Dripping Fingers of Ice reached the end of the hall and turned around smartly on his leather boots. His neatly pressed uniform rustled against his chain armor as it settled back into place. His ceremonial spear, just sharp enough to be still considered a weapon, rapped against the highly polished tiles. Measuring his breath, he stepped forward, amusing himself by counting the sixty-three tiles from one end of the hall to the other. His eyes focused on a black jade bust of the Empress at the end of the hall. His rhythmic footsteps echoed against the marble columns every few steps. Seven columns on each side, running the length of the entire hall. He didn’t give them even a second look as he paused at the end of the hall, in the proscribed place by his orders, and spun around again. His eyes briefly focused on the two doors at the end, both of them carved of expensive wood and trimmed with black jade. Stepping purposefully forward, he returned to the other end of the hall, capped with a massive set of doors. Each jade door stood easily eight feet across and took three strong men to open.
He sighed silently, spun around, and returned back to his route. He considered turning his head, to look at the elegant relief carvings in the wall, but he knew that his commander could be watching at any moment. The sneaky Air Dragon-Blooded had a habit of sneaking up on her men, normally with a sharp dagger in the back to remind them that assassins could come at any moment. He let a ghost of a smile cross his lips and reached the end of the hall.
Turning around, he started forward and continued his rounds. Thirty-five laps later, the tedium began to gnaw at him. He paused at the end and looked around, finally breaking the rhythm of his guard duty. Not spotting his commander, he used his right hand to work open the leather strap holding his helmet to his head. With a gasp of relief, he yanked off the helmet and shoved it into the crook of his uniform. His chain shirt scraped against the helmet but he was just happy to get his head out of the humid confinement.
He took a long deep breath to clear his head, his eyes shifting around for his commander. He toyed with the beveled edge of the helmet with his gloved fingers. He turned around once to inspect the room, holding the spear in the crook of his elbow to brush his fingers through his short black hair. Flicking his fingers, he resumed his position for his patrol and prepared to put his helmet back on.
As the edge of the helmet started to obscure his vision, he spotted a shadow of a movement at the far end of the hall, toward the two sets of doors. He plopped his helmet back on, ignored the strap and stepped forward. He felt the prickle of excitement along his skin and he grinned at the thought of surprising his commander.
The ceremonial spear felt light in his hands as he crouched down slightly, coming up to where he spotted the movement. With a lurch, he stepped forward and spun around, bringing the head of the spear in a low arc toward what he imagined would be her stomach. His vision trailed behind, but he felt a spike of disappointment as the spear cracked loudly against the column.
It felt like forever until he responded again, spinning around and looking for his target. His eyes probed the shadows of the room, created from the twelve glowing lanterns from the ceiling. He twirled around again, looking for someone. His heart sped up as he stepped around the column, his spear held ready.
Spotting no one, he crouched down as he carefully walked along the length of the hall, his eyes furtively probing the shadows as he sought out his commander. He could imagine her sneaking up on him and he spun around, haft of his spear flashing in the air. She wasn’t behind him and he spun around, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribs.
He reached the far end of the hall and came out along the wall. His eyes scanned along the length of the hall.
There was someone.
A shadow of movement, stepping out right in front of the very doors he was protecting. Dripping Fingers felt a lurch as his commander caught him out of position, then he realized it wasn’t his commander. It was a woman, no doubt from the curves and the way of her hips, but she was not the same rippling strength of the commander. Neither had he ever seen his commander wearing such an outfit. From head to toe, she was covered in black flexible material. It clung to every part of her body, highlighting her hips, her thighs, and even her breasts. He spotted two nipples pushing out of the fabric, but his eyes automatically followed the complicated folds as they drew his gaze down, toward the junction between her legs. He blushed and forced his eyes up, holding the spear as he cast out his senses to listen for someone sneaking up on him. He stumbled over the words as he spoke loudly.
“Halt!”
The unknown woman turned to face him, one knee twisting slightly as she stood in a alluring position and one that was completely inappropriate for fighting. His eyes flicked along her body and spotted the hilts of two red jade weapons peeking over her shoulders. The weapon sheaths were underneath the fabric wrapping her body. He saw that it was about a foot across, no doubt wrapped around her in some intricate, ritual manner. For a moment, he wondered if there were any clothes underneath the fabric, but his attention focused on her as a low, playful chuckle rose up from beneath the cloth across her face. He watched as her mouth moved, hidden from sight but not sound.
“You know, I was planning on just killing you as you stood there, prancing around back and forth, but then you took off your helmet.”
