The training yard baked under the midday sun, heat rising in shimmering waves from the packed dirt, turning the air thick and hazy. Dust clung to sweat-slicked skin, gritty and irritating, while the sharp tang of exertion mingled with oiled leather and the faint, lingering smoke from morning drills. Wooden training dummies stood scarred and splintered along the fences, remnants of earlier sessions. The yard was mostly empty now—other adventurers dispersed for meals or rest—leaving only the rhythmic thud of footfalls and the occasional grunt echoing in the open space.
Riven faced Thalira across the ring, sword sheathed for this bout—hand-to-hand focus, as she had requested. "Need to feel the commands up close," she had said that morning, indigo eyes pleading subtly. Her cropped silver-blonde hair was already matted with sweat, tanned skin glistening like burnished bronze under the harness armor that hugged her athletic frame. Powerful thighs flexed in rugged breeches, abs rippling visibly with each breath.
She charged without warning—a bold grapple attempt, arms outstretched to seize his torso. He sidestepped, catching her wrist and twisting, using her momentum to spin her off-balance. She recovered fast, boot kicking up dust as she pivoted, elbow driving toward his ribs.
He blocked—forearm meeting hers with a solid thud that vibrated up bone. Pain flared dull but welcome. She pressed closer, body heat radiating, sweat tracing paths down her neck to soak her top's edges.
The spar intensified. She lunged again, tackling low—shoulder impacting his midsection, driving him back several steps. Dust exploded around their feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting slightly to counter, muscles straining against her weight. They hit the ground together—rolled in a tangle of limbs, her thighs clamping his hips in a vise-like hold, breaths hot and mingled.
She pinned him briefly—knees digging into dirt on either side, hands pressing his shoulders. Indigo eyes burned down at him, chest heaving, sweat dripping from her brow to splatter his vest. "Tell me what to do," she whispered, voice breathy, needy.
He reversed—hips bucking, flipping her beneath him in a fluid motion. Dust plumed. Now he loomed, hands pinning her wrists above her head. Her body arched instinctively, thighs parting wider around his, muscular cleft pressing hot against him.
The drill devolved. Grapples turned sensual—limbs entangling with slippery friction from sweat, bodies grinding in feigned resistance. She twisted under him, thighs coiling powerful around his waist, pulling closer. Grunts became softer, breaths ragged.
He released her wrists—only for her hands to clutch his vest, pulling him down. "More," she implored. "Guide me."
The yard's isolation allowed escalation. Armor pieces discarded—her harness unbuckled, top peeled away in mutual urgency, revealing tanned skin slick and shining. His vest followed, scars bared.
The mask came off.
He set it aside on a nearby post, amber eyes fully exposed—piercing, intense. Midnight hair tousled from the bout, scar stark along his collarbone. Vulnerability in the open air, sun warming his face for the first time in months.
Her eyes widened, stormy indigo softening to awe. Fingers traced his jaw reverently. "You trust me with this?"
No words. He claimed her mouth instead—firm, commanding. She yielded instantly, lips parting with a desperate moan, tongue meeting his clumsily at first, then eager.
Bodies pressed fully now—skin on skin, sweat mingling salty. Hands roamed: his spanking her firm ass in disciplinary slaps that echoed sharp across the empty yard, skin reddening with stinging heat, her gasps breathy and pleading. Flat nipples at rest erected into hard, bronze-tipped points amid broad, crinkled areolas that darkened and swelled under his pinches and twists.
She writhed beneath him, thighs flexing in convulsions, muscular cleft soaking with arousal that streamed in rivulets down inner skin. Thick, meaty outer lips in deep caramel inflated juicy and thick, gaping to unveil hooded inner folds in dusky plum, weeping viscous fluids that flooded warm and creamy.
He entered her slowly at first—vise-like warmth clenching around him with hesitant grips, her body tensing in awkward discovery. She told him then, voice breaking amid moans: "First time... like this. Need you to show me."
The revelation fueled him—commands quiet but firm: "Relax. Take it." "Move with me."
Thrusts built—clumsy at first from her inexperience, hips bucking erratically, but turning desperate, matching his rhythm. Sensory overload: salty sweat tastes licked from skin, lubricious glides into her pulsing heat, guttural releases building as she clenched tighter, fluids gushing in messy squirts with each deep drive.
She performed oral midway—kneeling submissively in the dust, full lips engulfing his slick length with eager devotion. Throat worked around him awkwardly, gagging on depth but persisting, drool spilling in trails down chin and tanned chest, breathy pleas vibrating: "Like this? Tell me..."
He guided—hand in her silver hair, praise drawing whimpers. Release spilled hot; she swallowed messily, excess coating lips.
Back to coupling—rougher now, spankings reddening further, her body convulsing in raw spasms, warm gushes flooding their join, sticky residues pooling in the dirt beneath.
Climaxes crashed—hers multiple, awkward peaks laced with raw moans and flooding releases; his deep within, marking her clenching core.
tangled in the yard's dust, breaths syncing, bodies trembling in aftershocks. Sweat cooled in the breeze, scents thick—salt, arousal, earth.
He donned the mask again, amber eyes lingering on her sated form.
Vow fractured further.
But the ascent called. Fractures could be mended in steel.
Vespera waited higher still.
He would reach her.
Broken, or unbreakable.