Demonic Embrace

It was nearing noon, the bright sun climbing ever closer to the center of the sky. Despite how cloudless it was, the day was still chilled, the air whipping up brown leaves from off the stone street. Dareum, wearing a blood red robe, was sitting on the edge of a large fountain. His right hand held the edge of his seat firmly while his left trailed behind him, dragging fingers through the cold water idly. Orran had yet to show himself, but he still technically had time. No demon accompanied the warlock; he’d dismissed Chonar earlier that morning so as to avoid listening to him while he waited for the druid. Not having a demon chatting away in his ear made Dareum happy enough to show a wry smile.

All around him, people were moving. Humans and dwarves in heavy, complicated looking armor lumbered past him, carrying massive weapons or combinations of smaller weapons and shields. Gnomes darted by, usually in robes, but occasionally wearing thicker material or even true armor. Taller cloaked figures were common as well, some with demons trailing behind them. A few inhabitants of Stormwind had unnaturally large animals accompanying them, the majority of such pairs being Night Elves with giant cats. Dareum had stopped paying attention to the townspeople and other adventurers long ago, now focused on finding Orran.

A feline looking vaguely like a jaguar rounded a corner and came into Dareum’s view. The cat was a tannish-yellow, with black spots and protruding fangs. A traditional form that any skilled druid could use. The cat was heading towards the warlock at full speed, having to step around a particularly wide dwarf who was busy talking to a taller human. At last, the cat pulled to a stop in front of Dareum. It began to grow, shifting into a bipedal stance, its features redefining themselves into that of the Night Elf. His brown clothes seemed to grow from his body as Orran became himself again.

“You were almost late.” Dareum pulled his hand from the fountain and pushed away from the decoration, landing neatly, ready to get going. He wiped his hand against the side of his robe, drying it against the thick, soft mageweave. Beginning to walk, Dareum gestured for the elf to follow. The druid obeyed, walking in line with his companion.

“Good morning, Dareum.”

“Yeah, ‘morning.” Dareum’s greeting was indifferent at best, in stark contrast to Orran’s warm voice. Not caring, Dareum continued. “Let me go ahead and outline the basic plan. We’re going to take a flight from Ironforge to Menethil, catch a boat there to Auberdine, and then head into Felwood. Felwood should be the only even remotely dangerous part of the trip, but the two of us should be fine. However…the ride to Auberdine will take a few days, as will tracking down the prize once we get to Felwood. So, this might take a week or so.”

“That’s alright. If you need to travel all the way to Felwood…why did you decide to start here in Stormwind rather than in Darnassus?” Orran kept his eyes focused on Dareum as they walked, glancing up every few seconds to be sure he wasn’t going to walk into the canal. They had long since left the Trade District and were making their way to the Dwarven District, where they could easily ride the tram to the dwarven capital.

“Because I don’t particularly like Darnassus.”

“What is it that you don’t like?”

Dareum was silent, using all of his cunning to come up with a decent answer. Insulting his partner this early on would be one of the worst things he could do, but he found it hard to voice his real opinion without being somewhat hurtful. “Because Night Elves tend to not like me.” There, a perfectly reasonable explanation shifting the blame to someone else.

“Night Elves are distrustful of anyone who dabbles in the arcane or the demonic. You must forgive their stubborn natures, though. If you prove yourself competent, they can generally learn to accept you.”

“You’re speaking like you’re not a Night Elf yourself.”

“I know. In some ways, I’m not. Elves tend to dislike progressive attitudes, too. But you humans, you are supposed to be our allies now, right? We shouldn’t hold the actions of a few corrupt individuals against the entire species, in my mind anyway.”

“That’s…oddly compassionate. For a Night Elf.” Dareum snickered, leaving Orran to wonder about the warlock’s true stance. The young human certainly had the air of infinite sarcasm around him, laced with playful derision. He wasn’t malicious with his words, as was common with warlocks. The sorcerers often became darker than the rest of their society, but truly mean-spirited ones were uncommon. Dareum’s off-color comments were out of habit, nothing more. Orran was willing to play along.

“Yes, I’m a compassionate Night Elf, paired up with something equally as unlikely, an intelligent human. I mean, it’s usually amazing if a human can speak with any clarity. But dressing yourself? Staying passably clean? You must be one in a million.”

“Preaching to the choir.”

