Chapter 18 : Go Your Own Way

Mnemon Rhomon, Sorcerer

Realm Year 764, Resplendent Wood

The Lap, The Lap, Satrapy of the Realm

---Warning : The first two thirds of this chapter is smut---

A thin stream of oil spilled out carefully from a thumb-sized vial, glittering in the candlelight of the improvised alchemical laboratory as it fell upon pale flesh and spread out. Along the arms, across a modest bust, down a smooth belly and ending in a series of spirals across a magnificent set of thighs. 

“I need some help, master. May I borrow your hands?” The green-haired, violet-eyed woman cooed at him, setting the vial aside on his desk and slowly dragging a hand across her chest. She sat in a heap of her own discarded robes, wearing nothing beneath. “They’d be so much better at rubbing this in.”

Rhomon rose from his chair, reaching up to shrug off his replacement coat and toss it upon the chair before moving forwards. He took a moment to eye her appreciatively, letting his lone orb trail up and down along her mostly-bare body. Delicate feet leading into perfectly plump thighs and wide hips, narrowing dramatically at the waist, a pair of palm-filling mounds above that, and a beautiful face ending his visual tour. 

Those red lips tugged into a knowing smile. “Are you stunned, master?”

“You’re beautiful.” He stated plainly, bringing his hands forwards to seize her by the wrists, firm bronze hands gently squeezing pale flesh. Her plum perfume filled the room as his hands began to roam. Up along the arms to the shoulders, taking care to spread and knead the oil into her muscles as he wandered. He could smell the oil, a sort of bitter scent. It wasn’t vegetable based. 

“The oil?” He asked, letting his hands move along her underarms and down to her waist and belly, carefully tracing around her breasts for the moment, working heavy kneads into his movements. 

“My- ah- my preparations, master.” She paused briefly as his knuckles worked into her hips, then continued with a cryptic explanation. “I’ll need it for what you’ll be doing to me.”

She leaned forwards to whisper hotly against his ear. “The second vial, I’ll be rubbing on you.”

Mentally he recounted where his antidotes and purgative medicines were just in case she was an assassin in for the long haul to get him. Physically, he squeezed hard, making his lover inhale sharply and lean into him. 

A smirk on his lips, he brought his hands down to start rubbing along her thighs, pressing his thumbs into the meat of her legs and pushing it up and pulling it down. The oil left a sheen on her skin that the candlelight made alive, and his firmer ministrations began to make her squirm upon the table. Little gasps and sighs escaped her lips as he applied pressure to medicinal points.

“You forgot a place.” She complained with a pout, reaching up to rub and knead at her own chest. He smirked before leaning forwards to kiss one hard nub-

-Immediately he recoiled as the taste of the oil hit his lips. “Gugh!” He exclaimed, face twisting up at the bitter medicinal, almost rubbery taste filled his mouth. Melia laughed as he pulled back, almost reaching up to rub his lips before realizing that his fingers were similarly covered in the oil and pausing, stepping back to take hold of his new coat and using it to scrub his mouth.

“The oil isn’t meant for tasting, no.” She giggled as he rubbed his tongue off with a disgusted expression. 

“I can tell- I can taste the…” He smacked his lips twice in thought, brows furrowing. “Is that Robusta resin?” 

“You didn’t peak at the notes I was writing?” She asked with an amused smile, taking up the remaining vial and sliding off the table, sauntering over to him. Hand on his shoulders, she gently turned him around and pushed him down into the chair. 

“I was waiting for you to be finished before looking.” Rhomon admitted as she deftly undid his belt and unclad his groin. His length, only slightly discouraged by the sudden assault of foul oil on his lips, sprung lazily from its bounds.

“What a gentleman!” She teased, leaning forwards to give the tip a gentle kiss. Its lethargy dissipated almost at once, bouncing to attention and tapping across the bridge of her nose. Hot breath spilled from her lips and over the lower shaft, making him shiver at the sensation. “This will come as a surprise then.” She smiled in a serpentine manner, uncapping the vial of oil and pouring it into her palm.

