#fish writes

A moan begins to rumble up your throat and you force it back down, your body erupting with heat as a climax builds, your stifled moans escaping as pitiful whimpers. You throw your head back against Micahs shoulder, panting as you come down from the apex of your saddle-horn-induced pleasure. 

Micah slows baylock, his voice concerned as he questions you. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did-“ He stops as a residual wave of pleasure causes your hips to jerk and coaxes a proper moan from your throat. “Oh doll…” his voice is a whisper against your ear, hot and crooning. Overcome with adrenaline from the bar fight and body now reeling with heat you turn your head to face him, searching for his hand and guiding it to the budding wetness between your thighs. 

“Micah” you breath against his lips and a guttural sound, almost a snarl, rips out from him as he takes your lips in his with so much force your hand shoots up to his face, grasping at him both to stop you from tumbling off the saddle and to keep him pressed against you. But he doesn’t let you fall, his arms already tightly wrapped around your waist, holding you close. His strong hands snaking under your clothes and kneading at the burning flesh underneath as his lips take yours sloppily and with so much pent up need you wonder briefly just how long he’s wanted this.

But all thoughts evaporate the second a warm hand trails under the hem of your pants and finds the furnace between your legs, burning for him. Your mouth fills with heat and lips vibrate as you both moaned into each other, sinking into the other as you lose yourselves in a flurry of want and need and primal desire… his thumb deftly circles your clit, pressing into it slow and hard when he brought you too close too quickly, the pressure of his warm digit dragging out the waves of pleasure that wanted so desperately to crash, so close to the edge but never allowed to cross it. 

You could feel his own desire stiffening in his pants at your back, throbbing with every whimper and moan he coaxed from you with only a single finger. You knew he was a dexterous son of a bitch, but this? You never thought you’d be jealous of a gun before, but here you were, wishing you were the one holstered on his hip all hours of the day… that It was you he spent hours tending to, rubbing with oil and swinging theatrically around his finger. 

Micah whispered your name as his lips fell to your neck. Thumb still teasing your clit, he slipped two fingers inside of you and your hips hungrily thrust into them, wanting every inch of him there was to take. You hadn’t been aware of your surroundings, so wrapped up in his touch, that you didn’t even hear the approaching wagon until it was just a few yards away. Micah, likely aware of the approaching witness and just wholly unbothered, continued his work between your legs.

No longer wasting time with teasing, he gave you the full force of his dexterity, the speed and strength of his fingers unrelenting. His other hand found its way to your breasts and started toying with your nipple, already hard and aching. He was giving you everything, the overstimulation bordering on torturous as your mind struggled to process all the fireworks firing in your nerves. His lips and teeth on your ear was the last straw, the sound of your name rasping out between his moans your undoing. 

The wagon was upon you now, the sound of horse hoofs and rattling wood ambling past you. You couldn’t have looked at whoever passed if you wanted to, as a devastatingly powerful wave of pleasure finally crashed, ripping through you like a tsunami, destructive and relentless as it swallowed you up and you gave into it, drowned yourself in it. You couldn’t help the scream that burst out of you as the peak hit and you came crashing back down, body trembling with aftershocks.

Micah chuckled into your neck, lazily kissing the skin there, warm hands still firmly grasping your flesh, though their ministrations had ceased. Micah’s low, gravely voice wrapped around you as you started to regain awareness. “Well well…” His mustache tickled at your neck as he spoke, “that ain’t how I saw this night ending.” He said, the tone of his voice a low, seductive purr. “Ending?” You repeated, breathless and sounding more desperate than you really meant to, but the thought of that being it … the end.   

His lips curved into a smile against your skin. “If you want to keep at it darlin I’ll be the last person to stop ya.” He said with a laugh, peppering more kisses to your neck as his hands fell away from your body, taking up the reins once more. “But we should get off the road… or the horse, at least.” Your eyes shot open at the reminder of where you were. “Oh god did that person- did they see?” You asked, the mortification finally settling in. You’d never been one for PDA, never even gone so far as to kiss a lover in public past a quick peck on the cheek.

Vyncent didn’t really love the smell of medical supplies.

It was something that he wasn’t used too yet, a weird difference from back home when all he had to worry about was going to a nurse after a difficult mission. Now though, it was different.

