Fic: The Adventures of Eames the Satyr, Arthur the Sexy Shepherd, and the Thrust of Destiny
The Adventures of Eames the Satyr, Arthur the Sexy Shepherd, and the Thrust of Destiny
Thanks to: sibilantly
Written for i_reversebang and skipping_pledge's wonderful art.
Wordcount: 3200
Eames' furry, pointed ears perk up: a short distance away is the unmistakable sound of a handsome human singing. It's a rather nice baritone that can actually carry a tune, which makes it even better.
He follows the sound through the lush forest to a secluded blue pond, fringed by some rather suggestively shaped cattails. There is indeed a gorgeous man seductively sluicing water over his naked body while humming the theme to the Harry Potter movies. Eames decides to settle in behind the bushes for some quality voyeurism.
Unfortunately, he trips over a log and rolls headfirst into the water, promptly ruining that plan.
The bathing man turns, not bothering to cover an inch of silky smooth skin, and asks, "Who goes there?"
Eames stands and brushes stray leaves out of his chest fur. "It is I, Eames the Satyr. And who are you?"
"Arthur, a simple shepherd of the peasant village Dullington," Arthur replies. He points at Eames' turgid member, clearly visible given Eames' nudity (Satyrs don't wear clothing, after all). "Is that for me?"
"Not specifically, no. It's always like that," Eames replies. "Part of my Satyric nature. But even if I didn't have a constant erection, I would very much like to have sex with you. It's why I was watching you bathe from the bushes."
"I could be into that," Arthur says. "But before I fuck a total stranger of a different species in the woods, I like to ask where he's going in the literal and non-metaphorical sense. Therefore: where are you going?"
"I'm on a quest to drink from the Goblet of Destiny."
"How fascinating," Arthur says. "When I was a baby, there was a prophecy which foretold that bathing in the forest that would lead me to my destiny."
"You've been bathing for a while, I take it?"
"I have. My fingers and toes have gone all pruney." Arthur holds them up as proof. "But it sounds like you're my cue to stop washing myself in a seductive manner. Your goblet must be the destiny that was foretold."
"Sounds about right," Eames agrees, hoping this will all lead to a blowjob. He'd settle for a handjob, though. "You're welcome to join me on my quest, if you'd like."
"Alright." Arthur wades out of the water, glistening in the sun like a chiseled god. "Is the Goblet of Destiny the key to saving the world?"
"No, but I hear it's filled with the best wine in the world," Eames says.
Arthur shrugs. "I like wine. You want a pruney handjob?"
Eames does.
* * * * *
After a rousing exchange of handjobs, Eames and Arthur set off. Arthur puts on clothing, sadly, because human feet and skin are terribly delicate. At least it's a very tight shepherd's outfit with a startling amount of cleavage.
"What's with the pan flute?" Arthur says, pointing at the pipe instrument dangling around Eames' neck.
"Oh, you know, I play provocative songs upon it to tempt mortals into orgies," Eames replies. "Also, wind instruments keep my lips limber for spectacular blowjobs. Not to mention the breath control."
"I'm not sure I should simply believe you like some country rube," Arthur says. "I may have to verify for myself."
"I stand behind my claims," Eames says, licking his lips as he undoes the front of Arthur's trousers.
After Eames has put to use his breath control and Arthur demonstrated some of his own techniques in return, they start walking again.
"Now, I have to admit that I've never fully understood the point of prophecies," Eames says, jaw pleasantly sore. "Are they meant to be helpful? Because the ones I've heard are so vague and obscure they're virtually useless."
"I think they're mostly useful for causing people to do things that otherwise wouldn't make much sense."
"Right, like joining up with a complete stranger on a quest," Eames replies as they round the corner to the location of the first clue to the Goblet of Destiny. It's a gnarled old tree around which a store has been built, proudly named: Adventurer's Sex Supply Shop.
There's a portly woman, presumably the shopkeeper, standing at the door and bellowing at prospective customers. "Come inside to solve the ancient riddle! And while you're at it, shop! All the latest fashions in fur loincloths and chainmail bikinis sold here!"
"I may be a sheltered shepherd from an incomparably boring village, but this seems like a fantastic combination of arboreal mystery and commerce," Arthur says.
