Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My name is Federico Bronzeboot. I am a wizard who resides in the sleepy forest town of Woodsheart, and every day after work, I molest my maid.

Quite a cold open, right? There’s a good chance that you’re reeling back in disgust at the sudden revelation, I presume. Well, I don’t blame you. With a story like the one I’m about to tell, the truth of the matter was bound to come out sooner or later, so I elected to clear the air at the earliest opportunity. However–and you can choose to believe me or not– there is a story behind this, one that ends happily for everyone. Believe it or not, my maid actually likes getting groped on the regular. I guess that may not actually be molestation, but she sure likes to pretend. In any case, if you cannot stomach the idea of at least hearing me out, then at least your time wasn’t wasted.

Are you still with me? Good. Thank you for at least giving me a chance to explain myself. Let me start with the beginning. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life in Woodsheart. It was where I was born, it was where I learned my craft, and it will probably, hopefully, be where I die. I am not the adventurous sort. My childhood friend was, though. She was an elf named Theodora, and we were close. Don’t let her race fool you; she was definitely the brawn of the whole village. I swear, that girl could’ve gone toe to toe with a horde of orcs and driven back the whole army on her own. Well, that’s a bit hyperbolic, but she certainly could do a lot with a sword in hand. Combine that with a natural beauty that was befitting of her race, and it was no wonder why I fell in love with her so long ago.

Here’s the sad truth: Theodora never loved me the way I loved her. Yes, I was a dear friend whom she did care for. Yes, I was her go-to source for all things that fell under the subject of the arcane. Yes, I was a man that had a good reputation and his own source of considerable power, but the thing that most probably doomed our chances together was my unadventurous spirit. We played a lot as kids, but as we grew up, I devoted most of my time to my studies. My mother was a wizard of sorts, self-taught, and not particularly powerful if I am to be honest. Nevertheless, she was capable of all sorts of neat tricks, especially when it came to crafting magical toys. The village of Woodsheart was small, but the fame of my mother’s wonderful magic toys was probably one of the reasons why it ended up on the maps of the realm. I endeavored to follow in her footsteps and continue the family business. Theodora had other plans. By the time she was sixteen, she was already a master with a sword, and even wore full plate armor as though it was no heavier than common clothes. Two years later, she came to the shop one day with the intent to whisk me off on her first adventure. 

As much as I loved those green eyes, her shiny golden hair, and her pure spirit, I had a feeling that I was simply not cut out for the heroics she clearly desired. It was with a heavy heart that I told her no. Perhaps things would have been different if I had done otherwise. Perhaps, in an alternate timeline, Theodora and I would be legendary heroes with a heartening love story known by the entire kingdom. Then again, there’s no guarantee that such a fate would have happened either. In any case, that did not come to pass. She departed on her own, and for a few years at least, that was the last time I ever saw her.

I know you must be wondering what any of this has to do with me molesting my maid. I will get to that; I just want you to know a bit about me first.

I met my maid about a year after Theodora left. I was 19. My mother, bless her, had recently passed away from a nasty recurring illness, and my father had already died in a hunting accident several years earlier. That left me living alone. I had inherited the family business, and although I was still grieving over the death of the woman that was not only my teacher, but my closest family, life wasn’t actually all that bad. I had already developed a reputation as a prodigy. Arguably, through careful study and independent experimentation, I had even already surpassed anything my mother knew. I was capable of a wide array of mostly useless, but still interesting spells, and I had a decent knowledge of the arcane. To the people of Woodsheart, I was something of a celebrity– a wellspring of incredible knowledge, cool party tricks, and fascinating magical items. They looked up to me as someone who had overcome a lot of recent tragedies and developed into a useful member of society. 

I think that's why they listened to me when the goblins came.

There were a dozen of them: 3 girls, 2 boys, 5 women, and 2 men. They just sort of showed up one day, claiming to be victims of a raid that had nearly wiped out their tribe. Most of the townsfolk didn’t trust them, as goblins had a reputation for being tricky and self-centered, but I was able to use my magic to deduce the truth. They had been through a lot, especially one named Klaa, who had just blossomed into adulthood only to lose her family in the immediate aftermath. In that way, we were both sort of alike. Anyway, it took a lot of convincing to let the townsfolk take them in as citizens, but my goodwill was able to secure them odd jobs and decent lodgings.

Except Klaa. Klaa had several opportunities thrown her way, but for some odd reason, she insisted on working with me. Now, I had been kind to her in particular, since I empathized with her plight. When she needed a shoulder to cry on, well, due to her height, she had to settle for my back, but I offered it all the same. When she needed a place to stay, I cleaned out my biggest closet and told her she could stay there rent-free. When she was hungry, I fixed her proper meals. They were mostly stews, and not particularly good (Dad had always been the cook in the family, but he passed on before I could learn much), but she ate them all the same. Before long, her spirits had been raised. She was laughing, making jokes, and had come to be something of a new best friend for me. To be clear, I only saw her as a friend , nothing more.

“Federico, ‘ya need a maid,” she told me one day as we were eating dinner. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but ‘yer house is kinda shitty.”

That had taken me aback a bit. Yeah, I could be a bit sloppy sometimes, but I always kept the front part of the house, which doubled as the toy store, clean enough. Besides, very rarely did people come into the back anyway. As long as I could find my things, there was no harm if they were a little disorganized, right?

“I thought goblins liked messy things,” I retorted with some degree of playfulness.

“Not this messy,” Klaa argued, gesticulating at the stacks of half-finished magical items strewn about on the countertops, then at the considerable collection of unwashed cutlery near the sink, and then finally at a pile of clothes and robes on the floor. “‘Yer dirty, man! And that’s fine if ‘ya have someone willin’ to clean up after ‘ya, but ‘ya don’t.”

I glanced around at the absolute state of my dining room and kitchen as if noticing the squalor for the first time. I swallowed uneasily. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Well, I got some gold lying around. First thing tomorrow, I’ll look around and see if I can hire anyon-”

Klaa cleared her throat and gestured at herself. Goblins were not known for their beauty, but she wasn’t exactly hard to look at. Her skin was as green as a summer’s leaf, and well-kept. Her hair was a charcoal black, straight, and looked smooth to the touch. She had a big nose, an unflattering staple of most goblins, but those captivating red eyes more than made up for it. Thanks to the regular meals, she had also gotten a bit plump as well.

Of course, I wasn’t really thinking about this at the time, though it would feature heavily in my thoughts later. Right then, all I could think about was what she was implying.

“You wanna be my maid?”

“Duh!” she snorted, but it was quickly replaced with a grin. “Gotta find some way to pay ‘ya back, Feddy! Or should I call ‘ya Boss from now on?”

I rubbed my chin in thought. “Well, I guess you need to find some line of work. Alright. How does 25 silver a week sound?"

I remember Klaa's eyes lighting up in awe for a brief moment, but then she quickly shook her head. "Naw, naw. That's too much, Boss. Ten silver, plus free room and board. I'm not that demandin', after all."

I eyed her quizzically. Never in my imagination would I have expected the maid to low-ball her own salary. 

"Twenty silver," I corrected. "That's nothing out of my budget, and you deserve a fair pay for fair work."

"Fifteen," Klaa argued. "That's enough for me."

"Fine," I relented. "Fifteen a week. Are you sure you want to do this to yourself, Klaa?"

Klaa nodded proudly. "Keep 'yer money, Boss," she affirmed. Klaa was the type to smirk or grin cockily before showing anyone a real smile, but this was one of the rare times where she did. "I'm already deeply in 'yer debt for all 'yuv done for me."

She gave me a hug that night before bed. It was the first time she had ever gotten physical with me. She had always been a little hesitant about other people touching her. Looking back, I should've known that she had a crush on me, but I didn't. Back then, my heart still belonged to Theodora. Some part of me held out hope that she would return to the village as an unmarried maiden, and then we could fall in love and get married. But as I've said before, Theodora never loved me the way I loved her.

The next couple of years were largely uneventful. Klaa proved surprisingly decent as a maid, developing a simple organization system for all my unused goods while cleaning out everything I no longer needed. She was also a hit with the kids that stopped by. Maybe it was due to her short stature, being only 4 feet tall, but she proved playful and friendly enough to excite and entertain them. Word spread around town, and even those that were initially suspicious came to respect her. If I do say so myself, her goodwill did more for her people than anything I could have done.

As for me? Well, Klaa helped me come to terms with my grief over losing my best friend and mother. With her spending a good portion of her downtime in my home, it made the place feel a lot less lonely. She was a woman who wasn't afraid to speak her mind and crack jokes at other people's expense, my own included. At the same time, however, when I told her about Theodora, she genuinely did her best to comfort me. I told her how I sometimes regretted not going with her on her adventures, but Klaa assured me that I had not wasted my life staying around town.

"Boss, look around 'ya," she told me once, her expression a heartfelt smile. "You bring so much joy to this shithole. It would be a miserable place without all 'ya do, I think. Besides, well, 'ya argued for my people to be accepted from the very beginnin'. If that elven bitch can't see that 'yer a hero in 'yer own way, then maybe she don't deserve 'ya."

But even with all Klaa said, all she did, all she was, Theodora was still the one I loved. That's why, when word came that she was coming back shortly after my 22nd birthday, I was excited beyond all measure. By this point, she had developed quite a reputation in the realm as a great hero, the leader of a band of heroes that had triumphed over a nasty ice dragon. For that alone, she had earned herself a place in the annals of history, and yet I was left with the impression that her return was to be just a short interlude between that grand quest and her next one.

She arrived with the spring, clad in armor that appeared to be fashioned out of solid gold, yet in reality was hardier than steel. One of five heroes, she marched in the middle. I stood there to meet her, and when she saw me, she exploded at once into an excited smile. It was good to see that she hadn’t forgotten about me entirely.

“Federico!” she exclaimed, running towards me and wrapping me into a tight hug. The strength of her grip had only grown, so much so that she nearly choked the air out of me. All the same, I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. That afternoon was spent conversing with her and her newfound friends: There was Erwyn, a fellow human with a penchant for alchemy and subterfuge. Jolene was a little halfling with a brain full of knowledge of the arcane. She gave me a run for my money, in fact, though I daresay I also knew a few things she didn’t. Falin was a musclebound monstrosity of a dwarf who could somehow put away four family-sized meat pies in a little under an hour, but his attitude was rarely negative. All of them were good people, and it set me at ease to know Theodora had traveled with such a good-hearted group.

