Path of Their Own Ch. 01

Mila was seated with Michael on one side of the table, and Galen across from them with Celia. Sitting at the end of the table between them was a contented Flak enjoying everything the Willhers brought him. He, the Private, and the Elf had near-finished plates of food in front of them along with an empty jar of sweet-mead that the group had enjoyed together.

Even Celia had a drink in front of her, though it was in a considerably smaller cup compared to the others to accompany her meat-free meal. If only the Willhers had fish they could prepare, then her meal wouldn't have to be so vegetarian. Unfortunately there was nothing in their stores that her body could handle without making her incredibly ill. After a lifetime without consuming the wildlife she cared for, her diet was heavily restricted, and unlike how it was with the smoke from the torches and fires outside the last time she had been here, the forest Elf couldn't simply give a chant and wave her hand to free a spirit and make it all better.

"I'll tell you, after sitting in that dark dungeon, I couldn't wait to leave the Drow city and get topside. Princess had some decent food out for us, and having a real bed was nice, but I needed to see the sun," Flak said as he took another drink from his mead.

After listening to the trials Galen had endured since he'd seen him last, Michael just chewed his deer-steak in silence. Killing slavers by blowing up a crashed bomber, helping a Drow city win a war, losing his magic to a powerful witch and then getting it back. He didn't know if he was glad he stayed in Atzla, or disappointed that he wasn't there to back his friend up.

"You're tellin' me," Galen said while trying to chew. Shaking his head he swallowed what he had in his mouth and cleared his throat. "I spent two weeks down in Faerssune. When we surfaced, the daylight felt like it was gonna burn my eyes out my skull."

Flak grunted a stiff Uh-huh as he thought back to how his sockets felt like they were going up in flames.

"Hey, Galen, what happened to that rifle of yours? Is it still an annoying asshole?" Michael asked, cocking an eyebrow when Galen shook his head.

"No, durin' my first fight with Haru, it got beaten around pretty bad. A strip o' moss got ripped off the gun and it hasn't made a peep since. I haven't gotten around to healin' it yet so it's gonna stay that way until I do."

"Not surprised, thing was creepy as fuck," the Sergeant grumbled as he took another drink.

Listening to that, Flak gave a questioning look to the drink in his hand. He shifted his attention to the women at the table to see if either was as lost as he was but both of them seemed to know what they were talking about. Sighing and rolling his eyes at what was to be an additional note on his list of weird shit, Flak took another drink before he motioned with his mug toward Michael.

"So, that's a nasty lookin' scratch you got on your face there, where'd that come from?"

"This?" Michael ran his fingers over the four, scabbed lines running up the left side of his face from his jaw to just shy of his eye. Flak nodded while Galen leaned in to listen. A shamed look crept onto Mila's face as she turned away, but Michael put his arm around her waist and squeezed her against him with a forgiving smile.

"I got into a brawl with a Neko that put his hands around Mila's neck when she told him she didn't want him, she wanted me."

Flak frowned at the tone. "Wanted, like, a good time, or...?"

"No, 'wanted' as in she honored me to be her mate and hunter," Michael said with a firm stare directly in his eyes.

Flak still prodded him. "Every day?"

"Every day."

A damned genuine and proud smile appeared on Michael's face and kept growing against those claw marks, and when he looked at Mila, rubbing his hand affectionately along the fur of her arm, her expression warmed significantly. Almost how Celia looked at Galen sometimes.

"Thank you," the pretty Neko purred, and he pulled her firm against him, muttered a response into her reddish hair.

"So...just a brawl, then?" Galen nudged cautiously, his own instincts not quite as dull as Flak had thought.

Michael looked back at them and frowned. "Worse than that. Might've not meant to kill her but definitely meant to shove his prick into her. I stopped him, and the elders locked him up, but then he challenged me to a fight to the death rather than face a Willher court martial."

Glancing around the table, Michael could see the other two soldiers' knuckles whiten as their grips tightened up on their glasses. Mila suddenly leaned up against him and moved to rub his now-scarred hand that had been injured in the fight. He finished it up succinctly, not dragging out something he knew still gave Mila nightmares.

"We fought, he was sloppy, and I killed him. What you see on my face is the one lucky strike he got in on me."

