Well, it's been a while since I've uploaded anything. I've had this in the pipeline for a while, but Riot just updated a bunch of the Demacian lore and I wanted to make sure I'd read it all before I published this. I didn't have to alter anything too much, save for the interaction between Garen and Lux. Hopefully it's lore friendly enough. This is also the first time I think I've ever written in this tense. Let me know how you guys liked it.

These guys are a pairing that I don't see enough of, but I really love, I mean, how can you not? Star crossed lovers and all that. There's a reason Romeo and Juliet are so famous.

As always, if you're just here to read some sex, skip to the third line break (not including this one). Enjoy. And don't forget to review if you enjoyed it. Also if you didn't.

In an unremarkable keep, far from the grandeur and bustle of his Demacian homeland, Garen Crownguard finds himself rising with the morning sun. Naked as his nameday he strides across the room and throws open the curtains. Empty grasslands spread before him. The radiance of the dawn brings the open country to life in a way that rejuvenates the spirit. Golden sunbeams spill out over the horizon, streaking over the hills and hollows of the plains that stretch for just a league further than the eye can see. Glistening in the light, droplets of morning dew form a shimmering starscape in the grass.

Garen knows this keep well. This year he was fortunate enough to have been given chambers within the high walls. In previous visits he made due with tents shared by the rest of the Dauntless Vanguard in the surrounding fields. Select Demacian troops and dignitaries are here for the summit, along with their Noxian counterparts. Although the nations aren't currently at war, tensions remain high. Three years ago King Jarvan Lightshield the Third called the first summit in a bid to stave off further outbreaks of warfare.

Now held annually, the summits consist of councils discussing foreign relations, as well as feasts and so-called 'friendly' tournaments to foster good relations. Garen knows that in truth the tournaments only drive the rivalry between the nations, but the opportunity to hone his skills in battle against the Noxian menace in a controlled environment is welcome. Especially when he chances upon the Sinister Blade in the field.

The cool morning air invigorates the Crownguard progeny. He runs his hand through a neatly managed crop of chestnut hair before stopping to check his biceps as though they might have gone flat overnight. Satisfied that they're in prime condition he climbs into his smallclothes and dresses for the day. This year the Dauntless Vanguard will triumph in the squad melee. This year they're going to atone for their abysmal performance at the previous summit.

Garen shakes his head at the memory. His combat with the Hand of Noxus had ended in personal triumph, but his squad mates fell one by one to the Noxians. Their leader was left outnumbered and surrounded. Though he downed an impressive number foes he eventually found himself overwhelmed. Stern words were exchanged in the pavilion tent that night, and Garen had the Vanguard training twice as hard all year in preparation.

The day of atonement is now at hand. Once more the glory will be won by the Vanguard; a reminder for Noxus of Demacia's strength. Suited in his traditional royal blue tabard slashed with gold, the Might of Demacia decides to fit in a few squats and push-ups before he heads out into the grounds. As he approaches his last few repetitions a knock at the door takes him by surprise.

Climbing down from his handstand he checks the view from his window. The sun still hangs low in the sky. Who could have business with him at this early hour? Unbarring the door and wiping a single bead of sweat from his brow Garen seeks to solve the mystery. With a low creak the door hinges open. A shadow rushes through the crack quicker than Garen can register.

Before he can turn around he's met by a familiar voice and the sensation of rough hewn wood scratching the soft skin of his neck.

"Too slow, Crownguard, you're already dead."

Garen smirks as he shoves the door shut. The voice is a welcome one. Spinning quicker than his size suggests, he turns the tables on his would be assailant, pushing the wooden dagger away with his heavy forearm and catching her wrist. He pulls her in close and steals a kiss. She squirms under his rough grasp but soon gives in.

"You shouldn't be here, Du Couteau," Garen finally growls as he breaks the kiss. "What if somebody saw you making your way here?"

Katarina lets slip a wry smile.

"You wound me! Would I really be so careless as to be caught visiting the Demacian quarters?"

Garen supposes not.

