Reader & writer

Slowly, your inspecting would turn more and more invasive, you'd poke gently at the swell of her breasts with the cold end of a (well cleaned) metal pen, watching how her nipples hardened.

She'd make a show of struggling against her bindings and jingling loudly when you pull out your little bullet vibrator and place it ever so lightly on her tiny pussy. Despite her theatrical protests, you both knew this was her favourite part, if the puddle she left on your desk was anything to go by.  

Her other favourite roleplay was you being some kind of doll maker, forcing her into elaborate costumes and graceful positions like she was one of those porcelain fairy figurines, only far more provocative. 

You liked putting the tiny clothes on her, even while she fussed like she didn't want to. Eventually, you'd get fed up with her attitude and get out your yarn, forcing her into whatever position you wanted your figurine to be in. You even had one of those figurine holder things that you could tie her to and leave her on your livingroom table as decoration for when you had friends over.

The employees at the local sex shop and craft store both know your face because you have to ask them for special orders all the time.

You now have an elaborate collection of string, yarn, wool, rope, silk cloth, wooden sticks, a very specific set of pencils and pens she likes, a syringe and a custom ordered set of tiny dildos that look like erasers you stick on the end of pencils.

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of violence, smut, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral, simon is not a good or nice person (except to reader), reader also maybe isn't a good person who knows, reader has hair long enough to hold, curvy/plus-sized!reader, size difference, size kink, military inaccuracies, 18+

There is a special place in hell for men like Michael.

You can see her through the window by the door. Her big eyes are looking at where you are, paws against the glass. Her mouth opens, and she scratches at the window, and your bottom lip trembles as you set your hand down where she touches.

You could care less about the things you left inside. Your clothes, your bags, your shoes, even your fucking computer can stay behind, but not her. Your tabby cat is inside, sitting by the window, and Michael changed the fucking locks.

You bang on the door for an hour. You leave, come back, keep banging, but no one ever answers. You've never felt this desperate or uneasy, but every time you come back and see her by the window, you nearly lose all of your composure. It isn't fair. She doesn't belong to him. He can take years from you, take your money, take your sanity, but he won't take her. You'll come back every single day. You'll become a nuisance. You'll never let him relax. Until he gives her back to you, he will never know peace.

A single day passes before you decide it's time to take drastic measures.

The nearest military base is situated a good distance away, but not so far that you won't drive to its neighboring city. There's a small main road with a few local shops, including a few restaurants, a bookstore, a coffee shop, and the crown jewel—a pub.

It's just after supper time when you ring the bell above the door walking inside. On a Friday evening, it's lively, packed close with warmth and tall pints and plastic baskets full of chips and greasy fingerfoods.

There's a lot of military around here. You can tell by their haircuts and the way they chug their glasses; but you aren't looking for baby-faced rookies with too much pent-up aggression. You're looking for the meanest guy in the room, and that means someone with scars and someone who goes cloudy behind the eyes when you ask him how he's gotten back from where he's been.

That man is sitting at the far booth with his back to the wall. A place where he can have an eye on the rest of the room at all times. Big, gloved hand wrapped around a sweating glass, gaze focused on the foam of his beer as he pretends to listen to whatever the red-cheeked man across from him is laughing about.

You ask the bartender what they're drinking and order another round, picking up each glass and making your way towards their table. You'd be nervous if you weren't so determined. You stand awkwardly beside the table before his friend notices you there.

"Tha' fer us, bonnie?"

He juts his chin out at the drinks you're holding, and you set them down with a nervous smile.

"Yeah," you look between them. You fixate on the big guy, who barely squints at you over his drink, and you bite your lip. "I was hoping you had room for one more."

His friend cackles, "aye. Always fer a pretty face."

"Cute," you swallow. "But…I wasn't really talking to you."

The bigger one sits up at that. He leans back in the booth, rolling out his shoulders, and you hop up onto the seat next to him. His friend seems to get the message, picking up his new drink and tipping it towards you before taking a long drink of it and going to find a warm spot at the bar.

"Lookin' for advice or a fuck?"

"Neither," you say softly. "You're big, yeah? Are people…generally afraid of you?"

He laughs, and when he wipes at his masked face, you see a glimpse of a tattoo sleeve that adorns his massive left arm.

"Suppose."

"Great. How much for you to be my bodyguard for a few hours?"

He kisses his teeth under the mask, and then he turns his head to look down at you. His eyes are half-lidded, the skin looking a little greasy under the eye-black smudged there, but he's so calm and collected and amused. You've amused him; you're entertaining him. It's the most interesting thing that's happened to him all week, and you hope you're keeping his attention.

"Wot's tha' include?"

"It's gonna be illegal," you mumble, biting your bottom lip. "Just a little bit."

