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…The forest has always provided for Brynhilder. Since she was small, she can remember never once struggling to find prey to chase— or a target to track. It always knew exactly what she needed, and while it may take back what it is due, it was never something she particularly minded parting with. It was the exchange of life, and that was something she understood now more than ever.
It’s quiet in her mind, the bow in her hand is drawn tight- the string straining. It wanted to snap, she wanted it to snap. But it wasn’t the time, her prey has yet to still long enough. She would strike and hit the heart, nothing else and nothing less. Her chest heaved up and down, her hair swayed behind her. Time slowed down, as if the god of it themselves had blessed this moment— intrigued as to the outcome of Brynhilder’s hunt.
She can hear her mother’s voice, lingering just behind her. Strong arms that now match her own, guiding her stance.
“ steady now, steady.
Hold strong. “
She held. She waited, and waited- until her very self began to blend into her surroundings. Until she felt her feet sink into the moss, her hair thin with the wind. Until her one eye would narrow, as her prey finally paused. A mere second pause, the turn of a small fluffy eared animal head. In that moment, the forest said ‘you may’ and Brynhilder took it up on its offer.
The relief after she let go was immediate, a sharp snap and then a dull ache was all that remained from her tight posture. The arrow had struck true, a killing blow. As she repositioned her bow along her back, red hair momentarily obstructs her vision. In this moment, the forest said ‘you may’ once again. This time, it was Fiona that responded.
“ great shot, archer.
You have the aim of a mighty warrior.
May I ask your name? “
Bryn freezes in place, the echo of a slightly aged voice shook her to her core. ‘How could I have missed her?’ Her eye widened as she turned to the side, arms still drawn forward in case of a threat. She wasn’t particularly worried, as the pitch of the tone told her no man currently laid wait. But she herself was a mighty foe, was she not? Should this woman match her might, there’s a chance she will not escape unscathed.
She spots Fiona immediately, like a white dove among a murder of crows. Brynhilder almost believes she has died, and who she sees before her is a Valkyrie. The mere vision of her is otherworldly, so much so that the usually forward archer is at a loss for words. Soft, moonlight touched skin, golden hair with waves like fruit baring vines, a figure so thin she looked as if she would perish by a mere touch.
Before her, Brynhilder must’ve looked ghastly in comparison. Her idle daze of slight admiration in the women’s presence, was cut short by Fiona’s own amused voice.
“ do you not have a name, archer? “
Bryn shook from her daze, looking away to try and focus on her recent kill. She ignored the strange, yet captivating woman and instead moved through the foliage into the small open field— to grab her dead prey.
“ I’ve never met another in these woods,
you don’t look like you belong here. “
As Brynhilder kneeled down to roughly pull her arrow from the small animal- she caught sight of the woman standing in the tree-line behind her. Like she was avoiding the setting sun, or light all together. Her eye would widen once more, at the sight of two peaking horns atop the ivory woman’s head.
Adorned in silks, with jewel like eyes and a soft exterior. This woman had to be godly, or perhaps- that which a god coveted. Bryn didn’t realize it then, but her heart stammered quicker the longer she looked through the corner of her eye. Only in stories did she hear about such women, like flowers they were described. Her own mother told her they were that, just stories. As the world was far too dark to allow for fragile petals to grow.
Yet here this woman was, come to her like prey— like an offering from the forest. With horns like a beast and body of a woman. Only when Bryn turned away fully to grab her kill by the ears, did Fiona step out of the tree-line. Gentle steps and cautious distance being overtaken as she stopped just behind the crouched archer.
“ can’t you speak, archer? “
“ are you a nymph, come to sway me for my kill? “
Fiona paused, her eyes went wide as the setting sun lowered further- allowing the both of them to finally meet eye to eye as archer stood.
Fiona would have to tilt her head slightly, to meet face to face with the broad woman. It didn’t bother her quite as much as her words, which she had to fight a chuckle in response to.
“ a…nymph, you say?
I’m flattered you think so.
No, archer, I am no nymph.
Nor do I seek your kill.
I’m simply curious as to the identity of such a mighty warrior. “
Brynhilder’s eye narrowed, she had no trust in this strangely beautiful woman. The forest had always provided, yes, but not every prey was a meek one.
However, she had to admit— her own mind wandered in curiosity after curiosity over this woman. Who she was, why she bore horns, how she could remain so clean in the forests fog. They pilled up until she could no longer handle the uncertainty, and despite the situations underlying strangeness- she wanted to open up.
“ …I am Brynhilder Vilulf. “
Bryn watched as the woman before her hummed, and eyed her up and down shamelessly. Before her eyes landed on her fresh kill, making Bryn freeze. ‘Had she lied? Did she truly wish to steal it?’ The thought wasn’t particularly threatening, however, it would greatly anger Brynhilder to lose her earned prey.
“ do you have a place to handle that kill, Brynhilder? “
Fiona waited patiently as the red haired archer before her stood in silence, debating her answer. Brynhilder meanwhile, was struggling to even think. For some reason despite having already looked her over, the longer she stood in this woman’s presence the more her own rationality went out the door.
