From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
Blah blah, Loren did a bunch of introspection that really, he well and could have done on his own without spending MP to get himself here. Then again, it was an intrinsically human trait to need a sounding board, so perhaps he did need this physics-bending respite to get his mind in order.
"Great. How about this: for every orgasm you conjure up, whether for yourself or someone else, the pain will fade away." It was like some bastardized version of positive reinforcement, with magic and orgasms. Though Frey wasn't necessarily a fan of taking the easy way out when it came to things like this, they also thought that the broken system of love that Mort had placed upon the hearts and minds of the mortals was a bit of a slog. The real cure for a broken heart was death, wherein Mort could right all the wrongs of one's life and reveal the rest of the pieces needed for their soft little mortal minds to understand the true tapestry of creation.
So apart from death, all Frey could really prescribe were orgasms. Which, luckily, was what they were wont to do anyways.
Well, after the whole floating in the ocean in the clouds, and even the philosophizing, this was a bit of an anticlimactic ending (pun intended). Loren blinked at Frey’s command. ”Alright. Sounds good to me.” While he wasn’t sure whether there was actually magic involved in these orgasms, or just good old-fashioned positive energy from sex, he didn’t know and he wasn’t about to ask for fear of what the deity might say. Granted, it was a rather open-ended commandment—and he figured he could just masturbate his way through it (sad wanking for the win!)—but he could do it. Whether he would, well, he wasn’t exactly physically affectionate, even with himself, at the best of times.
Oh, there'd be magic alright. Frey would leave it to the former-librarian to puzzle out if the euphoria he felt post-orgasm was a result of 1. magically-induced chemicals, 2. better orgasms, or 3. the lessening of his so called broken heart.
At the god’s offer, Loren felt all the blood immediately flood into his dick, which was suddenly rock hard. Not that it had been limp beforehand, but it had been at the back of his mind during the conversation, and he’d been able to think past his erection. Not so much anymore. Eagerly, he nodded, though he knew from their previous encounter that Frey probably had something specific in mind. ”Fuck yeah.” He was surprised at the heated tone that came out of his mouth.
Maybe he’d been thinking about the last orgasm a little more than he’d thought. Or maybe he just had a lot of tension to work through, and this was a much better way to relieve stress than he normally had access to. Or maybe, just maybe, he felt he’d gone through enough turmoil recently, and he’d earned a bit of fun.
Having sex with Frey was not, as those who have done it, quite like anything else. This is probably to be expected given their jurisdiction and all, but even so, the metaphysics of what the god had to offer were decidedly unpredictable but no less satisfying.
The air and milky-sea below seemed to meld into one as gravity took a brief timeout. The world itself was exactly Loren's body temperature leaving his limbs like unimportant extensions of himself. It was then that Frey seemed to disappear, only that didn't mean the Launceleyn would stop experiencing them with his senses. Instead Frey was instead of Loren; was Loren. In every synapse fired in his brain, ever duplicating cell, every muscle twitch and sensory receptor had been fully taken over. It would be one thing to simply turn Loren on his stomach and fuck him until he begged for it to stop. It was another entirely to do it to his entire being.
The feeling for the summoner would be a totally of experience, an overwhelming and indecipherable rush. In the hours and days later he'd not be able to articulate where it was Frey had been, other than simply to say everywhere. Hands that weren't corporeal grabbed at his ass, an arm slid beneath his thighs to grab at his lower back. Fingers parted his lips pressing down on his tongue, even as tongues and teeth nibbled at earlobes and nipples. Fingers scraped through his hair, some tugging the blonde tufts while others simply curled around the back of his head, pulling and pulling him further into the god. There was pressure against the balls of Loren's feet, hands kneading the often unforgotten flesh there as well as his palms. Untethered though Loren was, still fingertips splayed through his, stretching his arms wide of his head as teeth trickled down his neck and chest, splitting and duplicating to both continue this downwards trajectory but also to stop at each nipple.
Loren couldn’t exactly articulate what Frey did, or what he was feeling. Partially that was because he wasn’t sure he was capable of speech: a moan, heavy, heated, almost animalistic came from lips that suddenly felt like they were on fire. Of course, everything felt that way, a burning sensation that could only be rivaled by the previous orgasm the god had given him. Fuck, this felt good.
If he could have, he would have reached out to Frey, wanting to return the favor somehow, as laughable as that might sound, but how could he when they were everywhere, inside and out. Instead, he just focused on surrendering completely to the deity’s will and whims. After all, if Frey was in him, it stood to reason they were enjoying this too. He felt his body being spread, touched, worshipped, and he reveled in it. So as teeth and hands massaged, nipped, tugged, twisted, rubbed, he found himself responding to each and every one with a groan or a twitch, satisfaction and heat both spreading throughout his entire being.