"Well... Shit. Cheers to killing the fucker," Flak said, toasting his mug before he looked to the Private. "Nobody fucks with family. Even if they aren't part of your service."

His hand taking hold of Celia's, Galen raised his mug with the two Sergeants. Even Mila and Celia brought their glasses up, though the latter didn't know why. Together they tapped their mugs, the soldiers then tapping them to the table, and then all of them finishing what they had left. When they were ready for the next round, and possibly another meal, Flak looked to the Willhers at the other end of the hall and raised a hand to call them over.

But then the front door opened.

The group turned to see a Neko with black fur step into the room with a hooded figure right behind her. After a quick look around, the two of them turned to Galen's group and started toward them. Michael and Mila both stared at the new arrivals, the former noting the yellow plate armor and sword worn by the person hiding under a cloak. However, their suspicion quickly died as Galen smiled and raised his hand in greeting.

"Felyn, Petra! Y'all made it!"

"We did," Petra said as she sat down beside Celia. "We had to stop and retrieve one of your 'flashlights' so the horses could see, but aside from that, the trip was uneventful."

"You are looking much better, Galen," Felyn commented while taking a spot beside the assassin.

He bowed his head appreciatively. "Thanks, just had t' get the supplies outta my system. Where's the wagon? An' the stuff that was on it?"

Petra waved her hand dismissively, "Taken care of. A muscular male named Sayn met us at the gate with some of his warriors. They started carrying your boxes away while another of the tribe led us straight here."

"Perfect," Flak said, rising from his chair. "You girls sit down, get a meal in, then find a place to settle in for the night. I'm going to go check in on Sayn." He quickly turned to the other Sergeant. "It was nice meeting you, Michael."

"Likewise, Flak."

The two shook and the Marine headed for the door. Before he left for the outside however, Flak stopped just shy of the exit and looked back to Galen, "I'll be sleeping in the jeep to make sure nobody fucks with it, find me there in the morning."

The Private gave a thumbs-up, and then Flak was gone. With everyone's attention coming back to the table, Michael looked to the new arrivals and gave a welcoming nod of his head. "Evening, I'm Michael."

"Petra," the former Ra'zorlich said before looking to Neko across from her. "You must be Mila."

The Willher tracker smiled, though her nerves were showing through in her timid face and voice. "Yes. You are the Shadow Stalker that Farok spoke of?"

A fair bit of pride swelled in Petra's chest at the fear she could almost taste in this woman's voice. Servant or not, with or without honor, she was still once the leader of the most feared Nekos in Atzla. Mere mention of her order had a woman that knew she was friendly almost quivering at the name. To think that it had been a few years since she had left Ra'zorlich lands for a mission, yet the reputation never faded.

"I am the Shadow Stalker, and I appreciate your not killing my golden friend," Petra said while glancing to Michael. "Despite where we come from."

"Don't mention it," the Sergeant said before looking to the armored woman under the hood. "So, you're Felyn?"

The Drow lifted her hands and pulled the hood of her cloak back to reveal her nature; coal-black skin, purple lips, pointed ears poking out past the sides of her ashen hair that was drawn back into a bun at her nape. Both the Human and the Neko across from her tilted their heads in curiosity but to her comfort that was the limit of their reactions. Even as her crimson eyes met with theirs and she prodded their deeper emotions, she couldn't find any hostility. She could sense that they were a bit unnerved by her so-called "devil-like" appearance, but of all things she at least expected that.

"I am Felynshalee ual'Ssapafae," she introduced herself with a bow of her head. "But yes, I am called Felyn. A pleasure."

Everyone at the table save for Galen stared at the Drow at the mention of her full given name. Before she could be questioned on it however, a Willher cook came up carrying two wooden plates covered with meats and vegetables on one arm and two cups in the other. Much to the surprise of the Drow and former Ra'zorlich, he set his burden down before them and silently moved to grab Flak's dishes.

"Thank you," Celia said in Nekonian, and he looked to the Elf with a smile.

"Most welcome. Tell them to enjoy, we wish not to waste."

He scooped up what Flak left behind and carried it all back to the kitchen area of the hall to set about to cleaning it. Eyebrows raised, Felyn stared at the food in front of her then watched as Petra started to dig in. When her eyes moved to Michael with a questioning look, his expression matched her own.