It wasn’t long spent in the awkward silence, before Fiona realized that Bryn didn’t in fact- have somewhere to handle her kill. It may have even worked out more in her favour, for that to be. One could say, she had the help of the gods in order to sway such a cautious hunter.
“ how about a deal then, Brynhilder?
If you’ll allow me to give you shelter,
I wouldn’t mind offering my home to you. “
Bryn was still just as enamoured with the woman before her as she had been before, only now her words were beginning to ring bells— or sway flags. Those of an enemy ship, were approaching. That or she truly was just a kind, beautiful and strange— stranger.
“ …what is it you seek in return,
stranger? “
Fiona smiled, and her hand slid down her carefully wrapped dress- ‘adjusting’ it. To any man who could’ve seen, it would’ve been immensely tempting. To Brynhilder, it looked like a threat. As if she was insinuating she was capable of protecting herself, that such feeble clothing would not hold her back. The thought was extremely…arousing, actually.
Fiona only assumed Bryn could understand her small temptations, when in reality Brynhilder caught onto nothing of the sort. She was like a moth to a flame, only entranced by the light and oblivious to the heat as she approached.
” I ask nothing of you,
only that you keep me company this night— Brynhilder.
Let us be strangers no longer. You may call me Fiona, Fiona Gilman. “
It sounds like nothing short of a lie, a deceit to get Bryn to drop her guard. But would it truly be so undoing? With her soft words, her daring tone and angelic features? If she were to be a cruel wolf in sheep’s clothing, maybe Bryn wouldn’t mind being her prey.
The wind seems to pick up, urging the red head to hurry with her decision. The gods weren’t patient, they wished for this union to consummate. Or, at least Fiona did. Maybe it was a little hasty, perhaps it was audacious of her to so openly want this archer she just met. But was it truly so bad? She couldn’t help the desire that pooled in her stomach, seeing her focused expression as she shot that rabbit dead. The tinge of longing that struck, hoping she could look at her that way.
Fiona had never felt so drawn to a person before, no man nor woman had ever stirred such a feverish fire in her core. Brynhilder struck her in a lasting way, like that of an arrow in the leg. Pain everlasting, the reminder always there. The way her arms moved as she pulled back her bow, the stretch of muscle- the way it moved with her as she rest after such a tense state. Her mind would only wander along the river of desire, imagining the way she would hold her so securely above and beneath her.
Then there was that quiet voice inside of her- it was solely devoted to her servitude, which whispered similarly sinful thoughts. If she were able to keep such an archer, her offerings could increase and she wouldn’t have to fear wandering the forest as she often did. Such a thing could only be done if she was successful in swindling the woman before her, who at the time seems indifferent to her provocation.
” how far from the forest do you
reside? “
Fiona snaps from her thoughts, swallowing to avoid the way her mouth watered. She was extremely pleased Brynhilder was considering it, now she just needed to reel in her catch.
” from the forest?
Oh no, I reside inside. Follow me, Brynhilder. “
Brynhilder raised a brow, holding her kill a little tighter as Fiona turned away. She hadn’t realized it, but she was growing used to the feeling of those jewel like eyes on her. God, what was this growing feeling of—dread? Longing? Her mind was a swarm of complex feelings, and she tried to make sense of them as she followed after the priestess.
Despite her more irrational thoughts remaining prevalent, she could still manage a few cautious thoughts as well. Such a woman lived in the forest? Alone? Her mind wasn’t oblivious to the now growing insinuation that this person was more then she appeared, even though she did appear as…quite a bit.
” you live alone, Fiona? “
Bryn couldn’t see it, as she lingered a few steps behind the priestess, but Fiona would grin after she asked. Perhaps this archer was not so uninterested as she appeared, perhaps this meant Fiona had a greater chance at swaying her then she first believed.
” I do. I always have, really.
and you? Where do you come from? “
Bryn paused, thinking over wether she actually wanted to be truthful with her or not. It was already obvious, and Fiona herself had stated she looked like she didn’t belong. This reasoning was what led Bryn to sigh, and roll her shoulders, making them crack quietly.
” overseas. I came from overseas. “
Fiona would look back after she said so, mouth falling slightly agape with pure curiosity. She had met people who had travelled before, but from overseas? Hardly anyone even survived a trip on land, but by sea? This archer was certainly even more astonishing then even she had already deduced.
The two would continue idle chat, as they moved through the forest- entering thicker and thicker patches of woods until it was all that could be seen. Then, the sight of smoke coming from a small stone cottage alerted Bryn of the destination.
It was simple, something Brynhilder was sure she had seen a similar version of. The fact the chimney was so clearly allowing clouds of smoke escape- only further proved to Bryn that this woman had no fear. Otherwise, she would be desperate to hide her traces in the area.
” welcome to my home. “
Fiona wouldn’t pause as they entered the small clearing around her home, she was eager to get inside before night began. She opened the heavy wooden door without trouble, surprising the archer as she cautiously took a step inside. Kill still held in hand at her side.
