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Taking Back What's Ours ( Jan & Vulgrim )

Vulgrim

Vulgrim

Star
Joined
May 9, 2014
It'd been weeks since Therian had set foot in to his own home -- weeks, though it felt like years, if not decades. When the man came through the doors, he was by his lonesome, tired and weak and stripped of everything but the rags on his back. Since the occupation of their once-great city, Therian hadn't seen his wife at all. He'd been a prisoner to the humans, forced to rot in the dungeons of Sylvos -- the dungeons that'd formerly housed criminals and traitors... now it was home to soldiers and innocent men.

Therian looked worse for wear. His body was still strong, as was his will. They hadn't managed to break him. But he looked tired, his once-warm and friendly eyes hard and distant now. After weeks of facing execution in the jails, he'd been stripped of his rank and freed, spared only because of the respect the humans had for him as a renowned soldier. Respect. Therian scoffed. The humans didn't know the meaning of the word. They were brutes, all of them, obsessed with war and taking things that didn't belong to them.

"Sylvia," Therian called out weakly, making it halfway through the den of their rather large home before being forced to stop and rest on a table in the hallway. Though he hadn't held a sword in his hand for weeks, he wasn't without his injuries; the men had whipped him good during his time in the dungeons, and he had scars that would never fade away along his back and his arms, a few bloodied bandages covering him here or there. It felt so strange to just be home again, like nothing had ever happened.

Too much had happened...
 
The war had been hard on everyone. When the first wave of soldiers had left the city, things had been hard on those they had left behind, but such was the nature of life for them. They were a warring race, and it was their nature to sometimes say goodbye to their husbands and fathers. They understood that some of those farewells would be final farewells, but this pain was balanced by the knowledge that the knew their warriors would be victorious, and that they would bring home enough of the fruits of their labor to dampen the sadness of widows and orphans. Besides, the bravest warriors, the most glorious among them, would be proud to take on secondary wives and families.

But this time, there were no glorious warriors. There were no treasures brought home. That was because, for the first time in history, the warriors of Sylvos had lost.

The pain must have driven many of them to suicide, down in the dungeons. And even those who hadn't killed themselves were often killed by humans for refusing to say the words. Those two, simple words. "I yield." They were the boundary between life and death, and, for many, the boundary between honor and dishonor. And even now, weeks after the final battle had been lost, it looked like many had chosen death over dishonor. So few of their people were out in the streets, now. So vanishingly few. And the markets, the shops, the businesses that had once been the life and pride of the city, they had all been seized by the humans...

Perhaps that was the worst of it. All of the humans, acting so high and mighty. They weren't rude to her face--not usually, anyway--but their inane cultural norms were now written into law. Perhaps that was the worst of it. She used to go around in the traditional attire for her people, a dress that showed her cleavage and her lean pale belly and her thighs, and not much else. What was wrong with it? It displayed her attractivity, and that was the point of clothes, weren't they? Other than to hide the details of just how attractive she was.

But now she had to wear a full dress, and a scarf that served as a hood and covered much of her hair and face. Her curves were still undeniable, and visible, but going around so locked up, so hidden away from the world... and it would be worse when she saw her husband again. When they went out again together, just what would he have to show off? A woman who, like the rest of them, now dressed like a monk?

That was... if her husband made it back at all. And after so many weeks of hearing not a word from the new government, nor any of those he had once counted as his comrades... she shut her eyes. And then, transferring the basket of fruit she carried to her left hand so that she could open the door, she entered her house. Perhaps that was the one safe place she had, the one source of pride in her life, the beautiful lovely house she and her husband had purchased, right near the center of the city, and... and...

That posture. That fair straight hair. Those scars...

The basket in her hand fell. But she paid it no mind as she strode to her husband and threw his arm over her shoulders. Easily supporting his weight, she ferried him to a couch. The next minutes she spent replacing each and every one of the bandages he wore with fresh ones. Her words were soft, soothing even, and when she was finished, she lay beside him with her head on his chest. as she had once done, when he was still a proud warrior.
 
When his wife returned home, Therian wasn't sure what to say -- there wasn't really anything to be said. Words were not enough. And so when she came to him, he accepted her help, like all good husbands should do. He leaned heavily against his wife and allowed her to carry his burdens, if only for a short while. Therian was weak. His body was still strong, his heart was still strong... but his mind, it was slipping. He was still was intelligent as he had always been, but the spark in his eyes... it was gone, replaced with guilt, with defeat, with shame...

The man grimaced as she treated him, and he couldn't meet her gaze. Those scars were a permanent reminder of his defeat, of the defeat of their people. Finally, after his dressings had been replaced, Therian lay with his wife in the den of their home, too tired to try and move towards their bed. His fingers ran through her pale hair, though his hands trembled, and Therian couldn't say he exactly knew why. He didn't feel nervous, or excited, or anxious... perhaps he'd been scarred in more ways than one.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, speaking for the first time in weeks. She could hear the tears in his voice, but Therian's eyes were dry. "I'm sorry, Sylvia. I've failed you -- failed myself, failed our people." He looked down at her beautiful face, then down at what she was wearing, two fingers pinching the material of her scarf. He frowned. "Why do you wear this?" But Therian already knew the answer. He set his jaw. "Your beauty shouldn't be hidden from the world; the world should embrace it."
 
For a moment, all was right in the world again. They were newlyweds, teenagers even, too lost in their own embrace for the rest of the world to matter again. Then he shattered that precious moment by speaking. She tilted her head up to look at him, her dainty feather soft fingers caressing his arm. Their skin, hair and eyes were precisely the same color... at least they were. Now, Therian's eyes were bloodshot and bruised, and cuts lined most of his body. And even their race's fabled healing factors wouldn't erase them all...

She felt herself blush at his touch, when he tugged at her scarf. When he failed to remove it from her, she did it herself. Her hair was so pale and straight and thick that it nearly hurt to look at. Her perfectly symmetrical nose, her fair eyes, her perfect face... she was almost too beautiful to be real. Even for a Sylvan, she was almost too beautiful to be real.

