An Intimate Meeting

Divorced from the need to establish trading relations with anyone, at least for the moment, Brialla really only had one thing to focus on: Kerendra. She’d filed away several warehouses and their carved symbols in her mind for later, when she could focus on mercantile matters. For the moment, though, that was impossible. Instead, having had fried fish and a salad for lunch, all she did, under the guise of languidly studying the increasing activity of the fishing village as the evening advanced, was call to mind an image of the sentinel. Her face. Lopsided smile. Lips. Drifting down to the strong core. To the defined abs, to the leather belt keeping up trousers of some tough and cured material, dark brown. Wouldn’t show stains, much. Creased. Expertly, but not entirely, concealing what lay beneath.

Still, it would be too needy to go and find Kerendra again, already, just a light meal later. She ought to just people watch the nocturnal Kaldorei, perhaps learn some factoid, some snippet, that she could make use of later.

The reality of the situation, several hours later, when she remained in the same wicker chair under blazing starlight, was that she had learned nothing. Instead, she had squirmed and shifted and burned with self-reinforced need. Half tempted to go back to her quarters, a small room on the first floor of the village inn, a building she was convinced was as much warehouse as a place for people to sleep, and solve the issue herself. The shy, private side of her encourage just that solution. The thoughts that urged and egged her on to do brash things rather wanted her to go and find the sentinel again, and try to shape something more real from two brief conversations.

Perhaps the Silvermoon lady’s advice wasn’t entirely wasted, then. Brialla had never had any noticeable gag reflex, and she imagined Kerendra might enjoy that, and be enticed to come back to the trader’s quarters at the end of her shift. Brialla could still feel, she told herself, her mind deceiving her, the spot on her cheek where the sentinel’s fingers had settled so very briefly. Surprisingly gentle, for one so large. Someone she could ostensibly feel safe with. Beneath.

Eyes glazed over, seeing without sensing anything, she shook her head. It was pointless to remain. All she gained was dry skin, dry, wind-blown hair, and an ever-burning flame of desire that consumed more and more of her. By that fire, she had warmed herself. Made her limbs and cheeks tingle.

She stood. She turned away from her long-consumed meal, having left a few coins as payment, and walked back towards the Priestess’ residence. Not for the Priestess, this time.

Arriving, Brialla sensed activity in the air. Almost bowled over by a third sentinel, an officer by the way she carried herself, leaving the house when Brialla approached the door. Gathering herself, sobering a little after intentionally getting herself drunk on lust for the past few hours, she entered. Kerendra and her companion were both there, talking. Darnassian was not so dissimilar from Thalassian, but different enough that native speakers clipping words and speaking quickly made it largely incomprehensible. All Brialla could really tell was that someone had to go somewhere. Kerendra’s attention turned to Brialla after a while, and the night elf offered an apologetic smile.

“Apologies, little one, but I’ve been tasked with escorting an Acolyte to the harbor. We will have to have our conversation another time.”

The second sentinel largely ignored Brialla, and when she didn’t, she employed a look similar to the male at the restaurant. Not actively aggressive, but one that told Brialla that, if she were to happen to become a smear on the landscape in that moment, there wouldn’t be any mourning. Not from that one, at least.

She snapped a breath, her mind again failing to bring her words. Watching Kerendra gather a few things, instead, Brialla felt the warmth inside drain, turning into a weight in her stomach. An emptiness, cold from the absence of the frenzy she had worked herself into. For a moment, the statuesque sentinel walked straight at her, and in that moment, she had the sense of being prey, and not minding it. It passed, that moment. Kerendra’s arm brushed against hers. She was leaving. Out the residence already.

“Wait,” the companion sentinel said, then. “Kerendra.”

“What?”

For a wonderful moment, hope blossomed in Brialla’s chest. Her next breath felt as if it might just let her fly. Raised her up, made her lighter, her feet just barely holding on to the floor. She looked to the companion, and told herself she saw what Kerendra had said about the sentinel.

“I’d like a walk. The Acolyte won’t care which one of us comes with her. You mind staying?”

