@visualspice ———
In the vibrant streets of Reahj, the air was filled with the harmonious hum of a seemingly perfect day. A young couple strolled hand in hand, marveling at the charm of the city, convinced that nothing could possibly ruin their blissful moment.
"I don't think anything can put a damper on our day," the man beamed, his eyes full of confidence.
But soon something would put a damper on their day.
Just as they exchanged endearing words, the lively atmosphere took an unexpected twist. Enter Amaya Midgar, the notorious bounty hunter with a devil-may-care attitude. Dressed in a mix of worn leather and a cocky grin, Amaya sprinted through the crowd, chasing his elusive target.
"Shit! Move!" In the blink of an eye, the unsuspecting couple found themselves in the midst of Amaya's pursuit. With a swift maneuver to avoid a collision, they stumbled, and their coffee cups went airborne, splattering hot liquid all over them.
"Sorry, ma'am!" Amaya glanced over his shoulder at the couple now drenched with hot coffee, offering the woman a sly smile as he continued to plow through more people on the bustling streets. The man, unfortunately, received no such acknowledgment.
His target was Nicholas Bernard, a petty thief who got too big for his britches on the mainland. Still, he was pretty damn fast.
"You can't outrun me forever Nicholas!" Amaya called out to him with a sense of playful antagonism.
"Fuck off!" the thief yelled colorfully.
——
The chase persisted for more time than Anaya would like to admit. There had been a time where Nicholas actually gave him the slip, but after stalking the streets of the city for an hour or so he put eyes on him once again.
He wouldn't let him get away so easily this time. Amaya quickened his pace, playfully taunting his prey from behind as he weaved through the bustling crowd, determined to catch up and—
"Shit! Not again!"The couple Amaya ran into earlier were back in his way, once again with coffee that they must have surely replenished after the last incident.
Amaya's intuition proved correct when he briefly noticed the rising steam visible from their cups. Despite his efforts to maneuver around them, a collision ensued, resulting in the man wearing his coffee again while the woman managed to avoid a repeat dousing.
"Sorry ma'am!" Amaya called again.
——
Amaya deftly pursued Nicholas through the crowded streets, dodging market stalls and sidestepping unsuspecting pedestrians. The chase led them to the outskirts of the city, where a lively river stream danced its way along the edge.
Cornered, Nicholas turned to face Amaya, an air of desperation clinging to him. "Give it up, would ya?," Amaya grinned, feigning sympathy.
Nicholas, fueled by bravado, swung a wild punch. Amaya, ever the agile fighter, bobbed and weaved with a smirk. "That was cute! Next time, try to actually land a hit on me, my friend!"
A rowdy crowd gathered, enjoying the unexpected street theater. Nicholas swing many times and missed many times, Amaya mostly reserved himself but landed one good crack at his jaw. Unfortunately, that punch caused Nicholas to fumble backward, grabbing Amaya by the collar. They both lost balance and tumbled into the river with a splash.
Now floating downstream, their waterlogged fight continued. "Now look what you did!" Amaya yelled.
Nicholas, sputtering water, replied, "Me?! You're the one who started it!"
As they drifted along, fists still flying, the chaos unfolded to the amusement of onlookers along the riverbank.
——
Another hour passed before Amaya sauntered into the authorities' office, dragging a thoroughly drenched and unconscious Nicholas. He nonchalantly dumped his bounty onto the ground with a resonant thud.
The man behind the counter regarded Amaya with a skeptical gaze. "What happened, exactly?"
Amaya, resembling a waterlogged mutt, shook out his hair and offered a sly grin. "Went for a swim," he said. "Got any coffee?"
North, south, east or west. It didn't matter so long as the money was good and there was a place she could top off her night with plenty of booze. Long had the days come, and longer were the nights, and her trials had been as rocky as the roads she traveled. Connlaoth wasn't exactly the safest of places. Even as she traveled, echoes of war- and even the glow of terrorizing fires, could be seen from the mountain tops. She wouldn't miss leaving all this behind if she got the choice.
Days turned to weeks, and weeks into possible months. But she was likely close to the damn capital by now. This place was far enough from the border...
Plus the fact her last run-in with a bounty hunter nearly left her headless. She rubbed at her neck, where the wound was still healing and gave a snort. This was probably far enough away. Probably.