The considerable firm curve of her breast pressed against the taper of his torso as she kissed his powerful defined jawline.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she said in a voice that was both soft and firm at the same time. "Nothing. Your scars are badges of honor and proof of your bravery. You could have fought down to your last drop of blood," she accepted, "but why? To leave me alone forever?" She shook her head and caressed his fingers with her hand.

"It was bad enough being alone for these past months," she said. "To have you back here, with me, where you belong... that's what's important."

She brought his fingers to her mouth for a few velvet soft kisses. Her eyes were closed for most of them, but when she finished, she looked up at him with an almost shy, chaste question in her eyes. He was back at last, and now, if he wasn't too tired... she was going to welcome him home.
 
When she leaned up to kiss him, Therian's eyes fluttered shut and he sighed gently through his nose, raising one hand to place it on the back of his wife's head, fingers raking gently through her fair hair. Though his skin was rough, the man's touch was soft, and as she pulled away to look at him, that question lingering in her eyes, he knew what she was trying to ask. He looked from her eyes to her lips again, then leaned forwards to kiss her once more, this time with renowned vigor as he regained his strength. He had to be strong; not only for himself, but for Sylvia. And Therian needed to show that he wasn't weak.

The hand at the back of her head grabbed a fistful of her hair, keeping her close to him. Therian's touch was firm, but never painful -- he wouldn't dare hurt his precious wife. Their kiss was passionate, lips pressed tightly together, his tongue slipping between Sylvia's lips to explore her familiar mouth. As it went on, he dropped both of his hands to her shoulders and sat up some, already working on that dress. He slipped the fabric past her shoulders and started pulling it down and across her chest so that his wife's gown could gather at the waist, ready to slip off whenever she wanted it to.

Similarly, Therian shrugged off his tattered shirt, his strong upper body covered only in fresh bandages and horrible scars. His member pressed hard against his trousers, yearning for Sylvia, craving, begging, pleading for her attention. He broke their kiss and pressed their foreheads together, his hot breath spilling over her neck. Therian let one of his hands travel across her pert breasts before abandoning the supple flesh and cupping her chin again, thumb brushing gently over her lips and on to her cheek.

"I could never leave you."
 
Men of their race were said to be fantastic kissers, so much so that when they locked their lips on a woman, barely one in a thousand could stop herself from giving her all to him. But Therian had to be in a class by himself. Sylvia remembered the first time he'd kissed her, the first time he'd slid his tongue into her mouth. Any nervousness she had felt that night had melted instantly, replaced with white-hot lust as she coaxed her tongue into open air for wet lewd french kissing. She had given him her all that night, and every night since then, whenever he had shown the slightest sign that he wished to. And, considering her body and the way she used it, that was almost every night.

Already he had her almost naked from the waist up. She had barely noticed. It had been so long since they had last been together, she was practically breathless when he touched his forehead to hers. She inhaled his sweet-smelling breath and looked into his eyes as his powerful fingers controlled her hair, and her face all at once. He was so strong.

But when he tried to move his thumb from her lips, she caught that soft vulnerable digit in her teeth. It was just to tease, though. Because then, looking into his eyes, she began to gently, softly suckle against his thumb, prodding and caressing it with her soft sweet tongue. Her bare breasts pressed against his defined scarred midsection, her nipples hidden from him, but her breasts were big enough that by caressing their sides, he had plenty of soft warm flesh to feel.
 
When Sylvia trapped Therian's thumb in her mouth, he looked at her with loving but hungry eyes, a low rumble forming from somewhere in the bowls of his throat. She suckled, she teased -- it had a maddening effect on the man, but of course she knew that. He didn't say anything, but his thumb pushed deeper in to her mouth; and deeper, and deeper. It tickled the back of her throat, and he sighed gently through his nose as he watched his obedient, loving, loyal, perfect wife. She was ready to give herself to him, like she'd done so many times before. There wasn't a thing in the world the two wouldn't do for each other.

Reluctantly, Therian drew his thumb from her lips only to find them with his own again, capturing Sylvia in another heart-melting kiss. He held her face, his now-damp thumb caressing the smooth flesh of her cheek, and Therian reached down to take hold of her hand, guiding it to the spot between his legs. Almost instantly, she felt the thick, warm shape of his tool through the cloth of his pants. The fabric strained, that all-too familiar cock pleading to come free.

Leaning back on to their sofa, he pulled his lips away from hers and watched Sylvia with intent, one hand combing through her beautiful, long hair again, the other falling down her naked back to the curve of her waist. His hand snuck beneath the dress and smoothed over Sylvia's round ass before giving each of her cheeks a light squeeze, pulling her body even closer to his. "I've thought about those lips for weeks," he whispered to her, brushing his fingers over them again. "Your voice. Those eyes, this face..."
 
Sylvia was not a short woman, not by any standard, but Therian was so tall and muscular that his mere presence humbled her. Even now, after years of marriage, being so close to him was almost intimidating. All that raw masculine power, all that muscle... if he wished her harm, there was nothing that she could do to stop him. Perhaps that was part of what made them so compatible. She knew what he could do to her, and she knew that he knew, and yet he had never done anything to hurt her, not once. Not more than she wanted, anyway.

That brief teasing touch to the entrance of her throat made her wince the slightest amount, silently gagging, before he enveloped her mouth with another kiss. She felt his hand caress her face, feeling at the perfect dimple in her cheek, even as his fingers caressed hers and brought them down, and down, and down, and...

Her eyes widened, and for the first time that she could remember, she pulled her lips from his consciously. The skillful manipulation of her hair, and the way he caressed that thick but tight ass of hers--nice and big and round but not too much in any way, and still firm and athletic--all of it shortened her breath until she could barely breathe. And when he stroked her lips again, she kissed tenderly at his fingers.

