章节正文
阿特妮轻挠着托雷克斯的下巴。他们站在大理石铺就的庭院里，眺望着远处广袤的草原。此刻仍是白昼，但阿兹尔的天穹已然暗沉，群星却明亮得如同午夜时分。当巨龙发出满足的呼噜声时，她不禁莞尔——那股震颤顺着她的手臂传来——当他试图舔舐她的脸颊时，她轻轻拍开了他的舌头。自相遇之日起，他就总是这般亲昵。同行时他会磨蹭她的腿脚，共眠时将鼻吻埋入她的颈窝，或是当她祈祷时盘绕在她的腰间。当他仅有狮鹫犬大小时尚可承受。但他可是德拉科尼斯——一种六肢天界巨龙，鳞片如深海般湛蓝——如今体型已是骏马的两倍。光是他的脖颈就与阿特妮的整个身长相当。每当他用脑袋轻推，她都得竭力稳住身形；同眠时他几乎令她窒息；而跪地祈祷时，她几乎看不见头顶的星辰。
不过，当他灵巧地绕过她的手掌，用湿漉漉的舌头从她下巴一路舔到眼睛时，她心想：这庞大的体型倒让他成了绝佳的坐骑，暖融融的睡伴，寂寞时最贴心的慰藉。况且他还没完全长大——最年长的德拉科尼斯能长到建筑物般规模。当然这需要数百年光阴，而托雷克斯离成年还远着呢。每当想起这点，他仿佛又变回初遇时的小不点：小得能被她搂在怀里。
他猛地将脑袋拱进她胸口，把她撞得跌坐在地。坠落时她惊叫出声，落地后疼得直抽气。"你可真够壮的，我领教了。"她拽着鞍具上的皮带爬起来。若是个凡俗女子，这一摔怕是要尾椎骨开裂。但她是风暴铸甲——西格玛神军麾下的精锐战士。在濒死瞬间被天神伟力拯救，她的血肉与灵魂经神匠重铸，如今身高近七尺，恍若由脚下抛光大理石雕琢而成的神像。纵使有着神铸的臀部，这一摔照样疼得够呛。
她本想训斥托雷克斯，但这头巨龙早已亲昵地蹭着她的身侧，琥珀色的眼眸如星辰般仰望着她。他的鼻吻勾住了她的长袍，丝绸布料缠在颌下仿佛长出了胡须。她笑着推开了他。
一道阴影从头顶掠过。疾风卷着长袍紧贴她的腿背。距离近得过分——她知道他是故意的——维洛斯如雷霆般降落在庭院。他骑乘着自己的龙族坐骑阿瑞米斯，这头高傲的巨龙昂首而立，而骑士甩开头盔下的卷发，刻意让海希之光为面容镀上辉晕。"你还是一如既往地难以捉摸，"他洪钟般的声音响起，"但我记得训练目标是将我击落，而非逃之夭夭。"
阿瑞米斯防守太严密，"阿忒涅答道，"我们根本近不了你的身。
“所以你就逃跑了？”
“我们活下来了。”她清了清嗓子，“长官。”
维洛斯是龙骑士团成员，风暴巨龙守卫团中少数能与龙族缔结契约的精英风暴铸甲战士之一，位列高阶。他翻身下鞍，大摇大摆地朝她走来。那身几乎从不离身的青铜铠甲反射着刺目光芒，逼得她不得不抬手遮眼。“总得有人把我的英勇传说带回要塞大厅——西格玛在上，我可忙着创造新传奇呢。”
“当然。长官。”
他伸手想搭上她的肩膀，但托雷克斯却把脑袋搁在那儿，对他怒目而视。阿特妮不明白为何托雷克斯在维罗斯面前总是这般暴躁。她暗自揣测，或许只是厌恶他下巴上那撮乱蓬蓬的胡茬。“今晚将举行庆典，”他说道，“虽无特别缘由，但我想我们理应享受些欢愉。我相信埃里斯会很高兴见到你出席。”
"听起来棒极了。"
"我能期待你的出现吗？"
“我会考虑的，长官。”
他点点头，拍了拍她的手臂。托雷克斯发出低吼。维洛斯看他的眼神就像在看一个任性的孩子。“你说我的是防御性的？”
"他最终会对你热络起来的，"阿特娜说道。
"我们再等一个世纪吧。反正，我也不需要他喜欢我。有阿瑞米斯就够了。"他打了个响指，龙颈便亲昵地环住他的胸膛。当他轻挠她下巴时，她发出满足的呼噜声，随后用鼻尖蹭他的脸，又舔了舔他的下颌。"看来某条龙需要抛光鳞片了。"
"那我就不留你了。"
"就算你想留，我看她也不会答应。"阿瑞米斯几乎是拽着维罗斯离开的。"磨人的小东西，"他边说边跟着她走向山间的龙巢——所有德拉科尼斯巨龙栖息的所在。除了托雷克斯。自从得知雅典娜有了自己的寝宫后， 他就始终守在那里。这种孩子般的依恋在他们漫长的共处岁月里成为众人调侃的话柄，雅典娜也学会了配合这些玩笑。她从未表露的是：自己其实珍视这份陪伴。她并不憎恶其他风暴铸甲战士，只是从未真正觉得自己属于他们。
成为风暴铸甲者，必须追求英勇无畏的死亡。那些生前作为英雄而活的人，将被神圣雷霆拯救，带往阿兹尔的熔炉重铸。而那些平庸度日者，终将平庸地死去。阿特妮生前并非英雄。她已记不清自己是如何死去的。