The finger in Loren's mouth would suddenly push down on the Launceleyn's tongue, encouraging whatever latent reflex he might have to suck on it. As he did, he'd feel the sensation mirrored precisely around his erection. Frey had said Loren needed to be the architect of these orgasms, after all.
Straddling the precipice of heightened arousal vs. over stimulation was Frey's specialty. And so even as their ministrations grew more and more complex and impossible, never would Loren's already over saturated mind find it too much. A tongue pressed against Loren's asshole, at first slipping in and out slowly, but then somehow growing in size. Rather than moving inwards though, yet another tongue would appear lapping along to the rhythm of Loren's own oral ministrations, against groupings of nerves made precisely for this purpose.
Not wanting to leave all the work to the summoner, a hand would grip the base of Loren's erection holding as tight and pleasantly firm as any cock ring might. The summoner had cum far too quickly last time, not that Frey had been trying to make it last however. Tongues as dexterous as fingers, and fingers as soft as tongues would tug at the man's balls, pulling gently, holding, caressing as teeth bit at the inside of his thighs and the crease of his ass.
As the finger slipped further into his mouth and pressed down, Loren responded eagerly, his tongue darting around. And that was before he realized that everything he did with his mouth was sent directly to his cock: at that point he surged forward, taking the illusory finger deeper and deeper until it hit his throat and he had to suppress a gag. His tongue, agile and eager, slid around the fingertip, and he moaned around it as he felt the same thing happen to his dick.
The moan deepened and gained a rougher edge as first one, then another tongue found his ass, and then some secret spot that caused his eyes to roll up in his head and his body (the parts he had control of at least) to writhe in pleasure. His own tongue and mouth redoubled their efforts, sucking and licking at the finger, driving himself to higher and higher pitches of ecstasy. At this point, he wasn’t sure where he ended and the pleasure Frey was drawing out of him began. Not that he cared. All he wanted was to keep this going as long as possible, to drown in the incredible feelings they were providing him.
Then the god started playing with his cock, first at the base, then the balls, and he whined. If his mouth hadn’t been full, he would’ve been babbling out a string of obscenities and prayers, so instead he just thought them. Oh my fucking god; Frey; fuck yes; of fuck that feels good; again; harder. It was too much, yet not enough, and he kept bobbing his own head forward, adding his efforts to the euphoria winding through his mind and body.
Fingers pulled at Loren's hair as if the summoner's need was now some external force, pawing and pleading to be taken, to be consumed, to be had. As he sucked and pulled at the finger in his mouth, the finger seemed to pulsate his efforts right back as if it wasn't a finger at all, but some cock composed of fre(y)netic energy.
Hands held the Launceleyn's above his head still, as fingertips scraped down his ribs. There was no up or down in this metaphysical tear in the world and so even as Loren might have felt like he was on his back, he also very much wasn't: a hand pressed against the flat of the summoner's back, pushing him down while another raised his hips into the air, pushing his thighs apart. An entanglement of tongues traced out a symphony on the flesh between his ass and his balls, as the pressure inside of him deepened and pulsed. Hands that needed no leverage still gripped the summoner's hips causing phantom and satisfying slaps of skin on skin to reverberate through the milky sea.
Loren wanted harder? Oh he'd get harder, double meaning intended.
The hands on his hips grew desperate, fingertips pulling at the pale flesh as the tongues out and in pounding out a rhythm impossible for any mortal muscle. Lips whispered filthy promises and taunts against the shell of Loren's ear, punctuated by groans of his name in various pitches. It would be the one time in Loren's life that being told to go fuck yourself would be a welcome challenge.
However, this might be the first time he was backed into a challenge: Frey grabbed the summoner’s back and pressed it down and then his hips and thrust them into the air for better access. The Launceleyn didn’t mind in the slightest, given the tongues that licked every inch of his ass to his balls, causing him to shiver at the delicious sensation. Indeed if he’d been able to speak, he would’ve babbled encouragement. But his mouth was otherwise occupied.
The finger in his mouth had changed, become warmer, tastier, thicker, girthier even. He hummed in pleasure, which doubled in volume when he realized how good the vibrations felt. Obviously he recognized it for what it was and picked up the pace, head moving forwards and back at a rapid pace. He hollowed out his cheeks to increase the pressure for a few seconds, before slowing, and taking a few deep breaths through his nose. Next he eased the phantom cock forwards until it hit the back of his mouth. And then he pushed it a little further in, to the back of his throat.
The sensation was indescribable: even though he could only manage a few movements up and down before having to go back to sucking on it regularly, it still felt amazing to feel the deep throating on his own dick at the same time he did it to Frey. Switching it up a bit now, Loren let the god’s cock slip out of his mouth, but immediately licked up and down its entire length, once, twice, before letting his tongue swirl around the top, making sure to lavish attention on the extra sensitive head. Only when he’d properly tasted every piece of it did he start sucking on it again, eager and happy to please both the god and himself.
