Cover Image Credit: angel (pixiv14838926)
Off the Path
Fiora had come to love the role of a healer, over time. She never minded the high pressure position, finding it not to be so hard. Most people were so appreciative too, watching their wounds close and a sense of calm washing over them.
One thing she never wanted to admit though, was another aspect of the job. Whenever she did well, and the group acknowledged her, it is the greatest feeling. When she did a bad job… well, it was still pretty great. Is it wrong that she kind of liked being scolded when her work was poor? More so then being ignored one way or the other?
The worst was when the groups are so polite and forgiving about it all. She could never quite explain it in words, but there was just something so boring about it. How would she get better if no one was going to give her discipline and motivation, especially the physical kind, that she definitely did not fantasize about when she was supposed to be praying? What was the point of trying to please people, when you could not upset them if you tried?
Therein lies her secret. She is a priestess, a beacon of light that anyone should come to for support, comfort and spiritual wisdom. She took her teachings in stride, training to be chaste and pure.
Until she went into action, and then that part about being chaste was quickly forgotten.
She never found the courage to tell her friends about how much she loves watching headstrong teammates fighting to keep her safe. When they told her what to do, berated her screw-ups or complimented her victories, it excited her in ways that are not so appropriate for polite conversation.
The only downside was that it never lasted.
It is easy to find a group, as healers are highly valued, and relatively few are willing to take up the task. But no one ever seemed interested in staying in touch after all the work they did together. There was no group where she really felt at home. Like the one-night-stand equivalent of life-threatening quests.
Which is why she was so excited when she saw a flier up in Stormwind. A large group of people want to explore an incredibly infested forest, filled with vicious animals and fel demons. They were looking for a healer specifically, and she took the chance as soon as she saw those words, knowing it was now or never. Surely another healer would have taken the chance not a few minutes later if she did not.
She found the people who posted it, a peaceful night elf and grizzled human. They had a short laugh at the sight of her, saying something about how the tank would like her. Despite their abrasiveness, they were still kind enough to tell her about the mission face to face. There had been reports of a particularly strong beast stewing in a certain area, and it is the guild's intent to not only collect whatever treasures this beast may possess, but also test their strength.
It sounded perfect. Something not too formal, but still a mission where she could keep weary adventurers healthy and prove herself. She was all the more excited.
But that excitement had become anxiety, the closer she came to her destination. She stood where they had instructed, on the outskirts of this forest and looking upon the group she would be joining. She knew there were supposed to be twenty-five from the start, but it looked like so many more now that she was here, and nerves were getting to her.
One member of the group, a black haired Gnome, spotted her, seeing a human in a glowing white robe, typical of the priesthood. Long auburn hair, parted to her right and olive skin. He gave her a curious look, thinking it is strange to see this attractive woman stand awkwardly by the sidelines.
"Hey, there she is! The fresh meat," somebody else yelled and pointed at her. She gulped. No turning back now. She approached the group, some of whom staring right at her with little discretion. She thought that she heard mutterings about a "new replacement". Who was she supposed to meet, or where to go?
Her question was answered when a tall man, a Draenei, walked purposefully toward her with heavy plate covering him. When he stood in front of her, she found that her head only reached his chest. She shrunk a bit at the frightening, large man before her, but found it within her to speak first.
"U-um… hello." She gave a short wave. He had his helmet carried under his arm, revealing harsh features that continued to stare down at her, as if through her completely, sizing her up.
She timidly fiddled with her staff that leaned on her shoulder. His look traveled all over her body, and his presence made her feel as if a weight had been draped over her. But, in a strange way, she found that this pressure was not necessarily unpleasant. As she thought of this, it occurred to her that his full beard of brown hair against brilliant, blue skin was rather handsome. She tried again.
"Sorry, I… don't really know how this works. This is the right place, right? You were waiting for a priest to sh-"
"You're staying with me." His voice boomed above her, perhaps louder than necessary. He said it with a certainty, as if it were already set in stone. She looked up and her heart raced at the words.
"I'm sorry?"
"You're very lucky that we are giving you a chance. Usually we would have a trial for you to undertake, but we are on a tight timetable. We'll keep it simple. You will follow and focus your healing on me. Is that clear?" Those last few words had a dangerous edge to it, promising there would be consequences if he did not like how she was doing. Or maybe that was her imagination, she was unsure.
Oh Lord. Her thighs unconsciously rubbed together at the demands, but she caught and righted herself. "Y-yes! I can do that. I promise I won't let you down."
He laid a hand on her back and effortlessly guided her to the front, weaving through the group of people. The contact only enhanced how small she felt in comparison to him, but the feeling was, in a word, cozy. Like a lost puppy, she followed his lead like a lifeline.
It was hard to ignore the people looking toward her and laughing. She did not know why, but a lot of them kept bringing up something about how they were glad the last healer was gone. She looked up at the Draenei as they made it to the front.
"What is this about me being a replacement? Was the last healer not well liked?" She felt the need to ask, feeling that other healers were like kindred spirits, and just had an innate curiosity of them as a result. Despite his imperiousness, he answered. "One of them was kicked out. She had become too comfortable, and forgotten her place."
"Her… place?" The man turned his head to look at her, a ghost of a grin on his face. "That won't be a problem with you. I think you will do well around here."
The encouragement was nice, but it still did not answer her question. "But-"
"Look alive! We are ready to start!" He yelled, and many snapped their looks toward him. "Any last minute preparations are to be made right now! We are moving out!"
Everyone hoisted their packs onto their shoulders and began following his lead into the thick, dim brush. Fiora became anxious at the prospects ahead, unsure of what to expect. She followed behind him, as he instructed, and gripped her staff, looking for anything that might pop up and try to hurt them. Mostly her eyes fell onto his broad back.
