Chapter 5: Elana's Command
The humid air crackled between them. Elana’s smirk held, sharp and dangerous, but Alex saw the flicker of something else in her emerald eyes – a vulnerability quickly masked by bravado. Bold, little hunter. Her words hung, a challenge wrapped in velvet. Then she turned, presenting the perfect, impossible curve of her ass, muscles taut beneath smooth skin, the heavy weight of her cock swaying slightly against her thigh as she moved.
"Then taste me," she commanded, the purr deepening into a low thrum of dominance.
Alex’s breath hitched. The sheer audacity of it, the raw command after the overwhelming vulnerability of their joining by the pond… his mind stuttered. He saw the fading bruises his own fingers had left on her hips hours ago. He saw the faint tremor in her hand as she braced herself against a mossy boulder. But her posture was pure confidence, an unspoken dare.
He didn’t hesitate long. The scent of her, musk and jungle orchid and the lingering tang of their earlier passion, filled his senses. The memory of her careful hands washing him clean after, the surprising tenderness beneath the dominance… it pushed him past the ingrained fear of her kind, past his own ingrained shyness. He leaned forward, the cool moss damp beneath his palms as he positioned himself. His lips found the soft skin high on her inner thigh, just below the swell of her ass. A shudder ran through her.
"Lower," she breathed, the command less steady now. "Where you need to be."
He obeyed, shifting, his cheek brushing the heavy warmth of her cock resting alongside her leg. His eyes traced the path down, past the curve, to the tight, hidden place between her cheeks. He pressed his face against her, inhaling deeply. No sweetness, just a deep, primal, earthy musk that was uniquely her. He kissed the crease, the skin incredibly soft. He felt her tense, bracing, waiting for… what? Revulsion? Hesitation?
Instead, Alex let his tongue trace a slow, deliberate line upwards. The taste was complex, salt and musk and something fundamentally Elana. He pressed closer, his tongue seeking, exploring the tight furl. A low, choked groan escaped her, vibrating through her body and into his mouth. Her hand tangled in his dark hair, not guiding, just holding, her grip tightening as he lapped more firmly.
"Ah! Fuck, Alex…" Her voice was ragged, stripped of its usual control. Her hips pushed back minutely against his face, a silent demand for more. He gave it, his tongue circling, probing gently at first, then with increasing pressure, tasting her deeply. Her scent, her taste, the subtle clenching under his tongue… it was overwhelming, intimate in a way that felt even more vulnerable than what they’d shared before. This wasn't just taking; it was savoring. Worshiping.
Her other hand gripped the boulder, knuckles white. Her cock, heavy against her thigh, began to thicken, a drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip. "Yes… just like that. Gods… your mouth…" Her words fractured into gasps as he worked her relentlessly, finding a rhythm that made her thighs tremble. The power dynamic had subtly shifted. She held his head, but he held her pleasure, wringing these raw, unfiltered sounds from her, sounds no one else had likely ever heard, sounds born of acceptance, not mockery.
She pushed back harder, grinding against his face, a desperate, seeking motion. "Harder. Don't… stop…" He obeyed, his tongue thrusting deeper, his nose pressed against her skin. The jungle sounds faded beneath her ragged breathing and the slick, intimate sounds of his ministrations. He felt her inner muscles flutter wildly around his tongue. Her cock was fully hard now, pulsing against her leg.
Her climax built not with the explosive force of their first encounter, but as a deep, shuddering wave. Her hips jerked erratically, her cry was a long, guttural moan torn from her chest, echoing off the water. She held his head locked in place as she rode the intense, internal pulses against his mouth, her entire body trembling. Finally, she slumped forward slightly, her grip on his hair loosening, her breaths coming in deep, heaving gasps.
Alex pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against the small of her back for a moment, breathing heavily himself. Her skin tasted of salt and satisfaction. The silence that followed was profound, broken only by their ragged breathing and the distant call of a jungle bird.
