#elf mac

Over the centuries, artisans and mages alike left their mark on Mac’s chair. “Back when this city was nothing but stone foundations, I was getting around on carved crutches. They splintered every other week.” Their mouth quirks faintly at the memory. “Later, a blacksmith friend forged me a chair out of iron. Nearly weighed more than I did. It was loud and clumsy, but it rolled.” Oak frames replaced by iron, iron replaced by lighter alloys, and eventually, enchantments etched into the wheels and frame. Charms that steadied the ride, made the push smoother, and kept the materials from splintering or rusting. The chair they use now hums softly with that layered magic, a culmination of countless experiments and adjustments over thousands of years.

Their tattoos shimmer faintly with green and silver runes, glowing only when they channel magic. They favor enchantments over showy spells. It’s easier to weave magic into daily life than to storm into battlefields, though they do show off every once in a while. Thanks to Mac, your boots never wear down, and your lantern burns hours longer than it should.

Their hair falls long and dark, a silken curtain down their back. They can braid it themselves, but when you offer, they always turn with a soft, “If you’d like.” They sit perfectly still while your fingers work through the strands, only shifting when you guide them to tilt their heads, making it easier for you. They don’t even realize how intimate it feels until you laugh at one of their complaints about the last dungeon crawl, your breath brushing their neck. 

Romance, especially mortal romance, is still strange to them. Human love is fleeting and intense, while elves drift more like rivers. Mac struggles to see why you’d bind yourself to someone who might watch centuries pass. But then they catch themselves studying you anyway, the way your eyes crease when you laugh, the hum you give off when you cook. Once, they admitted it softly, almost embarrassed: “I suppose… finding someone who makes centuries feel shorter would be worth it.”

The flickering light of the candlestick a top of the wooden desk cast shadows on their skin. Still damp from bathing moments ago, dark locks dripping droplets onto their hunched shoulders. The muscles in Mac's back were tense, the concentration on their brow is not to be confused with concentration but rather restraint.

"Ah! Too m-much!" Their voice was low, almost embarrassed at how aroused they were, their hands gripping the fabric of the sheets underneath them. Their eyes almost squinted shut. Mac's body was so focused on restraining, to object to this foreign feeling from their gut, the feeling causing a stir between their thighs.

Your fingers worked steadily, in and out slowly, a torturous pace, dripping with their essence. Your digits are crystal clear with how much slick dripped down each knuckle. Your other hand, similarly stroked their length, the precum dripping down the edge of your hand and down your wrist. Slow, long strokes in your right, and slower thrust pumping into their cunt in your left.

But that was not the foreign feeling of having Mac squirm and gasp in your embrace. Their voice bounced against the walls when your teeth scraped their ears. Your teeth grazing the skin while kissing and licking along the shell of their ear.

The wet noises echoed in the cabin of their mind. Your tongue war rolls, caressing the skin along their ears, sucking at the sensitive skin, and teeth nibbling at the tips of their ears. Mac's hands moved from the sheets of the bed to your knees, their back leaned into your chest, unconsciously.

Their ears were so sensitive that they could hear your heartbeat, proudly beating in your chest, the sound that could put them to rest, but now along with their noises, moans, and choking gasps, your heartbeat stood out. "Huaah! Please...dearest...pleaseee don't tease!"

No amount of pleading or begging was going to rip your mouse away from them. Your tongue swirling around the tip of their ear, slurping loudly, so profane, it made Mac's cock throb in your hand. So undeniably hard, their cunt, squeezing, fluttering around your fingers. They didn't even notice your pumping and strokes stopped. Completely focused on their ears.

"Oh, Mac...you deserve a little reward, you constantly heal me all the time, find ways to make our journey much easier. This is the least I could do for you. My special and sweetest elf." Your voice carried a hint of your smile, your teeth tugging on the skin behind their ear. Mac's hands were shaking, goodness the feeling in their gut, the dizziness in their mind. The drunken feeling and oversensitivity was intoxicating.

Usually, they swore, they hated when you touched their ears, as a joke, accidentally, however now, their voice was undeniable in tune with their body. Their ear tilted back, eyes scrunched, their forehead damp from sweat, Mac swallowed hard. Their moans were raspy and broken, a whimper escapes them, their hands squeezing the meat of your thighs.

"Please ...gods...close...so close...Dearest...my...fuck!" Their body shivered, eyes snapping open with a chicken gasp. "Oooh." Their voice was broken, but the shuddering breath they released before crying out in pleasure is something you wanted burned into your mind. Mac's cock and cunt squirted, oozed their fluids along your hands. Their fingers dig into your thighs.

Mac's chest was heaving, your lips leave their ear with a wet pop sound. Their ear twitched, damp from your spit, sore from the small bites and nibbles. Such a shame, however, you slip from behind them, licking your fingers clean with a heavy groan. Mac's eyes open, their eyes drift to you, watching you remove any remaining articles of clothing. You sit between their legs and kiss their semihard cock, it thumping against their stomach from the aftershocks of their orgasm.

"I do believe, it was you who stated that if I were to test anything within magic, we should do more than one test. No?" You kissed the slightly fuzzy skin above their navel. Kissing a trail that follows the path of hair on their lower abdomen. Mac huffed but chuckled.

"What else do you wish for me to simulate or test? I can run anything based of any information and guidance you give me." They huffed, their voice was hoarse. But their eyes shined with interest and lust. A grin graced your lips.

"Your other ear should match, I think your entire body, any surface area of your skin should match...we have all night."

Imagine on top of this (already godsend btw) Mac fumbled the bag. You were flirting with them or telling them how badly you wished to be with them, and oops. They corrected your affections, rejecting you for the idea that their species lives for over thousands of years and the idea of them outliving you is too much to bear.

OR we go full frieren and Mac just thinks you're being friendly or would not possibly be in love with them. Now in the present with their current party, they reminisce a little.

Statues of you and Mac litter the country and the current human realm of life and time. Your face is plastered in stone everywhere they turn, silently reminding how long it's been. They, (unknowingly and unconsciously) mention you. Speaking about your strength and genuine appreciation for life.

"Ah, yes [Name] and I had problems similar to this, I even learned a spell to help aid in this exact scenario."

You know moon flower weed? (Himmel's flower from his hometown) And the ring he gives frieren? Same shit, Mac knows your favorite flower or plant and has it grown everywhere. The ring you gave them, happily stays on their person. Always. They nearly had a heart attack after washing their hands and it slipped off the side of the well.

Their staff/wand, has a piece of cloth wrapped around it, a scarf you used to wear. Mac keeps it there, using magic to keep it preserved.

-> But let's say they do resurrect you. Unfortunately, you are just a husk of a person. A living doll. No expression of emotion or care. Just existing. All of your muscle memory is there, but psychologically, you are not present. At all.

Your eyes have no shine, lifeless and soulless.

Just a few ideas to throw out...