Settling Down

A Short Story by Bo Blackstar

[m/f, fantasy, public sex, goofy roleplaying, heavyset male, implied communism]

The Hog Wash was not what most would consider a “refined” establishment. The sign above the door depicting a pig dousing itself with a flagon of ale was fairly honest in its advertisement of the place’s purpose and patrons. One wouldn’t have to ask around very much to hear of the tavern’s reputation for jovial company and good food, however. A few caravan masters took the route that ran past the Hog Wash instead of others specifically so they could stop in for the house’s signature stew and baked apple dessert. The resulting business for the nearby farms and orchards was something the locals had come to rely on.

It was here that Cienne had started a new chapter of her life; a chapter that it was finally time to close. The woman had sat in this same spot six years ago, hardly an adult. She’d had her long, brown hair up in what she’d thought at the time was a very stately-looking bun, dressed in trousers that were too tight and a blouse that was too loose, having no idea what she was doing but ready to strike out on her own anyway.

Cienne smiled into her mug, remembering the uncertainty on Targ’s face as she’d pleaded for the adventurer to take her on, touting her nimbleness and eagerness to learn. Neither of them had really thought it would work out, certainly not as well as it had. Who could have guessed that a tailor’s daughter, shunned by her hometown, would be able to pick a lich’s pocket, or unlock a chest containing a long-dead king’s riches?

The life of a treasure-seeking adventurer had been a rich and fulfilling one, but all good things must come to an end. Preferably before one’s life, Cienne reasoned. You didn’t see a lot of middle-aged adventurers for good reason. When your income is based on plundering dungeons, you either retire or die and leave your loot for the next heroes to find. It was time for Cienne to do the former. She had her eyes set on an apple orchard not far from the Hog Wash. Buying it outright would hardly cut into her considerable stash, and she’d always been a big fan of cider. Why not settle down here, where she’d set out years before? There was a poetry in that. Maybe the folks here would be more accepting of her particular peculiarities than her family and friends back home had been. And if they weren’t, Cienne was now wise enough and rich enough that it didn’t really matter what people thought. At least, that’s what she told herself.

Another grunt was heard, and Cienne glanced back to the bar. It was late, with few patrons still around. The barkeep, Bruk, had been listening to the outlandish, cyclical story of an intoxicated merchant for the last hour. Bruk was a patient man, but even he would have cut the inebriated patron off by now if it wasn’t a friend of the Hog Wash’s owner. Bruk leaned his large frame against the bar, busying his hands with small cleaning tasks while nodding along with the aimless story. A polite but strained smile was still framed by the barkeep’s dark beard, a testament to his temperament, but now his affirmations had devolved into base grunts and commiserating groans. Cienne watched the man out of the corner of her eye while she lifted her mug back to her full lips, the wheels turning in her head. Bruk was a fine and honest man. A little older, a widower, a fair bit rounder and harrier than most, sure. But Cienne remembered his smile and his kindness from years ago. He’d even remembered her when she’d showed up again. Plus, as a barkeep the man had probably seen and heard enough to have an open mind.

The drunken merchant rattled off an anecdotal complaint about ogres for the seventh time, and Bruk’s confirming grunt came out as more of a growl this time.

Cienne chugged the last of her hard cider and pushed herself out of her seat. She ran her fingers through her now-shoulder-length hair and headed for the bar with a sway in her step, broad hips and unbound bust bouncing. The ex-adventurer passed by the shitfaced merchant, and as she did so she tapped him on the left shoulder, putting her right arm around him as he turned left to look at her.

“Sorry, need to grab this good man’s attention for a moment,” she smiled at the slack-jawed face of the trader. He was too busy processing words and nodding to notice her drop something into his latest drink.

“What can I do for you, miss?” Bruk asked. The two of them took a few steps down the bar to get a comfortable distance from the talkative drunkard, who had in fact continued talking.

“Hm, well. Let’s see…” Cienne mused. She leaned on the bar, resting her elbows and breasts on the old oak, the latter more exposed than might be considered appropriate due to the undone laces at the top of her blouse. The wealthy rogue pushed her lips into a pout while she overturned her mug, a scant few drops of the cider spattering onto Bruk’s clean bar. “For one thing, my mug seems to be empty.

The barkeep smiled, his naturally beaming expression revealed after almost an hour of dormancy. “Well, that’s simple enough,” he laughed, and poured her another mug of the potent apple goodness. “Anything else?” Bruk asked, not ready to return to his previous engagement. He looked down the bar, and was surprised to see the merchant collapsed and snoring into a puddle of his own drool. “Huh.”

