First Strike
Copyright© 2025 by Nexii
Chapter 4: Fault Lines
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4: Fault Lines - An anthro snow leopard princess and an elven paladin clash in a duel, forge a winter treaty, and test how far trust can go behind closed doors. Slow erotic buildup, deeper character psychology, fur fetish and clothing themes.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian Fiction High Fantasy Furry BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Massage Petting Slow
Nexii gazed at the crimson sun going down in the west.
For a breath it felt like more than the forest watching her. Not just trees and distant towers, but something further out, waiting to see which way she would go.
She flexed her claws against the stone rail until the feeling passed. Nerves, nothing more.
I should have just gone that way. Over the sea to the west. This isn’t my game.
Freedom to live or die on her own accord. Finding her way to the source of the machines. Or to Nydia. Or to Valhalla. At least it wouldn’t be this waiting game.
“You left before they even finished the draft,” Offering said. Her voice was quiet, not rebuking, which somehow made it worse.
“There was nothing left I needed to hear,” Nexii answered. She kept her eyes on the treeline. “Grain here, steel there, one winter. They can put it into pretty words without me.”
“You were not listening at the end,” Offering said. “Because you were already walking somewhere else in your head.”
Nexii’s fingers tightened on the stone rail. “You get that from a few scratches in a table and some tapping claws.”
“I get that from watching people plan how they want to die,” Offering replied. “You have that look.”
“My people do not fear death,” Nexii snapped. “We plan for it. Glory in battle. Valhalla. You have heard our songs, you wear the steel. Do not pretend to be shocked.”
“I am not shocked,” Offering said. “I am not arguing with your songs. I am asking why you speak like a woman at the end of her story when you have barely had a chance to live one.”
Nexii breathed out hard through her nose. The sunset blurred for a second.
“You talk as if you knew my mother,” she said. “As if you watched her sail west.”
“I know what she did,” Offering answered. “She carved herself into legend by defending the kingdom, and then she birthed you. She went when there was nothing left to accomplish at home. You are trying to skip to her last chapter, Nexii.”
“You do not get to tell me what chapter I am in,” Nexii growled. “You did not grow up listening to stories of her. Gazing at the stone statues they built of her. The expectation to surpass her legacy.” Nexii’s face was grim. A legacy she’d chosen to endure from early childhood.
Offering was silent for a moment. The wind tugged at her cloak. When she spoke again, her voice had lost some of its formal smoothness.
“Your calling is not misguided,” she said. “I would not dare say that. I understand why it’s been your entire life.” She touched the Vanadian steel to make a point. “You are the ore, Nexii. Not the finished product. You deserve more than one winter defending caravans before a glorious death.”
Nexii hated the way that landed. It felt like pity. It felt like care. Both were intolerable.
“You just want a Vanadian to tame,” she said harshly. “A pretty snow cat to pull into your bed so your Sisters can whisper about it.”
“I want you alive,” Offering shot back, too quick. “If the only time you remember how to rest is when someone has you pinned, then yes, I want to be that someone.”
The words hit like a blow. Nexii could still feel phantom weight across her hips, wrists caught, that moment of strange ease before pride came roaring back. Her ears flattened.
“Don’t you dare hold me back,” she said. “I’m not another thing to add to your collection. You are not my Mistress.”
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