Everything from the waist down ached.
Imoen groaned as she lowered herself on the grass. Walking! This trip had taken a decided unglamorous turn. Didn't adventurers usually have horses? She could really use a horse. Or would that just result in her butt aching instead of her feet?
She grumbled to herself as she unlaced her shoes. She was very grateful that they didn't chafe, but after walking those dry, dusty roads all day, it was a wonder they haven't caught fire.
She had found a nice location a ways from the camp, where a small river had carved a furrow for itself, the water rippling lazily in the still night air.
She threw her shoes aside and rolled up the legs on her trousers, then plunged her feet into the water.
This, she decided, and let herself fall back, folding her arms under her head and looking up at the clear, starry sky above, was the best thing that had happened to her all day.
Not that there was much competition.
Walking. You'd think by now they'd at least be able to afford a cart. They wouldn't even need to buy horses; Jaheira could probably convince a moose or something to pull it for them.
The image made her smile. She could just imagine the looks they'd get rolling into Beregost like that.
Being an adventurer was hard work. Oh, sure, she'd known that already, but it was so grimy. Maybe she had been away from the world for too long. Oh, she barely remembered the time before she was brought to the Keep, but she did remember being overwhelmed at first. Fresh food! Clean sheets! And then she got used to it, and now that she was back outside, everything seemed so... bleak.
She kicked idly at the water, sending droplets flying. It was probably better than this, usually - when the region wasn't on the brink of war, and when things weren't... well, crumbling. Literally.
She sighed. This was her time. Thinking about the futility of life could wait. She stretched her arms over her head and sat up, then began to massage her aching legs.
This was just what she needed. Just resting her legs felt good, but giving the sore muscles a good kneading was pure bliss. The water was cool, not cold against her skin, and the sound of the river's gentle flow was calm and soothing.
As much as she might complain, this life wasn't so bad. She had always wanted to go out and see the world, and while she had hoped for more pleasant circumstances - and less walking - it had been very interesting so far. She had met all sorts of people, and some of them hadn't even tried to stick pointy objects in her. Some of them had been... rather attractive.
She paused with her hands resting on her thighs. Looked around to make sure she was alone, and pulled her belt open. She toyed with the lining of her trousers for a few moments, still debating whether it was worth continuing, but the fluttering sensation in her belly told her it was.
Slowly, she eased a hand in under the thick cloth, sliding further down, in between her thighs.
She didn't do this often. The keep wasn't a place for privacy, and the road even less so. She did have a small room to herself, back at Candlekeep, but the door had no lock and even when it was closed, visitors would open it without knocking as often as not. She had tried to hide in the stables, in the deepest, darkest corners behind the bales of hay, but once she got there, the scent of horses quickly overpowered her urges, and she had ended up leaving unfulfilled.
Here, there was no one to interrupt her, and she couldn't let this opportunity slip her by.
Still, she took another quick look around, before pulling up the hem of her shirt, tucked it between her teeth and chewed it absently while her fingers worked below. Still, she was only down under the first layer, her fingers sliding over her panties. The texture of cotton felt rough compared to the skin below, but she wasn't quite ready for a more direct touch yet.
But she was getting there.
Slowly, her body began to respond to the touch. A tingling sensation spread from her fingers and deeper inside, up her spine and down her legs. She bit down harder on the cloth between her teeth and pulled her fingers up a bit, ready to slide them in under her panties.
Someone chuckled. A deep, rich sound, strong and feminine, that Imoen felt she should recognize, but her first reaction was still to fumble for the short sword she still did not feel comfortable wearing. The second belt that held the weapon was the first thing she had dropped when she came here, and it took a few seconds to find it.
Then she stopped with the blade half drawn.
Out of the water rose a shadow, short and slender and crowned with silver. As she watched, the shadow reached up, did something she couldn't see, and bright white hair came tumbling down across its shoulders.
Imoen drew a deep breath, loosening her grip on the weapon a little, but without sheathing it. "Hi," she said, and winced. She wasn't sure what embarrassed her the most, being caught with her pants down - figuratively speaking - or the fact that she had allowed someone to sneak up on her like that. Whichever took the first place, her inability to come up with something to say was only a distant third.