Elana slowly straightened, turning to face him. Her cheeks were flushed high on her cheekbones, her green eyes wide, pupils dilated, holding a dazed, almost stunned expression. She looked utterly disarmed, the fierce mask completely gone. There was a vulnerability in her gaze he’d never seen, raw and a little bewildered. She stared at him, her lips slightly parted, speechless. Her cock, still impressively hard, jutted between them, a stark contrast to the soft confusion on her face.
Alex wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, meeting her gaze. The shyness was still there, a familiar undercurrent, but it was tangled now with a fierce surge of… pride? Possessiveness? He’d done that. He’d shattered her control. He’d given her this.
The stunned silence stretched, thick as the jungle heat. Elana stared, her green eyes wide pools reflecting fractured moonlight and utter disbelief. She blinked, long lashes brushing flushed cheeks. A shaky breath escaped her parted lips. "Alex..." His name was a whisper, stripped bare, devoid of its usual teasing edge. She seemed adrift, utterly unmoored from her confident persona.
He didn't look away. His own heart hammered against his ribs, a wild drum echoing the pulse he’d felt moments ago fluttering against his tongue. The taste of her, earthy and sharp, still lingered. He saw the vulnerability laid bare in her slack expression, the tremble in the hand that wasn't still braced on the moss-slick boulder. It mirrored the shock he’d felt after the pond, but deeper, more profound. He’d done that. Taken charge. Given her that surrender.
A slow, tentative grin spread across Alex’s face, surprising himself. It felt raw, genuine, born from the fierce satisfaction coiling in his gut. "Told you I was bold," he murmured, his voice rougher than intended. He pushed himself up from his knees, moss clinging to his damp skin. Her gaze followed him, tracking his movement with dazed intensity. Her cock, still thick and heavy, twitched visibly as he rose.
Elana swallowed hard. "Bold doesn't... quite cover it, little hunter." She tried for her usual smirk, but it faltered, trembling at the corners. Her eyes flickered down his body, then back to his face, searching. "You... you actually... wanted to?"
The question hung there, fragile. Alex closed the small distance between them. He didn't flinch from her nakedness, from the sheer scale of her softening cock resting against her thigh, or the dampness glistening between her legs – traces of his own mouth. He reached out, his fingers brushing a damp strand of golden hair away from her forehead. The gesture felt shockingly intimate. "Yeah," he said, simply. "I did. Wanted to taste you. All of you." He let his thumb trace the sharp point of her ear, feeling the delicate cartilage beneath.
A visible shudder ran through her. Her hand flew up, catching his wrist. Not forcefully, not to stop him, but to hold his touch against her skin. Her fingers were cold. "Why?" The word cracked. "After... after the pond... why this?" Her gaze was intense, pleading almost, desperate for understanding. "Most wouldn't. They see it... and mock. Or fear."
He saw the ghosts of past humiliations shadowing her eyes. He remembered the tremor when she’d asked permission to clean him. "Because," Alex said, leaning in slightly, his other hand settling tentatively on her hip, feeling the fading bruises his own fingers had made hours ago. "It’s part of you. A beautiful, powerful part." He met her gaze squarely, forcing his voice steady despite the heat rising in his cheeks. "And after everything... after the storm, losing everything... after you..." He swallowed. "I wanted to give you something good. Something real." He paused, the casual admission hanging between them. "Also, you taste incredible."
A choked sound escaped her – half laugh, half sob. She released his wrist, her hand instead curling around the back of his neck, pulling his forehead down to touch hers. Her breath hitched. "Incredible?" Her voice was thick. "You’re either mad, or..." She trailed off, exhaling shakily against his skin. Her grip tightened. "Or the first decent thing that’s happened in this gods-forsaken jungle." She pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. The vulnerability was still there, but softening, warming. A tentative, genuine smile finally touched her lips. "Guess that settles it. You are mad."