Then, of course, there was Grosh. Grosh was an orc, though from my understanding he was kinda small for his race. Even then, I bet he could definitely take the head off of any troublemaker I knew. I didn’t like Grosh, and let me be clear: That was unfair of me. Grosh was perhaps a little dim and unsophisticated, but he was arguably the most moral of them all. He always asked for permission in situations where it was required, he never deliberately attempted to intimidate or harm anyone that I saw, and though he didn’t understand much about my craft, he nevertheless agreed with Theodora’s assessment: I had made my mother proud.

No, Grosh didn’t do anything wrong by my account. What made me dislike him was something entirely ridiculous: He was Theodora’s betrothed. They had matching platinum rings inset with amethysts and sapphires, and they made their affections toward one another obvious to anyone paying attention. When, for the first time, I saw them kiss one another on the evening of their arrival, I felt something within me die. I always knew that the odds of Theodora coming back to me were slim, but at the same time, learning of her return gave me just enough hope to truly believe I had a chance. Grosh, through a totally innocent ignorance of my feelings, crushed those very hopes right in front of me.

I put on a happy face for them. It would’ve been far too awkward for me to lash out at my dear friend and her lover for finding happiness together. Besides, my mother taught me, very kindly, that I was not simply entitled to anyone’s friendship or attraction. Theodora was never mine just because I liked her. I was wise enough to understand that I was at fault for not telling her about my own feelings, and even then, who's to say what she would've thought? Regardless, it definitely hurt. I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.

When I finally got a chance to politely slip away and go home, I did so. Was I a tearful mess when I walked through the front door? Absolutely. Klaa heard my pathetic, sobbing whimpers and came in before I had a chance to head for my bedchamber. My vision was too blurry to see anything more than her general outline, but I knew her pity by the way she hugged me.

“It’s Theodora, ain’t it?” she whispered to me. I never heard her voice sound so gentle before, so understanding, so earnestly empathetic. I melted in her arms then and there. Looking back on it, it must’ve been a comical sight: A nearly-six-foot human blubbering like a baby in the embrace of a little goblin. But if Klaa found the whole situation funny, she didn’t say anything about it to me. Instead, she escorted me to the kitchen and poured us both some drinks. She sat down on the table and told me to open up as much as I needed to. There were no jokes. There was no mockery. There was nothing to be ashamed of. It was just me and her.

I told her everything I could. Of course, there was a lot that she already knew from past conversations, but I made the fullness of my feelings toward Theodora plain to Klaa. I loved her with all my heart, and now there was no chance that she’d ever feel the same. My maid, for the most part, remained silent, but the subtle ways in how she touched my hand with hers should have told me that she was upset by this as well. I guess I was still hung up on my past love to even consider how Klaa might’ve felt about me. In any case, she did not speak until I had enough time to cry it out.

“Fuck her,” she grumbled. “Not much of a hero if 'ya ask me.”

“N-no,” I muttered. “Fuck me for being so stupid.”

“‘Ya don’t deserve her,” Klaa replied. I wiped the last tears from my eyes and stared into her. It was as if her scarlet eyes were ablaze with fire. She held my hand tighter. “Do ‘ya hear me, Boss? Don’t beat ‘yerself up over this! It’s like she came back just to rub it all in!”

It wasn’t true. Theodora had never given any indication that this was so, not even the subtlest hint of smugness. But just looking at Klaa, I could tell she firmly believed it. I shook my head, downed my wine in one gulp, and cradled my head in my hands.

“See what ‘ya get for being so soft?” she lectured. “If ‘ya want something in life, ‘ya gotta grab it with both hands. Bein’ soft only makes ‘ya weak.”

“Then why should I have ever bothered trying to let your people in?” I countered, irritable at the lecture.

To my shock, Klaa seemed taken aback by that claim. She turned her gaze to the burgundy liquid in her cup, as if the perfect retort was drowning beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry, Boss,” she relented a moment later. Hearing Klaa apologize without provocation was quite the rarity, so much so that I lifted my head up and gave her a quizzical look.  “I spoke outta anger. I think the wine was talkin’. Bein’ soft. . . it has its uses, I s'pose, but sometimes ‘ya gotta look after ‘yerself and what you want.”

I smiled at that. When Klaa saw that I was not angry, she smiled back. “You’re a good friend, Klaa. Consider your apology accepted.”

Klaa wrinkled her face and muttered something that, once again, I failed to catch. Looking back on it, though, it probably doesn’t take a genius to guess what made her suddenly grumpy. After a deliberate effort to reset her expression, she finished off her wine, then rose. “‘Ya want another glass?”

I waved the idea away. “Nah. I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” I resolved, rising and stretching. “See you tomorrow, Klaa. Don’t drink too much.”

With that, I turned and headed off. But I didn't make it out of the room before Klaa bounded up to me.

"Boss?"

I turned to find her reaching for my hand. Unsure of what she was planning, I allowed her to grab on. She glanced up at me, worry in her expression. I noticed that her cheeks were far too flushed to be the result of a single glass of wine.

"Yeah, Klaa?"

Klaa held onto my hand for a moment, and I could tell by the way her eyes darted back and forth that she had something to say.

“Never mind,” she ultimately uttered, letting go. “See ‘ya in the mornin’.”

I stood there for a moment, unconvinced by her behavior. The words she spoke, about looking after myself, rang in my head. Looking back, it should have been obvious as hell that she was not following her own advice to heart. Still, I regrettably made the choice not to follow up on it. Turning away from her, I trudged my way towards the bedchamber.

I didn’t sleep well that night, that much I remember. When the first rays of sunlight sprinkled through my window, I rose, bathed, got dressed, and disappeared into my workshop. I thought that a little magecraft would get me through my irritability, but even as I attuned toy after toy with magical ability, I found myself unable to get the image of Theodora and Grosh making love out of my head. By the time lunch rolled around, I purposely pulled myself away from the half-finished wooden dove I had been working on. Once I added a little magic to it, it would be capable of flying around and around with just a simple command. Now, though? It was as lifeless as I felt inside.

I made my way into the kitchen, and only then discovered Klaa passed out, surrounded by three large overturned wine bottles on the table. She looked like she never made it to bed that night. Assuming that she simply overindulged, I left her to recover on her own time. Well, that was the plan, but the noise I made fixing lunch was enough to wake her. She spent the next minute or so grumbling about her pounding head, then seemed to recognize the mess she made.

“Oops!” she exclaimed at the stained table and overturned bottles. She chuckled sheepishly as she swiped them all up and hurried over to the trash. “Sorry, Boss.”

“Think nothing of it,” I muttered, digging into a beef and potato stew I prepared. “Seems like we’re both a bit down in the dumps right now. If you want the day off, I-”

“-I don’t want no stinkin’ day off,” Klaa grumbled. “I’m good ‘nuff to work off my mistakes, thank ‘ya.”

I watched Klaa make her way to the sink, stepping on a stool as she did so, and begin to wet a rag, no doubt to clean off the table. My eyes, however, quickly fell to her ass. The height from the stool made her just tall enough for me to get a perfect view. She wiggled it back and forth absentmindedly as she badly hummed some tune I didn’t recognize. I had, admittedly, noticed once or twice that Klaa was thick in all the right places, though I never did anything more than steal a glance or two. After all, I didn’t have feelings for her, and I considered myself respectable enough not to touch what I had no right to, so I always managed to ignore it well enough before. But now was different. The way her hips shimmied back and forth to the tune of her song was downright hypnotic; I couldn’t look away. Soon, even eating my stew became just an afterthought as I watched her. My cock was stiffening against my pants, and I was realizing rather quickly that Theodora definitely lacked anything close to what my goblin maid had.

And then Klaa suddenly turned her head, made eye contact with me, and followed my eyes until she saw. A saccharine smile spread across her face, but she said nothing. Turning away, I saw her wiggle her butt just a little more seductively. 

“Like what ‘ya see, Boss?” I heard her mutter. She was probably talking to herself by how quiet she sounded, but she wasn’t quite quiet enough. And boy, I did like what I saw.

I found myself thinking back to what Klaa had told me last night. Sometimes, you gotta look at yourself and what you want.  That’s what led me to do what I did next. I’m not proud of what I did, not at all, but I also will not deny it. I rose, marched my way over to Klaa, and put my hands on her hips. She gasped and dropped the rag. She didn’t turn to face me, though.

“Damn, you’re soft,” I remarked as I squeezed her hips. A shudder escaped Klaa as she gripped the countertop. “All that food’s been going to the right places. Must be a goblin thing.”

“B-boss, I-”

Before she could answer, I brought my hands around to her belly. She had the teeniest beginnings of a gut overhang, and I couldn’t help but give her a little squeeze as I lent in closer and kissed her ear.

“It’s hot,” I murmured. That sentiment sent another shiver right down her spine. She tried to say something in response, but all I heard was a stuttering mess. “ You’re hot.”

With that, I moved one hand back to her ass while the other squeezed a breast through her shirt. Klaa let out a harsh moan as I massaged her. She felt so small, so delicate, so wonderful to the touch. I must have spent a few minutes just touching her. She never tried to resist, or if she did so, it was so ineffectual that I didn’t even notice it as such. In any case, knowing what I do now, I’m fairly certain she was as into it as I was.

Finally, I slipped the hand that had been pinching an erect nipple down her underwear. My hands traced what I recognized as her bush, then started creeping down to the pussy. And then, all too late, the realization of what I was doing kicked in: I was groping my maid. At once, I retracted my hands and jumped away from her. I apologized profusely for what I was doing. The phrase "sick to my stomach" doesn't even begin to describe the self-inflicted shame and despair I had over doing such a barbaric thing. I mean, I'd been raised in a household and society where consent was taught as absolutely vital before any sexual activity. Rapists and molesters were vile people, and I had just become the latter. I remember getting on my hands and knees and begging for her forgiveness, and that I would even turn myself in to the authorities if that was what she wanted.