Like stepping into another world, the second Bryn was fully through the door and Fiona stepped in behind her— all of her senses were attacked. A strong, lingering yet calming smell filled her nose. Her eyes were drawn in each direction, to candles, plants, bones and books. Even her skin was startled, as Fiona brushed past her.
The longer she stood at the door, the more she wanted to leave. Not because she had any fear, or felt overwhelmed- but purely because her body was relaxing so quickly it sent her into a panic. She felt at home, in a completely new place. Even in the familiar forest, never had she felt so comfortable.
” you can set down your kill,
and take a seat if you’d like.
I’ll set the fire— “
” -no, I can start the fire.
would you like to handle the kill? “
Fiona was stunned for a moment, Bryn had seemed so uninterested- for her to suddenly propose that so simply…was relieving? It was also quite intriguing, but so was everything the red head did. With a simple nod, Fiona slid off her shawl and gently took the offered rabbit- speaking a few words of thanks as she moved to the small counter.
For two women, just recently strangers- the two worked quite well in unison. Fiona couldn’t complain, in fact- seeing Brynhilder familiarize herself was quite the stirring sight. It distracted her from the usually daunting task of cleaning and preparing an animal, which was quite a big feat. Brynhilder herself was sweating in disbelief, as she worked at piling up wood- and grabbing a small lit candle nearby.
It was…domestic. Something that reminded her of home, but not quite. Her home had never been this peaceful, it had never left her wanting to do something just to fill the void. Never.
Brynhilder would start the fire without qualm, and Fiona would eventually finish prepping her kill. Soon the two sat before the fire, sitting on a bunch of pillows, blankets and drapes Bryn believed Fiona used as a bed. The rabbit was slowly cooking, the smell still barely strong enough to pierce through whatever incense or candle aroma Fiona had permanently lingering throughout.
Brynhilder was tense, despite being relaxed significantly by whatever outward force haunted this place. Her arms were folded before her chest, and her eye never left the fireplace. She was terrified to look at Fiona again, scared to become enraptured in a place she was too relaxed to control her actions entirely. Meanwhile, Fiona was unashamed with her stares. She would study Brynhilder from the head, to her heel. Her jaw, her shoulders and her eyepatch. The small portion of skin she could see of her legs, the temptation she felt to reach out. To feel, if the archer truly had such muscle all over.
Fiona shifted where she sat, laying back only slightly. She did so in a way that her dress would shift too, exposing the fold covering her legs and freeing them from the thin white fabric. In this position she would wait, simply admiring the archer beside her.
Brynhilder could feel her stare, she could. No longer could she ignore it, but she was far too afraid to return it. What kind of look did Fiona have? How was she sitting? Bryn feared she wouldn’t be able to survive if she turned to meet a knife to the back, or to see a open pair of arms.
Fiona had said she was ready for the long game, she told herself that she wouldn’t be forceful with her advances. After all, she truly couldn’t read how the red head was feeling. But even she had her limits, and right here- she was meeting them.
The air seemed to freeze itself, as Fiona sat up- and leaned over. The first thing to enter Brynhilder’s vision were those magnificent horns, and maybe it was then that she finally realized what this meeting had become.
Brynhilder felt like the rabbit. Fiona was the archer in this moment, those eyes pierced her soul as she moved before her. And her hands, her fingers which slowly found the sides of Bryn’s arms- they were the bow. Each touch drew the string farther back, in preparation of the final shattering blow. And Bryn let her, like the rabbit- Bryn was her knowing prey. How could she not be?
When the woman before her was so calm, so gentle— like the flowers she mentioned earlier. When her own aroma pierced Brynhilder’s mind, painting everything a lighter shade. Those sunlight coloured curls became gold, and those jewel like eyes turned into the sea. Brynhilder was trapped, and she didn’t mind it one bit. She may be stranded on a small ship, fighting monstrous waves- but even the sea god themselves may pause their destruction in sight of Fiona’s beauty.
” …Brynhilder?
do you remember, when I asked you to spend the night with me? “
Bryn’s one eye was wide, and her mouth would open- then close repeatedly for a time. This was…too close. The archer couldn’t tell if it was the fire making her warm, or the proximity of the priestess.
Certainly, this wasn’t really happening to her. This was the one thing Brynhilder could repeat coherently in her mind. Even as Fiona leaned closer, pulling Bryn down just slightly to meet her. Fiona gently guided Brynhilder’s arms apart, slowly letting them rest at her side- where the priestess’s own hands would tangle with the archers.
” I wish for us to spend this night entangled, as one. Won’t you be mine, Brynhilder? “
Bryn could no longer avoid the truth, and the truth was this couldn’t be avoided any longer. The two had been dancing around this tension, this fire, and it had only begun burning brighter during the process. She found her eye darting around Fiona’s face, down to her chest- and the way her dress hardly covered a thing now. This was the precise moment she had given up all apprehension.
The fire bathed Fiona in a new light, shadows only causing her to become more pronounced. With a deep swallow, Brynhilder stole one of her hands back—and quickly tore the eyepatch from her face. It was tossed aside with such ferocity, even Fiona flinched in surprise.
