Chapter 11 Emmie
Emmie
“Come, sit. Break bread with me, Emmie.” Portarius calls out as I return to the main room.
He lifts the lid on the tray as I lean over the steaming bowl of casserole, my mouth watering from the rich herbs and spices.
He reaches out, lifting me onto his thigh so I'm comfortably resting against him.
We eat in relative silence, with only the tap of the metal spoon hitting the side of the bowl.
There is a rhythm in how we share a meal, a rhythm I could become used to.
Never in my life have I eaten so intimately, but as I tear a piece of bread and place it in his mouth, he offers me a spoonful of casserole.
Our movements synchronised, like we have always done this, and I wonder not for the first time, if this was more than an accidental Gate passing.
At this point, I'm almost convinced that fate herself made this arrangement and ensured it was executed step by step.
“No more, please. I’m stuffed,” I say, looking up at him and smiling. I could fall into a coma, but the layer of filth that covers my body reminds me that a hot, steaming bath awaits, and I'm itching to get clean.
“You stay and finish the meal, I'm desperate to get into the bath. I'm crunchy in places that shouldn’t be crunchy."
I tug down on his shoulder, and he leans into me, allowing me the perfect height to whisper in his ear.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say, softly. “My favourite part was sitting with you.” Smiling up at him, I'm certain that if I had ended up in another realm, I would be on the fast track to being turned into a damned, or worse, have my soul released.
Closing the bathroom door, I practically skip to turn off the taps.
This bath has possibly become my most anticipated event of the year.
The water level looks perfect as steam escapes the surface in soft wisps.
Throwing the Portarius sized shirt I wear off, I climb over the edge and slide into the hot water, a low guttural moan echoing around the room.
This. Is. Heaven. Definitely not Hell.
A washcloth and soap rest on the edge of the bath, and I reach for it, gingerly sudsing the soap until it consumes the cloth.
I get to work scrubbing my feet, arguably the dirtiest part of my body, when the sound of the bathroom door opening draws my attention.
The water sloshes as I turn and gasp, seeing Portarius stroll casually into the room.
In one swoop, his cotton shirt is removed, his muscles rippling as he takes each step.
He stares at me, hiding underneath the water, moving his long braid over his shoulder so it falls down his back, never once breaking eye contact.
Dazed, his body is so defined it would be a crime to look anywhere else.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea rips through me. Clutching my stomach, I barely have time to register the water splashing as Portarius expertly climbs in next to me.
“Emmie, are you well!?” he says, alarmed.
Crouching down, he holds onto my upper arm, and I'm grateful the water level is so high. Everything that should be covered, is. Especially with how hard my nipples are after watching that titillating smoke show.
“I think it's passing.” I huff. “Fuck. It felt like a bolt of lightning going through me.” I'm probably still getting used to this realm. What did he call it? Acclimating. Most of the pain has passed, his worried brow focused on me as the woozy feeling dissipates.
“You should be getting better, though. There should not be pain like this. We will call on the potion master when the red sun rises. He will find an essence to aid in your acclimation.”
Standing, he still has his pants on, his completely saturated pants now showing me the perfect outline of his cock. Ridges are spread across his thick shaft, and for once, I hope he's not a grower because how the flying fuck does something that big fit inside anyone, let alone a human.
He makes the tentacle dildo I had look like a cheerio sausage.
Averting my gaze, I try not to look as he removes his pants completely and sinks into the hot water. I saw it when we climbed out of the Gate, but I never really looked at it. It's glorious.
“Why do you wear cotton?” I question, huddled into the side of the bath, as far away from him as I can.
“It is breathable.”
A short, sharp statement which is as accurate as it is confusing.
“Shouldn't you be in leather or a loincloth or something?” I turn to face him, remembering I'm naked, sliding further down into the water.
“Leather is not practical in this realm. I would sweat like Equina after a hard ride. It is better suited to those who roam Realm Five, where it is cooler.”
He leans forward, pulling me into him, and I freeze as he drags me, spreading his large, muscular thighs until I’m resting between them. He doesn't seem bothered that we're both naked, and that I can feel his ridged member pressed against my spine.
He takes the washcloth from my clasped hand and the soap from the other, lifting one of my arms and gently scrubbing it clean.
Slowly, my shoulders drop, and the tension fades as he works across my back and other arm.
