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Journey

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In Whitestone Castle, on a sturdy bed, Percy watches as Vex spreads her legs before him, her wicked grin caught in the soft flicker of the fireplace. She looks up at him from underneath her lashes. He crawls between her legs as she tightens her archery-strong fingers in his hair. He smells her, tastes her, his tongue pressed against her folds.

"Good. Just like that," she murmurs, voice careless, lazy in the way it gets when she's relaxed, when she's in total ease with herself and her surroundings. She's had so little relaxation in her life, he knows. It's thrilling to be the one to give it to her. Percy just wants to give her everything, anything she wants.

This castle is an old place, full of old feelings. Memories of being a quiet, lonely boy within these walls. She shakes when he presses against just the right spot, and he is drawn out of the past back into the present where he belongs.

---

On the wind-swept plateaus of Zephra, surrounded by gray rock and rolling green forests, he blushes as she drags him towards an empty crevasse, away from where her brother and Keyleth are holding a town hall to discuss important matters with the Air Ashari.

She giggles at the way Percy glances over his shoulder, nervous about being seen. For all her efforts, he's still the reserved nobleman, too wrapped up in his own idea of propriety. "Come
on, darling," she says.

She hooks an ankle around the back of Percy's knee, draws him into a delicate kiss. It smells earthy and dark here, like mountains and stone. "Are you sure?" he asks, a little breathless. She can feel his hardness where he's pressed against her.

"Having second thoughts?" She traces one finger along his jaw, shaved clean, feels a muscle there tense and jump. So much hidden away, so much that she's only been allowed to see glimpses of.

"About you? Never," he says. He thrusts forward, pressure just where she wants it. A delightful shiver spreads through her body.

"Good," she says, and then she kisses him.

--

In the dry heat of Ank'Harel, he brushes her hair away from her face as she presses her lips to his shoulder, to the swell of his stomach, to the hard bone of his ribs. She doesn't sweat in the heat the way he does-- that Elven blood, maybe. She licks his sternum, probably tastes the dried salt on his skin. She bites down on his chest, hard enough that she'll leave a mark. He'll carry it with him when they visit the bazaar tomorrow, watching her as she haggles with every single vendor they come across, a reminder that he can keep and cherish.

She moves lower, engulfs his cock in the wet heat of her mouth. His hips buck, entirely against his will. He blushes. The red must show on his skin, because her eyes are bright with silent laughter.

Her clever tongue rolls against him, and he clutches at her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, trying to find some purchase, some bit of stability.

But as if he were trapped in the shifting sands of the desert, he finds none. All he can do is be swept away by the sensation, completely at her mercy.

---

In a shaded clearing of Whitestone Forest, she presses him onto the soft, overgrown grass. It tickles at their bare arms, their bare legs. After prowling these woods for months as Mistress of the Grey Hunt, this particular scent, of leaves and earth and wood, feels like home for her. She doesn't know if it's the same for Percy. He's a creature of his library, his workroom.

Her hands are on his shoulders. Her legs are straddling his lap. She's wet -- so wet -- as she slides onto him, as his hardness fills her inch by delicious inch. His moan is breathy, barely even audible over the chirping birds, the buzzing of insects, the rustle of wind through leaves.

"I've caught you," she whispers. She is a hunter, a creature of wildness and woods, and he has been her prey, something longed after and desired even when it felt impossible and too ridiculous to even be considered. "I've caught you, and now I get to keep you."

He cracks a smile, a tender thing that seems foreign on his face. He rests his hands on her hips, thrusts up where she wants him most. "Yes," he says. "Yes."