"At this hour the only souls stirring are the servants and washerwomen, who are all smart enough to know that they didn't see anything," she elaborates, placing a hand on her hip and sliding the wooden dagger into one of the leather loops by her belt. Garen's eyes track the movement of her hand before drifting to her bare midriff and scandalously tight leather breeches.

He clears his throat and meets her eyes once again.

"And to what do I owe this most unexpected—though by no means unwelcome—pleasure?"

Katarina purrs as she takes in Garen's form.

"Must there be a reason?"

Once again, Garen supposes not.

"Impatience. How could you expect me to wait until after the feast to taste your lips?" She cocks her head to the side and looks Garen up and down. "Especially after the show you gave me from your window this morning."

Garen flushes beet red. He stumbles for words and Katarina laughs at the sight. She puts him out of his misery by planting her lips on his. When she breaks the kiss, he keeps her in his arms.

"I must confess," She sighs. "There was a reason for my visit; Darius wants me in his squad during the melee today. I thought it only right that I should warn you. Last year's personal defeat at your hand stung his pride. He's determined to be the one to bring you down today, but wants me on hand in case things aren't going his way. I trust you realise that I won't hold back."

The news is unexpected, but unsurprising. Though Katarina usually keeps to the single combat lists, Garen knows it was only a matter of time before the Hand of Noxus drafted her for the squad melee. He nods stoically.

"I would expect nothing less," he says, his voice a bass rumble rattling through Katarina's chest. "You have your loyalty, as I have mine."

No more words are exchanged. The two remain in an embrace for a time, though they both know that soon it must come to an end. Their countrymen will be expecting them, and no matter how much they might will against it, they must both play their parts. Garen is the first to move. Clearing his throat he pulls away from the embrace and checks the sun through his window.

"You should leave now," he says. "The camps will be waking. Good luck in the field."

Katarina flashes a smirk.

"You'll need it more than me, Crownguard." She kisses him once more before checking the hallway to make sure the coast is clear. "Good luck, my love."

My love. The words echo in Garen's mind long after Katarina is gone. For the first time in his life he curses his Demacian heritage. Loyalty, duty and honour compel him to denounce the Du Couteau girl and all she stands for. Yet his heart yearns for her company. Each year the burden grows heavier. Their annual trysts add more fuel to the growing flames of their passion. He sighs. My heart and sword, always for Demacia; the words he once uttered with fierce pride now ring hollow.

Katarina steadies her breathing as the melee begins. Garen's Dauntless Vanguard rush onto the field to engage the Noxian forces, the clatter of their wooden weapons echoing all around. She lingers in the back rows and watches the fight as it begins to unfold. Scanning the faces, she picks out the object of her painful affection. He and Darius have yet to clash. With a mighty cleave he knocks a Noxian drone unconscious, the sheer percussive impact too much for the weakling to handle. Katarina smirks. He's in good form today. Darius doesn't stand a chance. But she will.

A Demacian grunt catches her eye. He's broken formation, standing out to the side alone and unaware of the mistake he's just made. Katarina springs into action. Taking careful note of her position, she prepares her escape even before making her first move. She blinks toward the grunt faster than his eye can see. The first thing he notices is the dagger flying towards his face. It's too late to dodge. Dazed by the impact he fumbles as he tries to raise his sword.

Dagger reclaimed, Katarina is already behind him. Taking his legs with lightning speed, she brings her foe down, sealing his defeat with a boot to the helmet to ensure he doesn't try to recover. In a heartbeat she returns to the safety of the backline.

Darius has engaged her secret lover by now and the two are yelling at their squad mates to stay out of their way. Watching them fight is almost hypnotic. Darius is a brute; all muscle and no style. But what he lacks in flair, he makes up for with a certain rugged practicality. Each of his blows is measured. No more and no less than is necessary. Garen is much the same, though Katarina has to admit there's a certain degree of charm when he spins that enormous blade of his around.

For a few moments, all eyes are on the Hand of Noxus and the Might of Demacia. The Noxians seize the opportunity and attempt to strike at the Dauntless Vanguard while they're distracted. Katarina raises an eyebrow. They did the same thing last year.

