Good as his word, Tobin knelt over her on the bed, and carefully spread just a drop of his fire across her back and ass. It softened her flesh a little, and amplified the soothing effect of his tough skinned fingers working into those muscles. He worked in silence a while. When he dug his thumb into a particularly stubborn knot in her shoulder blade, she let out a yelp.

"...I'm okay."

Tobin grinned as he released the shoulder. "Sorry, it needed a bit of tough love. You know, I can practically feel the fires of your shop. All day long, this meat supports you and the hundred-pound bundles of metal that you carry around in the hot wind."

"You feel it? I can’t tell if you're selling me a load of v’tikh or not," said Brunhilde, mostly into the pillow. "But what you're doing back there is working."

"Good. Now, what're you into? I hope you don't mind I'm frank about it. Even before I worked here, I was known for being the shameless omnisexual slut of our gr—"

"Tobin." She turned to look back at him. "Do I look like someone who has trouble being businesslike?"

The tiefling snickered. "Fair point. So what do you like to do. Intercourse, outercourse, oral, anal? Some kinky shit?"

"Mostly, I want to ride your pretty face and your pretty dick." She turned over onto her back and peeled away the last of her clothing, the long undies that still clung to her calves. In the chilly air her nipples were stiff as iron. She smiled serenely and patted the bed. "I assume it's a pretty one, anyway."

Tobin climbed on, and into her waiting arms, slipping off his shirt in the process.

"Very pretty, I'm told."

His kisses had a spicy warmth. More than mere physical heat, not quite the organic burn of jinji root or capsiflor, but something ethereal that licked at the human mind. His tongue was likewise unique. It was quite long and slender, capable of wrapping around hers. But he didn't overuse the effect.

She helped him out of his trousers, noting that his butt was a soft, supple leather just like his face, the muscles like taut bundles of Matlani hemp rope. Tough plate-like derma, like the plating at his temples, adorned the pelvic crests, the spinal column, and the base of his whiplike tail.

"That ass is marvelous," Brunhilde whispered.

"So are these tits." Eagerly he cupped them in his hands, observing her response to the slightest of touches. Quite without warning, his tongue flicked out and across her right nipple. She shivered and giggled. He kept one hand there while the other slid all the way down her belly to her mound. "And this body! Soft skin belying such strength."

"You like it?"

"Hells, yes. I look forward to being crushed by it. But first..."

Tobin leaned into kissing Brun, short, neat little kisses, their lips joining and parting over and over with just the tiniest brush of his hot tongue. His hand still lingered in her bushy pubes, and presently he dragged his fingers through them, and whispered,

"Do you want me to—"

"Touch my cunt? Gods, yes."

He began to lazily slide his fingers between her legs and along the periphery of her cunt, picking up her slickness as he went. "Mmm," he said, pulling back from the kiss a moment.

"Mmm. You, sir, are a fucking tease."

"Me? Wha—oh, yes. How rude of me, I forgot to knock on your door." With an evil smirk on his face, his middle went immediately to Brunhilde's clit, and circled around it. Her whole body shuddered.

"That's much better, yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me," she said, grabbing his shoulders to pull him in.

In a minute, she was clambering aside so he could get beneath her and she astride him. At last, she got a good look at his erection. It, too, was a mottled mix of purple and blue pastel hues, but with a splash of gold thrown in. It was wickedly upcurved, not like any human dick she had seen. But in other regards it looked not so different: veiny, ever so slightly conical, the skin stretched so taut it shone in the firelight. She reached out.

"My gods, it is pretty. And so hard! Feels like it might burst."

"It won't. But I might, from waiting to taste that wet cunt." The prospect of riding him, without restraint or fear of doing damage, had her drenched.

"Okay, okay," she said. "Just give me a tap on the leg if you need to come up for air!"

"I wum," he said, muffled as Brun sat down on his face. His hands reached out for hers as he began to slide his tongue around her labia and clit. She squirmed at a sudden swipe of the latter, and bucked her hips. This only caused him to tighten his grip on her hands and to bury himself harder, which caused her to lose herself the more... until she really was riding him like a stubborn young horse, and he was masturbating furiously.

Then she felt his slender tongue slip its way into her, feeling her out. The dampness between her legs became a continuous trickle, and then briefly a deluge. She cried out in awe as Tobin did his best to lap it up. Something warm hit her on the shoulder.

"Oh, my Gods! Sorry Tobin, I didn't know I was going to gush like that."