There was no reply from the dark elf, just the faint noise of the river as she came closer, hips swaying, dark skin glistening in the starlight. Something glinted on her chest, bright and metallic, but Imoen couldn't make out what it was
She caught herself holding her breath. Her right hand lay limp on the hilt of the half-drawn sword, and her left still held on to the scabbard, and there she remained until the drow stood right in front of her.
Viconia bent gracefully and took her hand, pulled it away from the sword and raised it, and then she felt something hot, wet against her fingertips. And Viconia smiled a predatory grin.
"Sweet girl," she whispered, her breath curiously distinct against Imoen's wet fingers. "You could learn much from a woman's touch."
Imoen gaped. She was pretty sure she wasn't dreaming, and still...
Gently, Viconia lowered her arm, let go and placed her hands on Imoen's knees, then slid slowly up.
"Few surfacers are ever offered such a lesson. Or are you content with your hand, cold and alone?" Her hands slid a little higher still.
Imoen... hesitated. Viconia was beautiful. Beautiful in the inhuman, ethereal, graceful manner of all elves, but more so. But she was also cruel and capricious, and her eyes were hard, cold like steel, even when she smiled.
As cold as her eyes may be, her hands were surprisingly warm and gentle. Lightly caressing her legs, thumbs stroking her inner thighs, never very close to where Imoen's own fingers were moments earlier, but close enough.
The touch tingled, but it wasn't much like the feeling of her own hands at all.
Viconia smiled down at her with her cold, grey eyes, and Imoen realized that she wouldn't resist, that she would accept whatever the drow was about to do to her.
And Viconia knew.
Ebon lips parted, a dark tongue darting between them, moistening them.
"Lie on your back," she commanded.
Staring into Viconia's eyes, Imoen lowered herself to the river bank. Her shirt was still in disarray, bunched around her waist, and the grass was cool against her lower back, but she soon forgot the minor discomfort when Viconia followed, hovered over her on hands and knees. Her long white hair spilled across her shoulders like liquid silver, and the water still clinging to her velvety black skin glittered like stars, as if she were a piece of the night sky. The metallic glint she had seen earlier was a silver stud through the drow's left nipple, and without thinking, Imoen reached for it, dragging her index finger over the metal, and... and the flesh that surrounded it.
Viconia's eyes narrowed.
"How bold of you. Perhaps you are less cowardly than I thought."
If it was supposed to be a compliment, it wasn't a very good one, but it was probably more than Imoen had ever expected. "Did this hurt a lot?" she asked, and gave the stud another cautious prod.
Then she gasped at a sudden jolt of pain in her own left nipple, and looked down to see Viconia pinching her through her shirt.
"What do you think, girl?" Imoen whimpered as the drow began to roll the sensitive bud between her dark fingers. "That I screamed in ecstasy when the needle pierced my flesh?"
Imoen shook her head, wincing. Her body felt - strange. Viconia was hurting her, but there was something else, something beyond that pain, like butterflies in her stomach. She shifted where she lay, her thighs rubbing together, and wondered, not for the first time, if she really knew what she was getting into.
And Viconia let go.
"Pain," she said, and her voice was softer now, "is something you learn to endure."
There was a short moment of silence. "Touch it," Viconia whispered, tiny pinpricks of red light glowing in her eyes. And she took Imoen's hand and brought it up to her breast once more. Not just a fingertip this time, but filling her hand with soft, yet firm flesh, warm and silken to the touch.
Imoen felt the tips of her ears flush, but did not pull back, even when Viconia let go of her hand.
So soft, and then the smooth, hard metal against the middle of her palm.
Barely hesitating, she raised her left hand and cupped Viconia's other breast.
The stud made it hard to tell, but here, there was no doubt that the dark elf's nipples were hard. Maybe it was just from the cool water - and maybe not.
Cautiously, she squeezed the twin mounds in her hands, and the glow in Viconia's eyes deepened.
"Yes," she whispered, and arched her back, pressing her breasts down into Imoen's hands.
Imoen winced when she felt Viconia's hand on her chest once more, but there was no pain this time, just a soft pressure, and when Viconia's fingers found her nipple again, they did not pinch or twist, but stroked and coaxed, and the sensation she had suspected before came back, soft and fluttering, like the purling of the river.
Viconia smiled when she attempted to mimic the touch, and this time it seemed almost friendly.
