Draining Duty

I stepped away from Shadowheart’s tent and back toward the heart of camp, where the fire still breathed low and steady. The embers painted everything in copper and shadows, and the familiar damp cave air felt grounded. I was anything but. Too many teasing moments. Karlach had surrendered to Kagha’s firm hands, a massage that left her in shambles but me still aching; Shadowheart’s shattering orgasm had only wound the tension tighter. No release. Just pressure building, vein by vein, until every heartbeat felt like an ache in my shaft.

Lae’zel’s tent stood closest to the fire, placed with the same practical efficiency she brought to everything else. No secrecy. No flair. When I stepped inside she was already there.

She had discarded armor and ceremony alike. She stood tall and composed. The changes since last night were unmistakable now—lips fuller, tongue visibly longer darting out between her lips as if tasting the air. Corruption had sharpened her once again. She did not avert her gaze. She met mine, yellow eyes bright with open, unashamed want, loyalty without a trace of irony.

“You come to me at last,” she stated, her words edged with need.

“I need your skills. The others left me pent up tonight,” I answered.

Her nostrils flared, a flicker of purpose crossing her face, quickly swallowed by raw craving.

“Then use me,” she growled, voice rougher, thicker. “My mouth is yours. Fill it. **** me with your seed until I drown in it.”

The candlelight caught the faint sheen of sweat on her greenish-gray skin, the supple softening of her once-rigid lines—fuller, thicker, heavier in the most delectable way.

“On your knees,” I said, voice low and certain.

She complied without hesitation. Her knees hit the ground with quiet finality, back straight, chin lifted, hands resting lightly on her thighs as though this were the most natural position in the world. Satisfaction settled over her features, unmistakable. Her eyes burned with loud expectation.

“Good job,” I said.

Her lips curved into a sly smile, and her tongue slowly slipped free, stretching inch by inch—past her lips, past her chin—until her chin marked only the halfway point of its eager length.

I closed the remaining distance and freed myself. My cock sprang out, painfully hard, already leaking from pent-up frustration. She moaned low at the sight.

She leaned forward without waiting for permission and took me in one smooth, obscene glide. Her throat opened easily, lips sealing tight around the base. No gag. No pause. Just slick, perfect heat enveloping me to the hilt. Her dextrous tongue curled and rippled along the underside, stroking me from root to tip even as her throat muscles worked in rhythmic swallows, masturbating my length with deliberate, milking contractions.

I lost my breath as my body curled forward. It felt like being jerked off by velvet—hot, wet, alive, unlike everything I'd ever felt before.

She moaned around me, the vibration rolling straight into my balls. Her hands gripped my thighs, nails digging in, urging me deeper. She bobbed once, twice, then held herself down, nose pressed to my pelvis, throat fluttering in tight, rhythmic pulls that dragged pleasure up my spine in electric waves.

Her own body betrayed her need. One hand slid between her thighs, rubbing frantically, but she never broke rhythm. Her sole focus was my cock—sucking, swallowing, worshipping. Within moments her hips jerked; a muffled, shuddering moan vibrated around me as she came from nothing but the act of taking me. Her throat spasmed harder, milking me in greedy pulses, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth, slicking her chin.

I threaded my fingers into the short hair at the back of her head and started to thrust without holding back. She whined—high, ****—and pushed forward to meet every stroke, fucking her own face onto me with shameless hunger. Her tongue lashed wildly, curling around the head on every withdrawal, stroking my sensitive tip with devastating precision.

When I bottomed out fully—balls pressed to her chin, cock buried in the slick heat of her throat—I held her there.

Her eyes rolled back. A full-body shudder ripped through her. She came again—harder this time—thighs clamping together, hips bucking, a strangled, rumbling moan vibrating around my shaft as her throat convulsed in rhythmic waves. Tears streaked down her cheeks, not from discomfort but from overwhelming, corrupted bliss.

I tightened my grip on the back of her head and thrust once more—deep, brutal, pinning her in place. At the same moment I channeled an array of Alluring Blasts straight into the base of her skull, pink psychic energy surging through her nerves.

The pleasure ricocheted as she screamed around me, the sound muffled into a deep, rumbling vibration that tipped me over the edge. I came with a gasp, thick ropes pulsing straight down her throat. She swallowed greedily, drinking every drop as her own orgasm peaked again. Her eyes rolled fully white, lashes fluttering, a low broken moan rolling out around my cock as she came undone.

She stayed down for a long time—throat fluttering, body trembling—vacuum-sealing around me, sucking and swallowing until I was completely drained. Only when I was utterly empty did she slowly pull back, lips swollen and glistening, a thin string of cum and saliva connecting us for a moment before it broke. She licked her lips, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste.

She looked up at me, eyes hazy and worshipful, pupils blown wide.

“..So much..” she rasped, voice hoarse but thick with satisfaction. “Thick. Endless. All mine..” She trailed of into small moans.

I exhaled, still catching my breath. “Holy hell.”

A devious smirk curled at her lips. She licked them once more, searching any remains of my essence.

“You are welcome any time you need relief,” she said casually, “Especially when you have so much to give.” Her tongue flicked out again, tracing the corner of her mouth. “I will drain you completely. Every time.”

She slowly rose to her feet, stepped close, and pressed her forehead briefly to mine in a rare, intimate gesture of—what I assumed to be—Githyanki affection. Then sank back to her knees, curling against my thigh like a contented predator enjoying the spoils of a hunt, one arm draped loosely around my leg, cheek resting on my hip. Soft, almost purring sounds rumbled in her chest as she nuzzled closer, breathing slow and steady, utterly at peace.

For several long minutes we stayed like that—her kneeling, me standing, the fire crackling softly behind us. Her fingers traced idle patterns on my lower back, possessive and gentle in equal measure.

Eventually she pulled back just enough to look up at me, eyes still glassy but warm.

“Today was a good day. My Blade tasted blood,” she murmured, voice low and reverent, “and I tasted you.”

She pressed one last soft kiss to the head of my cock—almost adoring—then released me.

“Go,” she said quietly. “Rest. Tomorrow I will be ready again.”

I tucked myself away, the ache finally gone, replaced by a low, satisfied hum in my loins. I stepped back out into the cave and headed for the last stop, my new quarters.

Hi Everyone.
Thank you for you patience, please enjoy the new chapter.