"I've dreamed about you," she said. "Your face, too, but mostly your arms, your chest... your big strong powerful body," she said, using her free hand to feel gently at his torso. Even injured, he was still a warrior, and in time, he'd heal and his scars would be nothing more than tattoos, bravery etched into flesh. And then she remembered her other hand, gently rubbing against his awakening member. Sylvia had dainty hands, and that had always made him feel bigger, but this... this...

"I've dreamed about your cock too," she said in a half-whisper. As if anyone would hear them. As if someone hearing them could restrain her lust now. "It's been so hard without you, Therian... nothing can replace you, and your cock. Not the biggest toy on the market. Not by far." She swallowed once, before kissing her way down his defined abdomen. He hadn't gotten a view of her breasts yet, but he fot a feel of them in the best way as they pressed against his crotch, bathing it in warm soft femininity. And then she looked up at him again, stroking him through his pants with one hand, the other hand reaching back so that she could be entirely nude for her husband.

"Therian, you've... you've always been big, but now... you're huge," she said, half-blushing, alternatively staring up at him, and down at the hard thickness still concealed in his pants. A woman of her sensuality, of her race, and she actually seemed a bit intimidated. A bit scared even.
 
He listened to his wife as she spoke sweetly to him; as she spoke not-so-sweetly to him. Their love wasn't a forbidden thing, and yet, in the aftermath of this occupation, in the presence of their humans captors... it felt a little bit taboo. It was their little way of saying 'you may have beaten us, but we've still won,' to the rest of the world. It was their way of refusing to lose, and Therian knew that, for as long as he lived, he'd never truly back down from the people that opposed them. They'd made a grave mistake, allowing him to leave the dungeons, and soon they'd regret it.

His hands left her face as she moved down to kiss a trail along his strong body. Even without a sword in his hands, even confined to a cage, Therian refused to grow weak. Not just in body, but in will and in mind. He was as stubborn as he was strong, and they'd never break him. Sylvia was the same, in her own cunning way. A lot of women in her position would've fallen long ago. He let out a soft sigh and leaned his head back in to the cushions of their couch, watching with hungry, loving eyes as she made her way down him. Lower... lower...

Her breasts were perhaps the softest thing in the world. The softest he could remember, anyway. After weeks of sleeping on the cold, hard prison floors, he cherished the touch of her naked mounds pressed hotly up against him, and, as they moved to sit warmly on his crotch, he groaned slightly with pleasure, his cock fit snugly in between them. At her words, he only chuckled, and Therian gathered her pale hair in to one hand, moving the strands up and away from her face. "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger," he whispered with a knowing smirk.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or of the mind. Maybe his precious wide had just forgotten how big and how thick he really was. Or perhaps he'd gown, after all. Either way, Therian was wasting no more time with this. He reached down with both of his hands and slowly unbuttoned his trousers for her to see. Instead of waiting for Sylvia to reach down and fish his cock out, he did it for her, pulling it from the depths of his pants as if he was presenting her with some sort of trophy or award -- and he may as well have been.

The elf was hard, long and thick, his member spanning taller than than his wife's head from base to tip, and it was as thick as her wrist, too, complimented by two heavy orbs that sat dangling beneath it. It was red and throbbing, starved of attention for so long that his anxiousness had already caused a healthy dose of pre-cum to spill free. He gripped himself with one hand, the other resting atop Sylvia's head, and Therian pressed the warm belly of his cock against the woman's cheek, sighing gently through his nose as their skin touched. "I've missed those lips," he mumbled to her, grabbing a fistful of her hair again. "Have they missed me?"
 
Sexuality was will was power. That was the philosophy of the Sylvan people, and that was how it always had been. Therian, having been without sex for so long, was dis-empowered. But now that she was with him again, he was coming back. He was coming back strong. And the humans would, she knew, would regret the day they had ever set their sights on Sylvos. But revenge would come later. For now, all that mattered in the world, all that existed in the world, was him and her.

She looked down at that raging cloth-covered hardon pressed firmly between her breasts, and had he not taken her hair into his hand and stroked it behind her head, she would have teased him mercilessly. She would have kissed him and licked him and, grinning mischievously, looked into his eyes and taken his stiffness into her teeth just long enough for him to feel a prick of fear. And then she would have taken his zipper down with her teeth. But she could feel his lust, she could see it in the way he handled her, the way his rapid in-and-out breathing made his abs pulse, the way he fumbled with a button on his trouser and simply tore it off to expose himself to her.

It had been so long since she had see him, standing up tall and strong in all of his glory. His cock was pale, like his skin and his hair, and smooth at first glance. But as Sylvia continued to stare at him, veins began to line the belly and sides of his shaft. Fat, coarsing, juicy veins, emphasized when he gripped himself. And yet, the reddened head of his cock was smooth and sleek and perfect, even though it was as big as her fist. He compared himself to her, then, pressing his member against her soft pale cheek, but she barely noticed this. She was staring at his cock, positively entranced by it, before even he precame. That slight jolt of pleasure alone produced more seed than most men, most Sylvans even, could in a week.

She placed one hand on him. Then the other. And even with his hand still gripping his cock at the same time, there was a healthy inch of shaft and the head of his cock still visible. She couldn't even get close to wrapping her fingers around him. Briefly, she rubbed him with her hands, caressing him really, as she nuzzled her pretty little nose and her soft fair cheeks against the girthy underside of his fat cock. Only then did she allow her tongue to part her lips and clean up the precum he had leaked, all the way up to the head of his cock. She then looked into his eyes, gently stroking him, her breasts pillowed softly against his thighs. The picture of beauty, she ran her tongue around his cockhead once--just once.

"Let me show you," she said. And then, shutting her eyes, she began to kiss all over his cock, from the head to the meaty midsection, where it grew far thicker than her wrist, her forearm even. Most women were dainty with this process, timid even, and so was she... at least to start off with. But within seconds, her kisses were open mouthed and wet and audible, and her own arousal was beginning to increase. She pressed her face against him shamelessly. After all, he was her husband. She felt no shame for giving him the pleasure he deserved.
 