As long as he is well, we will be just fine.
They broke the tree line, and the bright sunny day suddenly became diluted by an unsettling, green mist. Brows furrowed, and some went as far as to cover their faces in cloth, unsure if it was completely safe to breathe around here.
Fiora could not blame them. The smell of rot, moss and rotting moss permeated the air, so thick and entrenched in the scenery it made her stomach lurch upward. It was like walking onto a whole other planet, one where the critters sustained themselves only on fungi, dead carcasses and the fear of small children.
What on Azeroth had she gotten herself into? She looked down at the moist ground and figured levitating would be a good idea. It did not take as much effort as one would think, either.
It was like mother always said. You may be in a putrid, life-threatening bog, but that is no excuse not to look your best. She cast her spell and floated, following behind the big man in front of her a bit more closely.
Speaking of him, maybe she could distract herself from the dreariness. "May I ask you something?" She asked cautiously.
He said nothing, but turned his head and made eye-contact, indicating that he was listening. "I just did not properly introduce myself. My name is Fiora Hallewell. May I know yours?"
He walked over a slick log, sloshing through swampy ground. She wondered if perhaps she should levitate him as well, but she had a feeling that he would turn down the offer. A man like him would not mind the effort.
"I'll tell you my name if I decide I want to keep you around. Most call me Sir. Some particularly loyal people, call me Master." That grin came back, and he turned forward once more. He was probably teasing her, she thought, but it still sounded like an exquisite idea. She really liked the man.
"As you wish, Mas- uh, Sir." She almost let that slip without thinking, and her heart raced all the sudden. But the boggy atmosphere brought her back down real quick. Where had he been when she explored more pristine dungeons? This place really killed whatever buzz she was getting from their interaction. They must have been walking for at least a half hour now, and the fact that they had not seen any hostiles yet somehow only made it worse.
Even so, her curiosity still bugged her about the previous healer. She had already asked the warrior in front of her, but why was everyone being so mysterious about it? She could not have been that bad.
The next closest person was beside her, a slim night elf. Judging from her leather armor, and the fact that she could not see any weapons on her, Fiora guessed that she is a rogue. Her hair is a light, grassy green, done up in a ponytail that rested to one side in front of her. Tall and imposing, as most night elves were in comparison to her. Even floating in the air, she was still not as tall as her. But, she must admit, also quite pretty.
"Excuse me," she said with a light voice. The rogue's ear twitched, and she turned her head from the shaman she had been conversing with. "Yes?"
The elf's long brows went upward, upon actually seeing her. "Oh! You're the new healer."
The elf looked at the other group members, and an amused smile crept it's way to her face. "That must mean Erally is really gone."
"That's what I wanted to ask about! Who was she? Why was she so disliked in the group?" The elf had a thoughtful expression, looking up and recalling. "She wasn't so disliked," she clarified. "Mostly because she's a very good paladin. Some don't want to admit it, but she really is a great healer."
"A truly talented healer is hard to come by. What on Azeroth did you need a new one for?" The words left her mouth, but she quickly back-pedaled. "I mean, not that I'm not thankful, of course," she muttered.
The elf gave her a smile, as if to say 'Aww, how cute.' But it dissipated, scrunching up a little, wondering how she should phrase her answer.
"Erally was very good… and she knew it. She liked to remind everyone why exactly she was so great and important. She had a lot of pride, telling us all how the power of life and death was in her hands, or how anyone she did not like would be denied healing. She thought she was the team basically, just… unpleasant, to be around." The elf shrugged, a 'what-are-ya-gonna-do' kind of motion, but Fiora's jaw fell.
"That's awful!" She said, and the elf's ear perked, surprised at her outburst. "A healer's job is to serve and soothe, not hold lives for ransom!"
"It's not that big a deal," the elf hand-waved.
"It most certainly is! Our success is based on mutual trust and respect, everyone doing what they must. If anyone tries to inflate their importance above others, it means trust has fallen apart. I think you were right to want a new one."
Except, of course, when her tank ended up doing much better than she did, actually did turn out to be more important, and asserted his dominance over her as a result. But she decided to leave that little bit unsaid.
"Well..." She hesitated, a little taken aback. "You're very passionate about your healing. I'm uh… I'm glad you're here. My name is Felysae, by the way."
Fiora realized that she basically ranted at the poor woman, and a light blush spread on her face. Nonetheless, she daintily took her outstretched hand. "I am, and thank you for that. I'm Fiora."
She pleasantly stared at the warrior's back, happy to have made a friend. The others around her had begun chatting normally along the way, and it helped put her at ease. Perhaps too at ease, as her high alert and anxiety diminished, and nothing but keeping an eye on Master to dwell on.
And dwell she would. His arms are massive, surely if she messed up, he could do whatever he wanted to her and she would be unable to do anything about it. He could use her however he pleased, while she would get to see what else was hard about him.
What kind of humiliating things would he do to her? Perhaps draw vulgar things all over her body and show her off to the group. Maybe keep her on a leash and not even treat her like a person! Just a toy, a piece of meat with which to satisfy his carnal desires!
"Dear, you're drooling." The same, feminine voice of the rogue told her. Fiora reached up to her chin and, unfortunately, it was true. She wiped it away, blush almost certainly returning on her cheeks. "Eheh… sorry."
Her fantasies struck again, imagining Felysae dramatically berating and demeaning her for being so distracted. Instead, the rogue rolled her eyes. Or at least, that is what Fiora thought she meant to do, what with elven eyes lacking irises. It disappointed her a little, but still, was it hot all of a sudden? She fiddled with the collar of her robe.
"ARGH!" The scream of a teammate and the -fwip- sound of a trap being sprung shocked her back to reality. She looked back to see a dwarf yanking a dart out of his arm, and his form slumping to the ground. Her heart leaped into her throat, and at least two more traps were sprung, a human was caught in a net and unable to move.
