The silver shines twice more before I check my watch. We’re approaching the hour, but I enjoy another minute before I pull the silver from Margeurite’s mouth. I already know what she’s going to say.
“Galiva, please,” Margeurite gasps, and I can’t help but grin. Her voice quivers, her need laid bare. But we’re not done yet. We still have fifteen minutes before we’re through.
The silver fills her mouth again, muffling her moan. I leave her for only a moment to shed my own clothes. A leather harness hugs my hips and thighs, and I choose the phallus I think Margeurite will like best. I put a hand on her hip as I slide a small focus under the harness to rest against my clit. It comes to life, buzzing like a benevolent hive as I tease the tip of the cock down Margeurite’s slit.
I lay down underneath her, guiding her into a position over me. It leaves her cunt hovering just over the tip of my cock, and I roll my hips up to stroke her. She moans, her trapped body quivering in the silver’s grip.
I toy with her, easing the tip in with a shallow thrust. This view lets me see every inch as she opens around me, and I can’t help but shiver in pleasure.
She whimpers, feeling the promise of it as she vainly tries to push further down. Under the silver, her skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, her chest heaving as she trembles on the edge of orgasm. I check the time again and see that my fifteen minutes are almost up.
Only then do I pull her onto my cock. She’s weightless in the silver, and I swear as I roll up to meet her, the pressure of her body pressing the buzzer firmly against my clit. I fuck her slowly, grinding into her with every drag and pull.
The silver overhead dances with color, and it’s the only warning I get before Margeurite screams around the gag of silver. Her orgasm crashes through her, and I work her through it, thrusting slow and deep to prolong her pleasure.
The colors shift for ages before the silver finally settles back into its normal, inert shine. I wait a breath, letting Margeurite settle back into her body. Though I can’t be sure yet, I think we were successful in reaching Allis. I let myself enjoy the buzzing of the focus a second longer before I remove it.
I don’t know if I came or not. It doesn’t really matter. Margeurite did, and in the aftermath of the spell, I feel like I’ve had a different sort of release.
I feel more clearheaded. Placid waters after a storm.
Slowly, I peel the silver off of her. She’s still enveloping my cock, and the silver leaves her straddling my waist. She sinks down with a moan, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her head against my chest.
She looks up at me, and I smile at the blissed-out expression she wears, her eyes heavily lidded.
“I made it through to her. Thank you, Galiva,” she says, a hint of a moan still coloring her voice.
Her thanks warms me, and if nothing else, that helps me feel like I’ve done something right tonight. “Stay, Mags. Please.”
I’m not sure what she and Allis talked about in the silver, but she nods, her arms tightening around me. “I’ll stay. At least until the talks are over. Then... then we’ll see.”
I press a kiss to her hair. It’s the best I can ask for. “In the meantime, what can I do to make the wait bearable?”
Margeurite rests her cheek against my chest, her horn curled under my chin. “Stay with me a little longer?”
I tighten my arms around her. It’s an easy request to grant.
The Cabin
Taking on an assignment can be a demanding task, both mentally and physically. It’s important to take care of yourself while away from the Crux.
Magical Tactics by Eroland Lockhart
THE TERRAIN GETS STEEPERover the next few days, but I don’t realize what good time I’ve made until I turn a corner and see Mount Singris looming through the trees, its jagged peak already topped in white. The view never fails to stop me in my tracks, and a small laugh escapes me as I look down into the valley below. Smoke rises from the small village that’s tucked cozily into the trees.
Airedale looks just like I remember. Like it’s been frozen in time these past two years. Feelings I’m not sure what to do with well up as I nudge Mo into a walk, heading down the hill towards my first stop: my da’s old cabin.
It’s a little ways out from town, nestled into the woods about a half mile off the main road. It doesn’t take long to reach it, and while it seems like the town hasn’t changed at all, the cabin sure has. The place had already been a drafty, leaky-roofed wreck when I left. As if my da had been the last thing holding it all together. Before Galiva fixed it, my arm had hurt too bad to properly repair the thatch roof,and now, after a few untended seasons, it’s collapsed on one side. As I get closer, I see that the shutters are still tied closed with my own knots.
I pause outside of the door, my roiling emotions settling on grief at the sight of it. My da would be ashamed at the state of the place. No matter how little coin we had, he always made sure the cabin was put together. Yet another thing I’ve disappointed him in, I’m sure.
With a sigh, I push the door open. It smells of mildew inside. The old floorboards creak as I step onto them, and little feet scuttle under my da’s old bed where it still rests against the far wall. The roof has collapsed over mine, but fortunately, the stove and small kitchen aren’t blocked.
And my mother’s old plant journal is on the shelf over the table, right where I left it. I let out a breath as I grab it, my chest tight with an emotion I can’t quite name. I carefully wipe the dust from the old leather cover before I lean against the table to flip through the wrinkled linen pages.
It’s filled with sketches of plants that pluck at so many bittersweet memories. I learned to read from this book. Though my mother’s voice has been lost to time, I remember her helping me sound out every letter. Each picture is notated with her cramped handwriting, though the ink is so smudged in places that I can barely make out the words anymore.
After she left, I’d read through it so many times. Used the journal to hold onto the memory of her. Now, I hold onto the hope that maybe I missed something. Forgot some crucial note she left that would give a hint of her plans. But as I read, eventually my own unstable handwriting takes over across the pages and my hopes sink.
