Tear's Desire

by Blind_Justice

Copyright© 2019 by Blind_Justice

Fantasy Sex Story: Before coming to the Surface, Tear and Arach were both priestesses of the Chaos Queen, mad goddess of the dark elven people. They gladly renounced their evil ways and live a happy life under the sun and moon, but sometimes, dark desires stir. When Tear finds a means to satisfy these urges, she indulges, oblivious to the consequences a single night of passion might have.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa   Consensual   Lesbian   Hermaphrodite   High Fantasy   Light Bond   Anal Sex   Oral Sex   Slow   Transformation   Violent   .

Author’s note:

This tale is loosely connected to the events described in “Leo and the Dragon” and “Shilana’s Trial” and occurs after “The Temptation of Gheeran”. Knowledge of these stories is not required, but those who have read them will catch all of the subtleties.

Only adults having sex here.

“You two certainly are not what I expected when I called for help,” Voron sneered. The necromancer rose from behind her desk, smoothing down her black robes. “I specifically asked for Leo, the paladin. No offense, but I prefer large men with large ... hammers.”

Arach put her fists onto her hips and leaned forward, trying to peek under the hood the necromancer wore to obscure her face. Only twin orbs of eldritch green fire gleamed where eyes were in a normal person’s face, framed by two wispy curtains of inky black hair cascading onto the necromancer’s breasts.

“Sorry to disappoint, but Leo is on a quest for the Storm Lords. He has sent us instead. Besides, what does a bone charmer want with a holy man anyway?” the dark elven priestess asked.

Tear, standing half a step behind her lover, placed a soothing hand on Arach’s shoulder. “Don’t rouse her anger,” she whispered. “She’s dangerous.”

The necromancer hissed. “There are only two things that irritate me, dark elf, and you just did one of them. Try to refrain from slandering my profession and listen up. Or do you prefer me to call you ‘spider-kissing sluts’ henceforth?”

“Forgive her, please,” Tear pleaded before Arach could spit another insult. “The heat outside makes her cranky. So, what can we do for you, now that Leo’s unavailable?”

“A simple matter, really,” Voron said, settling into her chair again. The armrests were made from a sickly white wood and resembled nothing more than skeletal arms, Tear noted. Or maybe they were made from bone.

The dark elven priestess shrugged. To each her own. Leo trusted this woman enough, so Tear was willing to at least listen to her proposal. Besides, chatting in a cool cellar beat the sweltering heat outside by a long shot.

“A rival necromancer, a bloody amateur, has settled into the crypts underneath the Old Cemetery and is happily animating the dead for his nefarious purposes. I would be most obliged if you could stop him from doing that. You really don’t want an army of the living dead to come over Storm Harbour, especially not now. Most of the Guard is torpid from the heat and believe me, you don’t want a horde of zombies rotting in the sun.”

“Why send for a paladin then? Isn’t that your domain? Putting the dead to their final rest and all?” Tear asked politely.

“Yes, it is and I ask this only because I have Storm Harbour’s best interests at heart. No one wants two necromancers duking it out in a cemetery, not even me. Besides, with all the holy smiting, you could make sure the dead stay dead once and for all.”

“We’ll have a full moon tonight. The Maiden will be strong,” Tear mused. “We’ll help.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” the necromancer promised, her green, pupil-less eyes flickering under her hood in a semblance of a wink.

“Spider-kissing slut?” Arach snarled while stripping down. “Who does she think she is?”

“For the time being, our boss. And don’t forget, you called her ‘bone charmer’ first, which isn’t all that nice.”

“I hate necromancers,” Arach complained, tucking a strand of errant white hair behind one pointed ear. “My stomach still heaves when I remember my own necromancy lessons at the Academy. And while we’re at it, I hate this weather! We dark elves were never meant to bake in the sun!”

“This is your tenth summer upon the Surface. By now you should be comfortable here,” Tear said, fanning herself with a slim book off her nightstand. She was already dressed and armored for the night’s expedition, a sleek grey bodysuit under a blackened chain shirt, icy white hair pulled into a practical ponytail.

“My dearest Tear, this is the worst summer in recent history! Even Shilana said she can’t remember when last it was this hot. Let’s skip this stupid quest, stay home and soak in a nice, cool tub.”

