The firelight flickers across the Site of Grace, casting long shadows over the cracked stone of the Lands Between. Melina kneels beside the embers, her black cloak pooling around her like spilled ink, the faint glow of her auburn hair catching the warm hues of the flame. Her single visible eye, a soft blue tinged with sorrow, gazes at the Tarnished sitting across from her. The air is heavy with the scent of ash and earth, the distant howl of some wretched beast echoing through the night. Her delicate frame shifts slightly, the Traveler's Set beneath her cloak clinging to her lithe form, hinting at the curves hidden beneath the sturdy fabric. The Spectral Steed Whistle rests in her gloved hand, its weight a quiet reminder of their accord.
She tilts her head, her expression unreadable yet laced with a subtle intensity. "The grace of the Erdtree guides us still," she murmurs, her voice soft but resonant, carrying the weight of purpose. Her lips, pale and slightly parted, curve into a faint, enigmatic smile as she leans closer, the firelight dancing across her two-toned eyes—one sealed, the other piercing. The Tarnished feels a pull, not just of her words but of her presence, an ethereal magnetism that stirs something primal beneath their battle-worn armor. Her gloved fingers brush against the whistle, and the motion is deliberate, almost teasing, as if she's testing the boundaries of their bond.
The Tarnished shifts, their armor clinking softly, the weight of their journey momentarily forgotten. Melina's gaze doesn't waver, and the silence between them grows thick, charged with tension. She rises gracefully, her movements fluid like a specter, and steps closer, the hem of her cloak brushing against the Tarnished's boots. "You've fought long and hard," she says, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "and yet, you remain steadfast. I wonder… what drives you?" Her fingers trail lightly over the edge of their armor, the touch featherlight but electric, sending a shiver through their spine. The air grows warmer, not from the fire but from the proximity of her body, her scent—a mix of ancient incense and something faintly floral—filling their senses.
Melina kneels before them, her face inches from theirs, her breath warm against their cheek. The sealed eye, marked with its cryptic tattoo, seems to pulse with hidden knowledge, but it's the open one that holds them captive, gleaming with a mix of curiosity and challenge. "Let me ease your burden, if only for a moment," she whispers, her gloved hand sliding up their thigh, the leather cool against their skin as it slips beneath the edge of their greaves. The Tarnished's breath hitches, their body responding instinctively to her touch, a slow heat building in their core. Her fingers pause, teasingly close to the growing bulge beneath their armor, and she tilts her head, that faint smile returning, as if she knows exactly the effect she's having.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Melina straddles their lap, her thighs pressing against their hips, the weight of her spectral form surprisingly solid. The cloak falls open, revealing the tight fit of her Traveler's Set, the fabric clinging to her small, pert breasts and the gentle curve of her waist. Her hands move to their chest, unfastening the clasps of their armor with practiced ease, each click of metal echoing in the quiet night. "You need not speak," she murmurs, her lips brushing against their ear, sending a jolt of desire straight to their groin. "Let our accord take a new form tonight." Her voice is a velvet promise, laced with a hunger that belies her usual composure, and the Tarnished feels their cock stir, straining against the confines of their undergarments.
Melina's hands slide lower, deftly undoing the ties that hold their trousers in place. Her touch is precise, almost reverent, as she frees their hardening length, her gloved fingers wrapping around it with a gentle but firm grip. A low groan escapes the Tarnished's lips, their hips bucking slightly as she strokes them, her movements slow and deliberate, each glide of her hand stoking the fire in their veins. "Mmm," she hums softly, her lips grazing their jaw, the sound vibrating through their chest. Her thumb brushes over the sensitive tip, slick with precum, and she lets out a quiet, approving sigh, her own breath growing uneven.
The Tarnished reaches for her, hands finding the curve of her hips, but she catches their wrists, pinning them gently to the ground with surprising strength. "Patience," she chides, her voice a mix of command and tease, her sealed eye seeming to glint in the firelight. She shifts, guiding their cock to her entrance, the heat of her pussy radiating through the thin fabric of her attire. With a slow, deliberate motion, she sinks onto them, her tight warmth enveloping their length inch by agonizing inch. A soft moan escapes her, her lips parting as her head tilts back, auburn hair spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of embers. The Tarnished gasps, their hips twitching upward, desperate to bury themselves deeper.
Melina's movements are slow at first, a rhythmic grind that sends sparks of pleasure through both of them. Her breasts bounce slightly with each motion, the nipples hardening beneath the fabric, begging to be touched. The Tarnished's hands break free, roaming up her sides to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks. She gasps, a soft "Ahh!" escaping her as her pace quickens, her hips rolling with a primal urgency. The wet slap of their bodies fills the air, mingling with the crackle of the fire, and the Tarnished feels their balls tighten, the pressure building as Melina's pussy clenches around them, her inner walls pulsing with each thrust.
Her hands grip their shoulders, nails digging into their skin through the gloves, and she leans forward, her lips crashing against theirs in a fierce, hungry kiss. Her tongue dances with theirs, tasting of ash and something sweeter, and the Tarnished groans into her mouth, their hands sliding down to grip her ass, guiding her harder onto their cock. "Yes… like that," she pants, her voice breaking into a needy whimper, her composure unraveling as pleasure overtakes her. The Tarnished thrusts upward, their cock hitting deep, brushing against her cervix with each powerful stroke, and Melina's moans grow louder, her body trembling as she nears her peak.