她新生的绝大部分时光都在战士中度过—— 作为一名战士——然而那些耳闻的英雄传说与自己寥寥无几的功绩，总让她觉得终有一日西格玛本尊会从天而降，宣告她整个存在不过是场闹剧。一个仅供周遭众人取乐的拙劣把戏。
托雷克斯发出呼噜声靠向她。阿特妮轻笑着用肩膀回顶，双臂尽可能环住他的脖颈，就这样相偎而行。承蒙西格玛恩典她得以重生，但直到遇见托雷克斯，阿特妮才真正开始重活。
庭院上方耸立着风暴要塞——她所属风暴军团在此地的行动基地。这座由白色大理石与华贵青铜铸就的堡垒布满尖塔与立柱，错综复杂的街道间林立着精雕细琢的建筑。尽管建在凡世之上，风暴要塞本身便是一座独立城池。在此工作的凡人们早已习惯那些半神战士与可怖坐骑的景象，而阿特妮感激他们极少投来关注的目光。其他风暴铸甲战士则友善得多。大多数遇见她的人都会点头致意，她也一一回礼，却始终不与任何人对视。
风暴龙卫是任何风暴之主的精锐部队，而阿特妮最感激的特权便是拥有私人营房。她获准独占一整间屋子——这是个下沉式的开放式圆形厅堂，所有陈设（她称为床铺的枕头毛毯堆、书架、武器架及其他装备）都沿墙摆放，地板中央则凿出一方浴池。穹顶之上毫无遮蔽，她随时能仰望天空，而托雷克斯也多半由此往来。
她将沉重的青铜门在身后关上。金属碰撞声在寂静的房间里回荡。托雷克斯从她身边溜过，慵懒地倚在浴池旁，沐浴着海希的最后一丝光芒。这光芒让大理石闪闪发亮，让青铜如火焰般燃烧。
若非深知托雷克斯笨拙的本性，阿特涅或许会用"威严"来形容他的坐姿。回忆令她莞尔，她在他身旁坐下，开始用手轻抚他的身侧。他发出呼噜声，整个房间似乎都随之震动。
阿特涅唱起歌来。这是她前世记忆中的一首安静歌谣，却想不起从何处学来，也不明白为何会令心头作痛。每一次重铸——从第一次直到永恒——风暴铸甲者都会失去自我的一部分：熟悉的面容、故乡的记忆，甚至凡俗时的姓名。在神明的锻锤之下，没有什么不可剥夺。
她与托雷克斯在许多方面都极为相似。他们生于并非由自己挑起、无力终结、终将为之献身的战争中。既非同辈中的第一人，也非最后一位，唯有彼此才能给予慰藉。他们无亲无故。他们将战斗，将死去，若有朝一日足够幸运，或许会因事迹被人铭记，否则便会如凡人之魂般湮灭于永恒。
她的手向下滑去，抚过他的腹部，他顺势贴近她的触碰。本不必如此。阿特涅注定要为西格玛的战争奉献不朽之身——对风暴铸甲战士而言，真正的死亡只是被推迟——除此之外她别无人生，但托雷克斯却是龙裔——虽为威猛生灵，终究仍是兽类。尽管他的存在受缚于破壳前便已缔结的条约，却不像她那样是名士兵。当龙裔未被征召时，他们可自由翱翔，彼此交游，随心所欲地生活。那么他为何留在她身边？
她在他腹部打着圈轻抚，指尖沿着他的髋骨线条游走。
没有什么能阻止他飞向群山。他可以在其他龙裔之间翱翔于峰峦之巅，找到与自己相配的那位——
阿特妮停止了歌唱。一抹深红在她脸颊上蔓延。托雷克斯注视着她，她不得不移开视线。
确实没有什么能阻止他做那些事 。让龙裔繁衍新一代至关重要。这个想法虽然病态又令人难堪，却是事实。在这种时候，实用主义压倒了基本道德准则。
阿特妮完全有自由做这些事。她的脸更红了。风暴铸型无法生育——重铸过程确保了这一点——但并没有法令禁止他们……享受尝试的过程。西格玛在上，她可没少收到这类邀约——来自凡人和风暴铸型都有。
她自己也说不清为何要拒绝他们。每当这种事发生，她都会红着脸说他们很体贴，然后回到自己的房间，一直待到维罗斯来敲门为止。她并非抗拒这个念头。事实上，关于那个念头——无论是凡人还是风暴使的——她早已浮想联翩。但她只会在独处时暗自品味这些遐想，就连托雷克斯都不在身旁，还要祈祷西格玛没有注视她的时刻。可当脸庞与胸口的燥热开始向下蔓延时，她认定这种思绪已经走得够远了。
她摸到了湿漉漉的东西。
阿特妮猛地抽回手，扭头望去。托雷克斯双腿间裂开一道缝隙，渗出透明粘稠的液体。接着有东西滑了出来——那东西只有她指尖大小，泛着紫光，表面覆盖着闪亮的黏液。它随着托雷克斯的心跳脉动，每次加速搏动都令其愈发膨胀。她恍惚地凝视着，目光锁定在那不断延展的物体上，仿佛有无尽的血肉正从他腿间涌出。那东西贴着他的大腿，随后开始鼓胀。阿特妮能看见他的脉搏沿着那勃起的部位波动，它变得越来越长、越来越粗、越来越硬，最终笔直挺立，直指向她。