When she grabbed him with both hands, Therian let out another satisfied rumble from somewhere low in his throat again, leaning further back in to the cushions. His hand dropped from the base of his shady and tested at his side instead, though the hand holding her hair in place didn't dare to move at all. As she pressed her face against the belly of his monstrous length, he wondered if he still deserved Sylvia at all. He'd failed, after all -- he'd made an oath to keep the kingdom safe, and now most of it lay in ruin. There weren't many of their kind left. Certainly not enough to win a rebellion. Not even enough to try and start one...

But those were all problems for another time.

His wife spoke, and Therian listened. The man's whole body tensed as she leaned forwards to place soft, sweet kisses all over his manhood... and then they grew not so soft and not so sweet, wet, lewd noises coming from her lips as she worshipped his cock all over and made it slick with spittle. The two may have been infinitely and unconditionally in love with one another, and sex was an important part, when it came to that sort of unrequited romance. People could not get by together with words alone. They had to embrace each other; to prove their love with action, to show their affection for one another in way there mere, trivial words could simply never express.

As she paid him some much-needed attention, Therian raised his hand again but gripped himself at the tip of his cock this time, slowly peeling himself back for her. The pre-cum that'd leaked from his head had pooled around the folds of his foreskin, and it spilled like thick syrup down the length of his shaft as he pulled his uncut skin back. Fingers coated in his own sticky seed, Therian brought them to Sylvia's lips and forced two of his cum-covered digits past his wife's lips and in to her mouth, giving the elven woman a rather large sample of all he had to offer.

The man wasn't done there, however. He gripped himself again and guided his cock towards her face once more, pressing it hotly against her cheek, over her face, and then to the other side, painting her white as his semen-slick shaft more or less caressed her. Even more of the white substance spilled from his tip, and Therian mumbled something, sighing through his nose. "I must've really missed you," the man commented, chuckling faintly, though only for a moment. He pulled back on her hair roughly so she could look at him, and though his words betrayed his tone, the next sentence came lovingly. "Now let me fuck that pretty little face of yours."
 
Whoever had thought up circumcision, all those thousands of years ago, was a fool as far as Sylvia was concerned. There was no reason for it in terms of hygiene--Therian was never the slightest bit dirty--and in terms of aesthetic, there was nothing she liked watching more than him exposing the almost too sensitive head of his cock to her. When he did that, she knew that he was serious, that he truly wanted her. That he needed her. Now, there was no calming him down, no matter what else happened. Even if his own brother came through the door and sat down to watch, Therian was beyond stopping now.

Several drops--well, more than several drops, a lot more--of his thick sticky precum had been trapped in the folds of his foreskin. And as Sylvia watched, licking her lips and stroking him with her dainty little hands, he scooped up some of that thick nectar and slid it, and his fingers, directly into her mouth.

And now there was no turning back for her. The minute she tasted his concentrated masculine essence, she shivered, he could feel it. She sucked at his fingers, going so far as to grab his hand when he tugged it back in order to get every last droplet of that thick cream off, and when he finally did pull his fingers away, she was breathing in and out, in and out, so hard that her breasts rose and fell against his thighs repeatedly. He could almost see her soft pink nipples. Almost, but not quite.

That thick slab of his dwarfed her face, and so she was half-hidden from him as he pressed it firmly against her face. He didn't need to be as gentle with her as he might have with a smaller woman, she could take it even when he mashed that heavy shaft of his against her nose so hard that it nearly hurt. The whole while, she was tonguing him, kissing him, stroking him with one hand, while her free hand disappeared between her own legs. This process was nearly silent, except for when she whispered, almost too quietly to hear, "Gods, your big cock makes me feel so sexy." The only thing that stopped her was when he gave her hair a yank, painful enough to sting a bit and make her mouth open with a silent gasp.

She looked into his eyes as he commanded her. And when he was finished speaking, she obeyed. Her hand withdrew itself from her legs--paused at her mouth so that she could give her fingers a brief lick--and then she took both of his much more powerful hands into hers. These she guided across her face so that he could feel her youth, her beauty, and her love for him as she nuzzled against them, and then slid them until they were holding her hair firmly at the back of her head.

At his mercy, she stroked him twice, then set her hands gently on his thighs, his abs, so that she could feel his musculature. After staring at his slightly swaying cockhead a few times and planting a few hungry kisses on it, she looked into his eyes again.

"You're in control now, Therian. You can have my face however you want." She paused, and then rubbed over his toned belly once. "You don't have to be gentle. This time... you can make me gag." That was a line that she'd never quite let him cross before, but now she was telling him that he could, and judging by the expression in her eyes, she was telling him... she wanted to gag on his big fat cock.
 
Therian watched Sylvia closely as she seemed to lavish the attention he was giving her, his thick dock practically steam-rolling over her face. He loved every little touch she gave him -- the feel of her hands gripping his shaft, those heavy breasts hot against his thighs, her sweet breath falling over him like the nicest breeze. As she took his hands in to her own, Therian watched her closely, and he cupped her beautiful face after she left them there, fingers carrying through her hair again. And then Sylvia spoke, and a the smallest and briefest of smiles toyed at his lips for just a moment.

He didn't enjoy hurting her, of course; an unpleasant experience isn't what he had in mind for Sylvia, if wasn't what he wanted for her. But Therian was a man, and that meant he had to act like one. Too often did men grow soft and weak and forget their places in the world. Women were competent in their own ways, and Sylvia certainly was capable in many of her own... but taking lead when the two of them danced naked between the sheets, that was Therian's duty. Not hers.

He didn't move his hands from her face, thumbs brushing over those sweet, sweet cheeks again. Therian slipped his thumb in to Sylvia's mouth for a brief moment for her to suckle on and kiss before the man shifted his hips slightly, sitting a little straighter and more comfortably on the couch, his wife on her knees just in front of him. His hands snuck around to the back of her head, just like she'd wanted, and his cock moved so that its leaking head was pressed against her mouth. Without warning, Therian gripped her hair, the pulled her head down, thrust his hips forwards, and....