Kerendra made only a brief show of considering that suggestion. Drew in a breath, rolled her shoulders, looked up at the stars. Looked to Brialla, too, an openly appraising look, from head to toes, and then up again. Locking eyes. She nodded, then, and turned her attention back to her companion.

“Fine. I guess I’ll be the one to sit around inside. I’m too kind to you.”

“Real kind,” the companion said, smoothly pushing past Brialla, and then Kerendra. She shared a few words with the latter, and then she was off.

Kerendra walked back inside, and, rather than take up her post, she stopped after a few paces. In front of Brialla. Looking down, canting her head. Reinforcing the sense of being prey. Tolerated, even enjoyed, the way the humans might enjoy looking at piglets tumbling in a sty, only to eat them two years later with no regrets.

An unflattering thought, but one dispelled from her mind a moment later when the night elf’s right index finger nudged up under her chin. Not that any urging was needed to make her look up, but the gesture sent transfixing, jolting lines of emotion down her spine, through her body. Not lifting her chin, but having it lifted, even a fraction of an inch, made her throat feel ****.

“Can’t hear any of that promised screaming, little one. Perhaps if we move a bit further in?”

Brialla found her tongue as the night elf half-turned and moved further into the cross-shaped house. Aside, into the right arm, populated with several chairs and a chaise. She followed, speaking. “The Priestess won’t hear us here?”

“The Priestess encourages her guards to enjoy themselves,” Kerendra said. She nudged the leg of a comfortably upholstered chair with her boot-clad right foot, seeming to find it wanting. Instead of sitting, she merely turned, widening her stance. “She feels that enjoying our posting will make us better, more devoted guardians.”

Brialla pulled her lower lip in between her teeth for a moment, concealing a smile that nevertheless sparkled in her golden eyes. The jitters of anxiety still ceaselessly throbbing in her chest, but the tingling warmth was by far the more overpowering sensation. In her cheeks, her arms, her thighs, her knees, oddly. Stepping closer, pursing her lips, she lifted her right hand. Splayed fingers carefully finding homes against Kerendra’s skin, the solidity and warmth beneath her digits causing a thought-quelling rush of heat to course through her mind. The salt-and-grass-and-sunbaked-rock scent of the Kaldorei filled her nostrils.

“Perhaps… I could help,” she said, her voice near a whisper. Not intentionally. She traced a single finger downwards until it was stopped by the hem of the sentinel’s trousers, and the more solid belt. “If a mere sin’dorei can be of use to the devoted guardians of Elune.”

Without a word, Kerendra’s arms wrapped around Brialla. Around her waist, hands coming to rest on her hips for a few seconds, their eyes still meeting. Expressions darting between indulgent smiles and more bare, hungering looks. The night elf’s hands smoothed up over Brialla’s flanks, curving up over her chest, collarbone, halting briefly around her throat. There, and to the top of her shoulders, they applied downwards pressure, and, having already guessed where things might go, Brialla sank to the floor, on her knees, at the sentinel’s urging.

The clinking of a belt buckle handled by fingers just slightly shaky filled the room, and kept filling it, as much as such a thin sound could. Brialla struggled, though the clasp was no riddle. Kerendra exhaled amusement through her nose, prying the buckle open herself, trailing the back of her right hand down the side of the blood elf’s cheek.

“Nervous?”

“No-- yes. You’re, ah…”

“First Kaldorei?”

Brialla nodded, focusing on the task at hand. She wasn’t embarrassed, exactly. Excited, certainly, and more than a little worried about the expansive bulge now easily spotted in the night elf’s left trouser leg. It was what she had wanted since first laying her eyes on the towering elf, and what she had expected, and what she sought. And, now that it was within reach, the thought of it, the presence of it, filled her mind.

“We’ll go slow. Don’t worry,” Kerendra said.

“No, we won’t.”

“We won’t?”

