57"

You give in, and climb onto the bed with her, taking care not to put any weight or pressure on her injury – not that she cares at this point. Almost the instant you are within reach she pulls you close, finds your mouth and hangs her lips off yours. Clothes are discarded via fair or foul means, ripping, pulling, whatever means necessary for mutual nakedness. She forces you onto her, your breasts mutually moulding into each other, an infernal mess of soft throbbing flesh. Elia reaches down and grabs hold of you between your legs, pulls you further down so she can tease you, moisten you. She rubs on you expertly as if she knows exactly how you like it, caressing and probing inside you just as you need. You start bucking your hips frantically, the sheer urgency and unexpectedness of the occasion a potent mix framing the moment, giving it flavour and texture. It’s delightfully spicy to be doing this right after nearly dying and with both of you sporting mild to serious battle scars. Bestial noises escape the two of you, a grunt here, rattling throat there, and a screech of delight from Elia every few seconds. Hoarse breathing covers the sound of the grasshoppers outside; somehow keeping a steady rhythm in time with Elia’s fingering your pussy. You know yourself close and snake a hand down between you to attack your lover’s pussy a little. It’s about time she got some too. You rub the fleshy nub sitting just inside the folds of skin above the stretched wide opening. You mirror on her what she has done to you, and soon you see, feel and hear in her the very same she has awaken in you. Together at the end both in the final throes of climax, you both let it rip with a scream of pleasure, momentarily panicking at the erroneous thought that someone might hear you.

Exhausted now, from the fight, the sex, the fear and the pleasure, you collapse onto the bed beside Elia. Still apparently unconcerned for her leg, she snuggles up against you, head butting up against your shoulder, and promptly goes to sleep.

Turn to 220.