The messy-faced infernal sucked air like his whole body was a hollow cavity, and then cackled with glee as he easily lifted her and deposited her next to him. His right hand was distinctly sticky. "Didn't know I was going to, either. Can we take a beer break?"

He offered her a towel from the nightstand, got up and replaced the covers, and threw on trousers. Then he ran off to fill the beer mug, his tail buckle still swinging free. Brunhilde rested a hand where he had lain. The linens were nice and toasty.

"Oh good, you're back." She was now sitting at the bedside. "Come join me. I want to hear more about you, the parts you can tell."

"Well, for starters, Fa was human—an auxiliary soldier like yourself—and was barely in the picture. Ma always told me he'd rescued her from the devastation of Islahan. But I think the truth is messier than she paints it. Lot of women didn't leave the island by choice. She never really seemed to miss him, or recount anything good he'd done, save for bringing her to Freetown. Thanks." He paused to drink from the mug. "Didn't need him anyway. We did well in town purely on the basis of her enterprise: she was a tailor, and then a maidservant, and nowadays she's a schoolteacher."

"Wait a second. Islahan? How old are you, if I may ask?"

Tobin hesitated. "Twenty-five."

"You're just a baby!"

He sneered. "I am nothing of the sort."

"Anyway, Freetown seems like a peaceful enough place to start," said Brunhilde.

"You'd think so. Unfortunately, while Ma was out building on the goodwill Fa's name brought, being an exemplar of our kind for the locals, I was getting beat up by their kids in the street. Got us in some trouble when I decided to fight back and I broke some stupid kid's arm. I feel bad now, I apparently cost her a bunch of business. But I was hurt and angry and very caught up in my shit. So, at age 14 she sent me to the trades. Prominent among the trades of Freetown, of course, is the mercs guild."

"Shit." Air whistled between Brunhilde's teeth.

"Even at the mercs I stuck out like a sore thumb. So I was still getting targeted, but this time, legitimized as sparring. And when I sought revenge—came at my bully with a homemade tail spur, kicked him to the ground and cut his face—the instructor laughed, and told him not to poke hornet's nests. And said to me, 'Nice attitude, but work on your fundamentals.' Finally, kids stopped fucking with me, and I could focus on my studies."

She passed him the beer. "And people wonder why I don't have children. So is that where you discovered you had fire magic?"

"We always suspected, but yeah. And it's where I met the first two of my associates. Yan was a cleric's kid, built like yourself, teetotaler, good head for strategy. I thought he was a colossal douche when I met him. Then he saved my hide in a skirmish with some highwaymen. Now I think he's a manageably sized douche, what has my back and gets things done. And Rowena, she's half-elven and a couple years older. So gifted they made her teacher's assistant. She gave me a hard introduction to magic, kicked my ass all over the yard when I mouthed off. But she also looked out for me like an older sister. It's only... slightly awkward that we're in the pleasure business now, and have spitroasted a merchant together."

Brunhilde chuckled. "I sense you're an unconventional romantic like me. Here, you finish this. But where did you learn to eat cunt like that?"

"Oh, the usual. Kidnapped by lady pirates. One of them comes at night to use me, shows me what she likes. Soon I've seduced them all and they turn on each other.” Tobin pantomimed a little slapstick as he continued: “First mate stabs the captain, hrrk, second mate breaks the first mate's nose, doof! and then Rowena, ever the showoff, rides in on a wall of water and whoosh, throws them overboard."

"I'm calling bullshit."

"I swear by the Nine, it happened just like that. Ask Rowena. I'll introduce you later."

"Okay. But for now, let's lose the pants, pretty boy," said Brunhilde.

"Whatever you like, gorgeous." Trousers and smallclothes slid away. Flickering firelight caught on Tobin's wiry musculature, on the shaft of his half-hard dick that lay flopped to one side, and on the sticky residue of his infernal seed, of which a droplet still clung to the head, eager to fall.

"Let me get a closer look at that." She leaned over and grabbed hold of it. It was beautiful, but like any penis, there was something very unaesthetic about the foreskin curled up around the head like a pouty old man. She slid it back easily. He groaned.

"You know, you don't have to—"

"I just want a taste." She knew a bit about getting men hard with her mouth. She reached out with her tongue and dragged it along the bottom of his foreskin, down the shaft, until her lips had taken in the head of him. Then with agonizing slowness she pulled back, until she'd licked over and off the tip, and gave it a chaste little kiss. The tiefling sucked air between pursed lips.

"How is it?" There was a tremble in his voice.

"Salty. And smoky. And just a little sweet."

"You're a very good tease," he said, patting her head softly.