The smell of new, clean supplies filled all of his senses- frankly making him dizzy where he sat on the medical chair. The paper crinkled from under him didn’t help with this sensory overload either..

But it was just what he had to do. Or, that’s what Bell said. Too make sure Vyncent can adjust to such a modern world, he said.

Speak of the devil, the door to this little doctor’s office swung open, and there stood the person he came to know as Bell. He had shaggy black hair with a chunk in the front dyed white, obviously trying to be hidden by the darker strands. His eyes were a brown, and had big circles under them.

It mostly just looked like the man was a tired doctor, but Vyncent knew better.

Bell smiled to see Vyncent already sitting, walking over and taking his own seat next to him “Vynce! It’s good to see you again, how have you been adjusting to the new world?”

Vyncent only could shrug, feeling his voice die in his throat. At the lack of response, Bell felt his smile drop slightly, pushing his chair away against a wall of tools.

“Nothin? Seriously, when will you learn that just talking to me really will get you so many places” Bell almost lazily leaned back, looking through a new things before grabbing an empty syringe and standing, tapping it slightly.

Vyncent stood his ground, trying to stare daggers at the man that stood infront of him. It would have worked on Fauna, where everyone knew him as a great, intimidating hero that fought dragons and Demi gods-

Not here though. The look made Bell giggle. Giggle.

Nothing more than that giggle left his mouth as he grabbed Vyncents arm- and frankly? Vynce couldn’t find the energy in him to fight back. It was apart of the schedule now, just another thing to tick off the list.

Bell hummed softly before, without much hesitation, stabbing the syringe into Vyncents arm- earning a hiss from the elf and a ‘tsk’ from bell.

“You’d really think you’d be used to this now, huh Vynce?” Bell smirked, a cocky ass smirk that only read one thing. He won. And he would continue to win.

And the only thing that Vyncent could do is sit and let his head swirl with the dizziness loosing his blood would give him.

Five figures sat around a bright fire. They were taller than any man, with coats of grey fur and a pair of curling black horns on each head. The woodspeople, those in the town called them, although there were other, worse names. He had never seen one before, but he’d heard the stories. Hush, mothers would say to unruly children, or the woodspeople will come and take you away. It was said that they were savage, no better than beasts; that they would kill travelers and hang their bodies from the trees. The five ended their song. He was about to draw quickly back into the forest when the smallest one caught sight of him and shouted. “Look! What is that?” it said curiously, in the manner of a child. “It’s all hairless like a new cub.”

The other four turned to see him. “That is a man,” one replied. “And not quite full-grown.”

The tallest of them rose and stepped toward him; he would have run, but he had no strength left. To his own shame, all at once he began to weep, finally undone by fear and hunger and weariness. The creature gazed at him with dark eyes. “Poor little one,” it said. “Come.”

A pair of strong yet terribly gentle arms lifted him and set him down by the fireside. He sat there too stunned to move or speak, too numb to think of anything but the warmth beginning to loosen the dayslong ache in his bones. Perhaps it was a trap, a lure to keep him from escaping, but he no longer cared. They kept silent around him until his weeping stilled. The one on his right, who had answered the child, brought out a leather flask from a pouch at its side. “This will better you.” He drank and found the taste sweet but poignant on his tongue, and his hunger eased. “Where are you from?” the creature asked.

“From the town to the west.”

“What led you here? Where are you journeying?”

“I—I don’t know.” He was unsure of what to say, no more wanting to give them the truth than to lie.

The tallest looked at him keenly, but its face was grave and sad, as if remembering what it did not wish to. “They cast you out,” it said. “I have seen others in these woods.”

Under the creature’s eye, he couldn’t deny it. The words choked in his throat, and he only nodded in answer. “But that’s cruel,” the child cried.

“There is much cruelty in this world.” The tallest sighed. “Stay at least the night with us. In the morning, we can set you on a path to the next town, if that is your intent.”

“You are very kind. They always said you were dangerous,” he faltered, before he knew what he was saying. He thought they might be angered, but another of the creatures shook its head.

“Men are determined to fear us, and so they do. We did not expect one of them to come so near.”

“I followed your voices. Please, what were you singing? It—it was beautiful.”

“It is an old song for the coming of the Light.”

“What is the Light?”

“Who is the Light,” said the tallest in surprise. “Little one, has no one ever told you?”