那是他的……阳具，她终于意识到了。他的阴茎 。
这完全不像她记忆中的任何阳物。它过于粗壮，泛着紫红，顶端尖细，覆着一层晶莹的黏液。托雷克斯用低沉的男中音咕哝着。他声音的力量穿透地板，渗入阿特妮的躯体，与她四肢渐强的颤抖交织在一起。她的手悬停在他那根巨物上方。他低吼一声。托雷克斯猛然挺胯，仿佛她已触碰到了他——那根阳具陡然绷直，顶端凝聚出一滴前液，根部却膨胀得更为骇人，紧接着从缝隙中滑出两团鼓胀的肉结。
Atene gasped. The size of it was enough to surprise her – she had seen enough of her comrades to know that Sigmar never blessed his chosen with anything quite like this – but what she was taken most by was just how alien it looked. She leaned forward. It should be ugly. She should be disgusted. Indifferent, at the very least.
So why did she lean even closer?
Torrex was watching her. His amber eyes bore into her own as his hot breaths filled the air and spilled over her body. Her own breath was heavy. She saw him only through the corner of her eyes, because they were locked on his cock.
How long had it been since she’d known the touch of a man? Never, since her rebirth. Before that, in her mortal life? She couldn’t even remember.
It was not that Torrex was a man, she reminded herself. He was Draconith. A beast. A magnificent one, to be sure, but a beast all the same.
One with all the makings of a man.
His chest was broad. His entire body was well-muscled. He had a strong jaw and his entire form radiated power. There was his cock to consider, as well.
Sigmar knows she was considering it.
Atene looked to the open ceiling of their chamber and the vast expanse of the heavens above.
She hoped Sigmar didn’t know.
Torrex certainly did. His lips pulled back and a growl rumbled in his chest. She felt no threat from the gesture – he could be impatient, that was all. But what was he waiting for? What did he expect her to do?
