otherworlderotic
The journey north was a test of endurance and willpower, the landscapes gradually changing from the familiar to the unknown. Bren and Adaric traversed through dense forests, crossed turbulent rivers, and scaled steep mountain paths. The chill of the impending winter was a constant companion, their breath visible in the cold air.
Throughout their journey, they found solace in each other's company. Bren had attached herself to Adaric’s mission, despite his continued insistence on secrecy as to their purpose. Their mutual enemy bound her to him. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, they could defeat many more enemies of the dark fighting as a pair than if they traveled alone. Besides, where a holy warrior went, he was likely to encounter the dark, a prospect that Bren found quite agreeable.
The nights were long and the days were hard, but their shared determination and certain other… physical pleasures… made the journey almost pleasant. They found comfort in shared meals, in the warmth of the campfire, and in the quiet conversations that stretched into the night.
In these moments of shared solitude, their relationship began to shift. It was subtle, a gradual change that was almost imperceptible. But it was there, in the way their eyes would meet across the campfire, in the way their hands would accidentally brush against each other, in the way their conversations would sometimes veer into the personal and intimate.
Bren found herself opening up to Adaric, sharing stories of her past, her dreams, her fears. And Adaric listened, his gaze steady, his responses thoughtful. He shared his own stories too, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet of the night.
For Bren, this was a bridge she had not crossed. Whether consciously or not, she had dismissed any prospect of connection, of romance. To drive herself the way she had, she had to quash that part of herself. And here was Adaric, with his maddeningly patient manner, his steel tempered with care, his open desire for her. It broke her down, made her vulnerable, and that fact hurt as much as it gave her something to live for.
Their physical closeness escalated too, their bodies gravitating towards each other as they slept, a comfort against the chill of the night. Their touches became more frequent, more intimate. A hand on a shoulder, a brush of fingers against an arm, a lingering gaze - each touch, each glance was a tacit acknowledgment of the growing attraction between them.
And then, in the stream of endless days of footfalls and hard tack, their journey was interrupted. It came suddenly and without warning, as these things always do.
One moment they were trudging through the dense woodland, the next moment they were surrounded by a group of men, their faces hidden behind crude masks of white fur that neither Bren nor Adaric could place. Their weapons were not forged from iron or steel, but made from bone, their crude construction capable of no less deadly potential.
Bren and Adaric reacted instinctively, experience leading to smoothly drawn blades and shed cloaks. Bren unhooked one of her axes from her belt, the weapon a comforting weight in her hand. In a moment they were back-to-back, steel glinting ominously in the waning light of the evening.
Their assailants didn't waste time with threats or demands. In silence they charged, their movements swift and coordinated. Bren threw her ax, her aim true. The weapon embedded itself in the chest of one of the attackers, the impact knocking him off his feet.
Simultaneously, Adaric moved, his sword a blur of motion. He cut down another masked warrior, his movements efficient and deadly. The man fell with a choked gasp, his weapon falling from his limp fingers, blood gurgling in his throat.
In moments, the group had been cut down from six to four. One of the group hesitated, eyes wide behind the mask. Adaric, sensing weakness, pointed his sword toward him in a menacing guard. In a split second, the man fled. The ambush was over as quickly as it had begun, those remaining choosing a route over death. They disappeared into the forest, leaving behind the bodies of their fallen comrades in the echo of their retreat.
Bren and Adaric stood back to back, their weapons still at the ready, their bodies tense. The entire encounter had passed in near silence. The only sounds now were their heavy breathing and the fading sound of leather soles crunching on snow from the retreating ambushers. Another confrontation survived, albeit a quick and savage one. Bren and Adaric wiped the blood from their weapons on the snow and sheathed them, their bodies still humming with adrenaline, their senses still alert for any sign of danger.
Adaric turned toward Bren to gauge her reaction. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the grimace of pain that twisted her features. His eyes quickly focused on her side where a dark stain was spreading across her clothing.
"Bren, wait," his voice was tight with concern as he moved toward her, his eyes never leaving the growing stain on her side.
"I'm fine," she protested, her voice strained. But her pale complexion and the pained expression on her face revealed the truth.
Adaric's blood turned to ice. He knew the danger of an untreated wound while on the march. Infections could set in quickly, and without proper care, a simple injury could turn fatal. He couldn't let that happen.
And then Bren collapsed into a heap on the snow.