He grinned back, the shared absurdity cutting through the tension. "Probably." He glanced down at their scattered, waterlogged belongings barely visible in the gloom beyond the reeds. "Mad enough to think we can salvage anything useful from this mess. My flint’s probably at the bottom of the pond."
Elana followed his gaze, her expression shifting towards practicality, though her hand remained lightly on his neck. "Mine too, most likely. Dry tinder’s going to be the real challenge." She sighed, the familiar wryness creeping back into her voice, but softer now. "Still. Better than facing a Gurubashi patrol soaked in pond scum and..." Her eyes flickered down his body again, a spark of her old mischief returning. "...evidence."
Alex felt a blush creep up his neck. "Right. Evidence." He stepped back reluctantly, the cool night air hitting his damp skin where her warmth had been. He gestured towards the murky water. "Another dip? Make it official?"
"Later," she said, turning towards the shore with surprising briskness. Her confidence seemed to be rebuilding, brick by brick, but the foundations felt different now. Less brittle. She scooped up her torn leather leggings from where they lay tangled with reeds. "First, salvage. Then fire. Then…" She paused, glancing back at him over her shoulder. Moonlight caught the curve of her ass, the heavy length of her cock resting against her leg. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face, less cheeky, more… intimate. "Then maybe you can show me exactly where you learned to use that tongue. For… research purposes."
He stared, momentarily speechless, the heat returning with a vengeance. Before he could formulate a reply, she added, her tone turning practical again but leaving the promise hanging, "And see if you can find any intact arrows. Unless you plan on throwing rocks at dinner." She waded out, the water sluicing down her powerful legs as she headed for the chaos of their gear.
Alex stood rooted for a second, the echo of her final words sending a fresh jolt through him. Research purposes. Right. He shook his head, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. Mad. Definitely mad. But grinning, he turned and plunged back into the cool water after her, the lingering taste of her surrender still sharp on his tongue. The salvage operation suddenly felt a lot more interesting.
The moonlit salvage operation became a chaotic ballet of damp leather and muttered curses. Alex wrestled a waterlogged bedroll from beneath a thorny vine, the ancient fabric tearing like wet parchment in his hands. "Stromgarde's finest canvas," he grunted sarcastically, tossing the ruined mass aside. "Lasted a whole two weeks."
Elana snorted nearby, her bare knees sinking into the mud as she pried open a dented metal strongbox. "My bowstring looks like boiled noodles," she announced, holding up the hopelessly stretched cord. "So much for dinner unless you fancy raw parrot." Her green eyes scanned the debris field – shattered arrows, torn pouches leaking herbs, her beautiful runed armor scuffed and muddy. The confident spark was back, but tempered by the sheer scale of the disaster. "Found my whetstone, though," she added, holding up a smooth grey stone. "Small victories."
He straightened, wiping mud from his brow with the back of his hand. His own meager supplies fared worse: a soaked bag of travel biscuits reduced to paste, a snapped fishing line, a single water-stained map. Hope dwindled like the moonlight. "My flint's gone," he admitted, patting his empty belt pouch. "Stone and steel, both vanished. Fire's out of the question." The reality of a cold, predator-filled night pressed in. He shivered, still damp from the pond and the jungle's clinging humidity.
Elana slammed the strongbox shut with a hollow clang. "Perfect." She pushed herself up, mud streaking her powerful thighs. Her gaze landed on him, lingering on the goosebumps rising on his bare arms. A flicker of something – concern? calculation? – crossed her face before the familiar teasing mask slid back. "Guess we’re sharing body heat tonight, banshee boy. Hope you don't snore." She grinned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. The vulnerability from moments ago was carefully tucked away.
He met her gaze, the memory of her taste, her surrender, still vivid. That vulnerability lingered beneath her bravado, a crack in her formidable armor he hadn't known existed before tonight. He saw the faint tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers drummed restlessly on the strongbox. She was putting it back on – the confidence, the dominance – but he’d seen behind the curtain. "Only if you promise not to hog the moss," he retorted, forcing a lightness he didn't entirely feel. He picked up a snapped arrow shaft, testing its uselessness. "Maybe we can find something dry enough to burn under the big ferns? Less exposed."