A wry smile spreads over her lips as the Dauntless Vanguard's counterattack takes the Noxian forces by surprise. As dull as he might seem, even Garen is too smart to fall for the same trick twice. The spectacle had all been bait. Well played, Crownguard. While Katarina took no pleasure in seeing her comrades defeated, a part of her felt a degree of pride in Garen's display of low cunning. Perhaps I can make a Noxian of you yet.

Dropping like flies, Kat watches her countrymen fall victim to the Dauntless Vanguard. In her eyes forms a malefic glint. Now is the time to enter the fray. In the blink of an eye she's amongst the enemy. Whirling around, she flings wooden daggers at every foe in sight. It's a dance she's practiced well. Despite the Vanguard's armour, Katarina's daggers fly true towards the openings in their helmets. They face a choice: dive out of the way, or take a chunk of wood to the face. Either way Katarina knows she'll enjoy the result.

A handful scatter. A few more think they can handle a dagger to the face. In seconds they're clutching their wounds and regretting their decisions. Smirk spreading across her lips, Katarina finishes her flurry. Her heart pounds in her chest. Adrenaline floods her system. She's gotten the taste for it now. With her regrouped comrades once more in the fight, she blinks between her foes, striking at their exposed weaknesses and hurling daggers with frightful precision.

"Du Couteau," Darius snaps. "Finish this oaf!"

Without stopping to observe the confusion she's sewn in the ranks of the Dauntless Vanguard, she's by Darius' side. Pathetic, she thinks as she notices him sprawled out on the ground at the Crownguard's feet. That wry smile returns to her lips as her pulse increases once more. Her fingers twitch around the handles of her daggers and she readjusts her grip. Garen stands before her, enormous wooden blade at the ready. He didn't break a sweat. I'm going to enjoy this.

Her first move is to hurl a dagger. Garen's eyes widen as he notices the thing flying towards him. She smirks as he grits his teeth and summons his strength. The dagger hits his jaw and manages to draw blood, but the brute seems unfazed. Katarina's smirk grows. He charges her. Here we go.

Swinging in a quick arc, the wooden greatsword comes towards her. It's a telegraphed attack and Kat steps to the side. She parries with her left hand dagger, just to be safe, but they both know the attack was just to test the waters. As she moves to counterattack, Garen's huge muscled arm lashes out to stop her in her tracks. She steps behind him before he can even blink.

Overtaken by déjà vu, Katarina pauses for a split-second. It's a split-second too long. Garen spins with his blade outstretched, catching her uncovered flank and sending her cart wheeling away. She lands on her feet. That was foolish of me.

"Too slow, Du Couteau," Garen says, lopsided smirk forming on his lips. A wicked grin plays over Katarina as she flashes teeth.

The Noxian blinks towards her foe, spinning viciously with blades outstretched. Garen takes a hit. And then another. And then another. She catches him in all the weakest spots of his armour, even his unprotected face. He staggers back a step. Katarina stops spinning in time to land one last blow that catches him square in the jaw. Then she notices that huge weapon of his as its shadow blocks out the sun.

The blade comes down before Kat can get out of the way. She manages to lift her arm to catch the wooden blade before it reaches her. It's a futile attempt. The initial impact feels like a blow from one of the Zaunite war machines. Katarina yelps as the weapon continues, smashing her arm into her face and sending her sprawling. Her head spins and her arm stings. She shakes her head. Coming to her senses she finds that, amazingly, she's still on her feet. That was close.

Once more Garen grins as he brings his sword back into a guard. Still a little dazed Katarina brings up her own daggers when she notices his smile fade, overtaken by a frown as he looks to her side. He raises his hand as if to signal a halt. Then Katarina feels the blow as it takes her off her feet.

Snarling, she looks up to see one of the Dauntless Vanguard towering above her. The victory horn is sounded. The Demacians take the day. The crowd roars. Katarina looks at their faces. Most of them are smallfolk from the surrounding lands. A handful of noisy Demacians stand on the side of the tourney grounds closest to the keep. The Noxians opposite stay sullen and silent.

