This isn’t an update.
It’s a catalyst.
Dragon-(S)Layer
Part II: Zui Quan
Once Upon a Time there was a beautiful, elegant woman, who found herself whisked away to a wondrous and curious magical island.
“This sucksssss…” Kiyohime muttered drunkenly, as she lay facedown in Onigashima’s foul sand, her barely conscious state owed itself to binge-drinking oni grog and getting the fire-starting spit beaten out of her by her Master’s entourage of would-be Momotarou characters. She twitched like a squirrel flattened by a rice cart, next to the steaming corpse of Todorokikemaru, the great red beast himself, looking like she truly did belong there next to him and the rest of the beaten demons. “This sucksssssSSSsSssSuuhh!!!…
“My dearly beloved Anchin’s an idioooot… I’ll gut ‘em all… Pluck that thieving pheasant… Dine on monkey brains and dog rump roast…”
Of course, the Servants Fuma Kotarou, Musashibo Benkei, and Ushiwakamaru (the damnable pheasant, monkey, and dog in question) had left alongside Chaldea’s one and only Master long ago. Her fifteen minutes in the spotlight had counted down to zero, and by the hand of their Master—HER beloved, noble Anchin—the beautiful lady and the proud oni were soundly beaten like the second-stringing comic relief they were tragically cast as. No longer were they the last challenge separating the so-called heroes from the means to ascend the evil mountain; the story deemed that they stay down for the count.
“This suuhhhcksssssss…” Kiyohime said as she feebly pawed at the ground, too weak to even grind the Island’s puny pebbles in her palm into soft powder as a display, for her eyes only, of quiet defiance.
She hadn’t heard his approach, so caught up was she in her agonizing. With a firm but gentle hand Kiyohime was lifted from the dirt. The beautiful, elegant woman was removed physically and spiritually from her despair. As if in celebration, the sun that shined through overcast smoky skies felt gorgeously, overwhelmingly radiant and bright.
“You don’t look so well, m’lady,” said Siegfried, Kiyohime’s glorious soon-to-be knight in shining armor—
“Question!” Bathory’s hand shot up and over her head.
“Very well, then. Ask away.” Kiyohime said, allowing her friend the floor.
“I don’t understand! How is this recent? We all first met here, in the Orleans singularity. When did this even happen?”
“It recently happened in my imagination.”
“These events are way too specific!” Bathory listed her issues with this supposed experience. “What’s this about an Onigashima Island? What’s a Momotarou and his animal friends got to do with it? Why’ve things happened the way they did the way you said they did?”
“It’s actually allegorical.” Kiyohime said.
“…and why is my boyfriend the one who helps you out of your slump and there’s that glowing description of him???”
“…that’s also allegorical.”
“Why is it allegorical?!”
“Because being a storyteller is a trait conducive to being an elegant lady.”
“No! I mean, in what way is it supposed to be allegorical, because I’m confused!”
“Have patience, and the meaning will be clear.”
Anyway. Being the chivalrous, Anchin-like gentleman that he is, it was par for the course that he swept Kiyohime off of her feet and whisked her away to one of Onigashima’s mineral springs to help her heal her wounded heart—
“What, what WHAT!! Why is this a development?!”
“You’re not such a good listener, Liza.”
“You’re not such a good storyteller, Kiyo!”
“Do you not wish for me to tell you this?”
“I’m not sure I do, now! Why do you keep getting Sieg involved in this sordid, convoluted tale?” Bathory rather jealously went into interrogation mode, her cheeks flushing-berry red from indignation.
“As I said, it’s allegorical!” Kiyohime merely replied. “This is fable meant for Eliza’s ears and hers alone.”
“I don’t follow whatsoever.”
“I am the embodiment of single-minded love, of devoted lewdness, and I want to romantically aid my friend in that way.
“But my advice can only be visualized through terms of ‘Kiyohime’ and ‘Kiyohime’s dearly beloved Anchin.’ ‘tis what I am, as Kiyohime.”