You know what she said? You know what Klaa said in response to being violated by my disgusting hands?

"Geez, Boss, way to kill the fuckin' mood by being a pussy."

And then she turned around and went back to work like nothing happened at all.

I avoided her for several days after that, partly out of my aforementioned shame and partly out of a fear that a terrible retribution was waiting if I dared to tempt it. But as the days passed, nothing happened. She kept working. She kept telling me good morning as I hurried past her, doing my best not to look her in the eye, and she apparently never bothered reporting me to the bailiff as a creep.

Even as this realization set in, it did little to disrupt my dark thoughts. It all came to a head about a week after the incident, when she entered my bedroom a little after I retired. Still dressed in her work clothes, she had a stern look on her face as she eyed me up and down. I thought then that her revenge had finally come, but all she did was stare at me.

"When're 'ya gonna stop ignoring me, Boss? 'Ya know 'ya were s'posed to pay me three days ago, right?"

"S-s-sorry," I mumbled, unsure of what to say.

She sighed. "Is this 'bout the groping thing? Look. . . 'ya know 'ya weren't actually molestin' me, right?"

"Still. . . I feel dirty about it."

"Don't," Klaa muttered. "I want 'yer hands on my tits. I want 'ya to slap my ass. I-I even want 'ya to stick 'yer hands down my panties and-"

"OK, OK!" I interrupted, not daring to think I could actually do such a thing. "Look, I'm sorry for being such a bitch, OK?"

Klaa smiled. "Good. Now, I have a proposition for 'ya."

I paused, wrinkling my face in confusion. "What would that be?"

"Lemme help 'ya get over that elven cunt! 'Ya molest me every day after work, ten minutes a day at minimum. Treat my body like 'yer personal stress relief until I'm a shudderin' mess. Make me 'yer lil' slut!"

I looked at her as if she had snakes for hair. I remember turning away and shaking my head. "N-no. I can't do that. It feels too wrong."

Klaa was silent for a long time. I shot her a glance once or twice, when the silence became hard to bear. The expression on her face made it clear that she was hesitant about something. Ultimately, she cleared her throat and shot me a harsh look. "Then I will tell."

My heart skipped a beat.

"I'll tell everyone in town about how Federico is a pervert who groped his poor, innocent maid and that she no longer felt safe around ‘im!"

If it was a bluff, it was not one I decided was worth the risk of calling. I found that I couldn't risk prying a little, though. 

"So. . . You want me to molest you. . . Or you're going to report me for molesting you?"

"Yep!" Klaa confirmed, not even hesitating. She placed her hands on her boobs and massaged them teasingly. "I mean, I gotta do somethin'! 'Yer clearly still hung up about ‘yer lost love! If I don’t step in, you’ll never move on!"

"That doesn't mean you have to, er, give yourself to me out of pity."

Klaa muttered something to herself. I couldn't make it out well enough to understand it. It didn't matter; this whole idea was so bizarre.

"'Ya really should be thanking me, boss," she retorted. "I mean, I'm givin' 'ya an opportunity here to keep 'yerself from doin' something 'ya might regret to that Theodora bitch. I doubt she'd forgive 'ya for-"

"I am not a rapist!" I interrupted obstinately.

Klaa's lips curled upwards as her eyes narrowed. "Are 'ya sure about that?" she questioned with that wicked-looking smile. "What happened last week says otherwise." 

After a tense moment of staring each other down, I relented. As weird as this whole situation was, I didn't want to risk the years in prison and ruined reputation if Klaa was willing to follow up on her threat.

"Fine," I sighed. "I'll do it. I'll molest you as often as you want, but only when I have your permission."

That was an oxymoron if I ever heard one, but it was a necessary caveat to keep me from feeling like an even bigger piece of garbage.

Klaa immediately went for her clothes, fumbling with her top until her breasts spilled out. She had a hungry look in her eyes, one that I had never seen her with before.

"Then 'ya better start making up for lost time," she managed.

It was already late, but that night, I spent the better part of fifteen minutes with my hands all over Klaa's body. I shoved her against the wall as I gripped her chest, pulled her down onto the bed and let her straddle my belly while I clamped down on her plump ass, you name it. She moaned, quivered, and made several lewd comments about how she was being "manhandled by her pervert of a boss". I wasn't exactly able to retort. Once I got into it, squeezing and massaging her, I found that I couldn’t stop even if I was allowed to. She was so soft, so gentle, and when I looked into her eyes, she had that submissive look that I always imagined Theodora with in my fantasies.

But this was no fantasy. Even knowing that doing this was in my best interest (and that Klaa didn’t actually consider this molestation), I still felt twinges of guilt between the waves of desire. I suppose that’s why I never tried to go all the way with her. In any case, she proved herself quite the handful.

What got me even more confused was what happened afterward, though. When she finally had her fill, she sat on me, still straddling. The look she flashed me was, well, inconsistent. It was as if she was trapped between two emotions on opposite ends of the spectrum. One was obvious smug satisfaction, but the other? I couldn't quite make it out. Anyway, the part that really got me was when she leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. It was not a sloppy affair, but something more passionate, gentler, even downright affectionate.

"That's enough for tonight, Boss, dontcha think?"

I nodded, although in all honesty, I couldn't help but inwardly disagree. My dick was hard as mythril from all the foreplay, and the more animalistic side of me was begging to tackle her down and rut her mercilessly.

But that would've been monstrous, and I like to think of myself as having some degree of honor. Besides, Klaa was not the woman for me, anyway. She was just my friend and my maid, nothing more. That night, I rubbed one out real quick, then went to bed.

A week went by like this. Every day, Klaa and I would go about our normal business. I’d make toys, run the shop, and spend the evening catching up with Theodora and her company. Then, I would come back home, spend a good half-hour with my hands all over Klaa, and find that it was more than enough to help me unwind from even my most stressful days. Then, I’d go to bed, inevitably jerk off to the thought of plowing Klaa or Theodora, and then fall asleep. 

With each day that passed, though, I found myself focused on Theodora less and less. Yes, I’d always meet up with her and Grosh, or Erwyn, or Falin, or Jolene, or any combination of them in the evening. We’d catch up, I’d hear stories of their many travels, and find that the adventuring life was indeed a phenomenal one. In some senses, I became more regretful about my decision to reject Theodora’s offer, but not for the reasons I would have thought. No, it became more about seeing the world, and traveling, and making changes on a grand scale. And when it came to seeing Theodora herself, I began to view her as nothing more than an old friend. She gradually faded from my romantic fantasies, replaced by Klaa. On the occasions where the night dragged on, I began to think of Klaa, missing her. Inevitably, I would excuse myself home, come in, and spend time groping her. By the time Theodora and her party left for their next round of adventures, I was still a little sad to see her go; she was still my good friend. However, I wasn’t exactly overcome with a strong sense of heartache.

In the meantime, Klaa continued to work her way deeper into my life. I mean, living with her on its own already meant I ran into her a lot, but as the weeks stretched on, her visits to my workshop became more and more frequent. There was always some excuse– a snack, making the rounds on her cleaning, or even something as flimsy as checking up on me. In almost every situation, she would end up lying on one the tables or counters as I played with her body. I’d squeeze her tits like putty, smack her ass a bit, and pull her hair. There was just one thing I never did: Fuck her. I couldn’t bring myself to go that far, as tempted as I always was. She never asked for it, and I didn’t feel comfortable at all just sticking it in, so I resisted the urge each time.

Well, I tried. I was able to do so successfully for months, but the temptation always grew stronger. One night, after the shop closed and I was just getting ready for an evening curled up with a newly-acquired arcane treatise, Klaa came strutting into my bedroom naked as a jaybird. 

“Boss. . . I, uh, sorta spilled wine all over my clothes,” she lied. “S’okay, though; ‘ya don’t need my clothes to grope me.” 

That hungry look in her eyes, combined with her naked body, finally broke me. Something awakened that I do not know how to describe other than predatory . She yelped as I suddenly threw her onto my bed. Before she had time to even comprehend the situation, my own pants were down. I leaned in close and buried my face in her tits. There was the faint stench of wine on her green skin, but that only made the situation harder to bear. I began to lick her skin with my tongue, hearing each satisfied moan as encouragement to go further. I brought the tip of my thumb and began swirling it around the tip of her dark green nipple. The other one was soon taken in my mouth. All the while I was completely conscious as to how my dick screamed for release. I wanted to fuck her, just as I had been doing in my fantasies for quite a while now. She moaned, squealed, and tried to wrap her arms around my back. She was just a little too small to get them all the way around.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered after I released her tit from my mouth. “I want you!” I yammered as I stood up straight and positioned my cock right between her legs. “I need you!”

Klaa’s eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, Boss! I-”

I thrusted into her before she had a chance to explain. She screamed. I was too consumed by lust to even realize it, but I had broken her hymen in a single quick motion. Her cunt clamped around my dick, every motion sending a wave of pleasure through me. Klaa, meanwhile, couldn’t stop shrieking my name. No longer caring about calling me ‘Boss’ like she usually did, she was back to calling me Federico. It was hard to notice that at the time; I was too busy indulging myself in the slap slap slap of flesh. My hands gripped her legs tightly as I continued thrusting in her. The few times I looked into her eyes, they looked shocked, as if they had no clue how this was happening. 

I kept pounding all the same. Her legs reclined against my shoulders as I fucked her. My hands did what they did best, exploring her body in a way that was almost second nature by this point. It was a little odd to do from the missionary position that I had settled for, but I spanked the bottom of her ass quite a few times, watching in satisfaction as the flesh jiggled each time. She really was beautiful– I had come to realize that I wanted her more than any elf in the world. As long as she was mine, I would be beyond contentment.

Anyway, before long, I could feel myself approaching my limit. Klaa clutched the bedsheets tightly as she yelped. Her eyes eventually shut, tears streaming down her face as she tried to articulate her feelings. All that came out were animalistic howls. Her pussy somehow tightened even further as her little legs attempted to lock me into place. That was what finally sent me over the edge. With one ultimate thrust, I went as deep into her as I could and came. Rope after rope left my dick as the pleasure of the climax washed over me. Eventually, Klaa's shouts subsided, and I forced myself to look down at her. The spot on the bed between her legs was stained with a mixture of fluids: blood, cum, sweat, and the gods only know what else. Her chest heaved with every breath she took, utterly exhausted.

