Trelkor rubbed his temple. He have had a headache for the past two days. He couldn't show weakness to his crew, lest they lose hope. The Imperial Navy had been hounding them the last few days, at-least that's what the spy on the Imperial ship had told the Alliance. Had his warp drive not been restored, they would all be space-dust by now. If he didn't lose them by the time they reached Fria, the mission would be a failure. He couldn't outgun a light cruiser in his frigate. He let out a slight growl of frustration at his predicament. “Ops. Bring up a chart of our immediate surroundings on the projector.” He ordered with his rusty voice. The reply came promptly, and the projector flickered into life, showing nearby celestial phenomena and their relative position to the Reckless. A small nebula 4 light years away caught Trelkor's eye.
“What's the composition of that nebula?” He half-way glanced at the ops officer, a human male, keeping his eyes fixed on the projector. “Hydrogen, ionized helium, ionized nitrogen and doubly ionized oxygen. Neutron radiation from the white dwarf at the center of it, but this data is centuries old. We can't get an accurate scan.” Sighing, Trelkor closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. Neutron radiation tended to fry sensors and block scans. If we can't see them, they can't see us. “Alright. Helm, divert course to the nebula. I have a hunch we might get something out of this detour.” The two helmsmen exchanged nervous glances with each other, as did the rest of the bridge-crew. The captain didn't trust in hunches, so either something were very wrong, or he had information they didn't. “Aye aye Captain. Changing course to new bearing two, seven, five, mark one, two, zero.” Ensign Rafter responded, a male half-orc.
“We will arrive at the nebula in 2.5 days.” Rafter informed Trelkor. He nodded his assent and turned to his first officer, a female elf with flowing red hair and eyes of green. He whispered to her “I want random battle stations drills until we reach our target. I want a complete diagnostics and tuneup of our laser batteries and missile launchers.” The elf nodded. “Yes, sir.” Punching commands into her console attached to one of her armrests, Trelkor got up. “Thessalia, you have the bridge.” He said, straightening his uniform and walking briskly to his quarters adjoined to the bridge.
Sitting down in his chair, he leaned his head back. Eyes closed. He needed sleep soon. He let himself space out for a while, enjoying a quick nap. He was startled back to reality by the chime coming from his communication relay on his desk. He clicked on it, and the screen raised itself up. “Alliance HQ here. Sitrep on the mission.” asked the young man on the other end. Probably not even old enough to shave Trelkor mused to himself. “We had to divert to a nearby nebula to lose our pursuers. Add an estimated four days to completion time.” The man at the other end grimaced. “We need that man on Celis II in 7 days. We can't afford a 4 day delay.” Trelkor glared at him through his view-screen. “Well then maybe you shouldn't have sent a frigate to get this guy if he were so damn important.” He stated flatly, with barely contained anger. “That being so, proceed with all haste to the extraction point” Came the monotone reply, almost completely uncaring. Trelkor slammed his clenched fist into the table. “You listen to me right now. A frigate against a light cruiser is suicide and you know it. If I survive this, I will come back to HQ and I will break your fragile human spine across my knee.” Trelkor growled quietly, a grim scowl on his face. “I'm sorry Captain, you're going to have to take your chance with the cruiser. Godspeed. HQ out.”
The screen clicked black. Trelkor slumped in his chair. He opened a comm-line to the bridge. “This is the captain, revert course to original heading.” He closed the line with a sigh. Raising himself up from his chair, he went to his private drink cabinet and poured himself a glass of Fire's finest spirits. Swallowing it, the liquid burning in his throat and warming up his face. He sat the glass down and collapsed in his chair, the weariness of the last few days suddenly catching up with him instantly. He stared blankly ahead into the dim light of his room. Staring and thinking. He had an idea. Getting up from his stupor he strode purposefully onto the bridge. “Rafter. How close can you fly this ship to an Endeavor-class light cruiser?” The ensign swiveled in his chair, looking at his captain with a confused look. “Uh. What?” Walking to the projector, Trelkor brought up an image of an Endeavor-class “How far from the hull can you fly?” Blinking a few times, looking at the image, Rafter responded “Safely? About 10 meters.” Trelkor shook his head. “I need two meters.” Without waiting for a response he had left the ensign and was headed for engineering.
