Cursed Devourer

For the first time since meeting her, Malik actually took a moment to appreciate Marithia's beauty.

He had always known she was attractive—anyone with eyes could see it—but he had never really studied her before.

Her delicate features were framed by long, golden hair that cascaded down her shoulders, her skin was flawless, the soft glow of the lanterns highlighting every elegant curve of her face. But it was her eyes that truly captivated—deep emerald, sharp yet alluring, filled with both intelligence and untamed spirit.

Then, of course, there was her body—one sculpted for battle yet undeniably feminine. The golden armor she wore earlier had hidden much, but here, in the dim tavern light, she was dressed in something lighter. The fitted tunic clung to her form, outlining full curves, toned legs, and a narrow waist that only made the rest of her more enticing.

Malik felt something unfamiliar flicker inside him. Appreciation.

And the moment his gaze softened, the atmosphere shifted.

Because Marithia was doing the same.

Despite the hood Malik wore, enough of his sharp, impossibly symmetrical face was visible, and she was studying him as well.

His skin was smooth yet marked by a presence far beyond his apparent youth, his lips slightly curled in his usual smirk, but this time with less arrogance.

But it was his eyes that mesmerized her most.

Ever-changing.

Ever-shifting.

A thousand colors swirling like living galaxies behind them, as if he held an entire universe within his gaze.

For a moment, the tavern's noise faded into the background.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Kairo, for once, didn't comment.

Malik finally broke the silence, his voice smooth, unreadable.

"I'll answer your question," he said, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his drink. "If you answer mine first."

Marithia arched a brow, intrigued. "And what question would that be?"

Malik turned to her fully, his gaze intense yet relaxed.

"Why would a princess run away to become a mercenary?"

Her breath caught for just a second, but she masked it quickly.

Marithia leaned back in her chair, tilting her head slightly, her green eyes searching his own.

"You must have heard Laenor," she mused. "Or were you always this perceptive?"

Malik smirked. "I'm always perceptive."

She let out a soft breath, a faint chuckle escaping. "Fair enough."

There was a brief pause as she considered how much to tell him. Then, after another sip of her drink, she spoke.

"I never ran," she said. "I chose this."

Malik raised an eyebrow, intrigued but silent.

"My father is the King of Althera, the ruling nation of the High Elves," she continued. "Laenor is a prince of one of our neighboring elven kingdoms. He asked for my hand—our marriage would have strengthened the alliance."

Malik hummed in thought. "But you weren't interested."

Marithia gave him a pointed look. "I had no interest in playing the role of a docile royal."

Her fingers tapped lightly against the wooden table. "I had the talent to be a warrior. The mind to be a strategist. I trained with our best, and I wanted more. I wanted to see the world outside of velvet halls and diplomatic games. So I left and became what I wanted to be."

Malik chuckled, swirling his drink. "And now you're here, leading mercenaries."

She met his gaze. "And you? Still going to claim you were 'asleep' for a long time?"

Malik smirked but held her stare, the weight of something unreadable behind his gaze.

"I was asleep," he murmured, but there was something in the way he said it—a half-truth, a veil of mystery he had no intention of fully revealing.

Marithia studied him, sensing that he was lying about something.

But she didn't push.

Instead, she leaned forward slightly. "And now that you're awake?"

Malik smirked, tilting his head. "I plan to enjoy life and grow stronger. That's enough for now."

She held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding in understanding.

And just like that, the tension between them shifted.

It was still there, but it had changed—no longer cautious, no longer defensive.

It was something else entirely.

Malik leaned back, stretching slightly. "So," he mused, "what do you plan to do tonight?"

Marithia blinked at the abrupt question. "I'm not sure yet," she admitted, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Malik studied her for a moment. "Are you really going to pretend you don't want to ask me something?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Are you really going to pretend you have enough money for a room?"

Malik grinned.

She wasn't wrong.

Marithia exhaled, rolling her eyes. "I have a spare room at the place I'm staying. If you need somewhere for the night."

She tried to sound casual, but the slight hesitation in her voice was impossible to ignore.

Malik considered her offer, tapping his fingers against the wood. He didn't need to stay anywhere specific—he could simply find another alley, or even grow wings and leave the city entirely.

But for some reason…

He found himself curious.

"Alright, princess," he murmured. "Lead the way."

Her face turned slightly red, but she quickly masked it, finishing the last of her drink before standing.

Malik stood as well, and together, they stepped into the cool night air—unspoken questions still lingering between them.

The cool night air wrapped around them as they left the tavern, the once-lively streets now quieter, filled with the flickering glow of street lanterns and the distant murmur of late-night travelers. Malik walked beside Marithia, his hood still drawn over his face, but his sharp gaze flickered toward her from time to time.

The silence between them was thick—not uncomfortable, but charged, like a wire pulled taut, waiting for the slightest touch to snap.

Marithia pretended to be unaffected, her expression calm, her posture composed. But the way she occasionally brushed her fingers through her hair, the way her breath hitched slightly whenever he got too close—Malik noticed all of it.

They felt it.