His cock shot straight in to her mouth with enough force to choke her for a second. So thick and so long, it filled her cheeks and left no room for air to enter or escape through her mouth -- and so she'd have to use her nose, if she wanted to try and breathe. Still, he wasn't making that easy for her. Therian pressed hard against her throat and continued even further, making it halfway down before stopping, a noticeable bulge forming at her neck. The elf groaned lowly and tossed his head back, holding himself there a moment, and then he started thrusting his hips in and out, pulling his wife's head up and pushing it down again as his cock came halfway out her lips before pushing all the way in all over again. A symphony of moans and gasps escaped the man as he fucked Sylvia's moistened lips, unrelenting, wet, lewd noises ringing out every time he hit the back of her throat and pulled himself free from her lips again.
 
He knew how to tease her. When she was like this, on her knees at his mercy, she felt meek, almost vulnerable, and she'd likely do anything he asked if he asked it right then. And all he asked was for her to suck and kiss at the finger he slid into her mouth. She obeyed the unspoken request instantly, enthusiastically, making out with that pale digit of his and applying just enough suction to it that he knew he couldn't wait long to enter her mouth truly. She looked up at him briefly as he used his powerful hands to maneuver her head into position--and then, before she could lick her lips or favor him with a dirty word, he took her. Hard, and fast, and, mercifully, not quite as deep as he could, or else she might have choked out on his fat cock.

As it was, she could barely catch her breath in the brief moments between his powerful rapid thrusts. Gagging repeatedly, she shut her eyes to try to concentrate on simply breathing, but his cock was simply too big. It was fat enough that it only just fit snugly in her throat, and long enough that if he really had taken her to the base, his cockhead would have been beyond the base of her neck. As it was, thicky slimy gagjuice occasionally slid from the corners of her mouth, or when he pulled back; this slid down onto her breasts from time to time.

And then Sylvia opened her eyes. They were watering, somewhat, but that didn't stop her from looking directly at him as he made hot wet lewd love to her face. She was his wife, his love, his to do what he wanted with, and the expression on her face, as he fucked it, said as much. One of her hands was rubbing, feeling at his powerful abdomen, as it worked to take her, and the other one had slipped between his legs to very, very gently, very carefully, caress and cup his heavy productive balls. He had never allowed her to do more than that, and even that itself might be worth a word of scolding, or some other admonishment.
 
He looked deep in to Sylvia's beautiful gaze, mesmerized by how she looked. Everything about her seemed perfect, even with his cock stuffed down her throat -- especially with his cock stuffed down her throat. That gorgeous gaze, those ample breasts pressed hot against his thighs, the way her spittle dribbled down her chin and on to her own flesh, giving it a little shine. He kept both hands on either side of her head and pushed Sylvia down, thrusting again, though as she reached down to cup his balls, the man twitched, wincing slightly as she irritated them.

"Sylvia," her husband said sternly, pulling up on her hair hard to rip his wife free from his cock. He gripped his base with the other hand and... promptly smacked her in the face with his slick shaft, leaving a mark on her cheek and a thin sheet of spittle. "Don't," the elf reprimanded, but said no more of it. The two of them had their little spats, occasionally -- their little petty differences, but at the end of the day, they were husband and wife and nothing could separate them... well, almost nothing.

His cock head found her lips again, but he didn't push in to her mouth. Therian sighed through his nose, simply letting her kiss him, nuzzle him, please him. "I want to save myself for you," the man murmured to her, brushing her hair back again. He didn't seem to want to finish in her mouth. Not yet, anyway, though perhaps Slyvia had other plans. She could be fickle, when she wanted to be. "I want to take you, to feel you from the inside, Syl." He sighed. "It's been a while..."
 
Sylvia had beautiful hair. Straight, flaxen blond, and long enough to reach the middle of her back easily. It also happened that she absolutely loved it when Therian pulled on her hair, even when he was rough. Even when he did it to punish her, within her shame, she couldn't help but be aroused when he treated her like that. He was her husband, after all, and it was his right and his responsibility to punish her when she did something he didn't like.

So she tried to feel shame when he laid his disappointment across her face. She really did. But the hair pulling, and the cockslap itself... when he had her like that, she was absolutely shameless. She would have let him fuck her in public at that very moment, would have let him literally write his name on her face in cum, just then, if he had asked her. But he didn't. He only rested that fat cockhead of hers against his lips again, which she kissed and gently jerked off again before she even realized it.

Sylvia opened her eyes and looked at him for a moment as she took a break to lick around him in slow, loving circles, before she said a word of apology. Then, to drive her apology home, she nuzzled her cheeks down his shaft and then literally rested his cock across her nose, her cheeks, her face, and looked up at him. Such a humiliating position... it was clear that Sylvia practically considered herself owned by her husband. She stroked his perfect, pale dick with her hands, and then lightly smacked it against her forehead a few more times, as if she acknowledged that his punishment wasn't enough.

His balls were directly in front of her, and she'd have given anything to wrap her tongue around then, to gently ferry them into her mouth where she could love on them for hours, but then he said something that made her stare up at him with bated breath. He wanted to cum inside of her.

"Can I ride you, Therian?" Sylvia asked. "Please? I know you're tired after everything, and I... it's something I've wanted to do for a long time," she admitted. And it was true that in the past, he had always been on top. But then she pressed her body against his leg, so that he could feel her heavy fully breasts, and just how sopping wet she was for him. The position itself was far from traditional, and perhaps even a little taboo, but she still let his cock rest across her face. She knew what her place was, and maybe letting her ride him, just for a minute, wouldn't be too too harmful.
 