“Fire!” He called out as he barged into engineering. The entire crew stopped and looked at the captain who didn't usually show up in engineering. “I need all shields taken offline and the emitters moved to the front. I don't care if you have to tear out several decks to do it. You get it done, and you get it done ASAP. Give me a sitrep in an hour.” Fire stared at him, unsure what to make of this odd request. “That's an order Sergeant Fireli Reneard!” Fire immediately straightened her back and saluted. “Yes, sir!”
The engineering deck sprung into action as Fire started to bark out orders in incomprehensible technical jargon. Trelkor trusted she knew what she was doing. She could be flighty, but she did know her way around an engine.
***
Jericho had made his way down to the barracks on the lower decks. A brazen class frigate wasn't usually equipped with a complement of marines, usually relying on the combat training of the crew and a small security compliment to act as security in case of hostile boarding. Entering the armory, which also served as a briefing room, he was greeted by a motley assortment of peoples. Humans, orcs and elves. Seven of them. “...Sup?” A slightly overweight dark-skinned human said, eyes hidden beneath the shadow of a hat. He was reclining on a chair, feet propped up on another chair. “Uh, hey. Name's Jericho Phoenix. I'm your new combat engineer.” He waved to them, mentally slapping himself immediately afterwards for how foolish that must have looked.
“Don't mind Cormier” a female voice out of sight called to him. She entered the room, wearing a white tank-top and some digital camouflage cargo-pants, a beautiful blonde human with brown eyes and neck-long hair immediately after. “I'm Lieutenant-Commander Sascha Toly. I'm your new CO.” She shook his hand with a firm grip. “Cormier is our hacking specialist. A little moody, but knows his stuff.” She continued pointing to each of the other five people in the room, currently occupied doing something or other. “Our sniper is Trium over there” A middle-aged man nodded his assent and then went back to reading his book. “That big boy over there is Trask” A large, muscled orc walked over to Jericho and gave him a quick embrace, slapping his back. “I handle the big guns” He said with a toothy grin. Sascha continued “Our personal pilot and ace extraordinaire is Palaniel. She also handles radio-comms” She gestured towards a half-orc, half-elf. Normal skin color for an elf, but physique of a female orc, with less pronounced tusks. Jericho cocked his head. The combination looked strangely... exotic.
The two remaining were playing some card game. “The last two idiots over there are Jaeger and Hunter Kressel, brothers.” The pair looked up and gave a quick nod to Jericho. “Jaeger is our weapon specialists. Plasma guns, Fusion guns, you name it, he fires it. Hunter is our medic. Awful bedside manners” Sascha explained with a smile. Hunter casually flipped her off. “Fuck off Commander.” He said, a stick in his mouth. Sascha laughed and looked at Jericho, pointing to one of the lockers along the wall. “Grab one of the lockers and then go grab some gear.” She threw him a set of keys. “Pick out a weapon you like.” Catching the keys, Jericho nodded. “Yes, sir. Right away sir.” He said as he left the room, the door sliding closed behind him. “Hey Commander” Jaeger said. “10 credits on him screwing up or getting himself killed on the first op” Sascha looked at the closed door, smiling to herself. “You're on, assjackle.”
Sitting down on a bench in his quarters, Jericho looked at the gear he had been issued. He breathed out slowly as memories of his previous life washed over him. With care and practiced experience, he laid out his combat gear. Flak armor, DET-EX, lots of it by the looks of it. An SMG with ten clips of ammo, first-aid kit and so on. He grabbed the SMG slammed and clip in and chambered it. He held it up one-handed inspecting it. He pulled back on the bolt, ejecting a shell, checking the action. Meticulously, he dressed himself in his combat boots, his fatigues, shirt, flak armor and strapped his gear to his body. He stood up, enjoying the feeling of being dressed in military gear. Confidently, he stepped out of his quarters.
Returning some-time later, in full gear, carrying an old SMG of dated design. “I haven't been in this type of gear in 6 years.” He said as he walked back into the lounge area, with more confidence in his steps. Sascha looked up from her card-game with Jaeger and Hunter. Jericho stood tall, back straight and SMG slung across his chest. She stared at him a little longer than necessary perhaps. “Well... Uh... you look good in it.” She finally managed to say, much to Jericho's amusement. Hunter and Jaeger laughed, banging on the table. “Looks like the Commander is emotionally compromised” They cheered. Sascha blushed ever so slightly, while Jericho pulled up a chair and joined them, setting aside his gun and explosives first.
