by Liam Lawson
Abigail’s whole body seemed to bleed out tension all at once. She looked at Trorm with tears in her eyes. “Why does she have to be so difficult?”
“Because she is your sibling,” Trorm said. “Siblings were never meant to be easy. My father once said that my brothers’ role with each other was to be like the blades of…I suppose the closest you have are scissors. The blades close together on the tool and they sharpen each other.”
She gave a hollow laugh. “Is that what you think is happening here? We’re sharpening each other?”
He shrugged. “Siblings disagree and fight, try to assert dominance and test their strength. Strength is best found through conflict.”
She sighed. “I suppose you would see fighting as a good thing.”
“Not all fighting,” Trorm said. “But some conflict, yes. You know where you stand now. So does your sister. You’ve both proved your conviction to each other.”
“I suppose,” Abigail said, looking away. “I need some air.”
She left, doubling back to take the front door. Trorm wondered if the decision to leave through a door her sister hadn’t take was deliberate or unconscious. It didn’t matter, he supposed. He felt useless and hated the feeling.
He resumed his position on the sofa with his study materials and had just picked up a text book to reread a passage when Trisha walked out from the back. She was wearing her standard all black shorts and t-shirt, the uniform of her staff. A general who led from the front, wearing the same armor as her troops, he thought with approval.
“Hey Trorm, I’m heading to the Stag. A big group just reserved the party room in the back so I’m going to be out later than usual.” She glanced around. “Where are the girls?”
“You just missed them,” he said. Should he tell her they’d been in a fight? No, that was between them. If either of them wanted to involve their mother that was on them. He’d not be the one to dishonor their conflict by treating them like children in need of a parent.
“You mind passing along what I just told you?” she asked, clearly distracted as she grabbed her purse from the counter.
“No problem,” Trorm assured her, then she was out the door and he was alone.
Perhaps he had been lucky after all. The house was the quietest it had ever been since his arrival. He set to work.
It was hard. Too hard. The girl’s conflict kept surfacing in his mind’s eye, interrupting his focus time after time. He muscled through but found himself having to triple check his work. His concentration was shot, and he kept making sloppy mistakes. What was it about their argument that troubled him? Conflict was healthy. Conflict awoke passion, dominance, and power. It was healthy.
Only he’d never seen any of the people he’d come to know in Aflana fight before. Not like that. The thought struck him as odd. How had he failed to notice such a critical cultural difference? If this had been an orc family, there would have been three fights a day easily. And he’d settled into things so easily without even noticing. What did that say about him? Was he getting weaker by being here instead of stronger?
He sighed and set aside his study materials. He’d been at it for several hours and dark was just beginning to settle. All that was left for his work was to actually apply the spell template and cast, something he was clearly in no frame of mind to do safely.
He needed to think. Or to stop thinking for a while. A run would do him some good. With dark coming on he’d be able to see clearly and not need his sunglasses. He changed into pale sweats and a hoodie—the pale colors a deliberate choice to help him stand out in the dark to humans who could not see without light.
He stretched, jotted down a note for Abigail and Lilian in case they came back while he was out, and went for the door.
Winnie was standing on the other side in a pair of tiny shorts and cropped tank top. She wore very high heels and carried a huge purse over one arm.
Her other arm was wrapped around a blushing Nymal, who was refusing to meet Trorm’s gaze.
“Look who I ran into outside your place,” Winnie said up at him, beaming.
Chapter Ten
Trorm stared for a moment, then stepped out of the doorway to allow his girlfriend and the MORTIFIED Nymal into the house. According to his sunglasses Winnie was HAPPY. He had no idea why but had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with Nymal’s mortification.
“What brings you here?” he asked as Winnie guided Nymal into the living room.
Winnie Zamora
Gender: Female
Emotion: MISCHIEVOUS, AMOROUS, EXCITED
Interest Level: 10
“I was coming to surprise my boyfriend. When I saw that there isn’t anyone else here, I thought we could, like, Netflix and chill.” Winnie winked over her shoulder, positioning Nymal right in the center of the room. “That’s when I found this one pacing in front of your house and thought we totally needed talk.”
