10 Doomguard Walk, Hashkar 125 [Adult Content]

[Uathach Blackmantle]

Uathach crept silently on soft soled boots out of the room, and eased the door shut behind her. She paused on the other side, her hand still poised on the handle, both to hear the soft click of the latch, and to wait until the hacking coughs within, evened out to the shallow breathing of fevered sleep.

Satisfied that the gaunt, ailing woman wouldn't stir again until morn, she started off down the short, dim hallway back to her own room. Her footsteps were just as quiet as before, so as not to disturb the slumbering form of her mother.

Uathach yawned and heaved an exhausted sigh.

The poor wretch...

She'd been sick for years, wasting away before her eyes from the foul cancer that slowly consummed her body. For as long as the deeply disturbed tiefling could remember: Her whole short life, or so it seemed.

Overcome by a sudden fit of crushing despair, Uathach sagged against the wall and began to cry. The black fist of sorrow seized her by the throat, pulling the tiefling girl, barely into womanhood, to her knees; and there she remained, bowed in supplication to the grief of her mother's horrid fate.

Outside, the reverberating peal of the Cage's clocktowers heralded the precise moment that nightfall slipped into Anti-Peak. For a few minutes, it seemed, the torus of Sigil rang with the echoing sound, as each time piece chimed in clockwork harmony; engineered only by those with impeccable understanding of the Perfect Order.

Sobbing in misery, with her forehead pressed to the russet and carmine wool rug in abject defeat, Uathach didn't hear the footsteps approaching from the narrow stair-case. She only raised her tear-stained face as the brightly polished, military laced, black leather boots halted a few inches away.

"Uathach... What are you doing awake, girl?" The harsh, grating voice of the genasi Coldblood brusquely demanded.

Uathach quivered in the dark, thermal shadow cast by the Flame Lord's heat-limned silhouette.

The Fated fire genasi grinned at her, baring even pearlescent teeth that flashed in contrast with his coal black skin. His handsome visage and arrogant smile were veiled mostly in gloom. Yet an inner radiance seemed to shine through his ebon flesh; setting his features and flame red hair ablaze in bas-relief against the feeble light.

"Marrak..." She began to explain, shrinking away from the stylish black glove, framed by a ruffled silk cuff, that extended toward her. Uathach pressed her back against the wall, and allowing her hands to guide her tentative movements, she rose unsteadily to her feet again, and wiped the tears away with shaking fingers. "I had to check on her again. She's so weak, she's been coughing up blood all night..."

"Forget about her. Yrrinna was a worthless whore; she's lucky that she wasn't penned into the dead-book five years ago." The genasi Fated spat with obvious distaste and contempt. It was no secret that he detested her mother, even before she fell ill with the terminal consumption.

Uathach blinked back her tears, and struggled to contain that mordant sorrow, stinging her eyes anew, and threatening to spill forth. "She's.. my... mother! I can't abandon her now. She needs me! How can you be so cruel?"

"Cruel?" Marrak roughly interjected, seizing Uathach by the shoulders, and pressed her hard against the wall. His eyes were as hot coals, scorching her face with his scornful glare, and stabbed into her mind with the force of a razor sharp knife. She shrank - wilted - beneath his heated fury. "This is the real world, girl. Life is hard, life is cruel. She's the addle-coved wench who spread her legs for a fiend; she's reaped the rewards of what she sowed."

"You're saying she deserves to suffer?"

He didn't move, didn't even blink. A muscle in his jaw twitched for a moment, before his visage reverted back to chiselled arrogance and stillness. "Yrrinna will get no pity from me, girl. Now get back to bed. There's naught left that you can do for her now." He finally released her, and started to walk away.

Uathach began to cry again, and this time she didn't even bother to stem the flow of her bitter tears.

Marrak stopped and scowled at her, but the hardened light in his eyes softened somewhat. Quite unexpectedly, he leaned closer to her, and tenderly brushed the saline flow from her cheeks, and eyelids. His fingers were hot, yet strangely soothing. Even through the leather glove, Uathach felt the latent heat radiating from his coal black skin, and quivered beneath his feathery touch. Perhaps more alarming than his closeness, she leaned into his caress, and nuzzled the fingers that so tenderly stroked her face; blissfully unaware of the hidden intentions behind his touch.

"Think of it this way, girl: don't waste your talents - or your tears - on a doomed woman, even if she is your parent. She's better off lost. If you must, at least direct your skills to a sod who deserves them more than the berk who causes his own problems; and can't compensate you for your efforts."