"Tha's my specialty, love."

"Not murder," you clarify, and he just shrugs. "Just…a little breaking and entering. Maybe some intimidation."

"'s Friday night, swee'eart, at least offer me somethin' fun."

"This isn't funny," you suck in a shaky breath. "It's…" You look down at the sticky pub table, swallowing again. You dig your nails into your own legs to keep your composure. "I need to get something back. Something that belongs to me. So it's not really…it's not really stealing."

A pregnant silence falls between you. You fail to keep the tears at your lash line back, and you quickly use the back of your hand to wipe your face gently. You think about your cat scratching for you on the other side of the window. You think about her sweet face; you think about Michael forgetting to feed her in the mornings as he usually did, and how he never changed the water filter in time even when you asked him to.

"'m Simon."

The low timbered voice breaks you out of your inner spiral. You look up at him again, and when you meet his eyes, you're finally able to let out a breath of relief. You don't know why, but there's something extremely soothing about sitting next to him. About being in his vicinity. He's so large and takes up so much space, but it's warm there, and he's not as mean as his outer layer might suggest. He's calm, and the way he presents himself tells you that it is not by luck that he's still sitting beside you.

You tell him your name, and his gloved hand touches under your chin.

"Olright, love. Lead the way."

Every time you have ever come back to this apartment, you have met the closed door with dread. A little fear. You feel none of that; not with the apparition at your back. You knock on the window beside the door, and like always, she appears. She meows on the other side, her eyes wet as she scratches and sniffs. You look over your shoulder at Simon who tilts his head to the side.

"This wot he stole?"

You look back at her on the other side of the window, shrugging.

"No," you say softly. "But it's all that matters."

The jiggling of metal brings your attention back to him. Simon is at the door, a multi-tool in one hand, and he's focused intently on working the doorknob until you hear the sound of a lock turn and then the door opens. The chain on the door jangles just as Simon opens it slightly, and you watch with rapt attention as he sticks his arm inside for just a few seconds, and then he swings the door open wide.

You push past him, reaching for the cat. She meows loudly, coming right to you, and you coo as you bend and pick her up from the floor. Loud purrs and sweet chirps follow as you hug her to your chest. You pet her little head, turning towards the living room. You used to keep her carrier behind the couch, and you find it as you go searching for it, exactly where you left it. You slip her inside and zip it up.

"What the fuck is this?"

You freeze, standing up straight and turning. You're caught, definitely—you knew he must have been home by the fact that the chain was latched, but you tried the nice way. You weren't going to get your cat back by being patient, not anymore.

"I'm just getting her, I'll…I was just leaving."

"Fuck no, you broke into my flat."

"Our flat," you snap back, putting the straps of the carrier over your shoulder. "And I'm leaving."

Michael looks like he's going to take a step towards you, but then he notices the dark shape in the corner of the room. He frowns a little, squinting.

"Who the bloody hell is that?"

You turn just in time to see Simon take a small step forward. The sudden movement seems to terrify Michael; he scrambles backwards into the kitchen counter, making the plates behind him fall off the counter and shatter onto the ground. He nearly trips over himself trying to get distance, and Simon seems to think it's very funny. He laughs, chest heaving, and he looks down at you as he gets closer.

"Flopping like a fuckin' fish, he is, in'he?"

Michael looks around frantically before he finds a pair of prongs. His hand shakes as he holds the pointy end towards Simon, spitting at him.

"Get the fuck out of my flat! T-The both of you!"

Simon's reaction tells you that maybe he has a few wires crossed in his head. He steps forward instead of away, laughing still, and you watch warily as he tilts his head to the side and nods his head towards Michael.

"Go on, then, mate," Simon taunts. "Try it."

Like a fool, Michael obliges. You flinch when Michael swings, but Simon tilts his body at just the right moment to dodge. He smacks Michael's arm, but he tries again—and like playing footie with a child, the weapon is now in Simon's hand, and then oh—

Michael's screaming as it pierces through his open palm.

He bleeds a lot less than you thought he might. Sadly, also, his blood is as red as yours. You thought he might be a little less pathetic at a moment like this. It is a gift, however, to see him bursting into tears as Simon grips the collar of his shirt and leans over him.

"Lot like you like to take things that aren't yers, tha' right?" Simon spits. "Like to punish and intimidate and fuckin' take, even if ya aren't owed."

"Please—please just get out, take her, fuckin' please!"

"Oi, wot's all this?" Simon snorts. "Now yer pissin' where you stand cause it got too real, eh? Got wot was comin' ta you? Reckon it's not like you thought. Reckon you thought she'd come hat in hand, beggin' for wot she deserves, but you wouldn't know good cunt even if it sat on yer face, yeah?"

"Please…"

"Simon—" You try, but he tsks, shaking his head.