"AMBUSH!" The armored Draenei roared. Her first instinct was to help the dwarf that had been knocked out, assess what had been done to him. But rustling leaves and bush surrounded them all. She never got a good look at what attacked them, but they are some kind of scaly, fish people. Naga, perhaps? But did they always have glowing, green eyes?
Some of the figures appeared within the group and attacked mindlessly. Her leader rushed into the action, faster than she ever thought a man that large could move. She had to follow and keep him healthy. He taunted and berated the enemies (lucky ingrates) so that they would attack him instead. The distinct sound of metal clanging together rang, as he was already in the middle and taking hits.
He was trusting her to keep him in shape, and knowing this made her more determined.
Even floating in mid-air and not having to weave through the forest floor, she was still not much faster than being on foot. It was difficult keeping up with the man. It seemed that every step he took was another leap and bound straight into danger. Even so, her hands glowed golden, and enveloped nearby teammates with holy light.
How satisfying it is to see the heavily armored man shining in her holy magic. Still, she had never done this to such a scale. What were usually short bursts of intense fighting, became a messy battlefield that was much harder to keep track of. Thankfully, she was not the only healer, and it allowed her to focus on her given task.
The enemies are not bright, running headlong into whoever is nearest with seemingly little strategy beyond the initial ambush. But sheer numbers were becoming a concern, and her teammates were struggling. Just as she charged another longer spell for him, a damage dealer fell injured beside her.
Usually this would cause her panic, knowing she did something wrong. But she had to trust that this situation was different, and do as instructed. She had to trust her tank.
Speaking of her tank, it was really strange seeing him glow like an angel, but also unbelievably angry at the same time. One would think this anger was directed at the enemy for hurting his team, but she is quite positive she heard him yelling at his team, specifically.
In fairness, it was pretty dumb that they were just standing in the puddles of poison or green flames that occasionally sprung up. She thought she heard something about a hunter being a moron for setting off traps in the first place. She definitely heard that he was using much more colorful language than that.
Perhaps her focus was too narrow, as even though the warrior was nicely topped off, companions were still getting hurt around her. It was getting harder to ignore, until there was little commotion around her left.
The injured groaned on the ground, while her periphery was filled with the corrupted naga-like creatures closing in on her. She could not ignore it any longer, and chose to release a nova of holy light, burning and damaging the assailants, but not enough to dissuade them away. She floated forward, caught between wanting to move but needing to continue her healing.
Just as she was about to scream for help, her tank jumped to her aid directly. Quite literally. He jumped with enough power to leap several feet and leave a shallow crater in the ground, sending surrounding enemies (and a couple guild mates) sprawling.
"Stay close and behind!" He yelled to her. The naga didn't give time for her to answer, and the real fight began. He cleaved, slashed and bashed through enemies, winding and spinning around her floating form while she continued her healing.
She knew it wasn't the time, but she could not help being impressed with his ferocity; and not necessarily in a sexual way, this time. Each enemy that threatened to come close was met with a shield and a large blade that she thought would take all of her strength just to hold upright. It wasn't just exciting, but genuinely impressive. Inspiring, even.
The warrior circled around her, batting away enemies that threatened her from every direction. She stumbled and interrupted her healing a number of times. She was well-aware that their survival was mostly from his effort, and tried to keep up. She even weaved in the occasional offensive spell at enemies, smiting the corrupted.
The whole battle must have only taken place within ten minutes, but to her, it felt so much longer. Her mana burned, her heart pounded, morale wavered as she knew she could be doing so much better, and she was alight with terror from the enraged, mindless enemies attacking them.
There was no place she would rather be.
The warrior's stamina is something to behold. He hardly slowed down even after waves of enemies crashed into him. They only seemed to fuel his anger and aggression, meeting them with just as much, if not more, force. He dutifully protected her and did what he must, with no regard for his own well-being.
It all gave her a sense of fulfillment. If he would not worry for his own health, she would gladly fill in that blank, and allow him to protect her further. Never could she remember a fight like this, being so close with her tank, feeling like it was two of them against the world. She wanted to follow him everywhere, and give the comfort and healing he would never admit to needing.
She would learn his name, perfect this dance they shared, and follow him to the ends of the earth. She would beg if she must, though she had little shame in that.
One last crack of metal into a skull sounded, and the Naga fell limp. Just like that, there was silence. They both whipped their heads around, looking for more trouble. But it seemed that it had finally stopped, only replaced with the groans of other teammates. Some even lay dead, but she would remedy that, like the good, dependable healer she is.
"We did it!" She shouted in excitement, breathing heavy with sweat beading her forehead. She looked to her tank, thinking he would be just as glad. He was not anywhere near as winded as she, but grimaced at his injured teammates. He walked over and cut down an ally that had been caught in a net and left to hang, struggling to cut his own way out. Fiora saw that a couple darts were embedded into him as well.
He thanked her tank for getting him out, only to grunt in pain as he fell like a dead weight against the ground. The tank then grabbed him the back of his shirt and hoisted him to his feet. "You were one of them that set off the traps, were you not?"
"Um..." The injured hunter gave a forced smile. "I suppose I was distracted. My bad."
He was dropped again, landing on a dart. He cried out and clutched around his stomach, face and teeth clenched. "Are you sorry? We have no choice but to set up camp and regain composure after one battle! That is pathetic." He leaned in close to him and put emphasis on that last word, making the hunter wince.
He wheeled around and shouted at the rest of them. "And each and every one of you is going to answer for it in the next round of training!"
There was an audible groan throughout the group, having some idea of what was coming already. He always put them through hell, even when in a relatively good mood.