His lips tightened with the reminder that he broke his protocol. His eyes shifted to the side as he observed the room for others. He didn’t spot anyone besides the intruder but he left his guard up. Her voice teased something in his memories, but he couldn’t grasp his mental fingers around the feeling of familiarity.
Clearing his throat, he thought back at the rope in the corner. One hard pull and it would summon a fang of Dragon-Blooded, all honor guards for the hall and palace. Even as he mentally mapped out how he would lunge for it, he responded.
“Who are you?”
She almost purred, spinning around and bringing her legs crossed in front of him. It threw him off, it wasn’t in the position of any proper fighter.
“Don’t you remember? It’s only been six years since you left the Manor, Tasata.”
He felt like she slammed her fist into his stomach. No one ever called him by his childhood name, not for over five years. Not since he joined the House of Bells. He shivered with the thought, trying to figure out how she knew.
“W-Who are you?”
She chuckled again, walking in a low languished circle, the black-wrapped face turning to keep focused on him. He watched her body move, her tight buttocks flexing with her movement. He had to force himself to look away. Then she chuckled again and a bolt of memory crushed him.
“Wait, Y-Yanasu?”
She chuckled again, “They call me Dancing Thief of Fires now.”
“Dancing… you exalted?”
She giggled softly, coming around again. This time, her back arched, drawing his attention to the swell of her breasts and the delicate curve of her form. He felt sweat beading on his forehead and his hand trembled around his spear. His patrol had gotten more than complicated.
“I… I take it you aren’t here for just the visit.”
She let out a tiny sigh, her back leg swinging around. This time, he saw how her body had brought itself into a balance, a fighting position at last.
“No, I’m here for a certain weapon inside that armory, Tasata.”
“Dripping Fingers.”
“What?”
“Dripping Fingers of Ice, that is my name now.”
She repeated his name, as if she was tasting it, “Dripping Fingers.”
Fingers felt himself being conflicted between the joy of meeting one of his childhood friends and the feeling of danger that radiated from her.
“I can’t let you steal from the Empress, Yu-,” he choked on her new name, “Dancing Thief.”
“She’s long dead,” he thought he saw a smile on her lips, “Dripping Fingers. The Empress is dead and I want something in there.”
His heart tore in two, but he hefted his spear.
“I can’t let you do this.”
Her feet shifted again, another fighting position. He could see how her swords could be drawn quickly and how she would handle his most probably attack.
“Are you sure? Just for old time’s sake?”
Her voice brimmed with playfulness and hope. He had to fight against it and her obvious movements as he crouched down.
“Never. I have a duty to the House of Bells, the Empress, and the Realm.”
She clicked her tongue, just as he remembered she always did as a child. He spotted the shifting of her body as she prepared to strike. At first, he wondered how she could attack from that distance, but he threw up his spear as she launched herself off the ground, her body blurring with afterimages of heat and light in a long arc that brought her the length of the hell. The speed of the blow startled him, but his parry caught the twin blades as they impacted with the dense wood. The force of the blow shuddering through his arms. With a grunt, he shoved his arms forward, throwing back the blades and spinning his spear around for a blow to her stomach. His own blade whistled around as he dove backwards. It almost caught her in the stomach but her body flickered backwards, reappearing a few yards outside the range of the weapon.
He grunted with amusement. She snarled at him, the black fabric masking her expressions except for a parody of rising anger. She brought her swords down in a long arc, slashing down. He threw his hands ahead of him, bringing the haft of his spear to parry the blow. The impact shuddered through his spear, cracking the wood.
Losing his balance, he slammed his knee forward, catching her right in the knee. Her leg crumpled as he flew back, rolling along his spine and using his momentum to spring back to his feet. He saw a flash of fire and parried a rapid set of blows from the red jade sword before launching another kick in her direction. She dodged it, skipping backwards as flames licked up from the outline of her body.
He panted heavily as he staggered to his feet. He realized he was near the corner of the hall, mere feet from the guard rope. He stepped back, keeping his eyes locked on her. She stared at him, hefting her swords in her palm.
“Don’t bother, Dripping, I cut the rope already.”
He felt it against his back. Moving slowly, he stepped aside and tugged on the rope lightly. It came loose in his hand and slithered to the ground. He kicked it aside and glared at her.
“I guess its just between the two of us.”
She nodded, her head moving in its black prison.
“I’m sorry, Dripping Fingers, but only one of us is going to leave here tonight.”