"Nah, love, he's gonna learn," Simon murmurs. "Have you learned?"

"Yes," Michael squeaks, and you're not longer staring at the blood dripping on the hardwood, you're oogling at the giant man standing in what once was your kitchen that's starting to look more delicious by the second.

"Good," Simon breathes. "I know where ya lay yer head, mate. Know where ta come back if things aren't quiet on her end. You'd do well to remember tha'."

He releases Michael with a shove; Michael sinks to the floor, hands trembling, and Simon makes his way towards you to put a hand to your back and turn you around towards the front door.

"Need anythin' else?" Simon asks. You're too speechless to say anything, so all you do is shake your head. You clutch the carrier closer; she meows from inside the bag, and Simon nods his head towards outside so that you start moving. The door shuts behind you both, and then you're being led to his truck, ushered into the passenger seat, precious cargo on your lap as you breathe a huge sigh of relief.

The drive is quiet, but a comfortable quiet. You don't realize until a few streets over that you're smiling; a big, sparkling grin that's taking over your face, and when Simon rolls his truck to a stop at a red light, you lean over the center console and give his masked cheek a big, wet kiss of gratitude.

"Got a death wish or somethin'?" Simon turns to look at you, glaring from under the mask. It's so hard to be scared of him. He just put the fear of God into your terrible ex-boyfriend so you could get your precious cat back; he scared him shitless—literally—and he did it looking this good.

"Is that what a kiss gets me?" You ask. You slide your hand down his bicep, swallowing the drool when you feel just how solid and beefy he is under that hoodie. He fills it out too well. He must be so fucking handsome under that mask; there's no way he wears it for anonymity, he must be so hot, he wears it so he doesn't have to swat away all the boys and girls when they usually buzz around him like moths to light—

Maybe death is really this sweet. This good. Your cat is snoozing, safe and sound, in your bedroom with a full belly. The lights are on low; soft orange glows from well-placed lamps, giving the entire living room a warm feeling. There's a man on your couch with his belt unbuckled, mask halfway up his face as he pants because his cock is in your mouth, and he tastes like sweet, sweet victory.

"Ahh—fuck."

You nuzzle your nose up the length. He's so hard; you don't think a man has ever been this hard for you. He's leaking so pretty, dribbles down the length that you catch with the tip of your tongue, forcing him to hiss and spit and bite his knuckles. He keeps his hips still, but his hand around your hip squeezes the flesh there nice and tight, borderline bruising when you suck his tip a little too softly. You lick a stripe around the head before leaning back up towards him, and his hand around your hip curls against the back of your neck as you share a messy, wet kiss.

You twist your wrist, pumping his cock with a gentle glide of your palm, and he grits his teeth between kisses, touching his forehead to yours.

"Oll tha' for a cat, yeah?"

It is true. You did do it for her. But you did it for you, too.

"Not just the cat," you whisper, smoothing your thumb along the tip. He kisses you again, slower this time, and you groan into his mouth as you squeeze your thighs together. "Look at you…"

"Fuck—" Simon grunts, and his other hand finds the base of his cock, squeezing hard, and you giggle as he scrunches his nose. "Don't say shit like tha'."

You can't with his mouth on your cunt. He's laying flat on his back on the couch, legs too long to fit. Boots against your blanket, you'll whine to him about it later, but now both thighs are on either side of his head, and he's slurping with a hot tongue. You cup both sides of his head, dragging your hips, and while normally you'd think twice about dropping your weight on someone like this, the ease at which he hoisted you up his chest tells you Simon's a big, big boy—and he can handle whatever you give him.

"Gonna let me handle things from now on," Simon murmurs. He kisses the inside of your thigh, and you yelp when he smacks one side of your ass. He's waiting for an answer, and you took too long to give one.

"Y-Yeah," you breathe, leaning your head back. You feel yourself dripping between the legs, flooding his mouth, but he curls his tongue all the same. Uses two thumbs now as he hooks his arms around your thighs to pull the wet, sensitive skin back so he can drink what he's owed. He said he takes payment like this, getting his fill; he says he's never really satisfied until there's cum in his mouth and some in your cunt, and he's not gonna leave your flat before becoming familiar with those two, mutually non-exclusive events.

"Yeah, y'r pretty, olright," Simon laughs, but there's no more humor when he bounces you on his cock. Oh, he hurts a little. He told you he might, but then you're really there, knees on either side of him as you clutch onto the meat of his shoulders and hope to God he doesn't let you go. "Told you tha' you'd feel it, didn't I?"

"Yeah," you whisper, cupping that face of his, half-revealed to you, and you rub your thumbs down his scarred cheeks. Gorgeous, even with eyes that dead inside. "'s big."

