"I hate shopping." Lux surveyed the vast ranks of dresses and groaned loudly. Though it was early in the morning, the aisles were already crowded by Summoners. Everyone was eagerly browsing at nearest specialty dress shop, Calrutti Silk & Co. It clung to the outskirts of the Institute, alongside a few farmer's markets, arcades and tech shops.
"How the hell do you hate shopping? It's recreational. Fun." Kat glanced at her and elbowed a woman out of her way before frowning at a price tag. "Do Demacians really not like fun?"
"I never had time for it." She tugged on a dark blue gown thinking that looks nice, then remembered Ezreal's comments and got mad again. "I never got the practice."
"Pffft. Good thing you're with me, then. I'm an expert." Kat assessed Lux's waist by cupping her hands around it, then dragged her to the aisle mysteriously marked 4.
Lux's teeth ground together. Someone stepped on her shoe and apologized. "How did you have time to shop so much when you were third-in-command? Did the Noxians not make you do anything?"
Kat froze. She turned to Lux with a frosty smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Someone's cranky if they're already bringing the army into this."
"I was a General, too." Not that Ezreal ever treats me like that. Lux scowled. "I had too many things to do to — waste time like this." Because I actually deserved my rank instead of sleeping with Saint Garamond the way you slept with Darius. And every other General. That wasn't a pedophile.
Kat knew what she was thinking and shook her head. "Sweetheart. Really? You wanna know why I had so much free time?"
"Why?"
"Because the Noxians get shit done." Kat pulled a yellow silk dress off the shelf and handed it to the shopping aide following at a respectful distance behind them. Then Kat surveyed Lux's breasts and added a deep, v-neck purple one as well. That'll get Bitchboy's dick hard enough to stop monopolizing my boyfriend.
Lux pouted. "We got things done too."
"Yeah. Eventually." Kat snorted. "When they told me to stab a guy, you know what I did? I stabbed him. I didn't ask why or think about why."
Lux's fists clenched. Because you blindly followed —
"— Blindly followed figureheads?" Kat chuckled — all Noxians were at least mildly psychic — and threw a green one into the mix. The shopping aide's arms were shaking. "Don't get me started on your battle saints. Bet you never questioned them, did you?"
Lux hesitated, then sighed. "No."
"Exactly." Kat smirked. "Now lighten up before I fuck you with a stick of sugarcane."
Lux punched her on the shoulder, and Kat smiled. She was actually deeply irritated with Lux for suggesting she hadn't done shit in the army. Yeah, tell that to the forty-two Captains I killed with my bare hands. Or how about that battle-saint-in-training I took out? Bitch, please.
And when the shopping aide let them both into the dressing room, Kat suddenly saw the opportunity for revenge. It was a medium-sized room with mirrors on all sides and a glossy leather couch. The lighting was dim, the silver lamps shaped like upside-down tulips. Letters spelling out Live Life to Its Fullest ran around the ceiling.
Kat hung the dresses on a pewter hook and watched Lux look in the mirror. The Demacian was frowning slightly at what she saw as fat. Her crankiness was gone, replaced by this — this vulnerability in her light blue eyes.
Kat sighed, disgusted. Jeez. She really doesn't think she's cute enough for the Prodigal Fuckass, does she?
How could she not think she was cute? Kat thought she was cute. Lux's tits were squeezed against the front of her skin-tight white shirt, her nipples hard little buttonpoints at either side of the blue Demacian crest. Her hands were on those flared, taut hips, hair pulled back into a cute ponytail.
And her ass was tiny, true, but it was still there. Kat actually liked the way her long skinny legs led up to the delicate curves. So thinking, Kat stood behind Lux and slid her hand up between her thighs.
Lux whipped around. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Consider it payment for taking your cranky ass shopping," Kat said, and kissed her neck. She felt Lux's muscles tense. She didn't know whether to flee the assassin or not, but wasn't given the chance. Kat squeezed her wrists and pulled them to her sides, pushing Lux's breasts out even farther as her back arched.
"I don't really know —"
"Shut up," Kat whispered in her ear, then licked her neck as it broke into goosebumps. "You have to get naked anyways, don't you?"
"But —"
Kat pulled Lux's jeans to her knees, then squeezed her hand in between the Demacian's tightly-clenched thighs and began to rub her crevice through her underwear. Lux was watching Kat's hand move in the mirror, her lips slightly parted. The Noxian's dexterous fingertips spread her apart. Then Kat pushed the panties aside and stuck her index finger deep inside her roughly.
Lux gasped, sounding almost terrified, and fell back against Kat. The assassin heard the other dressing rooms go silent and slapped her hand over Lux's mouth. "I told you to shut up."
