Kayle opens her eyes and sees the Devil.
Very literally.
Aatrox stands about two meters away from her, sporting his usual smirk, arms crossed, and in his most human form, a tanned figure with black wings flapping lazily behind him.
He's leaning on a wall, and she can see the corners of the room next to him, so she assumes that the room is very small. The main source of light is a rim of faintly glowing crystals that line the crevices of the ceiling, but the room is still dim, although she senses a cool current somewhere.
Her wings have been numbed with some sort of curse, and her arms are tied above her head to another crystal beam. She tugs at them, but she soon realizes that these are crystals of the Devil himself - made to be unbreakable against the strength of angels. In addition, her helmet is gone, and she seems to be wearing a flouncy white cotton dress with thin straps, which reaches down to her mid thighs, exposing her smooth legs and bare feet. However, it's uncomfortably light, and judging by the dark smirks Aatrox is giving her, it's not leaving much to the imagination.
Ugh.
Pale gold hair falls into her eyes and she shakes her head, glaring at her sworn enemy. "Aatrox."
He snorts and mimicks her tone. "Kayle."
"On what business do you bring me here, Devil?" she asks roughly, ignoring him. "We are currently both under the protection of the Institute, so any offensive moves on your part will-"
"My little angel, do stop with the formalities," he interrupts in an infuriatingly pleasant tone. He takes a step towards her and she notices with a start how close he actually is, the warmth of his toned body nearing hers. "My only intention was to have a little chat with you after such a long time."
This makes her hesitate, but she recovers quickly and scoffs. "By a 'little chat', do you include torturing me and tearing off my limbs as I scream in agony and revoke my position as the queen of angels?"
He looks hurt. "Why would I ever do that?" he asks with fake innocence. Then all traces of friendliness vanish from his dark eyes and he leans in close, close, too close, until their noses are almost touching, and she feels a quiver of fear run through her as she sees an eerie sense of desire in his pupils. He brings a hand to cup her face, and for some reason her body won't move, and where is his other hand going? "Although I would very much enjoy 'torturing' you in another way," he teases humorlessly. "Make you scream my name out loud to your precious heavens and-"
With that, she jerks away from him, or tries to, as the bindings around her hands hold her firmly in place and send numbing jolts around her body. She winces. "You disgusting being," she mutters weakly. Ugh, where are they? And what time is it?
In the shadows a white smirk flashes. "About time we changed that to 'disgusting, sexy being'," he remarks.
Electricity crackles up her leg as he places a finger lightly on her smooth thigh, rubbing circles into her flesh. His other hand finds it way to the small of her back just under her wings, gently pressing her forward closer to him.
She orders her body to move, or for holy light to strike him back to the pits of hell or something, but she's completely powerless even when he gets so close that they're practically breathing each other's air. Her face is turning a faint shade of red, her breathing is growing shallow, the feathers on the white wings hanging behind her are rigid with excitement, and basically she's being way more feminine right now than she'd like to be.
And she hates it.
Kayle bares her teeth at him, loathing herself for being so helpless. "How did you even get me here in the first place?" she manages as he strokes her leg, a knot of heat beginning to build in her lower regions.
"Oh, that was nothing too hard," comes the murmur into her shoulder, causing her to shiver. "All I had to do was break into your room-"
"-excuse me?"
"-and carry you back here without waking you," he barrels on relentlessly. "Then I just cast a spell to create this little dimension for us."
"Besides," he adds against the skin of her neck, and she flushes a brilliant red,"you're a surprisingly deep sleeper, little angel. Morgana must be quite lacking in stealth if she still hasn't managed to kill you yet."
Snapping at him, she seethes,"How did you manage to insult both my sister and I in the same sentence?"
This time she can actually feel the smirk, because he leans in and kisses her.
It takes a bit of time for her to realize what the wet warmth on her lips are and by then his tongue is already running across the crevices in the roof of her mouth, probing deeper and deeper to taste her better, and the knot of heat is flaring and whipping around in the pit of her stomach. Hot breath sears her cheek and she can't hold back a little noise when he forces her closer to him, her elbows a shuddering cage around their locked heads and her hair a sweaty mess on her shoulders.
