Whispers

Steven staggered back to the guild, the Mistveil’s fog swirling thick as the buzz from The Salty Anchor—kraken skewers, eel, wine, and ale—hummed in his veins. The night had deepened, lanterns casting pools of light, and as he neared the barracks hall, Melissa leaned against the wall by the guard, her silver hair glinting. “Hey, honey,” she said, her voice a playful tease, her comfy ash-gray set hugging her sculpted curves. He stumbled closer, grinning sloppy. “Hey there, sweet thing,” he slurred, old Earth slang slipping out in his drunk haze. She laughed, bright and warm. “Have a good time?”

“Just hit the tavern—first real food here, got a little drunk. Worth it!” he boasted, swaying. She giggled, eyes sparkling. “Ye’re somethin’ else, Stevey.” He fished out 1 copper, handing it to the guard with a clumsy nod, and they stumbled into his room, the door thudding shut.

The ale fueled his mood—he scooped her up, tossing her onto the bed with a playful growl. She squealed, giggling, “Oh, tough guy!” He clambered on, stripping her fast—her tunic and trousers flung aside, her tiny, enhanced frame bared—then shed his own Stormgull Flyer, clothes hitting the floor in a heap. Drunk and bold, he grabbed his dick, jerking it ‘til hard, his breath heavy. She lay back, legs parting, her coin-slot pussy glistening—tight, perfect. He lined up, sliding in slow—her moan broke the air, sharp and needy as he filled her.

He thrust, towering over her tiny gnome body, driving deep—wild from her view, this human hulk pounding home. She couldn’t hold it in—moans spilled loud, “Oh, Steven—fuck, yes!”—her voice echoing as her little frame rocked beneath him, barely taking his ****. “I love ye, Steven,” she gasped mid-thrust, her soulbound heat flaring, her hands clutching the sheets. He grinned, drunk and fierce, hammering on—her tightness gripped him, her moans a siren’s call. His climax hit fast, a hot rush spilling inside her—and through his Soulbinding Lvl 3, she came too, synced to him, her body quaking. “Oh my gods—mmmmm!” she squealed, a final, shuddering cry as pleasure wrecked her.

He collapsed beside her, spent, the ale and sex dragging him under—he passed out instantly, fully satisfied. Melissa curled against him, smiling soft, her silver hair fanning over his chest. She leaned close, whispering in his ear, “Ye’re the best thing to ever happen to me,” her voice honest, raw. Her head settled on his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum, and she soon followed, drifting into sleep, their bond a quiet glow in the dark.