“No,” Brialla said. She had yet to look up, instead undoing four buttons. Tugging trousers open, down, revealing the base of the sentinel’s huge, fat cock. Lazily, languidly growing thicker, longer, still. She caught its pleasant musk, wetting her lips with her tongue. Another tug at the hem of Kerendra’s pants, and they finally sagged, her meager strength overcoming the resistance presented by that shaft’s pressure on the fabric.

“Didn’t come here to go slow.”

She felt the sentinel’s fingers pressing into her hair, atop her head. Going further, until locks were entwined and spiraled around those digits, and it would have been quite difficult for her to extract herself from Kerendra’s grip, had she wanted to. Brialla’s focus was elsewhere, leaning in, swallowing, her lips hovering half an inch above that hardening, smoothly-veined monster’s base. Their first kiss waited only briefly, her soft pillows pressing against that steely flesh, spreading a thin coat of saliva as her lips smushed against it.

“Good girl,” Kerendra said, her voice having grown a touch throatier. Rasping, deeper. Approving. “Keep going.”

Brialla did not need the urging-on, though she was pleased that the Kaldorei was not one of the strong, silent types. Not when it came to this kind of attention, at least. She dug her fingers in, curling around that thick cockshaft as far as she could, which turned out not to be terribly far. Clearly, the rumors about the Kaldorei overstated nothing. Understated, really. She employed her other hand, and with it, she managed to pull the whole, massive beast from its constricting home. Below, still housed in those now surely much more comfortably loose trousers hung the sentinel’s weighty, churning balls.

Not wanting to neglect her chance at a prize she might never again in her life be presented with, Brialla moved one hand to carefully, gingerly cup and lift one of those half head-sized nuts. Heavy. Sloshing. Waiting for a chance to unleash, and likely having waited for a cruelly long time. She wouldn’t have thought the night elf would lack for partners, but then, she might just back up rather quickly. Or be too dedicated to her duty to find much time to enjoy herself.

Lifting the shaft was an ordeal in itself, even as it hardened, throbbed, and provided some of its own lift. With only one hand to steady it, Brialla planted her saliva-smeared lips against the thick, pliant bulge of the cumvein, still remaining near the base of the monster. Letting it smack against her face, finding a home next to her nose, covering her right eye. The entire right side of her face, and up well past her hair.

“I’ll start us off,” Brialla started saying.

“—and I’ll finish, when you start needing help,” Kerendra finished for her. “You’re rather eager. Good.”

And, partially to her own surprise, Brialla really was quite eager. Excited at the prospect of feeling needy, tense muscle mashed against her face, when the sentinel reached a climax. She assumed it would be in her throat. Strong, protective hands locked behind her head, keeping her in place. Safe, in some sense. Taken by someone strong, a superior mate. She pursed her lips into a brief peck of a kiss, dismissing her daydreams for the real thing.

Brialla once more grasped the massive cockshaft with both small hands, delicate fingers slowly stroking up and down, just an inch or so, holding it in place for her to part her lips and drag the flat of her tongue up along it, journeying up the inches by way of messy, spit-bubbling and smearing kisses and more slow, savoring licks. Dragging her lips the last of the way up to the tip of the Kaldorei’s broad, deep purple cockhead, meeting a first pearl of beading precum. It joined with the sheen of drool she had pulled with her, and made her taste salt and a hint of sweetness. Odd. Not that she complained, or wasted time.

She planted a kiss against the firm crown of Kerendra’s shaft, but kept leaning into the kiss, pushing into it, her lips parting, expanding, until she gaped her mouth wide open and continued to try to fit the monster into her maw. Already, she could feel helping hands and tugging fingers at the back of her head, locks of hair tightening in that grip just so. Encouraging digits, dragging her just that little deeper, pushing her tongue flat inside her mouth as she slipped further, bubbling saliva helping seal the huge, fat crown against the opening of her throat. Kerendra backed off just an inch or so, allowing her to draw in several high-pitched, snapping breaths. Then pressing forward again.

Brialla raised her head, trying to make her throat a straighter path for her Kaldorei partner, looking up at the concentrated, intense expression above her. Kerendra clearly enjoyed her present task, even going so far as to wink, accompanying a first leaning forward, more than a thrust, managing to sink two inches of immense cock down the sin’dorei’s throat.