” do you say such still?
do you wish, still, to spend a night with me? Even with this? “
Surely, Brynhilder thought, surely she would resign. It wasn’t an easy sight, her scarred face she wore so proudly- easily disgusted any potential partners. Men, especially were quickly turned away. Even ones of her own history, taught in a similar fashion. If even they stayed away, surely this delicate woman- created by the gods- would turn away as well.
silence reigned supreme for a moment, until eventually Fiona would raise her free hand- and cup Brynhilder’s cheek. Her finger tips ran just below her eye, previously hidden by the eyepatch, now free to be seen. It was a startle, but not for the reasons Brynhilder seemed to think.
” I have horns, and you believe I would fear this…? Such a beautiful sight, my dear archer. The price of your deadly aim, seems to have been an eye- no? “
Brynhilder was speechless, her chest heaved as her eye went wide once more- this time more then simple longing stirred inside her. She wanted to shove Fiona away, but as her fingertips brushed her formerly tender skin— the want grew. This priestess had no care at all for this wound, it almost seemed to further entice her. What a staggering thought.
” I want you, Brynhilder.
allow me the pleasure…? “
Bryn’s breath hitched, as Fiona’s hand dropped- her finger tips traced her collar bones and down, allowing her palm to press gently against the left peak of her chest. Through the fabric of her dress, it was hardly an arousing touch- but did it need to be? When every other aspect and feeling right this moment- was?
Brynhilder wouldn’t respond, but she didn’t entirely need too. They both knew she was capable of pulling away, of pushing Fiona off. She wasn’t. That alone, had Fiona growing more and more confident in her pursuit.
” do you…know how this works…?
my archer? “
Fiona completely pressed against Brynhilder, pushing her back into the amalgamation of pillows and blankets. She was breathless, but so was Bryn. Despite her moving so slowly, despite her making sure to be gentle— Brynhilder felt like everything was moving so fast. Then again, a huge part of her wasn’t complaining.
As Bryn’s hair hit the blanket below, Fiona’s head lowered— resting in the air just above Brynhilder’s own. Fiona’s hands still held the archers calloused one’s, gently holding them down. She wanted her like this, and this is how she would have her. At least, for now.
The heavy, laboured breaths they took merely left one pair of lips and slipped past the other. Another exchange, Brynhilder noted. Her eye kept darting from Fiona’s piercing gaze- to her plump lips. Soft, they looked inviting.
” …I’ve never… “
The quiet whisper awoke something deeper in Fiona, and she would nod slowly- one hand leaving its post to gently thumb Brynhilder’s cheek. She understood, and now she knew exactly how slow she needed to take this. No matter how she felt about it, that mattered least right now.
” trust me, alright?
I can teach you. “
No further words needed to be spoken, all that needed to be said had been. Brynhilder was still in a daze, overwhelmed not only by these soft- comforting touches but also Fiona’s steadfast reassurance. As Fiona’s body began to weigh more heavily atop Bryn’s own, the sudden realization of what she intended to do caused the red head to stir.
” shh, lay back. “
The gentle flowery aroma only grew the closer the two became, and as Fiona’s bare legs shift between Brynhilder’s clothed ones— the smell became all Bryn could focus on. She couldn’t focus on the way her hands fell, how they pulled on the fabric covering her chest. Until her sleeves gave way, and her shoulders felt the warm air freely. When she shivered with anticipation as Fiona’s hair danced across her skin— the feeling of her lips against her chest as she tugged the dress down was too much. She simply couldn’t focus on it, or she feared she may faint.
the priestess’s horns were threateningly close to her face, yet she couldn’t focus on that either. It was like herself wasn’t herself, as if her very soul was drifting from her physical prison. Or maybe, she was simply embarrassed.
it wasn’t long before Brynhilder was completely bare, spare her stockings and underwear. Her dress was (gently) tossed aside, and the second it had been Fiona was quick to be all over her muse once more. Her hands gently ran over and caressed the expanses of bare- slightly scarred skin. Her finger tips spent a few extra moments resting over any scars, most predominantly those on her stomach.
and of course, the touch would only cause Bryn’s chest to stagger more. She stuttered, mind struggling to keep up with Fiona’s wandering hands. Stomach, arms, chest, hands and legs. They were everywhere, until they felt like the very clothes Brynhilder now missed.
breaths grew laboured, and while Brynhilder was having an out of body experience- Fiona was throughly enjoying the moment. Every so often she would allow her eyes to dart upwards, catching sight of Brynhilder’s expression and it would stir the fire in her gut every-time. Her cheeks were the same red as her hair, a glowing red almost as warm as the fire cackling behind them.
Fiona’s hands would only cease their wandering as they found Brynhilder’s hips. Which she would hold tightly, while she brought her own to match. With their legs intertwined, hands holding each others skin tight and chests pressed close enough to mold- all that was left to do weighed heavily on Fiona’s mind.