"Ah yes, welcome, welcome," the shopkeeper replies, beckoning them in. "I, too, hail from an incredibly tedious little village. In the aimless wanderings of my youth, I saw dozens of would-be fortune hunters stop at this tree and spotted a business opportunity. Also, an ideal excuse to leave my hometown for good."
"I left to help a Satyr get drunk, so I hear you," Arthur says as they step inside and start examining her wares. "You don't sell any non-sexy armor or food here?"
"Used to," she shrugs. "But almost all my sales came from lube packets, condoms, and erotic armaments. So I figured, hey, let's give the horny people what they want. Hence, a shop for all a swashbuckler's sexual needs was born."
"We do have many needs," Eames says.
"If you're interested in a snack, I do carry aphrodisiacs like chocolate, bananas, and chocolate covered bananas. Not to mention the ever popular edible underwear, candy thongs, and whipped cream bras."
"Your tits would look great in a whipped cream bra," Arthur says to Eames, who preens and doesn't disagree.
"And you would look bloody fantastic in a fur loincloth," Eames says, holding up a narrow triangle of cloth decorated with a growling wolf's face.
Arthur considers the loincloth and heads into the dressing room to change. He comes out a minute later, naked but for the artfully placed wolf face. "Do you think I should switch to adventuring in this?"
Eames circles Arthur to admire the view of his chest, his legs, and especially his arse, which is on full display. "Absolutely, yes. You'll terrify your enemies with the allusion to your bestial nature and inspire wild lust in nearby Satyrs."
"I do enjoy ravishing Satyrs," Arthur says as he goes to haggle with the shopkeeper. He returns with a gift for Eames as well.
"A jeweled cockring?" Eames asks. "Darling, how did you know?"
"It's the one cockring to rule them all." Arthur helps Eames try it on in the dressing room with a maximum amount of groping. It takes a rather long time, and Eames finds himself on his back with legs in the air.
"I'm not quite sure what my arse has to do with the cockring," Eames pants as Arthur fucks him splendidly with his fingers. "Not that I'm complaining."
"Nothing, really. I'm just testing the efficacy of my loincloth," Arthur replies.
"Two hundred percent efficacious," Eames declares as he comes with a happy sigh. He returns the favor on his knees and swallows, so as not to muss up Arthur's brand new garment.
After neatening up, they walk to the very back of the shop where the tree is located. The riddle is etched into the trunk in a long dead language. Luckily, underneath is a handy plaque with a translation: What can be polished by hand, thrust into bodies, and is harder than a rock?
"A cock?" Arthur suggests after a moment of puzzling at it. Nothing happens.
"A tumescent cock?" Eames offers. Nothing.
"A dildo?"
"A jewel-encrusted dildo?" Still nothing.
"I don't think we're very good at riddles unless they're dirty ones," Arthur says. Eames is forced to agree.
The shopkeeper drifts over. "Since you two are currently my favorite customers, I'll give you an exclusive deal: buy one more item in my shop and I'll throw in the answer for free!"
"Well," Eames says. "I was interested in that magical talking prostate massager."
"Ah yes, one of our most popular toys," she replies. "It comes with three personality settings ranging from humiliating dirty talk to tender word-snuggles. If you're playing with a partner, it's like having a threesome with fewer complicated feelings involved!"
"I do enjoy word-snuggles," Eames says.
"Who doesn't?" she replies as she rings him up. "Congratulations on your excellent purchase. The answer to the riddle is 'The sword in the stone' and please come again! In all senses of the phrase."
They return to the tree. Eames repeats the password, which prompts a ghostly woman to appear and announce, "In the field of wildflowers where unicorns frolic, you shall find the sword buried in a tight, round stone. Remove it and be rewarded with the next secret spot on your journey to climax, which in your case means the Goblet of Destiny."
The figure vanishes and Arthur leers at Eames. "I'll show you a sword."
"Oh yes." Eames spreads his legs eagerly. "Please do."
* * * * *
They set off for the Wildflower Field of Unicorns, which takes two days to reach from the Adventurer's Sex Supply Shop. It's actually only a few hours' walk, but Eames accidentally drifts behind Arthur and becomes too distracted by the sight of bare arse to navigate properly.