She couldn’t lay with him. It was unthinkable. So why was she thinking it? Atene forced the thoughts aside.
It would be cruel to leave him like this. After all, was she not the reason he’d felt this way? Had her touch not drawn this from him? Her thoughts? The deepest connection between a Stormcast and their mount transcended mundane boundaries – one could feel the other's thoughts like a whisper in their own. Had Torrex felt hers? Or had she felt his?
At that moment, it didn’t seem to matter, for what could she do?
Torrex watched her. She looked into his amber eyes. His head turned low and his eyes were lidded – almost sultry. His tongue, wet and long, slid past dagger-fangs and snaked through the air. He was tasting it. Her cheeks – already flushed – burned crimson when she smelled it.
There was a heat in her core that ran lower. Down, between her legs. She rubbed her thighs together and felt the warm wetness of her sex. They looked into each other’s eyes as his cock flexed and her thighs ground together and the seeping warmth between them burned.
Atene sucked in a breath, then stood. She fought to steady her breathing and wrung the skirt of her robe. She turned, then looked over her shoulder but was unable to meet his gaze. “I’ll give you some space.”
She left the room with stiff, unsteady steps and knew that Torrex watched her the entire time.
–
Every flight ended the same – they retired to their chambers, Torrex bared himself, and Atene left. What she didn’t realise is that every time, she stayed a little longer, and her hand reached a little closer.
–
For the entirety of the exercise, Atene could focus on nothing except the feeling of him between her legs: the heat of his body, the smooth slide of his scales, his steady breathing, and the powerful drumbeat of his heart.
They raced beneath the stars faster than the comets between them. Not even Aremis could match Torrex in his flying. It was erratic and daring – harrowing yet thrilling manoeuvres that forced her to hold him close and press her body against his. Their flights had always been exhilarating, but when they landed, she knew it was not a lust for the skies that left her breath heavy and her heart quickened.
Not even waiting for Veros, she slid off the saddle and hastened to their chamber, daring not to look back. By the time she’d reached the centre of the room and started to calm herself, Torrex was still following with slow, casual steps.
She watched from over her shoulder as he curled on the floor and licked his paw. He rested on his side, his chest and belly out. It was not all she could see. Already, the slit between his legs widened. The head of his cock slipped through. Her breath caught when she saw that he was watching her, too.
The fabric of her gown hung close to her body. Though it obscured her musculature, the trim curve of her waist and the swell of her hips seemed all-too apparent.
Atene folded her arms across her chest, as if to cover it. Torrex never looked away, even as she did and, slowly, walked toward him. “I’ve known you since you were young. Nothing but a little drake, not even the length of my arm. Veros said you hatched the day I was first reforged.” She knelt and slid her hand across his chest. Then, down his stomach. He purred, a rumbling sound that went along her arm and into her breast. Atene sighed. “We have grown with each other – two halves of one whole. Sigmar’s champions. We are the lightning and the thunder. The calm and the storm.” His cock grew – a steady swelling as it already oozed from the tip. She circled his belly, tracing the definition of his musculature and the grooves on his hips that seemed to point her to his manhood. The heat of his body was matched only by that of her core. Her thighs rubbed together, involuntarily, and she snaked her fingers between them. “Yet we are human and beast. It would be perverse. Wrong.”
He growled. It shook her entire body yet the sound ended pitifully, almost a whine. It was met by her own that slipped past her lips as her fingers slid through the ones between her legs. She rubbed the inside of his thighs. His cock flexed and a jet of clear, viscous fluid slapped across her lap. Its smell – like ozone – struck her and she groaned. Her fingers quickened and she rubbed at the skin around the bulge of his base. “But we are man and woman, also.” She looked into his amber eyes, glazed with want, hers lidded with shameful arousal. “Is it wrong that we become one?”
Atene slid her hand across the length of his cock, moaning in time with her exploration of it. It was hot. She could feel it even before she touched the flesh but as her fingers slid across its slick length, she half-expected steam to follow. Torrex’s head fell back. When she reached the tip, she wrapped her fingers around it. Her hand was already drenched with its fluids – it spilled between her fingers and ran down, past her wrist and arm as she twisted around the thin, tapered head. Torrex groaned, almost a roar.