Setting the vial aside, she rubbed her hands together to slather the oil across, then reached forwards to grip his shaft and cup his globes. Cool oil made his length recoil and briefly retreat, before her steady pumps and ever-gentle kneading brought it to an almost painful engorgement.

She pulled up, turned, and sat back on his lap, letting his length hide between her grand thighs. “Take hold of me. It will burn for a little bit.” She muttered in warning, still using both hands to work his member and cup his balls. 

“That’s very worrying to hear.” He muttered, slouching just enough to rest his chin in the crook of her neck and raising his hands to cup her modest chest. Two dainty breasts that could barely fill his palms greeted him, and her breath hitched as his thumbs began to flick across her nipples. 

He sharply inhaled as the burning began. Not enough to be painful, but hot enough to be noticeable and uncomfortable, a sensation that filled his groin and made his fingers dig into her pale flesh. He closed one eye, doing his best to distract himself with his hands on her body as the burning continued steadily. 

Melia muttered little apologies, kissing his face and lips, burying his face into her hair, and clenching around him with her thighs. After a minute or two of his uncomfortable heat in his groin, it dissipated. Just as steadily as it arrived, it vanished, and his eye cracked open and his fingers slackened around her small bosom. 

“All done?” She asked with a smile, pushing up and sliding off his lap. Her groin dragged along his length all the while, for longer than he was expecting. “Now let's see what a monster you’ve become…” She muttered coyly, using her rear as a curtain to hide and slowly unveil his groin. 

It was larger than he remembered it being, enormously so. At least twice as long and twice as wide. He raised a brow, flexing some tendon in his loins and making it bounce to attention, confirming that it was indeed his phallus. 

“Oh, he’s wonderful~” Melia praised, reaching down to take hold of his shaft again, using both hands to grip it. 

“You have a potion that makes penises bigger and you were running out of money?” Rhomon asked incredulously. She glowered up at him for a moment.

“It wasn’t my fault, certainly.” She grumbled, continuing her ministrations. After a few moments to ensure some quality she was seeking, she pulled up and strutted over to the table. She leaned forwards on it, legs straight up and heels raised off the floor, a narrow-eyed glance back at him. “Stop talking and batter down my gates already.” 

A wiggle of her grand hips emphasized her point. He smirked in amusement, pulling up from the chair and settling in behind her. His length eclipsed her rear and reached up to her lower back, and he hesitated. 

“Are you sure? This looks like it’ll hurt a lot…” He muttered, making a few experimental thrusts, sliding his length between the firm, round cheeks of her posterior. Twice as long and twice as thick- it was like he had a third forearm between his groin, with equally enormous testes. 

“It's what that oil was for.” She explained, using her rear to grip and rub his shaft with an expert motion. With a smile she reached back and pinched her thigh, gripping it firmly before stretching out the meat far from her bones. Her flesh had taken on an elastic quality, snapping back into place with a ripple as she let go of it. “Trust me, I can take it, master.” She pouted and batted her eyes back at him. “Or do you want me to start begging?”

He gave her rear a sharp, harsh spank. She yelped as a loud smack of tanned hand meeting pale meat bounced around in the room, a faint redness lingering. He briefly rubbed her in a comforting manner, hand lowering to brush against her loins just to check.

A well lubricated pair of lips greeted his fingers. She had been ready for quite some time, by the feel of it. 

“If you’re sure.” He muttered, pulling his hips back and letting his enormous engorgement slide back across her rear. It slid down, heavy enough to sag in the air even when fully erect, and needing a hand near the tip to guide it to her low gates. He slowly breached her, with just the head at first, her elastic hold barely permitting entry even as wet as she was. 

“All the way, master.” She whispered with a wiggle of her hips and an arching of her back. 

With a firm grip on her hips, he began to force himself forwards. Inch after inch pushing their way into her, each inch greeted by sufficient lubrication and insufficient room, forcing her wider to delve deeper. 

As concerned as he was with her pains, Melia only buried her face into her arms and groaned. A deep, guttural, delighted groan. If she was at all pained by this forcible intrusion, she revealed none of it. 

Eventually, their hips met again, his length fully ensheathed by her slick, hot, rubbery folds. A sweat built upon their skin from the contact, her plum scent mixing with the smell of their building exertion. Just the mere act of forcing such a length into such a space was exhaustive.

