Insatiable

Brialla closed the circular door of her home behind her, and spent a moment leaning her forehead against the wood. Shaped, as most kaldorei buildings were, not by tools readily available and well-known to most of the species of the world, but rather by the words and nature bonds of a druid. To their specifications, in part. To the druid’s whims, in lesser part. To a greater degree, walls and floors and ceilings and such things seemed rather to have grown and filled out according to the whims of nature itself. To where the sun had shone, to where there had been water. Perhaps it would have been simpler to study under a druid, rather than to insist on trying to make mercantile enterprise work among the kaldorei.

Perhaps.

Nevertheless, Brialla exhaled, pushing off from the door when it was no longer cool against her forehead, hoping that she had not imprinted some latticework pattern into her skin. It would be impossible for Kerendra not to focus on it, and, just that moment, Brialla needed her mate to be sharp, to center thoughts around how to beat Salka. How to convince the priestess. Or, possibly, put a good word in with a nearby druid, if everything came crashing down.

She made her way to their kitchen, both of them, independently, seeming to have come to the same conclusion. Tea-time. Kerendra had just boiled the water, and, knowing Brialla’s tastes, by now, had prepared two mugs, into which she poured. She did not even look over her shoulder. They both knew each other’s steps, had long ago learned each other’s scent. Breathing. The little pitch or pressure which indicated annoyance, or need, or contentedness. Not that such intimate knowledge was necessary, in that moment – Brialla was obvious with her annoyed half-sighs.

Rather than speaking, she padded up to stand before her mug, while Kerendra set the kettle back on the wood stove with some care. Near emptied of water, it steamed for but a moment, making the already heavy atmosphere inside their home all the heavier, until the guttering remnants of water were gone. By which time, Kerendra had silently moved over to stand next to Brialla. Placed a hand at the small of her back, which rubbed a pleasing, circular pattern into her.

“We need to convince her of my dedication to the kaldorei if I’m to have a chance,” Brialla said. “Somehow. How much more dedicated can I be?”

“She wants you to fight, doesn’t she?”

“I think she wants to feel like I’ll be loyal, no matter what,” Brialla said. “She isn’t the type who’d expect me to get facial markings and join up with you and your sisters.”

Rather than respond verbally, Kerendra let out an affirming, assenting sound, a satisfied sigh. Fingers circling started to climb, rather than comfort and massage, until they found a home behind Brialla’s head, locks of hair entwined between still casually parted fingers.

“Perhaps we should… expand the family?”

“You want another,” Kerendra said. Rather than take a firm grip, the hand in Brialla’s hair snaked around the side of her head, and urged her to lean into, against her mate’s strong shoulder and upper arm. “Just to prove to the priestess that you’re loyal?”

“Maybe I’ve been thinking of another for a while,” Brialla said. “Elennia is becoming more independent. She seems to fit in well, here. I was afraid she’d be ostracized, but—”

“Is this about her, or the priestess? Or, you, my girl?”

Kerendra used a Darnassian word for girl which Brialla had never truly been able to translate. Not child. Not condescending. A kind of affectionate more-than-friend term, without implying that they were mated, even though they were. It was a word that she desired, and yet, it also frustrated her. Made her wish to do more, to push further. Which, almost certainly, was the point.

“All three,” Brialla said, having allowed silence to reign between them for a few seconds. “I don’t recall you objecting to the notion the last time I brought it up, either.”

“I want another,” Kerendra said. “I want you. And me. But another child isn’t going to change the priestess’ decision right this moment.”

“No,” Brialla said. “Maybe. Maybe not.” She breathed in, and then sighed that breath out, relaxing against Kerendra. “One of the guards at the priestess’ door said something about a hunt. Asking you if you were coming.”

“I wasn’t going to. But maybe I can get something useful out of them,” Kerendra said. She raised her mug, blew on the still steaming liquid’s surface, and tried a small sip. Grimacing and sucking on her almost scalded lip, she set it down again. “Just a common sentinel, now. But I’ll go and hunt. Speak to them, and learn what’s going on. What we might do – maybe they’ll know something about the priestess’ worries, or visitors.”

“They won’t be leaving for a few hours yet,” Brialla said. She tilted her head backwards, looking up, trying to catch Kerendra’s eyes. She succeeded in doing so.

“The tea will get cold.”

“And you’ll be satisfied when you go hunting, my dearest,” Brialla said. “They’re jealous. If they get the sense that you might’ve… let’s give them something to be jealous of, no? Aren’t you worked up, from earlier?”

“You’re insatiable,” Kerendra said. Her tone playfully chastising, as if she were only reluctantly indulging Brialla, who had turned, delicate fingers working to undo Kerendra’s belt, while still looking up. Their eyes met. Lingered on one-another’s.

Brialla sank down on her knees, pressing the first button of Kerendra’s trousers open. She would have time alone, at home, to recover from the coupling, stomach bulging. Kerendra would no doubt be all the more convincing when she met her former colleagues, having just had every drop of seed sucked greedily from her by her most loving wife.

“Does that mean you want me to stop?”

“It was… admiration,” Kerendra said, halting briefly when Brialla leaned in, pressing her lips to the base of that massively thick monster of a cock.