Without a word, he scooped her up in his arms. She protested weakly, but he ignored her, his mind already racing with a plan. He needed to get to a high point, he had to - somewhere he could use the magics granted to him. The magic he should only use in an emergency…
With Bren cradled in his arms, Adaric started marching with purpose. His gaze was fixed on a nearby hill, its peak standing stark against the sky. The magic item required a high vantage point to channel its power.
"Hold on," he murmured to Bren, his voice low. "I've got you."
A sense of calm determination filled him. He would get Bren to safety, he would heal her. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, not when they had so much left to experience together. It didn’t matter the cost, it didn’t matter how it put his mission in jeopardy.
It took what felt like an eternity, but Adaric reached the small peak, his muscles straining. He set Bren down gently. After taking a moment to steady himself, he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small, unassuming stone. It was smooth to the touch, etched with ancient runes that glowed softly as he ran his thumb across them.
With a deep breath, he channeled a trickle of energy into the stone. A surge of magic pulsed through the air, the atmosphere around them shimmering as if distorted by heat. Then, as suddenly as it began, they were not on the hilltop anymore.
They were inside a small, windowless stone room. It was comfortably lit, a warm purple glow emanating from the walls themselves. There was a bed, oversized and inviting, with linens folded neatly at the foot. A small table held various provisions, and a shelf was stocked with clean bandages and ointments.
Bren was shocked out of her stupor by the transition. She looked around with wide eyes, her grimace of pain momentarily forgotten. "What sorcery is this?" she exclaimed, her voice echoing slightly in the room.
Adaric gently guided her toward the bed, sitting her on the edge, soiling the clean sheets with the blood from her wound. His hands were careful as he began to undo the buckles and straps that held on the leather that he had taken off her before. In moments he had undressed her, revealing the wound on her side. "It's not sorcery," he said, his voice steady despite the worry gnawing at him. "It's a boon, divine magic to aid me in my quest. It shall only work once."
He kept his gaze focused on her wound, his fingers gentle as he cleaned it with a damp cloth. It was a nasty gash, and he found his mouth running to take his mind off the horror he felt at seeing her skin parted so violently. "In here, I can channel my abilities better. We can take refuge, rest and heal, for as long as we need."
His explanation was met with silence. Bren watched him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and awe under the purple glow.
“This… I’ve heard of things like this only in stories…”
As Adaric carefully undressed Bren, he did his best to avoid causing her further pain. Her wound was raw and bleeding, the crimson contrasting against her pale skin. He reached for the linens and ointments, his movements methodical as he began to clean the wound.
Bren bit her lip to keep from crying out, her body rigid with pain. As Adaric applied the ointments and herbs, she had to grimace, her fingers clutching at the sheets beneath her.
"You must be important to be able to pull something fancy like this," she said, her voice strained.
Adaric shrugged, his focus still on dressing her wound. "My mission is important, not me," he replied, his voice devoid of any false modesty. He trickled divine energies into her side, fortifying the ointments with his spirit.
Bren laughed at that, a short, huffed sound that echoed in the stone room. "Important missions don't go to useless sods," she countered, her eyes meeting his.
Adaric didn't respond, choosing to continue treating her in silence. The energies of the room were doing their work, the flesh already beginning to knit together. His heart slowed as he gradually accepted that she would ultimately mend. Once he had finished dressing her wound, he placed his hands over the packed wound, his fingers just barely touching her skin. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, centering himself.
The room fell silent save for their shared breathing. Then, a soft purple glow began to emanate from his hands, the light warm and comforting. In turn, the glow in the walls dimmed slightly, pushing the room toward darkness. He channeled, his focus entirely on healing Bren. The fear, the blood, the mortal danger, it all receded. In its place, a sense of calm took root in the both.
"I...it already feels a lot better," Bren admitted, the tension in her body easing as the warmth from Adaric's hands seeped into her wound, the pain dulling noticeably.
"Good," Adaric said, his voice low but relieved. As she started to rise, he gently pressed her back down onto the bed. "You need rest."
Bren rolled her eyes, but complied, sinking back into the bed. Adaric moved to the side of the room, fetching a basin of fresh water and a clean cloth. He returned to her side, his movements careful and deliberate as he began to clean her.
He removed the rest of her clothes, his touch light. As he ran the damp cloth along her skin, washing away the dirt and grime of their journey, she shuddered. The sweet smell of the ointments mingled with a gentle floral scent infused in the soap. As she allowed him to tend to her naked body, she relaxed.
Adaric took his time, his hands gentle as they moved over her body. The cloth followed the contours of her muscles, tracing the lines of her form. He was methodical, ensuring every inch of her was clean. He was careful not to jar her wound, his touch light as he cleaned around the fresh bandages.