"You are learning."
Imoen licked her lips and squirmed a little. "That... 's because you are teaching," she said, only stumbling a little on the words, and circled the dark elf's nipples with her thumbs. The difference between them was fascinating - the unbroken skin, and the metal piercing. After warming Viconia's skin for this long with her hands, she could probably rule out the cold, and that was - that was a good thing.
And what Viconia was doing to her, that was definitely a good thing, too.
She couldn't believe she'd never realized how good this felt.
To think she had almost missed out on this.
Now she realized that she wanted more. To be touched, not just there, but in other places as well; to be held, and maybe Viconia could see something new in her expression, because just as she was thinking about it, the hand on her breast pulled back.
Imoen, too, stopped, and looked up quizzically at the dark elf.
"Strip," Viconia ordered, and rose gracefully, leaving Imoen on her back with her hands grasping at the air, feeling somewhat silly.
But it was only fair. She had been looking at Viconia's naked body all along - her gorgeous naked body - and all she had shown was her legs from the knees down and a bit of her midriff as her shirt rode up.
The air was pleasantly cool against her skin as she pulled the shirt over her head, and the cloth sliding over her skin made her shiver. Not just her breasts, everything seemed more sensitive than usual, and she couldn't help but wonder if Viconia had done something to her, some drow trick, but - no, that couldn't be; there was no magic, no poison at work here. Just deft fingers, and the promise of more.
She did her best not to look at Viconia while she pulled her clothes off. Folded her shirt before going on to the trousers; rolled down the legs before stepping out of them, then folded them as well before turning to the drow, allowing the other woman to take in the sight of her naked body.
Viconia grinned, and did just that. Imoen felt her cheeks heat as the drow's gaze roamed hungrily across her exposed skin.
"Excellent," Viconia decreed, at last, and stepped closer. She hadn't thought of it before, but this close, Imoen realized that the dark elf was the shorter of them. It didn't prevent her from being vaguely unsettling, even now, but the small sting of fear only served to excite her.
Viconia, unaware of her thoughts, stopped just before she came close enough to press her chest against Imoen's. "Your second lesson. You grow impatient. Your body desires more, and you would indulge it." Imoen began to open her mouth, but stopped. She couldn't deny it. Viconia grinned wider, and Imoen jumped as she felt two fingers sliding down between her legs, stroking the outer lips of her sex, sliding easily over sensitive skin, then disappearing again. Viconia held up her hand; the first two fingers glistened in the starlight. "You will realize that the wait makes the release all the much sweeter. Open your mouth."
Imoen hesitated. Then yelped as Viconia's other hand came up to pinch her left nipple again, harder this time.
"Your mouth," Viconia demanded, and Imoen complied as she felt sharp nails beginning to dig into her unprotected skin.
Viconia's grin returned as she slid her slick fingers between Imoen's lips and against her tongue.
"Your second lesson," she said, and thrust lazily, her long, slender, dextrous fingers toying with Imoen's tongue. But rather than continue, she fell silent and slowly began to pull back, and finally let her hand fall.
Imoen's initial reaction to it all - the fingers exploring her mouth, the scent and taste of herself - had been vaguely disgusted. But there had been something deeply sensual both about the sensation of those fingers caressing her, and the vulnerability of them between her teeth, and as for the taste, it had been - tangy, a little salty, and just a little sweet. It was unusual, but far from bad, and now she found herself wondering how Viconia would taste.
"What..." She drew a deep breath and licked her lips; Viconia had left them wet with spit and slick. "What's that?"
Viconia's expression was mildly disapproving, as though the answer should have been obvious. "Your tongue."
And perhaps the answer should Have been obvious. Her tongue - she suddenly felt even more aware of its presence in her mouth. "I, um..."
"Down," Viconia commanded, and soon Imoen was back on the ground with Viconia above her, the dark elf's silky white hair caressing her skin.
"Your tongue can bring a woman untold pleasure," Viconia said, as she slowly moved down. "Or even a man, should you deem it necessary."
"Um," Imoen repeated, and gasped before she could say anything more. Viconia had bowed her head, and now the drow's tongue was circling lazily on her right breast - strong and hot, leaving a cold trail behind it as saliva cooled on her skin. Circling - no, spiralling, slowly moving in towards a nipple already stiff with arousal and anticipation.