"Sir?" She nervously walked up behind him, twiddling her fingers but careful to make her presence known. "Did I do well?"
He regarded her, and his anger seemed to dwindle. He looked as though he wanted to tell her what he thought, but was suddenly too tired to bother. "It is still too early to say one way or another. If you want to prove yourself useful, now is the time," he gestured to all around them. Only a few teammates were standing on their own. He started to walk away from the group, with only a fraction of the energy he had just moments before.
"Where are you going?" She felt the need to ask. He turned his head. "I am gathering what we need to make camp. Stones, firewood, food perhaps. Now when I get back, I want all of these fools breathing again. Get to it." His voice was still demanding, but lacked life.
Fiora watched him walk, saddened at his sudden change in attitude. Perhaps this wasn't the first time this had happened? She remembered what the two men had said the other day when turning in that flier, about the trip testing their abilities. Maybe they had to test their strength because the guild was inexperienced? Whatever the case, a man like him needing alone time meant he must be incredibly stressed.
Just leaving him stressed like that would not do. She wanted to help her team decompress and unwind, as well as stop their bleeding. Sir was doing his part the best he could, and she would too.
She resolved to help set up their camp, and find Sir to get to know him better. Maybe seeing if she could put some virility back in him, that forcefulness would come back, and he could tell her what he really thought of her performance.
Pleased with her plan, Fiora reached into her bag and drank some well-deserved water. She would need it with all this work to do.
She got right to it, making sure any fellow healers were healthy first before moving on to the rest of the team. The freshly risen breathed a large, healthy breathe and thanked her for her work, reminding her why she loved her job so much. Her kind, nurturing nature, coupled with her holy magic, made even the hardest of the group soften in her presence.
It may have just been a nice change from the tank's strictness, really.
Once they were well enough to walk on their own, they doubled back over their trail and walked closer to where they had entered from. While the bog of the area was not completely gone, there was something of an oasis closer to the outskirts of the forest. A short distance from a relatively clear pond, their new camp resembled a small village.
She sat around a fire, doing the finishing touches on a mage's wounds, while trying to stay interested in a conversation with some other members she had yet to meet. This mage is a rather pompous, uppity human who, when offered some boiled water out of the nearby pond, adamantly stated that he would drink his own water, thank you very much.
All the while, she was looking around the camp, searching. She had only seen Sir sparingly since the fight, bringing wood as he had said he would. Once their abode was established though, he seemed to vanish. A man with that much presence was hard to miss in a crowd. He could not be far…
"Miss… hellooo~" Her attention was grabbed, and she jerked her head as if trying to stay awake.
"Uh?" She said, intelligently.
"Don't mean to tell you how to do your job, but my wound closed up minutes ago. I think I'll be fine now," The mage said with some amusement. She looked down at his arm. Ah. So it was. She coughed.
"Sorry, my mind ran away from me," she reasoned, waiting to be rebuked.
"You're in a new group, and after that battle, it is easy to see why you would be nervous," a night elf man reasoned.
"Can we please forget about the fight for a while?" The dwarf beside him grimaced. A draenei shaman, whom Fiora recognized from speaking with Felysae, sat beside her and fiddled with her nails, disinterested.
The group spoke of nothing, mostly the chilly evening, how excited they were to leave and other mundane things. Nothing about wanting to improve their strategy, or wanting to do anything really. The mage may have been snarky and uptight, but it was with an air of listlessness that lacked any real bite. They were leaving an impression of meekness on her.
They were friendly though. A group of easy-going politeness. But it is the wrong kind of politeness, the kind born out of inability and laziness. These weren't men who could be rude, critical or dangerous, but chose not to be. They were incapable of those things altogether.
A group of boredom, in her eyes. This was looking like a repeat of many a disappointing dungeon, but never would she say so out loud.
"I guess I am a bit nervous," she said with honesty. "I'm going to see if anyone else needs me. Please, excuse me." She got up and continued her search for Sir. She really wished she knew his name now, just to have something to call him in her mind.
Master would work, she thought with a grin. She needed to see him now more than ever. Not just for herself, but she had to make sure his motivation had not died with the embarrassing display earlier. That vitality and energy was too precious to ever let fade. If it did, how would he ever whip his guild (and especially her) into shape?
She could only think of one other place to look for him.
The water was much too cold, and not as clear as he would like. Even so, he embraced the pain of the cold and suppressed his shivers. Besides, his fury warmed him plenty, and made his bathing tolerable.
He did what he had to at the camp, and left them before he did something he would later regret. He had hoped that the frigidness would distract him from his own anger, but it was not to be. The thoughts of his weak teammates made his teeth grit.
It is an issue all warriors are faced with at one time or another. Their rage fueled them, allowed them to reach legendary status with their aggression and sturdiness in a fight to the death. It was useful, but then came the time afterward, to return to a friendly environment.
It was at these times where that rage became a burden. So practiced was he in dealing with his problems by beating them to death, but sadly, that is not a realistic option when dealing with allies. It is not unusual for warriors to struggle with their mindset in this way, knowing when and how to use their rage effectively. Only the very best and most experienced could find the near-perfect balance in their lives. As much as he hated admitting it, this did not describe him.
That will change in time, he reminded himself. If he continued his hard work, he can be among the best. He would not need to drag a bunch of bloodless morons around kicking and screaming forever.
He thought of getting out of the water and resigned himself to a less-than-pleasant night, but stopped when he heard the soft sound of rocks and dirt rustling by the shore. A now-familiar priestess watched him for a moment, then rolled out a spare blanket from her pack to sit on. She gingerly arranged herself as such, kneeling and watching him.
Some members may have come to gather water or quickly wash clothes, but avoided his gaze. He had not expected anyone else to stay by the shore. Curious, he strode toward her, until he stood mere feet from her and was waist deep in the pond.