"Worth a shot," she conceded, turning towards the denser undergrowth fringing the oasis. Moonlight caught the long, graceful line of her back, the powerful curve of her ass, the undeniable presence of her cock resting heavily against her thigh as she moved. She paused, glancing back. "Coming? Or are you admiring the view?"
Heat flushed Alex’s neck. "Scouting for tinder," he mumbled, quickly joining her. They pushed through thick ferns, leaves slick against their skin. The air grew thicker, the scent of decay stronger. Elana knelt, her fingers probing beneath a massive, waxy leaf. "Here," she murmured, pulling out a handful of surprisingly dry, fibrous husks. "Monkey-nest lining. Burns fast, but it burns." She held it out.
He reached for the husks, their fingers brushing. A spark, small but undeniable, jolted through the contact. Their eyes locked in the deep green gloom. The jungle hummed around them, but the space between them crackled with unspoken tension. He saw her breath catch, saw the playful mask slip again, revealing the raw, questioning look from the pond's edge. The vulnerability he’d uncovered. The acceptance he’d offered.
The damp husks crumpled slightly in his grip. He didn't look away. The memory of her command – "Then taste me" – warred with the sight of her stunned, softened expression afterward. He’d surprised her. He’d given her something beyond dominance. He took a half-step closer, the dry tinder forgotten. Her green eyes widened slightly, tracking his movement, searching his face. The challenge, the invitation, was still there, but so was that fragile uncertainty he now recognized.
He didn't speak. Words felt clumsy, unnecessary. He simply closed the remaining distance. His hand, still holding the husks, rose slowly to cradle the back of her neck, fingers tangling in the damp gold of her hair at her nape. Her skin was warm, slightly gritty with dried pond sediment. He felt the subtle tension in her muscles, the slight intake of breath. Her gaze held his, wide and unblinking, stripped bare.
He leaned in. Not rushed. Not demanding. Just… inevitable. His lips met hers.
Soft. That was his first, jarring thought. Softer than he’d imagined, given her sharp tongue and sharper confidence. Her lips yielded under his, warm and surprisingly pliant. The taste was faintly salty, earthy, uniquely her, mixed with the green scent of crushed ferns. For a heartbeat, a suspended moment, she was utterly still beneath his touch, frozen in surprise. Her hands hung at her sides, the dry tinder forgotten.
Then, a low sigh escaped her, a release of breath he felt against his mouth. Her hands came up, not pushing him away, but settling tentatively on his hips, her touch light, almost hesitant. Her lips moved then, a slow, cautious response
Her hands came up, not pushing him away, but settling tentatively on his hips, her touch light, almost hesitant. Her lips moved then, a slow, cautious response. It was a question, a testing of the waters after the raw intensity of the pond and the vulnerability by the shore. He felt the slight tremor in her fingers where they rested on his skin, damp from the pond and the jungle air.
He held her neck gently, anchoring them both in the humid gloom beneath the giant ferns. His other hand, still clutching the dry husks, lowered slowly to his side. He focused only on the softness of her lips yielding under his, the faint taste of jungle salt and something uniquely Elana – wild orchid and iron. The hesitant pressure of her mouth sent a jolt through him, different from the pond's desperate heat, deeper somehow. More terrifying.
She sighed again, a warm rush against his mouth. Her tentative touch on his hips firmed, pulling him fractionally closer. Her lips parted, just a sliver. An invitation. Or a surrender. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum against the jungle's low thrum. He deepened the kiss cautiously, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. She opened for him with a small, breathy sound.
SHE DEEPENS KISS.