Imoen whimpered softly and raised her hands to brush aside Viconia's long, white hair, loosely gathering it behind the drow's head so she could see what was happening.
Viconia's eyes glowed hotly up at her, burning with an almost frightening intensity. Dark flesh danced on pale skin, leaving a glittering trail in its wake. Imoen chewed her lower lip and resisted the urge to use her grip to steer Viconia's attention to where she needed it, resisted the urge to sneak her other hand down between her thighs, and curled her fingers in the tall grass underneath her instead, digging into the soil. Changed her mind and grasped Viconia's arm instead; then began to stroke the slender limb, enjoying the warm, velvet skin of the drow against her palm.
When nothing she did caused Viconia to react, she grew bolder, let her hand travel farther, up over Viconia's shoulder and back; toyed with her hair.
And finally, Viconia's tongue met the aching bud of her nipple.
Imoen purred and arched her back, fingers tightening their grip on Viconia's hair as the sensation rippled through her body, leaving a fizzy sensation in its wake. Up into her head, where it made little fuzzy lights pop before her eyes. Down through her belly and legs, where it made her toes curl and the soles of her feet tingle.
Viconia just smirked and began to suck at her breast, touching her with lips and tongue and teeth, until it seemed the sensation would send her into throes of orgasmic bliss all by itself, and for some time, Imoen lay there, trembling occasionally, her body limp and heavy, her eyes closed, and allowed it to course through her.
She whimpered in disappointment when Viconia finally stopped and began to lick and kiss her way up, first to her shoulder, then to her neck, then further up. Each little kiss, each nudge of the drow's tongue sent more twinges of pleasure through her, but they were smaller, weaker, and they did not echo as the previous touch had done. She shuddered when Viconia nipped at her earlobe, and again when the drow whispered next to her ear, breath hot against moist skin: "It is not enough for you. You desire more."
"Please," Imoen whispered back, not really sure what she was asking for, but absolutely certain that Viconia knew.
The drow purred. "Are you desperate for release?"
Imoen nodded mutely. She was - desperate, maybe; all she knew was that she had kept holding on to Viconia's hair, probably hurting her, but she had to keep holding on because she didn't know what she'd do if her hands were free. "Please," she breathed, and finally untangled her fingers and let her hands fall.
Her eyes still closed, she could not see Viconia's reaction, but she felt the feather-light touch of the drow's hair sweeping down her body, past her breasts this time, past her stomach, and down to her hips.
A hand slid in between her thighs, just above the knees, and firmly pushed her right leg out to the side. Then, it repeated the procedure with the left leg, leaving her open and vulnerable, with the night breeze cool on her heated skin.
She opened her eyes again as she felt a touch against the dark, damp curls over her sex; found a single pitch-black finger petting her as one might a small animal.
"Next," Viconia whispered, and lowered her head.
Imoen couldn't hold back a deep moan at the touch of the dark elf's tongue against her sex - not even against her clit, but simply parting her outer lips, sliding softly against the inner.
She was - wet. Must be dripping, almost. Couldn't remember ever being so aroused, so desperate - and yes, she was desperate, she couldn't deny it, not now.
Viconia's tongue between her legs. Untold pleasure. Already sparks were dancing before her eyes; her head felt light and her body heavy, and the blood rushing through her veins with each rapid heartbeat roared in her ears.
Vaguely, she became aware of Viconia's hands, slowly sliding up her thighs, their touch teasingly light, nails and fingertips brushing thin, sensitive skin; her entire body shuddered and she dug her heels into the soil below, grabbed large fistfuls of grass and whimpered powerlessly.
Viconia's hands reached the top of her legs and she felt slender fingers spreading her open, giving that amazing tongue room to flick and stroke, thrust and caress. Viconia pushed against her entrance with the tip of her tongue, thrust into her rapidly, a slick, wet noise accompanying each push; then slid out and up and barely, just barely made contact with her clit, and -
Her last coherent thought was that she mustn't scream, she couldn't scream, they weren't that far from camp and she'd be heard, but in the end she couldn't be certain if she managed to keep her voice in check.
Viconia nudged her clit, and Imoen knew nothing more. Not for a long time, not until she lay panting, nearly sobbing after the immense release, her entire body seeming to sing, and -
Viconia was still between her thighs, tongue working slowly, pushing her helplessly along, into a second earth-shaking orgasm.