The door slided open again just as Jericho had taken his seat. Captain Trelkor stood in the doorway. “Sascha, a word?” It wasn't as much a request as it was an order. Sascha looked at him, trying to gauge what would happen next. She nodded after a pause and got up. Jericho followed her out with his eyes.
“What's up, Captain?” Sascha asked, leaning on a bulkhead with one arm. Trelkor paced around, arms behind his back. He let out a grunt. “I need your team to board an Endeavor-class cruiser and disable weapons and engines.” Sascha raised her eyebrows, blinking a couple of times. “Uhm, excuse me? You want eight people to go up against a ship with a complement of at-least 400?” Trelkor nodded grimly. “That's right. We don't have a choice. Prep your squad, go-time is in approximately 8 hours. Dismissed” He saluted Sascha, who returned his salute.
Watching him walk away, Sascha took a moment to reflect, battle-plans already going through her head. She nodded to herself, and walked back into the squad lounge with determined steps. “Clear the table, now!” she barked out. “Cormier, bring up the blueprints for an Endeavor-class light cruiser.” The squad sprung into action, Hunter sweeping everything haphazardly off the round steel table. Cormier quickly rolled out some blueprints, showing a straight cut-out of an endeavor-class cruiser, cut vertically.
“What's our task, Sir?” Jaeger asked apprehensively. Sascha leant in over the blueprints. “Our mission is to disable weapons and engines.” Jericho pointed at the engine bay. He recognized it from his boot camp days. “There.” He tapped the blueprint with his finger. “The endeavor-class is slow at sub-light. Slow but packs a mean broadside. Dorsal laser banks means we have to enter from the bottom.” He said while studying the blueprints. Sascha looked at him questioningly. “These things have a blind-spot?” Jericho nodded thoughtfully. “Yep. A design flaw. The cannon-batteries takes up so much power adding a second laser-bank would severely hamper shield integrity and sensor-strength.”
“That's our way in then.” Sascha concluded. “Yeah, don't get your hopes up princess” Jericho retorted. “There's still turrets flak-turrets down there. Given enough time, they could overwhelm our shields and tear up our armor.” He looked at the assembled squad. The silence in the room was deafening. Sascha finally broke the silence. “How much time do we have?” Jericho crossed his arms, closing his eyes, crunching numbers in his head. “30 minutes at the max until the weapons will severely damage the Reckless. Once we take out the weapons, until we all die to the crew defending the ship.” He looked at the group again. Staring around the assembled squad. “That's where my area of expertise ends.” Cormier rubbed his chin. “I suppose taking out the engine and the weapons aren't going to be just like that.” This time, it was Jaeger who spoke, shaking his head. “Weapon's control aren't going to be centralized, and blowing up a plasma-warp reactor will destroy our ship and us aswell.” Cormier nodded and traced his finger to what appeared to be a mainframe room. “Get me in there, and I can disable everything on the ship.” The group nodded and agreed. “So we head straight for the mainframe. Disabling internal sensors and the weapons should give us plenty of time to destroy their engines.” “We need a way in.” Jericho said, shuffling through the blueprints, bewildered. Trask nodded. He sat down on a chair, reversing it first. “Well, we do have some pretty powerful ordnance down here, but we also don't want to be blown away. “ Jericho nodded thoughtfully. “We blast it first with armorbuster grenades, and then we plant shaped fusion charges and retreat to a safe distance?” Trask grimaced. “It's possible, but difficult. We retreat to a safe distance, they are going to get an easier time shooting at us. We could scoot down the hull until the explosion has passed, but that means two trips in and out with turrets blazing around us.” Jericho sighed. He leaned his head back, resting his hand on his forehead. “I don't think we have a choice.” Trask nodded, letting out an agreeing murmur. “Can you hit the ship on approach with grenades? Might buy us some more time” Jericho asked Trask, looking at him straight in the eyes with a determined stare. “I can try, but no promises.” Sascha finally concluded. “Meet up at the armory in 6 hours. Dismissed”
The squad broke up, silently and reserved they went separate ways for a while, each one having their own pre-combat rituals. Trask went to the chapel, greeting crew-members as he met them along the way. The dim light in the room was bathing the room in a slight reddish glow. The pews were empty. Most people on this boat weren't very religious. He relaxed his body, letting his guard down. He clasped his hands together as silently as possible and bowed his head. Intoning a prayer, he asked for respite in the coming battle, asked for the safe harbor of the ship, but mostly, he asked for the forgiveness of the souls of his squad-mates, especially Trium. Ever so slightly, he nodded. Getting to his feet, he breathed calmly and steadily, letting the quiet solitude of the room comfort him.