Winnie was certainly dressed like she’d been coming for seduction. She wore a halter neck minidress with a plunging neck that left the insides of her impressive breasts bare and didn’t allow a bra. Her heels were the sort that Trorm had once heard Trisha refer to as ‘hooker heels.’
Nymal wore a miniskirt and a tank-top with strappy heeled sandals. Sexy, but more casual. There was no way she had her wand on her in that outfit, which was probably how Winnie had so easily corralled her. Casting was never as easy without an implement and some wizards struggled to do so at all without their tool of choice.
Nymal Torquinal
Gender: Female
Emotion: TERRIFIED, EMBARASSED
Interest Level: 7
Nymal quivered in place as Winnie pulled away, took Trorm’s hand, and guided him to the sofa where she proceeded to climb sideways into his lap, wiggling her but into his groin. At the phrase ‘Netflix and chill,’ he had begun growing hard and she deliberately rubbed herself into him. She wrapped her arms around Trorm’s neck and pressed herself to him, provocative and possessive at once. Trorm didn’t mind. He recognized a dominance display when he saw one.
That said, this wasn’t the sort of dominance display he’d expected. This seemed to suggest that he was at the center of the argument between Winnie and Nymal. While Nymal’s interest level in him, according to the sunglasses, was not an insignificant number, her conflict with Winnie hadn’t had anything to do with him. Or had it? When orcs argued, what they were arguing about was generally front and center. Then again, Trorm could hardly claim to be an expert on orc women, let alone women of other races. No man ever could and any who thought otherwise were fools.
Winnie looked from him and straight into Nymal’s eyes. Nymal, who had been eyeing the entry hall like she might bolt, froze in place like a deer in headlights. Or perhaps a frightened rabbit from her quivering. Trorm made a mental note to never share that comparison with Winnie. His bunnygirl was fierce.
“So,” Winnie said. “Why are you here?”
Nymal made a sound too inaudible to understand.
Winnie’s ears twitched. “I don’t think Trorm could hear you.”
Nymal’s face turned crimson. “T-to apologize.”
Winnie wrinkled her nose and wiggled more deliberately into Trorm’s lap. “You insult me and then go to my boyfriend’s house to apologize? Sends kind of the wrong message, don’t you think?”
Nymal winced. “I-I didn’t know how.”
“Tell me why,” Winnie said.
That brought Nymal up short. She jerked upright and Trorm realized she’d been slowly curling in on herself as if she might implode. Or maybe she simply wished to. “Why what?”
“You can like, start your apology by telling me why you were so awful,” Winnie said. “You really hurt my feelings.” Her ears drooped a moment, then went straight again. “I want to know why you were so mean to me.”
Nymal’s mouth opened and closed. Opened and closed again. Then she burst into tears. “Because you’re everything
I want to be!”
Trorm blinked. That he hadn’t been expecting.
Nor, apparently, had Winnie. Her ears wiggled and she cocked her head to the side. “Huh?”
Nymal shook as she cried and spoke very quickly. The words came fast, then faster. A damn had broken inside of her and now that everything was coming out it wanted out as fast as it could. “You’re beautiful. Everyone likes you. Everyone wants you. You’re a gods damned cheerleader. You are the girl that every girl loves and hates and you’re so nice and you can have any boy you want and you’re everything I ever thought I wanted to be when I was little and then learned I couldn’t be.
“I learned illusion and transmutation magic so that I could be like you only to learn they’re temporary substitutes at best for all but the most powerful wizards. I learned magic, I studied my ass off, and then I get here and I give up everything to become me, who I’m meant to be, and then there’s you! And you’re just you!”
She threw her hands out, like she was showing Winnie herself. “How does anyone compete with you? You’re like, the perfect girl and I’m just…just a second-rate wizard who everybody hates and you’re dating the boy I like and it doesn’t matter that I’m trans because he’s an orc and I’m and elf and he already has the perfect girl!”
