It had been a long and hard-fought campaign, armor that was once shined to a gleam now battered and cut from a thousand blades. But they'd made it together, from the winding road out of Kingsbrook through the Blasted Lands, riding hard on Charger and Samson side by side. Ser Alyx would, of course, likely grin and add some sly-voiced comment about preferring a very different sort of ride, but... well, thinks Sir Lockwuyd, his journey companion is hardly right here at the moment.

A quest for gold and riches, they said, rescue the princess and win bounty beyond imagining for the safe return of the Warlock King's daughter.

So here he stands, sword in hand, bathed in the blood of ogres and steel cut and scraped around his shoulders, triumphant in the halls where the Princess had been held captive. I'm first, he thinks. Sure, he and Ser Alyx had shared many a treacherous day and dark night on the lonely, perilous road up here, but... well, the princess's charms could drive a wedge between any two men. And there she, a voice ringing out like seven bells in a clear blue sky.

"My father," she intones, every note positively dripping with grace, "has granted me leave to offer one wish, be it mortal or mystical, to my rescuer. Unfortunately..."

That perfect brow quirks up in frustration, and there he spies Ser Alyx, all jaunty grins and a shoulder-slung sword, striding into view with the toppled trunk of a bloodwood tree dead in the hallway beyond.

"There's two of you," the princess sighs, waving an elegant hand before turning back to Sir Lockwuyd. "I suppose you'll get the first go, then."

With a loaded glare at Ser Alyx, the knight sheathes his sword and thinks his thoughts of chivalry and... well, maybe a bit of selfishness.

"A manor for me and the most beautiful woman in the land," Sir Lockwuyd nods, smiling at the princess, unable to resist a glance at Ser Alyx before he completes his request. "Her heart, and two swords of the finest steel, my lady, and I'll die a happy man."

The princess could do a bit better job of not rolling her eyes quite so obviously, he has to admit, but she waves a hand and acquiesces to his proposal.

"Before I make that a reality," she sighs, turning to Ser Alyx. "I suppose you'll be wanting...?"

Ser Alyx only grins.

That night

The manor's keep is rich and warm, bearskins and silks adorning Sir Lockwuyd's chamber and fighting a losing battle against the draft. Still, there's heat and fire in the room, although the grate has long gone out.

"Are you fucking mad," he spits, hands yanking back on his lover's hips and digging one hand into her hair, tangled with sweat. She only grins back at him and rolls herself back onto him, shuddering at the sensation of fullness spreading her bowels wide.

"All that fucking time on the road," he grunts. "Pawing at me every night-" and crack goes his hand, slamming down on her ass to leave a reddened mark- "-and fighting by my side. I spend a wish on you, for you, and you wish for..."

Growling with frustration and a lust burning hot enough to melt him into a frenzy of hammering hips and the wild spirit of a passionate ass fuck, Sir Lockwuyd hauls back on Ser Alyx's hair as she blows him a kiss, one hand reached back to pull him inside her.

"'No lube needed,'" she winks, a most unladylike moan shivering through her body as she spears herself down with almost inhuman ease. "You're not complaining, are you?"

Okay, so I may have been re-reading George R. R. Martin's finest and was struck by his use of "Ser" as a knight's title. So here's a fantasy adventure, shot through with sodomy and a hint of love, in a world where Sir and Ser coexist as, funnily enough, his-and-her's titles. I'd love for you to join me!

For more prompts, feel free to browse my history or check out my profile