Surrender.

Surrender.
by vivilover69

~

Well, here’s something different. A Freya/Sir Fratley. Just about the only canon pairing I will do. I might do a few more, but I doubt it. Anyway, do enjoy . . . or Sir Fratley will come and chop your heads off.

Sir Fratley: You’d better watch yourselves.

~

He stood on the balcony, only clad in his trousers---he had to put something on, or his cock would quite freeze off. It was winter in Burmecia, and the snows had just begun. The streets, the arches, the trees were limned in white . . .

The snow twinkled down above his head, landing soundlessly on railings and towers. He absently nudged a long whisker into place and began to groom. His battle-yellowed claws rasped against the iron shelf of the balcony, and he turned at the silky sound of sheets moving. “Gizamaluke,” he whispered, “you’ve given me quite a present. Quite a present indeed.”

“Sfratly,” she slurred from the bed. A long, sleekly-muscled leg stirred out of the sheets. He felt his cock stir at the exquisite sight. When had he owned her, this Valkyrie, this goddess in his bed? When had her lips cried his name, so long ago? Was she dreaming of him?

He smelled her. Brandy, and the dark, musky smell she always had . . . but he also smelled himself on her, that vulgar odor, of mildew and dirt . . . of blood---unclean! Not fit to worship a goddess such as her. Not fit to grovel at her feet. Not fit to lick her heel . . . oh, but the smell of her, he wanted to lick far more than her heel . . . he would never be satisfied with the forbidden taste of her, always he needed more, more, more---

“Sir Fratley,” she muzzed out. “I’m cold . . . ”

Unspoken questions hung in the air.

Will you come warm me?

Come and kiss me.

Fondle me, caress me, delve into me . . .

Warm yourself inside me. Wrap your arms around me, warm us together.

Love me.

“I will,” he whispered in the darkness.

He went to her. In the darkness of the room, she stirred upward from the sheets, revealing a pale breast with a flushing red nipple. Gods, but he needed her---needed to plunge himself deep into the succulent warmth of her, the fiery sheath that stirred his blood aflame, the kisses (oh, those drugging kisses), the rasp of her claws against his back, where scratches tingled over the muscle already . . . gods, he would never be satisfied.

Never.

He lowered his muzzle to her and ventured his tongue out, to her nipple. She arched against him, whispering his name. “My goddess,” he breathed lovingly against her. “So perfect you are. So needful. So giving . . . ”

She cried out as his teeth grazed the point of crimson. “Sir Fratley . . . !”

More unspoken questions, entreaties . . .

Please. Kiss me. I need you . . .

Touch me, delve your fingers into me, give me your pleasure . . .

Make love to me with all of your might . . .

“Yes,” he purred gently. “I will give you what you need.” He drew upon the sanguine pebble with his mouth, laved it with his tongue, took it between his teeth and tugged, while his cock throbbed a needful pace against the sheets. Her fingers stirred his hair, pulling him up to her lips. They kissed messily, mouths and tongues seeking one another in a lustful, ravenous affair.

Their lips connected with a thread of saliva as they parted. “Sir Fratley,” she whispered. “Give it to me. I will not be denied.”

When had it begun?

~
Burmecia, six years earlier
Cadets’ Hall

He backed into the wall, pinioned by her steaming mouth. Such a queer thing it was, for him to be overcome by this slip of a girl, only sixteen years old . . .

“Mmmm. Ah---” He gasped for breath, sucked in the musky scent of her and pulled her close. “We shouldn’t---shouldn’t---be doing this, you know that . . . I’m your teacher . . . I’m ten years older than you . . . ”

“Don’t care,” she murred against his chest, her fingers working at the sage material of his coat, then at the black, skintight shirt underneath, pulling it up, kissing muscles tight as bowstrings. He groaned as her fingers unbuckled his belt, flung it to the floor, and returned to his trousers, unbuttoning them and freeing his cock from behind the lacings.

“Freya, what are you---you’re---ooohh . . . ” His head lolled limply back, his breath coming in deep, quick pants as she sucked his cock into her eager, waiting mouth. “Mmmn, yes . . . gods . . . ” The muscles in his abdomen contracted and rolled as she licked and laved his aching shaft, giving special attention to the sensitive head. She stabbed her tongue like a dirk into the little slit, prodded it, milked it, and his voice rumbled out as he pulled her close.