Uathach averted her eyes if only to avoid meeting the genasi's piercing stare, and swallowed another strangled sob; gasping miserably as her throat constricted for a moment, and a dull pain squeezed her heart. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with shaking fingertips. "It's not the jink I care about..."

"You should care about it, girl." Marrak harshly corrected her, gripping her chin with strong fingers and turned her face so that she couldn't look away again. "Jink is the lifeblood of the Cage, whether you're canny enough to realise that or not. It makes little difference. Without it, you have nothing, not even the necessities to sustain existence. Take a good look at the squallor of the Hive if you don't believe me, girl. There's no charity for a sod down on his luck... as it should be."

Uathach said nothing, and simply stared at him through tired, misty eyes.

"How is it then that you buy your mother's medicines? With jink that you earned yourself, because I know sure as the fires of Avernus still burn, that your father no longer supports you." His penetrating eyes blinked once and locked with hers, in that moment transmitting a depth and severity of understanding procured only by a well-lanned planewalker.

This time his deep, gravelly voice lowered to barely above a whisper; yet it was still loud enough for her to hear. "I know you've been selling your services as an aide to Ridnir Tetch. Don't pretend I haven't seen you sneaking out in the early hours after Antipeak."

It was true enough. Uathach didn't try to dispute that fact - she would've done anything to try to save her mother's life - but it didn't stop the truth hurting so much, either. She sobbed uncontrollably, and covered her face with her hands.

Marrak released her again with a growl of disgust. He opened his mouth to speak, and shut it again, seeming to take back whatever scathing remark he intended to fling at her. Perhaps in light of her crushing grief, he couldn't bring himself to say anything truly cruel to her. She'd suffered enough; it wasn't her fault that her mother was indiscreet.

And so the genasi Fated remained in a state of awkward passivity, watching her cry.

His features soon betrayed yet another startling transformation.
Quick as the fires that forged him, he seized her by the waist, and pushed her against the wall.

Uathach, dragged from her moment of grief by his hot, brutal hands upon her body, and the furious blaze behind his eyes, cried out in protest. Then the Flame Lord kissed her, covering her mouth with his.

Despite the roughness of the hands, dwarfing her narrow waist, the torrid kiss that followed, was soft and sweet.

He tasted of fire, of smoldering coals, ash, male sweat, tobacco smoke and Arborean fire-wine; a top-shelf brew, to be precise. His hot lips plundered hers with an urgent, ardent need. With sensual, provocative flicking motions of his tongue, he licked her lips, gently parting them to taste her. His lips sucked on hers, his teeth gently nipping delicate, oft-abraided flesh, and his tongue continued to dart back and forth into her mouth; to clash and parry with hers.

Uathach melted into his kiss. All thoughts, all reason to resist him fled with the warmth that stole into her body, and the sap of desire that began to seep from betwixt her thighs.

She'd never felt like this before. No man had ever kissed her. Indeed, most seemed to be repulsed by her Tanar'ri heritage, if not the sulphurous, sanguine miasma that drifted about her like an animal's musk. So she leaned into him, moulding her lips and her body to his in willing surrender.

Marrak deepened his kiss, slanting his lips over hers, and greedily devoured everything she offered up to him...

[To Be Continued...]

[Uathach Blackmantle]

"Cutter, please..." Uathach gasped. "No more." Suddenly overwhealmed by his kiss, she pulled away to draw much needed air into her lungs. Her whole body vibrated, resonated, with his touch, his kiss, the feel and taste of his lips, and the desire he'd stoked in her.

Thankfully, Marrak didn't protest. He simply removed his gloves and cupped her cheeks in his warm hands. His touch scorched her skin, yet his heat penetrated deep, and soothed her quiet turmoil. She closed her eyes, if only to avoid his heated stare, but even then she found no solace within. Her own new found, awakening desire mirrored his. It echoed in tandem with her quickening heartbeat, and the silent roar of her Tanar'ri blood.

Uathach opened her eyes again, and released a soft, shaky sigh. There would be no solace tonight.

Laying his forehead upon hers, the Flame Lord gazed deeply into her eyes, and tracked the uncertainty he saw reflected there. His ebon pupils were dilated portals to the fire within. His stare burned her face, conveying in that moment a travesty of his desire, his rapture, his agony, and his need.

"Do you enjoy this as much as I do, Uathach?" He whispered. His voice was strained and hoarse with his passion. Hot, harsh breath streamed from his mouth in quick, strong puffs.