Over the din of the crowd, the Sinister Blade can hear her Demacian flame shouting at his underling.

"Du Couteau was mine!" he roars. His rage is cut short by the lord of the keep proclaiming the Demacian victory. As Katarina pulls herself from the ground she sees him seething. He's cute when he's angry.

Crimson rays from the setting sun engulf the keep in a fantastic glow as the feast begins. The burning light spills into the great hall through arrow slits and stained glass windows, mingling with candlelight and hearth fire. The lord of the keep, an unimportant petty noble with ties to neither Noxus nor Demacia, sits at the largest table surrounded by his family and a few of his bannermen. Two long tables run along the length of the hall; one for Demacia and one for Noxus.

Garen's mood has improved over the day, though a hint of sourness remains. Tarwen Greywood, the lieutenant responsible for defeating Katarina Du Couteau has been barred from the feast. Garen takes a sip of his wine and sighs. It's a Demacian red, and a fine vintage at that, but wine isn't what he wants to taste right now. There's only one thing on his mind. She's sitting across the room from him with a face like thunder.

She'll have been chastised by Darius. Probably the other Noxians, too, Garen muses. As the last to fall, all eyes had been on her. Her defeat in the squad melee had marked the first in succession of losses. The Noxians had failed to win victory in a single tourney this year. Fiora of House Laurent dominated the single combat lists, and Quinn soared to victory in the marksmanship contests.

To Garen's right sits the Grand Duelist herself. She looks almost as miserable as Katarina, though that's to be expected. She's notorious in her disdain for others. With a sneer she looks to her right. Quinn is sitting there, feeding Valor a few morsels from her fingertips. Garen tries to suppress a smirk. That kind of behaviour is generally frowned upon by the nobles, and normally even he would be somewhat put-off. But the thought of Fiora's silent rage makes him appreciate the act. The ranger-knight's eyes meet his, and he smiles and nods. Fiora lets out a quiet growl and drains her cup.

On Garen's left sits something of a surprise. Shauna Vayne. A tragic soul, it's rare to even see her in the daylight. Everybody knows the story. The claims that a demon could have breached Demacia's petricite walls. And everybody knows how she spends her nights. Garen thinks for a few moments. She's never turned up to a summit before. Instinctively Garen tenses. If Shauna Vayne is here, foul magics can't be far. He glances down at the goblet before her. Water. She wants to keep a clear head.

From one place over, a voice calls out to Garen. Shauna leans back to allow the two to converse freely. His sister Lux beams at him. The surprises keep coming. His sister, a member of the enigmatic Radiant Ones, is another rare sight these days. Garen doesn't know exactly how she serves, but he has some theories. None of them are pleasant.

"Garen!"

Despite the dark secrets his sister might hide, he can't help but smile; it's been a long time since he last heard her cheery voice.

"Luxanna, this is a surprise."

"I saw you in the melee, way to make our name shine!"

Garen smiles once more and thanks his sister for her words of praise.

"So, Luxanna, what brings you to the summit? Are the Radiant Ones thinking of participating in the squad melee next year?"

"Ooh sibling rivalry! How fun!" she beamed. "But... the truth is I'm here on Illuminator business."

Garen nods and leaves the matter at that. The reality is, he doesn't even want to know, lest the truth about his sister's service confirm his suspicions. She lingers for a moment, leaning over Vayne's place at the table and looking at her brother. The younger Crownguard opens her mouth as if to speak but changes her mind. Garen watches as her eyes cross the room and fix themselves on Katarina. She looks back at her brother. What was that about? She couldn't know, Garen thinks. Could she? She knows. How could she know? Lux simply smiles once more and shrinks back into her seat.

Garen flushes, an unpleasant heat engulfing him as he goes over the implications in his mind. For a few moments he stares at the space in front of him. Finally he decides that he's in no danger. His sister is hardly above scrutiny herself. He nods, convincing himself. But if Lux knows... who else might? He looks around at his fellow Demacians.

