Old Habits

Isthar knelt before me, undoing the lace of my drawers and letting the soft material drift down my legs. I stood naked before her in all my slender glory; I raised my hands and gave my tits a firm squeeze, looking down into her lust-blown eyes. I'm sure my smile was very smug, for she got to her feet and pushed me, hard. I tumbled back onto the soft furs with a disgruntled cry, legs sprawling open as I struggled to right myself.

"You--!" My complaint dissolved into a needy moan as her hot tongue ran a hot, wet stripe between the lips of my pussy. I grabbed onto the sides of her head, twitching my hips almost helplessly. Isthar actually laughed, and the sound seemed to vibrate right through my clit. She grasped my wrists and pinned them down at my sides, Her grasp felt as if it could snap my bones, but she didn't squeeze too hard,even as her tongue swirled and jabbed inside me.

It was better than I ever had, and I've had a lot. My body hummed under her touch. Every time she fluttered her tongue rapidly against my pussy-lips, or gently tapped my clit, I arched my back and begged, trying to get more of her tongue. I writhed and tried to free my wrists, but her hold was unrelenting.

I let out a stream of breathless, nonsensical pleas. "Isthar," I begged, only vaguely aware of what I was saying. "Please, sōheen. Come up here and fuck me."

Isthar reared up as if I had kicked her in the face. Considering that my legs had been draped over her shoulders, that situation wasn't an impossibility. Her lips were shiny, smeared with my juices and her spit.

"What did you call me?" she asked, staring down at me with an odd expression. I blinked, my mind still in a haze.

"I...what?"

Her lips pressed together briefly, and she shook her head. She sat back on her heels between my spread legs. I sat up as she pulled off her shirt, and I didn't wait for an invitation: I reached out and cupped her tits almost reverently. The grey skin of my hands contrasted nicely against the smooth brown of her skin, and I leaned forward to suckle on one nipple. Isthar hissed as I bit it lightly and then licked around the hard, thick teat. I pulled back, gazing up at her as I switched to the other tit, flicking my tongue against the crinkled flesh.

"Good girl." she murmured, undoing my braid and running her fingers through my long hair. I closed my eyes and sucked a little harder, reaching into her trousers to fondle her cock. It was hot in my hand, and hard, but the skin was delightfully soft. I stroked it a few times, using my thumb to smear around the pre-cum oozing from her slit. I enjoyed the huge length of it, and fondled the heavy balls. I'd never had another dick so big in me, and I shook with eagerness.

Isthar pulled my hand away with a grimace, as if in pain. "Lie back, Zorn," she said and shoved down her trousers, taking them off. I nearly said who's Zorn, and just barely managed to keep my mouth shut on that one. For a free surprisingly agonizing beats, I debated telling her my real name. I'm called Lujankir Ruzhyll Delance, I would say. Lujankir from my mother. It means Small One. Ogres don't usually share the names their mothers gave them, unless it's a special situation, like a spell to quell a demon or to build wards...or to share with a special person.

Her gaze remained fixed on me as I did as she asked, but I couldn't help go up on my elbows to watch her grip her cock at the thick root of it. I inhaled deeply; the deep, sharp smell of her, no doubt helped by the thick thatch of dark hair at her crotch, was intoxicating.. She gave her thick dick a few slow pumps, and I felt my cunt spasm in anticipation at each pull of her hand. She crawled over me and I spread my legs even wider, wanton and panting as she rubbed the flared head right between my wide cunt-lips. I wrapped my legs around her hips and tried to pull her in, but she braced one hand at the side of my head and resisted, laughing.

"So impatient, Zorn," she murmured, pushing into me at an agonizingly slow rate. My breathing quickened, for her cock was so thick that it stretched me almost to the point of pain. It was a snug fit, almost too tight. As she pulled back it felt as if my insides tugged in her wake. That prick of hers emerged from between my cunt-lips, darkly shining with our mingled essence. Isthar shoved back up into me, faster than before and with a low grunt as my inner walls clenched around her throbbing pole.

I clamped one hand over my mouth, stifling my high-pitched whimpers as she thrust into me over and over again; both of her hands gripped the furs on either side of my head as she pounded my pussy. Sweat beaded along the places our skin touched, spreading damply. Her nutsack slapped against my skin, and the feel of it drove me wild.