Orran started laughing heartily, amused by how quick Dareum was to respond. As the druid laughed, his yellow eyes closed as his whole face got involved. Dareum uttered a small chuckle; this trip was going to go quickly. Having arrived in the underground tunnel that served as the tram station, the pair waited happily for the moving platforms to arrive, exchanging light-hearted verbal jabs.

By time they arrived in Menethil on griffon-back, it was beginning to get dark. Dareum had decided to stop in Ironforge to pick up some food for the boat ride, and Orran had taken all of their gear to be repaired before the voyage. The clothiers and smiths in Ironforge would be much better at fixing the few spots of damage than those in Auberdine, as Dareum refused to detour to Darnassus to get anything fixed. But everything worked out alright, as they arrived before the last boat for Auberdine was set to leave.

Menethil itself was fairly gloomy, always covered with a dreary sky. The most prominent building was an Alliance fort which stood in the center of town, dwarfing all the surrounding houses and shops. Towns dominated by the military were usually depressing, and both Dareum and Orran wanted to be on their way. They made their way down the docks, moving out of the way as a team of humans began loading and unloading crates, barrels, and various supplies from the massive ship that was to take them to Auberdine.

The wooden vessel was enormous, as much a cargo freighter as it was a passenger cruise. It looked unarmed, though it bore the wooden windows which typically concealed cannons, as it had no need to worry about pirates when it was filled to the brim with accomplished (and some not so accomplished) adventurers. There appeared to be plenty of room for passengers, but the quarters were small and cramped. Each room was basically a closet with a bed and enough floor space to drop personal items. No matter how uncomfortable the voyage might be, Dareum and Orran were forced to accept; even if they waited a month, no measurably better ship would offer to take them to Auberdine. They just didn’t make straight civilian ships anymore.

The two travelers managed to secure rooms on the top deck, which they immediately went to check out. They each had a room, and the two happened to be next to each other. Dareum put his supplies all on his bed and went to sit out in the open air, thoroughly uncomfortable with how cramped the ship was. Orran was likewise uneasy with the tiny rooms and the narrow hallways, but decided that he would go to sleep early that night. The two said their ‘good night’s and parted, Orran closing and locking the door to his room behind him. The Night Elf pulled off his clothes and climbed into bed, listening to the boat rock and creak as sleep overtook him.

He awoke in what had to be the middle of the night, his closed-off room being utter darkness. At first, he was confused. Why did he suddenly wake up? Nothing appeared to be wrong; the boat’s rocking had even gotten gentler. Then he heard it, a noise coming from the other side of the wall. On the other side of that wall was Dareum’s room. Puzzled, Orran placed his pointed ear against the wooden wall and listened.

The warlock was…moaning? Orran pulled away from the wall, trying to make sense of the situation. Dareum didn’t sound to be in pain, so what, exactly, was going on? Cautiously, he put his ear back against the wall and resumed listening. Dareum was still making the same noises, which were getting stronger. Orran quickly figured it out, whispering the answer to himself.

“He’s not hurt, he’s having sex. Or something like it.” Orran silently continued to listen. It was awkward, listening to someone ‘in the act’. He wanted to pull away and ignore it, but found such action impossible. The druid was trapped, listening to the warlock and finding himself wondering what was going on in there. He began to think, trying to slide the pieces of the puzzle into place.

‘We’ve only been on the ship an evening and he’s already gotten someone into his bed. He must work incredibly fast, but that’s just the way humans young as he. However…I haven’t actually heard whatever girl he’s with yet. That’s strange. Perhaps…he’s merely ‘playing’ with himself? He must be really into it.’

As his thoughts drifted, Orran happened to glance down at himself, still covered by the sheets of his bed. His Night Elf eyes had started to function in the dark, and he could clearly see the material around his nether regions being lifted what lay beneath. A hand clasped to his mouth to keep himself from speaking a cry of surprise. Listening to Dareum had actually aroused him, to the point where he could actually feel himself pulsing gently. “W-What the hell?” he whispered, not completely believing what was happening.

His hand pulled away from his mouth and started working its way towards his flustered phallus. It tossed the sheets away, completely exposing his nude, purple body. Orran’s fingers traced through the forest of deep violet hair surrounding the base of his penis before finally grasping the rod. He was at a loss; his body had decided to pleasure itself with or without Orran’s consent, all because he’d happened to hear Dareum doing the same.

He started stroking himself, enjoying the resulting feeling immensely. His left hand ran down his chest and stomach, resting at his testicles and beginning to massage them. The felt great, too, and Orran closed his eyes to allow himself to fantasize. The yellow orbs burst open again, vaguely disturbed by what he’d seen. Dareum had crept into his mind’s eye, naked and lying on his own bed, clearly taking similar actions to Orran.

