The Song of Roland Ch. 11

The sound of ringing metal and clashing steel sang out in the crisp morning air of the alpine forest. Roland grimaced and parried, batting aside Kelsea's swipe with the toothed head of her Man-Catcher, smacking it out of the way with the flat of his blade. She stumbled, having put all of her weight into the attack. He stepped smoothly into her guard, pointing his blade tip at her neck as he shook his head disdainfully.

"Sloppy." He grunted. "Again." He stepped back and resumed his stance.

She trailed to his right, her feet stepping in short bursts as she attempted to build momentum in her legs. She swept her staff around to thrust at his face, and he trapped it with his sword, the metal scraping along the staff as it caught against the head of the weapon. Roland ducked beneath her, pulling his weapon free and blocking a second attack she attempted to smack him with, his head jumping to the right as she skimmed by his face.

Growling, the purple-skinned woman hunched her back, her body coiling like a panther as she lashed out wildly. The top of the catcher came whistling down in an overhead smash, heedless of Roland's safety. It didn't matter much though, for the Mercenary merely danced back from the strike, stepping down upon the pole hard with his foot and taking Kelsea to the ground alongside the weapon she gripped so tightly. She looked up at him with barely suppressed frustration in her eyes. "You little-" She said, stopping to pick herself up off the ground. He stepped back, his body charged with the act of movement.

"You need to step, lead with your toes." Roland gestured, pointing like a lecturing teacher at her feet using the tip of his sword. "You keep trying to strike flat-footed. I can catch you off balance every time. Your footwork is more important than your swing, for now."

Kelsea's red-rimmed eyes trailed across his body like a predator viewing prey. She flashed her sharp incisors and stepped forward, jabbing the head of the weapon at his face. Roland twisted his shoulder and stepped around it, gripping the staff by the hand and yanking it from her grasp. Tossing aside the sultry thing, Roland advanced upon her again. She scowled at him, glaring at the tool lying on the leaf-strewn ground across from them. Her arm lifted to point at it, her tail moving behind her like a whip. "Pick that up." She said. It was a command. "Give it to me."

"No." He replied, pointing the blade at her neck again. "You knock the sword from my hand, I'll pick up whatever you want me to. You chose the weapon, now you've gotta learn its ins and outs." The look she gave him as she bent down to retrieve the Man-Catcher could have melted stone. Secretly Roland was glad they were just fighting. Had a more carnal intent been present, he doubted he'd be able to walk afterwards.

They'd been on the mountain road for days now, the trail narrowing sharply as they ascended farther into the peaks of the Auroch Mountains. Carl Hale had been an invaluable, if nonverbal asset in their trek, scouting the path ahead, hunting game in the mornings and making camp for them in the evenings. It was unnerving just how completely under her spell he was; all it had taken was a few words and a tender shagging. Despite his own misgivings, Roland was glad for the additional company. During one of Carl's longer sojourns into the wilds, Kelsea and Roland had taken the opportunity to practice fighting.

"You've got the longer reach. Use it." Roland said, circling her as she held the weapon in front of her, like a thrusting spear at a sixty degree angle from herself. It stuck outward, the biting spikes on the inside promising severe pain should she actually land a good grab on one of his limbs. She wouldn't though; she was too slow for him. As if to underscore the point he reached forward with his sword tip, drawing her out by dangling his blade like a hooked worm for a fish. She took the bait, swiping forward in an attempt to catch his weapon in the jaws of the Man-Catcher. Roland let her, the loud sound of scraping steel grating his ears. Gripping the now-entrapped hilt of his sword with both hands, he twisted sharply in the opposite direction, pulling her own weapon out of her grasp. Dropping the sword, he promptly pulled his long knife free, stepping yet again within her guard and planting it near her neck.

"This is stupid." She said, huffing as he kept the blade at her throat. The normally boastful Succubus seemed ill at ease practicing the rigors of combat. She'd gotten so flustered she'd even reverted to her more bestial appearance. "I can't fight against someone like you! You've been doing this for years!"

"Nine years. And two years as a guard a'fore that." He replied, "All the better to train you, yeah? You think every fool you fight from now on will be a green boy with no skill?" His red mane of hair trickled down his head as he stepped back and casually stretched. "You can't get through yer life just by having a mystical cunt. One day it's going to be your own strength and skill against another's, and you'll have to make do."

