Rhiallis: Purely Physical

      Today’s snippet, titled “Purely Physical”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      She had not looked at a man in months.
      Naturally, she had seen men, but she had not looked at a man with hunger in her eyes or heat between her thighs since… She sighed, It has been ages.
      Yet, she was looking now. Over the gold-banded rim of one of Horgus’ fine crystal snifters, Rhiallis was indeed looking. He was a handsome man, with eyes like the forest in sunshine – a deep and verdant color she envied – and long, deep brown hair that smelled like pine and smoke and sweat and maleness. She closed her eyes for a moment, pulling up a memory from the past few days. Those biceps, glistening with sweat and rippling as they carried Anevia’s stretcher. The muscles in his back shifting beneath his clothing.
      Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she inhaled and opened her eyes.
      Across the room, sprawled in a pose of exaggerated casualness in one of Horgus’ madly expensive wingback chairs, Idril sipped brandy. Horgus was talking to him, but she heard nothing of his inane ramblings. As their eyes met, she gave the elf a little half-smile, tilting her head. His sneer softened a bit and his eyes shifted to his lap, then back to her.
      Rhiallis could hardly suppress a grin. She slid from her own seat and onto his lap, eliciting a leer from Horgus and a little gasp of shock from Mira and Emma across the room. A long, calloused finger drew a symbol upon her thigh, just above the knee and she took a look sip of brandy, holding his gaze.
      A whole conversation in silence, their eyes sparked off one another in tacit understanding. The verbal flirtation was hardly needed – they both knew what was going to happen. Everything else was a social nicety. She finished her snifter with relish, watching with raised brows as he quaffed his as well.
      Lightly clasping his fingers, she stood and led the way, leaving their mutual friends in their astonished wake. Her heart was pounding and she was sure he must be able to hear it, what with those long, keen elven ears. Still, there came no judgement from him – he did not care that she was trembling as much with nervousness as with pent-up desire.
      They had hardly stepped into the chamber she had chosen as her own when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her into the door. Breathless, Rhiallis returned his hungry kisses and lost herself in a myriad of pleasures. She forgot about the atrocities, about the destruction, about all the lost lives and the sacrifice of Terendelluve. She forgot about everything but Idril’s strong, lithe body moving in time with her own, the powerful muscles bunching for each thrust and the joy she found in pleasing him.
      Later, much later, drowsy with the last ebbing tingles of incredible orgasms and exhausted by the much needed, surprisingly athletic, sexual release they had shared, Rhiallis rolled to her side. Through the window, she could see only the queer, dark skies. There were no other lights, nothing on the skyline and she could make out neither moon nor stars.
      Disturbed by this, she had trouble sleeping, though it was quite pleasant to share her bed with a warm, tender body. In time, Idril’s rhythmic breathing calmed her. At last, with one hand upon his chest, she slept.

* * *

      He was dressing when she woke. Tousled haired, still naked beneath the luxurious silk sheets of Horgus’ manor home, Rhiallis, watched him silently.
      “Oh, you’re awake,” he said, when he turned to retrieve his belt and saw her golden eyes upon him.
      She nodded, her head propped up on her hand. For a moment, she considered asking him back to bed. Then the impropriety of it all struck her and she decided against it. If their friends were scandalized by a little mutual tension release, well, they would just have to get used to it. As the warm, clean light of dawn filtered into the room, Rhiallis smiled. For the first time in days – perhaps much longer, if she were honest with herself – she was relaxed, at ease.
      And satisfied, very.
      She climbed from the bed, feeling his eyes upon her bare flesh as she moved toward the ewer to wash her face. Splashing the cool water upon her cheeks, she paused and glanced over her shoulder at him.
      “Thanks,” was all she said.
      “You too,” he replied, with a funny little half-bow that might have seemed mocking had she not become accustomed to his natural sneer. Idril slipped out of the room without another word and Rhiallis was pleased that he understood the nature of their relationship – friends who engaged in a bit of recreational sex to take the edge off.
      Whether or not there would be a repeat performance in the future, she did not know. One day he may need her body the way she had needed his last night, but perhaps not. It was not as if they knew each other very well. Still, sometimes a friendly fuck is the best and most welcome restorative there is.
      Dressing slowly, Rhiallis found herself humming an old ballad. Yes, she thought, it may have been improper to the minds of my friends… but by Iomedae’s Glory, that man is beautiful and the Gods all know, sometimes a girl just needs a good lay.
– – – – – – – – – – –
Signed, Josie
Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me

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