Aliessas Gargoyle Memories

Aliessa's Gargoyle story

by Aliessa

This is a sexually explicit story. If you're under the age of 18 please get the hell off this page. In addition, I didn't pull a lot of punches in this story. This accurately reflects my memories and my feelings when I'm in bed with one particular lover.

Thanks --Aliessa--


Dusk fell on the small valley, and the cottage exterior dimmed as he flexed his wings back to swoop down and land in the yard. He had been to this place so many times before, it was as familiar as his hands. Dusky blue like slate, muscle and sinew tipped with talons, one reached out to open the door.

He had to fold his wings flat to enter, dip his head slightly and fall back on his haunches to go inside, he was that large. He barely noticed that he led with one shoulder before his body went in, he had many a scrape with the frame as he had reached maturity.

She was not in the foyer. He Felt for her and knew she was in the root cellar, a place he no longer fit into, not for long long years. He unfurled himself slightly, more space inside for his height and bredth.

He grinned at himself a little self-consciously that he was already getting excited, after scanning for her and touching her even so briefly as to tell where she was.


She was in the root cellar, slender and wispy tall like a willow, a basket in hand to collect tubers for tonight's meal, when the door to the cottage opened and she Felt his probe into her mind. Her heart swelled and her hands trembled on the basket. Her knees weakened somewhat and she put up a mental wall and gathered her wits. She hurried to get more food into the basket so she could go back upstairs, trying not to drop anything, and failing.

She shoved the basket up the well-lit hole into the kitchen and slid it over to the side of the ladder, gathered her skirts in her teeth and climbed the rough rungs. Once in the kitchen she dumped the whole basket of tubers into a pot of boiling water haphazardly, and absently brushed aside the red gold wild locks this form possessed, as familiar to her as her birth form.

This form was smooth-skinned, alabaster-white, with hair of spun red-gold which had a life of its own. She was proud of her hair, vain about this form unlike her birth form. But he preferred her to be in her birth form when he saw her, so she untied her skirts and left them in a pile on the floor of the kitchen, and pulled her blouse over her head. Aside from being far too small, the clothes were too formal anyway, and eventually would just get in the way, but the chill of departing winter in the kitchen was too much for the unprotected hide of an elf, so she wore them to wear the form.

A thought and a twist of power, she reached deep inside herself and let her body resume its natural form, about a foot taller than her elven form, straight and wiry hair which flowed in a smooth cascade down her back where her wings re-grew, simple batlike leathery wings, but quite large. Her skin blended from alabaster to cream to tawny sand tones and roughened giving it a stone-like appearance. Talons grew from her fingertips, her eartips shortened, and her legs twisted nearly backwards.

She was still shorter than the archways and doorframes, and quite slender for her species, but needed to fold in her wings to navigate the halls and doorways to get to the foyer where he waited.

He turned when she reached the archway and her mind attempted to encompass the whole view of him, an impossibility for her because she kept parceling out her favorite parts and toying with memories of what each part had done to her, or she had done to it, and her knees weakened again, she leaned on the doorframe languidly and gave him a catty look, and met his gaze.

His eyes seized her, they always did, and wrestled her down roughly to insert his member in her rhythmically, and it went in as deep as her soul, which burned like fire. And that was just the effect of looking into his eyes.

She burned for him, and her pride wouldn't let her simply fall at his feet and beg him to take her, so she languidly reached up and put her hand through her hair, willing it to not tremble with desire.

"You're back..." she said, the barest hint of a question.

"Yes, I...realized that I was wrong." Her walls trembled as if attacked by siege engines. Every word a blast of a cannon. Their eyes locked again, she fought the tears.

"I forgive you...I can't not forgive you," she admitted. "But you got as far as flying away..."

"I know."

The silence ached.

"Dinner is cooking..." she invited softly.