The girl’s throat began to bulge outwards to accommodate the hefty cockshaft pushing down, in, causing the first thick bubbles of drool to begin seeping from her mouth. Lips sealed around the girth somehow still had flexibility to let those strings of saliva spill and run towards her chin. She made a straining sound, vibrating in her throat, and elicited the two words she’d hoped from Kerendra.

“Good girl.”

Brialla’s eyes scrunched up, their golden light somewhat diminished in the dusky residence, overtaken by the Kaldorei’s pale blue. There was nothing to be done about it, even if she had wanted to. Her mouth pried so far open that she felt certain that she could not take another half an inch, her eyes naturally closed halfway, her face straining to contain that massive cock. The first little bit of it. Not even a fourth of it, yet, though Kerendra’s stern, insistent grip brought that landmark ever closer. The rim of that broad, slowly pulsing cock-crown had long since slipped past Brialla’s lips, and now that slight flare, at its widest, ground and pushed and prodded at the back of her mouth, slipping inexorably inwards. Down. Into her constricting, tight throat.

Without Brialla’s thought, or involvement, her body worked helplessly to try to expel the invader. Rhythmically tensing, no doubt bringing the night elf the pleasure she sought, and doing less than nothing to deter the rolling of that strong pelvis, those powerfully-muscled thighs, in driving it forward. She allowed a sound of slight distress to escape her as another wave of saliva was ****, bubbling, from her lips, around that steel-hard shaft. Gravity made it roll down to her jaw, to her chin, where cables of the thick liquid hung, drooping, breaking to drip onto the floor. Onto Brialla’s chest, and neck, and collarbone, and thighs.

She raised her hands, massaging the sentinel’s thighs, pushing upwards to her chiseled stomach. Not quite offering any resistance, yet. Rising a little to meet each rolling half-thrust, in fact. Letting her eyes slip closed, feeling the intense, massive presence, wrestling with the strain, allowing it to wash over her. The strong hands behind her head allowed nothing else, and so, inch after massively fat inch of Kaldorei cock jammed and ground and thrust down her throat. Past her throat. Further.

Too big. Too fucking big. But this was precisely what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Too much.

Brialla’s lips warped and smushed, and so did her nose. The final, fat inch, pressed into her gaping, hungering maw, Kerendra’s firm grip holding her in place. Her lungs burned, and so did her thoughts. Demanding breath, she tried to still herself, allowing the Kaldorei to savor the moment. To withdraw perhaps five inches, and then ram them back in. Harder than anything come before, a sign of the pace and strength she could expect. It caused another flood of saliva to spill from her, and the drooping ropes began to splatter against the sentinel’s heavy balls, too, those orbs finding a temporary home against Brialla’s throat in those eternal moments where Kerendra bottomed out entirely in the small blood elf’s throat.

Again, five inches were withdrawn. And again, plunged back into her straining throat, Kerendra’s pelvis smacking against her face. Brialla curled her fingers, cheeks burning with the impact, but also with the need for air, subjected to another slam-fucking thrust. Shaking digits against tense, hard muscle, ever more hard, thick dick pulled from her maw, only to be piston-fucked back in, her face repeatedly hammering into the sentinel’s muscled form.

She dug her nails in, at last, unable to take the foggy, overpowering need for air any longer, and, after having held herself in to the absolute root for a few seconds too long, Kerendra pulled back. Drool-covered, girthy inches of that monster withdrawn. Just far enough, remaining in Brialla’s mouth, still, merely unclogging her throat. It was then, in between high-pitched, **** gasping for breath, that she realized that the Kaldorei’s production of precum had grown rather copious, now mixing with the spittle that flowed from her lips, and with what she swallowed back down. Enough to put anyone’s full performance to shame, back in Quel’thalas. Again, she gasped, and produced not words, but an assenting sound.

“Good girl,” Kerendra said.