But what brought the shame back to me was seeing her tear-stained cheeks. She sniffled, did her best to wipe away the ones still welling up in her eyes, and sat up with a smile. My arms began to shake as I backed away from her. What had I done!? I had just. . . What came over me!? 

"K-Klaa," I whispered, feeling my heart shatter. My life was over. Even if she didn't go to the authorities, how could I live with myself? I had just violated her! We never agreed to this sort of thing; what right did I have to impose myself in a way that only a lover can!? From my perspective, the only righteous thing to do was to turn myself over to the bailiff and have the legal system do as it saw fit.

"I-I'm so sorry," I managed, my shakes becoming body-wide trembles. I knelt before her, partially out of submission and partially because standing was just too hard at this point. "I d-don't know w-what came over me!"

I couldn't bring myself to even look at her any further. Everything I'd ever done for her– bringing her in, giving her a job, feeding her, trying to help her people– it had all led up to this! She needed someone that she could trust, someone that she could have absolute faith in to do the right thing. How could she ever feel safe again if someone like me, the innocent magic toy maker, could just turn around and rape her like that? I had destroyed her, and to my horror, that realization hurt far more than anything about Theodora ever did. Bitterly, I wept, for only then did I realize that I loved her.

"Bos-... Federico?"

I felt a soft hand caress my face. I braced myself for a harsh retribution, but it was not undeserved. Seconds passed as I waited for her to strike me, beat me, hell, even kill me, but her hand only stroked my face softly. Bemused by my lack of punishment, I glanced up. The tears made my vision too blurry to make out the fine details, but Klaa sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at me.

"I-I'm not g-going to hurt you again," I told her. "Call the bailiff; I'll cooperate! I'll-"

She halted my blubbering in its tracks, leaning in and kissing me gingerly on the head.

"'Ya never hurt me," she cooed. "Not once, understand?"

"B-but I just raped you! I-"

Klaa chuckled like she thought that was the funniest thing. "Raped me!? Ah, Federico. . . I should've known 'yah'd never change."

"Hu-"

"Shhh," Klaa whispered, bringing a finger to my lips. "Quit bein' so stubborn and hard on 'yerself for a moment."

Her other hand kneaded my shoulder, and somehow I knew that I better listen to her. Still, the tears fell, and I felt truly horrified about my actions. But Klaa never reprimanded me for my behavior, not even from the perspective that I was being a blubbering idiot about nothing. Klaa did what she did best: Act as my helping hand.

"'Yah didn't do anything to me that I didn't wantcha to do, OK? Nod 'yer head, Federico. Good. 'Yer no rapist as far as I'm concerned."

"But I-"

"Gave me exactly what I wanted," Klaa remarked with a sly smirk. I must've looked absolutely dumbfounded, as she quickly followed that up with "What? 'Ya don't think 'ya were the only one to benefit from that, were 'ya? Geez, Fed, for someone who's so smart 'bout that magic stuff, 'ya sure are a bit slow where it counts."

I didn't have a good comeback for that accusation, but it wouldn't have mattered if I did. Klaa forcibly buried my head in her tits, snuggling me like I was some oversized teddy bear.

"I'm not one to talk," she admitted at last, real remorse in her tone. "I shoulda just been honest with my feelings, Fed. All that talk 'bout taking whatcha want, and I was too worried to even sit 'ya down and just say how I felt."

It finally clicked. All at once, every quiet remark, every weird look, every lingering touch, it all led to what, in hindsight, should've been entirely obvious: Klaa viewed me the way I had viewed Theodora– an unobtainable treasure that she should nevertheless cherish.

I kissed her. It was the same gentle affair that she had always done to me after a night of fondling. Her lips met mine. There was nothing left to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. In that moment, years of regret and shame finally melted away. We held each other close, drinking each other in a way considerably more innocent and romantic than usual. When we at last broke away for air, I noticed that her eyes were wet with tears just on the precipice of shedding. 

"Theodora is nothing next to you," I declared wholeheartedly. "You have given me so much; I was just too blind to see it. I love you exactly for who you are, Klaa."

She sniffled as the first tears fell, but her face broke into a beautiful smile. Now she was the blubbering idiot, but she was my blubbering idiot. I loved that little goblin.

My name is Federico Bronzeboot. I am a wizard who resides in the sleepy forest town of Woodsheart, and every day after work, I molest my maid. Although, truth be told, I wouldn't exactly refer to her as my maid anymore. We got married half a year ago. I was worried that the people of Woodsheart would raise hell over a goblin marrying a human, but it turns out that I carried more goodwill than even I gave myself credit for. Klaa was positively stunning as she walked down the aisle, clad in a crimson mermaid dress that matched her scarlet eyes perfectly. Also, it did a pretty good job at showing off that curvy figure I'd gotten so familiar with. When I gingerly slid that golden ruby ring onto her finger, Klaa suddenly yanked me close and pulled me into our first kiss as husband and wife. It was so unexpected and forceful that, combined with our differences in size, I tumbled into her and sent us careening onto the floor. When we rose, making deliberate efforts to show we were unharmed by the whole affair, the entire audience erupted into laughter, which made me smile. 

I remember seeing Theodora in the audience, a proud smile on her face and a little elven welp swaddled in her arms. I never told her how I feel, even now. Reflecting on it, I get the feeling that I wasn’t as subtle as I originally thought. Part of me thinks she always knew, and if she did, then that’s OK. Yes, maybe things didn’t turn out like I had originally wished they would. But that didn’t mean there was nothing in store for me. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t change a thing. Klaa needed me more than Theodora did, and most importantly, the feeling was mutual. 

Oh, and you better believe that not a day goes by where I don't have my hands all over her curvy body at some point. I don't think she'd let me stop that tradition if I tried.

Fate is a complex mistress. Sometimes things work out, and other times your plans go awry thanks to the most bizarre coincidences. Not everyone has a happy ending, sad as that may be. If there’s one thing I want to get across though, it’s this: Even if you don’t get the happy ending you wanted, don’t despair! Perhaps things weren’t meant to be because somebody needed you more. Be that as it may, it is up to you to be the kind of person your love wants, so always strive to do right by others and yourself.

Oh, and I’d advise against putting your hands where they don’t belong. I got lucky on that front, all things considered.

Chapter Text

For as long as she could remember, Yivee wanted to be a princess.

It was never an all-consuming ideal, but when nobody was looking, she'd allow those ambitions to fester. In her youth, her overactive imagination led her to pretend she was at a gorgeous ball, illuminated by sparkling lights that magically shifted through the entire color spectrum. Holding her tight, dancing with her, would be the dreamy man in her fantasies. Sometimes he was a human. Sometimes he was an elf, or an orc, or even a dwarf, but never a goblin. One thing was always the same, though: He loved her with all of his heart.

And that made her very happy.

However, despite that dream, there never came an opportunity to truly feel anything close like a princess, not in her society of origin. She was a goblin, and that meant communal living in a dank cave obscured from anything resembling close to polite society. Her responsibility was simple, unambitious, and indeed rather crude: When the time came to come of age, she was to mate with a male of her tribe and contribute to the next generation of goblins.

But she had heard tales. Yes, even in the dingy, dirty homes of goblin tribes, the stories reached her ears. She listened to whisperings of knights rescuing princesses (and even the reverse), of heroes traversing vast distances, encountering magnificent sights. She relished every story of supposedly disparate people uniting under common causes and discovering that they were more alike than different, and especially ones of idealistic and brave men and women changing the world. Long after most of her peers had forgotten the idle tales told by traveling merchants or captured prisoners held for ransom, she remembered, and those tales made her imagination run wild.

Goblin society, though, concerned itself first and foremost with survival. Goblins were dwarfed by most other races, and it was rather rare that one could hold their own toe-to-toe against any larger foe. Their strength lied in their ability to breed quickly and overwhelm foes through sheer numbers; Yivee knew that. But as the day of her coming of age drew closer, the thought of being nothing more than a vessel for pregnancy via a goblin she didn't even love grated her. She grew resentful, lashing out against the rest of the tribe, until finally she was exiled into the wider world. To the average goblin, that punishment felt like a drawn-out death sentence. To Yivee, it was an opportunity to live a life that, while perhaps not of her dreams, was nevertheless better than what destiny had originally presented her.

That had been three years ago. Now, standing in front of a mirror, clad in a dress as white as snow, her countenance was in awe of what she had become. She used to be such a skinny thing when she lived off the rations that the tribe doled out to each member. Now, she was positively plump, and in all the right areas. Her charcoal black hair, once mangy and unkempt, now appeared smooth as silk and tied in a cute little bun. Her green skin possessed a healthy glow, and saving the handful of moles dotted at various points along her arms and chest, remained unblemished. It was her eyes, however, that truly enraptured her: Black irises floated in seas of orange scleras. They seemed brighter than she ever remembered them being before. So full of life, so full of hope, so full of love.

"I really do look like a fuckin' princess," she spoke, every word heavily laced with a sense of unspeakable amazement.

She was so taken by her appearance that she failed to notice the figure approaching her. A familiar hand clasped her shoulder, jolting her out of her daze.

"Of course you do, Yi," a feminine voice spoke approvingly. "You're going to wow him today. No, that's not fair; you wow him every day already."

Yivee glanced up, her gaze meeting the person she considered her best friend: Anemara. A dark elf, Anemara stood tall and proud, even when compared to her own people. Her purple eyes were striking enough to ensnare anyone who happened to meet her gaze, as well as shrewd enough to deduce the truth in any but the most obscure statements. But despite her sharp, almost harshly elegant features, it was rare to see her without a kind smile.

Clad in a vibrantly orange dress that complemented her dark skin flawlessly, Yi's maid of honor (and only bridesmaid) looked almost as royal as she did, and (even in her opinion) twice as beautiful. There was something about elven women that made them, almost without exception, the pinnacle of feminine grace. For a long time, that had made Yi jealous of her best friend, but Anemara had a heart as strong as her features were graceful. In any case, Yi found that she had nothing to be jealous of after, well, he made his feelings clear, feelings that she had also harbored towards him for a long time.