The madness of love, a love worth killing for. Emotions so stifling they were pure, so monstrous that they warped a girl into a twisted serpent, a spontaneous combustion of dragonhood. ‘tis Kiyohime, indeed, and par for the course as far as anything that concerned her.
Anyway. Being the gentleman that he was, he allowed her to clean her wounds in peace and privacy – but being the lush, lovely woman that she was, she didn’t want it. “Anchiiiin, come warm me uuuuup, the water’s cold!!” Kiyohime slurred, taking a swig from the booze-gourd before and after she cried out in an obvious lie, her intentions betrayed by the thick steam rising from the water’s surface.
Siegfried-the-Anchinlike was compelled to the waterside where she recuperated. Not because of her voice was lovely and needful, like a siren’s call, though that was undoubtedly true. No, it’s because Kiyohime was plastered as a wall and showed no sign of sobering up. Her voice sparkled like angelsong, but was wrapped in a haze of inebriation-fueled unreality and lovesickness.
“Question!” Bathory’s hand again shot up and over her head.
“Yes?” said Kiyohime.
“Do I need to get that drunk, or will just a little tipsy do?”
“Enough to open your heart and legs alike.”
“Ahh! I see, I see! The wisdom of the east is very sage!” Bathory said, nodding with her chin on her hand as she took mental notes.
Back in Kiyo’s story, Siegfried asked “Are you sure? It seems warm enough to me.”
“I feel it in my bones, Anchiiiiin,” she said. It was asked of him from a person in need, so he felt he had no reason to not comply. Without an ounce of shame, for what shame was here in helping the downtrodden helpless, he dressed down to his birthday suit and swam his way over to Kiyohime to keep her company. She giggled drunkenly.
“Could it be from your wounds? Chill from the blood loss, perhaps?”
“Ah-ho! Being blood is a crucial ingredient to mood-setting – blood on your body, and his too!” Bathory’s was proud and vindicated by this detail. Kiyohime smiled, like an instructor pleased with such an excellent student. “It doesn’t have to just be from battle. It could also be on your period.”
This positively scandalous footnote made the countess start. “D-During a girl’s most dangerous time!? B-B-But that m-means—!!” Kiyohime nodded. Bathory’s blush returned with a fucking vengeance.
“Blood loss, you say?” Accentuated by a hefty swig from the gourd, Kiyohime didn’t break eye contact with him.
“—then, I’ve a need to replenish my fluids, Anchin.”
With the serpentine grace of a sea snake, Kiyohime zeroed in on him and went to work. Her hand went up and down as warm water and a warm mouth embraced Siegfried. Submerged in the water, with a belly full of drink, yet all she thirsted for was what only Siegfried-the-Anchinlike could give her. He groaned in wordless protest, filled her throat as he grew under her touch. She hummed, the sensation tickled him, and she pressed on, sunk deeper into the steaming pool. She wouldn’t allow him the chance to refuse her.
She emerged from the water. Not to breathe, but to steal a selfish glimpse of his of his charmed face. Her hair stuck close to her head, and droplets of hot water clung to and slid down the curves of her breasts and past her yellow bikini’s top. Yes, Kiyohime wore a swimsuit under her clothes that day, for nothing else in the world sets a man’s heart racing like a beautiful woman in stylish swimwear. No, you don’t have to always wear it every single day under your clothes, Liza. Just when you think you’ve a chance to get lucky. Although, more power to you if you can make them wonder just what it is you’ve got on as your undergarments this time. Make their imaginations wander and wonder, visions of you moving around and sweating in it and making it smell so sweetly with your feminine musk all day long fill their heads. “Is it just panties?” he’ll think, “Or something made to get wet? So, so very wet…?”
Either way, the swimsuit is battledress for a maiden in love. It is armor and weapon alike, and only as good as its wielder. Remember that always.
In that vein, exhibition here and there makes for fine tinder to stoke the flames of burning love. We’re already equipped for that, so that’s good. Skin here and there, an accidental panty flash or something in danger of a stiff wind? Such things are essential for the cultivating of an erotic image, ready to be weaponized and shot straight through the heart and into the part of the mind that sears with desire.