Meanwhile, Brynhilder was losing her mind- to keep it simple. The way Fiona so easily overcame all of her walls, all of her hesitations— it left her dumbfounded and raw. She felt like an open wound, one she couldn’t possibly cover.
one thing was certain between them, both bodies were eager to explore the other. And so, without any further qualms, Fiona would trace her lips across the skin her fingertips had already wandered. Leaving gentle, lasting kisses along Brynhilder’s collar and even teasing her way down to her chest. Perhaps it wasn’t the proper order of things to begin kissing such an intimate place, but what part of this meeting was proper at all?
Without further delay, Fiona ignored Bryn’s hesitant gasp as her lips trailed down the peak of soft skin- eventually they would wrap around and softly pinch at the already hardened pink-ish bud. Needles pierced Bryn’s skin, soon they would turn to gentle waves of new- but welcomed pleasure as Fiona sucked softly. It was embarrassing, it was new. Yet the longer it went on, the lesser Brynhilder wanted it to stop.
It was something primal, an animal like urge to keep going. To see how far they could go, to see how far Fiona was willing to go. What more could she do? How much more could she make Brynhilder feel? Bryn’s lips pressed together to try and muffle her growing responsive voice, but pale in comparison to the pure need. Even as her teeth dug into soft skin and even as they would draw small dots of blood— her voice persevered.
The sound of her pleasure only drove Fiona to suck harder, to please more. Her right hand would snake up Bryn’s bare torso- teasing her skin as her finger tips gently circled her untouched bud. It peaked higher in response, eager to receive the same attention as the one in Fiona’s mouth— even if it could not. To compensate, Fiona gently pinched and pulled at it, even rubbing around it at some point. Anything to give a remotely similar feeling to her mouth, which was still sucking and twirling around Bryn’s nipple in her mouth.
Fiona would do this for a short moment, and then lift away only to give the opposite bud the same attention. It was incredibly satisfying, in a unique and gentle way. It wasn’t what Brynhilder had imagined, with how forward Fiona had been until now. Then again, this was only the beginning of a long— clearly tiring night.
As Brynhilder watched the priestess work, she began to think. Her eyes trailed down to the woman’s own chest- to the soft and tempting plump breasts which barely remained contained in the thin fabric of her silk gown. If she focused long enough, she could even see the outline of small buds already. Was Fiona also satisfied by this—? Even if Bryn had not yet made a move to return her affections?
Even if she was, Brynhilder found herself a little disheartened by the thought. After all, how fair was it of an exchange for her alone to bear all the pleasure? Her eyes flickered from Fiona’s pleased and warm expression as she teased her chest- down to the woman’s own. Before she knew it, her hands had risen up to cup her chest gently- palms moulding around each breast just to caress it gently.
Fiona pulled away with a ‘pop’ as she noticed, growing a small and gentle but knowing smile. Bryn was like a newborn baby, eager for something they couldn’t quite understand— but knew they needed. Without any further words, Fiona fell back onto her knees and positioned herself above the archer.
Bryn would once again, watch with awe and shock as Fiona undressed. Her thin dress slipped off like water, and it pooled around her ankles to show ‘nothing’ underneath. The priestess was completely bare.
” What do you think,
Brynhilder? “
what did she think? Her mind could hardly register the question, eyes and mind ogling the godly woman before her. She hadn’t noticed before, but some of the markings Bryn assumed were paint— they seemed to run much lower than she thought. Down her sides, to her stomach, trailing to her thighs- and of course above the short patch of light blonde hair just above her pelvis. They seemed to tell a story, one Brynhilder couldn’t decipher.
” I…I…”
Fiona let out a soft laugh, as her body fell to rest above Bryn’s once more. The two more inexplicably intertwined then ever. It was now that Fiona believed she could finally begin to satiate her growing thirst, as her lips found Brynhilder’s collar. She would pecker kisses, nip every so often- until she became numb with the feeling. Brynhilder was mostly lenient, she would gasp and her hands would grab hold of Fiona’s waist whenever she bit too hard- but she never risked pushing her away.
She couldn’t risk her stopping completely, she had the feeling her very life depended on it.
Fiona’s lips trailed along Brynhilder’s skin, leaving her mark. Eventually, they trailed up the side of her neck— and allowed her to gently nibble on and whisper into the archer’s ear.
” your mine, aren’t you?
aren’t you, my archer? “
Bryn was wide eyed, red and almost felt completely like an animal trapped in a predators teeth. But…she knew she needed this. She knew she needed Fiona, while she didn’t know how or why— she simply knew. That’s why her hands creeped further down her sides, trailing from her waist all the way to her hips.
For a quick passing moment, it felt like Brynhilder was holding the centre of the world. Like she was holding her very first bow, and aiming for her first kill. This brought some calm serenity to her— just in time to notice Fiona’s hands slipping down her body as well.
Fiona’s lips remained beside her ear and her fingers tips would wander— teasing the skin of her stomach and navel. Then they went lower. Down to her hips, to her thighs— where she would grab firmly and then pull them apart.
Bryn let out an involuntary gasp, and tried to close them. A venture that would’ve been successful due to her strength— if Fiona didn’t slide herself down and eventually rest her head between them. She couldn’t possibly close them now, with such a precious thing between.
