The Legend of Bran

Written in collaboration with Namichwan

Bran grunted with exertion, the rhythmic beat of the bed frame against the wall a constant accompaniment to the whore's squeals of delight.

Her cunt fit snugly around his massive cock, but it was a tight squeeze. The girl's pussy was practically **** him with the way it clamped around his shaft. It was hard to push in, but once he got through, he'd felt a surge of elation course through his body.

It was a hot, humid night. The summer air was still and quiet. A warm breeze blew over Bran, carrying with it the smells of the city: smoke from the factories, stagnant water from the sewers, the fresher odor of the nearby bay.

Bran's heart was beating fast as he fucked Isuri. He really shouldn't be spending his pay on this already, he'd only visited this brothel just last week. But it was so hard to resist. He needed some comfort after the day he'd had at the factory. A man could put up with a lot when he had a hot piece of ass like this to unload into.

Damn, but she felt so good! The feeling of her soft skin under his hands as he caressed her breasts, the way she gasped as he pinched her nipples, her legs wrapped around his waist. She was squeezing his cock so tight, like she wanted him to fill her up.

The whore began to buck her hips in time with his thrusts. He could feel her pussy clenching around him as he moved in and out. She was getting close. He grabbed her ass and pounded into her harder. She moaned, loudly.

Bran groaned. He couldn't hold back much longer. He thrust in one final time, then exploded deep inside her, roaring. His cock spasmed, shooting out rope after rope of hot cum, filling her pussy until it overflowed, leaking out between her legs.

She moaned softly as he collapsed on top of her. They lay together for a moment, catching their breath, then Bran rose, pulling out of her. He watched as a thick strand of cum spilled out of her gaping pussy and pooled on the bedsheets.
Madame Kavita had plenty of seedsbane for her girls. He'd paid extra for the privilege of spilling the contents of his sack where it was supposed to go, marking Isuri in more ways than one for her next customer.

He looked down at her, lying there, covered in sweat, breathing heavily. "Thanks," he said.

"My pleasure," she replied. "How was it for you?"

Bran shrugged. "It was alright." He got off the bed and started getting dressed. His cock slapped against his thighs as he pulled on his pants.

"Just alright?" Isuri looked at him with mock indignation. "You've got a monster between your legs, Bran. What more do you want? You were basically in my throat from the other end!'
Bran laughed. "You were amazing, Isuri. Some good pussy is all I need to get through the day. "
She grinned. "Well, thanks for the compliment. And for the payment."

He finished buttoning his shirt and picked up his boots. "What are you gonna do now?"

"I don't know. Sleep, maybe?" She stretched languidly, displaying her perfect breasts. "I'm sure I'll find something."

Bran smirked, "See if your next bloke can touch the sides?"

Isuri laughed. "Oh, you're funny! But seriously, I don't know. Maybe I'll just sleep in for the next couple days."

"Have a good rest." Bran put on his boots and gave her a wink. "I'll be back to visit sometime."

"Looking forward to it!" Isuri rolled over onto her stomach, arching her back, presenting her ass to him and the fine sight of his seed still flowing thickly from her snatch, "Until next time, big boy."

Bran grinned as he stepped out of her room.

Bran trudged out of the dimly lit brothel, his mind still clouded with a mix of pleasure and fatigue. Adjusting his pants to accommodate the weighty burden of the night's escapades, he embarked on the journey back to his boarding house. The streets of the lower district were a maze of shadows and whispers, fraught with the dealings of the city's underbelly.

It was a night that was supposed to be empty, but Bran felt like someone was watching him this time. He yawned, stretched, and decided to ignore the feeling. The dark corners of the city he didn’t mind it too much, the well lit streets knew how to keep the shadows away and whispers preferred to keep to themselves if they knew what was good for them.

At the end of the street he’d already encountered someone he knew.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the never go-to muscle for hire!” Osiya called out to him. She had messy short hair, Fire Nation heritage, and a face with the kind of sharp angles that could cut the air. Her clothing was a jarring combination of the practical and the exotic. A loose green top covered her breasts, leaving her midriff bare, but her long blue skirt was lined with golden embroidery and patterned with jagged lines that looked like flames.

There were a couple of Triple Threat toughs lingering nearby, the fellow with the small pointed chin beard giving Bran a nod. He'd done a couple of jobs for Republic City's resident ten ton flying bison of a Triad. Nothing too serious, just a few minor acts of intimidation and some petty theft. Osiya had a reputation as a fixer, connecting people in need with people who could make things happen. She had a hand in just about everything illegal or shady in this corner of the city.

Trying to not think about how much thinking he’d devoted to imagining splitting Osiya’s tight little ass open, he said, "Hey there, Osiya. Haven't seen you in a while."

"Doing well, Bran," Osiya replied, smiling broadly. "I see you've been enjoying the pleasures of Madame Kavita's fine establishment. I hope you weren't too rough on poor Isuri, what with that ‘gift of the horse spirit’ of yours.”

He was torn between dismay at Osiya’s wise-ass nature, always seemed to be one step ahead, her nose in everyone's business and smug appreciation that his dick was living rent-free in her head. "What do you want, Osiya? I'm tired. Just want to get home and sleep."

She leaned back against the brick wall and swayed her hips in a way that drew Bran's eyes and roused his prick, despite the weariness that dragged at his limbs. "You need to stop pussy-footing around, Bran. Lightning Bolt Zolt wants you on board."

"No," he said flatly. He was an Earth-bender and a son of immigrants from the Earth Kingdom. That meant the Creeping Crystal and Jargala had a vested interest in him. That scary hot mobster was content to leave him alone so long as he didn't make any moves in another gang's direction, but she'd take it as a personal affront if he signed up with the Triple Threats.

Spirits! He didn't care about any of this shit! He was a middling Earth-bender for fucks sake, not a soldier. He'd worked hard for the meager salary he made at the factory, supplemented it with whatever odd jobs he could do for the various Triads, but that was his limit. He wanted to enjoy his life and live it on his terms. He didn't want to have to choose.

"Just say 'yes,'" Osiya insisted. "You'll get paid better and you'll get some real respect. Plus, they’re not asking you to kill anybody. You'll be doing some legwork and heavy lifting, that's all. It's not like you're gonna be fighting a whole squad of firebenders or anything… fine, you twisted my leg. There may be some minor roughing up of some politicians, but those guys ain’t even human!"

He didn’t even know why she kept asking. This was the fifth time this week she’d asked, and the fifth time this week he’d said, “No. For fuck’s sake Osiya, how many times I gotta say that I. Don’t. Do. Crime!”

“That’s good. Keep it that way.”

In an instant, Osiya had darted away at the speed of sound while Bran whipped his head around to see who had just spoken to him. The figure was already walking away from him, clanking away in her armour while strutting towards the building he’d just been in. Her grey hair was iconic to the underbelly at this point, and Bran’s heart was in his throat when he saw her two whips sliding out of her wrist gauntlets.

He wasn’t really worried about his safety, but it was when he saw where the Police Chief’s angry eyes were fixated on made the pit grow exponentially. The shadows were converging, dark blobs on rooftops lowering down like massive spiders, all surrounding the one building Bran had just been enjoying himself in.
“MADAME KAVITA! YOU AND YOUR WHORES ARE UNDER ARREST FOR PROSTITUTION IN MY CITY! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP IMMEDIATELY!”

The dead street was quickly resurrected with panic. Lights were turned on, people yelling, the police chief and her little gnats all began bursting into the tiny whorehouse of dreams that Bran loved. He was paralyzed, watching his own home away from home be torn down for no reason.

It all came crumbling down around him.