They also make several stops to use the talking prostate massager and ensure all the various personality settings work. It really is like having a threesome with fewer complicated feelings involved.
Upon reaching the field, they wade through floral vegetation that comes up to their waists. The pollen causes Eames to sneeze more or less incessantly, which earns them disapproving looks from the unicorns frolicking about. In the middle of the clearing is a sword embedded in a round stone with a rather familiar cleft.
"Is that yours?" Eames says, taking to a moment to admire the curves of the stone and compare them with Arthur's arse.
"No, I'm positive that's yours," Arthur says, encouraging Eames to bend over so he can make a more thorough comparison.
Some time later, they get around to trying to extract the sword from the stone. It turns out not to be as easy as it looks.
Arthur tries first: yanking, pushing, and finally cursing it. Eames tries pulling, then wiggling, and eventually cursing it as well.
A nearby unicorn observes their struggles and trots over. "You're doing it wrong," it informs them in a voice like twinkling wind chimes on a sunny day.
"Oh yeah? Why don't you try pulling it out?" Arthur says, somewhat belligerently. Only somewhat, though. They are still talking to a unicorn, after all.
The unicorns rolls its eyes. "Because I lack opposable thumbs, duh. Anyway, you can't just start grabbing at a hilt and expect it to go somewhere. You need to use some finesse. Massage a little, warm up before you really start going at it."
"So we need to tease the sword until it's overwhelmed with desire," Eames says. "Then we can remove it?"
"Exactly. And they say Satyrs are too dumb to learn," the unicorn coos in a baby voice, giving Eames' ear a fond nip. "Who's not a stupid Satyr? Who?"
Using some of the lube packets at the bottom of their Bag of Holding, Eames proceeds to rub the hilt until it's flushed and practically purring in his palm. Together, they ease the sword out of the stone while it hums with contentment.
"That was surprisingly erotic," Eames says as he gives his own cock a few strokes; no point wasting good lube, after all.
Arthur licks his lips as he eyes Eames' cock. "Yes. And it's nearly nightfall, so we might as well make camp for the night."
Eames lays down on a bed of crushed wildflowers (not as comfortable as it sounds) while Arthur climbs on top. Although most of his attention is focused on Arthur riding him, out of the corner of his eye he can see a whole herd of unicorns gathered round to observe.
"Perhaps we ought to put up our tent?" Eames suggests, groaning when Arthur works his hips just so. "Feels a bit weird with these unicorns watching us."
"In a minute," Arthur replies, breathless as he chases his own orgasm. "Close your eyes and pretend they're robots."
Eames closes his eyes even though the idea of robot unicorns is singularly terrifying, and ignores the sound of unicorns chewing flower petals as he comes.
* * * * *
The next morning, after some intense cuddling along with a stream of compliments regarding its intelligence and beauty, the sword is persuaded to reveal the location of the next trial: the Saucy Tavern.
The Saucy Tavern is a wooden building filled with warmth, delicious food, and scantily clad serving men. Arthur and Eames avail themselves of the hearty stew and beers on tap before heading into the side room where the third trial awaits.
"The third trial is a test of bravery," a bored attendant intones while picking at her nails. "He who has the courage to engage the glory hole shall gain entrance to the Castle of Ennui and the Goblet of Destiny."
Eames and Arthur stare at the wooden wall with a dick-sized hole carved into it. Peering into the hole reveals nothing, as it's completely dark and impossible to see what's behind it.
"What's on the other side?" Arthur asks the attendant, who shrugs.
Eames stares down at the hole. "Is it humanoid, at least?"
"The third trial is a test of bravery," the attendant repeats. "He who has the courage to engage-"
"Yes, we got it, thanks," Arthur interrupts. "You can't tell us anything about what's on the other side because that would ruin the test."
The attendant chews her gum loudly.
"We've only known each other a short while, but I can state confidently that you are far more courageous than I," Eames says. "You should do the honors and fulfill your destiny."
"Yeah, but you're already erect," Arthur points out.
"Damnit," Eames says. "Foiled by my perpetual erection again."