Nymal slapped her hands over her mouth and closed her eyes. Her tears made her mascara run. It put Trorm in mind of the warpaint orc women sometimes wore into battle. His erection pressed into Winnie’s bottom. Nymal’s confession probably hadn’t been meant to arouse him but between her ‘war paint,’ admission to being attracted to him, and Winnie’s bottom constantly applying just the right amount of pressure while she pressed herself into him, he couldn’t help it. His state of arousal became obvious when Winnie leapt from his lap, leaving him tenting his sweatpants.
She wrapped her arms around Nymal and pulled her into a hug. Nymal hugged her back, burying her face in Winnie’s breasts. Winnie stroked her hair. “There, there,” she said soothingly.
Trorm cocked his head. Was this still a display of dominance? If it was a conflict, Winnie was the clear winner, but she wasn’t acting like a winner. When orc women fought, the winner did not offer comfort to the loser. Was this an elf thing or a therianthrope thing? Maybe it was just a Winnie thing.
Winnie smiled down at Nymal, who looked up to meet her eyes. “I like, totally wasn’t expecting all that.”
Nymal let out a small laugh that was still half sob. Winnie reached down and stroked a lock of blonde hair behind Nymal’s pointed ear, caressing it and sending a visible shiver through Nymal as she did.
“So, you were mean to me because you like me,” Winnie said, smile turning soft.
Nymal blushed.
That hadn’t quite been Trorm’s takeaway from the conversation. Then again, Winnie seemed to have a gift with people.
“Also,” Winnie said, smile turning mischievous. “You’re totally hot for my boyfriend.”
Nymal’s blush deepened and her eyes widened. AFRAID.
Winnie looked to Trorm and gestured for him to come over with a head gesture that made her long ears bob.
He obeyed and Nymal’s eyes became riveted to his groin.
Winnie leaned down and whispered into Nymal’s ear, just loud enough for Trorm to hear. “You did that.”
Not entirely true. It had been the both of them that had gotten him aroused. Trorm wasn’t about to undermine whatever she was attempting though.
Winnie turned so that Nymal was between her and Trorm and pressed Nymal back into Trorm. Nymal gasped as they pressed into her from the front and behind.
“Feel him,” Winnie said. “Feel all of him.” She smiled. “Now feel me.” She leaned forward down and captured Nymal’s mouth with a kiss. It started light and gentle, then became hungry. Nymal made a sound low in her throat that put Trorm in mind of a hungry kitten and went up on her toes, trying to press her mouth more into Winnie’s.
They broke apart panting hard.
Winnie looked up into Trorm’s eyes. “Take us to your room?”
She was asking permission. She’d taken the lead for everything that had happened thus far, but she hadn’t usurped his agency. Trorm appreciated that. It would have been easy—and probably correct—to assume that he was okay with everything that was happening. The fact that in the midst of it all, Winnie still deferred to him though and made certain that all was well with him, meant a lot. Gods above this woman was sexy.
With a grunt, Trorm dropped down, then hefted each of them up, hooking an arm beneath each of their bottoms, and carried them up the stairs. Winnie laughed as Nymal squealed and grabbed hold of his neck. He took the stairs two at a time. He had two beautiful women who wanted to be with him alone in his room with strong implications that more than just kissing was about to happen. A solid brick wall wouldn’t have been able to stand in his way.
He tore through the curtain that had been hung up over his empty doorway, which earned an inquisitive glance from Nymal.
“Broke the door,” Trorm said by way of explanation.
“Um…is it…are we private?” Nymal asked as he set them both down.
“No one will be home for a long while,” he said. “We have the place to ourselves.”
Nymal nodded nervously.
Winnie ran a hand up Nymal’s arm to her shoulder. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can stop…whenever you want, you just say stop. Okay? There’s like, no obligation here.”
Nymal bit her lip and looked down for a moment. “I’ve…never…never done this.”
Winnie blinked at her. “You’re a virgin?”