"You're raping m —"
"Shhh!" There was a light knock on the door. Kat ignored it and worked her fingers harder. Lux's thighs were firmly pressed around her hand. She squeezed her clit, rubbed it, squeezed it again. Lux's moaning got louder, as did the knocking. The mirrors let Kat watch Luxanna come from every angle — get to see everything, from her breasts bouncing up and down as her chest heaved, to her ass jiggling as she rode Kat's hand. Her underwear, strangely enough, had strawberries on it.
When she went limp, Kat let her fall back onto the couch.
"Excuse me?" The voice at the door was muffled.
"Five minutes, please!" Kat called. She got on top of Lux and glared at her. Lux instinctively flinched away — too many of her comrades had fallen to Kat just like this. "Bet you couldn't fuck your way to the top if you tried."
"What does that mean?" She asked shrilly. Kat didn't answer — she was too busy sucking and kneading the soft inner curves of Lux's thighs. Lux panicked and froze up again, but couldn't stop Kat's questing tongue. It flicked the inner arch between her legs, then drove in deep. Lux screamed.
"EXCUSE ME?!" That Ionian-tinged accent had to be Mr. Calrutti of Calrutti Silk & Co. himself. Kat debated briefly, then flung the door open, thinking distantly I think we need to get Ryland help.
She was pleasantly surprised. It was a tall, dark-haired man. His light-blue eyes reminded her a bit of the Freljord, his handsome jawline a bit like Ryland's. He peered over her shoulders and immediately got an erection.
He saw the lust on Kat's face and licked his lips. "Is there a problem here?"
"Do you want there to be?" Kat's eyes flicked to his.
Mr. Calrutti — one of Runeterra's wealthiest businessmen — looked behind him and stepped inside. He locked the door with the master-key dangling from his beltloop.
Lux struggled, but the jeans around her knees prevented her from moving very far. "Wait, this isn't —"
"So this is the lovely lady, eh?" Calrutti's dick emerged from his tasteful silk pants, decently sized and curving slightly to the right. Kat pulled Lux's hair, dragged her face towards him, deeply excited. Oh man. It's almost like I'm at home again.
"But —"
"Relax, yes?" Calrutti jammed his dick down Lux's throat. Kat held her there, trying not to laugh as Lux's hands frantically pawed at thin air. She watched the mirrors as Lux's head bobbed back and forth, moved by the force of Calrutti's dick and Kat tugging on her ponytail. She was choking.
He pulled out and came all over her face. Kat watched as it dripped down her cheeks, dribbled across her lips. Her eyes were wide.
Poor Lux, Kat thought, and cackled. "That's what you get. I killed way more men than you did."
Calrutti looked at Kat in alarm and suddenly recognized her. He zipped his pants up and backed away. He cleared his throat. "Erm. This does not happen often."
"I fucking hope not." Kat eyed him. "It'd either be really bad or good for business."
"Probably bad. Most of the women who come here are, how you say, frigid. Or uninterested on the night before their weddings." He swallowed hard. He obviously had a gang background — he was glancing over Katarina for knives. Knew where to look, too. Her waist, the sleeves of her shirt, around her bra.
Kat snorted and shook her head. "Classy."
His smile was nothing short of brilliant. "But! As you two have been wonderful customers, you'll be receiving your three gowns for free." He air-kissed both of Katarina's cheeks and vanished. "Ta - shakti tante!"
"Ta -shakti?" Kat frowned. She'd heard that somewhere before. Maybe he did have a little Freljord in him. She grinned and looked at the sputtering General. And maybe Lux's got a little Freljord on her face.
"Soraka?"
"Yes?"
Nami cleared her throat anxiously. "What if Karma says no?"
Soraka paused, then casually stepped around the two Summoners in their way. The dark-haired man was holding his iced coffee out with one hand as he frantically kissed the wisp of a blonde girl before him. There was at least a decade separating them.
Nami shook her head in mild disapproval and continued to glide along.
"Then we will have to make other plans. Part of being a Support is changing, adapting to the world around us." She spotted a boy with eager hands groping a voluptuous Noxian Summoner's jug-sized breasts and felt her face flush.
She swallowed hard. The boy looked just a bit like Ezreal. Enough to make her uncomfortable.
"And if that world includes sexual territory we're unfamiliar with, we must press on." She saw Nami's hesitation and sighed patiently. "Yes?"
"Is it because he's Noxian?" Nami blurted.
The question of the ages, Soraka thought wearily. Just what did one do who looked, walked and sounded like a Noxian king, shared his name with the most famous one, and claimed to do a healer's work? Care for him. Of course.
She saw Nami's deep amber eyes watching her face and nodded. "Yes. That's most likely it."
