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The winter breeze blew sharp and bitter into her face; razors in her eyes and scraping across her cheeks, flushed red from the morning chill and her own physical exertion. Short and measured were her breaths, the pace of her heart desperate to match that of her steps as she sprinted through the frozen undergrowth.
The Golden Phoenix was famed for her speed. In the fleeting moments between a raindrop's fall from a leaf and gentle collision with the earth below, she could impale entire battalions with her spear. Her footstep light as a feather, never to leave her mark and prove her presence; her coat flaring and rippling behind her in waves of gold and teal, a dazzling beauty to capture the eye before the spear tip captured the heart. Blessed by the wind and sun, a warrior preceded by reputation and rumor in equal measure. All of which she proudly proclaims to have rightfully earned, for it is only right for one such as her to be held with such reverence, no?
And yet, in this moment, and in the moments to come, no such pride beheld her. No such hunger for gold and glory blessed her with inspiration.
A different hunger gnawed at her bones, haunted her soul. Cursed her to hurry through the forest, a golden bird gliding through seas of white and evergreen, as if death was after her. Worse still, her desperation surged strong enough to even eclipse her shame.
To her mild surprise, quick scans of the surrounding forest yielded no signs of damage. How unlike him. What whispers and boasts carried through barracks and mess halls and even the dark and slim alleyways of the furthest corners of civilization, if not pertaining to her and her greatness, concerned him and his feats, his tactics, his temperament. Nary a branch or blade of grass are ever spared once he started on his warpath, regardless of where it led - but nothing was there to greet her senses beyond the crisp coolness of winter and the sight and scent of fresh snow and pine.
Perhaps he thought keeping still would confuse and mislead her. Despite his name and nature, the so-called "Great Destroyer" was capable of such strategy and patience; it was a lesson she and hers learned the hard way, more times than she cared to admit even to herself. But, her own name proudly revealed her nature, and every word and action further proclaimed her truth. Whichever trick he pulled, whichever spar she lost, whichever battle he and his forces came out on top of, she would only rise and return greater than before. Pushing through all suffering until she at last soared as she was destined to.
It was what drew him to her, he told her several times before. More than anything. Victory and defeat came to taste equally sweet to him, as long as both came at her hand. Never has he nursed such an exhilarating rivalry with a fellow commander before, and he knew he never would again. Her beauty, her bite, and above all, her tenacity. He wanted, needed, for nothing more.
Similar qualities drew her to him in turn, in spite of her public bluster. Over and over again.
They were what drove her through the snowdrifts, lured her towards the pale horizon, warmed her heart and soul enough to stave off some of the chill creeping through her clothes.
In time, she reached his camp, only sparing one final glance where she came from to ensure she had, indeed, left no footprints behind. True to her scouts' previous report, his troops had apparently come to settle here and have remained in place for some time. What their intentions were, anyone could guess; if she did, and the scattering of weapons and mutilated targets certainly provided her ample evidence, she would venture that he believed this clearing near the foot of the mountains served as fine training grounds. Typical.
The silence pervading the area struck her with a lingering sense of unease. What wasn't typical of him and his lot was abandoning their base to go off and do gods know what. And with so many of their instruments of war left unattended, as well! She made her advance through the grounds slowly, spear secure in her grasp, her tread lighter and more careful than ever before; few things were beneath him, and ambushes did nothing to stain his honor.
The memory of him exploding from behind a boulder and pinning her to the ground, his laughter filling the air and only growing more uproarious as she recovered from her shock and leveled her spear at the center of his back in red-faced ire, halted her in her tracks. With a huff and a shake of her head, she composed herself and pressed on - yet her heart continued to flutter all the same.
At the end of a makeshift cul-de-sac loomed his tent, small and stout but no less imposing in its design and presence. Fabrics of deep crimson, as though dyed in blood, embroidered with patterns she knew to be native to his people: striking in their effortless intricacy, yet still so bizarre, even ominous. Symbols and brands black as night carving through blood and flesh, his signature upturned triangle and tattoo designs marking the tent's entrance.
Against herself, she paused, her fingertips just brushing against the tent flap. What if he wasn't in there? What if he wasn't in the camp at all? Could it be that she'd journeyed all that way only to make herself out as a fool?