He felt a measure of sadness filling him, but he started to walk toward her, his spear heavy in his hand. His heart pounding in his chest as he prepared for the next flurry of blows.
His spear swung around in a low, lazy blow and she crouched down to avoid it. He swung around, then rapidly changed direction to launch a forward attack. Her body jerked in response and he almost caught her right below her right breast. He snapped his haft across him as her blades slammed into them. He felt the first impact, then a second. He threw them back but a third blow impacted the haft. He realized she was aiming for the spear itself, trying to break his parry. Grunting, he jumped backward while planning his move. Spotting a chance, he kicked off a nearby column and jumped across the width of the hall, hitting a second column with both feet. Grunting from the pain that rose up his legs, he flung himself toward her. The spear whistled in the air. She started to dodge out, flames searing along her body, but he caught the very edge of her left shoulder, tearing fabric and barely missing the skin below.
Dancing Thief hissed out in pain, her pale white skin startling against the black fabric. Her swords came up in a powerful overhead blow, but he could see how she twisted her left hand to change the attack in mid-slash. Preparing himself for pain, he threw up his spear, sliding his hands back as the red jade daiklaves slammed into it. This time, the wood cracked loudly. He watched as she brought her attack down again on the haft, her intent now obvious. At the same time, he grabbed the spear butt with both hands and shoved forward. Wood splintered from the sword’s blow, but the shattered tip slipped past her guard to slam into her shoulder. This time, it caught her and threw her back as he pinned her against a wall. Fabric tore as she twisted violently, trying to escape.
He screamed out as he shoved into her again, piercing her skin as she let out a low hiss of pain. Her blade came flashing up and he had to release the spear to avoid it, slipping backward on the polished tile. His helmet flipped up and he tossed it aside. It clattered loudly to the ground as she yanked out the broken spear, tearing fabric and exposing two long rents in her uniform. The ragged ends fluttered to the ground, showing off a distracting expanse of pale skin and curves that were more than distracting. He swallowed hard, trying not to think about seeing the edge of her naked breast.
She chuckled as she shrugged out of a few black strips along her arm and held up her weapons.
“And now you are weaponless.”
Inwardly, he chuckled and focused on the fight.
“Come on then, I won’t give up.”
She brandished her weapons, “Are you sure, we were friends.”
“No friend of mine steals from the armory.”
She sighed, then blurred forward. He saw her coming in as flames spread out behind her, just a hint of wings spreading out as she came in with an attack that left heat shimmers filling the space behind her. He felt his energy rising up, water dripping from his body as he snapped forward. His fingers reached out almost lazily and caught her wrists. With a wrench and a flash of blue, he twisted hard, throwing her up into the air. Her blades spiraled up in the air. He kicked himself off the ground, launching himself into the air to catch her in the midriff, throwing her flaming form almost the entire length of the hall. She landed on her feet, skidding the rest of the length to crunch against the wall.
“I don’t need weapons, Thief.”
She stood up straighter, brushing off her hands. Her body flashes in the darkness of her uniform and he caught just a hint of nipples, pink and distracting. She chuckled dryly.
“As I can see. The Palace teaches you many things, fighting without weapons is just one of them.”
“The Palace of the Tamed Storm?”
She chuckled dryly, “Not all of us can go to the House of Bells, can we?”
He sighed sadly, “No, we can’t.”
“And I want into this vault, Dripping Fingers.”
“I can’t let you.”
She almost sounded sad when she responded.
“I know.”
And then they crashed together. Dripping Fingers grew wet as he pulled into his energy, fueling his Charms to grab her wrist, twisting her about. She managed to plant a foot on his thigh, twisting in his grip and using his attack against him. His world spun around as he flipped over. Snapping out one foot, he slammed it into the ground, catching the stunning blow. He grabbed with his other hand, catching multiple strips of cloth. Grunting loudly, he twisted the fabric, hearing it tear, and threw her forward. A fluttering of black fabric cascaded down to the ground from his fingers as he jumped to his feet. She skipped over, the fabric slipping off her shoulders and clinging to her breasts. He caught his breath as it slid down, catching on one perk nipple.
Dancing Thief caught his gaze.
“See something you like?”
“Only someone destined for the prisons.”
She tugged at the fabric and it slipped off her breasts. Twisting the fabric in her hand, she yanked it. Fabric tore and slipped to the ground. She stood there, naked from the waist up, except for the black mask over her face. He spotted a curl of auburn hair peaking out. And he felt a shuddering in his loins and his honor.
“This isn’t fair.”