With those two words, the Kaldorei pressed her immense cockshaft back in, bottomed out, in a single, smooth movement. Not a single thrust, but close enough that, when she’d secured her grip of Brialla’s head again, she withdrew almost to the same extent, only to slam herself back in. To the root. The girl’s throat constricting, tightening, rebelling, but able to do nothing as the maneuver was repeated once, twice, thrice. Settled into, as a punishing, deep rhythm, punctuated mostly by Kerendra’s needy, hard expulsions of air. Little nothings whispered, lost in the endless, hard ramming of Brialla’s face into statuesque Kaldorei muscle.

She felt certain that several minutes passed with that punishing pace, the sentinel growing increasingly brutal in her thrusts, chasing precisely the high that Brialla wanted to give her. An orgasm she had not imagined would come quite so slowly, but then, the sentinel had more cock to please than she had ever thought possible. Her cheeks and nose burned from repeated impacts, but the tingling, continually building heat melded with the rising, warm fog that stopped her from thinking. Made her feel pleasant. Useful. Groaning pleasure, whispered praise from above, and each completed thrust reinforcing that feeling.

The pumping, merciless pace halted, then, for Kerendra to hold herself in, entirely bottomed out, grinding as if she had another secret inch to cram into Brialla’s maw, and down her throat. There was no more, just that monster presenting itself by the bulge it caused. She curled her fingers against the sentinel’s thighs, but did not dig in her nails. Blinked several times, tears caused by the intense, clenching pressure rolling down her cheeks to mix with the saliva and throatslop that linked their bodies.

How long that still conquest lasted, her lips around the root of that log of a cock, Brialla could not be certain of. It felt an eternity. Half a minute? A full minute? She fought to remain pliant, but, in the instant before she would have signaled for the Kaldorei to pull back and let her breathe, that mammoth cockshaft was hauled backwards, and upwards. Allowing her to gasp and whine for breath, feeling certain that she would have collapsed to the floor if not for the hands holding her up by her head, and by her hair.

Four, then five **** gulps of air, and then Kerendra pressed back in. Down. Spearing down the small blood elf’s throat, inch upon huge, fat inch disappearing into her maw, and further down. Were the night elf even an inch longer, Brialla felt certain that the head would have been in her stomach. She blinked away another pair of tears, but they were not allowed to run freely. Once again, after a few hard, pounding thrusts, Kerendra pulled her all the way up to meet that chiseled stomach and pelvis again, lips and nose flattening. Gaping almost absurdly, so as to fit every inch of that smoothly veined, hard treetrunk dick into her mouth, and throat. Held it.

Another half minute passed before Kerendra picked up her thrusts again. There was an undertone to the rhythmic, slam-fucking movements now, though, something primal, needy. Disturbing the pace, making it just a little erratic. Ever more, with each thrust.

Understanding that she was unlikely to be allowed any more breaths until the coupling came to its natural conclusion, Brialla moved her hands to gently cup the sentinel’s large, heavy balls. Cradling them to her skin when the sentinel bottomed out in her throat, and held her down. Merely caressing when the brutal pace continued.

That unabashed need that made Kerendra’s thrusts erratic began to show itself in breaths that were held back, and then let out only in strained, struggling bursts. Her broad, densely-muscled frame tightening, tensing as she rammed into Brialla’s face, coordinating those reflexive hardenings of musculature with hitting the deepest point inside the sin’dorei. Clearly, she came ever closer, and closer.

Until, at last, the large Kaldorei’s pace broke down, and she managed only to bury herself once, twice, halfway once, and then entirely, thrice. That grip around Brialla’s head hardened, needlessly. She wasn’t trying to escape, but understood the primal need to lock her in place, allowing no escape from the inevitable climax.

Kerendra’s frame tensed further, her breathing ceasing entirely for several seconds. Slackening for just an instant, and then hardening once more. That first, colossal load pumped from the night elf, expanding that already thick cumvein beneath her shaft, a thumb-thick, molten, copious rope of seed hammering, pumping directly into the blood elf’s stomach. That single length, shot with bruising ****, felt as if it filled her all on its own, but the grip of her head promised more. They were not nearly done.