Trorm furrowed his brow. He’d always understood that elves were more liberal about sharing themselves because of their lower rate of reproduction. Sure, there was the prevailing romantic myth of the virgin elf princess, but he’d always thought that trope more of an orc or human construct. Elves tended to start sexual experimentation at a relatively young age. If one measured young by maturity instead of actual years alive. They didn’t age the same as the other races, after all.
“It…never felt right, before,” Nymal said. “I mean…I never felt right. If that makes sense?”
Winnie nodded. “It totally does.”
Trorm wasn’t entirely certain that he understood. He was more certain that he didn’t need to. Nymal hadn’t been comfortable with some element involved, probably deeply personal, and so hadn’t pursued sexual activities. That was all he needed to know.
Winnie kissed Nymal and then pulled away. “Does this feel right?”
Nymal held Winnie’s gaze, then looked up to Trorm. A small smile played across her lips. “Y-yeah. Yeah it does.”
Winnie beamed, stepped back, and shrugged free of the dress she was wearing. It pooled to the floor at her feet. A bra wasn’t the only undergarment she’d forgone. She stood before them, nude save for her high heels and proud. The sunglasses confirmed that.
Trorm took them off. One, he didn’t want anything getting in the way of his vision. Two, he really didn’t need an emotional play-by-play right now. He drank in the sight of his naked girlfriend.
She closed the distance between them, stepping heel to toe, hips swaying as she in turn absorbed his admiration. Winnie wrapped her arms around his neck and Trorm leaned down to kiss her, devouring her lips. His tongue conquered hers and she moaned into his mouth as one of his hands slid up her side to cup her breast while the other pulled her bottom close to him. She reached between them and rubbed his erection through his sweatpants, then broke away, eyes turning to Nymal.
She smiled a look of pure desire and seduction. “Your turn.”
Chapter Eleven
“Right,” Nymal said, looking Winnie’s naked form up and down pointedly. “No pressure.” She gave a soft, embarrassed laugh. “How am I supposed to follow that up?”
Winnie pulled away from Trorm and wrapped her arms around Nymal, pulling her close, their breasts pressing toge
ther as she looked into the elf’s eyes. It was interesting, Trorm thought, that despite being the one without clothing, it was obvious that Winnie was the dominant figure there. He’d always associated being the one clothed with being the one in control. Winnie completely subverted that expectation, owning her sexuality and nudity completely and wielding them with the expertise of a weapon master.
She kissed Nymal, a passionate kiss but an inversion of the kiss that she had just shared with Trorm. Despite being the instigator with him, he had been the aggressor. Here it was the opposite and she conquered Nymal’s lips, making her body go limp. Her hands found Nymal’s hips and pulled them in to her, making Nymal whimper into her mouth.
When she broke the kiss, Nymal was panting and her eyes were unfocussed. Winnie spun her around and backed her into Trorm, who caught her. “It’s not a competition, Sweetie,” Winnie said, going to her knees. “It’s about sharing ourselves. Here, we’ll help you.”
She lifted Nymal’s feet, one at a time, and freed them of the sandals while Nymal stared. Trorm could feel her heart pounding in her tiny chest as she pressed back into him. He slid his hands over her hips as Winnie looked up with fire in her eyes. Nymal’s breath caught in her throat and Trorm couldn’t blame her. Winnie was spectacular as she slid her hands slowly up Nymal’s bare thighs, over her knees, up underneath the miniskirt.
The skirt began to lift upward and Trorm dragged his own hands up, catching the hem of Nymal’s t-shirt and pulling it up as he hands slowly went over her waist, then her ribs. She allowed him to lift her arms and his vision was momentarily obscured as he removed her shirt and pulled it free of her. When he could see again, Winnie had Nymal’s miniskirt down around her ankles and was helping her to step out of it, leaving Nymal standing between them in a lacy bra encasing breasts that were about average size for an elf, and a mismatched pair of thick, shiny panties that looked like something a woman might go to work out in.