The flickering lantern casts jagged shadows across the damp stone walls of the dungeon chamber, the air thick with the scent of moss and the sharp tang of Marcille's arousal as Falin pins her against the rough-hewn surface, her lips crashing into the elf's with a bruising intensity that draws a muffled mmph from Marcille's throat. Falin's calloused hands, rough from years of battle, grip Marcille's slender wrists, hoisting them above her head, the elf's delicate frame trembling as Falin's tongue delves deep, tasting the faint sweetness of mana lingering in her mouth.
Schlick.
Marcille's staff clatters to the floor, the wood echoing sharply as Falin's thigh wedges between her legs, pressing hard against the soaked fabric of her tights, the wet heat radiating through the thin material. Marcille's hips jerk, chasing the pressure, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson, her pointed ears twitching with every ragged breath. Falin pulls back, her amber eyes glinting with something feral as she watches Marcille's green gaze glaze over, lips parted, glistening with spit. "You're shaking already," Falin murmurs, voice low and husky, her free hand slipping under Marcille's blouse, fingers grazing the soft curve of her waist before cupping a small breast, thumb dragging over a nipple stiff beneath the fabric.
Ahn!
Marcille's back arches off the wall, a needy whine escaping her, so unlike her usual composed self that Falin's grin sharpens, predatory. She yanks the blouse up, exposing pale skin to the chill air, her mouth latching onto Marcille's nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make the elf's legs buckle.
Lick.
Marcille's fingers tangle in Falin's blonde hair, pulling her closer, her hips grinding harder against Falin's thigh, the friction sending sparks through her core. Falin's hand slides lower, ripping the seam of Marcille's tights with a sharp rrrip, her fingers finding the dripping, swollen heat of Marcille's cunt, slick and pulsing with desperate need.
Squelch.
Two fingers slip inside, curling against that sensitive spot that makes Marcille's voice break into a high-pitched moan, "F-Falin—!" Falin doesn't slow, her lips trailing biting kisses along Marcille's neck, leaving faint red marks as her fingers pump faster, the wet schlick-schlick drowning out the distant drip of water from the ceiling. Marcille's thighs clamp around Falin's hand, her body trembling as Falin's thumb finds her clit, circling with ruthless precision. "So loud," Falin teases, her breath hot against Marcille's ear, "what if Laios hears you?" The thought makes Marcille's cunt clench tighter, her arousal gushing over Falin's fingers, coating her palm as a third finger stretches her further, the burn making her sob with pleasure.
Plap.
The sound of Falin's hand slamming against Marcille's soaked folds echoes, her pace unrelenting, each thrust pushing Marcille closer to the edge. Marcille's nails dig into Falin's shoulders, her breaths frantic, her body bowing as the coil in her gut tightens. "I—I can't—!" she chokes, but Falin's lips seal over hers, swallowing the cry as Marcille shatters, her cunt spasming wildly around Falin's fingers, hot liquid spilling down her thighs in a shameful flood.
Splotch.
The wet drip hits the stone floor, Marcille's legs giving out, only Falin's strong grip keeping her upright as she trembles through the aftershocks. Falin's eyes gleam with untamed hunger as she drops to her knees, yanking Marcille's tights down further, baring her completely.
Lick.
Her tongue drags slowly over Marcille's oversensitive clit, and the elf's scream bounces off the walls, her hands fisting in Falin's hair as her hips buck.
Slurp.
Falin's mouth is relentless, lapping up every drop of Marcille's release, her tongue plunging inside to chase the taste, groaning at the slick heat coating her lips. Marcille's vision blurs, tears prickling as the overstimulation becomes unbearable, yet her hips grind against Falin's face, chasing another peak. "Falin—p-please, it's too—!" she gasps, but Falin hums, the vibration sending a jolt through her core.
Schlick.
Marcille's second orgasm crashes through her, her scream muffled against her own arm as her cunt pulses, soaking Falin's chin, dripping onto the floor.
Splotch.
Falin rises, lips glistening, and kisses Marcille deeply, letting her taste herself, the salty-sweet mix making the elf whimper. Falin lifts Marcille's legs, wrapping them around her waist, her own arousal evident in the hard press of her hips against Marcille's dripping cunt.
Grind.
The rough fabric of Falin's trousers rubs against Marcille's oversensitive folds, drawing a half-protesting whine. Falin's hands grip Marcille's ass, squeezing hard as she grinds again, the friction sending sparks through them both. "You're mine," Falin growls, voice raw with possessiveness, and Marcille nods, too wrecked to speak. Falin spins her around, pressing her chest against the cold stone wall, Marcille's bare nipples scraping against the rough surface.
Smack.
A sharp slap lands on Marcille's ass, the sting blooming into heat as she moans, her cunt throbbing. Falin's fingers slide through the mess between Marcille's thighs, teasing her entrance before plunging inside, three fingers now, stretching her to a delicious burn.
Schlick.
The wet sounds are deafening, Marcille's moans louder with every thrust, her body shaking as Falin's other hand reaches around to pinch her clit, rolling it between rough fingers. "Say it," Falin demands, her voice a low snarl. "I'm yours!" Marcille cries, the admission torn from her as her third orgasm hits, her walls clamping so hard Falin groans, feeling the pulse against her fingers.
Splotch.
More slick drips to the floor, pooling beneath them as Marcille slumps, utterly spent. Falin slows but doesn't stop, her fingers lazily pumping as she kisses Marcille's neck, whispering, "Good girl." The praise sends another shudder through Marcille, her body still craving despite the sensitivity. Falin pulls her fingers out, the pop echoing as she turns Marcille to face her, lifting her chin. "Not done," Falin murmurs, pressing her slick-coated fingers against Marcille's lips.
Lick.
Marcille sucks them clean, tasting herself, her eyes locked on Falin's as her tongue swirls, the act so filthy it makes her cunt throb again. Falin frees herself from her trousers, revealing her own dripping arousal.
Drip.
The sight makes Marcille's breath hitch, her body aching for more. Falin presses their cunts together, slick and hot, the schlick-schlick of their grinding filling the chamber. Marcille's moans are incoherent, her body moving on instinct, chasing the friction as Falin's hands guide her hips in a brutal rhythm. "F-Falin—I can't—!" she sobs, but her hips don't stop, her clit rubbing against Falin's, the pleasure almost painful.
Plap.
Their bodies collide, slick and desperate, until Marcille's fourth orgasm tears through her, her scream muffled against Falin's shoulder as she clings, trembling. Falin follows, her own release hitting with a low growl, her cunt pulsing against Marcille's, their combined slick dripping down their thighs.
Splotch.
They collapse against the wall, panting, Marcille limp in Falin's arms, the dungeon silent except for their ragged breaths. Falin kisses her softly, a stark contrast to the ferocity, whispering, "You're perfect." Marcille whimpers, too wrecked to respond, as Falin holds her close, their bodies still pressed together, slick and warm.