The Song of Roland Ch. 10

"Roland." She said, sitting across from him in the single cell dungeon in which he was trapped. He didn't respond to it; he knew she wasn't there. His head hung low as his neck drooped, his red mane of hair falling down his face as he struggled with the phantasm's voice in his ear. He sat on the bare stone floor, one leg sticking out and the other pulled up, his knee level with his chest as he tried to take deep, steady breaths.

"Roland, look at me." She said, her voice flecked with that hint of warmth and gentleness that he'd loved so much in her. With the lethargy of one who knew the fruitlessness of his actions Roland lifted his head, staring dully as she sat across from him, her body posture mirroring his own as she sat. She was as real as if she'd stepped through the river of time to speak to him. "Why the long face, my flame?"

She'd loved his red hair. She said it was what had drawn her to him, in the first place. When it caught the light of the battlements in the afternoon sun, it looked like his head was wreathed in fire. She was the torch that burned in his belly, the gangrenous knife wound that twisted every time he thought overlong about her. "Shut up." He muttered. She was always the one who had a way with words, not he.

She smiled, her pearlescent teeth glimmering in the grimy darkness as though it were a mirror reflecting sunlight. He thought he'd been finally rid of her; it had taken years of wanderlust and uncounted gallons of alcohol but Roland had finally managed to banish her ghost from his mind. It had been months since he'd last heard her laugh upon the wind, and years since she'd been such a distinct presence in his mind that she'd manifested this clearly to him. He thought her effect had worn off... clearly it hadn't.

"I'm mad." He said, the deep, shuddering sob that wracked his body a testament to his state of mind. "Gods, just leave me be." He had always known - or at least been told - that beings like her left lasting imprints on their chosen mates. It wasn't enough for them to simply enthrall, they wanted complete physical, emotional, and spiritual submission. For some it was a simple matter of overloading senses, injecting addicting fluids, and twisting their own physicality against them. For others it was more subtle: manipulation, treachery; the dancing game of courtship and intrigue, only with far more cogent consequences on a lost gamble. And then, there were those who used love. They were the most insidious of all: ingratiating themselves to their prospects with the simple acts of kindness, compassion, trust and tenderness.

She had chosen the latter option. She met him in the night, now nearly ten years ago, out on patrol through the castle's streets as she carried a basket of grapes for the kitchens. A short conversation about wine became a friendly chat, became a long stroll, became a promised meeting, and, finally, a stolen kiss. She met him on break, on patrol duty, atop the battlements in the long hours of drudgery watching the walls to a keep never truly under threat. When Roland first pulled her against him and she sighed in his mouth, he'd felt a terrified shiver run up his spine as he wondered: is this love?

It was, whatever could be said about it after. She began to consume his life: his free time ended in her arms instead of at the bar, and his nights spent in her bed rather than at the barracks When she'd place a hand against his cheek, when her back would arch and she'd cling to the bedsheets as she cried out his name, Roland knew he could never leave her. A young man who'd never before given a passing thought to progeny now wondered what their children would look like. A youth who never even considered the future now imagined what might come after; what they might do, where they might go.

"Roland." She whispered to him, now inside the cell. Her scent was like sunflowers on the wind. One day she had led him to a place outside the castle, to a secluded stand where the beautiful blooms shifted and swayed in the breeze. He'd smelled them as he fell down upon her, laughing and rolling. He stalked her shifting, darting form through the shadows of the hidden grove. When she revealed the truth to him she'd done it like a trembling maid, her body molding and changing as she grew a tail, a pair of horns, and an otherworldly skin tone.

"It's just me." She'd said, taking his face in her hands as he jerked away and searched around wildly for his beloved that this creature had stolen from him. "It's me, love. It's me, my flame."

"What have you done with her?" He'd said, breaking down as a sudden, near-addictive need arose within him. He had to see her again! Her face shifted back, and he saw the object of his obsession arise again, pink-skinned and smiling. Roland sagged into her arms and she cradled him, whispering how everything would be all right and that she'd take care of him. Her voice had a sing-song quality to it, her words crawling like little loving tendrils in his ear. Roland remembered the smell of sunflowers, his eyes lidding low as he'd fallen asleep to the sound of her voice, despite not feeling tired.