"What?"

"Do I have to pay him?" Felyn wondered. "I hadn't even asked for food."

Grinning at the Elf's confusion, Mila simply shook her head, "We do not purchase food from our own. My people always ensure that none go hungry."

"Interesting," the Sun-Kissed whispered. Reaching into a pouch on the back of her belt, she brought out a utensil set and quickly set to quell her hunger, doing her best to ignore the uncivilized eating habits of the assassin beside her.

"So, aside from arming the Willhers to the teeth, got any plans for tomorrow?" Michael asked, looking to Galen.

"Yeah. Big plans," the Private admitted, finishing his drink. "I told ya 'bout how Pretayus had kidnapped Tree Elves ten years back."

The Sergeant nodded.

"Well, I got my hands on the records of those... 'sales.'" Galen shuddered as his skin crawled at the idea of a person being sold like an animal at a market. "We're gonna to go after them. Bring 'em home and see if we can do a little good along the way. Who knows, maybe we'll find another war to end."

A grin crossed Michael's face, "So you're going to be a real Abe Lincoln. Going to swoop across the south and free the slaves. What about the owners?"

Galen's mouth pursed. "Kill them if I can get away with it. Some of the Elves might be in a place where slavery's legal and if they are... then I guess it'll make the job more difficult."

Leaning forward onto the table, a serious look came over the Sergeant as he asked, "And what about going home?"

The young soldier paused for a moment, his hand instinctually tightening up around Celia's. He looked to his Tree Elf and she was quick to look back at him, her pale, white eyes scanning his before her bodily glow shimmered and she beamed.

"Working on it," he answered, looking back to his fellow paratrooper. "It's going to be on hold for a while, though."

Looking to one of the shutters and seeing the darkness outside, Mila leaned toward Michael and whispered something in his ear. He frowned for a moment and glanced outside before giving her a questioning look. She sucked in her lower lip at his expression but then whispered something else. Brows rising up, Michael cleared his throat and started scooting toward the end of the bench.

"Well, if you finish your campaign but still can't get home, you're always welcome here. I'd stay up for longer, but it's an early day tomorrow," Michael said while standing up and taking Mila's hand to help her to her feet. "There's a tent for visitors near the front gate, on the right if you're facing out. Or if you want, the scout cabin is still just outside the village."

Galen waved farewell as the couple moved toward the door, "Thank you. Good night Michael, Mila."

When they had gone and left Galen alone with the three women sitting to his right, the table went quiet. With the end seat free for the taking, the Private moved to that spot that Flak had vacated and Celia was quick to move with him and park herself in his lap. Smacking her lips and retracting her claws to lick her fingers clean, Petra soon became the one to break the newfound silence.

"Nice man, but a bit dense. Mila smelled ready to fuck him dry."

Eyes widening, the Private's gaze snapped to the assassin as Felyn dropped her utensils to burst out laughing. Quickly trying to compose herself, the Drow nodded in agreement and leaned forward to look past the Neko and see the now red-faced soldier's reaction. And that only made it funnier.

When she eventually managed to calm down enough to form words, she giggled out, "Oh yes, from what I felt from them, I doubt they'll be clothed for long. Do you have such plans tonight, Galen?"

His lips were tight together as he sheepishly looked to the table. Celia, understanding just enough to follow the conversation, cast a smirk at the two women and cozied up to her soldier. One hand moving to his thigh and the other over his shoulder, she pressed her chest up against his and fed him a very hungry look. The three temptresses could barely contain their laughter as the young man's shade deepened to match the Drow's eyes.

"This is very sudden," he stammered.

Trying her best not to enjoy this too much, Celia started whispering in his ear as her hand moved from his thigh to his crotch. When that movement turned to gentle strokes on the outside of his pants, both the assassin and the Drow glared at the green-haired minx in unison. Especially when she grabbed his hand and pulled it to the warm cleft between her legs.

"Perhaps we should leave him to Celia this eve," Felyn whispered, nudging Petra as she looked to the three Willher males still sitting in the middle section of the long table. "There's more young men over there."

"If they'll break Nekonian tradition," Petra whispered back, getting the Drow's confused look in reply. Not to leave the Empath wondering, she explained, "We Nekos have mating rituals. Courting, spending a night under the moon, a judgement before the tribe. Breaking tradition is very bad for one's reputation unless it is with a servant like myself."