Yi bowed before her taller friend. "Thank you, Mara," she whispered. "Thank you for everything."

Mara only patted the bride on her head and giggled approvingly.

"Hey!" Yi exclaimed, chuckling a bit so as to let her know she wasn't actually mad. "Don't mess up my hair, girl!"

Anemara retracted her hand at once. "Sorry," she managed. "It's just. . . I'm so proud of you, Yi."

Yi turned back to her reflection, scanned herself one more time, and nodded as she put her hands on her hips. "'Ya know what? I'm proud of me, too!"

"Is today everything you want it to be?" Anemara inquired.

"I think so," Yi confirmed. "Not yet, but when the vows're official, and we're married. . . and. . . our wedding night comes."

Her face flushed, reddened cheeks starkly contrasted by the surrounding green skin. She shook her head. After the proposal, she couldn't help but tell Anemara about her sensual, romantic, and downright erotic plans for the wedding night. But she had just felt like a goblin back then. Now? All dolled up in a wedding dress and gussied up? It felt very unprinvesslike. She didn't want the illusion to break.

"You alright, Yi?"

Yivee cleared her throat. "Yeah, I-I'm good. I think I'll shut up about that."

"That's a first," Anemara teased.

There was a loud knock at the door, jolting the pair out of their silly conversation. Without waiting for an answer, a dark-skinned dwarf poked his head in, covering his eyes as he did so. Clad in robes the color of freshly-smelted silver, he looked surprisingly regal. It was rare to see him out of his chainmail, in any case.

"I'm not looking!" the dwarf spoke before either even had the chance to call him out. "I'm not looking!"

"We know, Raklin," Anemara remarked with an amused giggle. "We can tell."

"Is it time!?" Yivee questioned excitedly. She rushed over and grabbed a bouquet of brilliant white roses from the desk. "I'm so excited! I'm so excited!"

"Almost," Raklin said with a shush. "Rikard's waiting. Just let me get back, and then you can begin your walk."

With that, the dwarf turned to head out. He still had his eyes covered, so he missed the doorway and bumped into the wall. With an embarrassed chuckle, he adjusted his position and managed to leave without further issue.

Time stretched on much longer than it had any right to. Yivee passed every second preening herself by the mirror. Every glance brought some imagined imperfection in her mind. She wanted to be as amazing as possible, just for him. He deserved nothing less. Anemara did her best to reassure her, telling her that she was already hauntingly beautiful, but although Yivee placed a lot of trust in her friend, her words were not enough. She had reason to believe that something might be wrong, reasons that were mostly unfounded, but nevertheless present.

Finally, after an eternity spent in that room, Raklin cracked the door open and peeked his head in. "We're ready!" he whispered excitedly.

Yivee squealed with excitement. She grabbed a bouquet of white roses and nearly dashed out of the room. The only thing stopping her from doing so was her long dress, which she was afraid to step on, and the uncomfortable stiletto heels she had insisted on wearing today. They left her awkwardly power-walking after Raklin, with Anemara following close behind. The elf knew her goblin friend was breaking the rehearsed order of the wedding, but she also knew it mattered little to Yivee. The goblin was known for her defiance, and it was her special day, so why not let her do things her way?

The dwarf led them down a hallway carpeted in a deep red and turned to the left. At the far end of the room, a pair of double doors stood shut. Yivee's heart quickened at the sight. She knew that she would forever be a changed woman once she entered those doors, and she couldn't wait.

"Give us a moment to get in place, Yivee," Raklin whispered as he glanced up at Anemara. The elf smiled down at him. They had been married just a year before, and their love for one another still burned as brightly as ever. Raklin extended a hand to his wife, which Anemara graciously accepted. "If I may, my dear?"

"You may," she chuckled. She threw one last glance at Yivee. "I'll do my best for you. You deserve nothing less. I don't care what anyone else thinks."

Yivee snorted at the reminder of a harsh truth. "Me neither."

But then she smiled. The nerves caused her to shake with anticipation, but she held her head high regardless. Upon seeing the brave display, Anemara and Raklin made their way towards the doors. Raklin gingerly opened one and squeezed in, followed by Anemara. When the door shut, and Yivee found herself all alone, she found that she had time to reflect.

She thought back to all of the hateful words she had ever heard since coming here. Every scornful expression flashed through her mind in an instant. Every dark moment where she found herself truly believing that she was nothing more than a wicked goblin, some harbinger of evil and mischief, ran through her head. There was a time where she thought this day would never come, where she would never earn her happy ending, where she truly believed that she had no value.

But that time had long passed.

Approaching the door, she heard the first strummings of a lute play a familiar tune. That was her cue. Every millisecond, her heart thumped in her chest, but she stood resolute. Her hand twisted the handle, and she stepped in.

The room before her was far from grand; this was just a simple marriage chapel for a village of a few hundred. There were much more amazing places to get married in, places that Yivee could very well have gotten married in if she so chose. However, this little chapel was where she wanted to get married. About 30 feet away stood a podium constructed of polished oak, where stood Raklin. Not far away, sitting on a simple stool and playing away, was Anemara. Every movement was so graceful, so alluring, but Yivee's attention was focused on someone else entirely.

The love of her life stood before her. Slightly short (for a human) and thickly-built, his face was marred with several noticeable scars. His was the face of a battle-hardened knight, but beneath the rough exterior was the soul of a graceful, righteous champion. Raklin knew that. Anemara knew that. As for Yi? She always knew. From the first words he spoke to her, from the first night he let her stay in his estate, Yi knew she would be safe and protected as long as he stood by her side. His hazel eyes fell upon her as a warm smile crossed his lips. Instinctively, she returned it.

It was not hard to walk down that aisle. There were no other guests to cast glances at. Even if there were, Yivee was confident that she wouldn't have been able to. Clad in a black jerkin worn over a saintly white doublet, he looked positively stunning. Well, to Yi, there was never a time where he didn't look stunning, but it was especially true now. All too soon, she found herself standing before him. Even if he was a little short for his race, there was still a considerable difference in height between the two. That wasn't the only thing that differentiated them. They were, in multiple ways, theoretically never meant to be together. But he had always told her that she was an equal in his eyes.

Sir Rikard the Reckless. Trollslayer. Bear-Rider. Hero of the Battle of Herman's Bridge. There was no greater champion for miles in any direction. Even then, in a kingdom constantly besieged by dragons, necromancers, and the wrath of evil gods, the knight was relatively minor among the realm's heroes. Still, he had won the favor of many for his actions. He could have gone on to further his adventuring career. By the dozen hells, he might've even found a position among the Crownguard if that was what he wanted. He could've had his choice of a wife from among the most beautiful of the kingdom's bachelorettes. However, doing so meant that he would have had to leave a little goblin girl behind forever, and that was something that he found impossible.

"Your eyes are as gorgeous as the day I found you," Rikard whispered. It sent warmth through Yivee.

She remembered the day he found her in the woods, alone, cold, hungry, and more or less naked from how tattered her ragged clothes had become. She begged him to at least make it quick, thinking he would cut her down without a second thought. Instead, he took her to his estate, bathed her, fed her, and warmed her by the cooking fire. He gave her a place to stay and expected nothing in return. Even then, Yivee took a long time to really trust him, but once she had, she fell for him entirely.

It took a long time for her to learn to reciprocate her feelings. Each day, there was at least a little time spent hoping against all hope that he might see her as the woman she wanted to be for him. And then the two had taken a walk in the woods one autumn day. One topic led to another, and before she could stop herself, she spilled her feelings right before him. That made her feel ridiculous. How could he love a stupid, ugly goblin like her? It was quite a shock when he knelt down and kissed her on the forehead. She remembered looking up at him. Those astute eyes said more than words ever could. He had always known, somehow. He had just been waiting for her to summon the courage within her. And so she melted in his arms, knowing at once that everything in her life was worth it in order to reach this moment.

Their ceremony was a short affair. Raklin was a priest of the weather god Hururi, not the goddess of romantic love Helene. However, the two shared the same pantheon and were known to be allies, which granted him enough divine authority to make the marriage official. The bride and groom slipped matching platinum rings around each other's ring finger, then kissed. It was far from the first time the two locked lips, but to Yi, it felt as though she had crossed the line and entered an entirely undiscovered state of bliss. All of the fairy tale stories she had heard? She was truly experiencing what it was like to get her happy ending.

She knew, however, that the hardest part was yet to come. Despite that dark premonition, she found herself utterly unafraid. She had been through worse, and in any case, she was not alone. Besides, by choosing to be married here, she brought it upon herself. It would all be worth it to see the looks on their faces.

The four fine folk celebrated with a few more songs and prayers. Old ballads of forbidden love echoed through the halls, serving as poignant reminders that Rikard and Yivee now counted themselves among their ranks. Prayers for a fruitful and happy marriage followed, and though Yivee did not consider herself particularly religious, even she felt the grace of the divines flowing through her. Finally, the time came for the hardest part: Leaving. Hand in hand, Yivee and Rikard approached the door leading out into the village. There was no telling what awaited her beyond the sanctity of this chapel, but Yivee didn't care. Judging by firmly Rikard clasped her hand, though, he did.

She glanced up at her newlywed husband, a warm smile on her face. "Rikard? It's OK."

He met her gaze, his face awash with a mixture of anger and shame. It was, of course, not directed at her. She could sense the heartache swimming through his very being. What she wouldn't do to take that away from him, but she knew she could only do so much.

"I wish I could believe you," he muttered. "Out of everything I've ever stood against, I never thought the hardest battle would come from my own people."

Yivee tightened her grip. "Whatever happens, I will not leave your side. I love you, Big Guy."

At last, that made Rikard's smile return. He looked so noble with that smile, in spite of his many scars. "And I love you too, my Little Scamp."

"Ready?" Anemara whispered, her hand on the door handle. Meanwhile, Raklin's hands glowed with a radiant light, ready to cast a spell at the first sign of trouble.