Turning around, he walked to the door, casting one last look at the altar before leaving the room, the door sliding closed behind him. Better go ready the guns he thought to himself as he rounded a corner, heading to the armory. The armory was sparsely equipped. They haven't had the luxury of a resupply for several months now. He punched in his command-code to the heavy weapons section and entered. The light flickered on in the grey steel room, several lockers and shelves stood, some ammunition and very few heavy weapons on them. An autocannon, an old missile launcher, a minigun and a grenade launcher. Trask looked at the ammunition. Seven missiles, 24 HE grenades, 13 armor-busters. 10 clips for the autocannon, 400 rounds in total, and no rounds for the minigun. Sighing he walked to the autocannon, inspecting it, making sure there were no round in it. He hefted the heavy gun, feeling the weight in his arms. This wasn't for precision aiming. Whatever this thing hit was likely to explode in a shower of guts and bones. It could even crack light armor. He grunted as he placed the gun back on the shelf, a heavy metallic clunk reverberating through the room.
He heard the door the the armory open. Turning his head to the door, he called out “Who's there” Jericho appeared in the doorway, both hands up. “Relax big boy, it's just me. Lt. told me you had a problem with some explosives you were trying to jury-rig.” He let his hands down, leaning up against the door. Trask nodded. “Aye, shaped fusion charges. Was going to use them to blow open doors and bulkheads, but I just can't seem to get them to... well... shape.” Jericho crossed his arms, looking at the big orc. He hadn't figured him for the inventive type. He breathed in through his nose. “Maybe I can take a look at it.” Trask snorted derisively, walking over to Jericho and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Feel free. Just don't blow us all up.” He pushed his way past Jericho, who was just trying not to get squished. He lead him to a mix between a workbench and a bomb-factory. Jericho raised an eyebrow. “Big on safety, are you?” He said sarcastically, noting the scattered remains of what used to be a highly explosive compound and some serious burn-marks in the table. “When you are out in the ass-end of nowhere, fighting a war most people haven't heard about, you do what you can.” Trask sighed as he pulled up a chair for Jericho.
They both sat down at the illuminated table. “So, I got your standard fusion charge here. No big deal, you detonate it, it goes boom.“ Trask picked up the charge and studied it in his hand. “But the problem I have is that shaping this thing is damn near impossible. Boromite helps somewhat, but not nearly enough. Ideas?” He asked Jericho, looking at him questioningly. Jericho looked at the parts, crunching numbers in his head, discarding ideas. “Well, some, yeah. I suppose one way would be to direct the discharge of energy with a gravimetric magnetic field generator. Basic principle really. Magnetic fields disperse energy created by atomic fusion. Why wouldn't it work the other way around?” Trask raised his eyebrows, turning the charge in his hands. He smirked slightly. “We'll have to build one by hand then”
The hours flew by as the pair meticulously set about doing R&D with the generator. They were shook from their reveille by a warning klaxon. Condition 3. “Right, we better get suited up. I'll see you at the ventral airlock.” Trask said as they looked up from their work. Jericho nodded to him and quickly left the room, heading down the decks. He arrived at the airlock, seeing the other members of his squad getting themselves ready. Trask was right behind him, lugging an autocannon over one of his shoulders and a grenade launcher strapped across his back. “Get ready on the launcher when captain gives the go. Helmets on” She said as a countdown for the airlock to be sealed began. “Comm check” she said, helmet in place. The squad all responded positive.”