"Don't—" He snarls, holding down your hips, shaking his head. "Wot did I say about sayin' shit like tha', eh?"

Life has spoiled you. Life is too good. Life is your pet curled up between your pillows and warm beneath the blankets, and life is fucking the sanity out of big, pudgy military men with blood under their fingernails and their breath stuck in their throat. You've rendered Simon to nothing but grunts and sputters. He's focused on keep the rhythm, arms clasped around your middle as he fucks up into you and pants into your neck. You reach for the back of the couch, digging your nails in, and all you can do is cry and take it as he keeps bringing you back down again and again and again.

The kiss you share is starved. You're so hungry, your hand slipping under the mask to cup the back of his head, and he draws your hips down and holds you there as he licks into your mouth and relishes in the pulsing of your cunt. This is what he fights for, maybe.

Not the glory. Not for the good of others. Not for Price and his self-guided moral compass, not for Laswell and her targets, not for revenge, not for blood, not to save the world. It's so he can come back here onto home soil and fuck a gorgeous girl without ever being interrupted by the sound of anything but her.

Her. You. Whatever she is, what you are, what you will eventually be—it manifests itself in the very room he's in, and he's got it between his teeth, and he won't be letting go for anything.

Nothing at all.

He's smoking a cigarette by the open window as she makes tea. He smiles, just barely, with teeth a little yellow when he sees you burn your hand a little as you pour the water into a misshapen mug.

"Olright?" He asks. The mugs shake a little as you bring them back into the room, precarious as you overfilled the mugs. He takes one from you and takes a long sip, flicking the cigarette out as he watches you get settled. You set your mug down on the coffee table, leaning forward to give him that same sweet, wet kiss on his cheek.

"Never better."

Belly full. Eyes bright. You are nothing like the woman that propositioned him just a few hours ago. A monotone, piss-drink evening, and then a scared, desperate girl asking him if he was willing to do something a little off the books.

Fucking finally. The world was just starting to get a little too dull.

It's the middle of the night when he hears the creak of a door. The sound of a little bell. You're laid out on your side, having just fallen asleep. The movie on the telly still plays, but Simon has turned the volume down. The light flickering from the screen is enough that he sees the cat trot into the room, eyes searching for you and seeing the two of you settled there.

She comes over slowly, sniffing the toes of Simon's boots, and then she closes her eyes as she rubs her face against his leg. Low purring, headbutts, and then she's putting a paw to his boot and looking up at him with the same big, wet eyes her mother has. Simon reaches down, scratching under her chin, and then she's curling up on his lap, little head next to yours as he leans back and takes it in. The sight for sore eyes. The thing that makes his medals and his stripes and all the money in the world look worthless—cheap.

Face down in the mud, a gaping hole in his back where he'd been stabbed clean through by something. The body was still cooling, blood still trickling out to stain the grass below. The 141 exchanged glances, but excused it as the traffickers turning on eachother. It wasn't unheard of- no honor amongst thieves. They continued.

Their second sign that something was wrong was the second body.

Pinned against a rock, slumped back, eyes bulging out of their sockets and jaw slack in a way that Ghost immediately knew was complete dislocation

and, chest flattened to a bloody paste, like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it over and over until it looked like a mess of crushed raspberries. They exchanged glances once more, grip tightening on their rifles. Once was a coincidence. Twice was looking a lot like a pattern. They continued.

Screaming from up ahead made them break into a sprint, crashing through the undergrowth and branches snapping underfoot until-

The screaming, blubbering really, agonized sobs mixed with bloodied apologies cut off, sickening c r a c k

skidding to a stop, Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost all watched with stupefied horror as a horned horse with pale, shimmering fur gripped the last trafficker's neck in its jaws and thrashed his body around like a rabid mutt, letting go and flinging his corpse to slam into a tree trunk with a wet crunch.

The beast's sides were heaving, harsh snorts and near-growls ripping from its throat as it pursued the corpse to stomp its hooves onto his head, brain matter splattering everywhere and staining its pearlescent fur with even more blood, its lion-like tail lashing behind it What would've been a magnificent mane had been shaved short, patchy and jagged, its ribs and hip bones were visible through its thin fur, and most damnably, whip and blade scarring blanketed its back, metal cuffs digging into its ankles, rusted with old blood and rubbing the skin underneath raw. Its horn, what should have been a long and gently curving point, was short with a wedge at the top where it had been shaved and ground down. Blood ran down its horn, drying into rust red on its face, staining the tattered rope that was tied tight around its face and upper neck like a poor imitation of a halter.