Tear looked her naked lover up and down. Arach was a slender dark elven woman, maybe a hand over five feet and weighing just above a hundred pounds, with small, firm breasts and a boyish behind. Her amber eyes twinkled mischievously as she placed Tear’s free hand onto her shaved sex. Smiling, Tear dipped a finger between Arach’s nether lips, withdrew it, then licked it clean. As usual, the young dark elf was aroused.

“A tasty proposal, my precious imp. But we made a promise, not only to Voron, but to Leo also. He asked us to help out while he’s out on a quest for the Storm Lords. Do you want to disappoint our paladin friend?”

“You’re no fun,” Arach pouted, turning around and grabbing a fresh loincloth off her side of the large bed. “Here I am, throwing myself at you...”

“One of us has to be the voice of reason in this house,” Tear said before erupting in a little laugh. “Just imagine what would happen if I started to behave like you.”

Arach flopped onto the bed, spread her legs, placed her hand onto her sex and threw Tear a scorching look.

“You know, I for one like the idea,” she purred. Arach inserted her middle finger into herself, slowly pumping that digit into her pussy.

Tear watched Arach through half-closed eyes. She dearly loved the irreverent young woman with all her heart, how carefree she was despite her brutal upbringing. The adventures they shared only had deepened that love.

Tear remembered the time when she was magically linked to Gheeran, the blind dark elven assassin. She could feel everything he touched, every bit of arousal he felt. Most of all, she remembered when Gheeran was “treated” in the apothecary of his hideout. He had fucked a nurse, into pussy and ass both, and to Tear it felt as if she was doing the deed. Even after several months, the memories, the feeling of spearing herself deep into tender flesh, gave her goosebumps.

Like Arach, Tear once had been a priestess of an evil deity called the Chaos Queen, the prime goddess of the dark elven pantheon. She granted their priestesses limited shape-shifting abilities, to sow chaos and punish those who deserved it. However, like most young dark elves with access to such powers, it was primarily used for sex. Tear shivered as she remembered the dormitories in the Academy. Senior priestesses came to prey upon their subordinates, oftentimes growing immense phalli to scare and intimidate those not yet able to shape shift themselves.

When she renounced her evil goddess, Tear lost access to all the spells she had been granted, and with it, the shape shifting magics. Usually, she didn’t mind getting rid of the vile incantations, but right now, she yearned for a magical cock of her own, to treat Arach to a little naughty surprise.

Arach moaned lustfully as her body shook in the throes of a mighty climax. Tear shook her head in wonder. No matter how often she and Arach went at it, Arach seemed insatiable.

“Enjoyed the show, love?” Arach panted, sitting up.

“Very much. Ready for our adventure now?”

Tear rose to her full height of six feet. She claimed her weapon, a long-hefted bastard sword, out of a stand next to the wardrobe. With a flick of the wrist, the silver chain wrapped around her forearm jingled merrily. The sword lit up as if moonlight washed over it and the weapon vanished. Tear checked the chain. A miniature version of the weapon, no longer than a finger, hung from the it, ready to be summoned by another shake of the wrist.

“I didn’t even get a kiss. What’s wrong?” Arach padded over to the washing table, poured a splash of water into it then used a soft cloth to rub herself down.

Tear stepped behind her and pressed her body into her lover’s back. Arach jumped as the cool chain links touched her bare back and behind. Tear’s deep blue eyes met Arach’s in the mirror hanging over the wash table as she cupped Arach’s breasts with both her hands.

“I’m thinking about our target, that necromancer Voron wants dead, that’s all,” Tear whispered, nibbling at Arach’s neck. “You know me.”

“I know, I know,” Arach sighed in defeat, flinging a handful of water over her shoulder. “Until that foe is vanquished, sex isn’t an option. Blah blah.”

“See it this way. The sooner you’re dressed, the sooner we’re at the cemetery and the sooner he’s dead. Afterwards, we’ll have a little victory celebration. How’s that sound?”

Arach turned in her lover’s embrace and snaked her arms around Tear’s neck. “Will you lick sweet wine off my breasts?” she asked with a devious grin.

“Anything you want, you rascal,” Tear purred, bowing her head and pressing her lips to Arach’s.

