Two red lips pursed as she watched him work, offering him a purr of approval as soon as she could make out the outline of turgid thickness<em>quite a few</em>layers later. Slowly, Dark Methuseld, whatever creature that referred to, was surrendering to her instincts. She watched him work off his clothes, picturing the length of his member, how smooth it would feel, how hot. With a mental smirk she realized she was about to be caught between a rock and a hard place – not as bad as people made it out to be! She suppressed the thought – she knew how to not kill moods, or at the very least threaten their deaths.<br/><br/>He spoke, confirming what both of them long knew – he was going to stuff himself inside of her, impale her as deeply as he could, mount her on his pole. But damn if he wasn’t a little cheesy while he was doing it! “Get that big instrument out here, then!” Slightly more impatient than she’d wanted to sound, but if anything he deserved it! Using that damned magic on her… why were healing and fucking so synonyms to whatever-the-heck outfit of Knights he belonged to? She was sure it had made her absolutely wild with passion… like a starved woman seeing noble’s dinner, it was taking all her effort to hold back. Soon, she knew soon she could fuck him with abandon and he wouldn’t protest, wouldn’t mind, ignore any and all alarms that went off in his head. But there wouldn’t be an alarm, of course… she was just a harmless little sex-starved kitten (the sex-starved fox was elsewhere), and all she wanted was to play with the new toy…<br/><br/>All the toys!<br/><br/>Soon his leathers and linens were down around his thighs. A black armored boot pulled them lower, to his ankles, with expert litheness reminiscent of a little monkey, using all limbs with equal dexterity. A dark-gloved hand reached down to his groin, first gently tracing a path along a powerful tan thigh… a slight tickling sensation accompanying… And then down to his sack, gentle as could be, fingertips teasing and tracing, soft yet confident and competent. Then the probing extremity slithered its way up to his engorged shaft, giving it a few good pumps, smoothly worn black leather gliding with just the right amount of friction against his bare, sensitive skin. Then she formed a ring with her thumb and middle finger, wrapping them as fully around him as they would go, squeezing against the hardness of his meat. Slightly rough, just the barest hint of pain, but also a hint at just how hard she’d be willing to get it, since she seemed okay giving it.<br/><br/>“Come on, Knight, show me what you’re made of, have your way with me…”<br/><br/>Maybe it was some sort of sexy black magic, but there was no way normal Methuseld was that flexible… As he pried her thighs apart, she moved them even further and further out for him - body now shaped a little like an anchor. It was easy to believe that if he wanted to, he could push her legs all the way back so her knees touched her shoulders, using her body for leverage even more effectively. Soon the tip of his sword was up against her warm, inviting entrance – the perfect scabbard for him. She felt the warmth, the softness, the pressure of inches and inches of rock-hard length just behind it… And the dark woman wrapped her legs around him as best she could (mostly just her feet), applying her own pressure on him with those powerful, toned, ivory legs. Begging him, beckoning him, demanding that he slip himself inside her soaked little flower, tight and hot like a kiln, like being deepthroated by a damned dragon.<br/><br/>“Come on,<em>claim</em>it!”<br/>