The beast, the unicorn, went after the last trafficker with a vengeance, not stopping until his head was nothing but a bloody paste vaguely attached to a neck and blood specks had splattered all the way to its neck. Then, it turned its head to look at the 141, nostrils flaring even as its legs quivered under its own weight. Gaz gulped, resisting the urge to take a step back. 'Horses,' he thought, 'are not supposed to have forward facing vision,'

"christ almighty..." Soap's utterance was barely a breath of words, the Scotsman staring with a wide, starry gaze. Then, to everyone else's horror, he slowly crouched, laying his rifle in the dirt, followed by his pistol and knife. "Soap, what the fuck are you doing?!" Price hissed, not taking his eyes off of the Unicorn in front of them, its ears perked as it stared directly at Johnny. "Tae poor thing's scared half to death, we dinnae want tae scare it more!" He whispered back.

Johnny slowly stood, hands low and held out to show he wasn't reaching for anything as he very carefully inched closer. Ghost made to grab for him, yank him back, but the unicorn let out a low grunt, making the brit freeze. They could only watch as Soap slowly inched closer to the beast, unsure if trying to get the crazy bastard back would make it charge, especially as it stomped its hoof into the dirt below, blowing from its nose in a harsh huff.

"Shh shh shh, easy darl'... 's okay, I ain't gonna hurt ye..." Soap soothed, his voice soft like velvet. He lowered his head a bit as he approached, not looking in its eyes for longer than a few moments at a time, keeping his body language slow and relaxed. It eyed him, shifting on its cloven hooves, pulling its head back in a near rear once he got within a few feet, his hand raising towards its snout.

"Easy love, 'm not gonna hurt ye..." He kept up the gentle stream of reassurance, smiling when it dipped to sniff at his wrist, giving him a better look at its sunken in cheeks and the way the 'halter' bit into its skin, "Tha's a good love, 's alright... I bet that rope's real itchy, huh?" He murmured, gentle as he brushed the back of two fingers against its nose, a soft stroke. Soap could see its eye whites as his other hand slowly came up to reach for the knot of the rope around its jaw, softly cooing to it when it snorted, shifting in place. He worked quickly, fingers tugging at the knots and undoing them in record time, letting the rope fall from the unicorn's head, stepping back as it stretched out its neck and shook itself out. "Yeah, there ye go love, feels better, hm?" He grinned at it, especially now that it stepped into his space with perked ears and a soft nicker. Soap brought his hand up once again, slow as it snuffled at his fingers, gently stroking at its nose once again.

Back with the other three, they could only watch in gobsmacked silence as Soap somehow got this man-killing beast of legend to not only calm down, but let him touch it.

"...So we all agree that Soap's a bloody disney princess?" Gaz murmured, leaning over to the others, who shot him a look for it. He shrugged, and wordlessly gestured to Johnny making friends with a horse nearly twice his size that they had literally watched maul a man. Ghost huffed, and begrudgingly had to agree. Price stopped, and squinted. "Wait, look-" He whispered, getting the others' attention, "-his hand," The hand hanging limp at Johnny's side had moved to be Just out of sight of the Unicorn's gaze, and began slowly moving in hand signals they all recognized. 'Injured. Tranq. Capture. Exfil.'

"...That crazy son of a bitch.." Ghost muttered, shaking his head in bemusement even as Gaz slowly reached to swap his bullets out. Carefully, so the Unicorn didn't catch on to what he was doing, Gaz didn't even raise his rifle to aim, keeping it low by his waist and praying he got the angle right as he waited until it was thoroughly distracted, before- clink! A dart shot out, hitting the unicorn in its chest, and it startled, rearing with a short whinny as Soap quickly ducked out of range of its flailing hooves.

Luckily, the tranq darts worked fast, and within a few moments it was stumbling on its feet, legs trying to buckle under it. Soap stepped forward with more cooing, "shhh shh 's alright darl, 's alright, lets lay down, yea?" managing to guide it into laying down on its own before it could fall and hurt itself. He knelt by its head, stroking over its neck as its eyes fought to stay open, before it finally slipped into unconsciousness. For a moment, there was silence, before Johnny looked up at Price with a wide grin and shining eyes, "So we're definitely keepin' it, right?!"

~

The darkness of this place was suffocating, dreary, and unkind. From what you heard, just beyond the darkness lied monsters eager to kill, maim and eat. Kar'niss, the strange and broken man he was, was able to be convinced to come with your party with the protection of his lantern. He unnerved you at first, the exoskeleton and long thin legs that carried his drider body. It was uncomfortable to look at them for too long. His speech and personality was also concerning, since he spoke in a broken sort of form and rarely referred to himself. It revealed his mental state, how he was. . . not all there. But he was still definitely there. He was. . . strange. But you had to admit, a part of you was curious about him. You had heard of driders, what they did and how they came to be. A part of you wanted to know more, but you kept your prodding questions to yourself. There's no easy way to suddenly ask all about a creature's culture and anatomy after all. . . especially when they seemed like touchy subjects.

