(10) Elarinya insists we stay

Elarinya gasped as the bottom elf groaned in what sounded like a blend of shame, a little bit of pain, and some pleasure.

“Oh dear! Nythalias sure is giving it to Hadrias... oh my!”

So it was Nythalias taking charge! I stood there for a second, trapped between my royal upbringing and the raw, explicit spectacle happening just yards away. The heat in my face was hot enough to melt snow, but something kept my eyes pinned squarely on the two night elves. It took me a moment to realise that Elarinya was just as transfixed as me, if not more!

She let out a soft, trembling breath, her hand slowly gripping my upper arm. Every time Nythalias delivered another heavy, wet thrust, her fingers would twitch, tightening against my sleeve.

“They... they are highly competitive,” she whispered, her voice losing its steady edge and dropping into a low, husky purr.

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting from the glistening wrestler bodies back to Elarinya. Her golden eyes were wide, tracking the friction with a hunger that made my own chest tighten. She shifted even closer, her warm thigh pressing firmly against mine as Hadrias let out another loud, desperate cry of surrender, completely shattering whatever was left of our polite composure.

A faint, embarrassed pink dusted her cheeks as she caught me staring. She quickly cleared her throat, though her gaze immediately drifted back to the grunting pair in the clearing.

“Perhaps...” she murmured as she gently tugged on my sleeve. “We could stay... just a few more minutes? To ensure they do not... injure themselves in their passion.”

She looked down, biting her lip, but her fingers remained wrapped tightly around my arm, keeping me anchored right beside her...