Eames gingerly eases his dick into the hole and squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the dreaded sensation of teeth. Luckily, what he receives instead is a hot wet mouth and a great deal of tongue. It's not the best blowjob he's ever received, but it's not the worst either. Considering he's receiving it via a hole in the wall, Eames has no complaints.
After he orgasms, the glory hole magically widens to reveal a tunnel down into the earth.
"Hark, the fearless explorer has survived the final trial," the attendant says, reading off a paper script in monotone. "Behold: the secret passage to the Castle of Ennui where the Goblet of Destiny awaits. Sally forth, and travel with the blessings of the Saucy Tavern upon you."
The scantily clad serving men enter the room, clad even more scantily than before.
"I think they want you to show them your secret passage," Arthur comments, and Eames is more than happy to oblige.
* * * * *
An enjoyable round of bukkake later, Eames and Arthur head down into the tunnel beneath the Saucy Tavern. It is suitably spooky, filled with giant cobwebs, flickering blue ghostlights, and an improbable number of unopened treasure chests.
They emerge from the tunnel loaded down in gold chain necklaces and diamond bracelets. The Castle of Ennui appears to be deserted except for a few rats that pause when Eames and Arthur enter the room, only to resume their activities with great indifference.
A few wrong turns later, Eames and Arthur make their way to the throne room, where an enormous red dragon is sleeping, body curved around a marble pedestal upon which rests a plastic goblet.
"Shit," Eames murmurs under his breath as he tries to inch back out of the room, "perhaps it's a friendly dragon?"
One enormous dragon eye opens, and the most melancholy voice imaginable fills the air. "No. I have no friends."
"Er," Eames says, backing away more quickly. "We'll be off, then. Terribly sorry to disturb you."
"Or you could stay," the dragon says, low and tremulous. "Not that you will, I expect. No one ever does."
"To be fair, you are, objectively speaking, a nightmare creature," Eames says.
"I have hopes and desires, too, you know." The dragon heaves a long sigh, smoke issuing in wisps from its nostrils. "Not that anyone can ever see past the superficial to appreciate that."
"Uh, it sounds like you might be going through some stuff," Arthur says. "We actually just came for the Goblet of Destiny."
"I figured as much," the dragon says, flicking its tail at the pedestal. "That's what they always come for. Never me."
"Do you want them to come for you?" Arthur asks. "Because I'm pretty sure anyone who does would be trying to slay you for glory or honor or something."
"Yeah, I guess." The dragon heaves another huge sigh. "It'd be nice to have more visitors, all the same."
"Well," Eames says. "This has been a scintillating conversation, ta very much, we'll leave you to your brooding-"
"You came for the Goblet of Destiny? You can take it."
Arthur and Eames stop.
"Is this a trap?" Arthur asks.
"What does it matter?" The dragon shakes its enormous head despondently. "We're all pieces on some cosmic chessboard, dreamed up by a fickle creator. Might as well drink and escape into the void."
"This is not quite the note of victory I wished to end my quest on," Eames says as he takes the Goblet off the pedestal.
"One last celebratory screw before we drink?" Arthur offers.
"I suppose that would cheer me up." Eames glances up at the dragon. "Perhaps in another room, though."
Eames gives Arthur's lovely cock one last ride before tucking it back under the fur loincloth. "I've enjoyed traveling with you a great deal, sexy shepherd Arthur. I'm glad we embarked upon this journey together to many climaxes."
Arthur, still flat on the ground and panting, gives Eames a thumbs up.
"To destiny," Eames toasts, then drinks from the cup.
His vision goes black, and he wakes up.
* * * * *
"What just happened?" Arthur says upon opening his eyes.
"We shared a rather unique dream experience." Eames sits up and examines the front of his trousers, which are clean. More than a trifle surprising, given the sheer number of orgasms he experienced while asleep. His cock does ache with a pent up desire to come, however.
"I was a sexy shepherd and you were half goat," Arthur says. "Were we having the same dream?"
"It would appear so." Eames eyes the flatteringly large tent in Arthur's trousers. "Our subconscious minds may have been attempting to tell us something."
Arthur stands and stretches, seeming entirely aware of Eames' attention. "That we should fuck like talking animals, ASAP?"