Cienne took a couple gulps from her fresh mug. “Hm, what else, let me think… I guess you could bend me over this bar and fuck me right here and now. That’d actually be great.” She watched him over the mug as she took another drink.

For a moment Bruk seemed to have been transformed into a statue of himself, then he let out a hardy laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “That, ah… Flattered, miss. Don’t think Profi would care much for that, I’m afraid.”

“Who?”

“The owner, miss.”

A cough came from the opposite end of the bar. “I won’t tell anybody,” Mic offered. The peach farmer with the outrageous mustache was one of the only other patrons in left in the place.

The man next to him, a bald carpenter named Noll, nodded enthusiastically. “And I’ll tell everybody. That way, nobody will believe it.”

Bruk laughed again, shaking his head. “Sorry fellas, miss. Much as I am a fun-loving man, having sex on the bar is the sort of thing that loses a man his job.”

“Bah, you’re an essential service,” Cienne declared, draining a bit more from her mug. “Besides, who needs a job when you’re rich?”

“I’m not rich, miss.”

“I am.”

Bruk cocked his head to one side, his smile going lopsided. “I don’t…”

“I’m going to buy the old Eastwick orchard,” Cienne announced. “Settle down, finally figure out how to bake, I don’t know.” She reached into a pouch on her hip and slapped a large red stone down on the bar. “You see that? That’s a ruby the size of your fist! Well, my fist, anyway. Nobody argues with that. Nobody tells that what it can and can’t do in a bar.”

She slid the gem down the bar, where Mic caught it and shared a confused look with Noll. Her cheeks rosy from the cider and excitement, Cienne climbed up onto the bar and sat with her legs on either side of Bruk’s broad frame.

“I just gave it away,” she shrugged. “I got like… three more. I don’t give a fuck. And speaking of which, fuck your job. Fuck all your jobs! I’ll buy everything and burn the deeds! No jobs, just people working. Fuck the whole thing! But most importantly…” She leaned in, pulling her arms together to emphasize her bust as she looked up at the bemused barkeep. “Fuck me. Right now.”

A bit of pink showing in his own cheeks, Bruk cleared his throat. “Look, miss… I know you’ve got money and gems, but this is all a bit…”

“Ugh! You are killing the spontaneity, Bruk! Here, let me help.” Cienne pushed him back a step and slipped behind the bar, sliding to her knees in front of him. Her deft hands made short work of his belt and breeches.

“Hey! You can’t ju-uhn…” The barkeep trailed off and slapped his heavy hands against the bar as the pushy adventurer wrapped her fingers around his cock, pulling it free and letting out a long, warm exhale over it. “Nn, that’s not… Really just going for it, huh?”

Cienne didn’t bother to reply. She was busy nursing the barkeep’s cock to stiffness, stroking with one hand and teasing with the fingertips of the other, feeling the eager throbbing as it grew and hardened. When it achieved a decent heft, she reached in to fondle his balls, giving the sack a squeeze as she traced the tip of her tongue across the shaft. Bruk grunted and gripped the bar harder, letting out a chuckle when she eased off again.

“Easy there,” he urged her, at which point she gave another firm squeeze and he clenched his teeth, growling a bit.

Cienne shuddered and took his cock into her mouth, rolling her tongue around the head and along the underside. She continued to work one hand around the base, but the other was reassigned to diving into her own trousers and rubbing broad circles around her clit.

“I love this place,” Mic said under his breath.

“To the Hog Wash!” Noll cried, raising his flagon. Mic joined in and they toasted the establishment.

Bruk couldn’t help but laugh, though he continued to shake his head and look pleasantly distressed. “You lot drive me to drink,” he sighed, grunting again a moment later when Cienne swallowed another inch. Whispered praise and the snores of the merchant filled the quiet in between the rogue’s muffled moans and the barkeep’s guttural approval of her oral performance.

Cienne pulled away and stood up, leaving her breeches around her ankles. She looked up at the barkeep with naked lust. “Ready now?” she asked, snaking her hands up his shirt to drag her nails across his belly.

With a groan, Bruk ran a hand over his head. Try as he might, he couldn’t suppress his grin. “I… guess?” He turned to Mic and Noll. “Alright, get out. We’re closed. Don’t need an audience.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Noll whined. “Don’t be a party pooper!”

“Yeah,” Mic echoed. “Besides, you might need us, for… moral support.”

Cienne had turned around, wedging her ample backside under Bruk’s gut to rub against his crotch. “I’m waiting…” she teased, grinding the heat of her wet cunt against his stiff cock. Bruk growled, sending a shiver through the rogue.

