The moment she looked upwards - or rather, backwards - and saw Zef staring back at her, Zel took another deep breath and without another moment’s wait plunged her tongue all the way, sending through it as much Fulgur as she thought her lover could conceivably handle. Though it wasn’t much, it was still enough to make even Zel’s tongue convulse and writhe uncontrollable inside Zefaris, enough to demand more than just one lungful of Fog to keep going while Zelsys continued reaming her own nerves.
Zef’s legs clamped down on her head much the same as her insides clamped down on her tongue, the blonde’s labored breathing turning to frantic, moaned utterances: “I love you… I love you… Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouuunnnghaaaahhh-”
In that same moment, Zel too felt herself being inexorably pushed over the edge, her own body wresting control for long enough to make her clamp her legs together and let out a few muffled, utterly uncharacteristic mewling moans.
When it was over and the both of them regained at least part of their senses, Zefaris shakily slid back down onto Zel’s lap, planting a kiss on her lips with a mischievous smirk.
“You know, I heard you the first time. I love you too,” Zel said.
“Shut up. My turn,” Zef replied as her face flushed from pink to outright red, shushing Zel with a finger before she took a deep breath through her nose and dove under the water. Zelsys didn’t understand what the blonde was doing, only that it was utterly out of her control and that she’d not felt anything quite like this before.
With one hand on her stomach, her mouth, and the fingers of her other hand, Zef took her to places that she couldn’t have conceived of, such that she feared she would crush her lover’s head. At points it felt like time itself had stopped, like all of existence was nothing but this all-consuming ecstasy.
She soon lost track of everything besides the current moment, willingly surrendering all control for once and only really coming to her senses when they were both too exhausted to continue and her muscles pulsed with ache beyond what any intentional training could inflict.
And everything was at peace…
...Until the glyph above the door came alive and chimed to let them know their time would be up in fifteen minutes.
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They continued to visit the sect grounds for training over the course of the next several days, Sigmund and Makhus also spending several hours at the pavilion whenever they did visit, even if not each day. Whether or not either of the men was present, Zelsys made no qualms about stripping down to combat the heat or acting in the same showoffy way she usually did, much to the swordsman’s botheration.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
With nearly unerring consistency, the inexorable tension Zel and Zef built up over the course of the day left them enacting the most fundamental of primal urges before they departed for the bathhouse. Sometimes just behind a target block, other times amidst the trees or even in one of the irrigation fountains, but again and again, they returned to one of the greenhouses. Again and again with the words of caution, of not risking being caught, words that were all but disregarded when the pair inevitably turned once more to that damned bathhouse and rented out the private section that they might continue in ways that would be too obvious for the sect property courtyard, perception barrier or no.
While training on the second day, Zel felt a shift in her lower stomach, chalking it up to something to do with digestion.
On the third day, as they laid amidst those strange flowers, Zef ran her hand over Zel’s stomach, stopping at that spot between her lowest pair of abs. She pressed on it, but it was more like she was trying to probe for something than tease her. She brought up that there was something there that felt different, but that she couldn’t figure out what.
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The fourth day came. Zelsys felt herself being dragged out of deep sleep, already knowing by the relatively cold air and absence of light that it was, at the very least, extremely early in the morning. Yet, she felt the need to get up. Something was off. Different.
An inexorable pressure in her loins, one which was released the moment the bleary-eyed slayer stood turned and stood up from bed in a single motion. There, in the cold night air, her nude form illuminated only by moonlight, she realized what that change was. It was a little thicker than two fingers side to side, bulging further in the middle and narrowing down towards not a rounded head but a beastly, tapered, diagonally beveled tip that only tangentially resembled that of a human member. Its surface was the reddish colour of bare flesh, silver conduits pulsing alongside bulging veins.. It just… Hung there between her legs.
Being still half-submerged in the waters of sleep, Zelsys cautiously grabbed it to see if it was even real in the first place or if she was hallucinating in some waking-dream delirium. Certainly, it was, the pounding of her heartbeat reverberating through it and easily felt in her hand. The moment she wrapped her fingers around it was the one she realized just how sensitive it was, as it engorged considerably at that slight stimulation and three bulbs of flesh around its base inflated with blood, forming a nearly contiguous shape. It felt so full of blood as to burst at any moment, and from base to tip was long enough to wrap both her hands around it.
Pressure, heat, the sensitivity akin to that which had hitherto been reserved to that tiny nub of flesh at the apex of her pubic mound. And that nub - it was gone. In fact, this pulsing, stonking great cock was attached to her by a finger-thin trunk of meat right at that point, just above the rest of her womanhood.
She let go of the thing, and deciding to just deal with it in the morning, Zel drew in a shallow breath of Fog. In burning it she pulled taut the reins of control over her own body, forcing the blood to recede from the engorged member and it to recede whence it came. Bizarre was the only word appropriate to describe both the feeling and the sight, as it deflated to barely a third of its size and retreated inward, leaving only the very tip poking out where her clitoris had once been.