"Fuckin' piss-offs, the lot of 'em," she grumbled, and downed near half a bottle of moonshine; the last she had on her on this damnably long road. She belched and gave her belly a pat, before retouching the wound on her neck, then securely hiding it behind a thick scarf she had bound round her neck.
Her money kept her moving, just barely (and mostly it was thieving, all of whihc helped move her west). Connlaoth was a fairly large nation, rolling hills, long plains, plenty of rivers...
And plenty of pockets to pick.
But pick pocketing could only get her to travel so far. And she knew she needed a new pair of boots. All of this walking had worn several holes. Reluctantly,s he had to give up a night of drinking in order to procure herself a nice, fancy pair. And did she ever swoon over them. They were a deep, rich, dark brown color, nearly black except in the right light which shown it's deep mahogany glow. And were they ever comfortable! Hell, they slipped right onto her feet, had enough room and support and laced on up clear to her thighs. It would definitely help fight the scabs she constantly was getting on her knees, and well- she couldn't help but squeal a little at the fact she knew they gave her a lot of extra sex appeal. She was still a woman after all- and though rather rough around the edges, she did like to make herself look good.
She looked up at the shop keep with a grin from ear to ear.
"Thanks, love. The boots are more beautiful than my breasts!"
She stood for a moment in front of a mirror, fussing over her clothing and tightening a lace here or there and giving a half attempted combed fluffing of her hair. She frowned. She could use a nice hot bath. But she'd need money for that, first.
And booze. She was itching for a drink and had her last lick this morning. She turned to the shop keep and eyed the old man up.
"Where's the nearest Inn? Tavern? Bar- any place that sells some good old, cheap ale?"
She didn't always flirt, but when she did, she always did it in order to benefit from something. And men liked loose women, and though she liked a good time with all the rest of the men, she normally kept most of her flirting and kissy faces to the tavern and not the room she stayed. And this particular night she was without money for a room, nor booze; but that didn't stop her from making her way to a little squat and open faced pub called Moor's that the old Shoemaker recommended. She almost felt bad for robbing him of some of his money- almost.
She justified it by saying he was clearly trying to give business to a friend or something by promoting this place- never mind it was straight up pick pocketing.
But who'd send her to jail for a few silvers? She had wished she had snagged a bit more...but...
Moors was a strange sort of place from what she was used to, for there were no doors nor windows, just a really shallow over hang you had to duck under in order to get to the wide bar front that was lined with stools. It was here she noticed that the patrons weren't all entirely human- and she couldn't help but stare. Being born and raised and having remained mostly in Connlaoth, seeing elves and humanoid type creatures had her gawking. Even on the roads she traveled had tended to be mostly humans. Some of them here were even dwarves.
She gave a whistle, but then returned her attention back to the bar, where she noticed a slim figure fussing around behind a partially open door.
"Hey- yoo hoo, you the bar tender back there?"
The man poked his head up and noticed the red-head at his bar and pushed the door open with his shoulder. Wiping his hands off on his shoulder towel, he asked, "Aye, what can I get for you, lass?"
Ellarrah never once dropped her grin, or her eyes from his. He was cute- for an elf. She held up a few silvers.
"What sorta drinks can you sport for this?"
The tender took the money and examined it, looking the woman up and down a moment in thought. He had a bit of a limp in his step as he moved.
"Enough. Few rounds," he went on, procuring cup and drink. "New to the area?"
Her brows rose.
"That obvious?"
The elf laughed.
"Well by the way you're staring and the way you talk..." His voice trailed off as he watched her down her drink and then she sat it back on the table, wanting more. He shook his head and poured her another. "Guess I shouldn't move too fast. Traveled all day I reckon?"
"And all night," she griped, groaning a bit as she leaned against the bar. "You up for rentin' out a place or know of any cheap beds, love? Cause I'm fuckin' beat and just want to drink myself to sleep!"
The elf stared at her thoughtfully, and as she finished her second glass, poured a third.
"You'll need more silver for the fourth cup."
She stared at him, drink to her lips as she nodded slowly.
"Good to know, mate." It didn't stop her from finishing that one near as quick as the first few.
"So where you headed, miss?"
"Figured on following the River. Who knows. West, mostly. The Rivers flow West, eh? Or was that East.." she pondered a moment as she pouted, staring into her empty cup.
