Morning Worship

Late morning, they lay together in the bed they had shared for near ten years, huddled for warmth, yet having shed the covers. Brialla, at least when they were alone, took to employing her sturdy sentinel-wife’s chiseled abs as a kind of uneven, slowly shifting table, rising and falling with Kerendra’s breaths. There was ever business to attend to, correspondence with which to deal, accounts to settle and check. Expenses for her handful of employees. Appointments to keep track of, something she continued to do herself, not quite successful enough that she could have someone around purely as her own assistant. So, instead, she took care of these matters with Kerendra’s hand lazily caressing her upper back, her shoulder, the back of her head. She leaned down, in between one letter and the next, pressing a kiss to her beloved’s skin, dotting her lips dangerously close to the base of that monstrously thick dick.

Many things had changed since her first arriving on kalimdor, but certain things never did. Her desire for what Kerendra could offer had never waned, and it was a wonderful tool for evening out any disagreements they might have, too. Something she had never been prepared for, at home, sparse as any talks about what to do with a partner, how to coexist with someone else, had been.

A final letter at hand, and then she might indulge in just that tool. If she kept hinting, suggestively pressing her lips closer and closer to Kerendra’s thick base, it would soon become irrelevant whether she wanted to deal with more inquiries, anyway. There was only so long she could draw things out, tease her beloved, though prodding and poking the metaphorical, growling saber was always engaging.

“The priestess has gathered a shipment of goods,” Brialla said, having opened the final communique of the day. It was late. They would sleep, soon. Possible after ensuring that her stomach bulged with the fruits of her beloved’s pleasure. “Ivory, furs, herbs, art, cultural pieces produced on order. To be sent to Quel’thalas.”

“And she tells you this, personally?”

“Not just me,” Brialla whispered, half distracted by looking up at Kerendra, and then lowering herself to kiss one hard, bulging curve of muscle. “It reads more like a ‘to whom it may concern’ sort of letter.”

“Who else would it concern? You’re the only one here with connections to Quel’thalas,” Kerendra said. She carefully pushed spread fingers into Brialla’s hair, at the back of her head. Locks trapped between digits, all of which where ready to bunch up for a more secure hold. A hold that remained elusive.

“She’s the one who gathered it all up. Which means whoever’s interested will be competing for her favor,” Brialla said. She let the letter slip her fingers, the paper hissing as it slipped down Kerendra’s side, and then off the bed, to the floor. Forgotten by both, Brialla’s eyes resting on Kerendra’s for as long as possible as she kissed a trail from navel and down to the hilt of that huge, fat dick. An inch onto it, and then another.

“Best to go meet her, I suppose,” Kerendra said.

“Best to.”

“In a hurry?”

“I have to be able to walk to go and meet her, dearest,” Brialla said. She smiled, and then planted another lingering kiss directly against the base of Kerendra’s massive shaft. “Which means, I’m afraid, that you will have to wait until I return.”

“Don’t stare too deeply into the eyes of any guardian sentinel, my love,” Kerendra said. She relaxed her fingers, though they remained at the back of Brialla’s skull.

“Tsh.” Brialla emitted a mock scornful sound, delicate fingers curling around Kerendra’s shaft, offering a single stroke. “No one compares. You know that well enough.”