It's getting hard to bear, watching you all alone

[forakingdom]

They set up camp in the shadow of the place so that Griffith could watch it.

Though the walls were sound and the castle looked whole, even luxurious, no one suggested that they camp inside. There was something about it, a coldness, and the local villagers spoke of ghosts and demons and monsters in the haunted castle. Conflicting stories too outrageous to be real.
Griffith wanted to explore. But even he hesitated at the sight of the dark gate. Perhaps in the morning. Once they were rested.

In the morning, he took the lead with Guts. They left their horses down in camp with most of the band, and took only a small raiding party to investigate.

The castle’s gates were wide open, as if for a festival, and there were even garlands of wilted white flowers and scraps of fluttering white silk festooned around the courtyard. Griffith entered warily, hand on his sword. He kept Guts by his side, though they went a few paces ahead of the others. If they faced down anything supernatural, Griffith wanted to meet it first.

Somehow it wasn’t a surprise when the gates slammed shut behind them. Griffith glanced back, expression tight as they were cut off from the rest of their party, and drew his sword.

“Welcome, my love.”

A figure seemed to melt up out of the rocks, solidifying as if from wax and drawing itself up to a height of more than seven feet, not including the curving horns that grew from its brow. It had dark brown skin with gray and mossy hues distinctly reminiscent of grave pallor and loam. Both the face and the figure had a striking sort of beauty, as if they had been carved from wax and cast in bronze by a master sculptor, though there was something unnatural and unnerving about it. The body was perfect and bare, with no clothing to conceal the heavy phallus that hung between its legs.

It had eyes only for Griffith, who stared at it in stunned shock as it approached, not even lifting his sword to stop it as it reached for him as if to draw him into a lover’s embrace.

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[forakingdom]

There's no mercy, no slowing. The relentless pounding drives him through his orgasm, drawing it out longer and keeping the peaks high and intense, ensuring that he comes out the other side sensitive and craving. His prostate is swollen and throbbing, overwhelmed by the stimulation and eager for more.

Griffith cries out again and again, aftershocks from his orgasm spiking through him as the need rises again, slower but even more desperate. "Guts," he pants, wanting only for him to continue, to be lost in this for aeons longer. He's never had a lover with this kind of stamina before, and he has no idea how much longer Guts will last, whether he himself will pass out before his beloved tires.