She huffed, holding up her feminine bicep and flexing. "I'll do what I did to the Briar Dogs back at the tavern."

Roland spat on the ground, unimpressed. "You caught 'em off guard, and in a public place. They weren't gonna draw blades till well into the fight. Had one more of 'em been there someone would have ended up dead." He cracked his neck, "What are you going to do next time?"

She looked angry at his casual indifference to her skill. "I'll melt them with magic! What does it matter, Roland? We should just stop."

Still he pressed her. "-And what happens when that doesn't work? Say it's a ghost, or a - Gods forbid - a demon tryin' to carve out a piece of succulent Succubus? D'you want a repeat of the Imps?"

Kelsea looked at him for a moment, her eyes studying him in the mid-morning light. Without warning she threw herself against him, her body moving preternaturally fast as she grabbed him by the wrists and tackled him to the ground, using her smaller size to angle herself atop the large man's chest. Roland was caught off guard at the strength displayed, his body smacking against the ground as his knife clattered out away from them. He struggled in her grasp, astonished at the easy way she'd managed to dominate him.

"You've..." He grumbled, struggling in vain against her seemingly weaker body. She was like a stone statue held above him. "You've been holding back."

She laughed, leaning down to roughly kiss his face before pulling back, grinning at how easily she'd pinned him. His hands felt like they were held by steel manacles against the ground. She didn't seem to be even struggling to hold him. "Only when you make me mad, Roland."

"Would that I'd have done that sooner, I'd have been rid of you long ago." He replied, his hands opening in a sign of surrender. "Let me up."

"Not till you learn to do as I say." She said, her smile teasing. "Pick up my weapon."

"No, I won't." He said. "You didn't disarm me. Try that little leaping bit when I've got a sword in my grasp and then maybe we can talk."

He saw something shift in her eyes."Yes. You will." She replied, her voice lower. Kelsea's mouth was no longer smiling. Roland felt a sudden swell of feeling rise up within him. Despite the knowledge of what she was doing he began to harden in his trousers. "Get it for me, Roland."

"Kelsea-" He said, his body tensing as he heard that distinctive sing-song sound enter her voice. He felt his own voice become hoarse, "Stop it. I'm not Carl."

"Why should I?" She said, her tongue slithering out from her mouth and licking along the line of his lips. "Are you jealous of Carl? He's a good boy..." She said, her voice deepening as she leaned just slightly forward, draping her body a mere hair's breadth from his own. She was so warm. "Don't you also want to be... good? For me?"

"I can't..." He murmured, his face softening as he fell into those red, gazing eyes. His body began to go slack. Kelsea's eyes were lidded, her voice a gentle purr on the edge of his sanity. "Don't..."

"Shh." She said, her breath tickling upon his face. She sounded so firm, so controlling. "You know you want to do it. Just walk over there, and..."

Roland squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. "Get off of me!" He roared.

Kelsea's eyes blinked, as if realizing where she was. "W-" She started, her hands pulling back from his wrists as she sat up. Momentarily free, Roland roughly gripped her by the waist and tossed her off him, her bum hitting the ground to his left as he rolled to his hands and knees. His body took an almost quadruped, bestial stance, his eyes wide and wild. The mercenary panted, his face burning as he felt a raging need build within his body. He wanted to fuck her, he wanted to mate with her so badly. He let out an angry shout and punched the ground, heedless of the sharp bits of rock that stuck into his knuckles. Kelsea watched him, an inscrutable expression on her face as she saw his inner conflict play out before her eyes. She lifted a hand, her fingers trembling as she extended it towards him.

"Roland-" She started, but he punched the ground again, feeling something pop in his hand but ignoring the pain completely. Her hand dropped away.

"Fuck!" He yelled, his body shaking. He followed this act with a headbutt to the ground, the flash of pain and blinding vision doing little to remove the aching desire in his loins. "Fuck!" A hunk of dead leaf and twigs caught in the mane of his hair, a small rock fell from his forehead where it had momentarily dented the skin. His head was ringing from the pain; he ignored it. Roland would do anything, give anything to be free from this feeling. This is the price, The cold, utterly rational part of his brain told him,This is what you reap when you frolic with devilry. It was a shame that the logical part of his mind was nary a whisper at this point.