"I was going to say that we were both in need of hydration, but fucking like talking animals works as well," Eames says.
And so they do.
The end.
Thanks to: sibilantly
Written for i_reversebang and skipping_pledge's wonderful art.
Wordcount: 3200
Eames' furry, pointed ears perk up: a short distance away is the unmistakable sound of a handsome human singing. It's a rather nice baritone that can actually carry a tune, which makes it even better.
He follows the sound through the lush forest to a secluded blue pond, fringed by some rather suggestively shaped cattails. There is indeed a gorgeous man seductively sluicing water over his naked body while humming the theme to the Harry Potter movies. Eames decides to settle in behind the bushes for some quality voyeurism.
Unfortunately, he trips over a log and rolls headfirst into the water, promptly ruining that plan.
The bathing man turns, not bothering to cover an inch of silky smooth skin, and asks, "Who goes there?"
Eames stands and brushes stray leaves out of his chest fur. "It is I, Eames the Satyr. And who are you?"
"Arthur, a simple shepherd of the peasant village Dullington," Arthur replies. He points at Eames' turgid member, clearly visible given Eames' nudity (Satyrs don't wear clothing, after all). "Is that for me?"
"Not specifically, no. It's always like that," Eames replies. "Part of my Satyric nature. But even if I didn't have a constant erection, I would very much like to have sex with you. It's why I was watching you bathe from the bushes."
"I could be into that," Arthur says. "But before I fuck a total stranger of a different species in the woods, I like to ask where he's going in the literal and non-metaphorical sense. Therefore: where are you going?"
"I'm on a quest to drink from the Goblet of Destiny."
"How fascinating," Arthur says. "When I was a baby, there was a prophecy which foretold that bathing in the forest that would lead me to my destiny."
"You've been bathing for a while, I take it?"
"I have. My fingers and toes have gone all pruney." Arthur holds them up as proof. "But it sounds like you're my cue to stop washing myself in a seductive manner. Your goblet must be the destiny that was foretold."
"Sounds about right," Eames agrees, hoping this will all lead to a blowjob. He'd settle for a handjob, though. "You're welcome to join me on my quest, if you'd like."
"Alright." Arthur wades out of the water, glistening in the sun like a chiseled god. "Is the Goblet of Destiny the key to saving the world?"
"No, but I hear it's filled with the best wine in the world," Eames says.
Arthur shrugs. "I like wine. You want a pruney handjob?"
Eames does.
* * * * *
After a rousing exchange of handjobs, Eames and Arthur set off. Arthur puts on clothing, sadly, because human feet and skin are terribly delicate. At least it's a very tight shepherd's outfit with a startling amount of cleavage.
"What's with the pan flute?" Arthur says, pointing at the pipe instrument dangling around Eames' neck.
"Oh, you know, I play provocative songs upon it to tempt mortals into orgies," Eames replies. "Also, wind instruments keep my lips limber for spectacular blowjobs. Not to mention the breath control."
"I'm not sure I should simply believe you like some country rube," Arthur says. "I may have to verify for myself."
"I stand behind my claims," Eames says, licking his lips as he undoes the front of Arthur's trousers.
After Eames has put to use his breath control and Arthur demonstrated some of his own techniques in return, they start walking again.
"Now, I have to admit that I've never fully understood the point of prophecies," Eames says, jaw pleasantly sore. "Are they meant to be helpful? Because the ones I've heard are so vague and obscure they're virtually useless."
"I think they're mostly useful for causing people to do things that otherwise wouldn't make much sense."
"Right, like joining up with a complete stranger on a quest," Eames replies as they round the corner to the location of the first clue to the Goblet of Destiny. It's a gnarled old tree around which a store has been built, proudly named: Adventurer's Sex Supply Shop.
There's a portly woman, presumably the shopkeeper, standing at the door and bellowing at prospective customers. "Come inside to solve the ancient riddle! And while you're at it, shop! All the latest fashions in fur loincloths and chainmail bikinis sold here!"
"I may be a sheltered shepherd from an incomparably boring village, but this seems like a fantastic combination of arboreal mystery and commerce," Arthur says.