The tentative exploration vanished. Her mouth opened fully under his, hot and demanding. The kiss wasn't gentle anymore. It was a collision. Her tongue met his, not cautious, but claiming, sliding against his with a sudden, fierce hunger that stole his breath. Her hands clamped onto his hips, fingers digging in, pulling him flush against her. The unexpected power of it, the sheer demand radiating from her, made his knees buckle slightly. He held onto her neck for balance, his fingers tightening in her damp hair.
Heat flooded him, instantaneous and intense. The taste of her, the wet slide of her tongue, the urgent pressure of her body – it obliterated the memory of the sodden gear, the cold pond, the lurking Gurubashi. There was only her mouth, hot and insistent, her breath mingling with his in desperate gasps between kisses. Her cock, still thick and heavy, pressed insistently against his hip, a hard, undeniable presence adding to the dizzying onslaught. She kissed like she fought – all fierce focus, overwhelming strength, leaving him reeling.
Her teeth grazed his lower lip, a sharp, possessive nip that sent sparks down his spine. A low groan vibrated from her chest into his mouth. Her hips rocked forward instinctively, grinding the hard length of her cock against him. The friction, even through the dampness clinging to them both, was electric. He felt her trembling, but it wasn't weakness; it was the sheer intensity of whatever storm had been unleashed within her.
He kissed her back with everything he had, matching her fire, losing himself in the heat and the taste and the impossible reality of Elana kissing him like this. Not commanding, not taking, but kissing him, lost in it. His hand slid from her neck down her strong back, feeling the powerful muscles tense and move beneath smooth skin slick with sweat and the jungle's damp breath. He pulled her impossibly closer, needing to erase every shred of space between them.
Her fingers slid from his hips, one hand raking up his spine, the other tangling fiercely in his dark hair, holding his mouth locked to hers. Her kiss was a devouring thing now, deep and consuming, leaving no room for thought, only sensation. The dry husks crumbled forgotten onto the jungle floor. He felt her nails scrape lightly against his scalp, a jolt of pure sensation that made him gasp into her mouth.
She broke the kiss suddenly, pulling back just enough to gasp for air. Her green eyes blazed into his, wide and dark, pupils swallowing the fractured moonlight. Her chest heaved. A thin strand of saliva connected their lips for a second before breaking. She stared at him, breathing hard, a wild, almost panicked look on her flushed face. Her hand was still knotted in his hair, her other splayed possessively on his back. Her cock throbbed visibly against his hipbone.
"Alex..." Her voice was a wrecked whisper, raw and stripped bare. Not a command. A question. A plea. Confusion warred with the lingering heat in her eyes. She looked utterly undone, the fierce Blood Elf warrior replaced by someone shaken, vulnerable, clinging to him. Her fingers in his hair trembled.
"Yeah," he breathed, just as ragged. He didn't let go of her back, his own heart thundering. The taste of her was still on his tongue, sharp and addictive. He saw the flicker of fear behind the intensity in her gaze – the fear of this thing unraveling between them, bigger than the storm, bigger than the pond. Bigger than either of them knew how to handle. "Elana."
She swallowed hard, the sound loud in the sudden quiet beneath the ferns. Her gaze flickered down to his mouth, then back to his eyes. The hand on his back slid up to cradle his cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of his kiss-swollen lips. The touch was startlingly tender, unfamiliar territory for both of them. Her voice, when it came, was husky, laced with a dazed wonder. "Hells... what are we doing?"
He leaned into her touch, the rough pad of her thumb tracing the shape of his lip. The jungle pressed close, damp and watchful. He had no answer. Only the pounding in his chest, the lingering heat where their bodies met, and the overwhelming scent of crushed ferns and Elana. He saw the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. Survival felt very far away.
"We should really..." she started, her eyes darting towards the scattered gear barely visible through the foliage, her voice trailing off like she'd forgotten the end of the sentence. Her thumb still traced his lip. Her other hand remained fisted in his hair. The enormous length of her cock rested heavily against him, a reminder of the precipice they stood on. She didn't move. Neither did he. The humid air crackled with unspoken hunger and the terrifying weight of something new.