Bren watched him, her eyes half-closed, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. "That feels good," she murmured, her voice soft. As Adaric's hand moved up to clean her chest, his touch was gentle, almost reverent. The cloth traced the curves of her breasts, the damp fabric cool against her skin. As the soft cloth ran over her nipples, she felt her pulse quicken, her nipples hardening against his touch. Involuntarily, she took in a deep breath, pressing her breast into Adaric’s hand.
Slowly, his hands moved downwards, tracing the line of her stomach, moving to her legs. The cloth glided over her skin, following the muscle lines of her thighs, down to her calves, and back up again. As he ran it along the interior of her thigh, she spread her legs slightly. A hand ventured out, finding the tip of Adaric's trousers. Gently, almost teasingly, she stroked the outline of his member.
Adaric stopped suddenly, his hand between her thighs. He looked down at her on the bed, a bemused expression painted on his face. “Really, Bren? Now?”
“What do you mean, now? Look what you’re doing to me,” Bren's hand gripped him more firmly through his trousers, a clear indication of her intent. "You fixed me up mostly with that magic of yours. If you’re so worried about me, I’ll let you be gentle, for once," she whispered, her gaze locked onto his.
Adaric swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched as Bren's other hand moved down her body, her fingers tracing the contours of her form before settling between her thighs.
She ran a finger along her folds. He could see the pleasure flicker in her eyes, the way her body responded to her own touch. It was a sight that had him breathless, stiffening under her grip, the stimulation pulling him out of the post-adrenaline crash.
She went farther, spreading her folds, running her fingers in a lazy circle along her clit. Her back arched as she leaned back, eyes closed. But the motion caused her wound to shift, sending a jolt of pain through her. Involuntarily, her hand contracted around Adaric’s cock, hard and suddenly, causing him to yelp. He jumped back out of her grip.
Bren laughed, which caused her even more pain. She gasped, fighting back laughter mixed with pain. Adaric watched her from the other side of the room, baffled.
“Fuck, maybe not,” she said, once she had recovered. She gave him a rakish smile. Adaric threw the wet linens into the corner of the room, shaking his head at her. His lips gave way to a small smile.
“No amount of soap and water will clean your dirty mind,” he mumbled, straightening his trousers.
“Damn right,” Bren said.
With a sigh, Adaric moved to fetch a blanket from the foot of the bed. As he bent to cover Bren, she reached out, her fingers encircling his wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. He paused, glancing down at her, his eyebrows raised in question.
"Entertain me," she said, her voice a husky whisper. Her eyes were bright, full of mischief and lust.
Adaric blinked in confusion. "What?"
"My body is still humming, Adaric," she purred, her gaze trailing down his body. "I want to watch you."
Understanding dawned on him, but he still hesitated. "Bren..."
She cut him off with a wave of her hand, a smirk curling her lips. Then, she made a slow, deliberate stroking motion in the air with her free hand. "I can't take pleasure right now," she said, her gaze locked onto his. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't."
For a moment, Adaric could only stare at her in stunned silence. Then, he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "You're insatiable," he said, though there was no anger in his voice, only exasperation.
"Damn right," Bren repeated, releasing his wrist. She shifted slightly to make herself more comfortable, wincing as the movement pulled at her bandages.
He moved to sit at the end of the bed, his back to Bren, but he turned slightly so she could see him. He took a deep breath.
“Well, get on with it. Let me see how you get up to polishing the rod,”
He was already half-aroused, his body responding instinctively to Bren's heated gaze. “Fine then, but just for you,” he said, not truly wanting to admit the desire that coursed through him. Slowly, he began to undo the laces of his trousers. He glanced over his shoulder at Bren, meeting her expectant gaze. Her eyes were bright with anticipation.
With a small nod of encouragement from Bren, Adaric let his trousers fall to his thighs, revealing his arousal. It was a sight that made her whistle appreciatively, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she teased, reaching out to run her hand along his length. Her touch was light, her fingertips barely brushing against him, but the simple contact sent a shiver of pleasure through Adaric.
"Alright, holy man," she said, withdrawing her hand and giving him a nod. "Now, show me what you've got."
Adaric took a moment to steady his breathing, his gaze locked with Bren's. Then, slowly, he wrapped his hand around himself. He stood over her, running his hand along his length.
His movements were slow at first, tentative. He watched Bren's face. She nodded, her lips curling into a smirk as she ran a finger along her lips. It sent a thrill of excitement through him, and he found himself stroking faster. His hand moved over himself in a steady rhythm, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through his body.
