The forest path twisted like a serpent's spine, overgrown with vines that snagged at Nymphadora's boots as she trudged alongside Vidarr. Their quest had dragged them through mist-shrouded valleys for days, chasing rumors of an ancient relic said to mend shattered alliances in the fractured kingdoms. Nymphadora, with her wild tangle of auburn hair and eyes that flickered like embers, had been Vidarr's reluctant companion since he'd pulled her from the ruins of a raided village. Vidarr, clad in weathered leather armor and a helmet that shadowed his face, moved with the silent grace of a predator, his broad shoulders cutting through the underbrush.
The air hummed with the distant roar of water, growing louder until the trees parted to reveal a cascading waterfall spilling into a crystalline pool. Sunlight fractured through the spray, turning droplets into fleeting jewels. Nymphadora paused, her breath catching at the sight. The pool looked inviting, a rare pocket of calm amid their endless march. "I'm going to... freshen up," she muttered to Vidarr, who nodded without a word, his helmeted gaze fixed on the map in his gloved hand.
She slipped away from the path, weaving through ferns until the waterfall's thunder masked her steps. The pull of the water was irresistible; it whispered promises of release from the grime of travel. Nymphadora glanced back—no sign of Vidarr. With quick, fumbling hands, she stripped off her leafy dress, woven from enchanted fibers that mimicked foliage for camouflage. It pooled at her feet, leaving her bare skin prickling in the cool air. Her body was lithe and scarred, marked by the years of captivity that had honed her into something feral yet fragile. She waded into the pool, the water enveloping her like a lover's grasp, cool and insistent against her breasts and the curve of her hips. Floating on her back, she let the current carry her, eyes closed, the tension in her muscles unraveling for the first time in weeks.
Vidarr marked time by the sun's arc, fifteen minutes slipping by as he scanned their route. Nymphadora's absence gnawed at him; she was prone to wandering, her ditsy impulses clashing with the sharp instincts of survival. He followed the faint trail she'd left, boots crunching over moss until the pool came into view. There she was, drifting lazily, her form half-submerged. From this angle, the water's ripples hid the details—her nakedness didn't register at first. Relief washed over him, then sharpened into alarm as she turned, her pale skin gleaming unbroken by fabric.
"By the gods, Nymphadora! Put on your clothes!" Vidarr's voice boomed, rough with shock, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword as if propriety were a threat.
Nymphadora's eyes snapped open, her face flushing crimson. She flailed in the water, splashing as she scrambled toward the shallows. "Vidarr! Close your eyes!" she squeaked, her voice a shy stammer that betrayed the wildness he knew so well. Water streamed from her body as she emerged, droplets tracing paths down her thighs and over the soft mound of her pussy, now exposed to the forest air. She tiptoed across the slick rocks, arms crossed over her chest, her ass cheeks flexing with each hurried step toward the pile of clothes.
Vidarr averted his gaze, but curiosity—and something darker—pulled him forward. He melted into the shadows of a nearby thicket, his movements silent, tracking her like prey. Peering through the leaves, he watched as Nymphadora snatched up her dress, her back to him. She bent slightly, one leg lifting to step into the fabric, giving him a clear view of her pussy lips, pink and slightly parted from the chill. Her breasts swayed as she tugged the dress upward, nipples hardening in the breeze. Vidarr's breath hitched; he'd seen her feral side in battles, all snarls and swift strikes, but this—vulnerable, flushed, unaware—stirred a heat in his groin. His cock twitched against the confines of his trousers, thickening as he imagined the water's touch on her skin mirroring his own hands.
She fumbled with the ties, her fingers clumsy in her haste, the dress clinging damply to her curves. A strand of hair stuck to her neck, and she swore under her breath, a soft "fuck" that made Vidarr's pulse race. He'd never seen her like this, stripped of armor and attitude, just a woman piecing herself back together. Awe twisted with arousal, his hand pressing against the growing bulge in his pants, fighting the urge to step out.
Finally dressed, Nymphadora smoothed the fabric over her hips and stepped into the open patch of forest ahead. It was almost meadow-like, sunlight dappling the grass in golden patches, wildflowers nodding in the wind. She scanned the trees, heart still pounding. "Um... Vidarr?" she called, her voice tentative, laced with embarrassment.
To her surprise, he dropped from a nearby oak, landing on his feet with feline precision, his armor creaking softly. "My lady?" Vidarr replied, his tone uncharacteristically soft, stripped of its usual gruff edge. He met her eyes, the helmet hiding any flicker of what he'd witnessed.
Nymphadora blinked, caught off guard by the gentleness. They walked back to the pool in uneasy silence, the waterfall's roar filling the gaps. At the edge, they kicked off their boots, the cool water lapping at their toes as they sat on a flat rock. Vidarr dipped his feet in, the sensation grounding him after the voyeuristic thrill. He turned to her, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "Why are you always so angry?"
Nymphadora's breathing hitched, her chest rising sharply. She stared at the helmeted man beside her, the mystery of his hidden face igniting a spark low in her belly. What did he look like under there? Strong jaw, perhaps, or eyes that pierced like arrows? The thought made her thighs clench, arousal warring with the pain his question unearthed. Memories flooded back—her parents' screams in the raid, the chains of her ten-year captivity, the endless fight to reclaim her fire. "I haven't had an easy life," she whispered, voice barely audible over the water. "My parents are dead. I was captured for ten years. I'm not angry... I'm protecting myself."
