What Happened at the Tower

BY : Silviana_of_Qualinost
Category: A through F > Dragonlance
Dragon prints: 1339
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonlance or any of these characters who are the property of Wizards of the Coast and Weis and Hickman. I make no money from this.

Note: because I realized that my other longer story (Red on Red) is going to take some time to finally get to any sexy business, I decided to post a short one about Raist and Crysania set at the beginning of War of Twins, right at the point when Crys, Raist and Car come to the Tower of High Sorcery. This is more or less just for the purpose of smut. What I really think Crysania should have done when  the twins fell asleep.

The chill, unnatural breeze was still with them in the room. Neither Raistlin nor Caramon seemed to notice, wrapped as they were in the tattered curtains which Crysania provided. The cleric herself,  however, was distracted. Convinced at first that sleep would imminently claim her, she felt too restless now having lain down. Disturbing thoughts kept passing through her sleep- deprived brain, not helped by the knowledge that the guardians of the tower were there somewhere, just on the periphery of her vision. The cold did not help either. Pressed as she was against Raistlin, the chill would not leave her bones.. It settled idly and persistently into her being, seeming to want to freeze her inside and out.

No! She  screamed silently to herself and bit her lip, daring for the blood to flow, to keep the circulation running. I will not succumb to the cold! Not after everything that just transpired.

Inadvertently she clasped her ice-cold hands where they lay against Raistlin’s chest. The comatose mage sighed slightly and shifted at this movement and Crysania stilled herself, not wanting to do anything more to disturb his rest. Yet, he was warm, much warmer than her, with his unnatural heat beginning to radiate once more from somewhere deep inside him. And Caramon had said that when Raist has over exerted himself with magic, he would be slumbering deeply. Perhaps deeply enough that she could move over the folds of his velvety robe where they intersected over his chest; deeply enough that he would not notice her ice cold fingers plunging inside to burry themselves between the smooth cloth and his chest? After all, she was so cold.

Instinctively, not reasoning with herself further, Crysania did just that, slipping her hands under the robe tentatively. Then she was still, palms pressed against his chest, she dared not move anymore, slightly amazed at her boldness. He was smooth, smoother than any man had any right to be. But then again, he wasn’t just any man. She was amazed at just how much she could suddenly… feel him.  That one layer of velvet aside had made all the difference.  Crysania sensed how the cloying scent of roses that always clung to him got stronger, as though seeping through the pores themselves. It truly engulfed her then, with her head on his shoulder.  Against what the cleric would have called her better judgment, her fingers, as though controlled by someone else, gave into temptation and began to stroke the slim expanses of that chest.

Over the ridges of the jutting collar bones, and up to the throat … then down again, she felt his inner heat swell and follow the movements of her hands on him. She felt herself involuntarily shudder as her thumbs dragged over his nipples and they stiffened at the touch. Crysania’s hands lingered there, making awkward circles. And yet he slept… he slept…

But maybe not as soundly anymore. She felt his rugged heart beat pulsate more rapidly, his breath catching more shallowly still in his throat, his eyelids fluttering. Crysania, thought about stopping, but the feel of the warmth finally stealing into her body from the caresses was to delicious. She just had to have move. Leaving the nipples, she travelled down to where she could feel the heat was more intense, spreading open his robe even further, catching a glimpse of his beautifully protruding ribs and the taunt, pale flesh over them. Oh where, where did the heat come from? Her hands came to settle on his sunken belly, and here there was a furnace. She paused again and relished in the feeling, finding a slim trail of hair on his abdomen and tracing it fiercely. Up and down. Up and down again. The heat increased… it was almost smoldering.

   There was a sudden, low and guttural moan as Raistlin’s neck arched and his hips thrust forward sharply. Startled, Crysania raised her head and looked at him, but the mage’s eyes were still closed although his left arm which was loosely thrown around her tightened and she felt his fingers clench roughly into the back of her robes. Not sure what to do now that she found herself in this predicament, Crysania dared not move, her hands still on the mage’s stomach, feeling the rhythmic thrumming of his blood there.

Then he spoke, hoarsely,  still submerged in sleep:

“Please… Crysania… the heat… the heat is too strong….”

This was accompanied by yet another thrust of his bony hips, more urgent and persistent this time. Crysania gasped. He was right… the heat he was emitting now was unearthly. Poor boy! He must not be able to stand this burning, it was too much for him. She felt then, that she must go lower yet, feeling that this heat came from further down. She didn’t hesitate anymore, convinced that this was in some way an act of healing, her right hand settled on his hips, pushing them down, whilst the left slid down in one smooth movement. Had this been anyone but Raistlin, she would be appalled at the thought of such contact, but as she cupped his hardened length in her hand, nothing in any world felt more natural. Her fingers gripping him tight, she began to stroke leisurely, wanting nothing more but to quench his infernal heat. She felt instantly the beads of liquid collecting on the tip of his cock, adding lubrication to her sliding fingers. Above her she heard his shallow pants quicken a pace as he whimpered something unintelligible and thrust into her hand with fervent longing.

Crysania felt ecstatic, as she often did when praying, though thoughts of Paladine were far from her mind for once. Still, this was a prayer of some kind, of this she was certain, although a prayer to what god she did not know. She found herself gasping along with him as her strokes became more frantic and she knew somehow that there was something else she had to do because now there was an answering need inside her. She lowered her porcelain face down, lips opening eagerly and slid his quivering cock into her mouth. Her tongue stopped to explore the soft head, gliding over the opening where she could taste his delicious fluid drizzle the inside of her mouth; his flavor was that of herbs and roses- he tasted like a god. She plunged his length deep into her mouth to stifle a moan that threatened to burst out of her.

She was taking his heat into herself, slowly draining him of the discomfort that it brought. His taste in her mouth made her moist and her thighs began to quiver. Crysania thrust a hand between her legs, parting her lips and finding a spot inside herself that threatened to set off an explosion. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t take much, just a few well timed strokes of her fingers and she would erupt. As though aware of her thoughts, Raistlin’s hands grabbed the back of her  head and forced her mouth down hard unto his thrusting cock, which burst spontaneously, filling her throat with a thick, creamy coating of his seed. She gulped down the fluid hungrily, overcome by the taste of cloying roses, and with a single stroke of her hand, came instantly over her own fingers.

Letting him fall out of her mouth, Crysania took a shuddering breath, finding that there were tears in her eyes,  and looked up at Raistlin. A small laugh escaped her and she crawled back up and replaced the dislodged black curtain around them. Raistlin’s breath had deepened once more and he lay fast asleep, not showing any outwards sign that he had even noticed what transpired. The time travelling spell clearly exhausted him enough that, although he was naturally a light sleeper, his body would not let him emerge from slumber just yet. That is alright, Crysania thought as she placed her head back on his shoulder and readjusted his robe, let him think that this was but a dream. Somewhere where he floats above the world now, he knows…

Her body having taken in the needed heat from Raistlin, Crysania slept soundly.

Across the room, Caramon snored heartely, also unaware of what had taken place.



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