Quinn is lowborn despite her elite status as a ranger-knight. Even if she's perceptive enough to know, her words would carry little weight. Fiora is deep in her cups. Far too drunk to notice anything. She's even blissfully unaware of Valor perching just beside her on Quinn's shoulder. Garen turns his gaze towards Shauna Vayne. Behind the crimson lenses of her glasses she looks back at him and raises an eyebrow. She inclines her head slightly in Katarina's direction. When Garen's eyes widen, she brings a finger up to her lips and mouths 'shush'.

The relief that washes over Garen is palpable. His shoulders drop and he eases back into his seat. The feast drags on, and the lord of the keep gives a dreary speech about the honour of hosting such a summit once again. Once he's finished, King Jarvan the Third's representative takes floor and follows with another equally dreary speech. The king himself is far too important to risk coming to the summit in person. Even under a sworn truce, neither of the nations trust one another. Garen steals a glance at his red haired flame. She's just as unenthused as the rest of them by the endless monologue. The Might of Demacia drains his goblet of wine and wishes the time away.

Katarina's breath tastes like bitter ale and woodsmoke. Garen can't decide if it's the wine or Katarina's intoxicating beauty, but he feels his head swimming as they kiss. Their tongues battle for dominance as candlelit shadows paint a blackened tableaux on the wall behind. Kat lets slip an eager grunt when Garen's weight pushes her against the heavy oaken door. Adjusting her stance, she rests on the wooden bar keeping the door locked and wraps her legs around Garen's waist.

Hips buck and heat rises as the pair deepen their embrace. Garen rubs himself against the Noxian assassin, his solid member threatening tear out of his breeches at any moment. Through the supple leather of her leggings, Katarina feels her lover's eagerness. Even with all their clothing between them, his prick rubs against her nub and sends a jolt of pleasure jumping up Katarina's spine. She purrs into his mouth.

Finally, Garen cedes some ground in the battle of tongues. He retreats from the fight and focuses his efforts elsewhere. His hands get to work finding his foe's weak points. His left snakes down her side, following her curves and gently stroking her waist before it comes to rest on her rump. Free from its prior engagement, Garen directs his mouth towards Katarina's unguarded ear, nibbling the lobe and then moving southwards to her exposed neck while his right hand grabs a tuft of hair and curls slowly into a fist. Katarina stifles a gasp.

Distracted, Katarina is caught unaware by the sudden assault. Fighting back in the only way she can, she runs a hand through Garen's neatly cropped hair. Her spare hand explores her aggressor. Each finger takes in every detail of his muscles as they glide from place to place. First his shoulder, then his biceps and back up again. Soon she's running her hands across his chest, the taut muscles tightening further under her caress. Her breath catches when Garen's attack on her neck becomes too much to bear. In a desperate attempt to regain control, she grinds against him. She feels it rather than hears it; a barely perceptible jump in Garen's chest as he fights down a grunt.

Pulling hair and biting down on unprotected neckflesh, Garen punishes his opponent. She yields and lets out a delighted moan. Satisfied with his victory, the Might of Demacia pulls back. He locks eyes with his lover. Katarina stares back, flushed and wide-eyed with lust. In an instant the pair separate. Within seconds Katarina is standing by the bed as Garen pulls his tabard over his head to expose his chiselled physique. Kat bites her lip. He's simply sublime. With a swagger more befitting of a Noxian warlord, Garen strides towards his red haired lover.

Katarina lets him push her down onto the bed. His strong arms hold her wrists above her head as he towers above her. He leans in for a kiss, short and sweet, before he gets to work removing her brassiere. The small jacket she wore during the melee had been the first garment to go. With his foe submitting to his every will, the bra comes off in no time. Katarina's chest stands exposed. Garen forgets about her wrists in favour of the new targets. He runs his hands over them, kneading those soft globes of Noxian flesh.