"Thank you," he accepted, stepping forward with his taloned hand outstretched, she already met him halfway, nearly falling out of the doorway to touch him again. When their skin met, their minds did, the last of the walls falling away in disrepair, and neither resisted the pull like a magnetic force to wind up in each others arms, to kiss.

Her breath failed her, coming and going in sharp gasps and brief huffs, and he grew hard against her boggling her ability to think and crippling her further.


When she languidly leaned against the plaster and clay frame of the door he knew exactly why he'd come back. She had given in some, wearing her true form and stark naked to boot, a double whammy that brought his second brain to the decision that he would give some apology or it would kill him. Her gaze focused and pierced his eyes, an inviting soft orifice behind taloned hands which grasped his hips to guide him to it, enveloped him in soft sweet madness and musk perfume. But that was just her gaze meeting his own.

He said what his lips were compelled to say from his heart when she inquired softly after his presence. Perhaps it was the posturings of sentient beings inhibiting their animal urges, he brushed the thought aside, accepted the invitation to dinner such as it was, and found his hand reaching out for hers before he even gave it any consideration at all. Such were things between them. She was a fixture in his life, and as willful and stubborn as she was, he was simply unwilling to walk away.

She knew a time before him, however, a past that haunted her and frightened him. He knew it when she clung to him in the darkness or when she woke from a deep sleep and sat bolt upright in the bed. As she stepped to meet his hand he drew her to him, her softer skin against his igniting his desire and he wrapped his arms and wings carefully around her, warding off the memories lest he trigger them, and met her lips for a deep kiss which sucked his soul and merged his mind with hers, marveled at everything she'd seen and done.

The kiss ended and he clung to her, holding back from laying her on the floor and taking her right there, but only barely. Her claws dug into the small of his back, he caressed her longingly and arched his back slightly, his protrusion trying to find way into her soft belly, which extracted a gasping moan from the trembling woman in his arms. His mind flashed to various positions and places...the nest in the masters chamber? the roof? the table? hearthside? just here? He almost decided on the masters chamber when he felt her talons around his member, stroking it solidly. Why maneuver the halls with her in his arms when he could just take her here?


Her mind felt every thought of his as if it were her own, so she made up his mind for him, grasping his member in her hand and stroking it tightly. His mind now matched hers: Here. Now.

Who drew whom to lay on the earthen floor was of no concern and not discernable, they lay and her legs parted for him. She was ready when she stood in the doorway, there was no question of that, their minds met and merged, locked in a strange dual harmonic where one could not determine who began which thought and who ended it.

They placed his member in her, they writhed to the feel of fullness and they gasped and moaned in unison. They drew talons against flesh, threatening to dig out swaths of flesh with their claws. They kissed and merged somewhere in the dark ethers of their mindscape, out of their minds in each other.

They rolled so she was on top of him, so he would enter deeper, so her lack of height wouldn't matter as much, so he could grasp and maul her with his hands, so she could dig her talons into his chest. Her wings unfurled nearly upsetting an unlit brazier, but they didn't notice. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she gasped and moaned in unison with him. She reached back to dig her talons into his most tender portions and impaled herself harder and harder on him, her screeches rising in volume and urgency.

He dug his talons into her breasts, her thighs, he left long scratches on her arms and back, took her hips in his hands and helped her to move faster and harder, digging talons in, the pain burned like the fire in their loins as they tormented each other wildly, then she dropped horizontal to kiss him and stared deeply into his eyes, continuing to pound into each other.

Their souls made love more tenderly than their bodies, like for one earthy layer to make an impact on the passion of the other, they had to achieve more sensation than a placid encounter would provide. Every welt or clawmark stung and sang of life while pouring more energy into them, and their minds danced naked in wild ecstasy and their souls made passionate love to one another, and the rhythm increased, every jolt exacting a grunting growling toll on their bodies and their passion rose higher til their minds could not encompass the pressure any more and they gave in to each other, entirely one, no longer in a fleshy place, but somewhere else riding thermals to meet something, somewhere, one unearthly body perhaps on the journey to meet it's maker.

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