"What are you doing here?" He asked. She looked to him with a light smile, while most might have bristled from his tone. "I did all that you asked of me, so I came looking for you. You looked like you could use some company."
Indeed, he could. He once again looked up and down her body, and what he saw was pleasing to the eye. She did not falter under his gaze this time though, as she had earlier that day. He got a funny feeling that she was doing much the same, eyeing his chest and arms in a way that was not as discreet as she probably thought. "Most do not consider me very approachable. What makes you think otherwise?"
"I am a priestess. It is my calling to see the best in people," she stood and walked as close to the edge without stepping in the water. "I really wanted to give you my thanks for today. I know my performance was… lackluster. But you still protected me with everything you had. I hope over time, I can return the favor." Her nerves kicked in at those words, and she twiddled her fingers while giving him a hopeful look.
"You think that you are indebted to me," he said. It did not sound as though he were asking a question, as he meant. He saw her shiver, though she was wrapped tight in her robe and could not be cold.
"Yes!" She shouted, too quickly. She caught herself and cleared her throat. "I mean, yes, I do. I will heal and aid you to the best of my ability," she continued with a bit more dignity.
He strode forward toward her, and her face heated and became flustered when he did not stop until he was within arm's length of her. Water dripped to the packed ground, and there he stood, nude as the day he was born. All of him in plain view. Her mouth opened, trying to make words, but she could only look to the side in embarrassment. He could not imagine why. What did he have to be ashamed of? Nothing, that's what.
Interestingly though, she made no move to leave, or even stagger backward. "I will teach you how to best serve, and your first lesson, is about learning to trust me."
He put his hands on his hips, standing tall and broad as can be. "Off with the robe."
Her expression was enough to make him chuckle. Her eyes bugged, embarrassment apparently forgotten as she met his gaze. "What? Off? Already? I couldn- I mean, not that I mind, but I mean… I just… so soon!?" She stuttered and fiddled with her clothes. Any pretense of her being mysterious and calm vanished, and somewhere deep within him, he could admit it was adorable.
"You don't want it soaked, do you?" He gestured toward the water. "You're still dirty from our battle earlier, and I expect the very best of my team; that includes being able to keep oneself clean."
She looked frantically between him and the oasis, and managed to collect herself. "Oh… I see."
He waited, and she fidgeted with the cloth, letting it slip over her shoulder and reveal a plain T-shirt underneath. She looked up at his watching eyes, hesitating. He did not waver, intently watching as she undressed. She could leave if she truly wanted to, but as long as she stayed, he would be in control of the situation.
It became clear he would not look away, almost challenging to see if she would change her mind and go back to camp. She met that challenge, though more red-faced and bashful than ever. She removed the robe easily, carefully placing it on the blanket. Her magically enhanced gloves and shoes came next, as well as the leggings.
Beneath all of that, a pair of tight blue shorts and a white shirt. He thought she almost looked like a civilian.
She took a deep breath and began slowly pulling the shirt over her head. He made a show of looking over her, tilting his head dramatically as he looked up and down her form.
She is not like many of the females he had seen, many of whom were hunters, shaman, rogues or other such physically demanding classes. They were lithe and tight, or in the case of paladins and the occasional warrior, hard and muscled.
Fiora is soft, with little hint of physical strength. But, to his pleasure, it only enhanced her voluptuousness. The waistband of her shorts strained against her hips, molding the flesh slightly on it's way, before relaxing and falling down pristine legs.
She stood upright and looked to him for approval, while he made no effort to hide the new, hungry edge his eyes took. He smirked. "You are forgetting something."
All she had left were plain brown undergarments. She looked down at herself and could not stop shivering. He made sure not to look as lecherous as he had a moment ago, seeing her nervousness build. He made to look sure and confident, like a teacher to his student, and nodded firmly.
Despite himself, his own heart rate picked up when she made to untie the bra behind her back. The straps fell, but she kept an arm over her breasts as the cloth fell away completely and was tossed to the pile of clothes. The other hand went downward, sliding the last piece down easily enough one-handed.
What they were left with was a shameless man baring himself to the world, and a lady who kept arms over herself, trying to keep some level of coyness.
That's fine, he thought. She had been brave up to this point, and allowed her that small bit of modesty. He beckoned her over, and she went to stand in front of him once more. Her whole body was flushed, but he held a large hand out for her to take. "Let us go."
She took his hand, still covering her chest with the other. He stepped backward, and led them both toward the water. It lapped at her feet, and one step suddenly brought the water up to her calf. She squeaked and recoiled. "Why is it so cold!?"
He kept a firm hold on her, though not enough to hurt her. "Many times, we will enter places and situations that are not comfortable or ideal. Regardless, we must press on, and I need to know that you will continue to follow me no matter what."
"I can't do this. I always boil my bathwater whenever I have the chance. Is this necessary?"
"Yes." His gaze on her is firm and deathly serious. "Do you trust me not to lead you astray?"
Her fear lessened at the question, and though she was definitely not looking forward to what was about to happen, she took a deep breathe and steeled herself for it. "I trust you."
He took her other arm, and resumed slowly walking backward into deep waters. It bit into their flesh, and Fiora hissed and pulled with each step, but only out of reflex. She made no move to leave though, determined to see this test through. The water reached her hips, and now her shivering was much more justified.
She whimpered as they continued, up to her waist now. "I trust you," she whispered. It became something of a mantra. "I trust you, I trust you."
He wanted to laugh, but kept it down. The frigidness was not so great an obstacle for his tough physique, but it is a much bigger deal for her. She displayed strength. She is trying.
He pulled her closer, holding her shoulders. He leaned them both back, taking a deep breath. Knowing what he meant to do, she mimicked him and drew her own breath.
