Briar Patch (Darkest Dungeon, M/F)

Two figures huddled around a campfire.  They were on an expedition to chart the underground tunnels in one of the darkest corners of the earth, a task in an accumulative effort to find and eliminate the source of the gloom that shrouded the land.  It was futile, as the maze-like caverns warped and changed on their own volition every couple of days.  Nonetheless, the pay was good, and that alone led countless adventures to their meaningless deaths in this forsaken place.

Out of a starting party of four, the pair were the only surviving members at the end of the day.  The sector they were sent to map out was just about completed, but they hoped to finish it after licking their wounds for the night and coming to terms with the deaths of their fellow companions.  They were a ragtag bunch that managed to survive a handful of jobs scouring this cesspit together.  Yet, like everyone else who came here, their luck was bound to run out one day.  The two wondered if they would even wake up in the morning in one piece.  It was quiet for now at their camp, but eldritch horrors could squirm out the cracks at a moment's notice.

The expedition's leader, a knight sent on a holy mission by the church, rested wearily on his bedroll.  Kneeling beside him was the squad's healer, busying herself with mending his wounds.  He couldn't tell how much of toll this was taking on her.  Her birdlike mask obscured whatever expression she had, and she had kept eerily silent ever since the other half of the party had perished.

She treatments were rougher than usual.   The bandages were too tight, her suturing was imprecise, and her foul ointments stung worse than any cuts he had endured so far.  Seeing him writhing in pain,  the doctor rummaged around in her robes and produced a small vial.  Opiatic vapors, she claimed.  Just something to take the edge off after such a harsh day.  Normally, as a man of the church, he abstained from such substances. However, the stress he felt, both physically and mentally, strained heavily on his soul.  She popped the cork and held the vial close to the front slits of his visor.

With one whiff, he was out like a light.

She watched his sprawled out form for a moment.  It was hard to tell how much of a dose to give, as his precise stature was always marred by his armor.  Too much would completely relax his muscles, and she couldn't have any of that.

From her pack, she rolled out a leather bundle containing a wide array of clean syringes and ampoules.  She measured out a dose of one substance and administered it to him.  It would take a while for its effects to show, but she had the whole night to work with.  No point in rushing it now.

If not for the menagerie of herbs and perfumes she doused herself with, people could have smelled her excitement from a mile away.  It was a constant hex that she could not fully cure, and the only known treatment for it has been rather restricted ever since she was banned from the local town's brothel.  Insatiable, they said.  They were amateurs.  Can't expect professionals in this wretched neck of the woods, after all.

She hiked up her robes.  The knight had the right idea to keep his armor on at all times.  She didn't want to completely strip in a place like this, even if the idea excited her greatly.  Her thighs were slick and her silken lingerie was utterly sopping from arousal.  She was clean-shaven, save for a small fiery tuft on the top of her slit.  Allowing any more hair than that would only make her scent overpowering.  She undid the lace on her panties, and as they fell to the ground, they were followed by several beads, idols, and other small trinkets that she had pent up inside of her.  Many smooth and concealable artifacts were found in her treks, and they offered a small reprise for what she had to endure.

Her legs were starting to buckle in excitement.  It had been far too long since she felt the warm flesh of another.  Her concoction had taken hold on her prey, as his tabard now pitched an undulating tent.  She stripped off his belt, and his member sprung free from its padded bindings.  Drug-fueled, it stood as a mighty example of a man, wasted upon a vow of chastity.  There was a brief flash of guilt felt by the girl as she mulled over breaking such a holy oath, though it was quickly replaced by the joy of corrupting such protected innocence.  It's not like he'll ever know he lost his virginity.

His breathing was starting to become troubled, but she had her medications close at hand if the need arose.  Slowly, she straddled the knight, gyrating her entrance around his throbbing tip before lowering her hips.  In the state she was in, she easily took him to the hilt, leading straight to a long pent-up orgasm crashing through her.  Regaining her composure, she grinded against him, getting a feel of his length and shape before pounding his holy lance in a perfectly-measured tempo.  She had to savor this.  As badly as she wanted to completely go wild, danger still stirred in the encroaching darkness.  At the very least, her mask muffled some of her more vocal yelps.

She paused once more as she felt his virgin seed gush against her cervix.  It was almost precious, taking a lifetime of ascetic frustration from his shoulders.  He was still hard after his climax, of course.  He would probably be stiff well until the morning with the dose he took.  Anguished groans began to creep through his helmet as the doctor rode him straight through his refractory period.  How she wished such an opportunity arose in better conditions.  She wanted to experience him in every way she could.  In her mouth, between her cleavage, through her rear.  It was an utter that she could not leave a more evident mark on the man.

In his addled dreams, the knight felt like hell had awakened all around him.  Demons soared and howled in tongues no man could understand, dragging away his fallen friends.  A harpy composed of fire and thorns had pinned him down, and through her prickled legs he felt his life being ebbed away.  He blindly groped around for his sword, only to feel her talons dig deeper into his flesh. The claws clasped his very soul, and his mind dissipated into the abyss.

When he awoke, he felt as if he had not slept a wink. The entire night was a nightmarish blur to him.   Incense burned next to his head, and its scent mingled with the smell of last night's leftovers being heated on the waning embers of the campfire.  The doctor, on the other hand, was strangely chipper.  She greeted him with a warm breakfast and a tincture for his drowsiness.

In a change of pace, she led the way for the rest of the expedition, marching through the tunnels in a slightly awkward gait as he haggardly followed behind her. Through either luck or godly favor, they had not a bit of trouble finishing their mission, and lived to see the light of day once more.  Although, the knight could never figure out what happened to the baubles he found on that trek, nor could he explain the rash that formed on his crotch a week later.