"Im actually heading to Reajh. City of dreams," shr belched sarcastically.
"Care to help a girl out?" she asked, batting her long lashes at the elf-
Though she was probably asking for help with more than just directions, and well..
She hadn't eyed up the perfect pocket to pick...
.. yet.
The barkeep shook his head.
"You're practically in the city now. But can't help ya with the free drinks. Sorry. It's hard enough running a business here not being human."
She looked at the crowd and realize d it made sense now.
Even still...
She had to find atleast a little bit o' coin here or else she'd be sleeping outside again. And she really really wanted a bath.
Amaya, armed with detailed intel on his next bounty target, Ellarah, embarked on the job with a loose approach. Equipped with knowledge of her physical description, criminal history, and a glimpse into her personality, he deduced the likelihood of finding her either pickpocketing on the streets or expertly conning someone at the bar while also slinging one back.
Hells, he had already had a few. May as well hit the bars. Moors specifically, as it was the closest.
"Man, this place kind of sucks," he mumbled as he entered, despite acknowledging its gritty charm. It had the unmistakable scent of spirits, schemes, shattered dreams, and ass. "My kind of place."
Scanning the room through the alcohol-induced haze, he quickly identified Ellarah standing out like a sore thumb at the bar, radiating the promised sex appeal and curves.
His carefree grin transformed into a sloppier expression, mimicking tipsy to blend in seamlessly. Sauntering over, he settled next to her, propped his cheek on his fist, and eyed her with a drunken affection. "Hey pretty lady," he slurred with a mix of charm. "I like your face."
Ellarrah turned to the man who approached her. Oh good, she grinned. This one was already drunk.
"And you know what I like? Feeding my face with booze. Think you can help a girl, out?"
Amaya flashed a sly and mischievous grin at the woman, embodying every bit of the allure promised when he accepted this job.
Sustaining the facade of a drunken fool posed a challenge, given that it usually took a substantial amount of ale and whiskey to faze Amaya. Nevertheless, he believed it to be the most straightforward starting point while also offering a chance for a bit of amusement.
"How ladylike," he remarked, his eyes scanning her from head to toe, lingering provocatively over her voluptuous breasts. Breaking the gaze, he retrieved a pouch of gold from his pocket, extracting enough to theatrically display what the woman desired, then slid it across the bar counter. "Two shots, my friend," he addressed the bartender, "and keep them coming."
Ellarrah grinned broadly. If the gold wasn't already enough to get her wet (it meant he had money!) He also gave her the promise of booze!
"Well now.." Ellarrah went on, appreciatively as she leaned forward, an elbow on the table- other hand accepting her drink and keeping her shoulders back and.. assets Pronounced.
"I feel I oughta toast the first drink to ya, love," She cooed. "To more booze, eh?" She went on, raising her cup.
"To booze, big breasts, and a woman who can kick my ass."
He clinked his glass against hers, downing its contents effortlessly. The warmth spread through his body as the liquid trickled down his throat. Motioning the bartender for another round, he leaned closer, flashing her an eager grin. "What's your name?" he asked, even though he already knew.
Ellarrah curled her toes inside her new boots.
"Well, ain't you a flirt?" She went on, happily knocking her mug against his. She knocked the drink back and slapped the empty cup onto the table with a satisfying sigh.
"And what's it to ya to ask a lady's name? Seem awfully generous for a folk who don't give up his name first," she went on, grinning broadly and wagging her empty cup.
Amaya leaned against the polished bar, the dim light casting shadows on his face as he signaled the bartender for another round. As the glasses were filled, he smiled at his bounty next to him – intriguing, yet with an abrasive air that left an indelible mark.
With three consecutive shots of hard whiskey barely leaving a buzz, Amaya was far from intoxicated. He downed another, the warmth coursing through him only fueling his composed demeanor, and it was getting harder to fake it. Turning to the woman, he offered a charismatic smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Amaya Midgar," he introduced himself, the words rolling off his tongue with a touch of playfulness. "Now it's your turn." His tone carried a hint of intrigue, though deep down, he found her personality abrasive.
Still, kept the drinks coming.
Her eyes danced satisfyingly once she acquired his name.