He pulled them both under, only for a second. They came up, and he heard Fiora's teeth clicking. She clung to him for dear life, vibrating in his arms. "I… I c-can't do this. Please, I tried, b-but I can't!"
"You already succeeded." He told her, a sense of pride in him. "Focus not on the water. Focus on my warmth, and you can control yourself. Will yourself to stop shivering. Comfort is your choice."
She hugged him as close as she could, breathing heavy and resting her cheek on his shoulder. After a moment, she became more still. Warmth pooled between them, and she managed to calm and be still.
"You learn quickly," he gave an earnest compliment. She looked up at him as he let them drift lazily through the water. "With that attitude, you will make a valuable addition to the guild. You may even deserve a reward. Well done."
She beamed, and hugged him as tight as she could. She could not touch her hands behind his back, hugging around his chest. The idea of a reward seemed to make her forget the cold for a moment, though her lips had become a little purple. "Thank you! I will follow you anywhere if I must, I promise. Not just for you to teach me new things, but to teach and help you as well."
"And what do you plan on teaching me?"
"The real value of a priestess." In the water, their heights are almost level. She looked in his eyes but did not dare move away, relying on him to keep the icy cold at bay. Her breasts pushed against him, molding to his own hard body. She gave a half-lidded look, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You're already so strong and tough on your own, but even if you can't admit it, you need rest and comfort. I don't think you like snapping at your teammates, or that you're mean at all." She grew bold enough to put her hand on his cheek.
"I know you're stressed, but it takes a good, caring man to do what you do. It's my job to keep you in tip-top shape, on and off the battlefield. All the better to protect us all, right?"
He stared at her for a moment, considering her words. She was not wrong in saying that he had been stressed. Holding a woman in his arms so closely though, especially one such as her, he could not find it in him to continue being angry. Having such a gentle, benevolent creature be injected into the chaotic mess he called a guild, forced him to restrain himself. She is a beacon of light and positivity, that brought order and peace back to the world.
"Fiora," he said, realizing that was the time he actually said her name out loud. "Thank you."
He felt her head turn on his shoulder and neck, and regarded him curiously. "For what?"
"For reminding me why I live the life of a warrior. To obtain glory and honor, and protect what is mine; because what is mine is good, and loyal. I had almost forgotten that, and I find that happens a lot lately." He looked her in the eye. "I do not like forgetting. Perhaps I need something, or someone, to protect and remind me."
She stared back at him, her lips half-parted. His mind was muddied as he became acutely aware of the softness in his arms. She leaned forward a bit, her big, adorable eyes awaiting his action.
One of his large hands glided down her naked form, and rested on her hip. She gasped, partly at the cold that intruded on the previously warm spot, but it was a pleased sound none the less.
But that is not the right word to describe her, he mused. Nude is a better one. 'Naked' would imply some kind of embarrassment. All of this felt easy and natural, to mold her body to his own and protectively keep her away from the cold and dark. To take what is his.
This moment was just like any other moment in which they shared a common goal. He needed to be a good warrior. She depended on him to be aggressive, in all aspects of life as well as the field. He would bring shame on himself, and to her, if he were to stop now.
Before she could lean any further, he grasped her chin, his fingers on each cheek, making his intentions known and letting it sink in for a moment, before bringing their lips together.
She inhaled as much air as her lungs would allow, but did not move away. The exhale came slow, and she let a soft moan escape as she melted into the kiss. He was already feeling light-headed. His hand gripped her rear-end, and he pulled her in as tight as he could. Her submission to the act spurred him onward, and he bit at her lip before invading her mouth.
How long this lasted exactly, he could not say. But they both needed air and, reluctantly, he separated them for precious breathe, and to watch her chest rise and fall. Her blush reappeared with a vengeance, all of her upper body reddened.
She could not help but notice something rather hard that had grown between them. It pushed into her thigh, and he made no effort to hide it whatsoever. He would impose himself as he pleased. She did not mind, moving a small hand down and holding it against her. She smiled cheekily when it earned a low growl out of him.
She yelped in surprise when he roughly grabbed her frame and started swimming them both back to shore. He went in long, powerful strides, driven mad by the woman before him and with a single goal in mind.
"Where are we going?" She asked, though the way she did, he guessed that she knew exactly what was about to happen, but perhaps wanted to hear it from him anyway.
"Where we can warm up," he growled in her ear. They made it to shore, and in his enthusiasm, slung her over his shoulder and carried her to the blanket she set up earlier.
He laid her down on her back, and he eagerly started positioning himself over her. She looked down though, and put a hand on his chest. "Wait."
He groaned and looked annoyed in his eagerness, but stopped and waited as she wished. "You sit," she said.
He quirked his brow, surprised at the suggestion. He decided to humor her, and sat up on the blanket. From here, her body was on full display, and he drank in every detail with abandon. He had no idea how she managed to have such flawless skin, but as long as he breathed, he would make sure it would stay that way.
He stood at firm attention now, and smirked as she got her first good look at it. He caught her licking her lips.
She got up from her back and slowly crawled over to him, moving to sit in his lap and straddle him. She softly gripped his manhood, causing him to sigh. Despite her obvious excitement, he saw some nervousness in her features.
He could guess why. After all, the Draenei are much… larger, than the typical human. It must have been intimidating for a petite lady such as herself. Still, she guided him to her, gently swaying her hips and rubbing them together. She squeaked and gasped, and he felt liquid start to soak him while she probed.
He realized that the reason she may have wanted to take this position at all was to get herself used to such size, and go by her pace under the guise of wanting to please him. Clever woman.
Even so, she was having a bit of trouble. She tried pushing it two, three, four times, only for him to be forced away. She was already starting to sweat, becoming embarrassed and frustrated. If she was having a problem, then he was too, and that would not do. He would once again take matters into his own hands. Literally.