Then everything intensified, something he hadn’t thought possible. The tongues caressing his ass and balls and everything in between moved faster and rougher, the hands on his hips gripped tighter, and sounds filled his ears, the dirty words and beautiful renditions of his name sweeter than any music. He groaned and whined himself in response, a filthy and and sexual sound that he hadn’t known he was capable of making.
While Loren was busy quite literally pleasuring himself, the god slipped deeper into the folds of the Launceleyn. They wound themselves around his ribs, pulled the building tension out of his muscles, and invigorated every receptor on his cock, thighs, nipples, and lips so that he might experience everything fresh. Snaking through the cockles of his heart Frey worked their magic, for indeed it was magic and not merely mind-blowing sex, burying deep the cracks which had formed.
"Now for the big finale." Frey whispered, their voice echoing out from within Loren. It was then that the Launceleyn would find himself in a kaleidoscopic and metaphysically impossible sort of state. The ministrations of the cock in his mouth would indeed continue to be replicated on his own, but Loren would find the rest of his movements likewise had the same effect. He'd find his own hands suddenly on his own hips, the head of his cock snugly pressed against his ass. Like gods from other worlds, the summoner had as many hands and tongues as he liked. Like a sexual fractal spanning out into infinity, the summoner was free to do to himself and likewise be done in any manner he wished; with Frey coaxing it all along, of course.
Well there was something called a mind fuck for a reason. This just happened to be more literal than most.
Suddenly both Loren and Frey were everywhere, at least on and in the Launceleyn’s body. Or at least, he was suddenly more present than before. On top of that, every sense went intent overdrive, and his mind and body were practically on fire with pleasure. Whatever they had done to create this state, the summoner wasn’t going to complain. Indeed, he kept his mouth moving on...his dick? Frey’s dick? didn’t matter, it felt good, but his right hand slid down his chest to grip the base of his cock. He started stroking it slowly, wanting this moment to last.
However, as he felt his own dick slid against his ass he let out a little whimper. Without hesitation, he thrust his hips forward; though it stung, and he had to force himself to relax against the pain, he inched forward slowly but steadily. After all, he would always recover and FUCK he was tight and hot and felt fucking fantastic. Well, it had been a while, so he supposed that was to be expected.
Then he was all the way in, and he breathed a sigh of relief and desire. But there was still work to be done. Pulling out, he adjusted his angle, before slowly plunging back in. Again, and again, and again, until finally he hit a spot that caused him to throw back his head and his toes to curl and his back to arch.
Even now, though, he was thinking too small. His free left hand came up to pinch at his nipple, but there was more, still more he could do, and oh how he wanted it all. Another hand pinched his other nipple, while teeth nipped at his neck and nibbled at his earlobes, and tongues and mouths licked and sucked on his balls. All the while, he kept sucking and stroking his own dick and fucking his own ass, heat reaching a fever pitch as he picked up the pace everywhere.
It was indescribably, mind-blowingly, fucking amazing. Or amazing fucking, really.
An infinity of Loren's stretched out in the milky sea. Iterations of the Launceleyn as he'd never been before: hands tangled in his hair as a cock was shoved into his mouth and simultaneously, eyes looking up at him while lips wrapped around his cock and fingers explored the back of his thighs as a hungry tongue made quick work of him. Fingernails scraped down his back as lips moaned his name endlessly, teeth pulling at his earlobes and beginning for release. He was pressed against a wall, an arm snugly but pleasantly around his throat, fucked from behind with increasing fervor. Legs wrapped around his neck as his lips wrapped around a cock, his body astride his own, while precisely the same thing was happening in reverse.
And on and on it went, this obscured reality where the question of it being real was unimportant and distant compared to the uproar of pleasure coming in resounding waves, over and over again.
Though Frey didn't pull away, they seemed to re-center themselves low in the Launceleyn's belly. They seemed to radiate around the growing pressure in Loren's balls, flowing upwards towards the sensitive skin of his head and then surging back deep within, footing themselves in his thighs and down to his toes.
Loren didn’t know if the infinite versions of him all came at the same time, but that was definitely what it felt like. An orgasm wracked through him, all of him, every single one of him that he could feel, and they all screamed, moaned, groaned in pleasure, some muffled from the dicks in their mouths. His body, or bodies spasmed, every muscle tightening as his balls did, before he finally climaxed. His dick twitched, ropes of semen splashing onto this chests, his legs, his faces, or into that expanse of milky white, somehow managing to stand out against the similar liquid. They were lost in the waves of pleasure that washed over him, seemingly endless and impossibly good.
He didn’t know how long he floated in that bliss, forever, a few seconds (surely it was more than a few) as the aftershocks coasted through him, causing him to stretch and writhe a few more times as he came one final time, feeling it land on his own lips. He licked it, savoring the taste of himself, before sighing and letting himself float. For once, all the tension he carried around with him, all the stress, all the dark thoughts and heartbreak and worries were gone, and he just lay there in languid bliss.
