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Lyna presses her back to the tree, breathing hard as she listens for footsteps behind her. Her heartbeat hammers in her chest at what feels like twice its normal speed. Above, twilight is beginning to come over the trees, as the shadows on the ground grow long in the setting sun.
But blessed night won’t hide her, she thinks, from the foe now on her trail; this is a different kind of enemy than anything she has faced in the many years she has been captain of the guard. And in these days of peace since the last real battle her men had fought, she fears, she has been getting soft. Complacent. She puts the rest of the guard through their paces, yes, as she always does – but her own skills have lost their edge, and that won’t do.
Which is, of course, exactly why she must hone them this way.
It had started as nothing more than simple sparring. The Warrior of Darkness had mentioned, almost casually, that the barmaid at the Wandering Stairs once knew her way around a sword, and Lyna had approached almost as casually to suggest that they meet, in her off-hours, to keep their fighting skills sharp as sparring partners.
And oh, what a sparring partner Cyella had turned out to be – though she claimed to be rusty, she was quick on her feet and good with her weapon, and eager, it seemed, to be on the field of battle again. Yes, perhaps Lyna had defeated her rather easily their first few matches, but by the fourth she was putting up a good fight, and by the seventh she had Lyna disarmed and pinned against the wall before Lyna quite knew what was happening.
Since then they’ve been practicing with each other every day, and Lyna has learned the true story in bits and pieces – even Cyella’s role in bringing the Flood of Light to Norvrandt.
“You would be forgiven,” Cyella had said, with a wry smile, “for not wanting the Shadowkeeper as a sparring partner.”
“If the Warrior of Darkness does not see fit to cut you down,” Lyna had replied, “then who am I to question her judgment?”
And, in fact, learning Cyella’s true identity – and true abilities – had given her a new idea for their sparring sessions.
Which leads to now – Lyna, unarmed except for a dagger, hiding behind a tree, listening for the sound of the Shadowkeeper’s footsteps on the ground or her heavy breathing nearby. She has been running from one hiding place to the next, evading the snapping jaws of her pursuer sometimes by only a hair, stopping only to catch her breath and reassess her situation, for half a bell. Their chase had started near the Crystarium, but they’re now deep in the forests of Lakeland, and as night descends over the trees it will only become more difficult for Lyna to stay ahead. After all, darkness is the Shadowkeeper’s element, and what’s more she need not see where Lyna is hiding if she can smell her.
Still, Lyna is not one to give up easily, and she is not ready to surrender just yet, so once she’s taken a moment to catch her breath she sets off running again, light-footed even on the rugged ground, trying to put as much distance as she can between herself and the wolf on her heels.
She’s sprinting towards a copse of slender trees when she hears it: a low growl coming from the shadows beyond that makes her draw up short, her heart pounding. Shadowkeeper has cut her off.
Her breath catches in her throat, and she whirls around to run the other way, but she knows she’s in trouble now, and she’s nearly at her limit already. Behind her, she can hear the hammering of the wolf’s massive footsteps upon the ground, the crackle of the underbrush as she crashes through it, no longer stalking her from the shadows but giving chase in earnest.
Lyna ducks her head and runs at her fastest pace, darting and weaving between the trees in the hopes that she might shake Shadowkeeper off for long enough to make a getaway into the darkness. But she’s at a disadvantage now, with night shrouding the wood in darkness her eyes can barely penetrate, and as she whips herself around the trunk of a broad tree her footing falters — for just too long for her to recover with the huge wolf bearing down upon her. The Shadowkeeper pounces, and she goes sprawling to the ground as its weight falls in a heavy blow on her shoulders.
She hits the ground on her shoulder and rolls over, reaching for her knife on instinct as she skids on her back in the dirt. One great paw plants itself firmly in the center of her chest, claws pressed into the leather of her tunic, not deep enough to cut but certainly deep enough to make her heart skip a beat. Above her, the Shadowkeeper growls, the many teeth of its distorted faces gleaming and slick with saliva.
Then, suddenly, the wolf melts away and it’s Cyella on top of her instead, pinning her down with one hand on her chest, her teeth still bared in a snarl. She’s panting nearly as hard as Lyna is, her face flushed with exertion and her pupils blown wide with — excitement? Hunger? Lyna isn’t sure, and isn’t certain she could tell the difference. Her heart hammers hard in her chest.
“That was…” Cyella says between uneven breaths, “a good chase, little rabbit.” She pushes herself upright, still staring down at Lyna with that intense gaze as she straddles her hips.
Lyna feels a chill go down her spine. “And what will the wolf do with me,” she asks quietly, “now that she’s caught me?”
Cyella’s eyes widen, and it’s hard to tell in the darkness, but Lyna thinks the hint of a blush might be creeping into her cheeks. “If I was of the mind to, I could devour a morsel like you,” she says in a low voice, and shows her teeth again as she runs her tongue over her lips. Perhaps it’s just a trick of the light, but her canines look incredibly sharp — sharper than those of any ordinary elf, to be sure.
Lyna raises an eyebrow. “If you were of the mind?” she echoes. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your appetite now?”
If Cyella wasn’t blushing before, she certainly does when Lyna shifts her hips to grind up against her, but she doesn’t look away. “And what if I am hungry?” she asks, so low her voice is almost a growl. “If I do still have a taste for your flesh?”
She shifts as she says it to put one knee between Lyna’s thighs, and Lyna swallows hard, suddenly very glad they’d both forgone heavier armor for light tunics and leggings.
“It seems to me it’s up to the hunter what she does with her prey,” she says when she finds her voice, and Cyella grins so that her teeth shine white in the moonlight.