"Ellarrah Shok," she told him, giving a half saluting gesture before she knocked back her new drink. She kept her eyes trained on his but occassionaly was studying his form- not just to appreciate his make physique , but to gage where he might be keeping his weapons and other valuables on his person. He likely wouldn't miss just a few swiped coins once they were drunk.
"So what's a man like you doing in a bar like this?" She asked playfully, but in truth- the pair seemed to be the only humans within the establishment.
How much alcohol could this woman handle? A typical person would have been thoroughly intoxicated by now with the amount of hard liquor they'd consumed, yet she matched him sip for sip. He couldn't decide if he found it repelling or if he was developing a strange admiration.
Nevertheless, he ordered another round, this time opting for a whole bottle to simplify the process. "I could ask you the same question," he grinned, his legs swaying gently to touch hers as he leaned in, studying her with a mischievous curiosity. "I may look like I belong here, but you're far too beautiful for a rundown joint like this, don't you think?"
Her smile dimpled her alcohol blushed cheeks.
"Such a charmer, I'll take two of you, for the next round.. if that's what we can order," she flirted, swishing her cup as she let herself bask in the bubbly warmth od the alcohol. Ahh.. it hit her deliciously right.
"But why d'ya say you fit in more, eh? I just see a sore thumb, the pair of us. Considering neither are elf nor dwarf like most 'ere," she pointed out.
Amaya's responses drew an involuntary grin from Amaya, perhaps a result of the alcohol's subtle influence on his mood.
"Come on," he teased, the playful tone evident. "In a bar full of men, all either hoping for luck or drowning sorrows, you stand out. A catch." With a refill from the bottle, he chased the shot down, feeling the subtle effects of the alcohol.
The buzz started to settle in. Another swig tingled his cheeks in tipsy delight, fueling the conversation. "And you couldn't handle two of me," he winked, "but you sure can handle your booze."
Ellarrah rolled her eyes.
"Ain't my fault the women are sparse today," she assured, still grinning. "Besides, some of the elf folk are far prettier than me."
But at his comment about the booze, she grinned.
"Naturally. Can't live in Connlaoth without being well versed in many rounds of beer!"
But her grin turned sly about his other comment. "Oh? What makes you think you're too much to handle?"
Amaya's eyes lazily studied her, a sly smile playing on his lips, radiating both cunning and affection. "Something tells me you'll find out," he remarked, smoothly downing another shot.
"How about we ditch this joint?" he suggested, casually flashing his sack of gold one more time before settling the remaining payment with the bartender. "I know a place with a little more to offer."
Ellarrah quirked a brow at him but gave an easy grin as she shrugged.
"If you're payin', love, I'll follow you to the ends of a beer keg," she flirted. "But you sure you don't want to stick around and try some Dwarven ale? That stuff will put hair on the chest of a rock!"
"Don't worry, sweetie," he said coyly, "I have something even better."
Amaya flashed the girl a tantalizing and suggestive grin, a silent invitation hanging in the air. Rising from his seat at the dimly lit bar, he casually pocketed his gold, the glint of currency disappearing into the folds of his attire. With one last shot of whiskey downed in a smooth motion, he exhaled a satisfied breath before embarking on a journey through the smoke-filled and boozy room.
The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, and Amaya navigated the crowded space with a confident stride. He knew, with a certain expectation, that she would follow.
Her eyes followed the bag of gold. Of course he'd simply pocket that. She'd slip a few out from him later- as it seemed their fun was about to continue elsewhere. Grinning, she saluted the barkeep befire following after the man, conveniently picking a few pockets as she clumsily made her way in his wake.
Amaya sauntered out of the bar with the unmistakable confidence only a tipsy individual could exude. A sly smirk played on her lips as she observed the woman, the target of his bounty, closely tailing behind. Occasional glances over his shoulder revealed her adept skills at picking pockets, effortlessly relieving unsuspecting patrons and passersby of their loose change. To the casual observer, she was remarkably skilled, but to him, it was a talent he could spot in an instant.
They navigated the lively streets together, the city's nocturnal pulse beating around them. Eventually, he led them into a narrow alleyway, disappearing into a building. Ascending a flight of stairs, he entered a room that starkly contrasted with the lively atmosphere of the streets below. It appeared to be an abandoned set of offices, devoid of the revelry found in a bar or the comforts of a home. Instead, the room was filled with an eclectic array of trophies—booze and other party favors, souvenirs collected from his past bounty work. The space bore witness to the stories of his exploits, silent witnesses to a life lived on the edge.
