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351 - Rising Tension [Sturmblitz]
🕑 Added 2024-03-31 07:19:45 +0000 UTCA/N: Mild smut at the end
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Despite not saying it aloud, Zelsys felt that she knew the real reason for Strake’s acquiescence to Zero’s newfound chivalric virtue — he was, fundamentally, a virtuous man. He had just decided to play the part of an unrepentant war-dog, and he played it to the point of fooling even himself.
The rest of the ride passed by uneventfully, and they reached the nesting site without incident. Zel found herself unable to mentally check out — it wasn’t just the insistent manner in which Zefaris pressed her fingers into her sides, even her scent was different. In her mind, she knew it was physically the same as always, the same unmistakable perfume, but somehow she could smell the tension through it. She ignored it for now.
A fair distance from the charred clearing, the sturmgandr came to a halt, and they reached the place not long after. Besides the battle damage and environmental disturbances caused by the harvesting of the previous dragon, it was quite clear why the Wildfire Kite had chosen this specific spot for its nest — at least to Zelsys. As they circled the derelict, bloodsoaked nest, she allowed that thought to slip free: “No wonder the dragon chose this spot.”
“Why? I don’t see anything in particular. The kite set up some formations, but it could’ve done that anywhere…” Zefaris questioned without an iota of doubt in her voice.
“Not sure myself. It just feels right. I would set up a campsite here for the long term, given the choice.”
Zefaris manifested the Nameless Phantom, sending him off into the treeline and well out of sight. They made their way to the planned observation site some distance away and began setting up camp. It was a remarkably flat-topped rocky outcrop, and bore signs of repeated past use for this purpose. The reason was simple: It was the beneficiary of a natural concealment formation, making it slightly, but appreciably more difficult to notice. From the marks in the rock, it seemed there had been folk formations in place at some point.
As they settled into their observation spot, Zefaris began carving a replacement for those worn-away formations, one which would concentrate and amplify the area’s natural properties to the point where it could conceal them even from the plain sight of a dragon descendant.
Meanwhile, Zelsys carried out rites of appeasement to the local monads, a clumsy imitation of what Jorfr made appear effortless. She supplemented the lackluster well of power by cheating with the same instinctive attunement that had made her notice why the nesting site seemed right, adjusting rocks and sticks as well as scraping shallow channels into the dirt.
Two hours passed in the blink of an eye. Zel had set a fire, balancing a griddle over it, with two pots. One would be a stew in a few hours, while in the other she combined Winter Peach Brandy with a splash of Rubedo and several spices to help mask it. It was no invention of her own, but something conceived by Ozmir.
Two hours. Still nothing. Normally, the tension would have boiled over by now. But Zel held off, and Zef had, for some reason, made the choice to not make the first move, despite the fact Zelsys saw right through the mask. Though unsure of the reason herself, Zelsys felt it right to hold off for now.
“A bit longer, not yet…” her instincts told her.
Neither of them was sure of the reason for this standoff, and yet, they continued on with it all the same.
Hours passed. The sun had set. Zel could feel the tension growing, and gradually realized why she was holding off — and also when she would finally stop. That time was not yet.
Zelsys had spent most of those hours reading, whereas Zefaris had fully dedicated her attention to overlooking the perimeter, intermittently carving one glyph or another on the trees in preparation for the dragon’s arrival. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few sentences, and by now it was fairly obvious Zefaris was frustrated, having consumed 2/3 of the mulled brandy. Eventually, the gunwoman laid down on her stomach at the very edge of the outcrop, using her coat as a blanket, Pentacle in hand and a cup of brandy to the side. The dragon could, after all, appear at any moment.
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A small part of Zefaris had come to worry that the new outfit wasn’t to Zel’s liking, despite knowing full well that she would have said as much if that was the case. But now, it was clear nothing had been wrong.
Zef felt Zel approaching from behind well before anything took place, her intentions spilling out like a static field of violent want. Her coat was pulled off of her, shoved to the side in a pile. Solid, steel-cold tendrils coiled around her body, only to surge with current as they moved further. Her peaked cap slipped forward, obscuring sight and allowing loose strands of hair to fall into her face.
Coiling and tightening as if a swarm of constrictor serpents, Zel’s Thundergods bound her legs and arms. The fourth spiraled around her chest, burrowing beneath her clothing, while the last wrapped around her neck, so tightly she could barely breathe, and these two together lifted her helplessly off the ground as the heat and static of Zel’s body washed over her, soon followed by the amazon’s enormous frame. Zefaris felt nearly weightless, held aloft, her arms pulled behind her back and bound by the intertwining of two Thundergods. A searing-hot, pulsating spear pushed itself between her legs, yet she was denied the release of being pierced by it, its forceful twitching battering against her womanhood.
The sound and warmth of heavy breath approached her right ear, a trickle of viscous saliva dripping onto her neck. From her left, a pair of fingers pushed into her mouth, and then teeth sunk through her shirt, clamping onto her shoulder.
Comments
Joshy14-06
nah, they'll be interupted by the dragon any moment
Tehd11
I'm not sure but it feels like they gon bang, might be wrong tho
