Chapter 203: 164 – Pokora annihilates Natasha.

Pokora got naked and walked to the wall.

Her skin, white as snow, was covered by a thin film of sweat wherever my eyes landed, reflecting the rainbow-colored light coming from the etchings on the wall, giving the Elf an ethereal allure. Without blemish, mole, scar, or mark, Pokora's body looked otherworldly. Her long Elven ears and the pair of sharp canines peeking from her lips made my heartbeat speed up. The contrast of her short, pitch black hair made her even prettier in my eyes. Her resting expression was completely different from mine: hers was emotionless while mine was bitchy. Her dull silver eyes magnified the fact she was no longer a Human.

I licked my lips and smiled.

Pokora's body was lean, her butt looked tight, and the muscles under her skin were noticeable thanks to her life as an Archer and being part of the army for 25 years. Her shorter stature gave her a petite image, but that's because most of us are just much taller.

It's simply perspective.

Alyssa, Yolin, and I are around the same height. Lapia is a full head shorter than me, but is still taller than Pokora.

Pokora, however, is not excessively short. Maybe around 165cm tall. Perfectly within the norm. Despite being athletic and having lived a life of strenuous exercise, she wasn't stocky like short people tend to be when they build muscle. She wasn't thin either. Far from it, actually.

I followed her with my eyes, absorbing every detail I could catch.

She reached the wall and touched the little circle on it, giving me a full gander at her back. And for free, no less!

As an Archer, Pokora's back muscles are especially developed. Specifically the ones required to pull the string of a bow and keep it knocked for long periods of time, and also the ones that allowed her to continuously shoot projectiles one after the other in a quick manner.

The showers activated and water fell on the Elf.

“Haaa~!” she let out a long sigh.

The water followed the shape of her body, and so did my eyes.

From the top of her head, then her well developed shoulders, her delicious back, her waist, her hips, her ass, her thighs, her calves, and finally her feet.

The Elf slowly but strongly started wiping the sweat off her body with the help of the water. Her hands explored her white skin, rubbing and scrubbing. The tip of her fingers had sharp nails that would better fit the description of claws, but not as extreme as Alyssa's.

I stored my clothes and joined her under the shower, standing next to her.

Water, as the insolent little shit that it is, got in my eyes. What it didn't plan was that I didn't blink even when a small stream hit my eyeball directly. There were more important things in the world, after all. Looking at my girlfriend showering would be one of those, perhaps close to the top of priorities in the cosmos. A sentiment I'm sure all sentient life understands. Wars have been waged for less important things.

The Elf brought her hands to her torso and wiped her modest chest, running her hands over her breasts, which pressed the pale nipples into her skin.

I gently bit my lower lip and nodded. Extending an arm, I rested a hand on top of her head. “Can I wash your hair?” I offered.

Her dull silver eyes met mine, then squinted. A smile formed on her face. “Sure, thanks,” she agreed with a nod. “I'll do yours later,” she added with a chuckle.

I smiled back at her, feeling warmth inside. My hand lowered, caressing her cheek and holding her chin.

Pokora's eyes widened a little and her face turned red.

I leaned into her.

She closed her eyes.

Our lips met in a gentle and soft kiss.

She let out a short sigh and put a hand on my chest.

I too, sighed then wrapped my arms around her.

We enjoyed the little act of affection, then separated after a few seconds.

Pokora's face was red as a tomato, and a big smile split her lips. “You make me so horny,” she whispered.

I quietly laughed and ruffled her hair. “Pokora, assassin of moods,” I joked and moved behind her.

She laughed and sighed, but kept quiet.

I looked for the soap and shampoo compartment, but there was none. “Do you have shampoo?” I asked her while running my fingers through her hair.

She nodded and produced a small bottle, then handed it over.

I took it, poured some on my hands and returned the item, then got to wash her hair.

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While doing so, my mind wandered.

Pokora was once an Earthling Human. A species of beings so utterly inferior in the grand scheme of things, they can't help but self-destruct without the guidance of higher beings. As the lost lambs they are, there is no greatness to them regardless of intent and attempt. Without E'er, they are doomed to exist beneath the great existence that is life on Galeia. They are, however, to be commended for their so called 'indomitable spirit'.

With great care, and taking my time, I massaged the Elf's scalp to help her relax while cleaning her hair.

However, Albert Camus, known for his contributions to post-modern philosophy, stated in his book The Stranger that Earthling Humans ascend from their animal ways when confronted with the awareness of death, finding themselves in a realm of consciousness unique to them, in which they encounter peers and develop a deeper identity of the self through this process. Similarly, Pokora ascended to an existence with objectively greater value after experiencing death. As a Galeian Elf, she is worth billions of Earthling Human lives. As such, when encountered with someone who also experienced death, I imagine she developed a deeper sense of self by becoming aware of, and accepting, death in a deeper realm of consciousness.

The Elf let out a satisfied hum.

I rinsed her hair and moved to cleaning her body.

After a few minutes, she washed my hair and cleaned my body with a deeply flushed face.

Once finished, I took her face with both hands and gave her a deep kiss.

Pokora reciprocated, wrapping her arms around my waist and venturing into my mouth with her tongue. “I want you, daddy,” she whispered.

A cough came from the side.

My eyes widened and I turned my head.

Hanna was standing there with a towel around her hips. “Apologies, Your Excellency,” she blurted out while covering her eyes. “I didn't want to interrupt, but things were clearly... escalating... I didn't want to watch without permission.”

“HAHAHAHA!” Pokora squeezed me and laughed into my chest. “Fuck, this is embarrassing!”

I sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Ahem,” I cleared my throat. “Thanks for letting us know. I was too focused.”

“Not at all, Your Excellency,” the Ork said, walking towards a shower, lost the towel, and turned the mechanism on.

“Are there no more bathrooms?” Pokora inquired, a little frustrated and embarrassed.

Hanna turned to us and smile while squinting her eyes. “There is, but Bonte and Thelea got there first and are... busy as well. This is the only other one.”

“Ah,” the Elf uttered, then titled her head. “Why didn't you interrupt them, then? Why did you choose to interrupt Her Excellency Natasha?” she sarcastically inquired.

Hanna's eyebrows climbed her forehead, and her smile deepened. “I tried, Pokh'Orra. They did not listen.”

My girlfriend groaned and clicked her tongue.

I chuckled and turned the shower off. “Let's go, Pokora,” I told the Elf. “This bathroom isn't ours, after all.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed.

“I apologize,” Hanna repeated and gave us a deep nod.

“No probs,” I told her and produced towels, then wrapped Pokora in one, then wrapped myself.

We dried off while Hanna showered, then got dressed and left the bathroom.

After crossing the wall, a bedroom welcomed us.

“Hey, Natasha,” Pokora called to me.

I turned to her. “Yeah?”

“Here,” she muttered and put a hand in her pocket. “I got something for you.”

I nodded and waited.

Silly me. I should've seen it coming.

The Elf extracted her hand from her pocket, whereupon she had her thumb and index fingers in the shape of a ring, while her other three fingers were stretched out.

“AAAARGH!” I shouted and fell to my knees, absolutely wrecked.

“Heh, gottem!” Pokora cruelly mocked me with a sneer and a snort.

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