Chapter Text
It began with a simple question— well, it didn’t, but the timing made it look like it did.
In the middle of a busy town street, holding countless bags of purchased goods, Fern turns to her master Frieren with a worried frown.
“I’m not sure about that bread we bought earlier. Didn’t it look stale? It was all hard and bumpy…”
The elf stops dead in her tracks, almost dropping her bags on the floor.
Hard. Bumpy. Hard and bumpy. The average person would never find their mind thrown in the gutter from someone posing a weird question about a bad piece of bread to them, but Frieren is not the average person. Frieren is a virgin elf who’s never had any experience on the matter and who’s been enduring hundreds of years of self-imposed abstinence. That question throws her composure off and immediately makes her lower crotch sizzle. She knew it was only a matter of time before her mating cycle would awaken for the first time and claim hold of her body, but she wasn’t expecting it to happen because of a cheap loaf of bread.
“Was it really all hard and bumpy?” Frieren asks calmly after a long pause.
“Look.” Fern juggles through the bags and fetches the one with the bakery logo stamped on its side. She sinks her hand inside and retrieves a long piece of stale baguette. She is clearly upset about being scammed by a fourth-tier baker. “See? It’s barely edible.”
Frieren focuses on the way her apprentice’s fingers tightly wrap around the piece of bread. “It looks… As hard as a rock.”
“It is.”
“I see.” She gulps down, her throat suddenly dry. She can’t take her eyes away from the way Fern seems to be stroking that baguette. Of course, there’s nothing inappropriate with how the human is touching that bread, but Frieren’s perverted mind doesn’t care. ‘How awful of my only pupil to tease me like that’, she thinks.
“Fern, I’m feeling tired. I’m going back to the inn to get some rest. Could you be so kind as to finish our errands without me? Here’s a list of all the things we still need.”
“You’re a real sleepyhead.”
“Well, could you?” She asks again, now sounding impatient.
“Leave it to me. Could you bring these bags back to our room, at least?”
Pretending not to have heard her request, Frieren is already walking away in a hurry. When she’s sure to have made it out of Fern’s sight, she even starts running. Eyes wide, breathing jagged, shaky legs, all the way to the inn. She’s confident Stark won’t be back until the evening, meaning she has their room all to herself for at least a few hours. That thought alone is enough to get her heart racing.
The elf sprints upstairs and locks herself inside. Kissed by the sunrays seeping from the window, she begins stripping down.
Frieren was aware her species goes through mating cycles. They’re rare and unpredictable, often starting and ending out of nowhere, but when they hit they completely claim the bodies of the unfortunate, sharp-eared kin. It’s the only time in their lives where they feel completely overwhelmed by their emotions and desires. It’s dangerous and inconvenient, but it’s also the only way to get her species to procreate.
Down to her underwear, Frieren stops for a second to assess the damage. Her panties are completely soaked, like they’ve just been washed under warm water. Her juices have overflowed past them and claimed part of her pantyhose, too.
When she pulls them down, even just the feeling of the fabric rustling down her legs is enough to shoot jolts through her brain. It takes her some time to finally remove them and toss them away.
Now completely in the nude she climbs up on her bed, spreads her legs wide open, and starts touching herself. This is maybe the second or third time she does this— she still needs a few rounds of trial-and-error to understand what feels good and what doesn’t. Two fingers swirl gently around her hard, soaked clit, while the thumb and the pointer of her other hand pinch gently at her flat chest.
Her mind is flooded by pictures of a young, naked Himmel standing in front of her, demanding her services. The elf has never seen a cock before, so her imagination has to borrow inspiration from the anatomical sketches she once saw in a medical book.
Back then, Frieren was appalled by the appearance of the male, erect genitalia, but now it’s all she can think about— now she finds every detail of it absolutely exquisite.
