Chapter 43: A passionate night [1] [18+]
The hut was cramped, but warm. The fire outside cast a soft glow through the gaps in the bark roof, and the faint scent of sap and smoke hung in the air.
Inside, Oliver spread the boar hide bedding with a sigh. "Not the softest," he muttered, patting it.
Isolde stretched languidly beside him, arms over her head, her chest pushing against her snug battle garb. "It’ll do. Better than the ground."
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the crackling fire and their own breathing. Then Isolde stood.
Without a word, she reached down and began unfastening her clothes.
Oliver froze. "Wh-what are you doing?!"
"W-What the hell are you doing?!" Oliver blurted, face instantly red.
"What?" she tilted her head innocently, as though she hadn’t just stripped half-naked in front of him. "It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked already, is it? Why so flustered now?"
"T-That time was... different!" Oliver stammered. "Circumstances were different! Now it’s—now it’s just—!"
"Just what?" she teased, smirk curling her lips. She hooked her thumbs under the edge of her bra straps, tugging them slightly just to make him sweat. "These clothes are too tight to sleep in." She cupped her breasts with both hands, squeezing them together playfully. "Or are you getting flustered, master?
"D-Don’t call me that right now!" Oliver snapped, his voice cracking.
She cupped her breasts in both hands, deliberately pressing them together, making them bulge against the thin fabric. "Want to touch them?" she asked in a sultry tone.
Oliver’s eyes went wide, and for a second he really thought his nose was going to explode. He whipped around, throwing himself flat onto the bed with his face to the wall. "D-Don’t joke around like that!
Oliver lay stiffly on the bedding, every muscle tense as Isolde peeled off her outer clothes until only her undergarments hugged her frame. The firelight kissed her dark skin, highlighting the curves of her breasts and hips, the faint sheen of sweat on her smooth stomach.
She giggled at his actions, then slid down beside him, pressing her warm body against his back. He stiffened immediately.
"Y-you’re way too close."
"Why should I move away?" she purred, pressing her breasts firmly against him, her nipples hard through the thin fabric. "I’m enjoying this. Aren’t you, ma–st–er?" She dragged the word out in a mocking singsong.
Oliver gritted his teeth, trying not to react, but his body betrayed him. Heat pooled below his waist, and soon his shaft pressed hard against the fabric of his pants.
Isolde’s hand slid slowly down his chest, tracing over his stomach until it reached the bulge. She gave it a light squeeze through the cloth. "Mmm... looks like your body is a lot more honest than you, master."
Oliver trembled, his cock throbbing under her touch. "S-stop it, Isolde. If you keep going, I won’t be able to hold myself back..."
Her lips curled into a dangerous grin, voice dripping with temptation. "Then don’t hold back..."
She pressed her lips close to his ear, whispering the final words with deliberate heat. "...Show me."
~~~~
Oliver turned toward her, ready to snap again, but the sight stole every word from his mouth.
Isolde lay there, her dusky skin glowing faintly in the firelight, her breasts straining against thin fabric, eyes half-lidded and shimmering with hunger.
"You must be wondering..." she whispered, voice low, "...what kind of woman tries to seduce a man she’s known for only a day. You’re probably thinking I’m some kind of slut, aren’t you?"
Oliver swallowed hard. He didn’t answer—but his silence said enough.
Isolde gave a bitter little laugh at herself. "If only that were true... things would’ve been easier." Her smirk slipped, and for the first time, her face softened with something that looked almost... lonely. "You know, I was a princess. Which meant my family’s reputation was chained to me. No man was ever allowed near me before marriage—too dangerous, they said. Rumors could destroy dynasties."
Her gaze drifted toward the fire. "So I only had my friends. Girlfriends, who whispered to me about their boyfriends... the little things they did, the fun they had, the nights they spent together. I listened, smiled, pretended it didn’t bother me. But deep down... I envied them." She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "I waited. I thought marriage would give me all of that someday. And then..." Her eyes dimmed, "my nation fell. I was sealed away. And centuries passed."
Her hand curled into the bedding. "...I’ve never even been kissed. I’m a princess, yes. But also..." She gave a bitter smile. "...a centuries-old virgin."
The words hung heavy between them. For once, Oliver couldn’t think of a sarcastic retort.