"Ah yes, welcome, welcome," the shopkeeper replies, beckoning them in. "I, too, hail from an incredibly tedious little village. In the aimless wanderings of my youth, I saw dozens of would-be fortune hunters stop at this tree and spotted a business opportunity. Also, an ideal excuse to leave my hometown for good."
"I left to help a Satyr get drunk, so I hear you," Arthur says as they step inside and start examining her wares. "You don't sell any non-sexy armor or food here?"
"Used to," she shrugs. "But almost all my sales came from lube packets, condoms, and erotic armaments. So I figured, hey, let's give the horny people what they want. Hence, a shop for all a swashbuckler's sexual needs was born."
"We do have many needs," Eames says.
"If you're interested in a snack, I do carry aphrodisiacs like chocolate, bananas, and chocolate covered bananas. Not to mention the ever popular edible underwear, candy thongs, and whipped cream bras."
"Your tits would look great in a whipped cream bra," Arthur says to Eames, who preens and doesn't disagree.
"And you would look bloody fantastic in a fur loincloth," Eames says, holding up a narrow triangle of cloth decorated with a growling wolf's face.
Arthur considers the loincloth and heads into the dressing room to change. He comes out a minute later, naked but for the artfully placed wolf face. "Do you think I should switch to adventuring in this?"
Eames circles Arthur to admire the view of his chest, his legs, and especially his arse, which is on full display. "Absolutely, yes. You'll terrify your enemies with the allusion to your bestial nature and inspire wild lust in nearby Satyrs."
"I do enjoy ravishing Satyrs," Arthur says as he goes to haggle with the shopkeeper. He returns with a gift for Eames as well.
"A jeweled cockring?" Eames asks. "Darling, how did you know?"
"It's the one cockring to rule them all." Arthur helps Eames try it on in the dressing room with a maximum amount of groping. It takes a rather long time, and Eames finds himself on his back with legs in the air.
"I'm not quite sure what my arse has to do with the cockring," Eames pants as Arthur fucks him splendidly with his fingers. "Not that I'm complaining."
"Nothing, really. I'm just testing the efficacy of my loincloth," Arthur replies.
"Two hundred percent efficacious," Eames declares as he comes with a happy sigh. He returns the favor on his knees and swallows, so as not to muss up Arthur's brand new garment.
After neatening up, they walk to the very back of the shop where the tree is located. The riddle is etched into the trunk in a long dead language. Luckily, underneath is a handy plaque with a translation: What can be polished by hand, thrust into bodies, and is harder than a rock?
"A cock?" Arthur suggests after a moment of puzzling at it. Nothing happens.
"A tumescent cock?" Eames offers. Nothing.
"A dildo?"
"A jewel-encrusted dildo?" Still nothing.
"I don't think we're very good at riddles unless they're dirty ones," Arthur says. Eames is forced to agree.
The shopkeeper drifts over. "Since you two are currently my favorite customers, I'll give you an exclusive deal: buy one more item in my shop and I'll throw in the answer for free!"
"Well," Eames says. "I was interested in that magical talking prostate massager."
"Ah yes, one of our most popular toys," she replies. "It comes with three personality settings ranging from humiliating dirty talk to tender word-snuggles. If you're playing with a partner, it's like having a threesome with fewer complicated feelings involved!"
"I do enjoy word-snuggles," Eames says.
"Who doesn't?" she replies as she rings him up. "Congratulations on your excellent purchase. The answer to the riddle is 'The sword in the stone' and please come again! In all senses of the phrase."
They return to the tree. Eames repeats the password, which prompts a ghostly woman to appear and announce, "In the field of wildflowers where unicorns frolic, you shall find the sword buried in a tight, round stone. Remove it and be rewarded with the next secret spot on your journey to climax, which in your case means the Goblet of Destiny."
The figure vanishes and Arthur leers at Eames. "I'll show you a sword."
"Oh yes." Eames spreads his legs eagerly. "Please do."
* * * * *
They set off for the Wildflower Field of Unicorns, which takes two days to reach from the Adventurer's Sex Supply Shop. It's actually only a few hours' walk, but Eames accidentally drifts behind Arthur and becomes too distracted by the sight of bare arse to navigate properly.
