The Night Watch

Kyle waited, watching Selere make out with Alistair for some time.

The fire crackled between them, casting long shadows that danced across the clearing like hungry specters. Selere's hands were tangled in Alistair's red hair, her body pressed against his with an intensity that made Kyle's cock twitch in his breeches. Alistair's eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed, his hands gripping her waist like she might disappear if he let go.

It was... something, watching them. The way her tongue traced the line of his jaw, the way he swallowed hard when she nipped at his lower lip, the way they fit together… *They're really into each other,* he thought. *And she wants to spend the night with me.*

The thought should have made him feel guilty. Maybe it did, a little. But mostly it made him feel giddy. "So," Kyle said, pushing himself up from the log and limping over to where they sat. His leg throbbed in protest, but he ignored it. "You want to spend the night with me?"

Alistair held his girlfriend tighter, his arms wrapping around her like a shield. But Selere pinched her boyfriend’s cheek—and extracted herself from his grip. She rose to her feet, smooth and unhurried, and turned to face Kyle.

"I already said I did," she replied, one eyebrow arching. "Are you going to make me repeat myself?"

Kyle grinned. "Maybe. I like hearing you say it."

Selere's smirk sharpened. She stepped closer, and reached out, one finger tracing a line down the center of his chest, hooking briefly on a loop of his tunic before continuing down to his belt.

"Then perhaps," she murmured, her voice dropping to a low purr that vibrated through his sternum, "you should take me somewhere more private. Before my boyfriend's ears start smoking from how hard he's blushing."

Behind her, Alistair made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh or a sob. His face was indeed the color of his hair now, his ears practically glowing red in the firelight.

Kyle took her hand.

---

They didn't go far—just to the other side of the clearing, where the trees grew closer together and the shadows were deeper.

Selere spread her bedroll on a patch of that moss, smoothing it out with practiced efficiency. The firelight reached them only in fragments—flickering gold fragments that caught in her hair and made her gray skin glow like moonstone.

Kyle could still see Alistair, sitting by the flames, his back against a tree trunk, his knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes were fixed on them—fixed on Selere—with an intensity that Kyle could feel even from here.

Selere didn't seem to care. She was already working at the ties of her tunic, her fingers quick and sure, her eyes never leaving Kyle's face.

"Help me," she said.

Kyle stepped closer. His hands replaced hers at the laces, and he felt the heat of her body radiating through the thin leather cord. The ties were warm—warmer than he expected—and his fingers fumbled slightly as he pulled them loose.

The tunic parted, revealing the pale gray skin beneath.

Even though he'd seen these globes already, they still amazed him. Selere's breasts were smaller than Amara's, yet larger than Aria's—perfect handfuls that fit against his palms like they'd been made for him. But it was the texture that got him hooked, the way her flesh seemed firmer than human skin, more resilient. Her nipples were a deeper shade of gray, almost purple in the dim light, standing out against the ashen background like dark stars.

"You're drooling," Selere observed.

"Obviously," Kyle replied, tugging the tunic down over her shoulders.

The fabric caught briefly on her arms, and she had to shrug to free herself, her breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

He reached for her breeches next, his knuckles brushing against the soft skin of her stomach as he worked the fastenings. She was warm there, warmer than he expected—almost hot—and she didn't flinch or pull away when his fingers slipped lower than strictly necessary, tracing the line of her hip bone, the curve of her pelvis.

The breeches came off more easily than the tunic, sliding down her long legs and pooling around her boots. Selere kicked them aside impatiently, then reached for Kyle's clothes with the same focused determination.

"Now you," she said.

He let her undress him.

There was something intensely arousing about it—the way her fingers traced each new inch of skin as it was revealed, the way she paused to run her palm over his chest, his stomach, his hip.

When she got to his breeches, she knelt to pull them down, and the sight of her on her knees in front of him—her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her violet eyes looking up at him through her lashes—made his cock twitch with interest.

Selere paused, her hands on his hips, and tilted her head.

"You have terrible physique," she said, completely deadpan. "For an elf, I mean. No agility at all. Look at these muscles—all bulk, no grace. It's almost embarrassing."

Kyle blinked. "Uh. Thanks?"

"I'm not complaining," she added, her gaze dropping to his hardening cock. For a moment Kyle thought she is about to take him in her mouth.

