Only moments after the cloud vanished Roo was already breathing in the usual apples, livestock and other smells of Appleharth. The window was wide open, its shutter shattered, the smell of its oak fresh and splintered.
But now the breeze was hotter than Peaches’ gasp in his ear.
The sound of the usual cacophony of the town rose up from the streets outside. People waltzing over cobbles. Wagons rushing over it. From than a few chickens and cows strolling along. A rooster or two challenging all with its birdy authority.
The walls were plaster again, and ah, they were painted with plenty of apply goodness. Apple trees and apple baskets and apple everything all because Appleharth was obsessed with apples. The usual planks supporting the flat regular ceiling as jetties poking outside, but not a sign of any fairy lanterns, since Appleharth kept all their fairy lanterns in the streets, at the corners.
But in the corner of the room were some black iron squatter to chase away any fairies that strayed into the room, and a fine net of sewn black iron threads and a pole to capture the fairies to receive a small reward – as long as it clearly was a new fairy, and not one of the many lamped among the streets.
Roo strolled over to the window. His dragon scale a heavy relief, but he knew it would not of done him any good if those orc trolls had attacked.
Or if Camilla hadn’t hesitated. Preferring not to risk awakening his other Vorshaya powers.
Thank his mother for being a scholar who taught him so much.
And his fathers for knowing how to reveal what he knew and when.
But more burst techniques … he definitely would need to learn them,
Improve the techniques he did know.
The peaches and cream musk of Peaches and the cherry and roses musk of Ruby both reminded him how much he stood to lose if he stayed this weak.
And a promise was a promise.
Something killed his clan. Wiped them out. Unless he was strong enough … found the right allies too …
Roo leaned out of the window.
Ah.
They were on the same steep hill that was like a frown of Bishop Hagert. And the sky, oh, as strawberry pink as the lips he still wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss.
So he did.
Again and again and again.
And Peaches kissed him back. Again and again and again.
And a good bit behind her, a bed. A good simple one. The common kind in Appleharth and in most places. Just a simple a table lifting a lovely layer of batches of the longest, softest leaves and moss woven intricately and reliably together.
Together like Roo and Peaches now.
Clothes off quicker than a mutually double speed burst, and wow, did that translucent silk not lie one bit about her peachy bliss of holy endowed heaven. Her embrace was as peachy warm and soft as the best peaches and cream pie he whipped up for her to poke happy fun of her delightful smell, and how much did she love it.
She was already laying beautifully on the bed. Bare back on it. Thightastic legs clutching his hips and ah ah ahing inside her, his trouser blade big and firm inside her lovely elf girl sheath. His hand holding her heavenly endowed chest as she panted more and more and more.
Till they howled in mutual bliss.
And the door banged open.
And someone gasped, “What are you doing here?!”