"Move your hand," Isthar gritted out and I shook my head. I didn't like being loud, even during a nice fuck. Abruptly, she pulled out of me and before I could cry out in protest, I found myself flipped over: ass in the air, cheek planted into the bedcovers. Isthar worked quickly: she seized my wrists and held my arms behind my back with one hand, buried her cock back into my hungry snatch and gripped the back of my neck with the other hand. She held me in place as she went back to plundering my tender insides.

I heard someone shouting hoarsely, cursing and begging at once. Apparently, that someone was me: "Isthar, fuck! Nnnngg, harder. Harder!" I sobbed as I tried to wriggle out of her relentless hold, but she didn't release me. I think that if I clearly asked her to let me go, she would have; but it felt so good to be pinned down, her prick battering my snatch as I tried to free myself.

"Isthar, yes! Oh--oh--I'm cumming--" I didn't have any more space for coherence. My toes curled up as pure sensation radiated from my core and spread to all parts of me. I moaned her name as I thrashed within her grasp. She held still for a few moments as I shook apart, impaled on her rampant pole. The furs rubbed against my erect nipples and that sensation added to the pleasure-filled moment. Isthar released my wrists and grabbed my hips. Weakly, I moaned and barely managed to grip the bed-covers as her rhythm dissolved into wild bucking. With a final, harsh thrust, she went rigid.

Isthar's load flooded me with shocking warmth. I twitched feebly, startled at the quantity of it: It didn't seem to stop, and I heard her grunt with every pulsation of her cock. Some of her release seeped out of me, even though her prick still plugged my hole.

She sighed as her spent cock slipped out of my cunt and a gush of cum spewed out after her, splattering on my thighs. Exhausted, I slumped over to lie on my side, kicking out irritably as she stroked at my over-sensitive labia, smearing around the sloppy mess even more.

"I'll stay here for the rest of the night," I told her, grabbing one of the many fluffy skins covering the bed and wiping at the spend between my legs in the most perfunctory way. Throwing the fur in an arbitrary direction, I reached up to sling my arm around her neck and pull her close. Isthar shifted us around until we lay with our arms around each other, my leg thrown over her hip.

I found myself stroking the curve of her ribs, and placing quick kisses on her collarbone and shoulders, drowsy and well-fucked.

"Sleep, sōheen," she muttered, and how easy it was to follow her voice into slumber.

Three

I woke up about two hours before sunrise, and found that I'd rolled to the edge of the bed. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, ignoring the sharp twinge in my thighs as I got up. I glanced over at Isthar's prone form; she lay with one hand stretched out in my direction. She shifted and mumbled as I slipped off the bed. I had good night vision, and it adjusted quickly enough for me to search for my clothing and pouch. Dressing swiftly, I set off through the door, pausing as Isthar grumbled again and then fell still. I experienced a convincing urge to just go back to bed; I could wake Isthar and get her to finger me, probably grease my asshole and give me a solid fuck. My cunt throbbed just at the thought of it. I pressed my lips tightly together and firmed my resolve: I had a job to do. I had to get paid, a reputation to uphold and all that.

As I stood outside Isthar's door, I recalled the impression of Marchel's shadow. In the center of my mind, I felt a very persistent tug: like a compass, it directed me to the left, and from the strength of the pull, I could tell that she was near. I slunk along the corridor, pausing twice when the watch made their rounds. I simply stepped back against the wall and let the shadows fold over my body, hiding me from sight.

Viosthar's door wasn't locked, for who would try to break into the room of the Jiyiō, right in the middle of this spire? I closed it behind me with nary a click and surveyed the huge bed in the center of the sizable room. Cool air drifted through the open, arched windows which overlooked the great plaza many levels below. I spotted Viosthar's nude bulk, and just as naked atop him, Marchel sprawled like a satisfied cat. When I took a step, Viosthar flinched as if I'd tossed dirt in his face, and I froze; and one muscular arm wrapped over Marchel's voluptuous body. She wriggled a little and then went quiet once more.

The big Dōsjinni obviously slept light, but I could move lighter. Taking another step, I raised my arms and swept them slowly through the air, coaxing the shadows to do my bidding. They came forth willingly and I directed them to pack themselves around Marchel. It was painstaking work, and all my concentration was bent on gently lifting his arm, high enough that I could began to float Marchel from atop him. I left a Marchel-shaped clump of shadows in her place and then stood still for a few beats. A slight frown had gathered between Viosthar's heavy eyebrows and for a moment I thought he would awaken. Then, his scowl smoothed out and I exhaled silently.