Isolde shifted, pulling herself back slightly. "This—" she gestured vaguely between them, "—all of this must seem pathetic to you. I got carried away. If my behavior made you uncomfortable..." She turned her head away, her hair sliding across her shoulder like dark silk. "...then I’ll stop."
Something stirred in Oliver’s chest. Seeing her like that—not mocking, not arrogant, but vulnerable and distant—sparked an urge he couldn’t resist.
"Idiot," he muttered.
Before Isolde could react, he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers.
Her crimson eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, after a heartbeat of stunned stillness, her lips parted. Oliver’s tongue slipped inside, and hers met his—hesitant at first, then bold, twisting and wrestling against his with growing hunger.
The fire crackled. Their breaths mingled, hot and uneven.
The kiss deepened, sloppy and wet.
"Mnnnhh... slurp... smooch... mmphh..." Their tongues twisted and tangled, saliva stringing between their lips each time they broke apart only to crash back together again. Oliver’s hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.
Isolde let out a muffled moan into his mouth, "Nnnhhh~" her body trembling as if savoring something she had been denied for lifetimes.
When they finally pulled apart for air, a silver string of spit stretched between their lips. Both panted heavily, their chests rising and falling.
"Hahh... so this is what it feels like..." Isolde whispered, dazed, her crimson eyes clouded with heat. She bit her lower lip, then smirked faintly. "...kiss me more, master."
Oliver didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed her down against the bedding, capturing her lips again.
Smooch... slrp... chu... chu... The sounds echoed in the small hut, growing wetter, messier, more desperate. Isolde wrapped her arms around his neck, nails digging lightly into his back, dragging him closer as though she feared he’d pull away.
Her thighs shifted, brushing against his hips, and she gasped when she felt his hardness press against her. "Hahh~ O-Oli..."
"Damn it..." Oliver groaned, lips moving down her jaw to her neck. He left open-mouthed kisses there, each one wet and noisy. "Sluurp... chu... mnnn..."
Isolde arched her back, her breasts pushing into his chest. Her voice trembled with a mixture of embarrassment and need. "My... first kiss... and now this... hahh~ you’re not stopping, are you?"
Oliver growled low against her collarbone, "You’re the one who started it..."
She giggled breathlessly between moans, "Fufu... guilty... but don’t you dare hold back now."
Her teasing tone melted into another moan when Oliver’s lips captured hers again, their tongues battling, "Mmmnnphhh—slrp—chu... chuuchhh..." as their bodies pressed tighter, the heat between them unbearable.
Oliver’s hands, once hesitant, began to explore her body. His palms slid over her sides, down to her hips, then up again, until finally—he cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her undergarment.
Isolde gasped, her body jolting at the touch. "Haaahhh! O-Oliver...!"
He kneaded them firmly, thumbs brushing across her nipples, already stiff and pushing through the cloth.
Her voice was a sweet melody of moans and gasps. "Nnnhhh~! Don’t... ahhh~ they’re so sensitive... mmmhhhnn—"
Her dark skin glistened with sweat under the firelight as she arched into his touch, offering herself willingly.
Oliver’s lips trailed lower, sucking marks into the hollow of her throat before pulling down the fabric covering her chest. Her full, dark breasts spilled free, her nipples hard and begging for attention.
Oliver didn’t waste time. He took one into his mouth.
Sluuuurp... mmmhhnnn... suckk... schlk...
"Ahhhhnnnn! N-no, don’t suck them like that—!" Isolde’s protest melted into a cry as his tongue flicked her nipple, circling it before pulling it between his lips. He sucked greedily, biting lightly, then tugging until she shivered.
Her hands shot up to hold his head against her chest. "Hahhh~! Y-you’re trying to milk me, aren’t you?! Oohhh gods—mnnhhhh—!"
Oliver groaned against her flesh, switching to the other breast, sucking even harder. Drool ran down her skin as he latched onto her nipple, pulling it with obscene wet sounds.
Schlk... slrrrp... glrk... chuup...
Isolde’s toes curled as pleasure surged through her body, her pussy dripping against her panties. "Nnnnhhh~! Yes...! Ahhh, master... it feels so good... I never thought—hahhh~—nipples could feel like this—!"