And Imoen came, and came, and came until she no longer cared if she howled out her pleasure for the whole Sword Coast to hear.
The next thing she became aware of was Viconia kneeling over her once more - her mouth and chin wet and glistening, and with a satisfied little smirk on her lips.
"I believe the lesson is well learned."
Finding her mouth dry, Imoen could only nod, and then shudder as Viconia stroked between her thighs, just a single, slow caress that nevertheless set of fireworks in her head.
"Remember it the next you lie with one of your pathetic human males and he fails to please you."
She should leave it be, but she had been around humans all her life, and few of them had actually been truly unpleasant. Imoen licked her lips and cleared her throat, and, after a few tries, managed to speak.
"Humans... aren't all bad, you kn- oh."
Viconia's fingers had started to circle once more, brushing against her overstimulated clit and making her entire body fizz and pop, and the drow looked down at her with a bemused expression. Imoen chewed her lip. It was hard to find the words, harder to speak them, and rather than let up and allow her to gather her thoughts, Viconia increased her efforts.
"What was that? I could not understand you through your mewlings of pleasure."
"W- well, I was just - saying how the big bad drow needed - ah - needed us-" Imoen swallowed and licked her lips again, her vision swimming. "Needed us humans to save her from the. From the. From the mean, nasty guard-aah!" Viconia flicked a nail over her clit. Imoen's entire body twitched and spasmed, overloaded with sensation, and bright white light exploded before her eyes, burning away every conscious thought, everything she had been about to say; so intense that she couldn't say if it was pain or pleasure coursing through her.
"Yes?" Viconia demanded, lips close to her ear.
Imoen shook her head. "Nothin'," she managed; a short, breathlessly gasping sound. She couldn't take more of this - wasn't sure she could even manage to put her panties back on, she was so sensitive.
Viconia just smirked and pulled her hand back.
"Next, you will demonstrate what you have learned."
Imoen blinked up at her, still disoriented, and Viconia once more eased a slippery finger between her lips, allowing her to taste herself. Oh, Imoen realized as she sucked at the intruding finger.
Viconia smirked as she pulled back. "Rise."
It took several attempts, and in the end, Viconia had to nearly pull her up to her knees.
"Now," the drow continued. "Show me."
Blushing nervously, Imoen placed her hands on the dark elf's hips. "Like... like this?" she wondered, and lowered her head to press her lips against Viconia's shoulder.
Viconia seemed unusually stiff as Imoen began to wrap her arms around her, but did not resist, and Imoen, bolder now, began to lick, kiss and nip at her velvety black skin.
This close, Viconia's beauty seemed even more obvious. Her slender form was perfectly sculpted, her skin smooth and supple, with far less scars than Imoen would have expected. Even those were smooth and well healed, and nearly invisible in the faint light. Her breasts were large for an elf, though not much more than average for a human; soft and firm, and very sensitive, judging by the way Viconia's breath quickened when Imoen suckled her pierced nipple, tugging softly at the stud with her teeth.
She couldn't resist pulling back for a bit, looked up into Viconia's glowing eyes and asked, as innocently as she could muster: "Am I doing well?"
"Well enough," Viconia replied, and pushed her back down against her chest.
Imoen grinned and tightened her arms around the drow, ran her fingers over her back as she kissed her way between Viconia's breasts, alternating between flesh and metal and flesh alone.
Even when Viconia grew impatient and began to push her further down, Imoen still hadn't been able to figure out which she liked better.
It had been easy enough to kiss Viconia's breasts, but as she sank lower, Imoen began to feel cramped, straining her neck to reach, and by the time she reached the drow's belly, it was distinctly uncomfortable. Wincing slightly, she pulled back and straightened her back.
"Maybe you should lie down," she suggested.
But rather than lie down, Viconia stood up, not quite as gracefully as before.
"This should be sufficient," she said, and fisted a hand in Imoen's hair, pulling her closer.
Lips pressed against Viconia's lower belly, Imoen wrapped her arms around the drow's thighs, fingers splayed over Viconia's firmly rounded behind. "I still think it would be better if you lay down," she said, and sucked at the taut skin in front of her, but something told her Viconia wasn't going to play around. Probably enjoyed the sight of her on her knees, or something.