"Roland." She said, now sitting less than a few feet across from his slumped body with that sultry smile she saved for only him. She didn't touch him, her echo could not manage that at least - thank the Gods. It didn't stop her from calling to him in other ways. "I need you. I've missed you so much." He didn't respond, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. He could feel his fingernails draw blood upon his palms. "Why don't you say something, love?"

"Because you're not real." He said, staring into the eyes of his hallucination and praying to all the Gods and the eight helspires that he be pulled away from this ceaseless torment. She smiled at him, an indistinct mirage with all the lines and definitions of reality fogging around her nonexistence. She stared at him, even her eye color and hair an impossible to characterize blot of hue in the darkness. She was like a snapshot, a momentary image taken in a blur that had no true permanence. He remembered smells, feelings, sensations. She was a phantom limb of the heart. Why had she returned?

"Roland." She said, her voice shifting to the cadence of another's. She turned her head at the same time he did to the sound of scraping against the door of his cell. The door pressed open with a heavy thud, causing Roland to stumble to his feet. "Roland." Two people said, slowly fading to only one. "Roland!" Kelsea was standing in front of him, a sly smile on her face. "I got the keys." She said proudly, spinning the ring around on her finger as she quirked her lips and planted a hand on her hip. She was in her traveling gear, her pack on her back.

"How the fuck did you-" He said, and she stepped forward, dropping her pack and pushing him up against the wall. She kissed him with the same fierceness he'd given her at the tavern, before the town guard had come and arrested the lot of them. The guards had planned to sort out what had happened in the aftermath, but apparently the cheeky Succubus wasn't giving them that chance. Against his better judgement the man pulled her closer, feeling her lithe form and large breasts shove against him as he was reminded of someone else. Kelsea nipped his lip in playful teasing before pulling back, her blue eyes shining.

"I've missed you, Roland." She said.

"It was barely an evening." He replied. He jerked as he felt her hand roughly fondle his crotch through his trousers.

"And?" She said, squeezing him appreciatively. "I can't miss my companion and fuckbuddy, even if it's for only a little while?" She inhaled his scent, "It felt like a lifetime." She whispered, planting a smooch against his neck. He threaded his hand through her hair, his other reaching down to grope at her rear through her pants. He felt the cushion of her ass in his hand, jiggling pleasantly between his fingers. He spanked her and she cooed, leaning harder against him.

"Need your fix, yeah?" Roland replied, grasping her by the back of the neck and aligning his face down atop hers. They met again, her tongue probing though his lips to find his own. "How did you get out?" He asked. She chuckled.

"Guess."

Roland grasped against her rear with both hands, kneading with his thick fingers, causing her to moan. "You fucked the guard."

"Shagged his brains out." She said, a naughty smile stealing across her lips. She lifted her voice, taking on the persona of a hapless girl. "Oh, Mr. Guard!" She groaned, "I'm feeling so lonely in here! That man fed me a lust potion, and ever since I've been leaking everywhere! I just... I need you, sir! Can you help me? Y-you... you don't have to pull out!" She put her tongue in her cheek. "Gods, men are gullible."

"You've got magic." He replied, "Anyone not expecting what you are can fall prey to that trick. No matter how awful your sex talk is."

"You didn't 'fall prey' to me." She said, looking up at him with what almost looked like admiration in her eyes. He stared down at her, his face going serious. "You took me like a stud and brought me along for the ride, to boot! So hot. I'm actually juicing myself at the thought."

"This time." Roland corrected her, his voice dropping away. "This time I didn't."

"Something wrong?" She said, cocking her head. "Tell you the truth, I thought you'd be spunkier to see me."

"We should get out of here." He said, moving her aside gently as he stepped out into the hall of the jail. There was someone waiting for them. Roland's eyes flashed and he moved to punch the offending cunt. "Oi! What the fuck are you doin-" He began, but he felt Kelsea's arm grasp his cranked arm, pulling it back with a surprising strength.