Each step, each glance, each breath fanned the embers of something neither had intended.

Malik, ever composed, cast a sidelong glance at Marithia, watching the way her golden hair caught the moonlight, the way her form moved with a mixture of grace and unspoken anticipation.

For someone so strong, so commanding in battle, she looked almost… uncertain now.

Malik's lips curled into a slight smirk. How cute.

"Still here, Kairo?" he asked inwardly.

"Yes, but don't worry about me," Kairo murmured. "I'll be sleeping. I wouldn't want to disturb the young while they… have fun."

Malik blinked, actually caught off guard.

"You sleep?" he muttered aloud.

Marithia turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Malik said quickly, shaking his head, a rare moment of surprise flashing through him.

"Yes, I sleep," Kairo continued, amused by Malik's reaction. "I may not have a body right now, but I still need to rest my soul. Enjoy yourself, partner."

Then, silence.

Kairo was gone.

Malik exhaled through his nose. He wasn't sure why that unsettled him. He had assumed Kairo was always watching, always aware—but apparently, even the dragon needed rest.

Which meant he was alone with Marithia.

Truly alone.

And suddenly, that tension became even more pronounced.

...

When they finally reached her residence, it was a quiet, well-kept townhouse, a temporary place mercenaries used when they needed to stay in the city. It wasn't luxurious, but it was comfortable, standing along a quieter street away from the main roads.

Marithia stepped forward, unlocking the door before glancing at him over her shoulder.

"Well?" she said, her voice lightly teasing, yet a bit shy. "Are you coming in, or are you going to stand out there all night?"

Malik smirked. "If you insist."

He followed her inside.

The door shut behind them, leaving only the warm glow of lanterns casting soft golden hues across the small but cozy interior.

Marithia set down her belongings, taking a slow breath before turning to face him.

Malik leaned casually against the wall, watching her.

For the first time, there was no one else around. No mercenaries, no obligations, no battles to fight. Just the two of them, alone.

Marithia crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "You don't talk much about yourself."

Malik chuckled. "Neither do you."

She smiled faintly, then took a step closer, eyes flickering over him. "You really don't have anywhere else to stay?"

Malik smirked. "No money, remember?"

She huffed a soft laugh. "Right. No money, no plan. Just passing through."

"Something like that."

A pause.

A silence stretched between them, thick, charged.

Malik could hear her breath quicken slightly, see the way her fingers twitched at her sides, like she was debating whether to move or not.

"You're staring," he murmured.

Her green eyes snapped up to meet his. "So are you."

Another pause.

Then, she licked her lips and smirked softly, attempting to mask her shyness with teasing. "Do you want to share my bed too, then?"

Malik's smirk vanished for a second—not in shock, but in undeniable amusement.

He took a step forward, closing the space between them, his towering presence suddenly looming over her, his hood vanishing with a thought.

He could see it now—the slight nervousness, the way she inhaled deeply, but still held her ground.

He liked that.

His voice dropped lower, smooth as silk. "If you're offering."

Her breath caught.

Her bravado faltered for just a second.

Then—they moved.

Malik's hands were firm, demanding but controlled as he caught her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Marithia let out a sharp inhale, her hands instinctively pressing against his broad chest, feeling the warmth of him through his robes.

For a brief moment, she froze, as if shocked by her own actions.

Malik tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing over her hip. "Second thoughts?"

She swallowed, her cheeks burning, but her hands didn't push him away. Instead, her fingers slowly curled into his robes, gripping the fabric.

"…No."

That was all he needed to hear.

His lips crashed into hers, the kiss fierce and consuming, an unspoken battle of dominance and surrender.

Marithia melted against him, her breath hitching as Malik's lips moved hungrily against hers, their bodies pressing together with an undeniable heat. The tension that had been building between them—unspoken, simmering beneath every glance, every teasing remark—finally snapped.

His hands traced along the curves of her waist, his touch sending shivers across her skin. He reached downwards and grasped her by her thick, yet toned rear, his fingers deforming the sponge-like flesh as he pulled her in even tighter.

Marithia squealed in surprise, but quickly wrapped her slender legs around his waist, her breath becoming heavier. Her fingers curled into his robe, pulling him closer, as if afraid he might disappear if she let go.

Malik smirked against her lips, feeling the way she trembled slightly beneath his touch. She was usually so composed, so in control—but now? Now, she was unraveling.

Their movements grew more frantic, more desperate. Malik's fingers found the laces of her tunic, pulling them free with a practiced ease. Marithia inhaled sharply as the fabric slipped from her shoulders, revealing the smooth expanse of skin beneath.

Malik pulled back slightly, his gaze trailing over her with open appreciation. His eyes swallowed the sight of her two perfectly symmetrical mounds, accompanied by pink peaks that only further boosted his desire to explore every inch of her body.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with something deeper than just admiration.

Marithia's face burned, but instead of retreating, she lifted her chin slightly. "I could say the same to you," she whispered, her fingers already moving to undo his robe.