Tear’s sword came down in a vicious overhead strike. The blade connected with the necromancer’s skull, splitting it open like a rotting pumpkin. Vile liquids poured from the horrific wound as she yanked her weapon free. The magic holding his undead bones together evaporated like water on a hot summer’s day and the horribly mutilated corpse drifted to the floor in a cloud of grey, lifeless dust. As their lord fell, the bodies of his minions flooding the chamber did the same. The skeletons, quick and agile, were flung like rotting twigs to the ground and dispersed, clattering like so many dice carelessly thrown. The slower zombies just dropped where they stood, hitting the floor with the sound of wet sacks rupturing.

Arach, panting and covered with white bone dust, swiped her hand across her face. “Took you long enough, love,” she said, kicking a skull aside and sheathing her sword.

Tear shook dust off her blade and looked at the pile of rags in front of her. “Getting past his enchantments wasn’t that easy. Are you hurt?”

“Just a few scratches. These damn skeletons are worse than the snapperfish back home. Did I mention I hate undead?”

Tear’s laughter pealed through the crypt. “Yes, I think a hundred times since we embarked on this quest. And I can’t help wonder why.”

“A long story. And a sad one,” Arach said. “Maybe later. Why not have a quick look around before we go home?”

“Sure. It’s not like this necromancer has any need for his stuff anymore. And we can make sure to take care of any dangerous spell books before some daft fools come here, playing ‘Adventurers’”. Tear knelt down next to the necromancer’s remains. His body had dissolved into a heap of dust, leaving his possessions intact.

“Anything good?” Arach asked, handing Tear a linen sack.

“Not so greedy,” Tear said with a chuckle, tossing a few bits of dusty jewelry into the sack. “Nothing magical so far, apart from this.” She brandished a slender rod, made to look like a slightly curved spine with a skull attached. It was made from dark steel and the skull’s eye sockets were set with green gems.

“I bet Voron would love to get her claws on that thing,” Arach observed.

“Maybe. I’m of half a mind to bring this to the Shrine of Justice and have it disposed of there. It feels ... wrong in my hands.” Tear shivered and tossed the rod into the sack.

“He came from this tunnel,” Arach said, pointing down an archway leading out of the crypt. “I bet his quarters are that-a-way too.”

“Or maybe we have disturbed him while animating yet another batch,” Tear hazarded, then sniffed. “No smell of decay. Maybe you’re right.”

“Or maybe our noses have surrendered to this stench ages ago,” Arach said, drawing her blade. She crept into the tunnel. It was maybe five feet wide and long, narrow furrows were dug into the sides of the walls, barely large enough to house a corpse. Unsurprisingly, none were occupied any more. Just a few dozen feet down the tunnel, a thick wool curtain covered another archway. It looked rather new, quite at odds with the rest of the crypt.

Arach pushed the curtain aside with the tip of her blade, ready to dodge any traps she might set off by doing so. Soft candlelight greeted her, illuminating a cozy study. Two wooden coffins stood upright along one wall, their lids removed and wooden boards fitted in such a way as to turn them into makeshift shelves filled with scrolls and some books, simple, leatherbound tomes probably holding the necromancer’s notes. A single, square block of stone on one of the room’s short sides had been turned into a small altar. The by now well-known offering bowl to Lady Desire was prominently displayed and framed by thick, wax-encrusted candles. The inside of the bowl was still wet and Arach didn’t feel the need to inspect it any further. A spitting brazier sat in a corner, next to a crude table made from more stone blocks and the lid of a coffin. No bed, just an ornate throne, probably pilfered from one of the other mausoleums around. Arach reminded herself that an undead wouldn’t need the comfort a bed offered.

The curtain rustled as Tear slid into the room. “Nice. One could almost forget this is a tomb.” She strode towards the bookshelves. “Of course. Unlabelled.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out,” Arach said with a grin. “Toss all the books with gibberish into the fire bowl, keep the rest. Let’s not bother with the scrolls at all.”

“Good points. Let’s get to work.” Tear picked up an some of the tomes and began to leaf through them. She recognized the instructions for necromantic magic, the archaic runes and the imagery of skulls, bones and insects accompanying many spells. The wicked thing with necromancy was that the spells were hardly coded, so anyone with a smidge of talent and enough willpower could master it. Some necromancers were known to actively distribute these spell tomes to unsuspecting mages or leave them in plain sight for foolish adventurers to find.