Kelsea crawled forward on hands and knees towards him. Roland jerked back like he'd been shocked with electricity. The confused look on her face was almost worse than the hungry one she'd been wearing moments before. His instinctive arousal was telling him to give in, to assuage her doubts by indulging in her sweet honeypot... his logic was telling him to run. He did neither, his blue orbs looking up into hers as she gazed back at him.

"I'm..." She said, her voice almost pleading. "I-I shouldn't have done that; forgive me."

He let out a wordless snarl; his injured hand curled into a painful fist. The suffering was bracing, like a shock of lucidity to his increasingly fogged mind."Nothing to forgive." Roland said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "You are... what you are." He wheezed.

"...Did that hurt?" She asked, sitting back on her knees, her hands in her lap. The purple creature looked helpless, as though everything that had just happened had somehow rendered her impotent. He shook his head, letting out a gruff expulsion of breath.

"What do you think?" He said.

Kelsea's cheek twitched. "I meant punching the ground." Roland's head snapped up, his eyes flashing as his nostrils flared.

"What do you think?" He said. Her eyes fell, her tail ceased moving and dropped limply to the forest floor. Kelsea opened her mouth to speak, but words did not come out. She closed it again as a silence fell between them. Roland tried to catch his breath and steady his beating heart. He let out a shuddering sigh, his voice rising in pitch for a single, horrible moment as he let slip a sign of his closely-guarded emotions. "Haah!" He whispered, his shoulders shaking. He closed his eyes, forced himself to even his breathing, and slowly found his wits. When he opened his eyes he saw Kelsea staring at the ground, her shoulders sagging.

"What should I do, Roland?" She asked, "I don't... tell me what I can do to make it better. I-I'll-"

Leave. He thought, a fading echo in his mind as he saw her struggle to find some way to make it up to him. "Stay." He said. He held out his injured hand, and she leapt to it, crawling forward like an eager supplicant on her hands and knees. She began to kiss the injured limb, her hands cupping it like some priceless artifact as she held it to her cheek.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn't- I'm sorry!" She lathered it in love, her tongue rolling across the hand and coating it in her corrupting saliva. Roland watched impassively as she continued to pull him deeper down the pit he no longer knew how to escape from. She kissed it, the pain disappearing as she looked chastely at him and whispered sweet nothings. Slowly, the Mercenary put a second hand to her face. She trembled in his touch. "Roland," She whispered, she sounded almost scared. "...what am I supposed to do?"

He didn't have an answer for her. He merely shook his head and put her head against his chest. "Nothing, Kelsea." He said, saying it like the mere presence of her name could banish the thing she'd nearly allowed to emerge. He looked down at her, her eyes staring meekly up at his as he stroked her cheek. Roland leaned his lips against hers, the Succubus accepting his touch instead of pressing forward in response. She'd never done that with him before.

It was strange to simply kiss her, and not be taken in return. He wondered idly if this was what it might have been like, had he wooed her before her transformation. She was soft, her lips slightly parted as she tilted her head back and let him come to her. His hands reached around to circle her back, pulling her body against him. The heat of her was so strong that he began to sweat. "I'm such a bloody fool." He whispered. She let out a low moan.

Their hands moved like flowing water, stripping each other of clothing in a slow quest to create a soft enough bed to lay on. Tossing aside her shirt, Roland took her by the shoulders and pressed her to the ground, mirroring the process of her own triumphant pinning by holding her in place. Kelsea's fingers peeled his pants off, exposing his sex to the air. Her silky hair fell about her head like a blanket, her face wore a demure expression. She lifted a hand, running the tips of her fingers up along the line of his sternum and chest. It took a supreme effort for her to not simply start groping him.

He peeled her pants off of her, her demonic tail whapping against his body and curling around his waist, keeping him close. Her legs stretched to the sky, allowing him to pull them vertically from her body. Her vagina revealed itself when she spread her legs, her knees bending to show outright submission. It was strange to see her like this. Naked, Roland leaned down into her, pressing the weight of his own body against the purple breasts and slim stomach. One hand circled one of the globes, his fingers kneading at her mound as he let his lips play across her face.