Her hands were steady, yet he could feel the way her breath quickened, the way her pulse raced beneath his touch. Malik let her pull the garment away, revealing the sculpted lines of his torso, the warmth of his skin against the cool air. He could've just shifted, but allowed her this at least.

For a moment, Marithia simply stared, her fingers lightly tracing over the firm ridges of muscle, as if trying to memorize every inch of him.

Malik chuckled, catching her chin between his fingers, tilting her face back up to meet his gaze.

"Enjoying the view?"

She exhaled a soft laugh, but her cheeks remained flushed. "Maybe."

His smirk deepened. "Good."

He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the soft, inviting bed, his movements slow, deliberate. He wasn't in a rush—this moment was theirs, and he intended to enjoy every second of it.

Marithia let out a small gasp as her back met the cool sheets, her golden hair splaying out around her. She reached for him instinctively, fingers curling around his wrist, guiding him down toward her.

Their lips met again, this time softer, deeper, the urgency momentarily replaced by something more intimate. Their hands explored, learning each other's touch, the warmth between them growing with every passing second.

Malik felt his lower region throb with hunger, a deep desire to nestle inside her. His breath quickened in tandem with his heartbeat, and Marithia noticed.

"Mmmm~"

A soft, pleasured moan escaped her lips, her legs pulling him tighter so that his weapon rubbed against her now soaked entrance.

Malik met her gaze and what he saw shocked him. Pure desire. A lust that was begging for his embrace.

And he didn't refuse.

Removing his hand from roaming her seductive body, he shifted and his trousers vanished completely, his large tool now on full display, the tip oozing from anticipation. 

Marithia gulped at the sight. 

"Will that fit?" She blurted out, her voice barely a whisper.

Malik chuckled in response, "I can make it smaller if you'd like."

"NO!" She screamed, surprising both Malik and herself, her face growing an even deeper shade of red.

"Okay 'princess', if you say so." Malik replied, slowly pulling down her underwear, revealing her pink cave.

For a moment he forgot to breathe.

"So this is what it looks like." He muttered internally, his eyes tracing the pink folds, the clear juices trickling down, the small hole that contracted at his every touch. For this to be his first time he was pleasantly surprised, and not in the slightest regretful that he chose to share this moment with Marithia of all people.

Marithia was in a similar position and hadn't taken her eyes off his erect member. "I can't believe I'm giving him my first time like this…But I'm also so glad it's him."

She reached out and gently wrapped her fingers around it, guiding the pulsating organ to the entry between her legs.

A brief moment where neither spoke took place, just their thumping heartbeats filling the silence. Malik wanted to put it in, but he savored every second, secretly afraid that it was just a dream.

Until— 

Marithia spoke.

"Fuck me."

Her voice was commanding. It wasn't a request. It was an order.

Malik's eyes glowed with something primal and he fulfilled her wish. 

At first just the tip slipped inside, both of them twitching as he pushed the first inch in, but Malik couldn't hold back anymore and he thrusted deep, his thighs slapping against hers.

"Mmmm~ Yes!" Marithia groaned as her insides squeezed tighter around his cock.

Malik was drowned in pleasure, his mind blank. He pulled back and went again, building up a rhythm that only allowed the both of them to formulate pleasured breaths between strokes.

Marithia's nails dug into the skin of his back, clawing trails into his defined muscles and flesh as he sped up the tempo. Malik could've easily stopped her, but it only aroused him further.

Lost in a feeling he had instantly become addicted to, Malik focused solely on Marithia. Her every reaction, the twitches, the moans, the ragged breaths, and it all turned him on, pushing him to become more aggressive whilst still trying to be gentle enough to not hurt her delicate body.

Marithia wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled herself to his ear.

"Cum inside me." She purred seductively, her eyes glazed with obsession.

Malik felt his nether region twitch in excitement, the tightening, fleshy walls desperately trying to squeeze him dry. He withstood its temptation and continued his movements.

His mouth found her lips and he pumped deeper, harder, every thrust shaking the foundations of the bed. Time seemed to flow untracked, both of them lost in the passionate session of intercourse.

Until he could no longer hold it back.

With a deep groan, Malik ejaculated, drilling as deep as he possibly could, his tip rubbing against her uterus as it pumped her full of semen.

Marithia's eyes rolled back and she screamed in ecstasy, her legs shaking as she orgasmed in sync.

Their lips met again and they shared another passionate kiss, tongues battling and swapping saliva. 

They parted for air and Malik retracted his weapon from her insides, the tightness clinging to him like it wanted to savour every last drop. With a wet slick it popped out, dripping in a mixture of both their liquids, still standing fully erect.

A few seconds passed and they both understood each-others intentions.

They weren't finished.

Marithia grabbed Malik by the shoulders and flipped their positions in one fluid motion. He didn't resist.

She now sat atop him, her wet cave enticing his erect weapon for a second round.

"This time, I get to lead." Marithia smiled, leaning forward and planting another kiss on his lips, her breasts squishing against his bare chest.

For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply feel.

And as the night stretched on, they lost themselves in each other, surrendering to the moment, the heat, and the unspoken promises between them.