The bridge was quiet with anticipation. The refits were complete, Fire had assured him. “Fortune favors the bold” He muttered under his breath. A beeping from the Ops console alerted him to his quarries approach, even before his officer had told him. “On screen” he ordered. The picture of an endeavor-class light cruiser appeared. The endeavor-class that was chasing him down. He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Shields up. All stop, reverse turn” he said, reclining in his chair. Moments later, the light cruiser burst out of warp, priming weapons and shields raised. “Full speed. Get underneath them” The Reckless spurred on, engines straining under the sudden demand put on them. His first officer glanced at him with a worried look. “Something's wrong, Sir.” she said. “They aren't firing” she noticed. No turrets, no lasers, no nothing. Engines were cut off aswell.
Trelkor clenched his fists. He stood up, looking at the screen. “What the hell are they up to” he asked himself. The helmsman glanced at him. “Steady as she goes” He said, dismissing the half-orc. “Captain, we have an incoming hail.” Ops notified the bridge. Trelkor spun around and quickly said “On screen!” The image of a young man, with blood streaming down the side of his face appeared. His blue eyes were clear and his hair matted brown. He had finely chiseled features that reminded Trelkor of imperial nobility. “This is acting captain Jonathan Blackstar of the IMS Ferocious requesting ceasefire.” Trelkor looked at him in disbelief “This is Captain Trelkor of the Reckless. Truce accepted.” Jonathan smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “I'm glad we could avoid bloodshed this day Captain. I am here on the behalf of the crew of the Ferocious. We wish to join your rebellion.”
***
Crown Prince Valorian slowly sipped his warm tea as he looked out the huge glass into the void of space. An opera was playing in the ostentatiously decorated state-hall, loud enough to cause the wine glasses on the table to vibrate. Valorian looked ahead, seeing his face half-obscured in the glass. His fair hair was parted in the middle, strands of it hanging to either side of his face. His brown eyes stared back at him. He wasn't dressed in his full dress uniform, wearing a simple black tank-top that revealed scars on his arms and shoulders. He stood in the dark room with his arms crossed, staring out into the void. His mind turned to the unity of the empire. How terribly fragile it all was. How terribly dangerous the situation had become. The Barony had been making gestures along their border, harassing trade missions and scaring travelers. He hoped a full-out war could be avoided, at-least until the rebellion was put down.
He heard the great walnut doors open, but did not move from the spot, nor turn his head. Heels clicked against the polished oaken flooring, nearing him. A youthful feminine face appeared in the glass next to his. Her golden hair done up in an elaborate style, a silver tiara resting on her forehead. Her green eyes appearing almost black in the in the glass window. Her finely chiseled face would have made the envy of any sculptor. She spoke softly “Good to see you again, brother.” Valorian turned slightly and clicked a button on a wall interface, silencing the music. “Gabrielle. Good to see you. I hope your trip was successful” They turned towards each other and embraced. “Very much, Valor. The ships will be fueled for another century.” She grasped his arms and smiled at him lovingly. “Good, good, Gabby. You do the Aurelian dynasty proud.” He said as he looked at her, his eyes traveling up and down her figure. Her black dress perfectly accentuating her feminine curves. Her dress, with the plunging neckline, showcased her perfect breasts quite nicely, although within modest limits.
She released him from her grasp, giving him a quick peck on his cheek. “Is Marcus here?” She asked, gazing out at the stars with him. Valorian sighed, placing his arm on the glass window, leaning against it. “He stationed himself with the 3rd fleet. The Barony have been stirring up trouble along the border” Gabrielle paused, looking out of the window. “When will he be back?” She asked, hope in her soft voice. Valorian looked down, breathing out heavily. “It could be weeks. It could be months...” Dark thoughts clouded his mind as his sentence died out... He knew very well the Barony wouldn't hesitate to strike if they could kill the high marshal of the empire. Gabrielle touched his arm again tenderly, the warmth from her touch reassuring Valorian slightly. “I'm sure he will be back soon.” She turned around and walked to the door, stopping just before, turning her head. “Joining me for dinner, brother?” Valorian nodded, mostly to himself. “Sure. Be there in 5.” He replied to Gabrielle as she gracefully left the room.
Valorian turned on the opera again, resting his head with his eyes closed. He too, felt adrift a mighty sea of unknowns. The rebellion, the barony, the welfare of his people. The encroaching darkness that threatened to tear everything his family had built, apart. He would not let it happen. His brother would not let it happen. His sister would not let it happen. He smiled to himself. His lovely sister probably did more to avoid conflict than he or their brother combined. The opera soon finished, and with the last notes of music, he left the grand dining room.