“No big loss,” Tear hissed and tossed the book into the fire bowl. The flames roared hungrily as they devoured the book, leather bindings and all. Arach was also busy disposing of the scrolls. She tore them open, looked at the description and threw them into the fire. The smoke from the fire bowl pooled under the ceiling, but some drafts kept it from choking the room.

“So much dark knowledge,” Arach said with a shrug. “The world will be a better place without it.”

The next book on Tear’s pile stood out like a sore tooth. It was much smaller than the impressive spell tomes. Instead of the black leather bindings the others sported, it wasn’t wrapped at all. Two simple wooden covers held the pages shut, the corners adorned with brass furnishings. As with all the other books, neither author nor title were to be found anywhere.

Intrigued, Tear flipped the book open. The title page displayed only a few words, clearly written in the Common tongue.

The Book of Secret Wishes

Underneath, a large, complex rune caught the reader’s eye. Tear remembered her own time at the Dark Elven Academy and the traps evil spellcasters loved to put into their books, many of them rune-based. She tried to avert her gaze, but it was too late already. She had gazed at the rune, and suddenly she knew what she was holding in her hand and how it could bring her wildest dreams to life. Making sure Arach wasn’t watching she hid the book under her cloak.

Fragmented visions of her and Arach, entwined in a lover’s embrace and rocking their bed flooded her mind. It took all her willpower to not pull out the book again and use it immediately. Instead, she efficiently helped sort the dangerous books from those who could be sold for a bit of coin and made sure they left the necromancer’s lair as swiftly as possible.

“Why do I have to go sell the loot?” Arach asked with a pout. She squinted as the midday sun bathed her black skin in liquid gold and turned her hair into a white halo. “And why now? Can’t it wait a day or two? You promised me a victory celebration, remember?” She wiped her forehead, scowling at her sweaty fingers.

“You can give Voron the rod and curry some favor with her. If nothing else, it would be a welcome opportunity for you to apologize. And while you’re out on business, I’ll volunteer to clean the house and prepare the bedroom. How does that sound?” Tear hugged Arach close, sniffing at the bone dust crusting her neck. “And when you get back, we’ll start the festivities with a cool soak. Can’t wait to soap you up,” she whispered.

“Then I’ll be back before you know it,” Arach said with a fierce grin. She stood on tiptoes, wrapped both arms around her lover and kissed her hard on the lips. For a brief moment, their tongues dueled until Tear smacked Arach’s behind.

“Now off with you! What will the neighbors say?”

“Maybe ‘My, look at those beautiful, mysterious and exotic dark elf ladies’, and then Mr. Sharp-Blade’s wife will hit him with her frying pan because he drooled so much,” Arach said with a cheeky grin.

Tear groaned and gave Arach a gentle push.

Arach laughed and scampered off, exuberantly swaying her butt with each step. She pulled a cowl over her head to shield her sensitive eyes from the sun’s unforgiving brightness. Sighing softly, Tear slipped back into the house, closing the door behind her. She hated lying, especially to Arach, but she needed a bit of peace and quiet; a brief moment to weigh the options.

Tear pulled the Book of Secret Wishes from her backpack and placed it onto the kitchen table. Her fingertips touched the wooden covers and she shuddered as she felt the ancient energies emanating from the book. Tear, as a priestess of the Moon Maiden, was keenly aware what she was playing with. It had to be an item sacred to Lady Desire, and a powerful one at that. It was well-known that Desire granted every wish if you were willing to pay the price. What would be the price for a single night of uninhibited carnal pleasures like in the old days? What could possibly be the harm in that?

Steeling her resolve, Tear opened the book. The front page was as she had seen it last, with the title and the rune. The following pages were empty.

“It has to be here, somewhere,” Tear muttered, flipping through the pages until, near the middle of the book, she found it. A pen made from bronze, buffed to a dull sheen by hundreds of hands which had used it, fastened to the book’s spine by a golden chain. Near the writing tip, several rows of tiny holes had been drilled where one would hold it.

“I bet this will hurt,” Tear whispered, gingerly picking up the pen. She flipped back to the beginning of the book, taking a deep breath and set the pen to paper. With a silken hiss, thorns slid from the holes and embedded themselves into her fingers, drawing blood. Tear cursed under her breath at the pain but refused to let go of the pen. She noticed the item sucking at the wounds in her fingers, seemingly filling itself with her blood.