” it’s alright, trust me.
Just close your eyes. “
Brynhilder didn’t want to, of course. To trust someone was to allow them to stab you in the back, and Fiona was certainly in a place to stab worse than that. Then again, she was desperate. She knew Fiona could cure this aching heat, as she had been the one to set it off.
Like an obedient dog, Bryn closed her eyes and compromised. She brought one hand to Fiona’s head, and gently took hold of one of her horns. At least this way, she would feel it before she tried to hurt her. This amused Fiona, who simply leaned into the touch.
With Bryn blissfully unaware, Fiona was able to go about her work in peace. Even if the archer had a tight, near murderous grip on her curled horn— Fiona was willing to sacrifice such for even just one night with this woman.
She left one hand to press against one of Bryn’s inner thighs, keeping them apart as she lowered her face to be directly before her obvious heat. As much as she wanted to simply dive in, it wouldn’t be right for a first timer. So with some apprehension, Fiona brought her fingers to the edge of her underwear— pulling and teasing the fabric before allowing it to snap back.
Brynhilder gasped, and just when her eyes were about to tear open in shock— a guttural and deep sound of pleasure would escape instead as Fiona’s fingers pressed hard against the wetting fabric and teased the bundle of nerves just below.
It wasn’t enough, Bryn knew that already— but it was ‘something’ and she had been aching for anything. The added friction from the fabric of her underwear, the pressure plus the quick moments of Fiona’s fingers, it was enough. Enough to cause her lips to part permanently, enough for her head to fall back farther- unashamed.
the more Bryn expressed herself the more Fiona became desperate to please, she used the pad of her finger to tease for a few moments before adding another to pinch and pull lightly. All of it sent the nerves in Brynhilder’s body on edge, shifting and twisting in place but never pulling away. She wouldn’t dare.
” please…agh— “
Fiona’s head tilted up a moment, tearing her gaze from Bryn’s covered heat to watch her expressions. The pointed gaze she met sent a shiver down the priestess’s spine. It was that look, the same look she had as she shot that rabbit true. She’d finally earned it, finally.
” stop…playing… “
With a chuckle, Fiona slid her hands away. She’s grab the sides of her underwear, and gently pull them down her legs— pulling back with them in order to get them off completely. Once they slipped from her ankles, Fiona tossed them behind her. After all, they wouldn’t be needed them for awhile.
Brynhilder had used all the patience she could muster, before Fiona was even slotting herself between her legs again-she had parted them. Spread her thighs wide, hands resting on her knees to keep them parted. Fiona was pleased by the sight, and was more than happy to lay down between them again, her fingers reaching out for the warm and wet heat which lay before her. Now only covered by a mere curly bush of red hair, Fiona slipped through it easily.
” so wet my dear,
all because of me? “
Bryn grew redder after Fiona’s coo, she didn’t like being spoken too so sweetly. But the embarrassment wouldn’t last long, as another feeling would creep up and out of her mouth— making an audible gasp of relief and…pleasure?
Fiona slotted her finger directly between her folds, using the red head’s near dripping heat to her advantage as she explored everything she could not before. Every once in awhile she would give up her mapping, and tease Bryn’s bundle of nerves once more— making sure she was still enjoying this as much as Fiona was.
” a—ah wait…are you—? “
Fiona looked up, and realizing she’d been caught. Brynhilder was looking down at her wide eyed- her eyes narrowed specifically on the fact only one of Fiona’s hands was pleasing her. The other…had snuck between the priestess’s own legs. She didn’t know when, but apparently she must’ve been for awhile. Fiona herself, looked on the brink of ecstasy.
With a sheepish grin, Fiona decided to not let Brynhilder dwell on it. She took one finger, and dragged it lightly down between her folds— only stopping once she felt the familiar slope of an eager, inviting hole. She merely dipped the tip of her finger in, and Brynhilder was already gapping for air like a suffocating fish- either out of pure need or pure embarrassment once again.
” Fiona— “
Bryn held onto Fiona’s horn tight once again, bringing her other hand to follow this time. With a secure hold on Fiona’s head, Fiona felt she was ready and pushed her finger fully inside of the archer. The second she had, Brynhilder moaned shakily- her knees flexing as her whole body shivered. It didn’t feel extraordinary— not like how it felt when she’d been teasing her earlier— but it ‘was’ something. It hurt, a little, but in a good way. A ‘really’ good way.
Fiona enjoyed the feeling of her inner walls for a moment, moving her finger just lightly- curling it one or twice to help Bryn adjust. The preistess didn’t know if she had ever gone this far before, as far as she knew this was the archer’s first everything. Even if it wasn’t, god did it turn her on to look at her now. The red head was as red as her hair, breaths almost visible from how heavy they were. To know Fiona was the one making her this way, it was such a beautiful thought.
Her own fingers moved faster in circles between her folds, trying to match pace as she moved her finger in- and out slowly. Trying to remind herself to take it slow, as her second finger moved closer to Bryn’s entrance.