Nonsense. She has never allowed doubt to stall her before, and she won't now. He was there. He always was. She knew it.
She all but swatted the tent flap aside with resurging confidence, stepping inside without another moment's hesitation. With her came the sun's brief intrusion, lukewarm light peeking through the gap; as if on purpose, it shone on the form of a large man, seated on a plain red tarp with his back to her, revealing to her his hiding place.
"Took you long enough." His voice rumbled deep and low in his throat, sending a shiver down her spine that could not be further from fear. Yet still, he refused to turn.
"Hmph! You speak as though you've any right to my time or presence," she answered with another huff. "Perhaps one day you might be inspired to feel some sort of gratitude towards me for offering you either."
"Heh. Perhaps." At last he graced her with a look, turning and tilting his head just enough for her to see a familiar grin beginning to stretch across his face. "Or perhaps this is my show of gratitude? My warriors ordered away, nothing and no one to stand in our way but us ourselves. Perhaps, little bird, it is you who should be grateful."
Another shiver rattled her frame as his eyes bore into her own; her pride hoped he didn't notice it, while her desire all but begged him to. Anything to rouse him from his seat and bring him close to her. "I struggle to find the good sense in ordering your forces away without their weapons, never mind gratitude for you doing so. Why take such a risk?"
"You call this a risk? I'm hurt."
Her heart quickened as he rose to her challenge, his hulking silhouette framed against the wall he once faced. "Their exercises for today involve them hunting game armed only with their wit and bare hands. I won't suffer fools who can accomplish nothing with either. It is the soldier who makes the weapon, after all." He was upon her in a stride or two, seeming almost as eager to close the distance between them as she secretly was. "And aside from that..." He bent down, leaning in close. "I truly did wish for us to have some... privacy."
"I suppose that's fair," she managed to say, in spite of the glow of his eyes and the sudden proximity of his mouth to hers threatening her focus. "So you did lure me here like this on purpose."
"And I knew you would come to me," he told her. "I may not always find your scouts, but these last ones were fortunately lacking in their stealth and swiftness. I knew a waiting game was all I needed to play afterwards."
At that, she couldn't stop the small smile from gracing her lips, nor did she really want to anymore. "It seems you know me well."
"How could I not? I pay you nothing but the closest attention, my little bird. As you do me."
"I afford your obsession that undeserved generosity, yes," she laughed. Then, once more curious, she pulled the tent flap back, peeking out at grounds. "You're certain they won't be back anytime soon?"
"If they value their lives and rations."
"So needlessly cruel."
"A price must be paid for the distance between us, little bird."
Before she could answer, she was pulled away from the entrance and into his arms with a yelp - one that he quickly smothered with his lips as he brought her into a crushing kiss. In another circumstance, she'd balk at how easily she submitted to him; but here and now, she chose to forgo and forget her pride and shame, and threw her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with equal fervor.
"I missed you," he growled into her lips.
"I missed you," she gasped. "Gods, I missed you. It's been too long."
"Far too long," he agreed. "I starve for you."
"Then come devour me." It was her turn to string him along, hands clutching and clawing at his coat as she walked backwards and tugged him along with her, inching them further back into the warm shade of the tent. Never once did his hands leave her person, sliding up her sides, squeezing her hips, grabbing her ass; lecherous but adoring in his remembrance and worship of her figure, held back only by the clothes that barred his touch. Every kiss that broke from their shared stumble backwards was immediately replaced by another, the strands of saliva tethering their lips and tongues each time they parted snapping and reforming again and again. She answered his roaming hands with her own in his hair, weaving her fingers through waves of ebony, discarding his hair pin and his top knot with it, relishing the groans she earned with every greedy pull at every luscious lock.
With the first brush of her heel against the tarp, she tumbled down, and he quickly followed behind. Gathering her into his arms once more, he pressed his body into hers, eager to continue his dominance - but she would no longer stand for it. As his weight began to bear down on her, heavy enough to be felt but still light enough to escape from, she struck; before he could realize and react, a pair of strong legs were hooked around his waist, the hands in his hair suddenly reappearing on his chest. A squeeze and a shove and he was rolled onto his back; freed from his trap, she boldly placed him in her own, flashing him a mischievous smirk as she caged him with her own slender form.
He laughed breathlessly. "I thought you wanted me to devour you?"