She reached up and pulled the black mask from her face. He gasped at her face, a refined woman instead of the young girl he grew up with. Only a single scar on her face, across her left chin and down across her throat marred it.
“No, war is not fair.”
She smiled, arching her back, presenting a body toned with muscle and trained in thievery. He groaned, not from pain, but the conflict rising inside him. He thought about the years as friends, but then the oaths he made to join the House of Bells and later in his duty.
She must have spotted his decision.
“Very well, Tasata.”
“Dripping Fingers.”
“Ah yes, Dripping Fingers. Well, its time I steal your dance.”
Her face dropped into a serious expression. Dancing Fingers stepped forward, ready for his attack. They came crashing together. Her attack caught him against the throat, a knife-edge blow that he barely dodged. The flickering flames of her blow left a searing steam rising up from the impact.
Dripping Fingers twisted, grabbing her belt and spinning around. Thief kicked up, catching a nearby column and using it to stop his throw. He lurched from the aborted throw and then staggered as she brought a kick into the back of his knee. He tried to catch his balance, but the feeling of her hands grabbing his chain shirt, pulling it up to bind his arms. In response, he quickly snapped the ties, shrugging it off as he felt the heated air rushing past him. She jumped lightly to her feet, tossing the chain aside with a rustle of metal.
“There we go, nice and fair.”
He grunted, his eyes partially focused on her naked body.
“Not really.”
He pumped energy into his body, flaring it with the icy liquid that exploded from his pores, a cloud of mist as he jumped forward. His world slowed down as he grabbed her leg, and yanked up, throwing her toward the wall. Streamers of steam followed her, fading away almost instantly.
She kicked the wall again, and twisted around, but he continue forward with his blow, slamming his body against hers and pinning her to the wall. Kicking hard, he threw her legs apart and grabbed her wrists. The connection of their bodies flash steamed, rising up and almost blinding him but he forced himself to keep holding her tightly. She gasped as she violently jerked to escape. Her eyes flashed into his.
“And now what, Fingers?”
“You go to prison, Thief.”
Her eyes softened, her body losing some of his tenseness.
“Can’t you just let me go?”
On one hand, he really wanted to kiss her for some irrational reason. He bit his lip, fighting the urge. Her eyes hardened instantly and she surprised him by thrusting hard with her hips, staggering him back enough to escape his grip. Flames rose up around her, burning his skin until his own energies rose up in defense, the ice and water surrounding him. Steam rose from their brief contact as he struggled to reassert his position.
She grabbed for his wrists and he snaked them out of her grip, shoving his legs around to catch her again. She wrapped hers around him and he spun around to dislodge her. He felt his body grinding against her, her breasts against his arms. It was distracting in the fight, but he managed to drop himself in a control fall. She gasped as they hit the ground and he flipped over, pinning her to the ground. His legs spread between hers, forcing her knees apart as he pinned her uninjured shoulder and her opposite wrist to the cold ground.
She jerked in his grip. With a scream, she started to force him to the side, but he shoved himself down, pinning her even tighter against the ground. She let out hiss of discomfort. She tried again, but Dripping Fingers managed to keep her pinned down.
“Well, damn.”
Panting, he looked down at his childhood friend. He tried to think of how to keep her bound and calling for help. She took a deep breath, her chest heaving. Steam wafted off her flaming body, soaked by his mere presence.
“We are at an impasse, yes?”
He grunted as she tried to escape him. He had to force his hand down, pinning her tightly against the ground. She jerked up, her hips grinding against his and he realized that he grew hard in their fight. He felt beads of water dripping down his face, splashing down on her and steam rising from their unison.
“I-I can’t keep fighting this way.”
Panting, she jerked again, “I won’t give up.”
He could feel her conviction and her almost naked body pressed against him.
“I know, but what else-”
He froze as she lurched up, he tried to dodge but her kiss surprised him. Her lips found his, pressing tightly against his and stealing his breath away. He froze in shock.
She took the chance to shove him aside, scrambling to her feet in her effort to escape. He swore as he flipped up, jumping to his feet and catching her before she managed to get more than a few steps. Grabbing her from behind, he slammed her into the wall, pressing her face against the stone. His hips drove forward, slapping against her buttocks and driving her hips into the stone. Thief let out a whimper of pain, but he wasn’t finished. Seeking out her hands, he pinned them once again against the wall, holding her tightly as he hissed.
“No more!”
He looked down to see her breasts, just the perfect size to fill his hands, but it wasn’t the time or place. His body, on the other hand, thought it was a perfect time as his hardness grew tight against her back, stabbing her with his own mortal spear.