He held her up by the waist, making her take a break from her efforts. His calloused hand went between her legs, rubbing her down thoroughly. She yelped, and her hips bucked from the sudden stimulation. "I'll have you know, I have more than enough strength to shove it all in at once, no matter how small you are."
She whimpered. "But," he continued. "I do not want to risk breaking you. Ultimately, I am here to protect you from harm."
"That's… that's very kind of you." Her breathing was heavy, as he never let up on exploring her body with his fingers. She mustered up what little composure she could. "A true healer wishes to heal spiritually as well as physically. I want to be open and welcoming, so that you can release your pent up stress through me. I said I would not let you down, and I meant it."
Something told him that this is probably not what the priesthood had in mind to accomplish those things. He would certainly not complain though, and gave her a hungry smile, pleased at her words. Reinvigorated, he slowly impaled her upon his middle finger. She contained a loud cry, only barely, and held onto his shoulders for support. His thumb went to caress around in her most sensitive area, and she bucked and jumped whenever he found it again.
It was working, as before long, his hand was drenched. Just to be sure that he would definitely fit next time he tried though, his mouth found her generous breasts. She sighed in approval, holding his head in her arms while his tongue thoroughly explored her peaks. It was an exercise in patience, especially by his standards.
He always thought that phrase, good things come to those who wait, was complete nonsense. But now, he felt that he understood the sentiment better. It would be well worth it to take special care in his ministrations.
He felt the pressure around his finger change. It went from being resisted, to being welcome, pulling him in more than forcing him out. Perfect.
He pulled himself out, holding his hand out in front of her with a smirk, as if to gloat about what he had accomplished. "Clean it up."
While his other hand guided her back down to her seat, she kissed and pecked at his finger lightly. She experimentally flicked her tongue out as well, before wrapping her lips around the digit.
His tip brushed against her again, while her mouth became more and more full. She let loose a husky groan at the feeling, and eyed him suggestively. Her own patience had worn thin, and in her excitement, suddenly sat down on him heavily.
A short scream from her sounded in his ear. His own breath hitched at the sensation. From nothing, to being tightly squeezed all the way down to his lap. He felt her insides flex around him, and she put a hand on her stomach, wincing.
He could not (nor did he ever want to) imagine what exactly that must feel like for her. But she was being a good girl in any case, and he decided to reward her with a deep kiss, a large hand wrapped around the back of her neck. She accepted it graciously, adjusting to him.
"Move slowly," he whispered in her ear. Spurred on by him, she nodded and began rising. Slow, but deep, taking a full second to rise to the tip, and another to fall back down to the hilt. It was torturously slow for the both of them, but he would remain patient. He got more of a rush from teasing her, and watching her whimper and bite her lip while holding back is more than worth it.
He simply sat with a smirk and watched her squirm and shudder, feeling like a King. He would definitely have to work at keeping this one.
She started picking up her pace, holding his shoulders for support and losing control of herself, flesh smacked against flesh. The pitch of her voice went higher, and was about to go crazy before she nearly jumped and cried out at the harsh smack on her behind.
"No," he said forcefully, gripping her hips and bringing her back to the slow pace she had. All to make it perfectly clear who was in control here. Her moans came out as whines, but she moved at his pace.
He felt more than a little smug at noticing how drenched his actions made her. He now slid impressively easy in and out of her, pleasantly surprised that such a small woman could handle him. He lifted her quicker, and her reaction was immediate and thankful. Her nails dug into his flesh, she leaned down and bit into his shoulder, her moans vibrating against him. Perhaps she has had enough torture.
"Move faster and show me what you're capable of," he commanded. "Prove yourself and earn your keep."
"Yes! I will!" She yelled, her mouth hanging open as she began bouncing atop of him. He grunted at the feeling, surprised by her vigor.
Alas, she was already breathing heavy from the start, sweat leaving a sheen on her skin, even with the chilly water still clinging to her. Her intensity lasted for less than a minute, before her legs shook from the work. She stubbornly tried to keep it up, only to slow, and then finally stopping to catch her breath.
His smirk grew, watching her pant like a dog, but still trying so hard to keep up with the likes of a warrior. Bless her heart.
"You see all of this?" He gestured to his own body. His muscles were not sharply defined, but still undeniably massive and powerful. He displayed his broad, bright-blue chest and stomach openly to her. She most certainly did see all of that, and nodded.
"That is mine," he said. "Now, do you see all of this?" He ran both of his hands thoroughly over her body, starting at her thighs, traveling up her belly and over her breasts. She bit her lip, and nodded once again. "Mm-hmm."
"That is also mine." She shuddered at the words, and did not object. "You've been a good girl. So now, I will take it from here."
He turned her around with ease, and pushed her forward, putting her on all fours. She got the idea, and arched her back. "Yes Sir~" She swayed her hips. "Use me to relieve all of your stress. I want it."
Another harsh slap on her ass caught her off guard, making her yelp and lurch forward. He leaned down, so that his lips were right by her ear. "Ask nicely," he warned.
"Please!" The stinging made her eyes glassy in the diminishing light. "Please… take me?" She stared back at him, pouting and feigning innocence. It satisfied him. He righted himself and rubbed against her entrance. She groaned, putting a hand between her legs, spreading herself and guiding him. "Please," she repeated.
He found what he sought once again, and buried himself back into her. She moaned and stuttered in appreciation. He growled, grasped her waist and slammed into her as deep as he could. She screamed, and had to put a hand up to her mouth to help keep her noise down as he worked her over.
Already it was much different than having her do all the work. He had much more control with his movements, able to pull her back into his every thrust. He enjoyed and reveled in the way her ass rippled and wiggled with each smack of flesh.