"I do," she said. "But you must know that my hunger still outmatches yours."
"Is that so." Propping himself up on his elbows, he licked his lips and mirrored her smirk. "Prove it, then."
She was glad to. Cradling his cheeks, she dove down and captured him in another kiss, moaning into his mouth as she slipped her tongue inside. A familiar stiffness began to prod at her thigh; pulling back to leer at him, she shifted her weight, lining up her clothed mound with his hardening cock and pressed down again. With a low growl he yanked her to him, a hand held firm on the small of her back, swallowing her moans and whines with a gleeful vengeance as he met her tease with shallow but firm rolls of his hips that fed into their grind.
Their clothes have separated them long enough, they quietly came to agree. His coat opened with a deft unraveling by hands that knew him better than society would allow, his chest and abdomen smoothed over by fingers and palms that seemed desperate to fuse to his skin. A hiss escaped him with the sudden exposure to the air, but her loving administrations proved a welcomed distraction. Half-sharp nails raked over his flesh, traced battle scars faded and fresh, with just the right pressure to make him shudder with arousal and long for more, for a deeper cut. He lolled his head back to the rhythm of her lips parting from his mouth and moving to his cheeks, across his jawline, down his neck; satisfied hums and smiles drawn out with ease, rewards for her eyes and ears that encouraged her to continue.
Soon enough he roused from his docile stupor, however; salacious vixen that she was, she dared to test his patience by groping his pectorals with added strength, and giving his nipples a good pinch. His lidded eyes snapped open, a light gasp breaking out and the fire in his cheeks burning twice as hot at the gesture. And she had the nerve to giggle! Such arousing insolence!
"Why do you make such a face, darling?" she asked. "I thought you liked being touched there?"
"Audacity," he growled, though the smile threatening the corners of his lips and the ever-growing strain in his trousers betrayed him two-fold. "To lull me into such false security before striking me in such a way..."
"Must you view everything through a warlike lens? Then you wonder why I consider you such a brute," she dramatically lamented. Still, her little journey down his body continued on undeterred, another giggle bubbling to the surface of her lips. "To think the Great Destroyer would turn out so soft and pliable beneath all of his arrogance."
Part of him was tempted to allow what she wished upon him - he was a slave to that pretty mouth of hers - but his own pride and mischief won out in the end, and just before she could poke her little pink tongue out to swipe at a nipple, he brought a swift and heavy hand down on her ass. She yelped, almost jumping up from her seat on his lap, a deep blush exploding across her face in such a way that he couldn't help but bark out a laugh (nor could he help the strong ache and twitch of his member at her reaction).
"Why do you make such a face, little bird? I thought you liked being touched like that?" Oh, her pout was simply glorious. It was almost a shame that such an expression couldn't hold for long; to make love while beholding such beautifully narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks and adorable scowl would make him a happy man. With equal joy, though, if not greater, he simply sat up straighter and looped his arms around her waist, his beaming, brazen amusement to symbolize his petty victory.
"Brute," she called him again, though her words rang weak and weightless. "How dare you."
"How dare I?" he echoed. "Shall I do it again, to show you exactly how?"
Her eyes rounded at the prospect - and yet, he found no fear or indignation in them. Quite the opposite. "Perhaps I am only daring to hold you to a mirror," he said. "To think the Golden Phoenix would be such a naughty, mewling minx, beneath all of her haughty, hypocritical splendor."
"Hmph!" Contrary to her supposed outrage, she took his face into her hands once again and leaned down, resting her forehead against his own. "With the sound you forced out of me, we're both lucky the entire forest hasn't heard and discovered us."
"Am I to blame for your siren song? Should fault not lie with you and your shameless temptations?"
"So you do enjoy my touch." Her natural confidence crept back in, a twinkle in her eye and a quirk of her lips.
"And yours is such an ego that you needed me to tell you so," he shot back playfully. "And such that you'll act as if you're any different from me."
"I did not deny enjoying your touch even once, now did I?"
"No," he mused, "but for a moment, I almost believed otherwise. Won't you prove me a fool again?"
"Won't I, my love?" She kissed him before he could answer, deep and feverish, her thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks - and he pardoned it, for the only answer he had to offer regardless was a bite at her lip and a kiss of his own.