“Or what, you’ll stab me with your spear?”
He flushed hotly, “My spear is broken.”
A wry chuckle, playful and angry at the same time, “Not from this position.”
His body throbbed with heat, but he hissed loudly in her ear.
“Stop fighting!”
She hissed back, “Never.”
Thief pushed herself from the stone, but it only ground her ass against his cock, reminding him of his own discomfort and growing, illicit passions. He shoved back, using his hips as a weapon. She shuddered and he felt her skin growing hot underneath his touch. His lips were next to her earlobe when he grunted.
“You are making this hard.”
“I can feel.”
She tried to escape again, but just managed to half-twist herself in his grip. He looked her in the eyes, her body pressed against his arms, her breasts heaving. His eyes flicked down to look at the pink nipples, tight and hard, then back up to her warm brown eyes.
She smiled warmly, inhaling to present her breasts right in his vision. He felt his cock surging with heat, his desire rising up sharply.
“I won’t tell.”
He had to swallow hard, “I won’t let you.”
The resolve in her eyes firmed up, “And I will keep trying until you kill me.”
He paused for a moment, “I don’t want to kill you.”
She jerked against him, griding her body against his, “Then I will never… ever… give…”
He silenced her in the only way he knew, with his hands tied with pinning her down.
Dripping Fingers kissed her.
She make a gasping noise, then slumped in his arms as his lips parted hers, kissing passionately. It was a sudden, brutal kiss and he felt her body tensing up to fight. He responded by releasing her one hand. He watched her eyes flash open in surprise but he planted his hand on her shoulder and pushed it against the wall, stepping back enough to pin her back against the wall.
“What are you-”
Her words froze in her throat as he forced his way back into her, spreading her legs with his knees and holding her shoulders against the wall. His lips found hers, stealing her own breath as he pressed his rock-hard shaft against her body.
He broke the kiss. She gasped, her eyes staring into his, trying to read his emotions. He leaned forward, feeling the ache burning inside him.
“Then, I will kill you, Dancing Thief,” he felt his face harden, “I will stab you until you die.”
Her eyes widened but he caught her in another kiss. His body felt hot, reacting to the flickering flames that rose up from her body. His own banner rose up higher, steam forming around them as she struggled in vain, trying to escape even as she melted into his kiss. He released her hand again, this time to fumble with his own uniform, to free his aching cock. She arched her back against him as he pressed his hand up between her legs, working his fingers through the fold of cloth until he felt a wet heat soaking his fingertips. With a wrench, he tore open her clothes and jammed in hard and fast, plunging his shaft into her body. It was the wrong position, but there was no question as he forced his way into her. Her lips opened up against his, a gasping breath and a shuddering that coursed through her body.
He grunted as he plunged deep inside her. His cock felt deep inside the spasming depths of her body. His hand flew against hers, pinning her wrist back against the wall as she tried to twist out of her grip. He refused to let go of her, holding her tightly as he drove into her, plunging his shaft hard and fast. The sound of slapping skin rose up between them, steam clinging to their bodies as he vented his passion and fight into her.
Dripping Fingers felt her holding him, clutching to his shoulder as she thrust with her hips, giving him more access to drive his throbbing shaft into her. He felt her passion dripping down his length, splashing off his balls with the intensity of boiling liquid. He ignored the growing discomfort, driving into the very flames itself. He pounded harder and faster, the steam choking his breath as he felt an orgasm rushing up inside him.
Just as he reached the reach, she bucked hard and violently, throwing him back. He felt himself falling then slamming against the ground. His body exploded with ice and steam as he flipped her over, struggling with her. Her legs lashed out and he grabbed them, hooking them with his elbows and folding her almost in half. His cock felt naked in the air, the heated flames of her body searing at his balls.
He lunged forward again with his hips, but his cock head slammed up against the fabric that slipped back into place. She grinned, “I won’t give up.”
He chuckled, “And I will kill you.”
Gathering up his energies, he drove into her, his cock scraping against the fabric. He repeated his drive, pulling on techniques from his wrestling. This time, his cock drove deeper, tearing at the fabric. Another thrust, harder and faster as water dripped off his body. Steam poured off their bodies as he drove again and again, forcing his cock deeper into the fabric.
She gasped, “What are you doing!?”
He grunted as he drove in again, water soaking her and steam choking their voices.
“Pounding… Surf… good for getting inside… armor!”
