Weeks have passed. Weeks of pain, agony and mental torment. The aftermath of the initiation is still gnawing at you, as are the demonic powers flowing through your veins.
You rage war with yourself everyday, fighting down the demon, the voices that are haunting you from within. You got your first tattoos as a Demonhunter, a procedure almost as painful as the initiation itself, but you wear them with pride.
You refuse to give in to the forces that are at war inside you, bringing them down again and again with the sheer force of your will to survive and to be a part of something greater. You have seen what Illidan has seen.
All those worlds lying dead, devastated by the Burning Legion. The destruction, pain and desecration were unbearable to witness, so unbearable, you blinded yourself, your eyes becoming the same glowing green sockets you already have seen when looking in the faces of other Demonhunters.
Now you are a part of the Illidari. You fight and train with them, you feel them, and together you hunt down the minions that are sent to thwart Lord Illidan's plans. Demons after demons pour from portals you are sent to close. Sometimes your new master and mentor himself accompanies you and the others.
Other than then, you seldom get to see him. Despite being among his followers, Illidan seems to be lost in thought and almost forlorn at times. No one except you seems to notice - or maybe they just pretend they don't.
He never shares more than rough plans in the meetings with his Illidari council, his highest advisors. No one knows more than that he wants to carry the fight to the Legion, to its heart.
You don't care. You have witnessed his cunningness and intellect, and you trust him.
What you do care about is his loneliness.
You sneak into the innermost sanctum of the Black Temple to find out what troubles your Lord.
You find him bowed over maps and maps and maps, star charts and alchemistic calculations, books of runes and sorcery.
Sneaking closer, observing his sharp features and the leathery wings, you feel a gentle longing in your chest.
You want to help him, bring him whatever he needs, slay the demons that haunt him.
"You should know by now that it is barely possible to sneak up on me." Lord Illidan's dark voice sounds half annoyed, half amused. Propping up an elbow, he lays his chin in his hand, looking in your general direction.
You leave the shadows of your observation post, slowly stepping a little closer towards the man.
"It has been a while since someone was so insolent as to seek out these chambers. Everyone knows they are off limits, unless they are called here."
Illidan rises from his chair.
"However, it might even be possible I called you. The first demonhunter born not from hatred against the Legion."
As he closes the distance between you, you do not look away, holding his fel-green gaze.
A hand wraps around your chin, claws digging into it softly, teasingly. A slow smile spreads across Illidan's face. "Maybe you are the key.. The key to wielding power without all the sacrifice."
"There must always be a sacrifice," you respond.
"Certainly. But maybe not as much as many of us needed to endure." He spreads his wings slightly, studying your face.
Lifting your chin a little more towards his face, he bows down, dropping his voice to an alluring murmur. "Tell me why you became a demonhunter, Illidari."
"I wanted bonds. Friendship. A family. A reason to fight for. I felt drawn to your leadership, Lord Illidan," you answer quietly.
Another slow smile, dark and satisfied.
He lets go of your chin and turns. "Intriguing. And what made you break the rules of this Temple and come here, Illidari?"
"Your loneliness," you answer. Seeing how he lifts his eyebrows in an almost unbelieving way, you put your chin forward.
"So in a way you indeed called me here, Lord Illidan."
"Clearly," he says dryly, but there is this wicked grin on his face that makes your stomach lurch in anticipation.
Looking back to the myriads of books, charts and calculations on his huge table, he seems to consider your words.
Nodding, as if he made up his mind, he closes the gap between you once more, bowing down. His breath caresses your ear and nape as he speaks, the voice dark and alluring.
"Will you keep me company, then?" he asks, weaving one hand through your hair, tugging lightly until you present him your throat.
You swallow, feeling the heat he emanates, feeling the heat that rises within yourself.
When his lips glide over your neck, you close your eyes.
"Yes, Lord Illidan," you answer with slightly rough voice.
You feel another smile spreading across his face where his lips touch your flesh. Effortlessly, he pushes you back against the nearest wall, caging you in a strong embrace that baths you in heat.