The pair nodded, saying not a word. Slowly, carefully, Anemara opened the door. The pair stepped out, finding themselves in the heart of a rather large village nestled within a comfortable valley. Rosecradle was always a picturesque place, something that probably contributed to its prosperity and prominence as a minor entrepot in the region. It was here that Raklin called home, and he had been granted the lands around it when he was knighted.

But the townsfolk had proven themselves far less wholesome than the sunny valley they called home. Even now, as their liege emerged from within with the love of his life in tow, a handful of human women began to point and whisper amongst themselves.

"So he did it, then? He actually married 'er?"

"So it seems."

"The kingdom's in deep trouble if we got heroes marrying monsters like that, that it is!"

"Aye, that's certain."

Monsters like that. Even now, living among these people for years, all Yivee was to them was just a monster. Now, she was no fool; she knew firsthand that her kind was capable of all sorts of monstrous things. They raided human settlements from time to time, stealing gold, supplies, and even livestock so that they could keep their cave-based tribes sufficient in hard times. The problem was that, even though Yivee had done her best to assimilate, they still treated her as some sort of ill-omen. All she ever wanted, well, besides Rikard's love, was their acceptance. It seemed an even bigger pipe dream than what she just accomplished.

But despite the sour truth, she held her head high. Though scorned unfairly by many, she had Rikard. She had Anemara. Although she knew him less than the other two, she also knew Raklin would guard her faithfully. Most of all, she had won. Oh, she knew the whisperings, the peasants pleading for Rikard to reconsider his 'outlandish' decision. This was what granted Rikard his title 'the Reckless'. It was not the result of any bullheaded actions on the battlefield, but an insult directed at a man who ultimately did nothing wrong other than love who he loved.

Most importantly, she smiled. She smiled even as more townsfolk dropped what they were doing and continued to point. She smiled even as the first 'Shame!' cried out. More joined it, a chorus of ignorance and prejudice that ate away bit by bit at Rikard. One hand protectively clutched Yivee. The other balled into a fist. It turned out a good thing that the knight had not decided to wear a ceremonial sword at the wedding. Otherwise, he might've yanked it from the scabbard and cut down a villager to make an example. His scowl was truly a wrathful sight to behold.

"Rikard? Rikard. . . You're scaring me," Yivee whispered. He glanced at her. With dawning horror, he plainly saw that she was telling the truth. At once, he breathed deeply and followed her example, smiling at the angry villagers.

"Woe to the fallen!" cried Oberon, the halfling innkeeper that had once served in Rikard's levy during the Battle of Herman's Bridge. Once, he had been one of Rikard's staunchest supporters. Now, even he seemed convinced that the knight he once knew was no more. "That great hero, seduced into evil by that green witch!"

Yivee had expected that something like this might happen. Emotionally as well as in actuality, she had prepared for it well in advance. Even then, she worried their comments might break her, that the sheer pressure would cause her heart to shatter. To her considerable relief, keeping her head up took no effort at all. In some senses, she was even just the teeniest bit sorry for the villagers. They were so convinced of their own righteousness that they were blind to their own evil. Back when she first came her, it was doubtless that she would have fought fire with fire. She would have become the very monster they saw her as. She thanked every good god she could think of that she didn't succumb to that temptation.

It was actually somewhat odd that Rikard didn't take it well at all. He had been one of the first to assure her not to take their utterances to heart. He had laughed in the face of their terrible comments, all the while protecting her, guiding her, giving her a home and safety. Lately, though, he had been much more bitter about it. And yes, Yivee understood that he didn't mean to scare her, but she wasn't lying. It was unbecoming of him. Even now, while he did a great job in suppressing his anger, Yivee knew it was eating at him.

"It's OK," she uttered quietly as she squeezed his hand. "It's going to be OK. They can't take it away from us, not if we don't let them."

It didn't hurt that Raklin had a shield spell at the ready. Nobody dared strike the four of them. Whether that was due to the spell or just a lack of conviction, it didn't matter. All the townsfolk did was join an ever-increasing chorus of contempt.

"Shame!" the villagers continued to shout. "Shame!" they exclaimed, growing louder. "Shame!" it echoed off the hills of the valley and carried itself through every corner of the village. "Shame!" it should've been all-consuming, utterly destructive. It should have ripped the spirit straight from Yivee, but she didn't back down. If anything, she strangely felt sorry for them, just because they were so utterly conditioned to hate her for something she couldn't control. They missed out on a good friend. By the time they finally reached Rikard's estate, a meager tower house on the crest of a small hill, the four friends took comfort in the fact that the hardest part was over.

Rikard, however, was less satisfied. Turning to the crowd with tears in his eyes, he raised a hand to speak. No silence was granted.

"Hear me!" he called in a tone that had the pretense of respect. "Good folk of Rosecradle, give me your attention!"

No such acquiescence came. Raklin flashed his comrade-in-arms a concerned look, one that Rikard ignored. His patient expression wore away, replaced with a scowl of pure wrath. His voice boomed like thunder. "Rosecradle, by my right as your liege, I command you to listen to me!"

That did the trick. Whether out of fear or some shred of reverence for the hero, the crowd finally fell silent. Rikard moved to stand in front of Yivee.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, alarm plain in her tone.

"Defending my wife from this slander," he returned. He approached the crowd, standing tall, as though he was about to slay another troll.

"You lot ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" he proclaimed, pacing back and forth in unconcealed fury. "For years, you have belittled and shamed someone who only wanted to live here! All she wished was to feel accepted, to feel safe, to love who she wished and get along cordially with the rest! You have robbed her of that! You have robbed her of respect, of dignity, of kindness, of everything she ever deserved, and yet you call her the monster! I may have tolerated it before, but no more! She is my wife, in whom I have placed all my faith and love. She has not 'corrupted' me! She has enriched my life beyond measure! I will not let you take that away from me! Go home! Go home, good people! Think about your actions today, and pray to the gods that my beautiful princess might one day forgive you!"

To call the silence that followed tense would be a terrible understatement. Neither Rikard nor his people backed down immediately. Instead, they stared at one another, long and hard. Only when Raklin marched over to his friend's side did the crowd finally begin to disperse, but not without a few backwards glances. Hope was rekindled within Rikard when he noticed a scant few wore expressions of self-directed shame, but many others still only shot glares.

Once the last of the villagers were gone, Rikard turned to face the others. Emotional fatigue trampled him like a stampede of horses. Trudging over to Yivee, he knelt down and caressed her hair. Tears fell from her eyes. Tears of sorrow? Tears of joy? Tears of fear? It was too difficult to tell.

"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't elaborate any further. Perhaps he was too tired to do so. All he did was rise and turn to the other two. "Thank you both," he managed, the righteous warmth and grace of the old Rikard showing themselves once again. "You have done a lot for me, and I appreciate it. Without either of you, I don't think what happened today would have been possible."

Raklin slapped his thick hand on Rikard's shoulder. "Think nothing of it, my friend. You would have done the same for me, were my marriage so bitterly frowned upon."

"Don't take their words to heart," Anemara stated, a gentle smile on her lips. The irony of the situation– the fact that Rikard took more offense to the villagers than Yivee did –did not escape the dark elf. However, she didn't blame Rikard. Even she could feel her blood boiling over the situation.

"You're right," Rikard relented, as he wouldn't have on the battlefield. "I shouldn't be so confrontational about it. It's just. . . I thought they would change, you know?"

"And perhaps one day they will," Anemara uttered. "Never underestimate a person's capacity to come to their senses."

"And I love you no matter what, Big Guy," Yivee chimed in, wrapping her husband in as tight of a hug as she could. The height difference made things a little difficult, but the spirit was definitely there. That made it melt Rikard's heart.

"Me too, Little Scamp," he replied, stroking her hair. She did not stop him. As long as he did it, messing up her hair was perfectly OK. A tear rolled down his cheek as he glanced over towards the village. "Me too."

The two couples departed shortly after that. It was common in the realm for newlyweds to be bedded by their guests, but neither Rikard nor Yivee very much liked the idea of being stripped down by anyone but each other, so they had opted not to carry that out. Afternoon came and went, the newlyweds spending time alone on the grey tower house's third story. That was where the bedchamber lied. That was where they would consummate their marriage, make it official. Oh, how Yivee had dreamt for that moment.

They did not strip themselves and rut like animals, though. Indeed, they did not make love for several hours after their ceremony. Instead, they danced, just as Yivee had always done in their dreams. There was no music to accompany it other than the serenades that passed their lips. There was no grand ball, filled to the brim with lovely couples and priceless works of art. There was, however, the glorious sight of an orange sunset peering in from the windows. Most importantly, there was Rikard. That was all that mattered. Her dream had come true; she was a princess!

"I love you," he would whisper periodically, picking her up in his arms and kissing her. How it made her heart jump for joy! It was not the first time they had done such a thing together, but it felt far more meaningful with that golden ring on finger.

"I am yours," she told him abruptly, some time after twilight supplanted dusk. "Now and forever. . . I know the road ahead is a little scary, but-"

"-I will protect you," Rikard finished. "They will not take you from me."

His tone indicated stress. Yivee's eyes wandered over to the bed. A saccharine smile crossed her face. "Make me yours in the eyes of the gods," she urged. "I've been waiting for this night for years, Rikard. Don't make me wait any longer."

A smirk crossed his face. He picked her up in his arms and carried her over. A blush overcame Yivee as he tossed her onto the bed. He climbed in next to her, lying on his side and staring at her.

Yivee rose to her knees. "Hey, look! Now I'm the tall one!" she joked, snorting at the cheesy quip. Rikard's laughter was quickly cut off when she straddled him, bent down, and kissed him. Passion overtook them as they awkwardly fumbled at one another's outfits, only breaking away from a storm of kisses to catch fitful breaths. Finally, Yivee's dress came off, exposing herself to him. Chivalrous as he was, Rikard helped her with his trousers before he started fondling her. His hands ran along her generous breasts, tracing a circle around her almost black areolae. He explored her belly in a similar fashion. She was so soft, so delicate, and all of her was his. At last, his hands went for the black bush between her legs. He did not stick a finger inside of her, not yet. Instead, he seemed to appraise her, like an awestruck artist lost in his own magnum opus.