Time still passed in this dark place, and shadows grew darker as a form of night swallowed the lands. With his lantern to protect, Kar'niss thought it best to settle for a makeshift camp. The others didn't seem too enthused, but there was a difference between sleeping on rough dirt and being torn apart by terrible creatures. Besides, who was going to argue with the drider who had lived most of his life in this place and remained unscathed?

Stress left you frustrated, naturally. With how this whole quest was going, it was no wonder that you needed some form of relief. Seeking sleep was of no use, your mind was far too active. Tiring yourself out wasn't useful either, considering that most of your muscles throbbed with pain and soreness. No, nothing was working. You needed something to help calm your mind. . . and your gaze moved down to the sleep trousers you wore. "Fuck. . . maybe just one will help," you mutter to yourself, pulling your pants off and shivering as you were exposed to the chill in the air. You were already getting wet, as if your body agreed that this was the best form of stress relief you could perform at this time. Or maybe your body was trying to give you a sign that you needed to find someone to take care of your needs. Your fingers circled your clit slowly, your breath catching. Gods. . . it had been a while since you last got off. And you were too cowardly to ask anyone in your party for a "favor". . . especially now. They'd all likely complain that in the middle of a dark land was definitely not the time and place to get it on. Your hand would do for now. It worked before. . .

A shuffling outside of your small tent snapped you away from the daze of pleasure, and a familiar hissing voice moved in the air. "A sweet scent. . . a sweet, succulent scent in the air. . . is it a gift, your Majesty? A gift for us?" Kar'niss quietly whispers. A clawed hand touched the tarp of your tent, and you scrambled to pull the blankets of your bedroll over yourself. The same clawed hand moved the tarp, and the hungry expression of Kar'niss came into view. However, his expression dropped as soon as his many eyes trained on you. "Oh. . . True Soul. . . Apologies, to you and her Majesty- I smelled a sweetness. . . Have you smelled it?" he says, his voice quiet and tentative now. You blinked a few times, "Uhm. . . Not that I know of." If he was referring to what you thought he was, then this turned into a much more awkward situation that you first thought.

Kar'niss turned his head, his long spider legs moving him forward as he sniffed the air. A shaky sigh left him as he closed his eyes, his form trembling. "The scent. . . it lingers most here. . . fills the air. . . so so sweet, just like her Majesty. . . oh so sweet. . ." he whispers, almost looking to be drooling now. His pedipalps twitched with what looked to be excitement. Kar'niss seems to disregard the invasion of privacy, seeking with his nose the source of the "sweet scent" he speaks of. His legs lower himself, moving closer to the ground. . . and closer to you. He inhales deeply, his face close to the blanket that was covering your indecency. His eyes finally open, and they move to be trained on your face. "It comes from you. . . True Soul. . . The scent. . . oh please, show me what smells so delicious, so sweet and pure~. . ." he purrs, almost begging with a pleading expression. It's. . . oddly cute, and alluring. You figure it's time to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. Perhaps this was best to never tell anyone. . . take it to the grave, so to speak.

With a shy tone, you say, "I was. . . tending to some self relief and. . ." You move the blanket, exposing your still wet pussy. Kar'niss looks absolutely stunned, eyes now zeroed in on the slick folds and your clit peeking out. A growling sort of exhale leaves him. ". . . True Soul . . . you. . . smell. . . so. . ." he says, lips twitching and hands reaching out for you. However he stops himself. "What am I. . . what is. . . what is happening to me? I feel. . . hungry. . . but. . . not for food or blood. . ." he asks himself. Rarely he had ever referred to himself til now. It was as if his mind was clearing, or perhaps some long lost instinct brought back some sanity. How funny, that exposure to a wet cunt could bring back sanity to a man. "Forgive me- I shouldn't be here. . . you seek rest, True Soul. . ." But before he leaves, you find yourself grasping his arm, an arm that is defended and tough with a grey exoskeleton. He pauses, looking at you with surprise. ". . . You can stay, Kar'niss. . ." you whisper, and you see Kar'niss' eyes move over you. He swallows, and finally rests his spider body on the ground of the small tent. He takes up half of the space, but you don't seem to mind his proximity. Kar'niss looks at you with cautious eyes, silently asking permission and confirmation. It was almost cute, and you just nodded to reassure him again.