"Roland..." She whispered again. He could never get used to the way she said it: that passionate plea just on the edge of breathlessness. His thick penis was pressed between them, his hips pumping ever so slightly as her hands moved across his back. One particularly strong movement made her gasp, her own hips leaning back as if to accept a strong thrust. The red-maned mercenary felt her nails dig into his back. "Hm!" She said, his lips silencing whatever she'd been about to say.

Roland pulled back, standing on his knees before her as he aligned himself against her folds. The Succubus merely watched him, her eyes on his face instead of his crotch, where it usually went at the point of penetration. As he sank inside her gaze flicked down, her mouth opening as she let out a pleasured cry. "Hoooh!" She moaned, her knees subconsciously spreading further and lifting to either side of her chest. Her hands went around the back of her thighs, helping to further pull herself open for his pleasure. It was the closest thing Roland had ever seen to an act of contrition during sex.

He shifted himself forward, moving deeper into her snatch as he began to fuck her tenderly. Roland felt her weight beneath him, he saw the way her breasts shifted and jiggled with each thrust. Her body seemed to almost tense as he hilted himself within her, Kelsea's red-rimmed eyes widening as she seemed to take the true measure of him once he was fully inside. It was like she was learning about him, coming to understand him, simply through the way he made love to her.

And it was 'making love.' Despite Roland's fervent attempt to avoid the thought, it came back into his mind as he cradled the back of her head with his large hands. The way she stared at him, twisted with every press of his cock against her womanhood, it spoke of affection. He didn't want it, that whisper in his mind begged him to ignore it, or pull out. He couldn't; her breath was too beautiful, her open mouth a holy sieve of salaciousness whose slippery contents Roland could not help but try to taste. He began to plant himself deeper, lingering within her hot box as he slowed his thrusts, reluctant to leave the simple comfort of her steaming innards.

"Hmmm!" She groaned, pulling his head against her shoulder as she ran her fingers through his thick hair. "Oh Gods! Roland, don't stop! Please!" He couldn't if he wanted to. His rear lifted and lowered, pulling himself free from her wet hole before dropping back into it as he settled into a rough rhythm often punctuated by the slapping of his balls against her rear. Kelsea's fingers clenched his scalp through the red mane of his head. He felt her insides quiver, and a spray of girlish fluids came out of her, coating his hips. "Bite me, Roland... " She muttered, sounding pained as she said it, "Show me how I'm your bad girl!"

He sank his teeth into her neck, biting hard enough to cause her to gasp yet again, her back arching her stomach up against his abs as she underwent a full-body orgasm. Her eyelids fluttered, her mouth opening wide as she let out a pleasured scream into the air. Her tail was now firmly adding to his thrusts, pulling him tight by the waist and only reluctantly slackening as he removed his veiny and rock-hard erection from her insides. Her legs went vertical, the purple creature's toes curling as she angled herself for maximum penetration. The strange thought crossed Roland's mind as she realized that her filled slit was probably the most exposed thing on her lower body at this angle, especially with him inside of her.

"I'm a bad girl..." She whispered in his ear, leaning down to kiss the side of his head. "Aahn! Gods, punish me." Roland lifted his head, matching her eyes as she looked up at him, the mark of his love bite still on her neck. She gazed back at him, her half-lidded eyes struggling to meet his gaze. Slowly, continuing to thrust hard against her flank, Roland shook his head.

"No." He said, his voice heavy as he began to pick up the pace, his body mashing tight against her own as she began to lustfully cry out. "I can't. I won't."

"Please?" Her voice was high pitched, her head burying in her hair as she looked away and bit her lip. Roland kissed her cheek, feeling his prostate tighten as he crossed the threshold of ejaculation, his hips pistoning at faster and faster intervals as he drove down as deeply as he could. At last he hilted himself at the apex of his thrust, the smashing of his hips against hers causing a loud sound of flesh connecting with wet flesh in the forest air. Kelsea let out a yell as Roland groaned and grunted and came. His jism boiled from his nuts like concentrated sensation as he pressed down deep into her and began to empty himself.