"You're so beautiful," he finally managed, looking up at her, at those gorgeous orange eyes, at those amazingly-elegant long green ears. "My life is never as bright as it is in your presence."

"Shut up and fuck me," Yivee stated playfully.

She crawled towards him, taking a longing look at his toned, fair body, and especially the hardened member that seemed to call to her. She settled next to it, kissing it before taking it in her mouth. By human standards, Rikard was probably about average. By goblin standards? He was a mouthful. Yivee did what she was best at though: Adapt. Relaxing herself, she engulfed him down to the hilt, bobbing her head gently as her tongue explored his length. Wordless moans escaped Rikard, serving as encouragement for her to continue. She did so, gradually increasing her pace. Eventually, she opened her eyes, staring into his. Those eyes said more than any words ever could, but the gaze also distracted her. Eventually, she went too deep too fast. Her eyes widened as she gagged, and she found herself forced to release him as she began to cough fiercely.

"You alright?" Rikard questioned, rushing over to her and holding her.

"Y-yeah," she sputtered. "Got a little too, er, excited."

"You'll get better," he encouraged, his face morphing into a smirk. "Besides, I'd rather not waste my cum on a mere blowjob tonight, if you catch my drift."

"I sure hope you weren't," she chuckled. She leaned forward, ostensibly to embrace him. Her real goal, however, was to whisper right into his ear. "I'm gonna ride you dry tonight, my wonderful knight."

It sent a shiver down his spine.

"Lie down," she continued whispering. It was not a suggestion. She was wet, so very wet. The lewd plans she had told Anemara were once more swimming around in her mind. "Lie down and let me show you just what I've been waiting for."

She didn't need to tell him twice. He lied back, his wet cock twitching in anticipation. Yivee eyed it hungrily. She crawled over to it and aligned herself. For a moment, she did not take the plunge, aware that it would hurt to do so. But when she realized that this was what she was scared of, she could only laugh at her foolishness. She had come so far already; what was a little more pain?

And so, in a single, swift move, she took his length in her. She winced, gritting her teeth as he stretched her, breaking her hymen. But the goblin was known for her defiance. She rode him, moaning as the pain was gradually overridden by waves of immense pleasure. She could feel herself tighten around him as she rode, milking him for everything he had. Judging by his frequent, deep moans, she was doing a pretty good job.

"Oh, gods!" she managed. He started pistoning into her, forcing himself as deep as he could go. Oh, did it feel good! Every little snide insult, every hateful look, every hardship and every struggle was worth it just for the feeling of euphoria that flowed through her now. Gasps and moans flowed freely from her lips as her body bounced.

"I love you," she whispered huskily. A flood of tears poured down her face. The pain was completely gone now; her crying came from the overwhelming joy of her declaration. This was better than any dream, even if she wasn't quite the princess she dreamed of. He had always thought she mattered. She mattered. He mattered. Those fairy tales told in goblin caves? They were true where it counted, even if some of the details could be over-exaggerated.

"I love you too!" he called out. He was bucking faster. Yivee knew he was close. Both of them were. A smile stretched across her face.

"Cum inside me!" she squealed as his dick twitched wildly, every subtle movement overwhelming her senses. "Cum inside me! Please!"

She didn't know if he heard her, but it didn't matter. A moment later, she felt him fill her with his seed, just in time for her own orgasm to send her squealing. Her mind went blank, lost in a fundamentally indescribable state of exaltation. She collapsed into his embrace, wrapped up in his arms. As the two rode off their later stages of orgasm, they both inwardly concluded that it was everything they could have asked for.

Well, not quite for Rikard. Some minutes passed by before he spoke, although the question had been in his mind all day. He broke the silence as he stroked her hair. "Hey, Yivee?"

Twilight was gone, leaving the bedroom shrouded in the darkness of night, but there was still just enough light for him to see her eyes flutter open. "Yeah, my love?"

"I'm sorry about today," he managed. He glanced away in shame. "About the villagers, I mean. I thought. . . I thought they'd come around one day, that they'd see even a fragment of the good within you," his voice dissipated into a quiet whisper, and even that proved faint and trembling. "When I realized I loved you. . . I wanted what was best for you. I wanted to show you that you'd have a place here, t-that anyone in the realm could be judged by more than the sum of their parts, just as I had. N-now? I don't know what to do. I don't think I can ever give you what you deserve."

He fought the sorrow as best as he could, but it was nearly all-consuming. Only a sheer force of soldierly will kept him from blubbering like a baby. His self-deprecating thoughts might have utterly demolished even that, had a gentle green hand not caressed his face.

"R-Rikard?"

His eyes opened, and he found himself staring at her beautiful round face. In the dimness of the moonlight streaming from the nearby window, he caught the sight of tears streaming from those sunset-colored eyes. For a moment, panic welled up within him. Had he said something to hurt her? Thankfully, his fears were quickly abated when he saw her cracking the biggest smile he had ever seen her wear.

She swallowed. Her lip quivered. The tears continued to fall, but she did her best to hold firm. "I. . . I think you already have."

The princess kissed her prince one more time, and the two newlyweds quickly fell asleep, comfortable in each other's arms.

Chapter Text

"Finn!" Thrix cried as she rushed after her roommate. "Finn! Whaddya think you're doing?"

Finn, clad in only a towel, turned, his eyebrow raised in bemusement. "I'm about to take a shower. Why do you ask?"

Thrix bounced up and down anxiously, her face a complex mixture of emotions. One of them was evidently barely concealed panic, but the rest were too hard for Finn to read. "All alone? Taking a shower alone? You can't do that, Big Guy! You need a shower buddy!"

Finn rolled his eyes. "Oh Gods, Thrix, not this again!"

Thrix gesticulated wildly and seemingly aimlessly. Finn swore that his childhood friend never ran out of energy. She was always wild and manic, coming up with the most hare-brained plots imaginable. Still, he gave her his attention. Eventually, the goblin calmed down just enough to spit something out. "Think about it, Finn! Showering alone is dangerous! What if you drop the soap and slip and fall and break your skull? What if you turn the water on way too hot and burn yourself badly!? What if-"

"Thrix, I'm 20," Finn interrupted, raising his hand to stop her. Her gray eyes fixated on it momentarily as her slender yellow-green ears twitched. "I think I can handle whatever a shower throws at me."

Why are you even like this all of a sudden? He thought to himself. It was a very Thrix-like thing to come up with an outrageous plan or weird course of action, but her attention span was also the length of a goldfish, so it would usually be abandoned by the next day. For the past two weeks, however, she had absolutely insisted that she shower with Finn. So far, he had rejected her each time, whether through direct refusal or by showering when she simply wasn't around. Instead of abandoning her plans, however, Thrix only became more insistent with each passing day.

"Yeah, but you're a human!" Thrix argued. "You think you're indestructible, Finn. You need someone to look after you. I swear, anyone who claims that dwarves are stubborn clearly hasn't been around a human for long!"

"I am not stubborn," Finn argued.

"Yes you are."

"I simply like my privacy," he continued, undeterred. He turned away from her and continued his half-naked march towards the bathroom.

"Wait!" Thrix chased after him. In spite of their short stature, goblins could be quite fast, so she was on his heel in a split-second. "Someone's gotta watch your back, and who better than your best friend, eh?"

Finn inadvertently smiled, thinking about all the fond memories he had shared with Thrix. They had always been by each other's side throughout the years. When Finn got his shit kicked in by a power-tripping orc, Thrix got revenge by breaking into her locker and stealing the garnet necklace she had stashed in there. When a posse of bitchy elves tore at Thrix for being an 'ugly midget', it had made her cry so hard that Finn popped one in the nose right on the spot. He had gotten a week's suspension for that, but the grateful grin Thrix flashed when he told her it was worth it filled him with a sense of vindication to this day. For better or for worse, he was stuck with her.

And he wouldn't have had it any other way.

That being said, he also didn't want to shower with her. Well, that wasn't entirely true. In reality, he wouldn't mind having an excuse to be naked with her. Her round face, unblemished skin, smooth hair, and big eyes made her undeniably cute. That being said, he knew that if that came to pass, he might think with his dick and do something they both regretted. Nothing was worth throwing away a decade-long camaraderie.

"Thrix, you're not even four feet tall. Can y-"

"I'm three-foot-ten! That's close enough! And who knows? I can still maybe grow another inch or two! Mama says goblins don't stop growing until their twenty-first birthday!"

"Still, can you even reach the top of my back?"

Thrix nervously tapped her index fingers together. "W-well, I, uh, I could scamper up, probably. You know how good a climber I am."

Finn's eyes widened ever so slightly as he felt his dick react beneath the towel. The thought of a naked goblin hugging his back proved dangerously arousing. He forced the thought from his mind and smiled again, bending down to ruffle her black hair. Perhaps he had been too hard with his rejections. Making her feel valued might cause her to drop the thought. "I appreciate the offer, Thrix. I really do, but I can handle myself. I promise."

Thrix's ears drooped, as they often did whenever her plans failed. It was a telltale sign of defeat, and it was absolutely heart-melting. "A-alright, b-but if something happens to you in there. . . I'll cry. I'm serious."

"Nothing's gonna happen to me, Thrix," Finn assured from the bottom of his heart. He knew of a way to cheer his friend up. "Hey, after I get ready, wanna go out to lunch at The Great Griffin's Barbecue?"

Her eyes lit up with wonder. Barbecue was one of Thrix's three favorite things, the other two being wrestling and Finn. "Hell yeah!"

"I'll make it quick then," he promised as he rose. Then, without waiting for an answer, he disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The click of the knob as he locked it echoed throughout the hallway.

As soon as the sound of running water reached Thrix's ears, an impish grin spread across her face. "Not this time, handsome," she whispered to herself as she disappeared into her room.

"Not this time."

She could not remember when she first became conscious of her feelings. Perhaps it was high school, but she wouldn't be surprised if it went even before that. In any case, for a very long time, Thrix had viewed Finn as more than a friend. And although she constantly and confidently charged head-first into any other situation, when it came to just telling him how she felt, her blood always ran cold.