"I'm not complaining," she added, her gaze dropping to his hardening cock. Then she let her lips part just slightly—just enough to show the wet gleam of her tongue against her teeth, as if tasting the idea of him. For a moment Kyle thought she was about to take him in her mouth.

Instead, she rose to her feet, pressing them chest to chest, her breasts flush against his bare skin, her breath hot on his throat. Kyle's hands found her waist, then slid lower, cupping the curve of her ass and pulling her against him.

She was warm everywhere. Soft between her legs, firm on her chest, and she fit against him in a way that made his breath catch.

Selere wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

It was different from the kisses in the cave. Definitely slower, and somehow deeper. Her tongue traced his lower lip, tasting of smoke and dried fruit, then slipped into his mouth, exploring him like she had all the time in the world. Kyle groaned against her lips, his hands tightening on her ass, pulling her closer still.

They kissed like that for what felt like forever—standing naked in the shadows, the firelight flickering across their skin, the forest silent around them. Kyle tried to guide her toward the bedroll, tried to lower her to the ground, but Selere resisted. She stayed standing, her legs braced, her body pressed against his, her lips never leaving his mouth.

*She wants Alistair to see,* Kyle realized. *She's putting on a show.*

The thought should have bothered him. Instead, it made him grin against her lips.

*Fine. If she wants to give him a show, I'll give him something to listen to as well.*

Kyle's hands moved—one sliding up her back to tangle in her hair, the other slipping between her legs. She was already wet, her folds slick with arousal, and when his fingers found her clit she gasped into his mouth, her hips jerking forward.

He worked her slowly at first, circling that sensitive nub with the pad of his thumb while his other hand—still tangled in her hair—held her in place. Her moans vibrated against his lips, soft and breathy, and he swallowed each one like a prize.

Then he added his other hand to her breast, squeezing the firm gray flesh, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Selere broke the kiss, her head falling back, her mouth open in a silent cry.

"That's—" she gasped. "Fuck, Kyle—"

He squeezed harder, pinching her nipple just this side of painful, and her moan echoed through the clearing.

*Good,* Kyle thought. *Let him hear.*

He alternated between her breast and her pussy, squeezing and pinching and stroking, driving her higher with each touch. Selere's hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Kyle—" she said again, and this time her voice was ****, pleading. "Kyle, please—"

After a couple of minutes, she finally stopped hugging him and looked into his eyes. Her gaze was unfocused, her pupils blown wide, her lips swollen from their kisses.

"Please lie down," she murmured against his lips.

Kyle didn't argue.

---

The bedroll was soft beneath his back, the moss cushioning the hard ground. Selere followed him down, her body covering his, her breasts pressing against his chest, her hair falling around them like a dark curtain. She kissed him again, deeper this time, and he felt her hand between them, wrapping around his cock, guiding him.

"Ready?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer.

She lowered herself onto him in one slow, smooth motion, her inner walls parting around his length with a wet heat that made Kyle's eyes roll back. She was tighter than he remembered—or maybe he'd forgotten just how tight she was in the hours since the cave.

Selere gasped, her head falling back, her hair brushing against his thighs. "Gods," she breathed. "You're so—fuck—"

Kyle's hands gripped her hips, helping her find a rhythm. She rode him slowly at first, savoring each inch, each stroke, her inner muscles clenching and releasing in waves that made his vision blur. The firelight flickered across her skin, catching the sweat that was already beginning to form on her chest, her neck, her stomach.

"That's it," Kyle groaned. "Just like that."

She sped up, her hips rolling in tight circles that drove him deeper with each rotation. Her breathing grew ragged, her moans escaping in soft, gasping bursts that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet forest. Kyle glanced over at Alistair, still by the fire, still watching, his hand now pressed firmly against the front of his breeches.

Kyle smirked.

"Gods," Kyle said, loud enough for Alistair to hear. "You are so tight!"

Selere laughed breathlessly, her nails digging into his chest. "And you are so bi-ig," she moaned, turning her head toward her boyfriend. Her eyes met Alistair's across the clearing.

It made something twist in his chest. Something that might have been jealousy.

*She's still thinking about him,* Kyle realized. *Even with my cock inside her, she's still thinking about him.*

The realization should have killed his mood. Instead, it made him want to fuck her so thoroughly that she forgot her own name—forgot Alistair's name—forgot everything except the feeling of Kyle's cock stretching her open.