Down they went again, resuming their rut as they all but melted back onto the floor and into each other's arms. Remembering where they left off, he pawed at the front of her coat, sneaking his hands inside to finally feel her skin - but to his surprise, he actually did, with no other clothing left to obstruct him.
"You're not wearing an undershirt?" he asked her. She shook her head. A hint of concern showed in his expression, pinching his brow.
"Were you... not cold, on your journey here?"
"I handled it just fine," she assured him. "I would never surrender to something as trivial as the cold." Her voice fell to a whisper, as though the dirty secret she harbored was meant only for his ears. "I'm not wearing underwear, either."
"Oh! Is that so?" He chuckled. "Such a naughty bird you are. What inspired this recklessness in you?"
"My need for your touch," she breathed, "and my disdain for anything that would deprive me of it for even a single moment longer."
"Naughty bird," he repeated, though his own voice had grown husky. Eager to grant her wish, he pulled apart the knots, the belt, peeled away the thin layers of fabric until nothing was left to veil her from his sight. Another shiver passed through her as she watched him devour her bare torso with his eyes, feeling his manhood strain for her through his own clothes even harder than before.
"Though you may proclaim otherwise," he said, "I am certain the winter winds affected you more than you'll admit. Come. Let me warm you..."
Gods, his hands felt divine. Rough and textured from years of battle and hardship, they were shockingly pleasant to touch and nothing but adoring in their exploration of her body, reverent in their caress and massage of soft skin and lean but toned muscle. He urged her forward and she obeyed without a word, moaning as he brought his mouth to her breast, refusing to waste any more time. She all but clung to him as he suckled and swirled his tongue over her nipple, his heavenly hands roaming the slender expanse of her back. She whined as he bit into the side, tongue and teeth leaving their mark upon supple flesh; at the same time, he slid a hand down and gave her ass another smack, albeit lighter this time. She clung to him harder, leaned into his touch the furthest she could, the ache that had been growing in in her core their whole encounter now becoming almost unbearable; he only sucked harder, lavishing both breasts with his affection, escalating from a hand on her ass to fingers creeping beneath her waistband and trying to tug her pants down entirely.
"Ha... it's hardly fair, is it," she spoke around puffs of breath. "That you may take me like this, but I may not do the same to you."
"I care nothing for fairness," he said - and to prove his point, he ceased his disrobing of her to place his greedy hands on her chest instead. A lecherous grin bloomed as he toyed with her soft mounds, rubbing and rolling her now oversensitive nipples and kneading her as she bit her lip in a vain struggle to contain her whines and gasps; a pleasure to his eyes and ears.
"I do," she weakly countered. "Unlike you, I've a sense of honor." Quickly and smoothly, she resumed his work and did away with her pants herself, leaving her fully nude aside from her headband. "And with my sense of honor"-she reached over, intending to slide his coat and pauldrons off of his shoulders-"I see to it that- ah!"
Another spank, the collision of newly exposed flesh resounding in a much sharper smack, and a yelp of a much more embarrassing pitch. Worse still, in the aftermath came fingers sliding down into her folds, the sensation stalling her breath and sending jolts of pleasure through her nerves.
"I care nothing for fairness, Golden Cheese," he reiterated; his tone oozed smug sensuality and gods above, it only made her wetter.
"I... Fuck," she chose to sigh. "Gods, just touch me, Burning Spice. Please."
He had nothing to say, for he had already busied himself with doing exactly that. She moaned her pleas and curses as he rubbed along her slit, bucking her hips each time she felt calloused fingertips circling over her aching clit. Soon enough he turned his teasing to her dripping entrance, tracing the edges ever so softly until he finally coaxed a strained "please"; satisfied with her good manners, he rewarded her with two fingers, and her noises grew even more shameless as the thick digits massaged her walls and steadily pumped in and out of her.
"Burning Spice," she begged so deliciously, "I-I can't take it anymore. I need you inside me."
"Already am." He went as he did, never slowing but never speeding up, occasionally curling against her sweet spot just right to reward himself with yet more delicious noises. But his eyes had gone dark, his pupils blown wide with lust, and his breath turned shallow; his composure was slowly coming apart, too.
"Oh, you bastard- I need you," she whined. "Gods I need you, I need your cock, it's been too long, gods I need you inside me please-!"
