Sorcerer from Another World

Her soft lips parted from mine all too soon. 

I stood up and my creaking bones and aching joints protested. I leaned on my staff and tried to look alive. I gave myself a casual check over and noticed that sweat dripped and blood soaked my body and armour. 

I looked more like the part of a horror movie victim than a badass sorcerer who had saved the day. Worse, I smelt like an obsessive gym goer who never learned to shower.

Morgana was in a similar sweaty, bloody state but looked far sexier than me. A hand resting on her sword hilt, she looked over the surviving warriors. She looked rested with a confident steel to her relaxed expression. She gave off a magical aura of confidence induction and morale boost oozed off of her. 

Byrette’s family of warriors and others looked to her for orders. They were a motley crew of folk of all sizes but each was blooded and bloody now.  

“Glory, my fellow warriors, is yours. The day is not yet won, but this battle is yours forevermore in the songs of our people. When all hope was lost you warriors held the breach and drove off certain destruction.” Morgana told them. 

“We owe it to you!” One called back.

“We are alive because of the Sorcerer. The glory is his.” said Another.

Morgana sparked metal together and silenced the crowd.

“The renown is shared and the honour equal to every one of us. Each threw away their lives at the breach and everyone was born again as legends!... Legends!”

“Legends!” I joined in the rousing calls.  

“Louder! Let the cowardly Unseelie hear your cries.”

“Legends!” we shouted back louder.

“Good. For now scavenge and rest while you can. Stay within sight and do not go beyond eyeline of the breach. Rest, and be prepared for the next assault.” 

“Yes, My Lady Morgana!” 

The warriors dispersed. A few frightened folks came out bringing food, water and company. Some warriors ate, others mourned but most rested and slept. I watched as one of the warriors told two children that their Mother had fought and died bravely protecting them and the fort. Echoing Morgana's words called her a legend. 

I sighed. I felt guilty for trying to leave them and regretful I hadn't done more to protect them. They were foolish feelings. I had done my part and more. But the pain lingered. 

"I need to do more." I said as loud as a whisper.

"And leave none for the rest of us?” She teased. 

“You know what I mean?” I bit back.

“We can’t do partner fights if you do all the fighting and get all the glory.” She said again trying to keep her tone light. 

“I had the power to stop this…”

“No, you don’t.” She said fiercely. “We are outnumbered. You faced your enemy.” She pointed to the breach. “They faced theirs. They died with honour and glory and I will not have you tarnish that. Do you understand, my Paragon?” There was no anger or heat in her voice.

I frowned hearing only sorrow and a gentle plea. 

My eyes downcast, I answered, “I know.” 

She puffed her chest out with pride, “We are legends. They died with glory and there will be no regret or guilt. Only honour.”

“Legends.”

She smiled, “I had over five hundred kills, what did you get fifty?” 

She winked.  

I chuckled, “I did send Maradon, the Lord of Brutality and Deceit fleeing.” 

She stroked her chin, looking deep and thoughtful, “I don’t think that even counts as one.” she flashed a teasing smile.

I reached for her hand and pulled her close, “Is that so?”

I tripped her, and she let herself be thrown. I pinned her, and all the while she smiled back.  

I grinned, “Does that count as one?” 

She pulled me down for a heated kiss, and when we parted she smirked, “I’ll allow it.” 

I grabbed her hand and took her to a more private space. The ruin may not have a roof, but it was unoccupied and out of sight. 

We had a quickie in a ruin. She spread her legs and planted her hands planted on a crumbling wall. First, I pushed her armour up and exposed her bare bum. I lowered my hands from her underboob down her waist to the curves of her massive bubble butt. I grabbed and caressed her smooth ass, which rippled under my touch. Her magically altered cock sleeve soaked under my touch. 

I took her roughly from behind. She was hot and tight. She let out a long satisfied groan upon my entry. My proud smile curved, and I slid in and hugged her tightly as I pushed in deep into her pleasure hole.  She matched my pace and her butt bounced against my hips with rhythm.

Our frantic fucking was hot, sweaty and messy. A desperate joy at living. I thrust in her without abandon, glad to feel her warmth and pleasurable moans. In a matter of minutes, we came together. 

I wiggled my still-hard ‘wand’ inside her feeling every part of her hot core. I lifted her upright and I pushed her against the wall, so her tits were crushed.

“It’s not quite the halls of their ancestors.”

“It will do.” she panted. 

“Again?”

“Oh yes.”

She came from the first pounding. She shuddered on me and I held her from falling. I had no patience to wait, I pulled her wrists to my side, and I fucked her silly. 

“Fuck, you’re the best,” she exclaimed. 

I carried her over to a nearby table, somehow still standing, and placed her down. One leg wide, and the other flat on the floor, I had my way with her again. Slower and more gentle, we ended with a sweet kiss.

Morgana held my hand and took the lead. I walked out bashful red and unable to look anyone in the eye. I grinned like a fool. A fool who was bloody, sweaty and now cum stained. Somehow, I don’t think I gave off the impression of dignity and respect. Nonetheless, the people, warriors and common folk looked to us with deference. 

A large campfire made of rubble had been constructed in our absence. The majority of the warriors rested by the fire. I wasn’t the only one with a happy-go-lucky grin or the lingering scent of sex. We were passed stale bread and fresh water which we consumed gratefully. A little chattered spread, but most sat in silence drifting in and out of waking dreams.