Though, she did not need to know about that just yet.
"I stash the good stuff here," he mentioned, his hands delving into the cluttered table. Amid the disarray, two identical bottles caught his attention, both containing what seemed to be pure, concentrated hard liquor. One was a recent acquisition from a man he encountered a few days ago, while the other originated from Nicholas, the poor bastard Amaya had apprehended and turned in to the authorities.
The former exuded one of the strongest alcohol aromas he had ever encountered, while the latter, previously in Nicholas' possession, emitted a rather.. unique scent that defied easy identification.
Regardless of that mystery, answers awaited. Taking a swig from both bottles, he then handed them over to her.
By now, Ellarrah was basking in the warmth of an alcohol buzz. If she were smarter, or more tactful, she'd have been wary to follow this perfect stranger. But the idea she could have a bit of fun and snipe his coin was too much of a temptation. Besides, he did offer more booze.
Once inside, she couldn't help but poke around, surveying the goods he kept- and ones she might take home. He had an interesting collection, but before she could question any of that, he produced two bottles and her eyes lit up.
"Ye yanked me from the tavern, love. What's in the bottles best be worth it," she teased, giving rhe man a wink before plucking them from his hands. Just like him, she took a swig from each but instantly made a twisted face at the second.
"Ack! That one.. what's even inthat bottle!?" Shr quickly reached for the one she knew was alcohol to chase the after taste down.
"Gods.." she even took another swig. "That was foul."
"Iunno," Amaya responded truthfully before taking enough swig of the foul substance. "Strong as hells though."
He set the bizarre bottle of something aside before swiping the other from Ellarah's hand, tossing her a coy and cutesy smile in the process. As he downed more of it in a triumphant gulp, his face began to warm and tingle, and he almost felt as if he heard music.
"Dance with me," he said abruptly, seizing her hands in his. "Show me your moves, lady."
Sure, she felt a reaction within her as well, but her head was still lightly swimming on the alcohol.
"Dance? You brought me all the way out here to dance to no music and a few feet from y' bed?"
For some reason it made her laugh, a giddiness she couldn't even contain as it bubbled up from within.
"Why don't you show me your moves first, milord?" She asked, giving a rather terrible bow (as a woman she ought to have courtesied anyway. ) before grinning ear to ear and giving a little expectant waggle of her fingers.
Amaya grinned mischievously as he guided her into an impromptu dance. "You don't hear the music?" he asked with a playful twinkle in his eyes, as if they were sharing a secret melody that only they could perceive. Taking her hand in his, he initiated a twirl, their movements becoming an effortless dance that transcended the boundaries of the mundane.
With the flourish of the twirl, he pulled her back into an embrace, his arms securely wrapped around her as she pressed her chest into his. The room seemed to shift and warp in response to their shared rhythm, the walls pulsating with vibrant colors. Amaya's senses were heightened, and a giddy sensation of pure bliss bubbled within him.
He couldn't help but giggle, the sound ringing out like a melody of its own. As they swayed from side to side, the world around them transformed into a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues. The walls seemed to melt, morphing into fantastical shapes, and the air was alive with a surreal energy. In the midst of their dance, Amaya's eyes sparkled with delight, reflecting the whimsical spectacle unfolding around them.
As Amaya continued to dance in the hallucinatory state, the surroundings became increasingly fantastical. The room itself seemed to elongate and contract with each movement, creating a surreal sense of space. Vibrant patterns emerged on the walls, dancing in sync with the invisible music only Amaya could perceive.
Colors intensified, saturating the scene with vivid and otherworldly hues. The furniture in the room took on peculiar shapes, transforming into ethereal beings that seemed to join their dance. As Amaya twirled and swayed with his partner, ghostly figures appeared, mirroring their movements in a mesmerizing display.
The air became thick with a sweet, intoxicating fragrance, as if the very atmosphere was infused with the essence of an exotic garden. Sparkling lights flickered overhead, casting a magical glow that accentuated the dreamlike quality of the hallucination.
"What is happening?" he giggled, though mostly to himself as he seized the moment and placed a firm kiss on her lips.
