Thread: Man Witch [Goody + Prince]

They were still dancing. He could feel it. Not that he expected her to say anything or admit anything right at that moment - his detumescing member was still plugging her up, warm cum, slippery and messy coating the helmet after all. But he wondered when he'd get the conversation from her and it made him hesitate in responding to her inquiry about bed. Because he wanted her there. Of course he fucking did. After the heated fun, wrestling across the dirty training grounds, owning her inside and out, being mounted and ridden by her as well, as if no time had passed between them at all, his soul be damned if he even considered for a moment the prospect of sleeping alone. He just wished more had changed. And the longer she went without the words being articulated, the more he dreaded that he'd misread her. On the one hand...who gave a shit? She'd come home, to him, having journeyed out in the world, finding she preferred her independence, yet missing him, coming back to do her duty, she'd given him another blissful night to remember her by. Wasn't it enough that he could be here for her, to give her what she needed, as he always did? Then, on the other, that felt rather pathetic and desperate to him. He'd put his life on hold. Not directly for her but he'd be lying to himself to say that he didn't reject the occasional witch graduate who came down from the academy to choose him, with the hope that Alluna would see sense out there and come back to retrieve him. He'd expected her to find someone. If not a guardian, then at least a companion. If she hadn't come back to bond with him, and they were just playing, having a good time for old times sake... He wanted to want this. If not simply because it was pouty and passive-aggressive for him to take a stand now, after they'd fucked. Then moreso because it was in his nature to care for her. She might not need a guardian. Maybe all she needed was a good fucking and someone to look after her while she trained this male witch. Was he really so wrapped up in ego that he couldn't give that to her? Besides, if he knew her at all, and if she did intend to call on him, then she was likely tormented with the struggle to make the right word noises at him about it. It took only a second for him to come to terms, giving her a contented curve of his lips, an indulgent expression, kissing her shoulder in acquiescence. Mine. Yes, he murmured in agreement, grunting softly as he pulled back, his softening length still half-masting, yet spent and placated. Sitting back on his haunches, he took a moment to watch as his thick, milky white cum dripped lazily from her pink, gorgeous slit, pride puffing up his chest over the delicious sight. His cock twitched in his lap and he likely could have gotten hard again, but insted of feeding it, he smirked lazily and rose to his feet, offering her his hand to help her up. His private quarters were luxurious and cozy. Low ceilings, ornate furniture swallowing floor space, giving everything a very warm, intimate feel. The small sitting room that the door opened into held a hulking desk with two curved back, black-stained wooden chairs in front of it. There was also off to the side, two small round tables, one holding a lamp, beside a pair of rich, yet aged fabric chairs with animal claw legs on a simple rug with Valheru designs upon it. This was where he met with trainees privately or where he sat to eat alone when he needed to get away. A tall book case was up against one stone wall and a tapestry was hung from another, depicting a recreation of a very well known painting that hung in the assembly hall for the witches. It depicted a witch battling a beast-like monster of menacing visage, accompanied by demonic goblin entities swarming the path. While the witch shot blue light spilling from her hands, the guardian at her back faced the smaller enemies, fierce, brave, sword sharp and true. Occasionally, when Uther needed to reprimand a trainee or talk the more promising ones out of abandoning training, he liked them to see that tapestry. The witches got to see the painting whenever they gathered for assemblies in their great hall, but it was a nice reminder of the ideal the men were expected to hold in their hearts and visualize in their minds to reassert focus and remember why they were here. A door beyond the desk led into his bedroom, an already small room dwarfed by a four poster bed, sheets a dark maroon color. The rug in here and the painting on the wall held depictions and designs from his home nation, Ferrin. He didn't come from a Lord's family but he'd lived in the city and he took pride in his people and his heritage. Whenever he heard news from them, of government movement and treaties with other nations, he always paid it mind, even if his loyalties now focused mainly on Valheru and whatever witch might eventually call him to the bond. Strangely enough, Ferrin always had a queen leading the government. Off the side of the bedroom a door led to a very Spartan washroom with an indoor plumbing showerhead and drain in the floor. No latrine throne because they often smelled, no matter where they were placed, and there was a communal group of doors outside the barracks, but a clean chamber pot sat underneath his bed. They took turns in the shower, clean and lightly damp, climbing into bed together. They didn't sleep for another hour or two, staying up late into the night catching up. Truly, this was where the time and distance disappeared, Uther letting the walls down for her, laughing with her, teasing her, and eating up stories of her adventures and exploits. Her gifts were particularly compelling and he loved to hear about how easily her touch brought her foes down. He too regaled her with tales of training, briefly getting stuck with a trainer, Thom, who shouldn't have been promoted, weak and spineless, spreading his toxicity and insecurities onto his student. What was worse, because he'd never been bonded, when Thom's trainee started getting attention to one of the witches in her senior year, Thom had sabotaged the trainee's connection with her, grinding him with long drilling schedules that not only kept him from any free time but also exhausted the man to almost breaking. When that hadn't seemed to work, Thom had started spreading unflattering rumors about the trainee. Finally, Uther was confided in by the training guardian, desperate for interference but too honorable to report his trainer for the gross misconduct. It had been a good day to send Thom on his way, having totally undone all of his own training by being a petty asshole. It was a nice, juicy bit of drama to share with her, as was the witch, Lyra, who'd been determined to have Uther, thinking him needing a firm hand meant he wanted to be abused and bullied into bed. Uther joked with Alluna that one of the deeper stab wounds in his abdomen had been from an overzealous Lyra getting hot under the collar when he stoutly rejected her. He did comment breezily that no doubt, Lyra was the type of woman who would have brought a knife out if she thought he might be convinced with a bit of poking. When sleep did finally find them, Uther cradled her against him, hardened feet rubbing softly at her elegant, muscular calves under covers, fingers stroking her creamy shoulders and back as his massive chest rose and fell with deep, slumbering breaths. Pre-dawn morning, Uther was actually roused by Alluna's lips wrapped around him. Already hard and ready, he hummed delightedly as she remembered how he liked it, lipping at the loose skin covering his reddened head, teasing him before taking him all the way in, breath from her nostrils tickling his pubes as she swallowed on him, choking groans ripping from his throat in passionate desire. He took her again in the safety and comfort of the bed, sating them both before the breakfast bells had tolled. Laying on his stomach, he let her ease the tight knots in his back and shoulders, melting into the bed under her hard and probing touch, smoothing him out like a hot iron. Sitting up as she dressed, Uther reached for her, halting her progress to get back into her robes, pulling her close to stand between his thighs. Kissing her lavender fingers, nuzzling her knuckles, he looked at her with tender longing. I have to do sorting today and I'm taking on that female trainee, he said in low, mellow tones. And I'm sure you'll be working late as well. Have lunch with me tomorrow. Show me how you feed yourself, he teased her. If I don't see you before bells toll for evening studies, I'll hunt you down, haul you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and shove a meal into you. Like old times.