The words hit Vidarr like a blade to the gut. Sorrow twisted in his chest, deeper than he'd expected. "Oh. I... I didn't know." His voice cracked, raw with empathy. Without thinking, he reached out, placing a large, callused hand on her thigh. The contact was electric—her skin warm through the thin dress, sending a jolt straight to his cock. It hardened instantly, straining against his laces, the ache insistent.
Nymphadora froze, then moved before her mind could catch up. She swung a leg over him, climbing into his lap with a boldness that surprised them both. Her pussy pressed against the bulge in his trousers, the friction making her gasp. "Vidarr," she murmured, hands fumbling at his helmet. He didn't stop her; instead, his fingers hooked into the neckline of her leafy dress, yanking it down in one swift motion. The fabric tore slightly, exposing her breasts, nipples pebbling in the open air.
She lifted the helmet free, revealing him: sharp features framed by dark, sweat-damp hair, eyes a stormy gray that locked onto hers with hunger. A scar traced his jaw, adding to the rugged allure. The sight fueled her arousal; her thighs grew slick, juices seeping from her pussy, soaking through her undergarments onto his lap. Vidarr groaned, the sound primal, his cock throbbing as he drank in her naked form—full breasts heaving, the flush creeping down her neck.
"You're beautiful," he growled, hands roaming her sides, thumbs brushing her nipples. Nymphadora arched into his touch, her own hands exploring his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath his armor. She ground against him, the pressure on her clit sending sparks through her core.
Vidarr's patience snapped. He spun her around in a fluid motion, laying her back on the soft grass beside the pool. The earth was cool and yielding under her, a stark contrast to the heat building between them. His fingers worked at his laced trousers, undoing them with practiced ease. His cock sprang free—thick, veined, the head already glistening with pre-cum. It bobbed heavily, nine inches of rigid need, promising to stretch her just right.
Nymphadora's eyes widened, her pussy clenching in anticipation. She spread her legs, fingers dipping between her folds to spread her wetness, inviting him. Without another word, Vidarr positioned himself, the tip nudging her entrance. He slammed in with one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Her walls gripped him like a vice, hot and slick, drawing a guttural "shit" from his lips. Nymphadora cried out, the fullness overwhelming, his thickness hitting spots that made her vision blur.
He set a relentless pace, hips snapping forward, each thrust driving deeper. The slap of skin on skin echoed over the waterfall's roar, her juices coating his shaft, easing the way. Vidarr's hands pinned her wrists above her head, his mouth claiming her neck, sucking marks into her skin. Nymphadora bucked beneath him, meeting every plunge, her clit grinding against his pubic bone. "Harder," she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders when he released her hands.
Sweat slicked their bodies, the air thick with the scent of sex—musky and raw. Vidarr's balls tightened as he felt her pussy flutter, the first waves of her orgasm building. He angled his hips, the head of his cock dragging against her G-spot, making her moan louder. After what felt like an eternity of pounding, her body tensed, and she shattered around him, walls pulsing, milking his length as she came with a shuddering cry.
But Vidarr wasn't done. With a growl, he flipped her over onto her hands and knees, the grass tickling her palms. Nymphadora, fueled by the aftershocks, pushed back against him, taking control. She straddled him reverse, sinking down onto his cock with a feral hiss. Riding him like a wild thing unleashed, her ass bounced with each descent, cheeks spreading to reveal the tight pucker above where he filled her pussy. Vidarr's hands gripped her hips, guiding her, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as she ground down, her juices dripping onto his balls.
"Yes," he grunted, watching her breasts swing, the sight pushing him closer to the edge. Nymphadora's movements grew erratic, her second climax coiling tight. Suddenly, she lifted off him, her pussy clenching around nothing, and bolted upright. With a playful laugh—ditsy and teasing—she darted into the trees, naked and glistening, her ass flashing in the dappled light.
"Get back here, you're mine," Vidarr roared, springing up, cock still hard and slick with her arousal. He chased her, the hunt igniting something primal. Branches whipped past as he gained on her, tackling her gently against a massive oak. The bark was rough against her back, but she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him close.
Vidarr hoisted her up effortlessly, her thighs locking around his waist. He pinned her there, thrusting back into her pussy with a force that made her head loll back. "Mine," he repeated, pounding hard, the tree shaking with each impact. Nymphadora's nails raked his back, then she bit down on his shoulder—hard enough to draw a bead of blood, marking him as hers. The pain tipped him over; Vidarr buried himself deep, cock pulsing as he came, hot spurts flooding her tight pussy, filling her with his seed.
She followed instantly, orgasming around him, her walls squeezing every drop, a gush of her own wetness mixing with his cum, trickling down her thighs in a creamy mess. They stayed locked like that, breaths ragged, bodies trembling against the tree.
Slowly, Vidarr lowered her to the ground, their bodies still joined for a moment before he slipped free, a trail of their combined fluids leaking from her. They collapsed into the grass, cuddling close, his arm draped over her waist, her head on his chest. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the waterfall a distant lullaby.
After a beat, Vidarr traced a finger along her spine, voice husky. "We should finish that naked swim. Properly this time—no interruptions."
Nymphadora smiled, shy but sated, and nodded. Hand in hand, they stripped what remained of their clothes and waded back into the pool, bodies entwined under the cascading water, the quest forgotten for one perfect, slippery interlude.