"Yes." She nodded weakly, and whimpered as his fingers caressed the fine sculpted contours of her cheekbones and chin. With soft worshipful motions, he touched her eyelids, trailed a fingertip down her nose, then slowly stroked her mouth. Her lips were swollen, and burned from his avid kisses.

"I'll go slow." He promised and swallowed hard. He was deeply stirred by the intense fire that raged inside him. She could see it in his eyes.

Yet despite his furious passion, he possessed about him an air of control. True to his word, he drew her close, and kissed her softly. He sucked her top lip between his, and gently caressed it with the tip of his tongue. He took his time, moving his lips over hers with an exciting gentleness, so that he could focus all of his attention there through his kiss.

Uathach wanted to tell him to keep going, to beg him to take her roughly, then and there. But as he continued to ravage her lips, she found herself dissolving beneath him, and returned his amorous kisses, with a tentativeness that excited him even more. Her hands slid over his back, found a disturbing comfort in the hard lines of his shoulders, and slipped around his neck. Everywhere she touched him, his flesh was warm and hard.

Without breaking the kiss, Marrak's possessive touch slipped down her body. His hands followed the delicate, slender curves of her waist and hips, and pulled her even closer. He pushed up her skirt, caressed the backs of her smooth white thighs, and paused to trace the slight prominence of her garters. Then he gripped her bottom, and dragged her pelvis against his. His knees urged her legs apart.

Uathach gasped in excitement.

Pressed to him so, there was no mistaking the hard evidence of his desire. Heat saturated his skin like sweat, and a faint musky odor, mixed with trace hints of exotic spices and an alluring male cologne, rose softly about him, and enticed her senses. She felt his every breath, his every movement, and the mad, rhythmic beating of his heart.

Marrak paused to stroke her face and run his fingers through her hair, perhaps to convey that she was more than just a body to him. His touch made her quiver and ache all over with a deep, poignant neediness, unlike any joy or pain she'd ever felt before.

Then with a slow, gentle undulation of his hips at first, the genasi Fated rubbed his erect sex into her virgin flesh as he kissed her, mimicking the tender motions of lovemaking.

Shaky sounds, raw with her passion and pleasure, issued from Uathach's mouth. Too weak to stand of her own accord, she clung to him. Her fingers dived into his spiky red hair, and clenched the warm silken locks. She panted as she kissed him, with a startling savagery and eagerness that she never knew she possessed. Her teeth nipped at his lips, drawing tiny spots of blood; and an erotic growl from the genasi's throat. Her tongue thrust, parried and danced around his.

"Marrak..." She moaned again. "I want..." She hesitated. She wasn't sure if she could ask for such a thing, and prayed silently that he would know what she needed, to quell that poignant ache stirred by his ravenous lips.

"Tell me what you want, Uathach." He purred, kissing her neck, and breathed in her erotic scent. He growled at her again. His teeth gently nipped the tender flesh just above the throbbing pulse-point. Then with a broad sweep, tracing the curve of her thigh, he brought his hand around to the front of her drawers. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband. He tickled her azure pubic curls for a moment, then let his fingers slide lower to touch her.

One touch, barely a whisper of a caress, and he discovered how wet she truly was.

For a few excruciating moments it seemed, he traced the outline of virgin lips with two fingertips. Not once did he touch her directly, no matter how much her shaking fingers dug into his shoulders; no matter how much she whimpered, and scraped his lips with her teeth. When at last he touched her as she so secretly desired, alternating his strokes between moist, inner flesh and the veiled knot of her pleasure, Uathach broke their kiss with a cry of joy.

"Marrak." She arched her neck in ecstasy. Powers, it felt unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. It was pain and pleasure, at once sharp and bittersweet. "Take me now."

The Flame Lord's fervent gaze burned her face; studied each flutter of her eyelids, each curve of her soft, pliant mouth, each rhythmic moan that streamed over her lips. No one signal was ignored, no gesture or moan considered insignificant; and so he watched her as her breathing quickened, rising in pitch and rhythm, until at last she shuddered and cried out with sublime rapture.

"You've never made love before, have you?" Marrak asked suddenly, breaking a sacred silence generated by her cadent pleasure.

Uathach shook her head weakly from side to side.

"N-no... no, never." She stammered, gasping again as he slowly stroked her sensitive flesh. "But I've always wondered what it would feel like..."

The words had barely tumbled over her lips before the genasi picked her up, and carried her into her room; kicking the door shut behind him. He lowered her to the bed with all the reverence and care of a groom making love to his bride for the first time.