Turning, I gathered Marchel's sleeping form in my arms, wrapped and padded by a thin layer of shadows. I hurried to the windows and I don't know, maybe it was the cool of the night-breeze or the way I moved, but Marchel twitched in my arms.

"What--" Her voice was heavy with sleep, but when she turned her head and stared at up me, her eyes were wide and aware. "Viosthar!"

A thick roar rose from the bed behind me and I didn't give myself a chance to find out just how quickly the Dōsjin moved. I spun around, almost losing hold of Marchel as she tried to throw herself out of my grasp. I flung out one hand at Viosthar even as he leapt towards us. He almost got to me in that single bound, but the shadows under my power snagged his arms and legs. His body jolted in mid-air, and he thundered again as the shadows dragged him back. I thought I heard a thread of panic in his voice, but I had no time to ponder over that; I grabbed the struggling Marchel with both hands once more and hauled her out of a window, the edge of the stone sill scraping my leg.

She screamed as we fell, but the shadows had already begun to take care of us. They wrapped around my waist, anchored to the sides of the spire, and began to slow our descent. They released me as I touched down on the top of the stairs right in front of the main entry and I ran down them with Marchel thrown over my shoulder. As I sprinted across the plaza, the shadows flowed along the ground around us, keeping pace easily. The ruckus started up behind us, shouts and the war-cry of horns. Glancing back, I spotted a group of Dōsjin gathered atop the stairs, Isthar at the very front. She had a length of fur wrapped around her waist, as if she'd dragged it off our bed.

I stumbled at how I'd thought about that: our bed. That was my first mistake. The other one was to allow disbelief to rush through me as I watched Isthar notch an arrow into a bow. She drew it and pointed right at me without hesitation.

At the same time, Marchel gave a mighty heave and you know, I blame Isthar for everything that happened at this point. A thin whistle was my only warning and then the arrow buried itself into the back of my right shoulder. Crying out at the blast of pain, I let Marchel fall. She tumbled to the ground and shouted as she landed. I distinctly heard the sharp crack of a bone breaking and hoped that it wasn't in her neck. Humans were so frail.

In the midst of my pain and dismay, I lost control over the shadows.

Now, don't look at me like that, my friend: it happens. Well, it's happened to me before, but only under extreme circumstances, such as being shot in the shoulder with a very large arrow. I'll admit that my half-blood status might have something to do with it, but I'll tell you this: I'm leagues better at manipulating the shadows than any full-blood elf. Why, when I went to a shadow-elf stronghold after I left my mother's home and those snotty assholes refused to take me in because I was only a half-breed, I stole into their bastion with ease. I caused a good amount of damage, too; enough that they hired a dragon-mage to construct wards against me.

But, as I said, it happens. The unfortunate thing about uncontrolled shadows is that they can get hysterical. They simply don't know what to do, really. The ones around me reared up and then pounced on Marchel.

"Stop!" I cried at them, but they ignored me, piling on Marchel's naked form, wrapping tightly. She hadn't broken her neck, not from the way she tried to flail, but the shadows muffled her cries and I'm sure they began to stop her breath.

I didn't think. I reached over my shoulder and dragged out the arrow. Blood dripped down my back, and my vision blurred as I focused on the wooden shaft. For a brief beat, I felt dread's icy touch in the pit of my stomach as nothing happened; then, my blue flames erupted along the arrow, almost setting fire to my cape.

"Sorry, my dears," I muttered right before I thrust the bright light and heat into the twisting mass of shadows. They shrunk back and I managed to exert my control over them once more, sending them fleeing back to their proper places. Marchel, thankfully alive, struggled to sit up. She trembled, cradling her limp left arm with her right, gazing at me with wide eyes as I collapsed to my knees.

"Why?" she whispered as Dōsjin fighters stampeded up to us. "Why did you try to take me from Viosthar?"

"I was contracted to bring you home," I told her, and then curled up on my side on the ground because it seemed like a very good idea. "By your brother."

Her lovely face twisted in dismay and rage. "I won't go back to him! I ran away for a reason!" She set her jaw. "I am home!"

"There goes my deposit, then," I muttered and groaned as the Dōsjin seized me, and dragged me to my feet. They showed far more care to Marchel, wrapping thick swaths of cloth and fur around her. Then, they dragged me around to face Viosthar and Isthar, who stood there with matching stony countenances. "Oh. Hello there, sōheen."