To think the Great Destroyer would turn out so soft and pliable beneath all of his arrogance, indeed.
It pained her, the sudden emptiness that came as he pulled his fingers out. But the disappointment was short-lived, struck dead by the tantalizing sight of him lapping at his fingers as though her juices were the only cure for his fatal thirst. Once again she started for his clothes; this time, only his pants, and this time, he did not resist. A sigh of relief left him as she pulled them down low enough to free his throbbing member; for so long has he shared her desperation, and so strong was his own ache now. Shifting to line up better with him, she took a moment to press a finger to him and guide him to her; they moaned in unison as she rubbed her slit along his length, slowly grinding it between her folds and back out again. Once, twice, more, until they were both panting with need he seemed sufficiently lubed up.
It truly had been too long. The sting of his entrance as she sunk down onto him was familiar, but sharper than she remembered; much to her sorrow, her body had already forgotten his size. She grimaced, hissing as she took him in, biting her lip when he finally bottomed out.
Even so, despite the pain, she was happy. Deliriously so. "Fucking gods," she sighed. "I've needed this for so fucking long."
"Me too," he agreed breathlessly. He smoothed over her hips with his palms, gripping them with unusual gentleness, gazing upon her in rapture. "Beautiful bird..."
The tight stretch slowed her more than she wanted, but she nevertheless moved, allowing her eyes to roll back in ecstasy as she rode him. He watched her in captivated silence (save for his own little noises, of course), eyes roaming every inch of her perfect figure and hands still cradling her hips as if they were a gift. The plushness of her thighs as she straddled him; the bounce of her breasts as she kept up her steady grind; her soft, kiss-bruised lips, parted by her moans, her sighs, her curses, his name. A sliver of light slipped through a gap in the tent, small but still enough to illuminate the space a bit more - and gods above, the little beam of golden winter light that shone upon her as she used him to pursue her pleasure... He struggled to keep his mind from going blank at the sight of it all. He was hypnotized.
"You felt nothing then," he managed to say, though not without effort, "as you made your way to me?"
"It-hah-it was easy," she answered with similar difficulty. "Though I wore so little, I-I was warmed by the thought of what awaited me."
"Do you think of me when we are apart?" he asked. He had asked her such a thing more than once before, and she, him. He could not help it then, and he could not help it now. Losing himself in the fog of bliss, he longed to hear the same answer he always did. And she provided it, like she always did.
"There are days when I can't think of anything else." Slowly but surely, the sting faded; as pain was gradually replaced with pleasure, she began to move faster. "Fuck, I- I crave you. Our fights, our petty squabbles, ahh you- your voice, your touch, your taste, everything. Everything. I want you. I need you."
"I need you all the time," came his own answer, the one he always gave her in turn. "You haunt my every waking moment. I want, gods I want to make love to you every night and awaken beside you every morning."
"How, ah, how scandalous," she joked. "That the Great Destroyer would long for a rival commander in su-hah, such a way."
"You were so desperate for my cock that you hurried through ice and snow to me without any underwear beneath your uniform," he growled, his voice thick and heavy with desire.
"Fuck yes I did," she moaned. "And I will gladly do so again."
"Come to me naked next time, so I may thaw you with my tongue."
"Oh gods, don't tempt me- fuck- oh gods-" Her movements grew needy, desperate, any concern over being heard beyond the tent dissolving with the rest of her self-restraint. The smell of sweat, sex and lingering spices drove her mad; the feeling of his cock pulsing inside of her, rubbing at her tender walls, kissing her deepest depths all but reduced her to a shivering, whorish mess. Craving ever more of her, he pushed against her back, nudging her into his chest; she listened eagerly, leaning against him and meeting him halfway when he pulled her into another kiss. More and more he surrendered to his own instinct, his hips bucking as he sought more and more of the tight, wet heat enveloping his cock.
"I'm close," she whined.
"Hurry up, then," he grunted. "Keep going and cum for me."
To help her along, he reached down and rubbed her clit with his thumb, hard and steady. It made her hips stutter, and her vision go white.
"Go on, cum for me. Milk my cock. It's been too long. I thought you wanted me? Needed me?"
"Gods, yes, I do- oh gods, Burning Spice- please- BURNING SPICE!"