The ridges of his muscles press firmly against you, his tattoos casting a greenish glow over the both of you.
Lord Illidan grazes his sharp teeth teasingly over your neck, before his lips catch on your left collar bone to suck it. Your own hands tremble with anticipation, daring to weave into the raven black hair covering his nape.
He only lets go of you so you can strip off your armor and clothes. Instead of helping you getting open clasps and strings and bindings, he lets his gaze roam over you, his lips twisted upwards in a mocking smile, a hint of appreciation in it.
Your heart beats like a wardrum for him.
He's upon you, the moment the last piece of cloth falls to the floor. This time, he kisses you.
While his huge hands caress your body hungrily from the shoulders down the front to the hips, his lips and tongue remain surprisingly gentle.
Your breath catches harder than any fight would make you when his fingers reach your heated, swollen nethers, massaging and taunting, bringing you to the verge quickly.
But he doesn't push you over the edge yet.
Instead, he lifts you up and against the wall with both hands on your ass, high enough his mouth can roam your naked torso without his horns getting in the way, his hot tongue licking over nipples and muscles, making you writhe in sweetest agony.
His silken hair slips from your fingers. You grip his curved, rough horns instead, throwing back your head in another moan of pleasure as he lifts you even higher to reach your nethers again, tending to your needs with his lips and tongue.
"Lord Illidan….," you rasp, warning him, begging him. You will not last long under such delicious ministration.
He chuckles darkly, satisfied. When he's looking up to you, you see mischief on his face, his loneliness and fatigue washed away by lust.
It makes you proud. It makes you bold.
You gasp for him, when he slides a finger inside you, first one, then a second. You expected pain, inevitably so with the claws his hands are featuring. But there is nothing but the glorious feeling of something filling you.
It's not enough, but enough so you complain with a little hiss when the fingers vanish.
"Such impatience," he murmurs, half a chuckle escaping him again. His dark, rough voice makes you shiver in anticipation, caressing your senses just as intense as his hands or tongue are.
Slowly, he lets you down far enough so he's towering you again. Tilting his head forward and sideways, Illidan bites your earlobe just so it hurts. "If you want me inside you, you have to free me yourself."
You try to shake off enough of the enticing haze that clouds your mind to make sense of his words. Your gaze falls upon the huge bulge in his tight pants. Licking your lips, you undo the binding with shaking hands, his glowing eyes upon you all the time.
When you rub your hand over the hard flesh straining against the fabric, he growls, his hips twitching greedily against your fingers. You rub harder, and Lord Illidan moans harshly.
Suddenly more than impatient, you pry open the binding of his pants as far as possible, yanking them down enough you can undo the loin cloth.
Finally, your hands are able to feel his erected, hard flesh, silken smooth and dripping for you.
"Hold on tight, Illidari," he warns you. You barely have time to react, wrapping your arms around his neck just in time before he lifts you a bit, prodding your entrance with his wet tip.
Despite the hunger, the fervor in his eyes, he eases into you slowly, a little bit farther with every push.
Your nails dig into his back.
And then he's inside you, starting to thrust painfully slow at first. Only when you snarl at him does he pick up the pace, dark satisfaction and a beautiful bliss on his face. The picture burns into your memory.
You lose yourself in the rhythmic sound of breathing and flesh against flesh. It is glorious, a warm, devouring feeling of lust.
Soon, the heat becomes unbearable. The edge is coming closer, almost excruciatingly sweet.
You take one arm from Illidan's neck to bring it between you, massaging your own nethers impatiently.
"I want to hear my name," he demands, his breath close to your ear again, his tongue licking over it.
His command makes you moan. The edge does a sudden leap and as you are pushed over it, sweetness and tingling explode inside you. Obedient, you cry out his name, forgetting his title, savoring the taste of it on your lips. He rewards you with a ravenous kiss and thrusts harder, deeper, finally coming hot inside you.
His breath is harsh, ragged. You feel his body tremble under his release. And then, with his delicious dark voice, he whispers your name.