Content Warning

Greetings and Salutations.
Because my stories have bite, they can contain content that isn't suitable for work or children. Not a lot of truly graphic sex or violence, but there are some questionable or heated posts. F-bombs are not uncommon, so watch your footing.

Monday, May 20, 2019

The Shalafae Archives - Roughly

During Lashing Out, Elthanael was just starting the search for the missing Morrigana. The hunt went on for fifteen years, and he slowly fell deeper into depression and frustration.


"Well, someone is looking a little rough around the edges."

Elthanael looked up at the voice, too drunk to recognize her at first. "Keldara?" The elf frowned, gripping his drink, senses slowly coming to bear.

The black dragon sat across from him, wearing an elven form. It was wrong, though. Too sharp, too pale, too vicious. Like the Stygian clan she was. "Your manners certainly haven't improved."

"What the fuck do you want?" His words slurred, but he was able to lay a hand on the hilt of one short sword. Whether he could attack was still up for debate.

"Oh, darling," Keldara crooned, plucking the bottle of rum from the table. "You're just a fucking wreck, aren't you?" She laughed then took a drink.

He stared at her, anger and frustration bubbling up from inside. Kaldara had been the occasional thorn in his side for too damn long, and he was too damn drunk to even remember when his hatred of her had started.

All El could think about was how little he wanted to deal with her. "I don't have time for this." He rose, snatched his bottle, and stomped toward his rooms.

Keldara followed, close on his heels up the stairs. "I mean, I'd heard rumors that she was out of the picture, but seeing you like this..." Her voice contained a hint of laughter.

Elthanael stopped, shoulders stiffening. but he said nothing even though his hands shook.

The dragoness came to his side, wearing a crooked smile, reaching for his bottle. "I mean, the short hair, the scruffy beard, the patched armor..." She took a long drink. "Morrigana'd never let you look this rough and shitty."

Anger flared through the elf. He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall. Elthanael growled, barely able to form the words. "What the fuck do you want?"

Keldara laughed, revealing sharply pointed teeth. She didn't struggle against his hold; instead, she pushed into it. "Is that the best you got?" THe dragoness lifted clawed hands to his shoulders.

He stared into her eyes, teeth gritted, unmoving except for his trembling hand. This bitch had harassed them for centuries, taunting Morrigana's clan, warning their minor targets, disrupting missions. Never enough to earn his commander's full wrath, to earn a death sentence, but enough to aggravate El endlessly. So often he'd wanted to strangle her, just like this.

Keldara shifted, face darkening as blood built up, and licked her lower lip. A forked tongue, like Gana. Pale skin and dark hair, like Gana. A wave of spicy scent rose, and even that reminded him of Gana.

Something shifted inside, filling his chest with heat, bearing sweat along his spine. Not anger or rage, but something akin in the ferocity of passion that surged with every breath.

Elthanael closed the gap in a flash, stealing a kiss, crushing Keldara's mouth with his, releasing her throat. She moaned, almost a laugh, and ran her hands up into his shorn hair.

The dragon's leg rose to wrap around his hips, and the elf succumbed entirely.

He ripped at her clothes as she ripped at his. They didn't bother getting completely naked; as soon as the important parts were exposed, they joined. Keldara clung to him, wrapped tightly to the elf while he helped himself to her body.

There was nothing of pleasure in his motions, not even for himself. THis act was of violence and desperation, an attempt to find absolution through something primal and mindless. He needed friction to burn away the pain, and sought it from the softest places of her body.

Keldara didn't seem to mind, not that El cared in his feral state. Her moans did reach him, and her crooned encouragements spurred him on to increased efforts. Her heels dug into his thighs, her hands pulled at his hair when her claws weren't scratching at his neck. She welcomed him deeper with each thrust, matching his desperation with a raw fury of her own.

Climax arrived soon, with the force of a hurricane. Elthanael groaned against her throat, then roared when she dug claws into his lower back. He bucked and thrust deeper than he had yet, shuddering from head to toe. Keldara shrieked, legs locked like a vice around him.

They remained locked like that, panting, sweating, unwilling to disentangle at the moment. Pleasure had been found. Maybe a form of catharsis. There was no love here, no deeper connection, no need for the other. It was simply easier to remain in contact than move apart.

"Damn, you're good," Keldara finally said. "No wonder she keeps you all to herself."

He froze, torn between anger and shock, unable to think straight. This was not one of her normal jibes, but reminding him of Morrigana was cruel in the fog of post-coital endorphins. Elthanael leaned back, frowning, unable to speak.

A spark danced in the back of his head. Something familiar and nearly forgotten. Fifteen years without the beloved tough of her presence, had numbed Elthanael to the lack of her to the point he;d overlooked its return.

Morrigana was back.

He shoved away from Keldara, raw emotion warring inside him. Within each heartbeat, panic turned to joy, turned to relief, turned to excitement, turned to devastating loss. "I have to go," he whispered.

Keldara frowned at his sudden change of demeanor, but he was too busy gating away to notice her disappointment. All that mattered was seeing Gana again.