All he did, he did in the name of owning her completely. He grabbed a handful of her hair, and put the other hand on her shoulder. Her hair pulled taut and her head tilted upward, mouth hanging open and muttering incomprehensible words. Something about "Oh God," and "Yes!" and "Like that!" while every other word between them was the kind of language a priestess should never utter in public.
She turned her head to look back at him briefly, and he could see that Fiora had tears down her cheeks. Her brow was furrowed, as if concentrating or baring some pain. Maybe she was not as accustomed as they had both believed? Even so, she looked him in the eye, and he saw ecstasy, and determination to see him through.
Her excitement affected him, and he felt his end coming soon. Losing his composure, he growled. The hand with a fistful of hair in it pushed her head down to the blanket, bending her over completely. His pace picked up, ramming her into the ground with near-intolerable force.
"Who do you belong to!" His hands squeezed her tightly while he demanded her answer.
"You!" She practically screamed. "I belong to you, and you only! I'm yours completely, Master!" She bit down on the blanket, bracing herself against his onslaught. Animalistic grunts and growls vibrated in his chest, and with final, hard thrusts, he drove into her as deep as he could.
The pitch of her scream went up an octave, and her legs shook uncontrollably as he released all he had into her. He twitched and pulsed within her, filling up past the breaking point.
They stayed in that position, panting and trying to catch their breath. All good things must come to an end though, and he finally pulled out completely, letting her slump and rest.
He stared down at her, admiring his handiwork. Her arms and legs still twitched, fluid leaked out of her, and her face was streaked in tears. Her chest rose and fell heavily, pawing at the blanket and still occasionally moaning as if they had not stopped at all.
He leaned over her, and reached down to her cheek, drying the wet mark away while tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. She looked up at him with glassy doe eyes, appreciative of the genuine show of affection and tenderness.
The large man moved to lay face-down beside her, suddenly sleepy. He wrapped an arm possessively around her body, and dragged her close. They embraced, and shared a long, tender kiss. He felt her place a hand on his cheek, still twitching lightly.
How long they laid, neither could tell. It did not matter, because neither wanted to break the comfortable silence for some time. But after all of that, he felt one thing had to be said.
"Mastrik." The word was low and gravelly, reminiscent of one just waking up. She gazed up at him with a questioning look. "Hn?"
"My real name," he said. She gazed longer, a smile slowly spreading over her face. Fiora sat up with surprising perkiness, and positioned herself behind him. She put her hands on his back, and slowly rubbed along the contours of his muscles. Her dainty hands felt insignificant against the hard expanse of blue, but he still laid flat on his stomach, accepting her treatment.
"That still sounds an awful lot like Master," she cooed. "Was that on purpose?"
His body rose against her hands as he gave a short laugh. Of course it wasn't. In his home language, the word for "master" or "commander" was entirely different. But that would be the first thing that comes to her mind. "Close enough," he said.
"So, Mastrik," she tasted the word. Her hands continued gliding smoothly over his back with practiced motions, a shiver running along his spine. His muscles rippled beneath her touch. "I meant every word I said. As long as you protect me, my life is yours." She had said much more bold and embarrassing things earlier, but could not help the heat across her face. Saying this again after the fact made it feel more real. Like a true confession.
"As long as you keep me alive," he proclaimed, "no one will harm, or even lay a finger on you. That's my job."
She giggled, and took joy in his promise. She happily massaged him, believing he was more than capable, and willing, to keep it. Was it a good idea, to pledge her life to someone she just met? She knew there was risk, that she did not know him fully yet. But as long as they fulfilled their duties, that could fall into place. It could be a mistake, but what if it wasn't? There would only one way to find out, and that is to try.
For Mastrik's part, he was similarly pleased with the promise. With his strength and aggression, and her magic and support, they could be an unstoppable team. All this time he had kept his name from many, not wanting to be close. But maybe, having a good woman by his side to support him wouldn't be so bad. What good was being strong, if he had no one to fight for?
Their hearts were set, ready to take on whatever came their way in the name of riches and glory.
-SNAP-
Their eyes shot open, turning their heads toward the clicking sound not far from them. A certain nosy rogue held a strange device in front of her face with a shit-eating grin. "Um, Felysae..." Fiora dared to ask. "What is that you're holding?"
"Oh, this? It's just something that takes images and puts them on paper, so that you never have to forget what you saw! Gnomish technology really is something, isn't it? By the way, everybody heard you." She ran back toward the camp, laughing all the way.
They both stared blankly, processing what just happened and wondering what should be done about it. "She's going to show that to everybody," Mastrik said flatly.
She thought about it for a moment, before looking at him with a sly grin. "I want them to see it," she said suggestively. He looked at her blankly for a moment, before allowing himself to chuckle at her words. She joined in, sharing the mirthful moment.
"As do I. They will know what the score is." He laid on his back and opened an arm wide towards her. "Now come here."
She laid atop him, resting her head against his shoulder. They could worry about cleaning up later. They may lay in a dangerous land, with demons out for their hide and an unfocused group that would surely be giving them an ear-full and some looks later.
Even knowing all of that, neither could remember the last time they had been so comfortable.
(A/N): Holy mother o' sweet Jesus Christ this ended up being so much longer than I meant it to be.
I've decided to try answering and responding to any comments right here in the Notes and see how well that works. Even if it's just to give a thanks, you'll see it here. I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day. Now get off the toilet and go back to work, show's over.
Guest: Huh. The idea of "size-play" never once occurred to me, but now that you say that, it seems so obvious.
The plan is for this to be a one-shot all it's own. I had a lot of fun writing it though, and have a daily writing goal to meet. Maybe it'd be interesting, exploring a relationship and lifestyle like this in detail. Thanks a ton for giving it a shot, I'm glad ya like it.