He pulled back, and then pulled back farther still, until his arms were extended as far as they could while still firmly gripped around her hips. His length was still within her, perhaps a third of it remaining. 

Good enough. He forced himself forwards again, a heavy thrust through previously-ventured halls. It was easier than the last, and a loud clap of flesh meeting flesh sounded out as their hips joined again. 

“Gods above.” Rhomon groaned in time with Melia’s own sweet gasps. 

He pulled back again, then thrust forwards. A heavy clap followed, his lance impaling her innards. Too-large insertion into folds that somehow stretched themselves enough to accept it. 

He pulled back again, then performed another forceful thrust. A third clap followed. 

“This is the best…” Melia groaned into her hands, one leg raising, her body slumping forwards further onto the table. 

Rhomon bit his lip, the taste of rubbery oil ignored entirely in favor of the labor before him. He forced himself into a rhythm, building speed as he went along.

Clap, clap, clap, clap-

She was hot, dangerously hot, heat surrounding him like a furnace. His bronze fingers clenched around her creamy flesh hard enough to bruise it, beginning a series of pistoning thrusts in earnest. He held his breath, holding back the rising climax as much as he could bear. 

Her gasps grew increasingly incoherent as he built up speed. Words and phrases devolving into short utterances and wordless moans. He wasn’t much better, little gasps of desperate air escaping his lips and nose as he worked.

It was a heavy, thorough, steady pounding. The table began to knock against the wall with the force of the thrusts, and vials rock about. He pulled her off the table entirely with a clench of his teeth, hands on her thighs and back resting against his chest. 

From this angle, he could visibly see where he was stretching her out. A bulging of her belly that twitched in time with his own twitches.

He lost concentration, breath letting out and climax rushing forth from his loins. He groaned, burying his face into her hair as his overlarge scrotum tensed and flexed, pumping ejaculate up through his shaft and straight into her womb. 

She moaned, voice unmuffled by her arms, bringing hands back to grab his red locks as he filled her. Nearly ten seconds of tensing loins steadily filled her, drops of white spilling out and splashing onto the floor.

Unlike last time, he refused to lose strength with one finish. With great effort, he lifted her up, fingers digging into her meaty thighs.

Lifted as much as he could, which was only about halfway off his enlarged shaft, he let her drop again. A sharp, delighted wail followed as he hilted in her again. 

“I think it will need further testing, aide.” Rhomon growed into her ear, a shudder running through her body as his breath spilled over her neck. Another lifting and dropping bulged her stomach, and he knew at once he wouldn’t have the strength to keep doing it. He lowered her slowly to the floor, shifting his grip to her waist and forcing her into receptive position.

“O-of course, master…” Melia muttered with a smile, shaking legs forcing her rear higher. “We have all night…”

—

“Please forgive our horrible impropriety.” Shuri was beside himself with shame the next morning as they loaded up the cart the next morning. Some of their jade sold off to local buyers in exchange for bulk supplies and a few niceties, most of it still sitting in inconvenient bags of coins.

He had strongly considered buying a set of heavy armor, plate and chain, but eventually mustered the strength to decide against the purchase. It would take another day to have it adjusted to his size, and his chain hauberk was still completely functional. He restrained himself and instead purchased another coat to replace his previous. A fine, airy coat with a depiction of a rolling field of ripe wheat embroidered into it.

Brahm had squinted at him for the non-aniconic pattern, but it didn’t depict anything but a generic field, so he couldn’t say anything. 

A fine coat that he had to tie around his waist like a skirt temporarily, on account of the lingering bulge in his pants. Melia’s ‘bedroom enhancers’ had a good duration before it wore off, and Rhomon was modest enough to hide it away from the world. 

“Oh- it’s quite alright! I was merely surprised!” Siata replied with a smile and a raised thumb, tossing his own bags into the cart. Brahm helped their patient, the old man now substantially cleaned and combed, into the back of the cart. 

The deranged censor looked around curiously, eyes only dimly lit with awareness of what was occurring. His neck and arms were laden with a stock of talismans, lucky, warding, and otherwise that Rhomon had made along the way here, which his withered hands fiddled with absently. 