"Stop, Roland! He's with us!" She said, pointing at the blonde haired adonis standing impassively in the hall, his bow at his back.

"This is Carl Hale, one of the pricks who got us locked up here!" He said, his eyes never leaving the Briar Dog for a second. The man was deadly with a bow. Carl did not respond, merely standing in place, his eyes trained ahead to some unfathomable distance.

"I know." Kelsea replied, running a hand along Roland's back, trying to soothe the savage beast. "That's why I made sure he's good and pliant. Watch. Carl?" Carl's green eyes shifted like a golem's to stare straight at Kelsea.

"Yes?" He said, his voice dry and robotic.

"Grab Roland's pack. We're getting out of here." Kelsea took her own newly acquired weapon off the wall, using the man-catcher like a walking staff as they began to head down the hallway. Carl did as she told him, hefting the second pack over his shoulder alongside his own and the bow. Roland took his sword belt, which had been set to the side by the Succubus and her newest pet and wrapped it around his waist, moving to hurry up.

"What did you do to him?" He asked, knowing full well.

Kelsea's face scrunched. "I... I don't know. He was locked into the cell next to mine. When I seduced the guard he started shouting and making a racket about 'Demons' and then..." She shrugged. "I went into his cell to make sure he didn't talk."

"You could have just as easily cut his throat." Roland growled, pushing the the spellbound fool out of his way so he could walk next to Kelsea. He noticed the man's crippled leg had healed by some mystical force. He could only imagine where Kelsea's mouth had been minutes ago. Carl followed dutifully along behind. Kelsea stepped to the side, leaning against Roland with her body as they walked up the narrow corridor.

"Roland." She said, her voice almost chiding. "You should know me better than that by now. I just..." She lowered her face, her nose pointing low as she thought. "I saw him, shouting, and no matter what I did I couldn't get him to 'want' me... or to quiet down. So I- I used the fluids the guard gave me. I made him want me."

"You enthralled him." He said, his arm unconsciously reaching around to pull her against him. He could not stop marvelling at the unbearable heat she radiated. "He'll do as you say- for now. But we can't keep him like this. The moment it wears off, he'll slit our throats in our sleep."

"No he won't." Kelsea said. "I asked him if he wanted me. He said more'n anything. Give me an hour with him, we'll have ourselves a new companion!"

"A new slave." He said, unironically. She laughed like he was joking. "He's a Briar Dog, Kelsea. If he ever gets free he'll lead those murderers straight to us."

"Not if he runs away with us." She said, smiling as her hand reached beneath the seam of his pants to grab his bare ass. She pushed against him like a body mold. "Then they'll think he turned cloak and joined up with us. They'll hate him as much as you or me, then!"

"That... could work." He said haltingly. "Derion's a sore fuck; he'd be the type to believe Carl ran off. The man doesn't forgive easy." Roland sighed, his hand reaching behind Kelsea's bum and grabbing her navel from the rear, his fingers sliding across the fabric on her crotch. She jumped at the sensation. "Fuck me, I'm doing this for you, Kelsea."

"I know you are." She said, her hand removing itself from her pants and gripping the outline of his erection as they walked. "-And I'm doing it for this."

They were out of the jail and gone from the city by the time the sun was rising in the far distance of the sky. They took the northern gate, heading along the mountain road towards the Magelands, away from the madness of the past day into the unknown of the future. They went as far as they deemed a safe distance before setting off to the side of the path, in a thick grove that hugged the high road like a blanket on one side. The enthralled Carl was left to set up camp. Kelsea had other plans for Roland.

"I saved you." She said, laughing as she held him against a tree. Her smile was triumphant, proud, as though she'd somehow gotten one over on him. She squeezed her breasts together with her shoulders, hunching them so they squashed and displayed her cleavage. "You'd still be in that cell if it wasn't for these bouncing beauties." She stripped him of clothing as she spoke, her body hovering close to his person but refusing to outright touch him. Roland's heart was in his throat.

"You're right." He said, his hands trailing along her back and undoing her lacing. "You don't owe me a damn thing anymore." She had him shirtless, stepping into his arms like he was a cloak of masculinity to wear over herself. "You can leave whenever you want."