” you’re perfect. “
Bryn was far too busy focused on Fiona’s finger, to notice what she had said. However, she did notice as Fiona’s second finger began to slide in alongside her first- moving at the same slow yet deep pace. It stung for a mere moment, before it began to settle into pure pleasure. It felt like her very insides were clutching around her fingers, molding around them eagerly— inviting them in. Was this supposed to happen? Or was her body as desperate for Fiona as Bryn was?
Fiona wound up reaching her own climax, her own breaths growing heavier as she spasmed a little. In order to combat it, she simply moved her own fingers faster inside Bryn— and against herself. As not to alarm her partner, she let her head fall down just above where her fingers were penetrating—and pressed her lips against the very top of Brynhilder’s folds.
Fiona was ‘very’ experienced in this, so continuing even during overstimulation was simply as easy as breathing for her. Still, she had to distract herself with her current muse to keep going— and to do so she allowed her tongue to slip out and lick a hot stripe between Brynhilder’s wet folds. Taking the sweet, sticky heat into her mouth and relishing in the taste she’d only fantasized about.
The archer’s taste was enough to take her mind away from her shaking fingers as she pressed into her own heat— further and further until she could feel her own insides at the same time as the woman beneath her. In a way, it was like they were connected and the tie was Fiona’s fingers. She felt so much power in this moment, each deep thrust of her fingers making a grunt or moan fall from Brynhilder’s lips.
She could try her best, even as her lips took firm shape between Bryn’s folds and allowed her to suck almost obsessively. It’s like she wanted to drink Brynhilder whole, and she ‘was’—in a way. Her fingers dug deeper and deeper inside of the red head, until they eventually found the sweet spot that made her gasp loudest. The more she made Bryn gasp, moan and scream- the more her mouth could suck and swallow at the same time.
Fiona kept this up, until her hands couldn’t handle the strain. As she herself fought breathlessness from her own ‘self entertainment’, she continued to put Brynhilder first. Her fingers gently pulled away from her warm and wet heat— which earned a groan of protest.
Fiona wouldn’t mind the left over remnants, she had half a mind to lick her fingers clean and embarrass the archer more. Alas, she was still desperate for more of a taste.
” remember what I said-? “
Brynhilder rolled her head forward, looking down at the priestess as her fingers took bruising grip on the archers inner thighs. Her mouth was lowered just above her need once more, and Bryn could only imagine what came next. This time, however, a few more thoughts came to mind.
During this moment, everything else had faded to blur. The fire, the pillows- even their bodies. Brynhilder could only focus on Fiona’s expression, and her lips as they inched closer to her core once again. She shivered, body trembling as it fought against her hands— which were unyielding.
” tru-st… “
Like an animal, breathless and almost seemingly ’tireless’—Fiona pressed her mouth against Brynhilder’s core completely, mouth finally taking in the full flavour of her sweet, but strong ambrosia. To any normal person, Fiona’s hunger would’ve been alarming—and perhaps on some level it was to Bryn as well. But, she was just too far gone to care.
Brynhilder’s head shot back once more, maybe for the tenth or fifteenth time of the night. She felt everything, her tongue which swirled around her nerves, the tip of the muscle as it dipped just a little into the (now) (slightly) stretched out hole of her insides. She could feel when Fiona desperately tried to suck it all back, and hear when she swallowed. Never before, had Brynhilder ever felt so wanted— literally.
this would continue, until Brynhilder couldn't take it any longer. Her hands would tighten hard enough around Fiona’s horns to alarm even the priestess. She pulled away with dripping lips, and a slightly sticky and red jaw. Her eyes were narrowed with concern, until they went wide at the sight of the red faced— now angry archer.
” Brynhilder…? “
Bryn shook her head, and instead finally found her own voice again. As if the cloud of submission over her had faded— or perhaps, the effects of an airborne aphrodisiac had subsided. One shaky hand left Fiona’s horn and wrapped instead tightly around her neck.
” I—what-?? Bryn- “
” quiet. “
Brynhilder gave a tight, warning squeeze. It made Fiona silence immediately, her eyes wide not only with fear, but arousal once again. Feeling the pure strength in the archers grip…it had her hand inching back down between her legs. Before she could work away at herself again, like some desperate whore, Brynhilder put her other hand to work.
” enough games.
I don’t know what you did, but I…have had enough of this. “
the archer was quick, she grabbed the wrist of Fiona’s desperate hand and kept her tight hold on her neck— using both to her advantage as she flipped them around. Pressing Fiona down into the blankets and pillows, swapping their positions completely.
Now it was Brynhilder on top, Brynhilder in control. Fiona felt a flick of fear for a moment, until she felt clumsy but steady fingers tugging her thighs apart roughly.
This was how it should’ve been, but for some reason until now…Brynhilder had felt so passive. It must’ve been a spell, maybe this woman whom appeared so godly was really a ‘witch’. But, at this moment in time— Brynhilder didn’t care. She just wanted her to know who ‘really’ belonged below the other.
