To The Victor, The Spoils

Alastor had come to her after the raid had concluded to receive medical attention for the injuries he'd taken in battle, and while she was treating him, he informed her of a task he had for her that evening. She was to be the prize for the wolf that had bested him in combat; a woman to warm the warrior's bed and satisfy his every need. While not her most ideal way of spending an evening, Irilyth could not refuse her Master's command. She would bed the warrior for as long as it took to slake his lusts. After the Elysium band had left for their dinner party with Fenmyre, Irilyth had gone to the storage den Alastor had spent the afternoon clearing out and preparing for them to make sure everything was ready. She took her dose of contraceptives, bathed and groomed to be nice and presentable for the Fenmyrian warrior, then settled in to wait.

At some point, she must have dozed off, because when she came to the sound of voices outside the den, it was dark and silver moonlight was spilling into the den, shining like a spotlight on her lithe, blonde form. She peered up with doe-like raspberry eyes to the young brute that peered in at her with eyes like molten gold. He exchanged banter with Alastor for a minute, and then her Master left and the wolf entered the den. Irilyth played her part. She gave a languid stretch of her slender, curvy form across the bedding, trying to make herself as much of a feast for his eyes as she had no doubt he'd make of her body for his. He greeted her, his voice casual, but with an odd hesitation in it. She didn't pay it any heed however, far too focused on how large he was and mentally trying to prepare for what he might be like in bed.

"Good evening, my handsome lord," she greeted him back with a practiced purr to her voice and a bat of golden-blonde eyelids over pale red irises. The brute introduced himself as Cináed—a pleasant but unexpected touch of chitchat—then came down to lie beside her. Wearing a grin that was entirely for show, Irilyth rolled over onto her back to present her slim belly and fluffy undercoat to Ciná in a show of total submission to him while she pressed her side into his warm, toned frame. "Cináed... Such a regal name. You must be highborn, right?" A petite paw reached up to trace a slow stroke along the edge of his jaw and down the side of his thickly corded neck, teasing him with a feather-light touch and surprised to find how tense he was.

He asked her name then, and Irilyth was taken aback, blinking in earnest surprise. She'd been used by brutes before, never once had any asked her name. Why did it matter to him? She considered lying or giving a pseudonym, but if word got back to Master Alastor, no doubt he would punish her for being sneaky and disobedient. "My name is Irilyth, mighty lord," she replied, still speaking in velvet tones and seductively purred lyrics. All brutes liked when faes spoke like that. "But you may call me whatever your heart desires." Shifting to press her side more snugly into his, she added, "And what does your heart desire tonight, my victorious warrior? Whatever you want, I shall make it so for you." As Alastor had told him and commanded of her, she was entirely his until he was satisfied or spent.

"Irilyth"