Anyway. “Has it been long for you?” Kiyohime jerked him under the hot water, pressed her stomach against his tip. “How long has it been since you let it all out?” She continued to stroke, to rub it in junction with her belly.
“How long will it take to give me a drink?” went the loaded question as she herself aimed to get his load.
Unfortunately—but not unsurprisingly—he was weak to Kiyohime’s feminine wile. But, that was fine. Anchin was honest. Anchin was truthful. Anchin had learned his lesson to NOT TELL LIES ANYMORE after Kiyohime was through with him. Kiyohime had man an honest man out of Anchin. That’s why Kiyohime had been rewarded with the opportunity to reunite with him, regardless of the guise the cycle of Samsara had deigned for him to appear in. So his vitality floated on the water, as if the surface tension were a serving platter meant for Kiyohime. She obliged it, didn’t abandon Siegfried-the-Anchinlike spent proof of pleasure to be taken apart by the spring. Kiyohime allowed herself to pull away from contact with him, cupped her hands, and drank from the simmering spring, mineral water and heroic seed all.
“It’s just like milk tea with YOU as the special ingredient. Simply divine, Anchiiiiin.” She smacked her lips, licked her fingertips and ran her tongue over her palm with passion identical to what she gave from her mouth to his manly cock.
She also took another swig from the drinking gourd for good measure.
“That’d be one way to put it,” Siegfried noted. His sword remained drawn, ready to continue battle.
“Dehydration is not good, Anchin, my love. Here – stay replenished and eat of Kiyo’s ripe peach. Its natural juiciness is the mortal enemy of all thirst.” She raised her hips from the water, put her soft and full derriere on display, the bright yellow bikini bottom wrapped tight around her waist and wet from more than just water as she toyed with a lone side-tie, her gaze meeting with his over her shoulder.
He nodded. “You. You’re right. All of this hot…water is making me thirsty,” and that woke the sleeping dragon. He peeled the bottom off of her rump himself, threw the thing of swimwear away, left to float or sink in the hot spa. It didn’t matter to him. Only that it was off of her body, out of the way of him and his appetite. He buried his face into Kiyohime with such vigor that she was pushed into the water, and they both sunk below the surface. He tasted her, sticky and sweet even in the water as she leaked. Siegfried licked her lips, and his tongue, serpentine-mobile and controlled, probed her grotto. When it tired of that, wanted to expand its territory to the other subterranean tunnel it went to and made its home in that tight, elastic, hot underwater cave of hers usually so secretly nestled between her two plump seamounts. Kiyohime gasped, the sound was mumbled by the water and escaped as bubbles that freely flowed from her mouth.
Anchin being Anchin, and this particular interpretation Anchin being a famed dragon slayer, he knows it weaknesses. A soft spot, or the reverse scale, a dragon slayer has aptitude to locate and exploit it. He reached around to assault Kiyohime’s vulnerable clitoris, only to find that her hand was already there, circling it and herself into a wave of bliss. Just as well, which left him room to dig his forefingers into her so deep it was like he was digging to find the treasure buried in her. Again and again, still, Kiyohime’s voice burbled under the water, bubbles welling forth to pop once they reach the surface, her hair gracefully, idly floated in the water, going with the flow of the natural currents and Kiyohime’s sporadic, pleasured movements like pale riverweed.
An aquatic screech, and with that Kiyohime gave herself over to him, and for her reward was taken to a watery heaven.
For a snippet of time, she did not move. There were no bubbles to babble forth. Nor silent screams to wail. Her limp body was rolled onto her back by the current, and she gazed blankly at the surface, basking in the afterglow that an Anchinlike someone had gifted to her.
“——And then he pounces on you, I mean, me, because Sieg is such an animal once you wake Fafnir!” Bathory interjected.
“That would be very much like him, wouldn’t it?”
So it would, and so it was that Kiyohime was pulled to the surface by big, strong arms. He hoisted her like she weighed no more than an elegant porcelain doll, lifted her and pressed her against the water’s edge, against a set of steps carved into the living rock. The hotness and wetness of it all made it a simple matter to claim her tight and tempting pussy to claim it for his own.