Brynhilder was…awkward at first. Her fingertips didn’t really know what to touch- or how hard to press down as they slipped into and against Fiona’s core. The priestess would gasp softly anyway, her hands coming to grab and gently scratch at Brynhilder’s shoulders.
She tried her best with how long Fiona had spent inside and around her own, drawing circles around the small hood of nerves that made herself spasm- sending a bunch of shockwaves through the ‘very’ stimulated priestess. Fiona was so stimulated in fact, that her mind began to go numb. She couldn’t even plead for Brynhilder to do more- couldn’t even cry out to tell her how well she was doing.
” pathetic…can’t even hold out this long—? “
Fiona was confused, her brows furrowing as her expression would shift like water— body tensing and relaxing with every move of Bryn’s finger tips. She tried to look down and see past her own ecstasy but she just couldn’t. All she could see was Brynhilder’s pointed, and somehow put together expression.
How had the archer recovered so inhumanly fast—? Was she too, blessed by some-
Fiona couldn’t finish her thought as two strong and straightened fingers were shoved past her lightly teased entrance. Her walls, and her throat— gapped at the sudden intrusion.
” w—wait— no, too fast, you-“
” too fast? Tsk.
lay back. “
When Fiona didn’t comply, Bryn made her. She slammed her fingers down into her heat, all the way to the knuckles- and of course- that sent Fiona’s head flying backwards into the pillows below. Her body going suddenly limp, as she near saw stars. This whole time, she’d merely reached a simple orgasm and edged herself the rest of the way— that was what she was used to. But this? This was the real, full thing.
This was Brynhilder actively threatening to make Fiona cum, over and over again. It didn’t need to be said, Fiona felt it with every rough and careless thrust from Bryn’s fingers. At one point, her fingers would even press purposefully against her innermost walls— finding sensitive spots that made Fiona’s toes curl into the blankets.
” seriously..? After all you did to me? You can’t even handle this…? “
’What in gods name just happened??’ Fiona wondered. Sure, she brought Brynhilder here knowing she’d be affected by the atmosphere— and yeah, she may have been a tad pushy. But for this woman to make a complete turn around, flip them over and suddenly make her the bitch? Her mind couldn’t even register it, because of how quickly Brynhilder began to pick up speed.
It was like she meant to tear her open, even adding a third finger at one point. Fiona couldn’t even notify when, because of the pure assault her core was receiving. It was brutal, it left her near screaming in pleasure— but it was also the most she’d felt in ages. No one else had ever gone deeper, or faster— not even herself.
too much was happening, and yet not enough was at the same time. The sounds of Brynhilder’s fingers slamming into Fiona’s now dripping wet cunt we’re loud enough to overcome the fire’s cackling, but they payed it no mind. Bryn kept going, kept digging in until she couldn’t anymore. Until her arm grew tired, until she found herself leaning over the woman below equally as spent.
after all, she ‘had’ already reached her own peak. Or at least, as close to it as she felt comfortable getting too. She didn’t want this night to be only about her, that’s why she felt she needed to…step up. She needed to take charge, to do as Fiona had done to her. Better, if she could.
Brynhilder panted, her breaths a little softer then Fiona’s. Fiona looked like a mess now. The sight made Bryn incredibly happy, and this was when the red head realized what had caused such a similar reaction from the blonde earlier. Seeing someone so…pleased, and knowing you are the cause—it’s certainly tempting.
” Bryn…ah…mm—mmph!
why stop…? Please…need to— “
It was like she couldn’t speak coherently, words simple and quick as they spilled from the priestess’s pink lips. Brynhilder knew what she needed, she herself had been on this edge mere moments before. But was she willing to let the woman below her have it?
Simply put, no. She wasn’t.
Brynhilder slowly pulled her fingers from Fiona’s tight core, it’s as if her walls themselves tried to keep her in but could not— every part of her body tried to keep enticing Bryn further. But, the archer wouldn’t bend knee.
” I—but…you can’t just- “
Brynhilder payed her stuttering no mind, and instead wiped her fingers onto Fiona’s skin—leaving a noticeable amount of remnant on her thigh. Then, with a huff- she pulled herself up to be face to face with the woman who still seemed lost. To stop her legs from shifting, and her body from arching in an attempt to finish— Bryn slid her legs around and between Fiona’s.
” you ‘tricked’ me, this is punishment. “
” b-but…I…I need— “
Bryn huffed, and swiped some hair that was falling forwards— back behind her head once more. She was tired, and she didn’t want to hear anything from Fiona. Especially, a complaint.
Still, the blonde kept stuttering- kept trying to whine and beg her way back into Brynhilder’s graces. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be happening. However, Bryn wasn’t entirely a heartless woman.
Fiona ‘had’ pleased her well, and even if she’d humiliated the archer in doing so…she was a very beautiful creature. In the few short moments Bryn remained hovering above the still staggering priestess— she realized one thing.
She never did get to eat her prized rabbit, or taste Fiona’s lips. But perhaps, something far more worthwhile was gained.
and of course, right after making the conclusion— she finds herself unable to control the urge. Her head lowers as her hands find the priestess’s hips again, and they tighten until the two ‘finally’ kiss.