The brightly lit corridors of Valorian's flagship, The Servant, were wide and ostentatiously decorated, as befitted his station and the function of this ship. It wasn't so much a ship of war as it was a central command station. A space station more than a ship, it had, to be certain, more than enough defenses to match its bark. The crew walking its corridors did so with their head held high. It was an honor to be stationed on The Servant. He entered an elevator, finding it already occupied. He smiled and nodded to the man already in. “Ah, Mr. Relani, how goes it?” He asked the man casually as the elevator continued on it's journey. “Very well, Sir. Just finished my shift, heading to the court for some RnR.” He stretched, rubbing his sore neck. Valorian nodded, smiling. “What about your child, is he doing fine?” Relani grimaced slightly. “He's contracted Pneumonia, Sir.” Valorian nodded grimly, eyes cast to the floor. “I'm sorry to hear that.” Valorian said, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. Relani thanked Valorian “It's not your problem, but I appreciate your concern. Doc says he's getting better, but he might still be too young to survive.” A tear started to form in Relani's eye. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. “If there is anything I can do, let me know, and I will do everything in my power.” Valorian said honestly. Relani nodded. “Well, this is my stop, Sir. Thank you, I mean it Sir, thank you.” He said as he left the elevator. Valorian bid him farewell and continued through through the station to his sister's quarters.
A chime announced Valorian's arrival “Enter!” Gabrielle called out. She was seated with her back to the door, in-front of a vanity mirror, removing various pieces of jewelry and letting her hair down. She was out of her gala dress, and was wearing a much more comfortable bare-back pristine white v-neck dress that went to her knees. The room itself was lit up like it was day outside and richly decorated with art and furniture. Red carpets covered the floor, upon which stood antique furniture from Old Earth. The table was precious mahogany with gold and ivory inlays. The chairs were exquisitely manufactured and hand-crafted with a timeless, yet ancient design. Soft classical music were playing, giving the room an air of aristocracy. Gabrielle stood up and ran to her brother, embracing him. “Brother! It's good to be able to dine with you again.” Valorian embraced her back, feeling her soft skin and her vanilla-scented hair. “It has indeed been too long, dear sister.” They looked deeply into each others eyes, his brown eyes staring lovingly into her jade eyes. “The servants will be right along with our meal. It's just a small nibble, really.” She said as she walked to the table, pulled out one of the heavy chairs and sat down. He sat himself down across from her, his eyes glancing quickly down to her breasts, threatening to spill from her dress before looking back at her face. If she noticed, she didn't show it.
A male elven servant soon entered the room carrying two plates of food. The gentle smell of blinis and the finest Pirellian caviar filled the room. The elf, in his modest tuxedo vest over a white shirt gently placed the porcelain plates in-front of Gabrielle and Valorian as gently as he could, to avoid disturbing their conversation. Chilled white wine was poured, and he stood at attention, head towards the floor. Gabrielle quickly dismissed him with a gesture of her hand. He nodded and promptly left. Gabrielle raised her glass first, as was the custom of the host. Valorian responded in kind, waiting for her to sip before he himself sipped the delicious wine. “So, dear sister, how was your trip?” He asked as he sat his crystal-glass down. She leant back in her chair, twirling her glass around, a bemused look on her face. “As you would expect really. He wanted to personally fly me home after our negotiations were concluded, hence my gala dress.” Valorian laughed. He knew what that had entailed. “He was gods-awful really, easy to convince.”
She shifted slightly in her seat, crossing her legs and crossing her legs in the other direction. She felt herself moisten slightly, both from frustration and from her past few days. Valorian noticed her gaze, it always seemed to change ever so slightly when she became aroused. He smirked to himself. He hadn't had a good lay himself in a few days. The elven servant-girls were fine, to be sure, but his sister... she was something else. So young, yet so talented both in the areas of diplomacy and lovemaking. She was barely of legal age, yet had been conducting high-level negotiations for over two years. He carefully ate a blini, as he continued to stare at her intently, his eyes fixed on hers. He got up from his chair, Gabrielle looking at him with innocent and longing eyes. He walked slowly over to her, sliding his fingers on the table as he went. He stood behind her, caressing her ear and playing with her hair. She looked up at him, smiling, her green eyes filled with joy and lust. He beckoned for her to stand up. She stood with his back to him. She had missed his brother. Valorian's arms went to her front, groping and feeling up her magnificent breasts. She sighed lightly at his touch, enjoying his hands on her tits. She let him have his way with her, her nether regions warming up to the thought. She looked sideways demurely as she felt Valorian's hands slide under and up her dress to touch her bare skin. He smirked “No panties? I like it Gabby, you little slut” He taunted her playfully as he squeezed her nipples between his fingers.