In carmine letters she wrote:

All I wish for, is to pleasure my lover for one night in all the ways barred from us.

Wincing, Tear put the pen down and sucked at her aching fingertips. She didn’t dare to invoke a healing spell yet, for fear of disrupting the ritual. A ritual it was, there was hardly a doubt. She wondered if it was about time to ask her High Priestess and her goddess for forgiveness, since this was the second time already where she had invoked the name of beings other than the Moon Maiden. First she had used a secret Blood Oath of the Chaos Queen to bind Gheeran to her, back when she wasn’t sure if he could be trusted. And now she was meddling with- Wait. Did the pen just move?

Yes. There was no mistaking it. Shaking unsteadily, the pen righted itself. Then, using the remains of Tears blood, it hissed over the page, leaving words behind. Written in a delicate, feminine script, they said:

I hereby grant your wish. Make full use of this night, for you’ll never know how long your happiness may last.

Tear managed to read the words just before the book shut itself and vanished, leaving traces of a sickly sweet smell behind. Now sure there was no one else listening in, she whispered the soft words of a healing spell, caressing her mauled fingertips.

Nothing happened.

The gentle swirl of greenish energy didn’t envelop her fingers. In fact, there wasn’t the slightest hint of divine energy coursing through her body. Suddenly very sober, Tear padded through the kitchen and opened a cupboard, claiming a healing potion stashed there for emergencies. She uncorked the small phial and tossed back the bitter liquid, sighing in relief as her hand healed.

It appeared as if the Moon Maiden was indeed punishing her for wooing another deity. Tear hoped that once the night was through, the Moon Maiden would forgive her. She was ready and willing to atone for her sins, as long as this night, this special night would be hers and Arach’s.

Slowly she went into the bedroom and slipped out of her clothes. The words of the spell, spoken in the sibilant tongue of the Burning Pits, easily came back to her, and the gestures, nay, the teasing of her most sensitive parts was the most pleasant a dark elven spell could ever be. To her utter dismay though, there were no divine energies grasping her in their throes, no sensual shivering as a higher power answered her whispered beckons.

“What am I missing here?” Tear asked herself, standing naked in the middle of the bedroom. She felt utterly stupid all of a sudden. Maybe the book hadn’t been the genuine article. Maybe it was all just a divine practical joke. Or...

She sped to the shuttered window and cracked it open. The thick wooden shutters kept the insides of the house relatively cool. When Tear poked her head out of the window, the scorching afternoon heat hit her like a padded mace. The sun stung her sensitive eyes as it hung still way above the horizon.

Maybe Desire was very literal. Maybe her ... gift only worked at night, as Tear had asked. You’re a priestess. Interpreting a deity’s will is what you do. But why is it so bloody difficult? Tear thought. But sitting here and complaining won’t get anything accomplished.

She used the water pitcher to splash a bit of water onto her midnight-black skin, sighing in pleasure as the cool droplets seeped down her body, then she put on one of the silvery robes those of her faith loved for casual moments and busied herself cleaning up the house. When she was done sweeping, she used the well in the yard behind their house, hauling bucketfuls of water to fill the large bronze tub they had, one of the few bits of decadence Tear and Arach allowed themselves. Using a pair of tongs, Tear dug a few enchanted rocks out of a box and tossed them into the tub. Those rocks were imbued with the properties of elemental Cold, strong enough to chill everything they touched. She smiled fondly as she poured bucket after bucket into the tub, remembering when their battle companion Zentam had gifted them these stones, along with another pair which always glowed with the fires of elemental Heat. They made getting their bath water to a pleasant temperatures a breeze.

She was almost done, pouring a helping of scents into the water when she heard the door open.

“I’m home!” Arach called, kicking the door closed with the heel of her boot.

“In here,” Tear said, loud enough for her lover to hear. She heard Arach drop something onto the kitchen table, then the younger dark elf was in the bathroom, struggling out of her blackened chain shirt. She sniffed appreciatively, then dropped the armor onto a stool in the corner.