"Because you are a 'nothing,'" Felyn guessed.

Petra nodded with a sultry smirk as she openly rubbed a hand up her belly and over her breast while eyeing the young males. "In Nekonian law, I do not count. I can fuck them all night."

"Hungry slit," the Drow cursed in her native tongue before noticing Galen's chair was empty.

Celia suddenly leaned in between them from behind, grabbing their arms and trying to pull them from their spots on the bench. "Come, friends. Join fun."

The two glanced at each other, then to Galen who couldn't seem to decide if he was excited or embarrassed. With a broad smile on each of their faces, neither the Neko nor Drow needed to say a word as they rose from their seats. Ignoring the lecherous gaze of the Nekonian boys, they happily followed the Elf pushing her soldier out the door.

..................

Flames erupted from the logs in the scout cabin's fireplace and Felyn stepped back to let the magic fire turn into a natural one. Behind her, Petra and Celia were pulling their Human from his clothes so fiercely that he looked worried they might rip off buttons or shred something. With how the Neko yanked open his tunic, she damn-near did.

So this is how surfacers feel desire with their own, the Drow thought as she relaxed her control on her Empathy. A steady heat grew in her loins as she unconsciously connected with the others in the room. She could have started steaming under her armor with what she felt from Celia and Petra alone.

Her armor had to come off. Now. First her cloak hit the floor and she started on the plates protecting her arms, hands fumbling with the latches. A calm sense of arousal stepped in front of her and she looked up to find a naked Celia standing within arm's reach. The Tree Elf's composure helping calm her desperate hands.

"Let us help," she whispered, reaching for an armor clasp on her side.

A moment later, Galen and Petra were on the Drow's left and right, the former wearing only his pants and the latter in the furry nude. Together the three of them worked on her bindings and methodically removed the protective layers from her lithe body. All the Drow did was stand there, trying to fathom what was going on.

"I can feel your power in my chest, how... hot you are right now," Galen whispered as he pulled the plating that covered her torso up and over her head before setting it aside. "You're gettin' more control over yourself."

Her upper body was stripped of its metal encasement to leave her standing in just her leg armor and yellow, felt long-shirt. "I have since the crystal woke in Faerssune. Now more after that dragon."

She could feel the lust, the love, the desire, all swirling within her from the three bodies caressing and stripping hers. When her tasset plates came off and her leg plates right after, she swore she was ready to drip right through her leather pants. The enchanted tanneran in her armor meant to control her body temperature couldn't help her any longer.

The last of her armor came off, and Galen was circling around her back while Celia went to her knees in front of her. His lips pressed to the side of her neck and his hands circled around her belly to cup her breasts. Then the flap in the front of her pants meant to give her quick access to relieve herself was opened up to let the steamy air out of her crotch.

Formed in a devious smirk, a curious pair of golden lips came in to plant a soothing kiss on her groomed, white patch down below. Furred hands started working her pants down over her hips. Strong hands rubbed over her breasts before coasting down her sides and lifting her shirt and adding it to the pile that was her armor.

When her pants cleared her knees, Celia's tongue came forward to lick her purple nub at the top of her labia. The sudden shock had Felyn grabbing onto the Elf's head with her hips pulling back and her body leaning forward. That fuzzy hand grabbed her by the jaw and made her turn her head just in time for her lips to meet Petra's. The Empath's eyes widened as a rougher feline tongue raided her mouth and a soft, slick, Elven one raided her labia. All while those calloused, male hands eagerly toyed with her breasts.

Without warning, the Neko pulled away from Felyn's face and the Drow nearly stumbled forward to bring their mouths back together. Two fingers pushed up into her pussy and her voice squealed at both the sudden intrusion and Celia's bold sucking of her nub. Even though they had just started, Felyn was already nearing her first finish.

"I said she would enjoy it," Petra said with a clear air of smug satisfaction. "Even the thickest shells can crack with the proper attentions given their weakest points."

The Drow glared at her, growling despite being on the edge of enough arousal for four. "Stuff your cunt, Petra..."

"Not yet, but soon," Petra promised, showing wicked fang. "You should be more concerned of the Tree Elf tasting yours. Much more dangerous in my opinion."