?" He raised an eyebrow. "Fine, maybe I didn’t want to leave all the fun to you."
She gave him a blank look. Then, her laughter was sudden and unfettered, the sound echoing through the forest. It was wild and uncontrolled, just like her. In that moment, he felt a strange pull towards her, an intrigue that was as compelling as it was disconcerting.
The corners of his lips twitched upwards. Yes, she was definitely an anomaly. A beautiful, fiery, and somewhat crazy anomaly.
She stepped closer, her eyes flicking over him, across his face and his chest, then to his sheathed sword. "You're good with that," she said, her voice admiring. "Let’s go together."
He blinked at her, his eyebrows arching. "I hadn't asked to..."
Her look cut him off mid-sentence. It was an appraising, knowing gaze. A look that said she knew what he had not yet admitted to himself.
"Besides," she added, gesturing at their gore-splattered weapons and clothes. "I need someone to watch my back when I'm washing up. Let’s go find a stream." Then, without waiting for his response, she turned and stalked off through the forest.
He stood there, watching her retreating form. Her fiery hair flickered like a beacon amidst the greenery, her confident stride so at odds with their tranquil surroundings. His heart pounded in his chest.
After a moment of hesitation, he followed, his feet moving of their own accord. He was drawn to her, intrigued by her fire and fortitude. The forest swallowed them, their path lit by the dappled sunlight and her fiery hair, their journey ahead as mysterious and as alluring as the warrior herself.
≋ ≋ ≋
The bubbling stream was nestled into a natural sanctuary, the sunlight reflecting off its surface in playful sparkles. She had found it with an uncanny sense of direction, and wasted no time upon seeing it. Her battle-worn armor fell to the ground, followed by her undergarments, with an ease and casualness that surprised him.
Without a hint of embarrassment, she stepped into the clear, cool water, her fiery hair stark against her skin and the stream. She began to cleanse arms, the grime and gore of battle washing away with each stroke of her hands. Her movements were fluid, efficient, her focus solely on the task at hand. He watched her for a moment before averting his gaze in embarrassment.
She looked over her shoulder, light mockery on her face at his prudishness. "Are you just going to stand there, holy man, or are you going to join me?" She gestured towards the stream. "I could use some help with my back."
He hesitated, for a moment, looking down at his sword. She laughed at his discomfort, her laughter as clear and refreshing as the stream itself.
"Leave your sword close if you’re so scared. Then get out your other sword and get in here," she teased, her gaze flicking to the weapon at his side. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."
As he shed the layers of armor and padding, he felt the cool forest air against his bare skin, refreshing after the heat of battle. He took a moment to remember the last time he was this exposed. The delicate touch of the fey creature, her dark secret still etched into his memory. The contrast between that slow dance of intimacy and the casual comfort of this moment made his heart pound in his chest. But this was a different time, a different woman, and somehow, an entirely different him.
He stepped into the stream, the cool water rushing against his bare legs, making him gasp at the sudden chill in a way she hadn’t. His skin, flushed from the heat of the day and the dryness of sweat, relished in the coolness. He looked towards her, his gaze tracing the curve of her back, the fiery strands of her hair clinging to her skin.
She must have felt his gaze, for she turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, a silent challenge that made his breath hitch. She broke their gaze to look down at her body, her hand tracing a path down her neck, between her breasts, and further down her stomach.
"Come, wash my back," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She turned her back to him again, her body swaying subtly with the flow of the stream. The water traced paths down her skin, highlighting the contours of her body, the curve of her waist, the firmness of her buttocks. Her hands moved up to gather her hair, exposing the nape of her neck and the curve of her muscular shoulders.
As he reached her, he hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering over her body. Then, taking a deep breath, he placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch gentle yet firm.
His fingers traced the curve of her shoulders, his thumbs massaging the tense muscles underneath. His touch was met with a soft sigh from her, encouraging him to proceed. He moved his hands down her back, following the line of her spine, his fingers tracing circles on her skin.
The water from the stream allowed his hands to glide smoothly over her body. He could feel the heat of her skin beneath his hands, the firmness of her muscles. His fingers explored her body, washing away the grime and sweat from the day's battle.
He noticed the subtle shift in her muscles as she arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against his exploring hands. Another sigh escaped her lips, the sound lost in the babble of the stream, yet ringing loud in his ears. His fingers traced a path up and down her flank, feeling the warmth of her skin, the strength in her muscles until they rested at the dip of her lower back.
Suddenly, she arched her back, pushing her backside against him. The unexpected contact made him gasp. He could feel the firm roundness of her buttocks press against his erection, the heat of her body suddenly against his arousal. She moved in a deliberate, sensual slide across his cock that left no room for misunderstanding. Her backside arced in a slow, circular motion against him, the firmness and smoothness of her skin creating a tantalizing friction against his hardened length.
He could see her head tilt back, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she continued to move against him. Without thinking he moved his hands to her hips, holding her gently as she continued to grind against him. His breath hitched in his throat as she increased the pressure, her back arching as she leaned forward slightly.
One hand left her hip, moving to trace the curve of her back, the other remaining firmly in place, guiding her movements. His hand moved lower, over the swell of her buttocks, the feeling of her bare skin against his palm making his body react with raw primal desire. She responded by moving her hips in a circle against him, moving to her tiptoes to rub herself along the length of his erection.
He pulled back abruptly, the sudden chill of the water sobering as it replaced the heat of her body. She turned to face him, her green eyes sparkling with mischief and a challenge. She reached out, taking his hand and guiding it to her chest.
His breath hitched as his hand made contact with the soft swell of her breast. He could feel the firm peak press into his palm, and he ran his thumb across her nipple. For a moment, he allowed his hand to linger, the softness of her breast against the rough callouses on his palm. But then, with a sigh, he pulled away, his cheeks burning as he met her gaze.
She paused for a moment, holding eye contact. In his eyes she saw his reluctance, his conflicted desire. In response, she simply shrugged, a casualness in her movement that belied the intensity of the moment they shared.
"Your loss," she said, her voice light and teasing. Her eyes dropped to his groin, her gaze lingering on his erection. A smirk played on her lips as she stepped away from him and out of the stream, water cascading down her body in rivulets that glinted in the sunlight. “At least I know you’re interested.” She turned back, eyes glued on his cock for a moment before looking up at his face. “I should have known better than to expect one of your kind to be up for a casual lay.”
He watched as she left, the sight of her naked form seared into his mind. He was left in the cool water, his heart pounding, cock erect, the echo of her laughter and the memory of her body against his lingering in the air.
He began washing himself, methodically, frowning. He didn’t know why he stopped her. Perhaps the sight of the men’s skulls in the fey creature’s lake was too fresh. Or maybe the casual ease felt wrong after such an intense soul-sharing affair with a mythical creature.
He only knew one thing for sure: if she had pushed him any farther, he wouldn’t have been able to resist.