He slid a pillow under her bottom, unbuttoned his codpiece, and took down his breeches.

Uathach lay sprawled across the bed with her legs still spread slightly and bent at the knee, shaking in fear and excitement.

She couldn't believe this was finally happening. For too long, like most young women, she'd tackled with her curiosity for carnal delights; to know a man in the most intimate realms, understood only by wives, lovers and courtesans alike.

She unhooked the busk of her corset with shaking fingers, and untied her chemise, offering her breasts to his mouth as he hunkered over her to suckle them. He delicately licked and kissed one nipple, and then the other. Then much to her rising delight, he sprinkled soft kisses down to her belly...

[To Be Continued...]

[Uathach Blackmantle]

The single candle on the nightstand had long since burned out, plunging Uathach's room into darkness. Now only a diffuse shaft of Great Foundry firelight spilled through the narrow window, breaking the gloom. The tiefling couldn't see the Flame Lord's sex. Nor did she care at that moment to satiate her curiosity; she was far too shy and inexperienced to simply reach out and touch him, as he had touched her. Even though she wanted to.

That he remained a mystery to her, his magnificent ebony body enveloped in shadows from the waist down, was just as exciting as any vivid fantasy she could conjure within her mind.

Marrak's hands softly caressed her calves and thighs, pushed her chemise up to her hips, and loosened her garters. He rolled down her stockings one at a time, placing soft whisper like kisses upon the sensitive ivory skin he unveiled. Uathach quivered in excitement.

On a flippant whimsy, she'd snuck a small amount of perfumed oils from her mother's bureau, and bathed in the heady scents of jasmine and roses that eve. So now she imagined her skin must feel soft, and smell sweet beneath the fiendish effluvium. Marrak breathed in her exotic scent with a satisfied growl. His hot breath skimmed across her cooler flesh, raising a swath of goosebumps with each gentle touch of his lips.

"Shall I continue?" Marrak asked in a voice husky with his passion. His torrid gaze, a mirror of unmasked desire, met hers over the pale alabaster expanse of skin, laid bare beneath gaping undergarments. He didn't wait for her response, and placed a delicate butterfly kiss upon her smooth belly. He ran his tongue-tip over her silver navel jewel.

The Flame Lord paused again, waiting for her delighted response, then blew a jet of warm breath over the cool trail of saliva.

The effect it had on her was instant and electrifying. He chuckled softly.

Uathach cried out her delight. His tongue was hot. His firm, wet lips sprinkled a trail of scorching kisses further down to the waistband of her cotton drawers. He loosened the ribbon ties, and slipped his hand beneath, allowing his heated fingers to slide over her abundant pubic curls, and stroked her where she ached for his touch the most. Her breath hitched, quickening with her rising rapture. Then Marrak gripped the waistband of her drawers in his mouth, and pulled them off with his teeth.

"Marrak!" Uathach cried out in delight and alarm. Yet her hands found his neck, his shoulders and slipped into his hair again. She clung to him tight - so tight, that her pointy black nails pierced his flesh - and arched off the mattress with another joyous moan, as this time his tongue-tip sought the delicate rosebud of her pleasure.

With slow, sleek strokes he parted the silken lips, and rubbed the roseate skin he exposed, slowly working her up into an ecstatic frenzy. Her joyous cries rose and fell in synchrony with the movements of her hips, and the dew that flowed from her like honey. He slipped a finger inside her.

With firm twisting pressure and an expert nimbleness, he rubbed her until she squirmed, and cried out for more. She clenched the bedsheets and the back of his neck with convulsing fingers, pushing his mouth and tongue into her slick flesh. Never in her life could she have imagined such pleasures, such rapturous delicacies, as those he inflicted upon her now. Her head tossed from side to side, mussing her hair up on the pillow, and her back arched to further accomodate his questing tongue and fingers.

"I can't wait any longer, Uathach." Marrak groaned, rising above her like a dark, erotic shadow, carved from ebon marble. "I must have you now." He leaned over Uathach's languid form, taking her bottom into his strong hands, and raised her hips to meet his.

Uathach whimpered her elation, suddenly overcome by fear, as he guided the tip of his erect sex into her open, moist folds. She tensed, suddenly contemplating if she should try to push him off, or at least wriggle away. But she suspected it was already too late for that. Besides, why back out now, when she'd waited so long for this? She wanted this as much as he did.

Then as he began to rub against her, slowly, and teasingly at first, all thoughts of stopping him dissolved with the pleasure that stole into her body, tantalising her with a heightened sensation unlike any other.....