Therian looked at her silently. He was a good husband, sure, and women had a place in their society, but their place was beneath their husbands, as important and as precious as wives were. For a moment, he didn't even consider acknowledging her request. Ride him? They'd never done that before. It wasn't their way. But then Therian felt Sylvia's fully, heavy breasts pressed up against his thigh, blessing him with their warmth. He could feel her sopping wet cunt pressed hard against his leg, and her wetness really got him going, his massive cock twitching and flinching a couple of more times in her hands, begging to stretch her walls open again, to explore her depths, to release inside of her.

He'd give anything for that.

Reaching forwards, Therian grabbed a handful of the woman's hair and brought her on to her feet, pulling her in to his lap from where he was sitting on their couch. He pressed his forehead almost aggressively against her own, their noses violently touching, and his hot breath spilled across her neck before he leaned in and gave her full lips a hot kiss, not letting go of the hold he had on her blonde, beautiful mane of perfect flowing hair. His other hand reached up to roughly grab at one of Sylvia's generous breasts, only to drop it again and reach for her ass instead, giving it a sharp, beautiful smack that sent an entire rear shaking, a red mark in the shake of his hand leaving itself on one of her round cheeks.

Finally, he gripped both of her thighs and brought the woman a little further on to his lap so that she was straddling him now instead, their foreheads touching. His cock was resting against her ass, standing so tall that it even touched her back from where it was stuck just past the opening of her legs. 'I want you to ride me like a horse," Therian whispered to her, and their lips were touching even as he spoke. Both hands slid up her thighs and to her back before moving down again to take hold of her rear, his cock sliding between her cheeks easily as he thrust his hips forwards somewhat. "Don't stop," her husband warned. "I want every fucking human in this entire city to hear your screams."
 
If there was one thing Therian knew how to do, it was how to get her going. Gentle when she needed it, harsh when she needed it, and sometimes both at once. Most men would have been hesitant to yank their wife up by her hair like that, but not Therian, no, not at all. He had been initially, but a few words shared pillowside after their first night together had been all he'd needed to hear. Now he knew how Sylvia liked to be treated.

The result was that she was on his lap and kissing him before she realized it. His fingers intertwined with her long sleek hair as they kissed, as he felt her, from her breasts to her ass. She was a lean woman, there was no doubt about that, but at the same time, she was so deliciously curvy that they had never been able to keep their hands off of each other. Her breast didn't sag the slightest when he groped her, nor did her ass, yet when he spanked her, her entire rear end jiggled in his grasp. Most women wouldn't have appreciated that final action, but she did, and so much that she moaned into their kiss until it was an open mouthed makeout session.

She sat straddling him, and at this moment, her beauty absolutely shone. Pale skin, pale hair and eyes, and a body that was that of a goddess's. Her hourglass form was blatant and perfect, from the lean flat taper of her waist to her soft, heavy but perky breasts, to her broad sashaying hips. One of her dainty hands traveled behind her to gently feel and stroke at his thick cock and when she felt just how tall and fat it was, just how far it would reach up into her, she actually felt intimidated for a moment. He was going to split her apart. His hands felt at her ass, groping and fondling and then gathering it and squeezing it around his huge cock so that he was essentially hotdogging her.

"Yes," she said breathlessly to him. "I'll scream, Therian. Oh, how I'll scream..." She touched her lips to his one last time and then drew herself up, guiding his cockhead against her wet hot feminine entrance. She teased herself with his fist sized dickhead for a moment, rubbing and pressing at her labia, until she finally, slowly, gently began to lower herself down on him. One of her hands rested against his belly so that she could balance as warm wet tightness enveloped him inch by lascivious inch.

For a moment she paused, biting her lip. She seemed to shiver, and then she remembered what her husband had said and let out a low lusty moan before kissing at his lips a few times.

"Therian," she murmured, "your big cock... it made me cum already..." She kissed him again and pressed herself farther down on him. There was a brief obstruction in this process, until she bit back a word of pain and forced herself fully halfway down his cock at once, her loins nearly meeting his. He was so thick, and she was so tight after so long without him, that she had actually regained her maidenhood.
 
When she whispered to him, Therian pulled back slightly to look in to her beautiful hues, to watch those full, lovely lips move. The hands on her rear couldn't help from exploring the rest of her body. He moved them to her thighs, down her legs then up again, to the small of her back, across her stomach, over her breasts, everywhere he could think to touch, he did, and when she kissed him, Therian's eyes fluttered shut again, the man leaning in to it.

Shuddering, the elf watched as she grabbed hold of his massive rod, letting out a small groan as his sensitive cock was teased against her folds, the fat head brushing needily against her skin as she softly carried him along. Therian returned his hands to her broad hips and held her tightly, pushing the woman down somewhat. "Enough games," he mumbled to her, resting his head against her shoulder and kissing her chest. And then he could feel it. The elf tensed as he broke through the folds, watching carefully as Sylvia sank down on him. With every inch, his hands moved further and further up her sides, eventually holding her just beneath those heavy orbs once she'd sank down all the way on to him. He could feel himself tearing her apart. At least she'd been faithful; he could tell that much from the feel of her insides...

"Gods, Sylvia," the elf groaned, leaning forwards. He still felt weak, and this wasn't helping. He buried his face in to the warm safety of her breasts, then pulled her a little closer so that they could envelope him, his hands pushing softly against her back. Therian kissed them a few times, then looked up at her. "You're more heavenly than I remember..."

As she sank down to his base, Therian pushed up, thrusting his hips forwards and in to Sylvia as far as he could possibly go. A grunt of effort and pleasure escaped his lips, then, and he flinched at the sensation as she squeezed the entirety of him, his cock about ready to explode. Another thrust came, slow but deliberate, and then another, and then a final, strong push deep inside before the man simply couldn't take it anymore. It may have been short-lived, but it left the both of them in a deep bliss as he released inside of her, filling his wife's cunt with a hot, sticky warmth. Before she could think of pulling herself from him, Therian pressed down on her hips to keep himself inside and pulled Sylvia forwards, wrapping an arm around her torso to hold her close, their naked chests touching, the other held steady on the back of her head, fingers raking through her pale hair.