Hear the music? What was the man going on about? Surely he didn't-
But the world seemed to bubble- and extend- appearing mot quite here nor there- yet not unreal as she could feel.. touch...
And sounds... she wasn't sure about music but she could see a halo emanating from all objects all around them- thrumming to an unsung tune that he claimed to hear.
Ansgar's balls- before she had succumbed completely to the drug- she arleast grew aware of it-
Especially the moment he pulled her in tightly - and an unseen fire singed between them. She gasped, smelling something acrid then sweet and she felt as if her body was melting along with the world. And then they were dancing again and it was as if the colors themselves pulled all around her, some crackling off pick fishing lines strung out I'm every direction but then they blended back in together - dribbling down into her like wax from a candle before she gave a yelp- fearing snakes at her feet.
But then Ellarrah was drawn into the man again, unseen steps in a dance she had forgotten they were apart of. And she blinked when he laughed- then she too was laughing.
"Love, I don't think that one was alcohol," she said, coy as she grinned ear to ear.
And then he kissed her- and the world seemed to soar.
"I don't think you're alcohol," Amaya replied with an unsurpassed chuckle before kissing her again, dancing to the band that hovered in the sky above them.
As the hallucinogen took hold of Amaya's senses, the world around him seemed to shift and warp, blurring the lines between reality and illusion. Colors danced before his eyes, vibrant hues swirling and melding together in a kaleidoscopic display. The air hummed with an otherworldly energy, and Amaya found himself caught in its intoxicating embrace.
Amidst the swirling chaos, Amaya's focus zeroed in on Ellarrah, the enigmatic elixir that held the key to his euphoric journey. With each kiss on her neck, he felt a surge of warmth spreading through his veins, a tantalizing caress that sent shivers of pleasure down his spine. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a symphony of flavors that danced across her palate with exquisite finesse.
As he savored the intricate nuances of Ellarrah, Amaya felt himself transcending the confines of his physical body, his consciousness expanding to encompass the vast expanse of the cosmos. He became a connoisseur of Ellarah, a seeker of truth and enlightenment amidst the swirling mists of uncertainty.
As the effects continued to weave their surreal tapestry, Amaya's senses were assaulted by a cacophony of sound that seemed to emanate from the very fabric of reality itself. The air vibrated with the rhythmic pulse of chanting, a hypnotic cadence that reverberated through her consciousness like a primal drumbeat.
Amaya's eyes widened in bewilderment as he surveyed his surroundings, his gaze falling upon a crowd of shadowy figures that seemed to materialize out of thin air. They were everywhere and nowhere at once, their forms shifting and morphing with the ebb and flow of the haze.
The chanting grew louder and more insistent, echoing in Amaya's ears like a crowded stadium. "Do it! Do it!" the voices cried out in unison, their words carrying an urgency for him to act.
And so he did. With one swift move (which was not so swift), he popped Ellarah's blouse wide open (was she wearing a blouse?), and his eyes fixated on her exposed skin - surprised that it was changing colors by the second.
And the crowd went fucking wild.
Well, she hadn't expected to get kissy faced so early in the night but.. well, Ellarrah was neither here nor there. She felt as though she were in some living dream, her body feeling slow and fast paced all at once.
And then she felt her breasts become exposed- her shirt being plucked open. She gasped, feeling the thrill of being exposed tickle from toes to belly to head. After a moment, she felt a shift in the world, her eyes lulling closed as zippering shapes and colors clawed in quick strokes about her- then blended away in a fluttering ir orange petals upon a creamy sky.
Lightning.. no.. small, elongated beams of light seemed to pock at the very reality that twisted around them like swirls of mixed colors on a canvas.
She couldn't even tell if her eyes were open or closed anymore when it seemed Amaya had returned into her vision- and she was becoming all but plastered to his form as she kissed him and growled through giggles at the very peculiar weight of it all.
Yep, Amaya was tripping balls, and somewhere along the line he was balls deep in Ellarah.
Amidst the kaleidoscope of swirling colors and melting walls, he felt an urgency unlike anything before. With a frenzied desperation fueled by her allure and the hallucinations that tainted him, he cleared the table in a flurry, books and glasses shattering and flipping to the floor, pressing her against it with a forceful intensity that bordered on primal.