“Oh, dark water lotus? Smells like a special occasion to me,” she purred, hugging Tear from behind. “Look, I bought something for us,” she added, spreading her fingers. Tear immediately saw it, a wide silver band encircled Arach’s middle finger, intricate runes etched into the metal. A bit of amber was the only other adornment.

“For us?” Tear asked, raising an eyebrow. “So far, I only see some expensive jewelry on your hand, my imp.” She turned around and shot her lover a curious look.

Arach rummaged in a belt pouch, then she pulled out a similar ring, this one in gold. Looking deep into Tear’s eyes, she slid the it over her lover’s ring finger, where it fit perfectly. It too had runes and also a gem set into it, this time a sliver of sapphire.

“Oh, it matches my eyes,” Tear whispered in overdone awe. “But why would you spend our loot on something like this?”

“You don’t like it?” Arach asked, looking crestfallen.

Tear shook her head, loose strands of hair going everywhere. “Heavens, no! It’s beautiful! But why?”

“Because I never said ‘thanks’, not even when you dragged me out of that tavern to save me from the mad townsfolk during my first day on the surface. And for helping me forget the Chaos Queen. And for being the best friend and lover ever. I love you, Tear.” The last few words she forced past a huge lump in her throat.

Tear wrapped Arach into a crushing hug and kissed her in a quick, heated flurry of tenderness. Her lips brushed Arach’s eyelids, nose, cheeks and finally her mouth, her wandering hands pulling at random strings and laces of Arach’s clothing.

“Hey, slow down,” Arach said with a giggle. “I’m sticky and gross.”

“I don’t care,” Tear snarled, intent on getting Arach out of her clothes. She wasn’t quite sure why, but that little gesture with the ring got to her. She knew she wouldn’t be content until Arach was naked, breast to breast with her.

“Just don’t tear at them too much, they’re my favorite,” Arach complained, pushing her sweaty gambeson off her body.

“Get naked already and I won’t have to yank at them,” Tear growled, surprised at her own ferocity. Finally Arach had shed her garments and stood naked in front of the tub, beads of sweat glistening on her black skin. Tear rushed in and hugged her close, grinding her sex onto Arach’s thigh. She claimed Arach’s lips with a hungry kiss, conquering her mouth with her tongue.

“Hmm, I love it when you’re this forceful,” Arach purred when their kiss broke, her hands going around Tears body and pulling her in tight by her butt cheeks. “Let’s get into the tub already, dearest.”

“Everything you wish, seriso,” Tear whispered.

Arach looked at her in wonder at the usage of dark elven language, especially the word for “lover”. Usually they spoke Common, even with each other, in an unspoken accord to leave their evil heritage behind.

Using the tongs, Tear plucked the elemental stones from the bathtub and slid in, a pleased moan escaping her lips as she submerged herself up to the neck in the chilled water. Arach clambered in after her, ending up with her back against Tear’s front, sitting between her lover’s thighs. Tear’s hands roamed over Arach’s body, caressing her breasts and her sex.

“I could get used to this,” Arach said with a wide grin. “Killing things, doing some errants, then coming home to find our house sparkling and my lover ready and willing.”

Tear splashed a handful of water into Arach’s face. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m the elder one around here.”

Arach craned her neck and kissed Tear on the nose. “I have nothing but love for you, revered elder.” She burst out laughing when Tear attacked her sides, tickling her.

Arach turned around so she sat on Tear’s lap and caught her lover’s hands with her own, placing them back onto her breast and sex respectively.

“Keep them there, please,” Arach whispered.

Tear’s fingertips caressed her lover’s shaved mound, causing Arach to sigh in pleasure. Arach’s hands wandered up Tear’s toned stomach until she could cup her breasts and kiss her nipples, alternating from one breast to the other. Tear closed her eyes and leaned in, kissing and licking at Arach’s neck. Her lips made sloppy sounds as they travelled over cool, wet, jet-black skin. Two of Tear’s fingers slithered between Arach’s nether lips, soft like ebony silk, caressing from her most sensitive spot all the way along her slit until they curled inwards, invading her lover. Hot, sticky warmth greeted her intruding digits.

“By the Chaos Queen’s floppy tits,” Arach softly cursed, rolling her hips forwards and impaling herself deeper onto Tear’s fingertips. “This is exactly what I need.”

