Lovers of Hyer

Freckles I

All of eternity is a damn long time to wait for a hero.

Looking back, the most dangerous time of his guard, the beginnings, were the most interesting. He was still mostly human back then, even if he knew that it wasn't to remain so for long, which meant anyone that came to challenge him had some sort of chance against him. He had had a few close calls. The magic of the binding spell had healed him but had taken a bit of his humanity away each time.

He lost the ability to talk pretty soon too, sooner than expected: a slash across the throat had been the cause. His throat came back, but not his voice. Not that it mattered after people took one look at him and decided that he didn't take any negotiations. And they were right, he didn't.

He recognized the Wielder, of course he did. Several times, in fact. He always had that mark on his face, even if his face changed. It was impressive to see how the sign never changed when the one that carried it did, but even that creased to amaze him after a while. He didn't even feel bad for keeping him apart from the sword that was rightfully his, but then again just because the Wielder could use the sword didn't mean he should.

As time went by and he lost who he was to be more and more, he grew used to waiting in the silence of the crypt. He felt it come into him, in his head, in his heart, until he was nothing but a means to an end. He didn't mind, not really. Better that than being insane. He counted the number of times a different Wielder appeared and estimated that centuries went by.

As expected, it was the Wielder that finally freed him. He was a monster in a deep gallery with a sword in his hand, guarding a precious artefact. Of course, no one thought that there were other solutions than fighting him save for the only person he ever forfeited against.

But what surprised him most was that the man – he didn't know his name – seemed to have given himself willingly – and cried in delight as he came, again and again, asked for more, please, more, sweetly, in a tongue that looked like the one Hyer had spoken so long ago. One by one, he had awakened things Hyer has thought had been washed away by time but that had only been dormant: lust, pleasure, and the desire to be free. Eventually, they had to part but, if it had been about him, he would have wanted to keep this human with him forever.

However, now that he was free, it could be about him. It could be about him forever if he wanted.

He savoured the anticipation of leaving as he laid on the ground of the crypt. He had felt the spell break when he had forfeited, he had been free to leave from that very moment but he had not. After all, he had spent hundreds of years in here, what was a little more? He was never, ever coming back, after all.

When he was ready, he got up, picked up his sword and left.

The first thing he enjoyed was a drink at the nearby underground source. He didn't need to drink, even if he could, so it had been a while since he had done it last. The sensation of water going down his throat felt weird to him – although not as weird as when he had swallowed the Wielder's cum. Maybe he'd like it more if it was... ale. He used to like ale. Did they even still make ale? Memories of times long ago came back and he savoured them more than the water itself.

He enjoyed the feeling of sun on his skin a lot more. After nothing but the cold light of the mushrooms for centuries, the warm caress of the celestial rays felt almost orgasmic, if he could orgasm with his skin alone. He stretched and even spread his tentacles out, taking up as much of it as he could.

He regretted it when they eventually dried out and came back into his feeling like sandpaper – until they were wetted again in his depth. He used to think of the liquid he secreted as something akin to saliva until he discovered that it cloaked his aroused dick as well, and then the name didn't feel right. His lube? His mucus? Neither sounded right.