He grabbed her hips and flipped them over.

Selere gasped as he settled on top of her, his weight pressing her into the bedroll, his cock still buried deep inside her. Her eyes went wide, her lips parting in surprise—and then in pleasure, as he began to move.

*"Wow,* Kyle, that's intense," she praised, her voice breathy, almost reverent.

This time, he was in control.

He fucked her with deep, deliberate strokes, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, each thrust driving a soft cry from her lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her hands fisting in his hair, her nails scratching at his scalp.

"Harder," she demanded. "Please—harder—"

Kyle obliged.

He lost himself in the rhythm—the slide of his cock through her slick folds, the heat of her body surrounding him, the sounds she made with each thrust. He didn't care about Alistair anymore. Didn't care about the fire or the forest or the goblins in the cave behind them.

"Inside," Selere gasped. "Cum inside me. Fucking fill me up—"

He did. He buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied into her, hot and thick, filling her with rope after rope of his seed. Selere cried out beneath him, her body arching, her nails raking down his back, her inner walls milking him for everything he had.

When it was over, Kyle collapsed onto her chest, his face pressed between her breasts, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Her heart pounded beneath his cheek, fast and strong, and her fingers threaded through his hair, gentle now, almost tender.

They lay like that for a long minute, tangled together, cooling in the night air. Then Kyle lifted his head.

"Selere," he said, his voice rough. "Go to your boyfriend."

She blinked at him, still dazed. "What?"

"Alistair." Kyle nodded toward the fire, where the red-haired elf was still watching, his hand frozen mid-stroke, his eyes wide. "Go let him lick your pussy clean."

Selere made an exasperated gasp. "You are such a bad man." She reached between her legs, gathering some of the cum and her juices on her fingers, then brought her hand to her lips and licked them clean, her eyes never leaving Kyle's face.

Her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. "You want me to make my boyfriend lick up my freshly used cunt."

"Oh stop it." Kyle pushed himself up, pulling out of her with a wet sound that made them both shudder. Cum trickled down her thighs, glistening in the firelight. "I bet you were about to jump his face anyway."

Selere laughed—a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Kyle's spine. She sat up, stretching languidly, then reached down to touch herself again, gathering more of the cum that was leaking from her pussy.

"You are right," she said.

She rose on unsteady legs, and Kyle caught her hands before she could leave.

"After he's done," Kyle said, "come back here and suck my cock till I cum in your mouth."

Selere's smirk widened. She pulled her hands free and walked toward the fire, naked and glistening, her hips swaying with each step, cum still trickling down her inner thighs. Kyle watched her go, his softening cock still wet, his chest still heaving.

Then he lay back on the bedroll, pulled his arm behind his head, and stared up at the canopy of stars visible through the trees.

---

For a while, he could hear only the sounds of the forest—the rustle of leaves, for some reason al sounds from the campfire were severely muffled.. The night air was cool on his sweat-slick skin, and his leg throbbed in quiet complaint, but for the first time since entering Shadowmouth Caverns, Kyle felt... relaxed.

This is nice, he thought. This is really fucking nice. Then the sounds changed.

"—please," Alistair's voice drifted across the clearing, **** and raw. "Please, Selere, please let me—"

"Shhh." Selere's voice was soft, almost motherly. "You want a taste, don't you? Taste what Kyle gave me?"

"Yes—Gods, yes—"

"Then lick."

"That's it," she murmured, her voice carrying through the clearing now—the elven trick apparently forgotten, or abandoned. "Lick like a good little boy. Clean up every drop."

"Good boy," she breathed. "Such a good boy."

She let him work for another minute—maybe two—her fingers tightening in his hair whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot, her hips rolling against his face in small, **** circles. Then she seemed to lose patience.

"Enough," she said. Before Alistair could protest, she got him on his back and sat on his face. The movement was quick, Alistair's muffled cry of surprise was swallowed by her thighs, and then there was only the wet, rhythmic sound of his tongue working between her legs.

Kyle watched for a moment longer, then turned back onto his back and closed his eyes. This is nice, he thought again, and the thought echoed in his skull like a prayer.

The muffled moans and licks of Alistair and the occasional moan from Selere only drifted him deeper to sleep. Kyle dreamed of nothing at all.