"I love you," he finally said. "Gods, I love you, woman. Do you hear me? I don't care who knows; I don't care who sees."
 
He couldn't keeps his hands off of her. Even now, after years of marriage, he explored every inch of her beautiful body with her hands. From her thick but tight ass to her narrow flat waist, to her sides, to her heavy but perky breasts, he felt her, and every one of his touches sent tingling excitement racing up and down her spine. When he buried his face into the soft warmth of her breasts, she wrapped her arms around him and held him there gently, kissing at his forehead and snuggling her tits around his face. She could feel his mouth all over her chest, searching, touching, exploring. And the whole while he was fucking her with a cock so big that she alternatively winced and moaned.

She bit her lip again. And then she remembered what he had said. One, two, three thrusts, and with each of them she moaned loud and louder and louder, until on the last one her voice positively carried out through their doors, through their windows, to let the humans know that while the Sylvans were defeated, they weren't destroyed. And then he finished inside of her so powerfully that she felt it. At this point she shivered before falling down against his chest to cover him with kisses. This was her way of thanking him for her climax. As he stroked through her hair, she nuzzled her nose against his powerful jawline and settled into position against him. His torso was so much bigger than hers, that despite her own height and curvaeous build, she was positively petite against him. His arm held her in place about the waist, as if she wanted to leave him. As if she'd ever want to leave him.

His words made her blush and for a time she didn't respond to him. Then, so softly that it was clear that she meant her words for him only, she spoke. "I've fantasized about it, you know," she said. "Taking you in public. I'd let you do anything you want to me, Therian, as I always do. I'd let you write your lust on my face for everyone to see... if I could do that, I'd be the happiest woman alive," she admitted.

Too embarrassed to continue, she planted a velvet soft kiss on his collarbone. Even in his condition, malnourished and still suffering from the injuries of the battlefield, he was so strong, so powerful, such a man that she considered herself blessed to be able to touch him. To be his whore alone would have been an honor above all others, but to be his wife... she hadn't the words to describe it. If they'd lived just a few generations ago, Therian would have deserved and likely taken a second (or third) wife, but that tradition had fallen out of favor. If it hadn't, though, Sylvia wouldn't have been jealous. Not at all. Any woman would be honored to have Therian, even partially. Even for one night.

Therian. One night. The humans.

After a long, long moment, Sylvia lifted her upper body from his chest. He'd have a heavenly view of her cleavage in this manner, though her nipples were still pressed against his chest as her fair hair cascaded down one side of her face.

"Therian," she said softly, "have you ever considered... you know, being with... other women?"
 
As Sylvia rest against him, Therian sighed, holding his wife close. The man was spent -- spent and exhausted, and all he wanted to do now was drift off to sleep, with her wrapped in his arms, with her warmth against him and with her soft hair in his face. He rested his cheek against her blonde mane and took in his wife's intoxicating scent, raking his fingers slowly through her silken locks. Why couldn't things be this way forever? He knew they couldn't be. Wouldn't be. But he could savor all of this while it lasted, at least. He'd make every second count.

When she started whispering to him, he looked down at her, brow raised. Sylvia didn't often speak to him like some common whore. But he knew that's what she was, at heart. Perhaps not everyone's whore, but she was his. A whore that loved him, perhaps, and one he loved back. But she would do anything for him. He knew that. Therian needed no other wives; Sylvia was strong, unrelenting, and she was loyal. She was enough. More than enough. When she kissed him, his eyes wandered over her body. He loved the way her breasts pressed up against his chest, stuck between himself and her. The man raised his hands and felt the sides of her chest, wanting nothing more than to grope her or bury his face between those pillowy mounds. Perhaps he would, before he drifted off to sleep...

That last question surprised him, though.

"What?" he asked, looking down at her. The elf blinked. "You're asking if I dream of other women? If I desire anybody else?" A pause, and then he chuckled. The man gently reached up and grabbed her by the hair, tilting her head back slightly so that she was looking him in the eye. "I desire no one else," he murmured, looking to her lips. "I need no one else." Therian kissed her, then, and thrust up slightly, his monstrous cock still hard and buried halfway inside of her. The sensitive organ fought against her protesting walls, and he groaned, starting to fuck her again, calmly, slowly, but not with purpose. "Why are you asking me this?"
 
It wasn't fair of him, to try to talk to her while he made love to her. Even half hard, his cock was large enough to make her strain and moan witht he slightest of motions between them. She ended up pressing her face into his firm chest in order to stop moaning again. But still he fucked her, and still she couldn't think clearly. It wasn't until she came again with a shivering delighted moan that she could speak.

"I had an idea," she said, "for how to fight back against the humans... in the most meaningful manner." She planted a series of velvet soft kisses across his chest and then rested her cheek against him as he finally stopped fucking her. And then she explained what she meant.

It was simple, exceedingly so. And in its simplicity lay its genius. Humans weren't like elves, let alone Sylvan elves, who had never held the sexual as taboo. Adultery wasn't encouraged in their societies, far from it, but it was neither punished nor taboo; it was merely an indiscretion that was apologized for with a gift of flowers or a favorite meal. But humans punished it corporally, or with prison, or worse. And children born of adultery had it even worse.

So perhaps it could be thought of as a psychological war. Seduce the human women--easily done, since even the meanest of the Sylvans was far more attractive than any human man ever could be--and sleep with them, and, if at all possible, get them with child. If betrayed after the fact by a lover, deny any and all wrongdoing, and the humans absurdly high standards of proof would see you found not guilty in a court of law. The whole while, the very foundation of human society, trust between a wife and a husband, would weaken and crumble until it shattered.

It was a safer rebellion than an armed one, which the humans might well detect and put down with overwhelming force. It needed neither cooperation nor coordination with others, as one man could have nearly the same effect as a dozen, and if Therian were to ever come back into contact with the friends or allies of those he'd fought with on the battlefield, they could all operate independently, with or without overlapping lovers. And, at the end of the day, there were some human women who really weren't that bad looking. Some of them weren't that bad looking at all...