“Lord,” she whispered. “You taste like Mummy’s absinth . . . I had a spoonful of it once, but I think I like this better . . . ” She sucked and licked, and nuzzled the blond curls of hair at his groin, her fingers reaching up to cup his heavy, drawn-up testicles. “Mmmm. No wonder Mummy warned me about you . . . ”

“Your mother . . . warned you about me?” His eyes rolled back. “Gods. My mother should have warned me about you.” He drew his fingers into her hair, gently pushing her away. “I’m going to make an undignified mess if you don’t stop, dear . . . ” He groaned for emphasis and bit his lip. “Freya. Please . . . stop . . . ”

She ignored him, and sucked harder, her tongue lapping at the shivering head.

“I said . . . please . . . ” He growled. “That’s . . . quite . . . enough.” Pulling her up to meet his eyes, he dove at her mouth, kissing, sucking, licking his way between her lips. She clung and moaned as he slid a hand down to caress the steaming little mouth between her legs. A finger dove in, and she wailed.

“Yes, yes, oh gods . . . please, Sir Fratley . . . ”

A smirk curled over his muzzle. “You’ve been a naughty young one,” he whispered in her ear. “I think it’s time for me to discipline you.”

“Yes! Yes!” she gasped. “Discipline me!”

He pushed another finger in to meet the first, and worked them back and forth, up and down inside her. She leaned against his shoulder and sank her teeth into the muscle. “Ah,” she cried. “P-Please . . . ” Her nails raked his back as he pleasured her, and in no time at all she was shivering, quivering, crying out, “Stop, stop . . . I’m going to die . . . !”

“Not quite yet,” he promised and lifted her, thrusting her against the wall. She had only a moment to look at him before he shoved his cock to the hilt in her welcoming slit. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a soft, quivering moan escaped her flushed lips.

“Oh, Sir Fratley, gods . . . it’s so . . . big . . . ” Sticky moisture slid down her folds to pool itself on his cock. She wailed and arched up as he pulled out, then thrust in, hard. His fingers found her clitoris and caressed it into a shivering knot, and she keened.

“Yes . . . yes . . . please . . . ” She wrapped her legs around his tight buttocks and pulled him close as he began a deep, uneven pace of thrusts. “Gods yes . . . I . . . ”

“You what?” His smirk returned.

“I’m . . . I’m . . . lord, it’s so good . . . ” She whined and moaned, pleaded and cursed, as he thrust and delved. “I’ve been a terrible student, seducing my teacher . . . what will the others think?” She mewled as he captured her lips with his, his cadence quickening. “Mmmm,” she gasped as their lips parted. “Deeper. Harder!” Her knees buckled, and both she and the High Dragon Knight tumbled to the rainy floor.

They rolled over the wet floor, to the archway, and he groaned as the rain cooled his aching back. “Freya,” he whispered lovingly, and sank deeper into her, harder, the shelf of his chin rustling her hair. “Mmm. Gods. I’m not going to last long if you keep clawing me like that,” he admonished.

“Don’t care,” she whispered and raked her claws into his buttocks, pulling him closer, closer still . . . “All I want is you,” she breathed as he lowered his head to her nipple and sucked it lustily.

Her sheath quivered around him as he panted, driving deeper, harder, faster, and her moans split the air.

“Lord! Sir Fratley, I’m . . . I’m . . . ”

“Yes?” he rasped.

“ . . . coming . . . it’s coming . . . ” She turned her head against the stone floor, keening, wailing as he plowed in and out.

“Surrender,” he whispered. “Surrender to me.” Her sheath squeezed him tightly, milking him closer to release. Tight, tight, so tight, and wet, and soffft . . . !

“Say it.”

“I . . . ” She moaned. “Gods!”

“Say it . . . !”

“Yes . . . gods yes . . . I . . . ”

He impaled her deep on his cock, snapping his hips against her. Slick, smooth, musky wetness flooded his cock, and he bit his lip, his hips bucking forward and back, release so close he was at the cusp of a shining, fiery peak . . .

Two voices cried as one . . .

“I surrender . . . !”

~

He blinked at the memory. Was this why she felt so drawn to him, why she’d sought him out? He felt as though he were being carried away by a Valkyrie, fast as the hooves of Slepnir, into a world he had no consciousness of.

Beside him, she quietly snuffled into the pillow, weary. He gazed at her for a good long second, his fingers stroking her white-furred cheek, and whispered in the darkness:

“Freya, I love you . . . with my life, how I love you . . . ”