He breaks away and she reminds herself to breathe. "You seemed to have enjoyed that," he teases, and her face is redder than Katarina's hair. "Sure you don't want to go again?"
"Over my dead body," she hisses.
Aatrox looks relatively amused, but her view of his expression is cut off when he pulls her into a very suggestive position, their lips inches apart again and his wicked hand trailing up her thigh, up, up, up, until his fingers can just lift the hem of her dress up, making her shiver violently. "Well, that's perfectly understandable, I suppose. Want to get to the main course faster, right?"
Heat is spreading over her entire body and she can feel herself on the borders of self-control, numbness prickling at the corners of her vision. She's certain that, at this rate, she'll just give in to him.
And for some reason, she's not entirely uncomfortable with that idea.
But as he leans in, and as the fingers slide ever higher, as her knees give way and she leans into his warm chest-
"Aatrox, fucking dipshit, you said we were going to showdown on the Rift at eight-"
"Tryn, calm yourself, please-"
Kayle skitters away from Aatrox like a sparrow away from a human foot and the Darkin Blade sighs loudly, exasperated, and she makes out a "Tryn you cockblocker" as he straightens reluctantly. The dim little dimension slides into nonexistence and she finds herself in Aatrox's room, which is surprisingly neat, to a furious banging at the door.
He sighs and pushes the Judicator towards a closet gently. "Come in, Tryndamere," he calls, unlocking the door. She slips in carefully and pulls the doors behind her, leaving a tiny gold slit to peek through as the Freljordian couple storm in.
"Well, asshole?" she hears the Barbarian King snarl, punching Aatrox hard in the stomach. "Are we going to fight or not, coward?"
Behind him, his wife sighs. Although Ashe is not tall or large, her aura of authority is as strong as ever, and Kayle involuntarily shivers against the comforting jackets behind her. "Tryn, really," she chides, then turns to Aatrox. "Apologies for the inconvenience caused," she says coolly, and Kayle suddenly jerks when the Frost Archer shoots an amused glance at the closet where she's hiding. "I can tell we've interrupted something important."
Her face is on fire and she shrinks farther back into the closet, her wings cramped up, as Aatrox coughs and a confused Tryndamere nags at his wife. Just how did she? "Ashe, what the fuck are you talkin' about?" Tryn repeats helplessly as she smiles knowingly but does not reply.
"Anyhow, we can go now," Aatrox states awkwardly, shooing the couple out. "Let me get changed."
As soon as she hears the door slam she bursts out of the closet. "Oh, my God," she mutters darkly. "Aatrox, this is all your fault."
He sighs. "Here," he says, and opens the window, motioning outside. "There's a quiet route just down there that leads straight to your block. Nobody takes it and it's around time for breakfast anyway, so you'll be fine."
A pang of hurt resonates in her chest and she pushes it down furiously. Why am I even feeling hurt? she demands incredulously. It's not like something has happened between us - well, yes, something has happened, but I don't feel attacked by that - or maybe I should-
"Ugh," she groans, and he turns in surprise.
"You okay, little angel?" he asks. His voice is heavy with a tenderness that is unlike him and suddenly she feels happy, so happy, for no apparent reason, and she hates herself.
"Agh, whatever," she snaps, blushing, and glides down onto the path he pointed out. The sky is beginning to glow with the comfortable light of morning and cool zephyrs sweep her gold hair around her face, ruffling the feathers on her wings and lifting the hem of her dress. Beneath her bare feet, the ground is hard and clean, courtesy of the magical cleaning systems of the Institute. Dark bricks form the impressive, looming quarters behind her and she steals a glance back up at his window, where he's still waiting, lazily watching her with lidded eyes.
"What, you still want more, little angel?" comes the call, laced with amusement and sarcasm.
She huffs and retorts,"That's not even worth answering," before starting down the path. In the distance, the end of the path leads into the garden of the girls' quarters, and she can visualize running up the stairs to the fourth floor, turning two right corners and one left, then going through the identification spell and collapsing on her fluffy, puffy bed.
But the illusion is soon shattered when she hears him say loudly,"I'll be at yours by nine pm so make sure you're there, unless you want me to charge through the Institute with a raging-"
"Stop!" she squeals, and scurries down the path.