The druid had never once thought of another male before, certainly not a human at that. Dareum’s nude form was stuck, however, no matter how much Orran willed the image to leave him. Unfortunately, Orran had already started, and it would be far too difficult to stop now. Telling himself that fantasy meant nothing, Orran allowed his eyes to close again, imagining that he was watching Dareum in the warlock’s room.

Dareum was running out of breath, quite close to the end. The human was toying with himself similarly to Orran, using his left hand instead of his right to touch his cock and using his offhand to play with his pink nipples. Orran had never actually seen Dareum nude, but his mind was filling in the details. Dareum was obviously thin, but was at the same time fit, his small frame coated in long, defined muscles. His body was a fusion between the stereotypical images of fighters and mages, resulting in something slightly less muscular and wide than a rogue’s. Like the rest of his hair, Dareum’s pubic region was black, the hair somehow short and orderly, as if it’d been cut. His cock was well sized, easily larger than average but not gigantic. Dareum’s body shuddered as he continued to stroke. He was on the edge.

Orran was faintly aware of how fast and hard his own strokes had become. His hand felt tired, but his body craved more. He obeyed, continuing his train of thought. The Dareum in his mind was at the brink for an absurd amount of time. The warlock was crying his pleasure, extending the feeling as long as possible. Suddenly, his young body tensed and his noise stopped, his entire being seized up. At last, he released, decorating his chest with streams of white as his moans returned, more passionate than before. His cock was pumping angrily, his hand finding it difficult to control.

The Night Elf was coming in synch with his vision. Just beforehand, he had managed to lie backwards, placing himself in the same position as fantasy-Dareum. His purple penis was the angry one, shooting its owner with line after line of warm, sticky whiteness. Orran’s orgasm was stronger, managing to hit himself in the chin with his seed, which continued to fall about his neck and shoulders. His body felt electric, ecstasy overflowing.

Eventually, his member had calmed, leaving him grasping a softening shaft. Orran’s eyes slowly peeled open to face the ceiling above him. His skin was soaked in sweat, and his semen had begun to try and roll off his body. With his fingers, he stopped the flow and scooped the fluid up, dropping it into his mouth. There was, unfortunately, no real way to clean up other than to consume the evidence, and Orran swallowed through the bitterness. He coughed at the taste once the majority was gone, leaving only patches of stickiness.

Orran pulled the sheets closer to him, using the edge of the cloth to wipe at what remained on his body. He made sure the areas were fairly dry, promising himself that he’d bathe as soon as possible. Actually having an orgasm to thoughts of Dareum made him feel dirty and defiled somehow, but it had gotten the thoughts of the warlock to go away. Orran stopped and listened, hoping that Dareum, too, was finished.

Silence.

It was a true blessing, and Orran had to sigh in relief. He still felt a sensation of warmth, but now he was tired and wanted desperately to be able to sleep. He placed himself back under the covers and lay back on the thin pillow the ship had provided. Closing his eyes for the final time that night, Orran began to drift back off to sleep. He never even noticed the tiny green eye in the corner, which blinked and disappeared, returning Dareum’s vision back to his own eyes.

“That…was really fucking hot…” Dareum’s voice held his surprise. It was a very lucky thing that Orran wasn’t aware that he made his own noises when he masturbated, and an even luckier thing that he hadn’t seen the Eye of Killrogg Dareum had sent through the wall to investigate. When the warlock realized what was going on, he couldn’t help himself. He had to place the eye so he could see everything.

Dareum was breathing heavily, having just recovered from his own release. He channeled a brief flare of mana, conjuring up black flames. The fire licked across his body, emitting no warmth or feeling at all. The flames destroyed all filth, however, instantly removing the layers of sweat and grim that accompanied a day of travel ended with a voyeuristic masturbation session. They also instantly removed the semen which had landed and was now laying cool on Dareum’s flesh. When he was clean, the flames winked into nothingness. He was left alone, in the dark, with the knowledge that he apparently turned his companion on.

“Tomorrow’s going to be reeeeeeeeally awkward…” Dareum rolled over, pointing his back toward’s Orran’s room. He was already dreading what the morning would hold. It would be an exchange of embarrassed glances, half-started sentences, and a hell of a lot of blushing and fake-coughing. Dareum willed his eyes to close, forcing himself to sleep. “Damn…he’s really hot, too…” He slipped into unconsciousness.