Arching her back, Katarina shuts her eyes and nestles a hand in Garen's crop of chestnut hair. Before too long he grows dissatisfied with only his hands. His mouth moves down to her chest. Her nipples, two ripe cherries ready for plucking, await him. Katarina gyrates her hips instinctively when he laps at one of those buds with his tongue before teasing it with his teeth. Pleased with her reaction, Garen bites down gently on the ever hardening nub. Echoing his previous moves, Katarina curls her hand into a fist and pulls his hair as she takes a deep breath.

Moving away from her chest, Garen turns his attention further south. One hand spreads out across Katarina's stomach, her toned abs tensing with the new sensation. His free hand continues downwards. He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of her leather breeches and begins to pull them down. Slowly, the darkened leather gives way to pale Noxian skin. Garen is treated to a little peek of neatly trimmed flame red hair as he pulls away the leggings and disentangles her fingers from his hair.

More skin reveals itself painfully slowly as Garen continues his work. The tattoo on his lover's side grows longer. Finally, Katarina's flower makes an appearance, already glistening and ready. Garen pauses for a moment, unconsciously, as he admires her dripping quim. It had been too long since he'd had a taste of that sweet nectar. Doing away with his teasing, he peels off what remains of her leather breeches in a hurry.

Spreading her legs, Garen runs his hands up the length of her thighs. Katarina feels herself growing wetter and wetter in anticipation. She bites a knuckle and runs her free hand over her chest, kneading her breasts as she watches her Demacian conqueror drawing nearer and nearer to her core. When she feels his breath against her most sensitive place, she returns a hand to his hair and gently guides him further. She gasps at the first broad stroke of his tongue. He laps up her honey with long licks along the length of her slit. Tightening her grip on his hair, Katarina takes a nipple between her finger and thumb.

Garen keeps up his oral assault, eager to drink every last drop of Katarina's arousal. Her breaths become shallow as her thighs lock around her lover, keeping him in place, savouring every moment of his touch. Picking up the pace Garen abandons his broad strokes, favouring instead quick lashes against smaller but altogether more delicate targets; first her opening, then moving upwards to her clit. It's not long before Katarina finds herself buckling under the new attack. Her thighs tighten. She pulls his hair ever harder. Still, Garen keeps pace, flicking at her nub in a relentless assault.

Katarina's breath grows heavier with each passing moment. The sweat begins to bead, first along her forehead, then her chest. Garen keeps up the tempo. She bites her lip to fight back a moan as her body begins to tense. It's no use. She lets out a yelp and pinches a nipple as her whole body tenses and relaxes. The Might of Demacia remains unfazed and keeps fighting on. Another yelp escapes her lips, and another. They come in waves as her abs and legs tense up and give way. At last she throws her head back and lets go. A breathless whimper escapes her lips as her legs shake. Garen feels the twitching as fresh rivulets of Katarina's nectar drip from her aching sex. With broad strokes of his talented tongue he lets not a drop go to waste.

Panting, Katarina goes limp for a brief moment. Her head spins as she tries to come to her senses. Garen moves up the bed to look into his lover's glazed eyes. He plants a kiss on her lips and strokes a sweat-matted crimson lock out of her face while she catches her breath and gathers her wits. Without a word spoken, Katarina looks into Garen's eyes and signals that she's ready for round two.

Satisfied with his success, Garen steps off the bed and climbs out of his breeches, sighing softly when his prick springs forth for air. Katarina eyes his member. Before Garen can make a move himself, she takes him in her mouth. For a moment the pair stand still. Her mouth is wet and warm and silky smooth. Her hot breath steams over his cock. Garen can't stand the teasing any longer. With his heavy hands he pulls Katarina closer towards him, burying himself deeper in her throat. She suppresses her gag reflex as a wet grunt escapes her lips.

Mouth split wide to accommodate his girth, Katarina slurps at the gathering saliva. Garen moans with the sensation and begins to slide his cock out from the depths of the Noxian's throat. Barely a moment passes before Katarina takes it back in, deeper than before. Garen strokes her hair as she bobs back and forth. He moans a deep baritone rumble as she looks up at him, grinning with her eyes.