She managed to crack a single eye open, able to marvel at the near mechanical regularity of the elf’s muscles contracting. Sharp, staccato, mercilessly powerful instants, each sending another sweltering, fat load into her. The second, third, fourth made her move her hands down to her previously taut, flat stomach, cradling the growing dome of it. No escape. More of those absurdly potent, flooding jets, pumped directly into her overfull stomach, each causing it to bulge just that little bit more. Ten. Fifteen.

Brialla lost the ability to count, to keep track, once they went past twenty, knowing only that she was held in place, demanding hands allowing her to be nowhere else. The powerful, pumping orgasm of the sentinel supplanting its **** into her face, and into her torso, muscles working to fill her clearly felt.

Saliva started to mix with what she tasted as the Kaldorei’s cum, fat drops of it forcing their way up past that length to intermingle with her spit, drool running to her chin again. Slipping, splattering down onto her increasingly pregnant-looking stomach. This obscene display only grew more intense as moments passed, though the sentinel finally seeming to near the end of her copious climax. Rocking the innermost, thickest inches of that behemoth cock in and out of Brialla’s throat, but pulling more and more out with each roll of her hips.

For just a few seconds, Brialla worried that Kerendra was making ready for round two, but, mercifully, the sentinel hauled more and more girthy inches of that massive dick out, pulling spittle and cum with her, which the blood elf struggled to contain in her mouth, at least, rather than spilling it down herself. Dutifully, though, she kept her cradling hold of Kerendra’s nuts, only letting go when that broad cockhead slipped back up into her mouth, and then further out. Hanging in the air, before her, as she drew in urgent, whining breaths. Calming herself. Calming her mind, which still panicked about how little precious air she had managed to suck into her lungs in the last few minutes.

Conquering herself, her gasping for breath, the overfull feeling of that sloshing, huge dome of seed that was her once-flat stomach, she pursed her lips, leaned forward, and planted a kiss upon the tip of the sentinel’s cock-crown.

“More than I… thought. Bargained for,” Brialla hissed, sitting back on her behind, on the floor, legs spread to make room for her stomach. She looked up at Kerendra, the sentinel covered in a sheen of sweat, looking profoundly relieved. And very satisfied. “You’re quite… something.”

“You’re quite something,” Kerendra replied. She reached down, caressing Brialla’s cheek, and hair, and the base of one of those pointed ears. “More talented than I could have hoped for.”

Brialla exhaled, trying to relax. Her face felt warm. Likely mildly bruised from the hard, repeated thrusts. She reached up, trying to remove the worst of the cum-mixed saliva from her visage.

“We could spend a little more time together. Later. Tomorrow morning, when you’re done here? I have a place at the inn. Could serve you breakfast.” The words spilled from her, almost without filter. She wanted the Kaldorei to like her. To want her. Somehow. Why? She was the one who’d given of herself, wasn’t she? And yet, she very much wanted Kerendra to show up, the next morning.

“Tomorrow morning?”

“You’ll have had all night to think of me.”

“Breakfast?”

“You’ve… taken care of dinner, I think,” Brialla said, running a slightly shaky hand over her bulging, sloshing stomach. She placed her hands against the floor and, with Kerendra’s aiding hand under one of her shoulders, managed to stand. “Breakfast. Tomorrow. Room sixteen?”

“I’ll be there. Breakfast or no,” Kerendra said.

The sentinel sent a lopsided smile at Brialla, who dearly hoped that the warming, bruising redness left behind by the thrusts concealed the somehow more embarrassing heat caused by a mere smile. Raising one hand, placing it against the Kaldorei’s statuesque frame, caressing down over her abs, Brialla then turned. Walked, unsteadily, towards the exit of the building. Saliva and seed splattered down over her front, her stomach bulging, she felt a need to hurry, to skulk. Some remnant of pride in her family name, not because she blamed Kerendra. She wanted Kerendra. Wanted it to continue. To be worse. Her cheeks burned at that thought, and she hurried, half-stumbling, away.

So quickly, and so focused was Brialla, that she did not notice Kerendra’s companion guard returning.