While I work on my Morgana/Kayle request, here's something to ease the wait. This is a tad more… I guess romance is the best way to describe it? It's still smut, but it's classy smut, so get some wine and a cheese platter while you read it.

Cheers.

.***

Tryndamere sits, patient but wanting.

He sits atop his luxurious bed in his robe, feet pressed to the carpet. Even in the darkness of both the blindfold and the drawn shades, he is sure she sees his anxiety. It's been so long, so very long, since they've been together like this; He held down both kingdoms, she went on expeditions very often, and this was not even touching the League matches. They barely had time for a simple 'hello', let alone…this.

Still, the tension weighs on him like a knapsack.

.***

She steps from the closet, covered only by the hood of her battle garments. Her feet make the slightest noise as they compress the carpet under them. She knows he's dying for it, yet still she walks at her own pace, letting him savor the bitter anticipation. She hadn't realized how busy she'd been until one of her guards asked her if he had received his evening meal. His name had been a shock alone, but when she realized that she had not even seen his face since several weeks ago, she knew she would have to make it up to him somehow.

She cornered him in the hallway, him on his way to another League match and her on her way to the bedroom, having just returned from another one of her Freijord expeditions. She waited until just as he turned the corner, and then pressed him against the wall. "Ashe?" He asked, clearly not expecting to have seen her so soon. "Weren't you out on one of your-"
"I was," She cut him off. She wanted to make this very quick, to get the point across as fast as possible then disappear as quickly as she came. "But now I'm back. And I'm here to make it up to you."

Tryndamere raised his eyebrow incredulously. "What do you mean?" Without breaking eye contact, she drew a length of fabric from her pocket and placed it in his own. "When you return tonight, after the reception, come straight to our bedroom. Nowhere else. Wear this blindfold- and nothing else." She savored the widening of his eyes for no more than a moment, and then disappeared from whence she came.

He arrived right on time- it seemed this deal was more than enough to convince him. He wore only his bedrobe and the crown that governed their people. As he reached for the light switch, she caught his hand. "Sit." It came out lower than a whisper, but he listened nonetheless and took his spot on the edge. Now she stood in front of him, adjusting her hood so that it covered most of her face. Even if he couldn't see her, this was definitely something she wasn't used to. After all, she had told the press after marriage that this was for diplomacy, not romantics.

Ashe takes a few cautious steps forward and raises the crown off his head. Powerful as it may seem, he was no king tonight. For the first time in decades, Tryndamere would be what his enemy's desired most: powerless. She left for only a moment, to place the crown on its pillow along the dresser. Now, she turns to face him one more time.

She walks slowly, calm but collected, back to him. She knows the wait, the mere anticipation of what is about to come is driving him mad, but she will make him suffer a little while longer. She climbs onto the bed next to him, moving until she is just behind him. She places her hands on his neck, still frosty from the chill of her glacial bow. Tryndamere shudders from her touch, but doesn't move nor remove the cloth from his eyes.

She runs them down his neck,into his robe, past the collarbones, and down his chest, but pauses just under the waist. Tryndamere freezes. The slightest tick and her hand would brush across… the thought causes him to sweat. The seconds tick by as Tryndamere's heart races ahead of them. Then, seemingly just as fast as she places them here, she backs away, and she smiles as Tryndamere shudders in wait.

Ashe feels she has distracted him long enough; it is time to give him what he's been dreaming of. She kneels in front of him, undoing the straps that hold the robe. Tryndamere slides it off his shoulders, feeling even more exposed with the blindfold covering his eyes. In the faint glow of the candle, Ashe smiled; He was already more than ready, probably had been for some time. It wasn't until now that Ashe realized what she was doing. If someone had told several years ago what she was about to do, she would have more than likely shot them dead. But for Tryndamere, one of the few people to stand by her no matter her indecision, she was more than resolute

Even as Tryndamere grips the edges of the bed, heart threatening to jump out of his chest, no amount of preparation can save him from the warmth of Ashe's mouth overtaking his manhood. To this day, he swears his heart stopped as she pushed and pulled along his length. He tries to be strong, but cries of pleasure mingled with shock continue to overtake his lips. She begins slowly at first, letting him savor each and every motion, then she moves faster. Tryndamere's mind seems to have taken leave of his senses- The rapid slurping and swallowing she offers his cock pushes him near the edge, but he doesn't dare tell her to slow down.

Ashe, however, doesn't need to be told. As he fills her to the back of her throat and out again, she feels the twitches that signal him nearing release. She isn't prepared for him to finish, and very nearly sighs as she realizes she hasn't made any effort to satisfy him in the recent months. At first she is content to simply swallow whatever awaits her, but a better idea soon enters her head.

Tryndamere has nearly taken leave of his sanity. The pitch black of the fabric is driving him mad; he needs to see what Ashe is doing to him, or he will surely go mad. She will more than likely reprimand him, but he doesn't care. With unquenched fury, Tryndamere yanks the fabric off his eyes. As his eyes adjust to the dimness of the candle glow, what he sees astounds him.

Ashe had, in fact, removed him from her mouth, only to replace it with both of her breasts. Tryndamere's cock was nestled snugly between them, stroking up and down his length with a focused ferocity. But it was the determination, the fire in her eyes as she viciously tried to please him that nearly sent him over the edge. And then, she looked up.

Ashe saw that he had removed the blindfold, and through the darkness, smiled.

The pressure that he had been struggling to contain finally broke. Ashe was battered by rope after rope of Tryndamere's sticky seed. His fingers gripped the edges of the mattress and his eyes fought to stay in their sockets; His senses seemed to fade away almost entirely, the pure adrenaline of pleasure the only sign that he was even still alive. Through blurry eyes he saw that Ashe's face and chest were now dripping with his expelled seed, her body pale with exhaust.

Wobbling and out of focus, Tryndamere fell backwards onto the bed, sprawled across its width. The last thing he remembered was Ashe stoically pulling herself to her feet and off the bathroom to clean herself.

.***

After what seemed like an eternity, Tryndamere awoke, tucked snugly into bed with Ashe resting next to him, her chest rising and falling slowly. Was it a dream? Had they really…? Could he ask her? Thoughts of his next move- or rather, the morning's next move, because dream or not the exhaust was real-were interrupted when he felt the smooth cloth in his hand.

He turned to stare at Ashe again; she was both nude and smiling.