“Like it?” Tear whispered. She nibbled her way up Arach’s neck, pushing a handful of her lover’s snow-white hair aside to tease her earlobe and then the distinct point of her ear. Arach wrapped her arms around Tear’s neck and pressed her breasts against her lover’s, rocking on Tear’s hand. She turned her head until she could intercept Tear’s lips with her own, kissing her hungrily, hot breath escaping from her nose in quick puffs. Tear kissed her back just as hard, moaning into Arach’s mouth as their tongues dueled.

With sparkling eyes, Arach broke the kiss. “Oh yes. But I would dearly love your tongue inside me,” she said, drawing out the last words as Tear pumped her fingers into her.

“I told you, everything for you. Stand up,” Tear ordered.

Hesitant to get away from those wonderful fingers, Arach did as she was told and stood. Water cascaded down her slender body; off the swell of her small breasts, past her taut stomach to her muscular legs. Tear grabbed a bit of soap from a wooden tray affixed to the bathtub’s rim, soaped up her hands then began to lather up her lover.

Arach writhed under Tear’s hands as they played with her breasts, not minding the callouses both of them sported from constant sword practice. To her, these were the most gentle hands anyone could have. She arched her back and pressed her firm breasts into Tear’s hands. Tear’s fingers pinched her nipples, eliciting a surprised gasp. Far too soon, Tear’s hands wandered lower. Arach moaned softly and used one of her own hands to caress herself.

“Spread your legs for me, love,” Tear said.

Arach slid her feet apart, careful not to lose her balance in the tub, and Tear’s soapy hands wandered up the insides of her legs, going slower the further up they went. Instead of homing onto Arach’s wet sex, Tear thoroughly lathered up her thighs.

Arach swayed her hips, trying to force Tear’s fingers to go where she wanted. Tear placed a playful kiss onto Arach’s stomach. “My, you’re desperate, huh,” she teased.

“Stop torturing me,” Arach begged, placing a hand onto her pussy.

Tear ‘tsk’ed and pulled it away. “No cheating, love.” With quick, yet gentle motions, Tear cleaned Arach’s pussy, making sure to pleasure her clit with her thumb while doing so. Arach’s sighs turned to moans. Tear stopped and submerged her hands into the water.

“Hey! I was getting close!” Arach protested, putting her hands on her hips.

“I know. Turn around.”

“I hope you’ll finish what you started. Otherwise I’ll take my arousal elsewhere. I heard Shilana would be curious,” Arach teased, turning around and wriggling her butt in Tear’s face.

Tear laughed merrily as she soaped up Arach’s shoulders. “Our fearless battle mage can’t resist our charms forever, is that what you’re implying? Or are you willing to mind-control her, risking death by thunderstorm once she comes to her senses?”

“When you say it like that, I think I’d better stick with you. You can’t resist me at all,” Arach said with a chuckle. “Hmmm. Play with my butt.” Using the wall for support, Arach leaned forward, thrusting her ass Tear’s way.

Her lover’s soapy hands kneaded her ass cheeks, even spread them to allow Tear to thoroughly soap up the crack. Her thumb teased Arach’s puckered rosebud, causing the bent-over dark elf to gasp in surprise.

“I’m a naughty, naughty dark elf,” Tear murmured, scooping handfuls of cool water over Arach’s derriere. Then she leaned in, spread Arach’s butt cheeks again and speared her tongue into Arach’s pussy from behind, attacking her lover for all she was worth.

Arach tossed her head back and let out a long, drawn-out moan of lust. Tear made sounds Arach had seldom heard from her, but the unladylike slurping only heightened her arousal. Before she knew it, she was uncontrollably bucking against Tear’s mouth and tongue, gasping air into her lungs. Tear added two fingers while she nibbled at Arach’s clit, pumping the wet digits slowly into her. Arach squealed in delight as she came, smothering Tear’s face with her pussy. Tear didn’t let up, only stopping when Arach’s knees gave out and she slid into the tub, panting heavily. Tear held her and caressed Arach’s wet hair.

“Now you,” Arach whispered, her hand crawling along Tear’s thigh.

Shaking her head, Tear intercepted Arach’s hand. “I’ll get my fill, after dinner.”