She stroked him in a frantic rhythm in tandem with her own pleasuring. His cock was as rigid as iron yet the flesh was supple beneath her soft touch. The longer she stroked him, the harder she gripped. Droplets of his arousal fell onto Atene, his own body, and the floor around them. The air was stained with their smell and filled with a wet, slapping sound.
“You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”
Her pace quickened. Torrex thrusted into her hand. His tongue fell past his lips and he growled, constant and low.
“How long have you waited, watching? How long have you wanted me?”
Her hand was a blur and desperate, coiling pressure built in her core. Her fingers danced between her folds and teased at her clit. But she couldn’t take her eyes off his cock. Its length. The thickness. The smell filled her mind and she imagined the taste – the feeling of it inside her mouth – its texture on her tongue. She imagined him above her, his body blocking all light as he guided that cock between her legs and split her body on its girth – the pulsing thickness as it filled the aching emptiness in her core. What would it be like? To feel him thrusting into her? Taking all of her in a way no other had as she writhed beneath him, and that cock filled her and spilled its load across her chest, down her throat, between her legs, and–
“Sigmar help me, I want you too!”
Her thighs tensed, her breath hitched, her eyes screwed shut, and relief came like the roll of thunder across every quivering muscle in her body as sweat dripped down her brow, between her breasts and the world seemed to fade – all except her, the wracking pleasure she knew, and Torrex in her hand.
He roared, long and loud. His hips jerked and ropes of his release splattered onto his belly. Atene felt distant and numb, and she could do nothing but watch as his stomach flexed and heaved as his cock kept pulsing and more cum kept jetting out. The scales of his underbelly were pale before but now seemed as alabaster as the marble floor beneath him. It, too, was covered in his cum.
She held him near his base. He grinded the knot against her hand. She had stopped touching herself after her release, but Torrex grumbled and the sound seemed so sweet to her, and as he writhed under her touch, he seemed again the little drake she met all those years ago.
The fingers between her sopping thighs started again. She teased her drenched lips and the swollen bud at their peak, trembling as fresh waves rolled across her quivering body.
Torrex’s musk already filled the room like the Dark Prince’s perfume, but when his hips stopped moving and his cock finally seemed to still, she took her hand from it. She watched with lidded eyes as the sheer volume of his release fell from her fingers in thick, sticky streams, then brought them close and smelled his release as if it were a bouquet of Ghyran’s sweetest flowers.
It was pungent. Electric. Like the storm itself. It was unbearably masculine.
She came again.
When her mind settled, as if floating down on clouds, and her body stopped shaking, the first thing she noticed was the sound of her own panting. She held her cum-drenched hand too close.
Her tongue was already past her lips.
Atene jerked back and forced her hand away, but it landed on her leg, staining her robes with another wet patch. His release seeped through the thin fabric and already, she felt some sliding down the sweat-slick skin of her inner thigh. She shook her head as she frantically wiped it off, but there was so much of Torrex on her that by the time her hand was clean – as clean as she could get it – it looked as if he had simply released on her chest and belly instead. The fabric was wet and stuck to her. She could see herself beneath it.
It seemed that Torrex could, too. His cock didn’t look much softer.
Atene forced herself to look away. She decided that she would burn these robes and take a very long, very private bath. She forced herself to stand. The wobble in her legs made her chest bounce and she knew Torrex was watching. Somehow, her face became even more flushed, and she turned away. “We can’t do this again.”
–
Her desperate panting was louder than his growls. She held him in both hands, stroking the entirety of his shaft as she ground herself against the smooth scales of his thigh – every rock of her hips and stroke of her arms made her chest sway and her hair fall into further disarray.
Under her breath – stifled by husky moans – she cursed him for feeling so good beneath her. She damned Dracothian for siring such a child whose smell alone could send a burning heat across her cheeks and between her legs, whose smouldering eyes were enough to make her tremble, and for giving him mind enough to learn that growling in her ear and letting his hot breath spill across her neck – even in the presence of her comrades – was enough to make her knees buckle and tear a pathetic mewl from her lips. She had to tell Erice and Veros that she was just excited for the next training exercise as Torrex’s shadow blanketed her, his heat burned against her back, and streams of arousal already leaked down her leg.