"No." She said, kissing the underside of his chin as she leaned forward, standing on tip-toes to match his height. Her lips were pressing, appealing to him like a siren's call as she landed a layer of pecks upon his face. She reached up, draping her arms around his neck as she hung upon him. "I don't want to leave, Roland."

"Gods, Kelsea." He groaned, her teeth biting against his neck as she planted a loving touch upon him. His hands reached down and gripped her by the back of her thighs, lifting her effortlessly into his arms as she straddled him, her crotch grinding against his rock-hard erection as she continued to attend to his person. "Why do I..." His mouth snapped shut as he realized what he'd been about to say. She didn't seem to notice it.

"I want to do you, my red stallion." Her hips moved against him, the subtle bend of her body pressing him against the tree as her rear worked his body. "I want you to make me yours, your warm body." Her fingers clenched against him, her breath shuddering as she pulled tight and let out a deep moan. "Your tool." Roland set her down, kneeling as he peeled her pants off of her. Kelsea's legs stepped up out of them, her hiking boots still upon her feet. Roland's pants came off slower; he had to stand on one leg as he pulled at the offending leg, Kelsea helping him with a liberal application of bare hand jerking his cock. At last he removed it, pulling her against him from behind as they simulated a slow, passionate fuck, his cock sticking proudly from between her thighs as she clung to him. "Roland..." She whispered, seeming to be somewhere else when she said it. She leaned forward, her back arching as her ass aligned itself perfectly with the point of his cock.

Roland grasped her hips, feeling the interminable warmth of her skin as he pulled her body tight against him, driving down into her body as she gasped. Her arms went behind her, unthinkingly reaching out to entreaty him. Her fingers opened and closed, indicating her intent. He took her in his hands, his fingers threading through hers as she used his arms as support to thrust herself backwards. The deep gasp that came from her as her hips pressed against his own told him everything he needed to know about her thoughts on the subject. He began to thrust, his body humping like a piston in seconds against her wet crotch as the two practiced lovers began to jackhammer against one another, the wet sounds of sex squelching in the echoing wall of trees all around.

"Roland!" She moaned, her hips shifting up and down, back and forth, twerking and twitching at the feel of him taking her, their angle of penetration changing as the two competed in a near seesaw pattern to out-eroticise the other. Kelsea seemed to be getting the worse of it, her mouth opening into a wide, feminine circle of pleasure as she let out a cry. "Uh! Roland! Ahhhng!" She shook her head, her cropped hair shifting as she began to change. Her skin turned purple, her tail poked out from her body, and her horns grew along with her hair. She looked back at him, and he could see the red-rim of her eyes. He could feel the unholy pleasure of his flesh upon her. The angel had become a devil again.

But for some reason, it was better this way. Roland groaned, leaning forward and pulling her up against him, his arms wrapping around her and pressing her tight to his body. He continued to thrust, his lips against her slender neck as she bent it to let him plant a love bite against her neck. It was...

It was passionate. It was close, a connection Roland did not know how to respond to. When she looked at him, her eyes a mere inch or two away, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried instead to focus on the wonderful, feminine sensation of her vagina clenching tightly around his cock. When she lifted a hand to caress his cheek he blew his load, his mouth opening as he roared, shoving himself as deeply and as tightly against her as he could. He did not hold back, his body clenching as he began to fire streams of his white, hot love within her. She laughed as he did it, her voice simultaneously breathless and throaty. Kelsea sounded happy. Ecstatic even.

"A-awesome." She said shakily. "You're amazing, Roland." She whispered, kissing him as she turned her head. "I'm... I'm so... " She didn't finish her thought, her body clenching as her own orgasm rocked her body. She grasped him with her walls and he exploded again, their bodies mashing together for yet another dalliance. "You're so hot in me. Your cum is so warm. I just want to stay like this, with you inside me... forever."

That's what he wanted to. It was his greatest fear and his deepest dream. Roland grimaced and kept going, doing his best to drown out the thoughts that rampaged through his head as he continued to fuck the woman he couldn't get out of his head.

She smelled of sunflowers.