We've done this three times before, in the booths at the back of the Crimson Minotaur. Three long nights of talking, laughing, and the soft nestle of your nose in the hair at the base of my shaft. A few drinks on either side, as the tavern bustles on outside, lost in our own little world of messy slurps and whispered banter and a few flushed giggles as the tips of your ears turn pink.

Three times, each more enjoyable than the last, and every time I find myself looking forward to it more when the round red door swings open to the tavern and I can finally lay my sword on the bench inside that little room and greet you again.

But you've never seen my face. Just the dusky rumble of my voice when my cock arches between your lips, a groan before I spill myself, and the long, low hush of shameless flirtation and stories about the world beyond the village. I'd told you of the time I laid an ogre low, a scrap of paper passed through that wet-slicked leather-rimmed hole, a drawing in terrible style of a little man facing down a giant. You'd laughed, and I'd blushed, on the other side of the wall, and told you of the knights in their finery. Just a human man, stopping by on his adventures, the night's stay stretching into one, then two, then three. A flash of hands and hair and skin, through the hole, a smile in sound alone.

You're good at it, of course, and getting better, your initial struggle to fit me giving way to a pleasing slurp and a rolling of your tongue, the musky length of me sliding easily and the soft purr from your throat making my knees go weak. But it's after, the stories and the whispered songs, your dreams spoken with shining eyes and messy lips, that make my heart twitch.

I've never seen your face, only heard your voice, when you stand on the the other side, when you kneel to accept me. The copper tossed through the wall is scarcely on my mind, and when the few minutes we should spend stretch into hours, I can feel my heart steeling for another adventure. A woman of a dozen races could be behind there, but she's you, and despite my foolish grin, I want you.

This is the fourth time, I know, as I step through the door, making my way through the crowd and snatches of song to find the red oak door at the back where I know you wait, in your little booth to pay for your keep.

We've done this three times before, but you've never seen my face. And I've never seen yours.

And would you, I whisper through the wall, want that to change as much as I do?

Wait a minute, is this a sappy high-fantasy romance told through a glory hole at the back of a bar?

Yup. Yeah, that's what it is. Our dashing adventurer has entranced a comely young lady through the same hole that he's placed his cock, just moments before, and regales her with stories, and she shares her dreams, even as the cum drips down her chin. Who are they? What's his quest, and what does she long for beyond the village?

We'll have to find out together, won't we?

Kinks for this one: Some good old-fashioned cocksucking, romance and chivalry, semi-clothed sex, Hobbits and orcs and goblins, too. Fantasy adventures shot through with sin and sweetness!

Limits: Teeth, torture, toddlers, toilet stuff, and elves. Shudder.

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