When his eyes rolled back and his hips started to buck, she squeezed the bulge at his base and teased his head. His cock swelled. She pointed it at her naked chest. Arcs of cum smacked against sweaty skin, their impact strong enough to be heard. By the time he finished, it dribbled down her hands, a thick glaze covered Atene’s breasts, ran down her belly and pooled between her thighs. It mingled with her arousal. As Torrex’s head rolled back and he softened in her hands, she finished herself on his thigh, smearing her sex with his cum.
She damned herself for not being able to stop.
—
The protection of the mortal denizens of the realms was the impetus of Sigmar’s unending crusade. It was the bravest among them and Sigmar’s own Stormcast Eternals who fought these wars. The Stormdrake Guard ended them.
It was mere moments before Atene lost her will and kneeled before Torrex that Veros barged into her chamber, and before she had even finished fastening her armour, she was on Torrex’s back, flying toward the realmgate that would lead them to their next conquest.
“Sigmar’s mercy be upon you,” Atene said. She held her hand next to her head, and clenched her fist. Torrex roared so loudly the grass beneath him trembled, and a gout of electric blue fire spewed from his maw. Thunder danced across the smoke of its edges, and the flames enveloped the fallen warrior. His flesh burned with sizzling pops and his armour melted around him. He did not scream only because Atene had already cut out his throat.
Similar scenes played across the rest of the battlefield. Where the ground was not already burned, dragons – Draconith, Stardrake, and Dracoth alike – prowled the earth and clouded skies, rendering the realm around them, and what was left of the village they were sent to save, a charred husk of dirt and bone. The influence of the Dark Gods was as subtle as it was sinister. Though the inhabitants of the village had not appreciated the Stormcasts’ work, this was the only way to purge the taint that had taken root.
Atene dropped from Torrex’s saddle. A skull broke beneath her boot.
They went to a huddled group of survivors who clung tight to one another, shirking from the Stormcast who had already found them.
“Fear not, blessed children,” Veros said. He sat atop Aremis, who perched on the bleeding remains of a goat-headed monster with more legs than Atene could count. Her claws dug into the back of an already-dead champion with iron armour and almost comically large horns on his helm. “You alone have survived by Sigmar’s will. It is His plan that this hamlet be restored, and your people flourish. You may only see a field of ash, but I see fertile grounds on which a new, brighter legacy might be–”
Atene stopped listening.
“It’s not just the ground that’s fertile,” someone said, nudging her shoulder.
Atene had to look down to see her: Erice, another member of their Stormhost, stood beside her. She was the shortest Stormcast Atene knew – hardly taller than a mortal man – and had short blonde hair and a button nose. She was a Knight-Arcanum, one of the few among the Stormcast who could channel magic. She wore the same full-body plate as Veros and Atene, but in place of a scale skirt, she had one of fine silk, cut up one side all the way to her hips. Sleeves of the same fabric covered much of her arms. Traditionally, a Knight-Arcanum wore an ornamental plate that curved around the back of their head, but Erice eschewed it, once telling Atene that, “It got in the way.” What it got in the way of, she never said.
“See the tits on that one?” Erice said, pointing at a woman in a green dress. “I don’t know why they bothered with farming. Looks like she could feed an entire Dawnbringer Crusade with those.” She nudged Atene again.
Atene prayed silent thanks to Grungi – the Dwarf god of the forge – who had given the Stormcast helmets in which their faces could not be seen. It would be rude to walk away from anyone else – Atene might have still done it – but she knew Erice would just follow. “I don’t think she’s… producing,” Atene said in a doomed attempt to end that line of conversation.
“No?” Erice asked. “She will be soon. Someone’s been hammering her Anvil of Apotheosis, if you understand my meaning.”
Atene looked at the clouds.
“Breaching her Stormkeep, if you will.”
She tried listening to Veros’ speech, which seemed far from over.
“Traversing her Realmgate,” Erice said.
Atene wondered how quickly she could make it to Torrex, and whether he’d let Erice ride him, too.
Then, Erice pulled herself up by Atene’s pauldron, whispered into her ear, and Atene cursed Grungni for these helms as the words echoed inside it. “She got fucked raw .”
Atene jumped in place and a shiver went down her spine.