[To Be Continued...]

[Uathach Blackmantle]

Marrak's lips lingered scant inches above hers, as his avid gaze searched her face for any sign of uncertainty, and his other hand caressed her body with tender, worshipful motions. At last he clasped her hand in his, twining their fingers together. His touch, as he pressed their conjoined hands against the mattress, assured her that he would be gentle.

"Are you ready for me, Uathach?" He whispered.

She nodded slowly, tensing a little and whimpered as he pushed into her. But as he found her body unyielding, he settled back into his slow, pleasurable rhythm again.

"Wrap your legs around me, Uathach." He instructed in his deep, grating timbre. "It will hurt; but only for a moment."

"Don't... don't you want me to...?" Uathach began uncertainly; until he silenced her with a gentle kiss. She tasted traces of her own moisture, briny like seashells, upon his sacharine lips.

"Oh no... I have everything I want, right here... Uathach." He murmured with a soft growl, and claimed her lips again. He waited until she relaxed beneath him. Then he pushed forward with his hips as he held her close, and gored her; sharp and hard.

She felt a hot stab, and a brief flare of pain. It lasted only a moment, but it proved so unnexpected, that Uathach cried out.

It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. All precursers of pleasure couldn't prepare her for this. His heat, his hardness, stretched her, filled her... Not only that, but it was also the shock of realising that she was making love for the first time. Very few joys she knew could compare to the piquant ache she felt now. Tears gathered, unshed, and trickled down her cheeks.

The Flame Lord's slow kiss smothered her whimpers, and soothed her pain.

Like a balm to ease a maddening itch, he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and her neck. Any part of her face left untouched he worshipped with his lips, and so marked her with tenderness, to alleviate the ache of his intrusion.

He made love to her with just the tip of his sex, never slipping in more than an inch or two. Then as she began to relax and enjoy his caresses, he pushed deeper inside her.

His face was contorted, as if from great torment. But as the amorous litany began to issue from his throat, Uathach knew he wasn't in pain; at least not of the sort she understood so well. He closed his eyes, and caressed her breasts as he steadily moved in and out of her. Yet he maintained that same tireless rhythm, only hastening his pace as tiny moans began to stream from her lips.

Uathach closed her eyes, giving herself over to the torrent of sensation, and allowed herself to truly feel. Her life had never truly been her own, so their joining came as such an emotional release, she gave herself over to it wholeheartedly. For the first time in her sad life, she felt whole, and complete. She felt alive, as she never had before.

Marrak pushed harder, and deeper into her. The bedsprings squeaked rhythmically beneath them, and the headboard thumped into the wall. Releasing her hand, he leaned back, and raised her hips to meet his in earnest; belaboring her with deep thrusts.

New sensations, both exquisite and alarming, flared inside Uathach. Her shaking legs squeezed his hips, as the inner wave shook her from the inside out. She gasped as it stole her breath, and clung to Marrak with trembling fingers. She cried out in ecstasy.

"Marrak... cutter, don't... don't stop..." She panted, seeking his face with her fingers, and stared at him through wide, glazed eyes.

"You're all mine for the evening, Uathach; I don't intend to." The genasi's voice was thick and harsh. It rumbled in the back of his throat as a rough, erotic growl. Sweat glistened on his skin. Beads of perspiration captured the dim light for a moment, before sliding down his heated brow. He turned his head to the side, kissing the delicate fingers and palm that snaked up to touch him so tenderly. Then he touched her lips, and her throat, following each pleasured cry with his fingertips, as he trailed them down to her heaving breasts, and her thundering heart.

He thrust harder, deeper, faster then, caressing every part of her body he could reach, with a heavy, fevered touch, as he strived in earnest for his own completion. He threw his head back with a triumphant shout, driving so deep he touched her womb, and released his seed inside her.

For a few moments, Marrak hovered above her, catching his breath, and savoring the last lingering moments of their joining, before he slowly pulled away. In that time, Uathach was awarded a brief glimpse into the inner workings of the male mind.

Desire, excitement, rapture, release and triumphant satisfaction all asserted themselves in rapid succession across his ebon features. Yet his cooling gaze betrayed a depth of sincerity and affection, and a jealous protectiveness she never expected.

In his mind, he'd marked her as his, whether she cared to acknowledge that or not. It was only a matter of time before it became apparent how he intended to act upon this; and how he intended to treat her.....


[To Be Continued...]
[A final note: This is the last of the poetic smut for this scene. The rest that follows is a nasty little twist to explain part of Wraith's misery. ]