It’s not the first time they’ve played this game, and until now Lyna has hoped her arousal had not been obvious, ashamed to admit how good it makes her feel to be chased down and pinned to the ground by a beautiful woman with strength enough to match her own. But now that it becomes obvious Cyella enjoys the thrill of the chase in much the same way, she finds herself much less embarrassed and perhaps even more aroused.
When Cyella leans in to kiss her, it’s fierce and hot and hungry, and her teeth catch at Lyna’s lower lip in a love bite that makes Lyna moan. She’s still pinned down beneath her, Cyella’s hands resting firmly on her shoulders now and holding her against the ground. Lyna squirms, as if trying to escape, but when Cyella’s grip loosens she makes no effort to leave and pulls her closer instead.
As she grinds up against Cyella’s thigh, Lyna can feel Cyella’s cock growing hard beneath her leggings. She adjusts her pose to let Cyella rub against her leg in turn, which she does eagerly as she nips at Lyna’s jaw. Lyna tips back her head to bare her throat, heat washing over her as Cyella’s teeth scrape across her bare skin.
Cyella’s hands fumble blindly to find the edge of Lyna’s tunic, pulling it up as she continues to alternate between kissing her neck and nibbling at it. When she sits up to pull it free, Lyna shrugs it off easily, exposing her breasts to the moonlight; Cyella quickly strips off her own tunic as well.
“You are – so beautiful,” Lyna pants out, still grinding against Cyella’s thigh through her leggings, which are becoming damp from her arousal. Cyella flushes deeply and buries her face in the side of Lyna’s neck again to hide it, but Lyna can feel the heat in her cheeks as she continues tracing a line of bruises down her throat with her teeth.
With Cyella’s mouth otherwise occupied, her hushed moans muffled in the curve of Lyna’s neck, it falls to Lyna to fill the silence, and she does so gladly, crying out in earnest as Cyella presses her leg more firmly between Lyna’s thighs. Her slender fingers seek out the waistband of Cyella’s leggings and tug them down, freeing her erection; Cyella sits up again to help pull them off, and Lyna’s eyes go wide as she gets a good look at just how well-endowed the elven woman is.
She slips out of her own leggings and kicks them aside, spreading her legs wide and lifting her hips. Cyella makes a low sound like a growl in the back of her throat and settles onto her knees again, between Lyna’s open thighs. One hand pins Lyna’s shoulder to the ground again while the other parts her lips, and Lyna gasps as two fingers press into her.
Cyella likes to play rough when they spar, and this is no different; she fucks Lyna hard and fast, first with two fingers and then with three, stretching her open as she keens and moans until she’s slick and wet and ready to take the girth of Cyella’s hard cock.
“I should warn you,” Cyella murmurs in a husky voice, “it’ll swell when I come. If you’d rather I didn’t do it inside you…”
“I do not mind,” Lyna pants out between ragged breaths. “I am yours to claim.”
She lets out a high, shuddering whimper as Cyella pushes inside of her, filling her up. It feels incredible, her muscles stretching until they ache to accommodate the elven woman’s length, Cyella’s head buried deep inside her against the inner walls of her cunt. For a moment, neither of them moves, both taking their time to adjust to the feeling, even as Lyna struggles to keep her hips from jerking.
Just as she’s beginning to acclimate to the intense feeling of fullness below her belly, Cyella begins to move, pulling out slowly and then pressing back in. As she falls into a steady rhythm, Lyna rolls her hips to meet her with each thrust, clutching at her shoulder with one hand to pull her close. Cyella leans in to press a fierce kiss to her lips, and Lyna moans.
“How I’ve wanted you,” Cyella breathes against her mouth, her nails digging into Lyna’s shoulder as she pressed her into the ground beneath them. “All these times I’ve hunted you down through the forest, I have longed to take you like this. My conquest. My prey.”
Lyna trembles all over, her muscles fluttering, clenching tight around Cyella’s cock. “Please,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “Please.”
“I want you like a creature starving,” Cyella tells her. The low growl in her voice makes Lyna feel like her bones have turned to water. “The scent of you drives me mad.” She kisses her again, tongue pushing past her lips to explore the cavity of her mouth, running along the ridge at the top and then drawing back. “The taste of you is even better.”
“You could eat me whole,” Lyna breathes out, “and I would not complain.”
Cyella laughs and raises a hand to her lips, slowly running her tongue between her fingers to lick the wetness from them. “Perhaps one day, little rabbit,” she says, “but not today.”
She tangles her fingers in Lyna’s hair, pulling her head back so that her ears brush the ground, and dives into her throat again as she quickens her pace. Lyna holds on tighter to her shoulder and finds the curve of her ass with her other hand, using her firm grip to leverage herself at a better angle, for Cyella to pound into her more deeply still. Her stomach floods with heat as her back arches, and she gasps for breath between her half-smothered cries.
“Lyna,” Cyella pants. “I’m going to —“
“Do it,” Lyna replies. “Come on, Cyella, do it.”
Cyella thrusts into her, and she cries out as she feels the base of her cock swelling, stretching her out even further as it forms a knot inside her. Her muscles clench tight around it, her thighs pressing in against Cyella’s hips as if her knot didn’t already anchor her inside. Cyella cries out, muffled, into her throat, and Lyna feels the hot rush of her cum pumping into her as she spills over, flooding her insides and filling her up. She screams as she comes as well, her whole body going tense as a bowstring before she slumps back, limp, on the ground.
“Wicked white,” she pants out when she finds her voice again. “That felt — that feels incredible.”
Cyella laughs softly, lifting her head, and presses another kiss to her lips, much gentler than before. “I did not think,” she murmurs, “that our hunt would leave me this satisfied.”
Lyna hums, contented, and cups her cheek in one hand. “I would have you hunt me down any day,” she replies, “so long as you will have me to satisfy your hunger.”