Erice giggled like a child who’d been caught stealing sweets. “I can feel the wind of life, and it’s coalescing in that bitch’s belly. In fact…” Erice brought her hand up. A green shimmer spread between her fingers. She snapped.
The woman in the green dress yelped. The other villagers must have been as bored of Veros’ speech as Atene, as they all turned to her. Her face was as red as the blood pooling in the dirt. She looked down. Everyone else did, too. Two dark patches stained the chest of her dress. Little droplets of white leaked out and ran down the heavy curve of her chest. She gave a panicked look to everyone around her, whimpered, then slapped her hands over her breasts and ran to the nearest pile of smouldering wood to hide behind.
Veros cleared his throat. “I was going to say the next step would be rebuilding, then repopulating, but… I suppose I should applaud you all for being ahead of schedule. Well done.” The villagers dispersed, more men than likely necessary following the leaking woman, and Veros came beside them. “Was that necessary?” he asked Erice.
“It was a blessing,” she said.
“I’m sure she’ll be receiving plenty more blessings. I think I can hear some of them now.”
Atene tried to ignore how the wood pile started to shake.
“Atene,” Veros said.
“Sir?”
“Your synchronicity with Torrex is commendable as ever, but your bladework was sloppy. You left one of them alive.”
“Where?”
“Right behind you.”
The warrior wore polished plate stained with blood, molded in the shape of bare musculature. A deep gash tore into his shoulder, yet he hefted a jagged axe in the other hand. “Sigmarite whore!” He shouted. “I’ll fuck you till you bleed! Walking cunt! I’ll break you on my–”
Erice flicked her wrist. A root erupted from the dirt, curled around his waist, and dragged him, screaming, into the earth.
Atene lowered her blade. “I could have taken him”.
“Oh, I’m sure you could,” Erice purred.
Atene gave all her thanks to Grungni for the helmet she wore.
“You didn’t account for the chance of his survival,” Veros said. “Remember that, next time. The only thing more important than a sharp blade–”
“Is a sharper mind,” she mumbled.
Veros nodded, and Aremis took off. They disappeared behind smoke and clouds.
“If there’s anything he’s not teaching you,” Erice wrapped her arms around Atene’s, “I’d be happy to give you some… private tutoring.” She batted her eyelashes.
“I’m… busy.”
“Doing what?”
—
Atene squeezed her thighs tight around Torrex’s cock, squishing her sex against it. Her clit pressed into his knot, rubbing against every curve and vein, their combined arousal steaming in the cool air and turning their hips into a slick, sopping mess. Torrex thrusted – his member slid between Atene’s hands and stomach. Her fingers alone had never been enough. Not for either of them.
After a day of such intense training that the sweat turned her robes sheer and stuck them to every curve of her body, Atene hadn’t even finished peeling them off before she was upon Torrex, forcing him to lay down. She rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips. She hadn’t noticed when their sexes first touched. But she felt a furnace heat against her apex and when she saw that she pleasured herself not on his thigh, but his rigid, pulsing girth, she groaned and came harder than she ever had before.
She had taken him like this ever since.
She looked between her tits at the tapered head of his cock as it slid past her fingers, almost to her chest.
It would never fit.
It would kill a mortal woman.
But she wasn’t mortal, was she?
She bit her lip and squeezed him harder. Torrex roared. His cum splattered against her, streaking the skin of her chest and collar. A spurt hit her jaw then rolled down her neck. The thick ropes jetted into the air before falling into her hair, against her shoulders and back, even reaching as far as her ass.
Atene could have laughed at the absurdity of it. She could have seen reason and run from her chamber to Sigmar’s throne and prostrated herself before him, so that he might deliver the punishment a debased creature such as herself deserved. But her body trembled in perverse delight. The last of his climax surged through the air and hit her face – it landed across her lips and nose, even reaching above her eye. It dribbled down, and she forced it shut. Atene sputtered and tried to clean herself with the back of her hand. It was a futile effort, she already knew, as she only smeared it over more skin. She shook her head and grimaced, leaving the pale streaks staining her face. Torrex grumbled. It sounded like he was laughing.
“I hope you’re enjoying this more than I am,” Atene said. As she spoke, some of his cum slipped past her lips and onto her tongue. She spat it out and made a show of looking disgusted but, to her surprise, she didn’t mind the taste.