“It was- If there is anything we can do to account for our sudden attack of your persons…” Shuri was not buying the easy acceptance that Siata was giving, and kept his head bowed in apologetic shame. 

“Hm.” Siata realized this, reaching up to cup his chin in thought before snapping his fingers. “To account for this shame, next time you have such issues, you will come to me with a verbal request, how about that?”

“O-oh that’s…” Shuri’s freckle-scaled face was aflame in scarlet blush, reaching up to coil a lock of hair around one finger. “Would that be… very well.”

“Where’s the alchemist?” Brahm asked him as he pulled up into the cart, sitting on the opposite side of their patient. Brahm settled down at the back. Siata leaped up upon the arched front to take up the reins of the patient ram-lizard. 

“She left early this morning, moving with a mercenary caravan to the east.” Rhomon nodded calmly, kicking up one leg and letting it rest across his other knee. “They’ll be at the coast in a few days, and from there she’s off to Paragon.”

“...Are you worried for her?” Brahm asked, gaze turned to their backs. Shuri climbed into the cart and took a seat next to Rhomon, face downcast and full of red. 

“Perhaps abstractly. She’s in the company of mercenaries with a stellar reputation who were paid very well for their service. She’s in one of the safest regions in Creation, traveling to another one of the safest regions in Creation, through the safest sea in Creation.” Rhomon shook his head. “At a certain point there’s nothing more you can do to account for danger. She’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself.”

“Where are we going?” The old man asked as Siata provoked the ram lizard into moving again, bringing them slowly around into the main street and down into the tunnel leading through the legs of the massive mountain-statue. A long, defensible shaft that led from the lowest point of the lap down into the outer foothills. It was easily three stories tall and twenty feet across, but that was tiny for the scales of war and trade, and rendered the city a nigh-impregnable fortress. 

What did he call it again? “We’re going to the House of Hale Mind, Honored Censor.” Rhomon replied patiently. “You are needed to attune to its demense, to check its efficacy.”

“Oh.” The old man replied with a slow nod, before casting his gaze to the others in the cart. “...Why do they not speak?”

“They cannot speak Old Realm, you must speak to them with a mortal tongue, Honored Censor.” 

“Oh.” The censor blinked before leaning forwards and giving Brahm a hard tap on the shoulder. In firetongue he spoke, direct and scratchy. “Hello there, attendant. You have fine combing skills.”

“Thank you.” Brahm nodded stoically. 

“How did you learn that, without hair?”

“I practiced on many heads to eradicate lice plagues, elder one.”

“Lice. Lice. Ice. Ice. Iz.” The old man muttered, leaning back in his seat, fiddling with the charm around his neck. “...I know a song that goes like that, I think…” He mumbled through a short tune. 

There was silence for a few moments, as the cart pulled along through a sleepy morning road and down into the tunnels leading from The Lap and back towards the west. In a flutter of wings, his familiar descended, landing upon his shoulder before hopping off and onto a bag of rice. Sharp talons prodded the bag briefly before the lizard-bird tucked in for a nap. 

“...Oh, how cute! What’s her name?” The old man asked with a smile, leaning forwards to scratch at the familiar’s crest and chin. 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t decided on a name yet.” Rhomon replied with a shrug. The old man ignored him.

“Here- a treat.” He mumbled, waving his hand and gathering strands of golden threads from the air. Rhomon’s eyes widened, watching as the strands gathered and condensed, spooling around into a shape before falling apart and dissipating on the winds. A little bone with a roll of fat was left in his hands. “For such a pretty girl, okay?”

The familiar chirped in delight, taking the treat greedily with rapid tearing bites and quick gulps. The sympathetic link returned immense delight at the snack. 

Rhomon glanced around.

No one else had noticed.

He let out a little sigh, and leaned back, keeping one careful eye upon the insane spirit that was currently cooing over his familiar.

Halfway done. He just needed to get him back to An-Teng, and attuned to the manse. Halfway done…

“Make sure you listen to your master when you get bigger, okay? He’s a fine young man- you could do much worse!”

A lizardlike chirp.