“This is so unfair,” the barkeep laughed, taking hold of her hips. She reached down to guide him, and seconds later his throbbing hardness pushed into her waiting channel at last.

“I really love this place,” Mic sighed, and chugged the last of his ale.

Already heated, Bruk set to action without much preamble. Cienne leaned on the bar, partially up on her toes while he steadily ground into her.

“Fuck yes…” the retired adventurer exhaled.

“Fuck yes,” Noll affirmed.

Bruk grunted. “You shut up over there.” The barkeep adjusted his angle a few times, fumbling a bit and uncertain what to do with his hands. He wanted to do everything. It had been a while and he was out of practice, but Cienne’s help compensated. Soon enough they found a rhythm and the clap of flesh against flesh rose high with Cienne’s escalating moans and encouragements. She hiked her blouse up to let her breasts free, the soft mounds rubbing along the polished oak of the bar while she groped at them.

Mic elbowed Noll and leaned over to him with a smirk. “Only shame’s now I can’t get another drink.”

Cienne squealed as she was lifted off the bar, Bruk hefting her up and swinging her around.

“Fill a mug from the middle tap there, would you?” the barkeep laughed, his big arms wrapped around her midsection.

“Make it two!” Noll amended.

Cienne giggled and grabbed fresh mugs from the shelf, doing as asked. “There, see? Not even cutting into your business.”

Bruk carried her over to the end of the bar where the spectators sat and set her down again, her bust once more squished against the smooth wood. She slapped down the mugs, spilling a bit of ale in the process, and grinned brightly.

“I’m a barkeep now,” she told them, letting out a sharp gasp as Bruk got back into the steady rhythm inside her. “Tell me your wo-hnnm… Tell me your woes, gentlemen.”

“Can’t think of a damn one at the moment, miss,” Mic confessed, leaning back a bit to better take in the spectacle while he sipped from his new mug.

“I’m getting concerned for my marriage,” Noll chuckled.

“Your lady would leave you for this?” Cienne asked.

The carpenter shook his head. “Not for watching, but for you? Just maybe.” He laughed into his mug and slapped his thigh.

Cienne cackled. “Just tell her I’m taken.” She slumped forward, biting her lip as Bruk gripped her by the shoulder and deepened his thrusting.

“You are?” Bruk asked, breath starting to become labored.

“From behind, at the moment,” Cienne moaned, looking back over her shoulder. “And… in general? Yes? Maybe?”

“We’ll talk,” Bruk sighed, then took a deep breath before continuing with renewed strength.

Cienne dropped her head against the bar again, reaching back to scratch and grasp at his hip and belly while he railed into her.

“I bet you can’t keep yourself raised on your arms while he does that,” Mic challenged.

The ex-adventurer grinned and pushed herself upright, her tits now swinging and bouncing beneath her with each vigorous thrust from the portly barkeep. Mic and Noll clinked mug and drank while they watched. Soon there was sweat beading on Bruk’s face, and his thrusting stuttered.

“Getting close,” he warned through clenched teeth.

“Nnngh… Growl!” Cienne cried, dropping to one elbow so she could reach down to rub her clit with swift strokes. “Squeeze me hard and growl like a fucking bear!”

Bruk stumbled again as he burst out laughing. “You are… nuts,” he told her. “And I love it.” After a moment to adjust his stance, the beaming barkeep grabbed Cienne around the waist, squeezing hard, and snarled as he hammered into her with the rest of his strength.

“Yeah, get her, Bruk!” Noll cheered.

“Give her what she wants!” Mic howled.

Bruk’s animal growl intensified as he fucked the happy rogue with all he had. Mic and Noll started clapping in time with the slap of his hips against her ass, growing quicker and quicker.

“Fuck!” Cienne cried out, dropping onto the bar with a shudder, her hand gripping the far edge for dear life while she writhed and trembled through the last leg of Bruk’s assault. The barkeep nearly thought he wouldn’t be able to finish before collapsing, but in a final desperate push he peaked and emptied himself into the slick heat of the rogue’s quivering pussy.

The sweaty pair slumped and caught their breath, Bruk leaning heavily against the back wall.

Mic grinned and shook his head. “Man, Profi would be pissed.”

“Fuck Poffi, then,” Cienne mumbled.

“Profi,” Bruk corrected. “The owner.”

“Yeah her,” Cienne nodded, standing upright. “I’m calling in a favor.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Lord Barthus Kramhu III,” Profi read, blue eyes glaring at the page as if it had insulted her, thin lips pulled into a tight scowl. “In honor of past heroism in service to his lands, payment of decades advance in taxes, negotiated trade tariffs, and upon promise of equitable contribution to regional harvests, does hereby recognize the establishment and sovereignty of the Commonwealth of…” She squinted at the page. “Thotton? What the hell is all this?”