Both hands cleaning across my stomach before moving up to my breasts.
He touches them as he has the rest of my body, making sure they are clean, along with my chest and neck.
My nipples harden as his hands caress and rub each breast, arching my back as he swipes past the stiff buds.
A direct bolt of pleasure shocking my clit, making me gasp.
Closing my eyes, I'm lost to his hands, the way they move down to my hips, missing the one place I want them to explore.
“How many realms are there?” I pant, willing his hands to move where I desperately want them to go, but they move further down my legs as his body curls around me.
He brings my knees up and parts my legs.
My head falling back against his chest. Any pain I was experiencing has long since gone.
My focus is on the large pair of hands inching toward my pussy. Tracing patterns along my inner thighs.
“There are Seven Realms, Emmie. Now it is my turn for a question?” He breathes quietly in my ear.
“Will you teach me to touch your forbidden centre?”
YES. Yes, yes, yes!
Panting, my fingers dig into his thighs as I nod my head. Okay, be cool. “Yes. Call it a pussy or … or cunt. You can touch me.” Nailed it.
He emits a long growl as I wait, legs spread for him to get to work.
“Cunt. I like this word.”
The lightest touch of his fingertips grazes across my pussy, the tease making me whimper.
“Show me how to touch your cunt, Emmie.”
Lord have mercy for I'm about to sin. Reaching out, his fingers hover just over my pussy, and I waste no time pulling one against my clit and rocking my hips.
I firmly hold it against me as I scramble for his other hand and bring two of his thick fingers to my entrance, panting as I ease them inside me.
Oh god. The stretch. His fingers are so big it's almost painful as I try to change to a kneeling position.
“Turn and face me, I want to watch you.”
His voice is strained as he holds me steady while I swivel on his lap, straddling him.
His cock is hard between us, but I’m not brave enough to rub myself against it just yet.
Facing him like this feels vulnerable, and I look away from his intense stare.
He doesn't pull me closer, but he returns his hands to my pussy, his fingers stroking back and forth as they explore.
But it's not enough. Moving one of his hands, I place his fingers at my entrance again and sink down onto them.
The familiar stretch has my head lolling to the side, my eyelids half closing in bliss.
His other hand moves to my hip, and he holds onto me as I begin my slow rhythm.
“Have you ever kissed, Portarius?” I pant.
It's a slow torture, what I'm doing with him. Does he know what this means between humans? Am I asking too much to press my lips against his and feel how soft they are?
“Kissed?”
Leaning forward, his hard length hits my clit perfectly, and he lets out another low carnal growl.
Closing my eyes, I press my lips against his mouth.
My hips increase in speed, and I run my fingers against the side of his head and down his back, digging them into his skin as I bring them back up and hold his head, my tongue seeking entrance.
I'm not sure if he opens his mouth to let me in or if he was planning on talking, but the instant our tongues touch, he consumes me, and we're lost in a fever of grinding.
“I'm close.” I pant, not sure if he understands, but I need to let him know just the same. Moving one hand, I reach down to his length, grabbing onto the largest cock I’ve ever touched.
I can feel the hard ridges along its length, and I know they will feel amazing buried inside me.
I'm tempted to lift off his fingers and try to mount him, but thankfully, my rational mind knows I need to be well and truly warmed up for that.
I push his cock against my clit, the harder pressure just the right amount to clench down on his fingers as I fall over the edge.
Calling out his name as wave after wave of my orgasm rolls through me.
Holding onto his cock, I feel something hard drag along the inside of my wrist. Portarius grunts and moans as I squeeze him.
The water spilling over the edge with his movements, and I gasp as I look down to where I touch him.
An iridescent purple glow comes from the tip of his cock.
I give him one more firm stroke, and the barb-like object opens, almost like a flower in bloom.
A creamy white haze spilling out of its centre as he comes.
The milky substance mixes with the bath water, making a foggy cum cloud.
“Emmie,” he pants, his face searching mine.
I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, stifling a whimper as I lift myself off his fingers.
Missing the fullness of them inside me. His eyes hungrily devour my body as I sit, still facing him, with my breasts well and truly exposed from the amount of water that now lies outside the bath.
I move to place one hand on his chest when he cups my breast, lifting it up, intensely staring, growling, “Emmie … the Ananea. You have been poisoned.”