Beneath the Armour: An Elven Desire

Chapter 4

As the sun set over the horizon and the stars began to shine. They finally arrived at Woodpine. The town was a modest, bustling settlement with a cozy charm that belied its size. Nestled in a valley, the town was framed by gently rolling hills and a patchwork of farmland that stretched into the distance.

The cobbled streets, though uneven and interspersed with patches of dirt, wound their way through the heart of the town like veins. The clip-clop of their horses' hooves echoed softly as they crossed a quaint stone bridge, which arched gracefully over a slow-moving stream. The water below glimmered with the last light of the day, adding a serene touch to the lively atmosphere.

On one side of the street stood an inviting inn, its wooden sign gently swaying in the evening breeze. Warm light spilled from its windows, and the hum of conversation and laughter suggested a welcoming respite for weary travelers. Adjacent to the inn was a bustling stable, where horses nickered softly, and stable hands moved with practiced efficiency.

Across the way, a brothel discreetly advertised its presence with a subtle, red lantern hanging by the door. The building was well-kept, with flower boxes under the windows, hinting at an unexpected touch of domesticity.

The town was dotted with about forty houses, each unique in its construction but unified by a sense of community. Some were simple cottages, while others were more elaborate, with neatly tended gardens and climbing ivy. Small shops lined the main street, their shutters now closed for the night, promising a variety of goods and services when morning came.

Two pubs flanked the main thoroughfare, their doors wide open and spilling raucous laughter and the scent of ale into the street. Groups of drunken patrons staggered outside, singing bawdy songs and exchanging hearty slaps on the back.

In the distance, the dark shapes of barns and silos stood as silent sentinels over the farmlands, where rows of crops swayed gently in the evening breeze. The town of Woodpine, though modest in size, was alive with the spirit of its residents, offering a warm and welcoming haven for those who passed through.

The inn, known as "The Whispering Pines," was a charming structure that exuded warmth and hospitality. Its exterior was constructed from sturdy timber, weathered by years but well maintained, giving it a rustic yet welcoming appearance. As Fay followed Drake inside, she was greeted by the comforting aroma of baked bread and herbs, mingling with the subtle scent of aged wood. The common area was cozy, with a large stone fireplace crackling merrily, casting dancing shadows across the room. Wooden beams ran across the ceiling, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting serene forest scenes and ancient battles.

An elderly lady, adorned with wrinkles and a kind smile, widened with surprise as they entered. "Commander, we weren't expecting your presence in our town."

Drake gave the woman a rare, genuine smile. "We didn't plan to be coming this way but fell behind on our schedule. The men wouldn't mind a comfortable bed this evening if you have the room. We would need to cover for twenty-five."

The woman's eyes widened. "Why, of course. Lucky we are quite empty tonight. We can fit four to a room, so seven should be sufficient. That will give you and your lady a room to yourselves," she grinned happily at them.

Fay felt her cheeks redden and dropped her head. "How lucky," Drake confirmed, causing Fay's heart to skyrocket at his lack of rejecting the idea. Drake dropped a medium-sized bag on the desk.

"Oh no, don't worry about payment, you serve our realm and protect us," the lady gushed.

Drake shook his head gently, raising his hands in front of him. "After my lot have been through here, I doubt that will be enough," he jested.

The lady laughed and ended up accepting the bag. "Your rooms are on the second floor."

Drake nodded, taking the keys and walking back outside, Fay a few steps behind. A few of his men lingered outside, awaiting dismissal. "Men, we have seven rooms, four to a room. Pick your group and don't lose your keys. And don't make a mess of the joint either," Drake commanded, tossing six keys into the air.

Come, let's get you settled in," he said to Fey, walking back into the inn and up the stairs to their room. As they climbed, the wooden steps creaked under their boots, adding to the rustic charm of the place.

Drake opened the door and stepped aside to let Fey enter first. The room was a testament to the inn's rustic charm. The wooden walls were polished to a soft sheen, and the floorboards creaked slightly underfoot, adding to the cozy, lived-in feel. A large bed dominated one side of the room, its frame carved from dark oak and draped with a thick, patchwork quilt that looked both warm and inviting. The bed was clearly made for comfort, with plush pillows stacked at the head.

Next to the large bed was a smaller, single bed, similarly adorned but more modest in size. It stood against the far wall, under a small window that looked out over the town. The curtains, made of simple linen, were tied back to allow the evening breeze to drift in, bringing with it the faint sounds of laughter and music from the pubs below.

Fey looked around, trying to hide her nervousness. "It's a lovely room," she said softly.

Drake nodded in agreement. "It is. A good place to rest after a long journey."

A sturdy wooden dresser stood against one wall, its surface cluttered with a few candles, a washbasin, and a pitcher of water. There was also a small writing desk and chair, positioned near the window, offering a quiet spot for reflection or correspondence. A simple rug lay in the center of the room, adding a touch of warmth to the wooden floor.

Fey hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "I'll take the smaller bed."

Drake nodded, removing his sword and some of the leather armor he wore, dropping them onto the larger bed. "Do you know what a bathroom is, Fey? Shower, toilet?" he inquired, amused as he saw a frown of anger cross her face.

"Of course I do. Just because I'm an Elf doesn't make me barbaric," Fey growled, although it sounded more like a kitten trying to sound ferocious.

Drake grinned. "Enjoy the warmth; it's a treasure when you're on the road. Are you hungry? I'll get Mrs. Pound, the innkeeper, to bring something up if you like?"

Fey frowned. "Where are you going?"

Drake scratched the back of his neck as a sudden wave of guilt and shame washed through him. "I'm a male, Fey," he muttered, unable to word it any differently.

Fey's face twisted cutely in confusion, making Drake groan in his head as his blood began to come alive. What was it about this Elf that set him alight? A simple facial expression should not put him on edge as it did. Maybe it was the lack of release.