Bruk instinctively recoiled from the wiry woman’s piercing gaze, but Cienne stood between them in the empty common room of the Hog Wash.

“Your local holdings have been incorporated by the new government,” the ex-adventurer explained. “The fat bags of gold and silver in the carriage out there are your compensation.”

Profi’s eye twitched. “If you think I’m just going to let you take my businesses and walk away…”

“Your threats are tired and I have no interest in hearing a monologue,” Cienne groaned. “Got enough of that shit with the Red Fiend of Haverton. You’re done, Miss T’Monger. Bruk and I are gonna fuck now. You can stay if you want, I guess.”

The former owner was about to respond, but was given pause. Cienne managed to whip off her blouse and expose her supple tits with an exuberant bounce so swiftly it seemed to take no longer than the blink of an eye. In another moment Bruk was up behind her, belly pressed into her back as he reached around to gather her soft orbs in his thick hands. The barkeep leaned down to clamp his teeth on Cienne’s ear, giving her a little snarl the way she liked so much.

Profi stormed out, spouting some implausible curse as she left, but the pair didn’t notice. Cienne was swaying in front of Bruk, trying to push her butt under his gut without bending out of reach of his groping. She twisted herself in an attempt to kiss him while keeping her back to him, and that awkward arrangement persisted until Bruk hefted the topless rogue over his shoulder and carried her into the back room where he slept. Where they slept.

“Oh no~!” Cienne cried in mock protest. “Help~! The mean man-beast has kidnapped me with nefarious intentions~!”

Bruk gave her ass a jovially vigorous smack and put on his troll-who-smokes-too-much voice. “Quiet you,” he grumbled past his grin. “I tell lady when she can scream, bwa ha ho ho ho…” He dropped her onto the bed and flopped down beside her on his back. Cienne was on top of him in an instant.

“Well well,” she teased. “Looks like I’ve got the upper hand now, man-beast.” She started working his shirt up over his belly and rubbing at the roundness.

The barkeep chuckled. “I guess you do. So, what are you going to do now, brave adventurer?”

“Retire with the spoils of my victory, obviously,” Cienne answered. With some effort and cooperation, both were freed from their clothes in the next minute. They kissed for a while, fondling one another and riding the high of each other’s company.

“Are you sure we know what we’re doing?” Bruk asked. “I mean with the commonwealth thing. This still seems like an impractical dream.”

Cienne shrugged. “Seems to do well enough for the halflings. Don’t worry. We’ve talked to people, we’ll get help, we’ll make it work. Now stop distracting me! I can’t afford to drop my guard around this dangerous man-beast…” With her fingers wrapped around Bruk’s cock, Cienne slowly turned her head to look away. “Oh dear, what was that? An innocuous but very distracting noise? Hmm…”

Bruk let out a happy roar, rolling a bit to halfway pin Cienne to the bed. “Foolish hero!” he snarled, snickering under his breath. “Now you will be devoured!”

Cienne squealed as he made good on his threat, shifting around until he could bury his face between her legs. He hadn’t been the most practiced lover, but Cienne was a very good coach, and he was learning all the little ways to drive her crazy. He would grunt and growl while sucking at her clit, scrape his teeth through her folds, and grab at her possessively while he ate her out. He even wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her bottom from the bed, leaving her partially hanging as he assaulted her flower with his tongue.

They traded advantage several times. Cienne subdued the man-beast with her “flute playing,” only to wind up with hands on the side of her head holding her in place while the beast claimed her throat. She once more turned the tide, riding the rotund beast like a common steed, until she was overpowered and put on her back. Bruk pushed her knees up near her shoulders, his belly resting on her inner thighs while he railed the ex-adventurer to the tune of her cries and laughter.

In the end, the battle between woman and man-beast was declared a draw. He held her close while the caught their breath. Cienne picked and scratched absently at his beard.

Bruk chuckled to himself. “Sometimes I still wonder why I let you turn my life on its head.”

“Your life was already on its head,” Cienne answered. “You just didn’t realize it until I came along. Also, sex.”

“I’d word it differently,” he said.

“Oh yeah? How?”

Bruk kissed her on the forehead. “I’d say… you make me happy. In a lot of ways.”

“Ooh, look at Mister Sappy Poet over here,” Cienne mocked. She buried her face in his fluffy chest, squeezed him tightly, and added under her breath. “Thank you. For… loving me.”

He kissed the top of her head and held her close. No more words were needed.