Without halting her fingers, Frieren sits up into a squatted position, straightens her back, and imagines a standing Himmel firmly pushing his dick into her tiny mouth. Her fingers stop teasing her nipples and push against the inside of her cheek to humor her fantasy. She twirls her tongue around them, sucking them desperately, pretending they taste like the human she now so, so wishes was still there with her. She moans his name repeatedly while picking up her pace.
Her mind is flooded with pictures of his cock bumping against the back of her throat, of his balls slapping against her chin, of his hands pulling onto her ears like they are handlebars. She pretends to gag and choke while drool drips from the sides of her mouth and runs down her naked body. She keeps it up until her body surrenders to the pleasure and makes her come.
Her body is ravaged by the unknown, overwhelming sensation of her very first orgasm. She bites down on her fingers to avoid screaming in pleasure as she crashes back down on the mattress, even bumping her head against the headframe of the bed.
It takes her quite some time before she can even begin to come down from her climax. “Himmel… We can’t stop now… I want more…”
Once she’s regained control over her body, Frieren spreads her legs again and gently raises her hips into the air. Her saliva-soaked digits come back to her drenched slit.
“I need your big, hard human cock inside of me,” she whispers to no one, pushing her middle finger inside.
She’s not sure this is how it’s done, but now it feels way too good to stop. Once she has loosened up a bit, two more fingers join in and start grinding against her most sensitive spots. She moves them in and out of her rhythmically, allowing the fluids to trickle down her thighs and stain the bed sheets. Her head turns to the side and sinks her teeth into the corner of her pillow. In her delusions, Himmel is pushing her down with his full weight, her body too overwhelmed to fight back. He plunges his cock deep inside of her while pinning her down by the wrists. She writhes and gnaws at his shoulder when she feels his tongue tease the pointy tip of her ear. Her moans turn louder and gruntier.Part of the allure also comes from the fear of being caught. The idea of Fern or Stark suddenly walking into the room and finding her like this makes her crotch burn with desire. What would they say, what would they do? Would they join in? Gods, she wishes she could find out. Frieren was always a lonely, introverted woman, but right now the saying ‘the more, the merrier’ particularly resonated with her. She wants to be touched more, tasted more, fucked more. She wants real hands to pin her down, and real cocks to dominate her and make her behave.
Her hands are getting tired, she wishes to come again but her body hasn’t reached the peak yet. She shakes her hips up and down and tickles her own ear with her free hand, hoping it would ignite some sort of reaction, but physical stimulation is not nearly enough on its own. What sends her over the moon is picturing Himmel once again, this time wearing a vulnerable, melting face as he shoots his thick load balls-deep inside her pussy.
Her second orgasm is preceded by a loud groan. Hot, humid air escapes her lungs as her body is pervaded by uncontrollable spasms. Her insides clamp violently at her fingers, and her teeth manage to pierce a hole into the side of her pillow. She lets the juices run down her butt and all over the bed while her trembling hips crash back down on the mattress. Lost in her fantasies, her hands cup beneath her buttocks trying to stop her lover’s ‘semen’ from escaping her, but soak in nothing but her own, silky fluids. She pulls them back and watches as the silvery strings draw shiny bridges between her fingers. It’s a soothing distraction from the harsh reality of having received all that pleasure and attention from no one but herself. She wishes heat would’ve gotten the best of her back when she traveled with Himmel, Heiter, and Eisen; even just once, just to see what would have happened.
Frieren sits back up and fixes her hair nervously. It’s not the mess she left on the mattress the thing she’s worried about, because that will be instantly fixed by a spell from her grimoire. No, what bothers her is that she can still feel that annoying, itchy warmth linger in her lower belly. Imagination is a powerful tool, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing. The warmth, the scents, the flavors… She can't even begin to imagine them, and the idea of missing out on them is making her furious.
She needs someone else to douse her fires for her. As she reluctantly dresses back up into a presentable outfit, the elf keeps her eyes fixated on the clock hanging on the wall, counting the hours left before the two young lovebirds she travels with will return to her nest.