He stood, his erect cock close to Bren, his hand pumping up and down the shaft. Bren began to run her hands over her own body, softly, her movements designed to arouse. She traced the curves of her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, her gaze never leaving his. He watched her greedily.
"That's it, Adaric," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "Don't hold back."
Emboldened by her words, Adaric picked up the pace, his strokes becoming faster and more urgent. He watched as Bren palmed her breasts, her fingers teasing her nipples.
With his free hand, he reached out to touch her. His fingers traced the line of her jaw, moving slowly towards her lips. Carefully, he traced her lower lip with his finger, watching as her tongue darted out to lick it.
Emboldened by her reaction, he pushed his finger further, slipping it past her lips and into her mouth. Bren hummed appreciatively, her tongue curling around his finger. The sensation was warm and wet as she slowly ran her tongue along the rough calluses of his finger.
She sucked gently, her tongue swirling around his finger in slow, deliberate circles. Each flick of her tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through him, and he couldn't help but groan. He continued his strokes with a renewed vigor, one hand on his cock, the other in her mouth.
As Bren continued to play with his finger, Adaric found his pleasure building quicker than before. His breath hitched in his throat, his body tensing in anticipation.
As his climax neared, Bren gave another command, voice muffled by his finger. "Come now for me, Adaric. Come on me."
The words were like a spark to tinder, sending him over the edge. He groaned, his body shuddering as he released onto her chest. "Bren," he gasped, his voice shaky.
"Yes, Adaric," she murmured, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Just like that, give it to me."
He rode out the waves of his orgasm, covering Bren’s breasts. Bren laughed in joy as he shuddered. She pulled him close, planting a kiss on his sensitive tip. Her chest glistened, as his release slowly dripped down her chiseled torso. He pulled back, sitting down suddenly at the foot of the bed beside her. Spent and panting, she gave him a satisfied smile.
"Good work, holy man," she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "I like the look on your face when you give in all the way."
Adaric slowly pulled himself back to reality, forcing his heavy limbs to move. He got up and went to a corner of the room, fetching a damp cloth. Bren watched him, a playful smile dancing on her lips.
"Who’s the dirty one now?" she said, her voice light. “Looks like you’ve made a mess.”
Adaric rolled his eyes, shaking his head at her words. "I suppose I have," he said, moving back toward her.
He took a moment to clean her chest, his touch gentle. His gaze lingered on her body, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. But as he looked closer, he noticed goosebumps prickling her skin. The room was cool, and despite the heat of their earlier activities, the chill of this otherworldly space was starting to set in.
Adaric moved to fetch a blanket from the foot of the bed. He spread it over her carefully, covering her naked body from the cool air. Once Bren was tucked in, Adaric moved to sit beside her on the bed. He looked at her for a long moment, taking in the sight of her under the blanket, her face flushed from excitement, her eyes bright.
Then, without really thinking about it, he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. It was a bold move, and he immediately regretted it as she stiffened under the sudden contact. But then, to Adaric's relief, she yielded, her lips softening against his. The kiss deepened, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
When he finally pulled back, he searched her face, looking for any sign of anger. But all he saw was a softness in her eyes, a vulnerability that she rarely showed.
Bren let out a small laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's new," she said, her voice a low whisper that was filled with warmth.
Adaric smiled at her, his hand reaching out to stroke her hair. But before he could touch her, she stopped him, her hand on his wrist. "Hold on, don't push it," she said, her voice stern.
Adaric pulled away, taken aback by her words. A little hurt, he dismounted and made to walk toward his clothes. She grabbed his arm, sitting up. She winced slightly, but looked at him earnestly.
"I liked it," she said, her voice raw. "I really did. Just… take it slow." Her words were simple, yet they held a world of meaning. Bren looked around the room, her gaze taking in the simple yet comfortable surroundings. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "For this." She gestured to the room, her hand making a sweeping motion.
Adaric nodded. "It was for a desperate moment, after all," he said, his voice light, attempting and failing to hide the seriousness of his words.
Bren fell silent, her mind working overtime as she processed his words. The room was supposed to be for him, a safe place in case things went wrong. And now she was in it, she had used it for a purpose it was never meant for. Her. Had she doomed his mission?
A sudden realization hit her, causing her to start. Why was she worried about the success of his mission? Since when did she care about his cause, his purpose?
Since when did she care about him?
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. This was not the time for such thoughts. It was never the time for such thoughts. These things weren’t for her.
But no matter how much she tried to deny it, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something had changed between them. Something withinin her.