Maybe it was lust, a need for touch and attention. Or maybe you were curious of the drow drider. What ever the reason, you wanted him here and wanted see what he would do. Kar'niss let out a sigh as his eyes move to look at your pussy again. "It has been. . . long since. . . I've seen. . . such a quim like yours. . ." he admits, his hands reaching for you again. Warm, tough exoskeleton presses against your calves as Kar'niss gently grasps you, as though he was hesitant to touch, like he could corrupt and taint you. He continues, "So long since I . . . felt the wetness. . . the warmth. . ." He leans closer, clawed hands almost pulling you towards him and his eyes moving to look at your face. The many eyes of Kar'niss are dark, but you can see his irises are a rich brown in color. He stares for a moment, then his gaze moves down to your lips. His lips part, scarred and dry, "So long since I have. . . tasted another. . . Can I. . . May I taste you, True Soul?" His breath is warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the chill outside. His eyes move to yours again, and he looks as though he may beg and plead just to kiss you.

Curiosity mixed with need and loneliness was a cocktail of emotions that you never expected to feel, especially now with Kar'niss. But hey, you live life once, right? You wordlessly nod, and a shuddering breath leaves Kar'niss. "Forgive me-" he whispers, then presses his lips against yours. It's. . . surprisingly nice. His lips were a bit dry, but he was careful. Tentative, even. As though he didn't want to overwhelm you with his neediness. His hands moved to your shoulders now, pedipalps grazing the skin of your legs. After a moment, he pulled away but not far. His nose bumped against yours as he whispered again, "More. . . please let me have more. . ." A slick, blackened tongue moves from the inside of his mouth, wetting his lips. In a moment of boldness, you flick your tongue against his. Kar'niss growls lowly, but you know it's not to threaten. It's want. He takes it as an invitation (which it was), and pushed his tongue past your lips. He tastes bittersweet, like the darkest sort of chocolate or cranberries. A lingering taste of iron could be tasted as well. What surprised you most was that his tongue was dexterous. . . and long. It swirls around your own, making your mouth feel full as he seems to try all he can to navigate your mouth and taste every flavor it had to offer. The mingling taste of your spit and his was dizzying. He barely let your tongue move into his mouth, likely to make sure he didn't accidentally bite or cut you with his sharp teeth. When he finally moves away, a "Hah~. . . " sort of sound left him as he exhaled. His tongue was still slick with saliva, and hung low slightly past his chin. Something that could only be described as lust filled his many eyes. His tongue moved again, licking a stripe up your throat. "More. . . I want more. . ." he purrs, and trails down your body. Wet saliva created a sheen on your body as he tongue moved over your warm skin.

You didn't stop him, especially when he hoisted your thighs over his shoulders, and pressed his face into your folds. He inhales deeply and groans loudly. He stays there a moment, inhaling your scent over and over as if he can't get enough of it. "Oh yes. . . So perfect and sweet. . . I need this pussy-" he growls, and you nearly scream from the feeling of his warm, wet tongue pushing right into you. He laps and devours, claws careful not to break the skin as he holds you still. His tongue explores and fills your greedy and wanting warmth, soft and whining moans leaving Kar'niss as he tastes you. It's as if you're the best thing he's ever tasted. . . His tongue eventually pulls back so he can lick through your folds. Kar'niss pauses, clawed thumb pulling the hood of your puffy clit back and grinning. "Ah. . . So pretty. . . wonder what this will make you do if I just. . ." he whispers, and begins to suckle on your clit. His eyes close and he moans with you, cycling between licking and sucking on the tender bud. The sounds of slurping and moaning are so lewd and loud that you're surprised that no one has woken up or heard it. But then, he suddenly pulls away when you're about to cum and looks ashamed. You would've complained, had you not noticed his expression first. ". . . Why. . . why do I feel so. . ." he whispers, and then grunts. Kar'niss covers his face with his hands as he pulls back, and you notice a slickness between two plates slightly above where his pedipalps were. A hidden slit, as it were, where a heavy slick bubbled and leaked. Was that. . . precum? Kar'niss suddenly looks embarrassed. "Don't look at me! Don't look at my shame! I didn't mean to-" You move forward, pulling Kar'niss' hands away from his face. "Whoa- hey! It's alright. . . what's going on?" you ask. Kar'niss looks away, one of his hands moving to attempt to hide his face once again, "I'm. . . aroused. . . I want to. . . I want to breed. I need to. . ." "Breed?" "Yes. . . breed. . . My kind gets very. . . excited when we are uhm. . . Sorry, True Soul . . . I do not mean to overwhelm you, especially with. . . carnal desires." "Oh . . Are you holding yourself back?" "Quite literally. . . I. . . know my anatomy. . . intimidates those who are. . . not my kind. . ." " . . . Show me." Kar'niss looks startled, "W-what?" "Show me how aroused you are. . ." With a shaky inhale, there's a squelching noise and you look down. From the hidden slit, what you can only assume is his cock moves out at a sluggish pace and stands proud. It's almost sticky looking, with precum beading and running down the shaft. The head is pointed, and the shaft curves with slight differences in thickness. It's long, just like his tongue. . . and grey in color. It's pretty, in an odd way. For a moment, you wonder how it tastes . . . and if it would all fit. It twitches in the cold air, seeking attention from you. Kar'niss looks away, his hands covering his face in shame. Before he says anything bad about himself again, you grasp his cock. A choked gasp leaves him as you experimentally pump him. Precum dribbles continuously from the tip, coating your hand in mere seconds. It's stickier than whatever is keeping his cock lubricated, like warm caramel. You lift your fingers to your mouth and taste it, and Kar'niss looks like he may implode from the sight in front of him. Sweet. Like pure melted sugar. You look at Kar'niss, deciding it would be too cruel if you didn't allow him to indulge his desires and leave him hard. He doesn't seem like the type to just- go and deal with this himself. . .