But now she had confidence. She had reason to believe he was into her after all.

"You should learn to lock your computer, Finn," she whispered to herself. Two weeks ago, while Finn was at work, Thrix had stumbled into his room to look for some misplaced silver earring, just on the off chance that it had somehow gotten in there. Was it a bit intrusive? She wouldn't deny it, but she genuinely meant no harm at the time. That all changed when she glanced over at his desk and saw his computer was still on. Curiosity got the better of her, and so she had climbed onto his chair and snooped around.

And what did she find, barely hidden within a 'note' folder? Porn. Almost exclusively non-human porn, too. There were dwarven women, elvish women, halfling women, gnomish women, and every other race that walked the world. What triumphed over all in sheer quantity, though, were goblin women. If Thrix counted the amount of goblin women she saw getting stuffed in that brief time period, she would need all of her fingers and toes combined over a hundredfold. No longer caring about the lost trinket, she had closed out of the folder, adjusted the computer so that it looked exactly as she had found it, and scampered out of the room. After an arousing date with Rosie Palms, she set her plan into motion. Days of attempted convincing had ultimately failed; it was time to try Plan B.

And so she returned a moment later with a bobby pin. Her agile fingers quickly worked the lock, and a moment later, she heard it give. Soon, she was wearing nothing but a triumphant smirk as she carefully opened the bathroom door. Sure enough, Finn was behind the curtain, singing quietly to himself. Thrix took a deep breath before she snuck toward the shower curtain.

"Shower Buddy!" she exclaimed as she slid it open.

"Gyaaaaah!" Finn roared in terror. His hazel eyes frantically glanced around until they settled on the naked goblin standing before him. His expression quickly morphed into a scowl. "Thrix, what the fuck!?"

"Have no fear, Shower Buddy, I'm here!" she declared, hopping into the tub next to him. "I'll keep you safe from any shower acciden-" she stopped talking upon catching sight of his cock. Her jaw went slack. "W-wow. . ."

Finn's eyes widened. Was he offended by the sudden invasion? Definitely. At the same time, however, the sight of Thrix practically drooling at his dick sent a pang of arousal through his body. "S-stop looking," he stammered, although he made no effort to cover himself. "Y-you're invading my p-privacy."

As if to rat him out, his dick began twitching, hardening before Thrix's eyes. Her enthusiasm was gone, replaced by an animalistic hunger. She approached it, stooping low slightly, examining it closely without touching it. "It's. . . bigger than I expected."

A long silence followed her statement, neither of them able to follow up on that proclamation. Thrix's hot breath tickled his cock, and soon it was at full mast. Finn didn't plead for her to stop; he didn't want her to. Eventually, Thrix gazed up at her childhood friend, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Can I touch it?" she requested. "I. . . I won't if you don't want me to, but I. . . I want this more than any lunch."

"G-go ahead," he relented. "B-be careful, or I'll end up. . . you know?"

Thrix snorted. "We're in the shower, Finn!" She leaned in close to the rest of his body and wrapped him in a hug. Another smile stretched across her face, but it lacked mischief. In fact, it was sickeningly sweet, as it always was whenever she was just happy to be around him.

"Love you," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear over the water. Then, she let go, stood before his dick, and gingerly wrapped her fingers around it. That yellow-green hand was just as proportionately small as the rest of her body, and it indeed made him look larger. In reality, he suspected he wasn't that big, but he knew he was big enough for her. In any case, when that first gentle touch caressed his dick, he could not suppress a grunt. Her hand was so soft, so gentle. She stroked him carefully, as if handling the most fragile thing in the universe, but even then, every motion was like heaven.

Wait, did she say she loved him?

"T-Thrix, wh-"

His own moan cut him off. She had found her rhythm, jerking him off at just the right pace. All the while, she stared up at him. The Thrix he had known and cared for after all these years was still there, but there was something different about her. She seemed entranced, absolutely addicted to the mere idea of copulation.

"You've wanted this for a long time, Finn," Thrix teased as her fingers continued dexterously dancing around his dick. "You've wanted to breed some poor little goblin slut with this monster cock, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Finn managed.

She let him go, but only to kiss the tip of his shaft ever so delicately. "It's OK, Finn," she muttered. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. No secrets between shower buddies, eh?"

Finn found that he couldn't look her in the eye. In spite of the intimacy of the situation, his face was a complicated mixture of shame and anger. "You've been on my computer, haven't you?" he finally muttered, defeat in his tone.

"Maybe."

"I didn't want you to think I was a freak," Finn explained. "That's why-"

"You kept me waiting for so long?" Thrix interrupted. She stopped stroking, staring up at him with a saccharine smile. "Gods, you could've saved me a lot of trouble, Finn," she remarked. With astonishing quickness, she scampered up his body until they were at eye level. "It's OK, though. I don't think I could ever stop crushing on you if I tried."

"You don't think I'm a freak?"

Thrix laughed. "Of course I do! But so am I! Us freaks gotta stick together, Finn; it's a dangerous world for our kind to be lonely in."

Her laughter died down more quickly than she anticipated, for the two were captivated by one another's gaze. Thrix, feeling guilty at what she intended as playful teasing, quickly found herself backtracking. "Uh, I was just kidding about the whole 'freak' thing. Sorry if I-"

Her apology was broken by a single peck on the lips. It was short and sweet, a sign of affection rather than pure lust. She answered it with one of her own, clinging onto him as they unleashed a storm of kisses upon one another. Finally, sensing a mutual presence of lust, Thrix pulled away. Her flushed cheeks ridiculously contrasted the color of the rest of her face.

"W-wow," she stammered. "That. . . That was. . . That was nice."

"Us freaks gotta stick together," remarked Finn. He reached around and smacked her hard on the ass, which made her shriek.

"You bastard!" she laughed. "Lemme down; I gotta show you how much of a freak I can really be!"

She scurried down Finn without giving him a chance to answer, and once more her attention was focused on that wet, hard member. Her tongue licked his glans playfully before she took him in her mouth. It was an awkward affair for the briefest of moments, but once she got a good taste of him, instinct took over. How many times had she practiced this? How many times had she pretended her dildo was the real deal? Thrix couldn't put a number on it; it had to be dozens, if not hundreds. She bobbed her head back and forth as her tongue explored and massaged his length. He tasted so good. Why did his cock taste like heaven? She didn't care enough to really consider it.

He was hers. Every movement elicited a shudder, and he wasn't the only one. Even as she devoured him, she could feel warmth overtaking her crotch. Something was running down her inner thigh, and it certainly wasn't water. Finn ran a hand through her wet hair, stroking it.

"H-holy shit," he managed with a shuddering breath. "W-. . . where did you?"

Thrix only hummed amusedly. She spit him out, though a trail of saliva still connected the two together. "Goblin women were born to fuck," she remarked, and that wasn't too far off from the truth. All she could think of right now was how much she wanted him to breed her. "Hey, I got a great idea!"

"So do I!" Finn declared, surrendering to his lust. He scooped her up in his arms and brought the tip of his dick to her dripping cunt. Just the briefest touch sent a wave of pleasure through the shower buddies. "Does this sound good?"

Thrix hesitated, glancing down at his cock. Then, looking up at him, at her best friend, at her love, she cracked the slyest smirk Finn had ever seen. "You read my mind, Big Guy!"

With that, he pistoned into her. A shriek escaped Thrix's lips. This was different from any sex toy. The real deal sent a sharp pain through her, but it quickly subsided as he began to thrust again, then again, then again. Before long, there was only bliss. He held her against the wall effortlessly, his hands nearly dwarfing her arms. He was big all over, at least as far as she was concerned.

Finn, meanwhile, was just as lost in the lust as she was. She was so warm, so delicate. Every little movement inside of her was tight. It was as if her pussy was milking him for every last drop of cum. Even the few initial thrusts felt overpowering to his senses, but he managed to hold it in. He found his rhythm and set it, working his way deep inside of her. The soft plapping sound of flesh against flesh only to further entice them to one another.

"Finn!" she screamed, losing herself in him. Her hands, desperate to cling onto something, settled for his upper back. Her sharp nails pressed into his flesh. It was a little bit painful, but it did little to stop him, especially since he knew she didn't mean any harm. "Oh, Finn! I love you!"

With the way she screamed his name, the way she dug her fingers into his back, one thing was certain: She was his. He couldn't help but chuckle at that realization. Of course she had always been all his; he was just too blind to see it. With every ridiculous scheme he played along with, with every time he stood up for her or she defended him, he had only endeared himself to her further. She loved him, and he could no longer deny that these feelings within him were more than just some weird fetish or pent-up lust. Subconsciously, his body had been trying to tell him just how much he wanted to be hers. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, especially with the unpredictability of Thrix.

He loved that about her.

But with the way she squeezed his member, he couldn't think too deeply for long. His pace began to quicken. He was close; he knew it. She knew it, too.

"Finn!" she cried, her eyes rolling up. "Finn! Inside! Insideinsideinsideinside!"

Something wet exploded out of her, not that Finn noticed. A sharp grunt echoed through the room as he shot rope after rope into her. Just as he expected, she milked him of all he had. By the time his member turned flacid and slipped out of her, he felt drained, breathing deeply. Nevertheless, he felt entirely satisfied, triumphant, as though he was an entirely new man.

"Hoo! That was amazing!"

It took Thrix a little longer to ride out the last of her orgasm. When she did, she glanced up at him and offered a cocksure grin, the kind she always had on the rare occasions where her plans went off without a hitch. "Told 'ya having a shower buddy was awesome."

Finn could only chuckle. "Well, you got me there."

He leaned in for another kiss, and Thrix gladly met him halfway. It was passionate, but not sloppy, the kind of affection to be expected from lovers.

"You mean the world to me, Big Guy," Thrix mumbled after their lips parted. She stroked his cheek tenderly "You always have. No more putting yourself down, alright?"

He nodded, smiling. "Can we still call each other freak?"

Thrix laughed. "Of course!" She glanced down at the cum leaking out of her, and only then realized that she was still in his arms. "Can you, er, put me down? I would like to get clean."

Finn did as she requested. "Barbecue after?"

"Hell yeah!"