When they came out of the bathroom, Tear quickly opened a window and checked the time. To her dismay, the sun still was above the horizon, bathing Storm Harbour in an impressive shade of orange, turning the grey city into a majestic, glowing jewel. Behind her in the kitchen, she heard Arach humming a melody, a hymn praising the Moon Maiden. Suddenly feeling like a guilty thief, Tear closed her hand around her holy symbol. But the calm usually radiating from the simple silver disc wasn’t there. She clutched a lifeless piece of jewelry, and the implications doused her arousal worse than a bucket of ice water. Silently praying to every deity in earshot to forgive her, she closed the shutters again and joined Arach, who was frying two slices of steak. The heat from the stove only added to the sullen heat inside the house and Tear felt sweat bead on her skin, despite only wearing her airy robe.

“And here I thought you’d let me do all the cooking for our victory feast,” Arach said, flipping the steaks.

“You know me better than that,” Tear said, grabbing a dagger and some vegetables. “You’re doing great with the meat, let me whip up a salad.” She set to work, peeling the veggies with quick, practiced slices of the dagger.

Arach resumed her humming, absent-mindedly swaying to the tune. Her robe swirled around her thighs. Spellbound, Tear watched her little dance. Suddenly, a sharp pain yanked her out of her thoughts. Cursing, she looked at her hands. While chopping a carrot, the dagger had slipped and cut deeply into her finger.

“What happened?” Arach asked, wrapping an arm around Tear’s waist.

“Chopped my finger instead of the veggies,” Tear spat.

Arach took Tear’s bleeding hand into hers and hummed a soothing melody. Her holy symbol, a twin to Tear’s, hanging between her breasts, glinted as if moonlight was washing over it, then she breathed a kiss onto Tear’s bloody fingers.

Nothing happened. No gentle nimbus of healing energies.

“That’s odd,” Arach said, wrinkling her forehead. “Why are you not healing?”

“Uhh ... Maybe a side effect of the bathing stones?” Tear lied. “We should have another healing potion somewhere, right?”

“Don’t move, I’ll get it.” Shooting her lover a concerned look, Arach zipped into the bedroom. Tear heard her rummage through their adventuring gear, then, a small triumphant “Ah-ha!” as she found the potion. With a few quick strides, Arach was back, uncorking the phial as she went.

“Here, have this,” she said, brandishing the potion. Tear, hand shaking slightly, took the offered item and drank it, scowling as the bitter liquid oozed down her throat. She felt the skin knit.

“Thank you,” she breathed, rising. “Let me wash my hands.” Tear sniffed. “And watch the meat!” On shaky legs, Tear walked into the bedroom and used the wash table there to clean the blood away. Why in the Burning Pits did she lie to Arach?

I must be going completely mad, she thought. Am I doing this just to surprise her? We promised each other to never have any secrets, damn it! This is turning into a nightmare! She knew full well why Arach’s spell hadn’t worked. She had fallen from grace and the Moon Maiden reminded her of it, painfully so. Until she atoned for her sin, she would refuse any and all divine aid.

Thoroughly sobered up, she slinked back into the kitchen where Arach was laying the table. The steaks smelled delicious and Arach even had managed to salvage the salad. She placed a basket with roast bread between their plates and wine flutes and looked up, nothing but burning love for Tear in her eyes.

“Come, let’s eat,” the younger dark elf said, gesturing at the table. Tear fought a huge lump in her throat and stealthily swabbed at the corners of her eyes when Arach was busy digging around in their wine cabinet. She wanted to cry her eyes out, confess everything. A small, long-buried part of her reminded Tear that she still was a dark elven noble, a former priestess of the Chaos Queen, and a little heresy was hardly anything to spill tears over.

Thou shalt never show weakness, because perceived or real weakness is the first step in thine undoing.” Why was she reciting one of the many rules the Chaos Queen had imposed onto her followers? She needed to calm down.

“Arach,” she said.

“Hm?” Her lover looked at her over her shoulder, hand halfway up to a blackened bottle of wine made in the Depths.

“Tell me that story. Why do you hate necromancers?”

“Really? Now? I’m sure it will kill the mood completely,” Arach said, picking up the bottle. “You think this is appropriate?”

You have no idea how much, Tear thought.

“You asked for it,” Arach said with a grim smile, opening the bottle and pouring the fragrant, green wine into their glasses.

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