With a final drive, his Essence-wrapped cock tore through the fabric protecting her sex and plunged deep, slapping hard as he buried himself to his balls inside her clenching hole. She let out a wail of pleasure and surprise, her back arching as he held her folding in half.
His body grew wetter, draining his energies as he threw everything he had into taking her, hard and powerful, forcing her across the polished tile. His knees scraped against the tile. His cock felt raw, scraping against the black fabric, but the conflict of slick pleasure, burning pain, and scraping fabric kept him right on the edge of orgasm.
Her face twisted up as she gasped. He watched a flush rose across her skin, her body igniting in hot flames as she struggled to take the intensity of his blows. He watched as she struggled to contain something inside her, her body shaking with effort. Her free hands clutched tightly to his arms, fingernails digging in. He continued to drive into her, ceaselessly and powerfully, until something finally broke inside her.
Her burning banner flickered violently, then she let out a long wail as something exploded inside her, burning through her veins with an orgasm that sputtered out her anima banner. He grinned in fierce relief and continued to drive into her, plunging in and out with wet, slurping noises as his essence overwhelmed hers.
She let out another scream, then started to relax. Her body tightened as she looked up into his eyes, a mixture of fear and surprise filling them when he refused to stop. He continued to tug on the energy well inside him, fueling his passion with Essence until his entire glowed with the mist that rose out of him, turning to mist as the fading flames of her anima banner heated it.
He felt himself on the edge and relished it, driving harder and harder, trying to force another orgasm out of her. At first, it looked as if she wouldn’t, then her eyes rolled up inside her and he felt her hips rising up to greet him, her inner walls clenching around his shaft. He let the grin spread even wider across his face as he forced himself to bury even more his aching cock into her body. The wet slurping slaps were loud in the hall.
A long wail rose out of her again and he felt her body tensing up, squeezing in vain effort to halt the incoming orgasm. Dripping Finger’s eyes locked on hers as he watched the pleasure take her, the whites of her eyes rolling back as she let out another screaming orgasm.
She tried to escape weakly but he continued to hold her tightly, keeping her caught in his inescapable grip as he pounded his pleasure into her, refusing to give up until his body finally succumbed to orgasm. He watched as she experienced orgasm after orgasm, her body shaking violently as she fought him. He forced himself to keep on going, even as his own Essence drained out and they were left, naked flesh against naked flesh. He felt his orgasm rising up even as she suffered through her countless one.
He felt blood on his tongue as he stared into her, trying to outlast her. Her body shook violently, shuddering with yet another orgasm. He wondered if he could make it when she suddenly gasped, then slumped down on the ground. He continued to drive into her, plunging his shaft in and out until his orgasm finally hit with the force of a hurricane. He let out a huge bellow, the orgasm sucked every ounce of consciousness from his body. His vision grew white and he felt his body passing out.
He woke with the feeling of someone dragging him to his feet. He sputtered and flailed around, his hand hitting something soft and covered in fabric. He snapped open his eyes, then stepped back in surprise as he stared at his commander.
“Wing-Lord! I’m so sorry. Oh, my, the vault!”
His commander was an older woman, appearing to be in her mid-forties but known as a cunning warrior and assassin. Her hair, white with age and Essence of air, was pulled out into a stern bun. A perfectly understandable hair style that went with her perfectly pressed uniform and the blue jade spear she carried with her always. She had a grim look on her face, eyes the color of blue jade and piercing into his very skull.
“The vault is safe, no one has entered or left it since the Empress… took her trip.”
Relief flooded through him. He slumped back against one of the columns, panting heavily. The older woman chuckled dryly and brushed some imaginary dust from her shoulder.
“Better than you grabbing your commander’s breast when you woke up.”
He blushed a hot red and looked away.
“Fingers.”
“Y-Yes, madam?”
“Put it away.”
He looked up in confusion, “Put what…” his voice trailed off as he realized she was pointedly looking at him, but lower. Shaking, he looked down to see his cock still out of his pants.
“Oh, my…” he blushed violently as he shoved his parts back into his body. He buttoned it back up, then flinched as the commander stepped right up against him.
“In one hour, I want you in proper uniform and in my office, explaining how I found you in this hall sleeping.”
“I-I-”
“One hour.”
He blushed violently. His commander stepped away and toward the polished marble walls. She looked at him and held out her hand. White energies rose up from her palm, curling up like steam. In the wall, he saw a print forming, a distinct shape of a woman pressed up against against it, hands on her breasts.
The older woman looked at him.
“And I expect you to explain this also.”