Gabrielle smiled shyly as she enjoyed her brothers ministrations, moaning slightly at his touch. “So Gabby...” He paused as he moved one of his hands down her stomach, his other hand still gently massaging her breast. “Which hole shall I enjoy first?” He asked her, kissing her neck. “Your tight, teen pussy?” He said as he jammed two fingers inside her wet, tight hole. Gabrielle took a sharp breath at the sudden intrusion, an intrusion that wasn't all-together unpleasant. “Or perhaps...” He continued slowly withdrawing his wiggling fingers, placing his hand on her right butt-cheek. “Or should I perhaps ravage your warm and constricting ass?” He gave her butt a firm smack, eliciting a yelp of surprise. He withdrew his hand from underneath her dress and brought it to her chin, turning her head up to look at him. “I could also put your talented mouth to good use” He finished as he gave her a deep kiss, lusty and passionate. Their tongues dueled for supremacy.
Valorian broke the kiss, Gabrielle futilely trying to continue it. He let go of her breast and chin. With one swoop of his arm, he cleared the table in front of Gabrielle of clutter, glass and porcelain flying to the floor, shattering around them. Placing both his hands on the shoulder-straps of her dress, he ripped it apart through sheer strength. With one hand he unzipped his own pants, fishing out his sizeable cock. With the other hand he pushed Gabrielle firmly down onto the table, bending her at the waist. Unceremoniously he lined up his cock with her delectable pussy and thrust firmly into her. Gabrielle let out a slow moan as she felt herself being filled up with his cock. She wiped some stray hair from her eyes, steadying herself for the firm thrusts that she was sure she was about to receive.
Valorian took his time, taking in the view of her lovely back and ass. Watching as her pussy clung to his cock as he slowly worked his way into her tight tunnel. He was soon burrowed to the hilt, her young pussy having taken every inch of his 8 inch cock. He was astounded at the tightness, groaning slightly as Gabrielle worked her muscles to increase their pleasure. “How is it you managed to stay tight after all these years, Gabby?” He asked her with a playful tone as he slowly, laboriously withdrew. “Good genes...” was all she managed to stammer out, before her brother in one stroke, buried himself to the hilt again. She let out a loud moan this time, and continued her moaning and whimpering as Valorian picked up his pace, his thick cock penetrating her cunt over and over again.
He brought his hand down to her ass, smacking her firmly again, leaving a red mark, which only caused Gabrielle to moan louder. He let her hair slide through his hands as continued forcing his cock into her body. Grabbing her hair, he pulled hard on it, Gabrielle screaming in pain and pleasure, the sensation quickly overwhelming her. She felt her pussy clamp down on Valorian's cock. Valorian groaned at the new sensation, redoubling his efforts, fucking her through her orgasm, never giving her a moment to rest and catch her breath. His balls soon churned, and he knew he was nearing his end. He picked up his pace, pounding into her so hard that he was sure he was going to leave some marks. The sound of his pelvis crashing into hers resounded loudly through the room, the telltale sound of flesh slapping against flesh was timed to Gabrielle's moans.
“Just come in me” Gabrielle managed to stammer out inbetween moans. She sensed his end was near. He gave her ass one last slap as he thrusted himself deep inside her pussy and let out of torrent of hot cum. Gabrielle felt the cum splash against her insides, her whole body shaking as she came once again. She panted heavily as she felt Valorian pull out of her. The sudden feel of no longer being filled caused her to shiver slightly. She propped herself up, and turned around, sitting on the edge of the table, leaning back. She smiled slyly to Valorian who had stuffed his cock back into his pants. “Well... aren't you sexy-looking, sitting like that with my cum leaking out of you” He said to her, smiling as he collapsed down into a chair, panting slightly.
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