Eyes water as Katarina takes him completely. Garen can see the bulge in her throat as she manages to suppress her gag reflex for a time. Gasping for air, Kat finally lets up. Garen's cock slides out of her mouth leaving thick trails of gooey saliva linking the pair. Breath regained, Katarina cleans his girthy member with a final slurp, savouring the salty bead of precum leaking from his end.

"Alright Crownguard, you won the tourneys... show me how a Demacian really fights." Katarina winks at her lover and falls back onto the bed.

Garen wastes no time. Wrapping her ankles around his neck he lifts Kat's legs into the air, exposing her dripping cunt in all its Noxian glory. One hand wraps its fingers around her throat as the other guides his prick towards her slit. The pair sigh in unison as he guides himself into his lover. Slowly, his fat head strokes her lips as it nears her entrance. Her womanhood stretches to accommodate the newfound thickness making its way inside. Katarina's breath hitches in her throat as it spreads her walls further. Each inch feels like a mile as he buries himself between her legs.

Buried as far as he can go, Garen savours the moment. Slick with arousal, her tight walls stretch around his cock. He leans in for a kiss. Katarina grabs his head and keeps him there, tongues battling as her hips gyrate out of desperation. Garen senses her eagerness and begins to pull his cock outwards before thrusting back in. Kat bites his lip when he brushes her sensitive spot.

Flesh claps against flesh as Garen picks up the pace, hammering in to his lover. He breaks the kiss and begins to tighten his grip on her throat. Katarina grabs his huge muscled arm with one hand. Her other trails down towards her sensitive nub. As Garen squeezes harder, she rubs herself in time with his heavy thrusts. Short on breath, she weakly tries to move his hand from her throat. The Demacian cedes no ground, instead squeezing tighter and thrusting deeper.

Eyes flutter shut with each thrust as Katarina feels herself moving closer and closer to ecstasy. Garen's iron grip never falters, and every time his cock slams inside her a jolt of perfectly balanced pain and pleasure shoots up her spine. Rubbing her clit in overtime, she begins to feel faint as Garen's hand cuts off her breath. Her partner knows this dance all too well. At the crucial moment, he relinquishes his hold.

Katarina's eyes roll back in their sockets as she gasps for air. Garen can feel her cunt twitching and clenching over his cock as she climaxes. Still, he keeps up his pace, thrusting deep and hard. He almost comes himself as he looks down at the naked Noxian before him, each of her well toned muscles tensing and releasing in time with the walls clamping around his prick. But he's not finished yet.

Following his guidance in an orgasm induced trance, Katarina finds herself on all fours. One of Garen's hands nestles itself in her hair, and the other trails along her sweat-slick back before resting on her rump. Garen squeezes the flesh hard and spreads her cheeks. For a moment he considers her forbidden hole. But the sight of her swollen quim, still aching for more, is too much to ignore. Once again he slides inside her cunt. Katarina moans as his familiar girth spreads her once more.

Like an animal, Garen pounds his lover. Using her hair like a leash, he keeps her head arched back as he slams into her with all his body weight. Grunting with every thrust, Garen feels himself coming closer and closer to the end. He shifts Katarina's legs, bringing them tighter together. Kat moans at the increased pressure inside her cunt. Resting all her weight on one hand, she begins to rub herself once more.

A hoarse moan escapes Garen's lips as he yanks Katarina's hair. She knows that sound. He throbs inside her. She feels each pulse and rubs her nub to climax along with her lover. With each pump, he sprays his seed inside her. Kat's walls begin to twitch once more, milking Garen's cock for every last drop. He pulls himself out, shooting the final band of his sticky load over her nether lips. Katarina's fingers massage his cream into her clit as she rides out the final wave of her orgasm.

Garen and Katarina collapse next to each other, spent. Garen's mind, only this morning filled with doubt and turmoil, empties. He places an arm around his Noxian lover. He feels her warmth against him as she lays her head on his chest and listens to his heartbeat. He looks up at the roof above him, ears filled with the soft sounds of Katarina's breath. My heart and sword, always... for you.