"I'm very aware of you being a male. That doesn't explain where..." Fey's voice faded off as her face colored, realizing what he was trying to say.

"Stay here. I'll be back later tonight," Drake said, making his way to the door.

"Why can't I come?" Fey's voice was timid, tiny.

Drake swallowed the lump of anger and frustration that was beginning to surface in him. His body was hungry for pleasure, for release, even if the source wasn't what it truly wanted. Something was better than nothing. "Because a brothel is no place for a woman," Drake's tone was firm.

Fey stepped forward, making Drake turn slightly to look at her. "That doesn't make any sense if women work there?" Fey continued firmly, her eyes swimming with questions, curiosity, desire?

Drake growled lowly, "Fey, it's no place for someone naive and innocent like you."

Fey's eyes began to tear up as her emotions started building. She didn't want to be naive and innocent. She was beginning to understand her life in the forest was a lie. Everything she knew was a fabrication, altered truth, and she had stood by it wholeheartedly. She cast her doubts aside even when she had witnessed two elves in her youth, classmates engaging in the bonding act, and nothing befell them. If anything, they were higher in her society. "Maybe I don't want to be innocent and naive," Fey stated firmly, her voice wavering a little.

Drake's eyes darkened as his body was engulfed in red-hot flames. His hand clenched the doorknob, his last bit of control hanging by a thread. Fey stood there, hands on hips, eyes ablaze, lips lightly parted. He desired her something fierce. He wanted to make her regret those words, take her right here until morning, so every bump on the horse would make her ache. He shut his eyes and shook his head, riding the thought as his erection throbbed from the vision.

"You will not leave this room. Are we clear, or you will be punished," Drake ordered.

Fey went to speak again, but Drake interrupted, "Are we clear?" he boomed.

Fey jumped, her face twisting with fright, before nodding.

Drake's heart clenched at the sight of her befallen face but knew it was the right thing to do. She deserved better than him and better than anything here in this town. "Good. I'll send something up. See you later tonight." He swiftly exited the room, a large huff leaving him.

On his exit, Fey sank down onto her bed as tears streamed down her cheeks. She glanced down at her binds; she was a prisoner. She had to stop forgetting that.

Drake stormed down the dimly lit corridors of the inn, each step resonating with the weight of his internal struggle. The echoes of his boots against the wooden floorboards mirrored the tumult in his mind. He had left Fey behind, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. She was too pure, too innocent for the world he was about to step into. The mere thought of her stepping foot inside a brothel sent a surge of protective anger through him.

The brothel was located on the outskirts of town, a place veiled in secrecy and shadows. As Drake approached, the familiar scent of cheap perfume and the murmur of hushed conversations reached his senses. He pushed open the heavy, creaking door, and the warm, dimly lit interior enveloped him. Women of various shapes, sizes, and races lounged seductively, casting inviting glances towards him.

Madame Liora, the brothel's matron, a tall, voluptuous woman with auburn hair and piercing green eyes, spotted Drake immediately. She sashayed over, her hips swaying in a manner that drew the attention of every man in the room.

"Commander," she purred, her voice a sultry melody. "It's been a while. What brings you here tonight?"

Drake forced a smile, though his mind was elsewhere. "The road is long, men have needs."

Liora's eyes sparkled. She had seen many men like Drake, warriors with burdens too heavy to bear alone. She nodded, taking his hand and leading him through the maze of velvet curtains and dimly lit alcoves.

She stopped at a room at the end of the hallway, pushing the door open to reveal a lavishly decorated chamber. Silk sheets, plush cushions, and the faint aroma of incense created an atmosphere of opulence and temptation.

"I'll send someone in," Liora said softly, her hand lingering on his arm for a moment before she left.

Drake sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts still on Fey. Her tear-streaked face haunted him, making him question his decision to come here. But as the door opened and a young woman entered, he forced himself to focus on the present. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and eyes that seemed to pierce through him.

"Hello, I'm River," she introduced herself, her voice gentle but confident.

Drake nodded, not trusting himself to speak. River approached him slowly, her hands reaching out to touch his shoulders, her fingers trailing down his arms.

"You're tense," she observed, her touch sending shivers down his spine. "Let me help you relax."

Drake closed his eyes, surrendering to the moment. He needed to forget, even just for a little while. River's hands worked their magic, easing the tension from his muscles, her touch both soothing and electrifying. She pressed closer, her lips grazing his neck, her breath warm against his skin.

As the night wore on, River's touch became more insistent, her hands exploring his body with practiced ease. Drake allowed himself to be swept away by the sensations, his mind temporarily freed from the burdens he carried. River's lips travelled his body, though never met his lips per Drake's orders, their bodies entwining in a dance as old as time.

The hours passed in a blur of heated passion and fleeting moments of connection. River's touch, her warmth, her whispered words, all served to drown out the turmoil in his mind. For a few fleeting hours, he managed to escape the reality of his situation.

But as their time came to an end, reality came crashing back. Drake dressed silently, leaving a generous amount of coin on the bedside table. River watched him, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

"Hope to see you again, Commander," she said softly as he turned to leave.

Drake nodded, unable to find the words to respond. He exited the brothel, the night air cool against his skin. As he made his way back to the inn, his thoughts were once again consumed by Fay. He had to find a way to keep her safe, to protect her from the harsh realities of the world.

He entered the inn quietly, making his way back to the room where he had left Fay. Opening the door softly, he found her asleep on her bed, her face peaceful despite the tear stains on her cheeks.

Drake's heart clenched at the sight. He knelt beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, more to himself than to her. He knew he had to find a way to protect her, even if it meant keeping her at a distance. He felt the tug of desire beginning to stir within him again. But for now, it was something he could ignore.