“That’s a lovely swimsuit,” Siegfried huffed as he took her. “It fits you well.”
“Thanks for noticiiiiiiiiiiiinggggghhh!!” Kiyohime said, too busy feeling it deeply to notice or appreciate the irony in how he complimented her AFTER he pulled her cups to the side, exposing her flush, scale-hard nipples perfectly centered atop her breasts. Breasts that flowed and gave with each time he rocked into her, each time their hips met for a split-second, only to separate an instant later, but meant to come together again in reunion. Her breasts fit into his hand perfectly, and he couldn’t resist giving those firm nipples a tweak as he railed into her. Kiyohime’s gasps became breathier and more pitchy as he leaned over her, a hand beside her head and another grasping a horn of hers for further stability, to grant him speed.
She knew what that meant. Her walls and legs pulled at him, adrenaline spiking, doing everything she could to desperately so that it would all stay in for when her Anchin’s dam would inevitably burst and flood her with his sticky, hot whitewater.
Hot and sticky it was, thick, as if to declare her previous efforts with her hand and mouth had amounted to naught. Hot enough to make this spring they romped in feel tepid and impotent against her skin. She felt every spurt he could muster all the way to the gate of her womb, her vessel whitewashed from within by his primal, mighty essence.
As he erupted inside of her a flash of lightning sparked atop of the oni’s evil mountain, hidden behind thick, dark clouds. The battle against Ushi Gozen, the master of this Onigashima, had begun in earnest. But, she had lost, and her role in that cheesy charade had ended with her defeat. The couldn’t care anything about this event anymore, and were content to lose themselves in each other for as long as this fantastic land remained a reality.
“—and that’s how Kiyo recommends you push the envelope with your relationship.” Kiyohime bowed, her time in the spotlight over, for now.
“Bravo! Bravo to that advice, my darling friend!” Bathory thanked her for all of the mental notes she had been given by the Berserker woman. “That’ll be something to look forward to when we make it out of this sealed-off stage.”
Though their victory against the dragon witch Jeanne d’Arc was guaranteed, Bathory remained in high spirits, optimistic. Mood-maker that she was, it was near impossible to see her boundless energy and not get caught up in it.
But, the conversation had now dragged to a halt because of reasons. If one were to try to decipher what those reasons were, one had to look no further than the undisguised expressions of need and want on the two Servant’s faces. One could only speak of the erotic so much, for so long, such empathetically that it was also near impossible to avoid hot and bothered-ness.
“Well, now…” said Bathory.
“Now… then?” replied Kiyohime.
“I’m, I’m going to go back into the forest for a bit now, Kiyo. Pick the flowers, so to say.” She scratched her chin, and Bathory’s tail twitched nervously out of impatience.
“Pick some wild fruit too, while you’re at it,” Kiyohime replied, with a knowing, coy nod. “After all, who’s to say some wandering hero won’t help you pop a cherry?”
“You—!” Bathory went. “…you, you read my mind. Maybe my luck for that will improve if a monster attacks me.” With a double-entendre, Bathory left. To pick flowers. To get lucky. Either way, it was something she did with herself in mind.
In a forest this cold, the one, true Anchin might need someone to warm their bed. With that in mind, Kiyohime went to find Chaldea’s one-and-only Master and narrow her defensive perimeter. Shielder and Ruler surely wouldn’t mind.
“Your kissessss lift me higherrrr, like the sweet song of a choirrrr. You light my morning skyyyy—” she quietly sang her own take on an anachronistic tune granted to her via the combination of Grail knowledge and personality aspects of the girl--influenced by the good doctor Romani Archiman's tastes and meddling alike--responsible for the Lord Chaldeas' summoning system under her breath as she entered the campsite.
Then, if they did?
“—with burning love~”
They could go die in a fire.
The Saga Continues
- - - Updated - - -
This would've happened sooner but the old drafts sucked ass and it wasn't until a whorl of inspiration came from a couple of fairly obvious sources.
UPDATE:
Catalyst failed miserably, but that's okay, it could've been worse
Originally Posted by Elf
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