It was hard to miss the intake of breath from everyone around us. Viosthar actually turned to give Isthar a long, questioning stare. Isthar's chin tilted up a fraction and she cut her gaze away from mine.

"Take her to the dungeons," she commanded. "Make sure there's lots of light. And get Coisha." Her tone was clipped. She turned away from me, and I got a bit angry at myself because I felt my heart sink as she walked away. Also, Coisha. If I'd known she was in the area, I would have never come near this damned spire. As I've said before, the majority of Dōsjin possess innate, implicit magic, but when they have direct abilities, they're strong. Dragon-mage strong, and Coisha was the best of them.

After all, she had been the mage to ward me away from the shadow-elf stronghold.

---

Coisha laughed in my face as we sat facing each other in the brightly lit dungeon. There might have been a thousand torches blazing along the walls and fat candles arrayed on the floor. There wasn't a shadow in the room. I perched on a low stool, glowering at Coisha as her hands clutched my wrists, tightening the bronzed bracers against my skin. She chuckled as she checked her binding charms, which suppressed most of my own powers. Coisha sat back and grinned at me, then dissolved into more helpless laughter.

"I'm so glad that this all amuses you," I said, my tone stiff. I tried to yank off the bracers, even though I knew that I simply didn't have the ability to counter her charms. Coisha kept snickering, wiping amused tears from her cheeks. Coisha had the kind of face that was very old and very young at the same time. Her face was almost as narrow as mine, but the rest of her features appeared overly large for her face: big round eyes, with that vertical pupil of the Dōsjin; a large, hooked nose and very full lips.

"It's very funny. Ruzhyll Delance, Scourge of the East," she said, still chortling. "Finally caught!"

I bared my teeth. Whenever she put up a ward against me, I couldn't go within leagues of a place without feeling as if I would explode. Knowing Coisha's strength, it was possible that I would shatter to pieces if I took those kinds of chances. It was fortunate that her services were expensive, or else I'd be out of a job. Unfortunately, Coisha had more knowledge of me than I felt comfortable with.

"I know you're better than this," she said, most of the good humour now wiped away from her features. I sighed; this was a well-worn refrain, coming from her. "Lujankir--"

"Don't call me that," I snapped. My ogre-name was her key to warding me away from places; she managed to wrangle that out of my mother, many years ago. Coisha gave me what appeared to be a sympathetic look.

"My apologies, Ruzhyll," she said and then rose, putting her chair to one side. Her many layers of gold jewelry clinked against each other and I glanced at them tiredly. I didn't have the urge to steal them; that was probably a part of her damned binding spell. She placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and I forced myself not to cringe away from the weight of her power. Her magic hauled at my wound, which the Dōsjin had already cleaned and dressed to the best of their ability. I winced as the flesh knitted together.

Right after Coisha finished patching me up, she said, "Your mother once told me that she wished you could find your way home."

I frowned and tried to shrug off her hand, but she didn't move it.

"She's doing well," Coisha murmured. "The healing potions you sent for her bout of ash-pox were very helpful." She paused, waiting for me to answer but I offered none. Coisha sighed. "I've told the Jiyiō and Isthar that I've known you since you were a child. I've asked for leniency in your sentencing."

"I don't need your help," I snarled at her. "And I hope you haven't told them my ogre-name."

"Why would I share such a thing?" Coisha's tone was coy as she extinguished most of the candles with a wave of her hand and then shifted them to create a clear path to the metal door. I sensed the presence of the shadows as they settled within the corners again, but my magic was reticent behind Coisha's charmed bracers. "It is up to you to choose what you want to share."

"Coisha--" I started, but I fell silent as the door swung open. Viosthar and Isthar strode in, They both wore the same type of simple garments: a long, loose shirt over dark trousers. Viosthar held no weaponry, but Isthar still had her bow. I gave that bow the most accusing stare I could manage, then included Isthar in that glare. She stared back at me, woodenly.

"Jiyiō Viosthar," Coisha called and conjured an intricately carved seat right out of mid-air. She set it down in front of me, and smiled benignly as he sat down. "And Biriyō Isthar, you may have my chair." Coisha dropped me a very surreptitious wink. "Biriyō means 'general', Ruzhyll."