They also make several stops to use the talking prostate massager and ensure all the various personality settings work. It really is like having a threesome with fewer complicated feelings involved.
Upon reaching the field, they wade through floral vegetation that comes up to their waists. The pollen causes Eames to sneeze more or less incessantly, which earns them disapproving looks from the unicorns frolicking about. In the middle of the clearing is a sword embedded in a round stone with a rather familiar cleft.
"Is that yours?" Eames says, taking to a moment to admire the curves of the stone and compare them with Arthur's arse.
"No, I'm positive that's yours," Arthur says, encouraging Eames to bend over so he can make a more thorough comparison.
Some time later, they get around to trying to extract the sword from the stone. It turns out not to be as easy as it looks.
Arthur tries first: yanking, pushing, and finally cursing it. Eames tries pulling, then wiggling, and eventually cursing it as well.
A nearby unicorn observes their struggles and trots over. "You're doing it wrong," it informs them in a voice like twinkling wind chimes on a sunny day.
"Oh yeah? Why don't you try pulling it out?" Arthur says, somewhat belligerently. Only somewhat, though. They are still talking to a unicorn, after all.
The unicorns rolls its eyes. "Because I lack opposable thumbs, duh. Anyway, you can't just start grabbing at a hilt and expect it to go somewhere. You need to use some finesse. Massage a little, warm up before you really start going at it."
"So we need to tease the sword until it's overwhelmed with desire," Eames says. "Then we can remove it?"
"Exactly. And they say Satyrs are too dumb to learn," the unicorn coos in a baby voice, giving Eames' ear a fond nip. "Who's not a stupid Satyr? Who?"
Using some of the lube packets at the bottom of their Bag of Holding, Eames proceeds to rub the hilt until it's flushed and practically purring in his palm. Together, they ease the sword out of the stone while it hums with contentment.
"That was surprisingly erotic," Eames says as he gives his own cock a few strokes; no point wasting good lube, after all.
Arthur licks his lips as he eyes Eames' cock. "Yes. And it's nearly nightfall, so we might as well make camp for the night."
Eames lays down on a bed of crushed wildflowers (not as comfortable as it sounds) while Arthur climbs on top. Although most of his attention is focused on Arthur riding him, out of the corner of his eye he can see a whole herd of unicorns gathered round to observe.
"Perhaps we ought to put up our tent?" Eames suggests, groaning when Arthur works his hips just so. "Feels a bit weird with these unicorns watching us."
"In a minute," Arthur replies, breathless as he chases his own orgasm. "Close your eyes and pretend they're robots."
Eames closes his eyes even though the idea of robot unicorns is singularly terrifying, and ignores the sound of unicorns chewing flower petals as he comes.
* * * * *
The next morning, after some intense cuddling along with a stream of compliments regarding its intelligence and beauty, the sword is persuaded to reveal the location of the next trial: the Saucy Tavern.
The Saucy Tavern is a wooden building filled with warmth, delicious food, and scantily clad serving men. Arthur and Eames avail themselves of the hearty stew and beers on tap before heading into the side room where the third trial awaits.
"The third trial is a test of bravery," a bored attendant intones while picking at her nails. "He who has the courage to engage the glory hole shall gain entrance to the Castle of Ennui and the Goblet of Destiny."
Eames and Arthur stare at the wooden wall with a dick-sized hole carved into it. Peering into the hole reveals nothing, as it's completely dark and impossible to see what's behind it.
"What's on the other side?" Arthur asks the attendant, who shrugs.
Eames stares down at the hole. "Is it humanoid, at least?"
"The third trial is a test of bravery," the attendant repeats. "He who has the courage to engage-"
"Yes, we got it, thanks," Arthur interrupts. "You can't tell us anything about what's on the other side because that would ruin the test."
The attendant chews her gum loudly.
"We've only known each other a short while, but I can state confidently that you are far more courageous than I," Eames says. "You should do the honors and fulfill your destiny."
"Yeah, but you're already erect," Arthur points out.
"Damnit," Eames says. "Foiled by my perpetual erection again."
Eames gingerly eases his dick into the hole and squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the dreaded sensation of teeth. Luckily, what he receives instead is a hot wet mouth and a great deal of tongue. It's not the best blowjob he's ever received, but it's not the worst either. Considering he's receiving it via a hole in the wall, Eames has no complaints.