"Tongue," Viconia reminded her, and pushed her further down.
Viconia's scent was not like her own - musky and feminine, but somehow not entirely human. Not surprising, perhaps, but fascinating... and enticing.
The dark elf's sex was smooth and hairless, and her outer lips glistened in the starlight, wet and slightly parted - ready for her.
Carefully, Imoen stuck her tongue out and ran it slowly across one smooth lip.
Viconia's grip on her hair tightened, and Imoen smiled to herself.
Next, her tongue went deeper, parting Viconia's folds and circling her entrance, and Viconia's hips moved against her, as if urging her on.
Viconia's skin was coal black even here, and even softer, even smoother than the rest of her body, but apart from that, they were remarkably similar down there, and though Imoen had been - distracted from the earlier lesson, she needed no help locating Viconia's clitoris and sealing her lips over it.
Viconia drew a ragged breath as she made contact, and the grip on her hair tightened even further, almost pulling her away from her task, but Imoen tightened her grip on Viconia's behind in response and brought her tongue up a little faster, a little harder than before. She narrowed it as much as she could and pushed in under the hood, bumping directly against the sensitive little bud underneath, and Viconia gasped and shuddered in her arms, gripping her hair with both hands.
Imoen smiled and began to work in earnest, trying to remember what Viconia had done to her earlier, and when the memories grew hazy, she improvised. Drew circles with her tongue; drew letters; wrote her name, then Viconia's - then her own again and noted with glee that the drow responded stronger to that than her own name.
It had been wonderful to feel Viconia doing this to her, but she couldn't say that it had been better than tasting Viconia in turn and feeling her gasp, writhe and shudder, even when her jaw and tongue ached from the unfamiliar exercise.
Imoen, she painted with her tongue, and Viconia's slick, sensitive skin was her canvas.
Imoen, she wrote, and Viconia made a soft whimpering noise, her back arching sharply, her legs trembling.
Imoen, she wrote, and Viconia grew still and silent, every muscle in her body rigid.
Viconia came in utter silence, trembling and shuddering, hands shaking where they gripped Imoen's hair, her sex pulsing under the human girl's tongue.
And Imoen just smiled and kept writing her name.
Not until her orgasm abated did Viconia begin to breathe again, deeply and rapidly; she leaned against Imoen for a few moments, then stepped back, untangling her fingers and let her hands fall.
Imoen allowed her hands to fall as well, and slid a finger lazily back and forth between her legs as she watched Viconia's heaving chest, her exquisitely sculpted body gleaming with sweat.
With the scent and taste of Viconia still fresh on her tongue, the sight of her sated and exhausted in front of her, it didn't take her long to come. It wasn't anything like before, nothing thundering, deafening and blinding, but a comfortable ripple coiling through her, making her shudder just once, then settle down, satisfied and content.
"I guess I passed, huh?" she said after a few moments, when the silence began to feel uncomfortable.
Viconia smiled thinly. "Undoubtedly, mrimmd'ssinss."
"Um..." She wasn't sure what to say. What should you say after something like this? It wasn't as if she had experience with these things.
"Bathe, girl. Quickly. They will come looking for you if you remain gone much longer."
And that was that, Imoen supposed. She began to pull herself up, and now everything ached, not just her legs - but it was a good kind of ache.
She turned to the river, still flowing as it had when she first arrived, unaware of what had just happened on its bank.
When she turned away, Viconia had already disappeared.
Imoen bathed quickly, washing the sweat, dirt and... other things from her body; dried off half-heartedly and pulled on the fresh shirt and underwear she had brought along before heading back to camp.
The fire was still burning, a little lower than before. No one spoke as she sat down as close to the flames as possible, allowing the heat to wash over her.
"It is quite irresponsible to wander off into the forest alone so late at night," came a familiar voice from somewhere behind her.
Imoen turned to the sound of the voice, but all that was visible were two pinpricks of red light glowing at her from under a large tree.
"One can encounter dangerous things in the dark," Viconia continued, sounding rather bored and uninterested.
Imoen stuck her tongue out. "I can give as good as I get."
There was a brief pause, and a chuckle, almost entirely without malice.
"Perhaps you can, girl," said the drow.
"...perhaps you can."