Sex amidst hallucinations was an experience beyond compare. Despite the torrent of sensations assaulting his senses, he savored the exquisite pleasure of being enveloped by her warmth, her sex pulsating tightly around him, driving him to the brink of ecstasy time and again and he made her his that left no room for argument.
Every detail of her was perfect in that moment, magnified by the hallucinatory symphony engulfing his mind. Her breasts, her lips, every inch of her body felt like an intoxicating revelation, each touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him and giggles escape his lips.
But it was the imaginary crowd that egged him on, their phantom cheers and jeers spurring him onward. In the midst of their passionate entanglement, their ethereal presence intensified the experience, their raucous approval echoing in his ears as the sound of their bodies colliding and their skin slapping filled the confined space.
Despite her flirty nature, Ellarrah typically wasn't such a whore. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd taken a man to bed. Well, this may have pushed her experiences to a second hand- and level.
There was something savage about a man just claiming a woman, his body moving with need and friction with her own. There was something almost otherworldly about it, too. The drugs heightened that, making her feel so light as her eyes partially closed and colors sparkled at the corners of her vision as she feel him ram into her and take her to new heights of pleasure.
She felt weightless, nearly free of herself as she moved with her own savage fury and forced the man to bend her over the table, begging to be taken like a dog.
He took her from behind. It was hot, wet, unrelenting, and merciless as he yanked her hair, pulling her head closer to him. With each deliberate and dominating thrust, he hit her sweet spot, occasionally accompanying it with a spank to her soft ass during their rhythm.
The tingling pleasure in his cock was mounting, but he felt as if he didn't even need to cum. Perhaps it was the adrenaline or the drugs, but in that moment, he felt like he could persist for days on end inside of her, ravaging her body in a passion-fueled frenzy.
Meanwhile, Amaya's vision began to go absolutely haywire, turning the room into a psychedelic circus. Stars and supernovas danced around him, as if the universe had decided to throw a rave party in the room. The walls seemed to twist and contort, transforming into abstract shapes that defied all logic. Giant mushrooms sprouted from the floor, and rainbow-colored unicorns pranced around him in a merry procession.
In that moment, he had completely forgotten that Ellarah was even there, despite the clear evidence as the table he had her bending over was rocking back and forth in a violent fury.
She cried out in pleasure and joy- colors pulsating out from her as the world dripped in a fanfare of colors.Andd the pair writhed on emotions and pure, raw need. She gasped as she felt him yank her hair, forcing her head back as she smiled.
She couldn't help it, the blossoming sensations of visual effects and the churning of the drugs did a number on her psyche. And by Ansgar's name- each time his balls slapped her already sensitive sex- she felt her body reach a new height- as if he was playing her like a well tuned instrument. And she sang out in ecstasy.
Never mind how she moaned over being slapped.
What was even his name again? Where even was here? Did it matter?
No. No it did not, as her laughter echoed around them as it curled around moans and screams.
It felt as though the Gods themselves had descended from the heavens to make love to him all night long. In that moment, there was no longer Ellarah; there was only Amaya and the Gods, sucking each other off that transcended the constraints of time and meaning. Amaya found himself drinking wine straight from the Goddess's left tit, his senses tingling with divine ecstasy.
But then reality crashed back in - Ellarah was still there, and he was absolutely railing her. Amidst the swirling colors and divine ambrosia, he refocused on her presence, his grip on the back of her head loose but commanding.
His earlier thoughts proved to be mistaken; he was indeed on the brink of climax. As they moved together in a rhythm that felt like an endless bliss, Amaya's distorted mind managed to contemplate the consequences. It wouldn't be prudent to impregnate Ellarah; after all, they barely knew each other, and she was his bounty - they needed to maintain professionalism (the irony of their sacred clapping of the cheeks was not lost on him).
"Yo," he called out, lifting her head slightly to rest his cheek against hers. "I'm about to explode. Where do you want it?"
What was he asking?
What was he even saying?
It registered- kind of and before he might know what was going on, she turned around-yanking her hair free- and hooked her legs around him in a vice, laughing as she leaned back at his minstrations. But then she sat up on the table- grabbing him now by the hair and yanking him into a rough kiss.
"Who said we were done, love? 'Cause I'm gonna fuck you to the moon."