After he orgasms, the glory hole magically widens to reveal a tunnel down into the earth.
"Hark, the fearless explorer has survived the final trial," the attendant says, reading off a paper script in monotone. "Behold: the secret passage to the Castle of Ennui where the Goblet of Destiny awaits. Sally forth, and travel with the blessings of the Saucy Tavern upon you."
The scantily clad serving men enter the room, clad even more scantily than before.
"I think they want you to show them your secret passage," Arthur comments, and Eames is more than happy to oblige.
* * * * *
An enjoyable round of bukkake later, Eames and Arthur head down into the tunnel beneath the Saucy Tavern. It is suitably spooky, filled with giant cobwebs, flickering blue ghostlights, and an improbable number of unopened treasure chests.
They emerge from the tunnel loaded down in gold chain necklaces and diamond bracelets. The Castle of Ennui appears to be deserted except for a few rats that pause when Eames and Arthur enter the room, only to resume their activities with great indifference.
A few wrong turns later, Eames and Arthur make their way to the throne room, where an enormous red dragon is sleeping, body curved around a marble pedestal upon which rests a plastic goblet.
"Shit," Eames murmurs under his breath as he tries to inch back out of the room, "perhaps it's a friendly dragon?"
One enormous dragon eye opens, and the most melancholy voice imaginable fills the air. "No. I have no friends."
"Er," Eames says, backing away more quickly. "We'll be off, then. Terribly sorry to disturb you."
"Or you could stay," the dragon says, low and tremulous. "Not that you will, I expect. No one ever does."
"To be fair, you are, objectively speaking, a nightmare creature," Eames says.
"I have hopes and desires, too, you know." The dragon heaves a long sigh, smoke issuing in wisps from its nostrils. "Not that anyone can ever see past the superficial to appreciate that."
"Uh, it sounds like you might be going through some stuff," Arthur says. "We actually just came for the Goblet of Destiny."
"I figured as much," the dragon says, flicking its tail at the pedestal. "That's what they always come for. Never me."
"Do you want them to come for you?" Arthur asks. "Because I'm pretty sure anyone who does would be trying to slay you for glory or honor or something."
"Yeah, I guess." The dragon heaves another huge sigh. "It'd be nice to have more visitors, all the same."
"Well," Eames says. "This has been a scintillating conversation, ta very much, we'll leave you to your brooding-"
"You came for the Goblet of Destiny? You can take it."
Arthur and Eames stop.
"Is this a trap?" Arthur asks.
"What does it matter?" The dragon shakes its enormous head despondently. "We're all pieces on some cosmic chessboard, dreamed up by a fickle creator. Might as well drink and escape into the void."
"This is not quite the note of victory I wished to end my quest on," Eames says as he takes the Goblet off the pedestal.
"One last celebratory screw before we drink?" Arthur offers.
"I suppose that would cheer me up." Eames glances up at the dragon. "Perhaps in another room, though."
Eames gives Arthur's lovely cock one last ride before tucking it back under the fur loincloth. "I've enjoyed traveling with you a great deal, sexy shepherd Arthur. I'm glad we embarked upon this journey together to many climaxes."
Arthur, still flat on the ground and panting, gives Eames a thumbs up.
"To destiny," Eames toasts, then drinks from the cup.
His vision goes black, and he wakes up.
* * * * *
"What just happened?" Arthur says upon opening his eyes.
"We shared a rather unique dream experience." Eames sits up and examines the front of his trousers, which are clean. More than a trifle surprising, given the sheer number of orgasms he experienced while asleep. His cock does ache with a pent up desire to come, however.
"I was a sexy shepherd and you were half goat," Arthur says. "Were we having the same dream?"
"It would appear so." Eames eyes the flatteringly large tent in Arthur's trousers. "Our subconscious minds may have been attempting to tell us something."
Arthur stands and stretches, seeming entirely aware of Eames' attention. "That we should fuck like talking animals, ASAP?"
"I was going to say that we were both in need of hydration, but fucking like talking animals works as well," Eames says.
And so they do.
The end.