Sylvia kissed her husband on the chest one final time and then fell silent, allowing his fingers to stroke her sides, her lower back, however they would. She'd given him her idea, and now it was up to him to explain what he thought about it, and ascertain with her once and for all if she really was okay with him going out to intentionally fuck other women.
 
Therian listened, he did -- listened for Sylvia to finish, and at the end of it all, he waited for some sort of punchline, for his wife to stand up and shout "just kidding!" But it never came. From what he knew of the woman, it was unlike Sylvia to suggest such a thing. Sure, the two of them had had their threesomes in the past. There'd been one of her friends she'd sometimes insisted on bringing over, or a working girl she'd found at the corner of some street, but for his wife to suggest he go out to try and fuck as many as he could... well, it didn't quite sit right with the elf. Not at first. Men who betrayed their wives were gutless, spineless and cowardly men... and Therian was far from any of those things.

He wouldn't fight with his wife, though. Perhaps she wasn't thinking clearly, too far consumed by the emotion of seeing her husband again. The man simply kissed his wife and held her close, laying with her until the both of them had drifted off to sleep. Or, he tried to, at least. Long after Sylvia had fallen unconscious, Therian remained awake, keeping her wrapped up in his arms. Her idea, it wasn't a bad one. A bit.,. strange, perhaps, but he could see what she was going for. And by the time the man had eventually drifted off in to his own slumber, he'd grown more and more fond of the idea with each passing second.

Not too fond of it, however...

That morning, Therian was the first to wake. He left Sylvia where she was, naked and spent on the couch, then moved in to their bedroom, which he hadn't seen in ages. The man was glad to find his possessions were still there. Though humans now occupied their lands, nothing was stopping him from carrying a sword. The man dressed simply and belted his weapon at his waist, kissing his wife on the cheek as he headed back through the living room in passing. And just like that, Therian was out the door. He needed to get outside, walk the city streets again, try to feel... normal. He'd been stripped of title and rank, though not of his freedom and his coin, at least. The man was still a noble.

By midday, Therian had eaten enough to give him back his strength, and he found himself in one of Sylvos' most esteemed bathhouses. Men and women of all types, both human and elven came here now, sharing the baths and the springs together. It was a fancy place, made up mostly of marble and chiseled stone, though Therian had secured a private bath of his own, set off to the side in a room that lent him some privacy. Here, he used the steam of the spring to work up a sweat, trying to build up his muscle again -- push-ups, sit-ups, anything he could do to become the fierce warrior he'd once been. By the end of his workout, the man had worked up quite a sweat, beads of it rolling down his strong body, and he'd nothing but a towel on, wrapped loosely around his waist...
 
It was an attempt to bring the city together, and, altogether, a rather successful one. The humans had ruled for only a few months, but already humans and Sylvans were talking, mingling even, and in no pace was this more common than the bathhouse. Already humans and Sylvans were friends. Already the Sylvan race was coming to accept its place under the humans...

It was a nightmare. And the worst part of it, the coldest slap in the face, was that Sylvans were no longer allowed to own private baths in the house. Those who did had had them seized and either publicized or sold off to humans. Such was apparently what happened to Therian's. After all, what else could explain the fine tan face that appeared in the steam, not ten feet away from him?

And he had seen her face before, pasted on propaganda posters here and there in that part of the city. She was Priya Rai, wife of the local mayor who administered affairs for human-Sylvan interrelations and some other things. He was a man known to be calm and friendly and willing to listen to anyone who wanted to talk, and the door to his office was always open for anyone who wanted to enter. He was reasonable and benevolent and popular, and his wife seemed to be at well. A less hospitable woman might have called security then and then and had the trespassing Sylvan beaten and thrown out naked in the streets.

But she just smiled at him for a moment before speaking. "It's alright. We can share the baths if you want. Therian Wildfire, isn't it? Pleased to meet you." She touched her hands together and briefly bowed in a respectful greeting that was traditional to her race, and then left him be, more or less, as she entered the room more fully. At this point, it became clear that she was wearing a towel that just barely clung to the considerable curves of her bust and hips, ending barely an inch below her thick but tight ass. Her hair was dark and sleek and a bit wavy, and her exotic features...

Well, she was no Sylvan, but she was certainly attractive for a human. For any species, really. And, facing to the side of Therian, she bent over and reached down to her toes, stretching. Her sleek hair cascaded down the far side of her face, framing her features, and in this manner, the sheer curvy litheness of her figure became blatant, obvious, conspicuous..
 
When the woman came in, Therian looked up from where he sat amidst the steam of the bath, narrowing his eyes to pierce through the fog so that he might inspect this woman who had approached him. It didn't take long at all for him to put a name to that beautiful, tanned face of hers. Priya Rai, he knew her. Knew her husband, really. Reasonable, benevolent, popular... maybe, but that didn't mean Therian had to like him. He just hated the man a little bit less, was all. Humans were good for nothing.

"Wildlight, actually," the elf answered with a cool yet cold tone, showing no friendliness or warmth towards the other woman. It wasn't just the fact that she was human; he was angry with himself for looking her body up and down, and he was angry with her in turn. Sylvia had planted those seeds in his minds. Seeds that were growing in to something more. Temptation, desire -- for the first time, he thought about bending a woman over who wasn't his wife, and this human whore would make the perfect treat. Perhaps he'f start his conquest with her.

Standing, his legs knee-deep at the edge of he bath they were to share together, Therian reached for his waist and slowly unfastened the towel that clung to his hips, bearing himself to her. His cock was something to behold, even in its flaccid state; larger than anything she'd had before, no doubt, and he wasn't even hard yet. The man smirked at her, then reached out a hand, offering her some help stepping in to the pool if she wanted it.

"No need for that towel," Therian said to her. "Go ahead, slip it off. You're in a Sylvan bathhouse, after all."
 
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