Crossfire

*** There's a still in the street outside your window... ***

*** You're keeping secrets on your pillow... ***

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Secrets. I kept so many secrets these days. I was keeping two at this very moment in fact.

The first was an overwhelming fondness of trees.

Oh, I know what you're thinking, what about trees could possibly appeal to a bloodthirsty old monster like me, but that's just it, isn't it?

Of all of creation few things were as old and bloodthirsty as a tree. Fighting every day for survival, strangling the very life from their woodsy brethren in their constant effort to climb higher and higher into the sun. The older they were, the more deaths they had on their leafy branches.

And yet, they hid it so well, didn't they? No one ever says "oh look at that ugly old tree, isn't it blood-thirsty?", no it was always "oh look at that beautiful tree isn't it majestic?".

Majestic.

Hm, Xelloss the Majestic Priest, I could get behind that.

Still, the thing I loved most about trees was they provided the ultimate roost for observation. Why, it was almost as if they'd been made for it! What with their tall heights and great bows of leafy foliage!

Perfect for peering out, when you didn't want anyone else to peer back in.

Which lead us to another secret fondness I've been keeping as of late, her name is Filia Ul Copt, and if she was fascinating during the day that was nothing compared to what went on in her bedroom at night.

I'd learned a lot of things about the sleeping habits of a Golden Dragon in the few weeks past. Although, considering that Gold in observation was Filia, I would be hesitant to preclude these results to all Golden Dragons in existence.

However, seeing how the only other Gold of note in my book wasn't exactly worth staying up all night to spy on, my would-be study group seems complete enough in my book.

Hm, yes, Filia's many odd sleeping habits. Let's begin with her lack of bedroom attire.

Oh there's a robe she keeps by the door in case of emergencies, mind you! But, hm, Filia preferred to slip into the realm of the unconscious in as close to her "natural" form as possible it seemed.

I was always fascinated by the concept of pajamas, seeing how I never had need of them as I never slept, and I confess I was at first mildly disappointed at this discovery.

But only at first.

The next thing worth noting is her quite vigorous indulgence in things I had not expected to see even a former shrine maiden doing to herself.

I rather enjoyed watching those parts. The way her body arched as her obviously well-practiced fingers played out her desires against the pink throbbing nub of her flesh. The way she bit her lip to keep from crying out as she came, as so not to wake the whole of the house.

I particularly liked the nights when she felt the urge for a little foreplay. One hand caressing it's way up her cheek and into her hair, griping it hard as the back of her other hand found the moistness of her lips.

Sometimes she'd pinch her nipples as well, making them so hard the throbbing of my own erect member seemed almost in sync.

The first few nights I had only observed, admittedly giddy with delight at the deliciousness of it all. However, as time went on and night after nigh I felt my own lust growing harder and harder as I bore witness to the show I finally broke down and decided to join in.

I can still remember that first night I gave in to my newest secret vice, my hand slipping down into the waistline of my slacks, my eyes open in cold violence as I drank it all in. I could feel my rigid thickness in my hand and almost sighed aloud as I began to work it against the taunting friction of glove. However, I too bit my lip, silently meeting Filia's own hastening fury as we drove on and on, closer and closer until I watch her explode, my own cock erupting in a violent spazam that forced me to fall back, and grip the trunk of the tree for support.

Afterward, Filia would always fall back into the pillows, glorious lines of sweat-drenched golden hair plastered to her moisten brow. Yet, that night, for the first time I paid her intriguing recovery no mind, instead staring at the moist stain smeared across my glove.

It seemed so significant, a marking of our time together, or more accurately a marking of my time which I had secretly siphoned from her.

There was something so dark, and primal in it that I couldn't help but smile.

Night after night I would keep to this tree, each night meeting her own lusting explosions with a dark violence of my own.

I wanted to be the one pressing into her flesh, I wanted to feel the wetness of those lips against mine. Wanted to feel them on my yearning girth, wanted to feel the warmth of her throat as I... as I... Oh fuck yes...

Bored once again, I idly wiped my hand on the back of the tree and smiled contently as she too came down off her private hurricane.

I loved the taste of her emotions as she came back down, never any guilt, not really even happiness, just a strange sort of calm emptiness. I suppose it was peace, but it almost tasted exactly like tea.

I found this amusingly ironic as I am sure you can understand.

I wonder what flavor her tea would be if I was the cause of all that pleasured ravishing, I suspected it would taste delicious, perhaps even a little spicy.

Of course, these were just idle musings. I had lived a long time in this world and I knew the things I could do, and the things I could do not.

Oh, I could take her to be certain, but the odds of her tasting like a nice Earl Grey afterward were less than zilch.

No. Sometimes it was best just to sit back on the sidelines and... well wait... that was odd...

Filia, had apparently started moaning in her sleep. Not just moaning either, rustling, shifting, and...

Oh my, I had no idea Golden Dragons could have those sort of dreams!

My, how deliciously fascinating...