She tumbled over the edge as she rode him for all he was worth, throwing her head back with a cry of utter euphoria as her orgasm tore through her body. She didn't stop and neither did he; she wanted to milk her climax as much as she could, and he was happy to help her, ravishing her clit with his fingers and holding her steady as he kept her pace with his thrusts. As she wound down from her high, he was nearing his peak himself - and noticing it, she chose to be bold one more time and bit into his neck, while groping at his chest and teasing his nipples. It was all it took; gripping her hips tight enough to pierce her skin with his nails, he bounced her in his lap with bestial ferocity. She moaned weakly into his neck, overwhelmed by his savage pounding; she buried her face deeper as he finished inside of her with a drawn out moan, his release spilling over hot and thick, filling her up.
His back hit the floor with a light thud, exhaustion pulling them both under.
When the cold wind picked up enough to push its way further into the tent, neither was certain. But it mattered little; at the first shudder, Burning Spice surrendered his coat to her, draping it over her naked body to shield her from the chill (although she did protest; he shooed away her concerns, insisting his coat was the warmer one). He held her snug to his chest, gently rubbing her back; she tucked her head just beneath his chin, enjoying his warmth as she traced patterns into his skin absentmindedly. Such tenderness from him was uncommon, to say the least. Of course, let it be her to bring out such a side of him.
"You don't think we could stay like this for all time, do you?" she idly mused.
"No," he answered, "though I see the appeal."
"Really? How shocking." Though her smile was hidden, he could sense it nevertheless. "And here I thought you were too taken by the battlefield to ever even entertain such a notion."
He chuckled. "Better yet, we could rest there instead of here. You and I, stripped bare and tangled in one another, in the wake of a blood-soaked duel. Would that not be the greatest show of our passion?"
"I suppose it would be... for you."
"Heh."
She laughed, then sighed softly. "I also suppose... we'd end up caught by our men, would we not?"
A pause. "And if we were?"
"Our careers would be in jeopardy... our troops would turn their backs on us," she quietly fretted. "I could not bear to lose everything I've worked for... I know you couldn't, either."
Another pause, longer than the last. She hummed as he ran his hand through her hair, coiling her fluffy locks around his fingers. "If they are so easily disillusioned," he began, "then they are unworthy of our leadership. Gods know the foolishness we permit amongst them. They know the wrath we are within our rights to visit upon them for their transgressions. They would do well to spare us their meaningless judgement, should we ever be found out."
"My, my. I never thought you capable of such optimism, either."
"The spell you cast on me has affected me in interesting ways, little bird."
She laughed again, and he couldn't help but join her. Suddenly curious, she slowly rose to her knees, drawing his coat in tighter around her body to keep out the cold. The tent entrance was several feet away, still closed but for the small gap sewn by the wind; she tried to gaze through it, into the world beyond. "Do you think we still have time before they return?"
"Certainly. I ordered them to leave at sunrise and return only at sunset, if and when they hunt down suitable trophies."
"Then..." She tiptoed her fingers up his chest, coming to cup his chin, a twinkle in her eye. "Perhaps we could have a bit more fun? If you aren't tired, of course."
"Me, tired? After only one round? You insult me," he said, his tone indignant but his blooming smile and the mirth in his eyes betraying him.
"Oh, I couldn't have known. You seem so calm and content where you are. You can't blame me for assuming, surely."
"And you seem cold." He was up in a flash, capturing her in his arms and wrestling her to the ground once more; though she tried to fight back, her attempts were feeble, overshadowed by her joy and laughter. He loomed over her, her body eclipsed by his; and yet, despite his stature, his glowing eyes, his sharp-toothed grin, she could not have felt less endangered.
"And what makes you think I'm cold?" she asked. "Me, cold? After what I've accomplished today?"
"If not cold," he said, "then certainly greedy. You hoard my clothes and my affection without remorse."
"As I've told you once already," she murmured, "I am warmed by the thought of you."
"The cold sun of winter still shines, its biting chill carried to our doorstep." She leaned into the hand he placed on her cheek, taken by its tenderness - while the other quickened her heart and sparked heat in her core as it crept up her inner thigh. "Shall I not warm you any further, so you may later soar above the tundra itself, unburdened by frost?"
"You shall," she agreed warmly, smiling as he leaned down and pressed their lips together.