"Do you want me?" you ask, and Kar'niss nods silently with a great eagerness. You move closer to Kar'niss, and his arms wrap around you. He's warm to the touch, warmer than you expected. His pedipalps guide your legs to wrap around his "hips" as he "sits" on the ground, his cock touching the inside of your thigh. Another shaking breath leaves Kar'niss, "Let me breed you, True Soul. . . please. . . I can't hold myself back. . . I promise to be gentle, to be good, just please. . ." Oh he was too cute. . . You move so the tip presses against your opening, and Kar'niss lets out a strained noise. It's a slow stretch, but due to the lubrication on his cock, it feels nothing but natural and painless. Smooth, the entire way down. You take him, and his cockhead hits perfectly against your cervix. He moans, "Oh Gods- oh my-" He gasps before speaking again, "MMMMmmmm. . . I need to-" Kar'niss holds you like a vice, and his pedipalps act like another set of arms, guiding your hips as he thrusts at a slow pace. It's like he's afraid to pull out and be too far away from being buried in your warmth, almost grinding instead of actually thrusting back and forth. He huffs and puffs, his face pressed against your neck. "So. . . warm. . . so. . . tight. . . Hah~! Mmm . . . Forgive me, True Soul, forgive my selfishness. . . I don't deserve such a perfect pussy to breed-" he whispers against your skin, his pedipalps guiding your hips faster. Your orgasm washes over you with surprising timing, but he doesn't stop. Instead, he growls lowly as you clamp down on him. "More- more- gotta prepare-" he mumbles, his sharp teeth brushing over your neck. His grip tightens as he thrusts faster, gritting his teeth now. You're surprised he's going so fast and not yet cum, especially since he seemed to have been going through a very long dry spell.. He whines, growls, gasps, every kind of erotic noise tumbling out his throat. It's primal, instinctual, and natural for him.

His sounds mix with yours, and he shakes as he continues to fuck you hard. A second orgasm comes and goes quickly, and you're overstimulated as he brings you a third. It's only then as you clamp and gush on him for a third time that his hips finally stutter. "Have to. . . make sure. . . your quim. . . takes me well. . . must. . . satisfy. . . my love. . ." he groans, then thrusts harder. You're too far gone to understand what exactly he means by that. All you want is him, nothing else mattered. His sharp teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, keeping a grip on you. After a moment he pulls away and licks over the mark he made, looking proud of himself. "Yes. . . mate. . . finally. . . mate. . ." he coos, the words quiet as he nears his climax. It's overwhelming, but all the more rewarding when he finally cums. It triggers your fourth orgasm once he cums, and it only seems to intensify his own orgasm. His mouth opens in a silent scream at first, then an almost broken, crying sound leaves him as his cock throbs inside of you. It throbs several times, each time filling you with a rush of hot cum that definitely needed to be spent. A satisfying and comfortable warmth fills you, so much so that you fear it will leak out. It feels thick inside you, slightly heavy; it's oddly satisfying to feel inside you. One of Kar'niss' hands moves behind him as he gently pulls you off of his cock and down on your bedroll once more. A sticky, white and gooey substance covers Kar'niss' hand once it's back in view, and he spreads it over your spent pussy. "Don't worry . . . it's only my webbing," he mutteres, taking note of your confused face. You twitch as Kar'niss pushes the strong webbing slightly into your core, plugging his cum inside of you. He lathers the rest over the opening of your pussy and looks satisfied. "There. . . Now it's sure to take. . ." Take . . . wait a minute! Take?! You didn't even think about that. . . was it possible? You couldn't ask now! You'd have to ask Gale later- Your thoughts were interrupted as Kar'niss tenderly kissed your forehead. "Thank you, my love . . . Rest easy, you're tired. . . I will protect you from harm, as your mate. . ." he whispers, and quietly leaves your tent. You momentarily wonder if now Kar'niss would keep you here forever. You knew what "mate" implied. . . Hopefully you didn't end up breaking his heart by the end of all this. . .