My gods this woman was insatiable!
But who was he to complain about such enthusiastic company? As she pulled him into a fervent kiss, he reached behind her to grab a bottle of liquor, quickly downing a shot to steady himself and prolong the pleasure. "Show me what you've got," he playfully challenged, reclining on the table and inviting her to join him on top.
Despite the lingering effects of the hallucinogenic substance, with its bizarre visions of cheering crowds and acrobatic three-headed felines, he focused on the woman before him. His senses heightened, he felt every sensation intensely, and his body responded eagerly to her touch.
Now on top, her booted legs (because .. well.. those had been left on during their undressing process) pinned him beneath her- making Amaya completely at her mercy. Her lips curled wickedly as hips rolled over top of him, commanding and delicious.
She tossed her head back in a laugh, body moving and the world still bleeding in a euphoria of colors and she felt the heat and pleasure rise and rise until her own peak began to grow near-
"Fucking Ansgar's balls! Fucking why is this so good!?" She laughed and pinned him down harshly, moving frantic with a wild and furious need.
She was meant over so low now her forehead rested to hid and he'd be able to feel and hear all the moans and sounded she elicited from his body- and her own- so high on drugs and alchohol.
Amaya lay sprawled like a discarded puppet, her body yielding to every whim and desire as she used him as her conduit to ecstasy. His gaze wandered the room, taking in the thick scent of their lovemaking that hung heavy in the air like an invisible tapestry woven from passion and sweat. Beads of perspiration coalesced into sticky rivulets, tracing erratic paths down their flushed skin, mirroring the frenzied dance of their bodies entwined below.
As the last remnants of sweat dared to flee through an open window, his focus snapped back to the woman astride him, her movements a symphony of carnal urgency. His hands found purchase on her hips, guiding her rhythm with a mixture of fervor and impatience. "Are you done yet?" he teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
With a swift motion, he hoisted her from the table, his grasp firm as he maneuvered her against the wall, her spine pressed flush against its cool surface. Holding her aloft, he plunged into her with a primal hunger, claiming her as his own with each thrust. The pressure within him built relentlessly, an inferno raging beneath the surface, indifferent to the numbing effects of drugs or alcohol. Soon, that explosion of pent-up desire would erupt, consuming them both in a blaze of primal passion.
He couldn't hold it in any longer. With an urgent resolve to avoid fatherhood at all costs, he withdrew from her with a swift motion. As she slid to the ground, a torrent of white-hot, sticky release erupted from him, painting her chest in an explosive display, accompanied by a deep, guttural groan of satisfaction.
Ellarrah sat there; a panting, sweaty mess. The afterglow of all.. all that was enough to really take it out of her. She didn't even really seem to notice the sticky white mess, whose globs rolled down her ample chest from where he coated her as she just closed her eyes with a moan.
"The hell was in that drink?" She asked, after a time.
Amaya's body glistened with sweat, and his balls felt drained, evidenced by the masterpiece he had painted across her breasts. "Something wonderful," he replied, still feeling the lingering effects of their encounter.
In all his naked glory, he sauntered over to the bathroom area to fetch a towel, first wiping at his pulsating member before tossing it her way.
He observed her quietly for a moment. She was actually a pretty cool gal. With a smoking body and a pretty face, what a night it had been. She was sure not to be pleased when he handed her over to the authorities the next day.
Still, he might as well enjoy her company while he had it. Letting himself relax onto the bed they had made no use of, he asked, "Wanna cuddle?"
She was still coming off the effects of well, whatever that was they had been on. And it was only when she moved did she make a disgusted noise as she looked down at her chest.
"Ansgar's balls, boys are messy."
She finally accepted the towel and began to wipe herself off. Then she eyed the man on the bed.
She raised a brow at his suggestion.
"Not particularly. Ansgar's name do I need a bath," she complained before finally standing, still working at the mess.
BoYs ArE mEsSy.
"Suit yourself," Amaya remarked with a coy grin, before motioning to the room behind him. "Bath's in there. Help yourself."
As Amaya reclined on the bed, he reached for a nearby book, its pages worn from frequent use. With a nonchalant air, he began to read aloud to himself, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips. The effects of the drugs still lingered, casting a hazy veil over his senses, but they were slowly fading away, leaving behind a sense of clarity.