"Oh," Nami said softly. Her face grew sad. "That's —"
"We've all got traits we've got to live with, desirable or no." The leering twin dragons guarding the gates of the Ionian Quarters came into view, along with the lush, gnarled branches of bonsai trees. The lotus-shaped fountains misted the air, scented with exotic spices.
This should be relaxing, Soraka thought, relieved. The meditative atmosphere would surely help clear her head.
She was wrong — she and Nami came to a halt in the doorway.
The voice floated towards them. "Not so strong now, are you?" CRACK.
The healers exchanged glances.
Oh, dear. Soraka sighed through her nose and took Nami's hand. Best to get it over with.
It was as bad as expected. In a meditation chamber to the right of the living room, Riven was bent over a luscious red-velvet recliner, wearing only her new brown pumps. The heels on them pushed the muscles of her butt out — the healers could see them tighten and relax in anticipation of Syndra's next strike.
Her wrists and ankles were lashed roughly together by someone who didn't have Noxus' elegant knowledge of bondage. The knots were rough, but still tightly chafed against Riven's skin.
And they were effective. She struggled as Syndra brought the broad brown paddle down on her taut backside, writhing even harder as the strokes increased in frequency. The sound of the birch on skin was hard and flat. Riven's ass jiggled each time.
Syndra blew white hair out of her face and squeezed Riven's ass with both hands, muttering something about power. Riven's cheeks were turning a warm, cherry red that flushed her from the top of her curves to her lower thighs.
Soraka and Nami watched as Syndra's hand pulled at something hot-pink and wet between Riven's legs. It took Soraka a moment to realize it was a vibrator, something she wasn't terribly familiar with. She thought it was a big one, though.
The healer glanced at Nami, who had her mouth covered with both petite hands. All of her fins were quivering, her blue-green tail swishing back and forth. She was horrified and fascinated.
Not the way I wanted her introduced to human sexual contact. Soraka loudly cleared her throat and was promptly ignored. Syndra's fingertips were busy flicking at Riven's engorged clit, squeezing her inner lips tighter around the length of the vibrator. Riven's stomach contracted in waves. She was sweating.
Then Syndra grabbed her hair and pulled it hard. "I'll show you broken." She ripped the vibrator out and slid her fingers into its place, sliding them in and out again and again. There was a wet noise — Riven was dripping. She whimpered as an orgasm rocked her body, the pleasure so strong it made Nami cringe.
"Tsk." Soraka pulled Nami away.
The mermaid was still gaping. "SorakaIdon'tthinkIcando —"
"It's not all like that," Soraka said automatically, then snapped her mouth shut. She didn't know from personal experience, did she?
She had only Sona's lovely memories, shared late one night while they blushed and giggled like schoolgirls instead of healers, of her hundreds of times with Saint Garamond. The memories were so vivid it felt like Soraka had been with him — his sandy blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, his muscles that were firm but not hard, his strong jaw and shoulders. The perfect Demacian Knight before he became the perfect Demacian Saint.
He was always gentle. Even when his breath quickened and his cock — slightly too thick for Sona, but she enjoyed it — slid in and out between her damp thighs. He always cupped her chin or kissed her cheeks, or brought her to orgasm with his light touch. Sometimes he would pull away and simply admire Sona's body as she trembled. He would stroke her hair, trace it down to her nipples, and pinch them. But never too hard.
Now, there was a man none of the Supports would have problems being intimate with. Then again, it was doubtful a Demacian Saint would cause thousands of people around him to fornicate. It was a pity he was dead to the hand of an unstable 15-year-old.
Soraka shook her head, trying not to think of Caelyn and the grief his memory bode. It never stopped. He'd killed almost half a million people.
Press on. She rapped smartly on Yi and Karma's door. Behind them, Riven's voice rose in waves of orgasmic ecstasy. Nami was taking deep breaths.
"Soraka —"
"It doesn't have to be like that. That's why we're sending Janna with Ezreal, remember?"
Nami didn't have time to reply. Karma opened the door, wearing a loosely belted bathrobe, her hair in damp wraps. Her eyes widened in surprise. She waved them inside.
Yi was sitting in a meditative pose, but it was clear from the water on his neck that they'd just come from a bath together.
Not that there's anything wrong with that, Soraka thought, reminding herself that she had sanctioned Karma and Yi's union. She took a seat in a recliner with Ionian dragons for arms and began to explain the situation. She tried to ignore Nami's steadily blushing fins — the arousal in the air was getting to her, too.
Then it happened — Nami's fear. Master Yi listened, jaw clenching tighter and tighter, until he shouted "Absolutely not!"
Soraka was stunned. "But —"
"Not unless she is the final option." He put a protective arm around Karma's shoulders and nodded towards them. "And I see two other options before her. Trying to get my wife to soothe a Noxian, after the strikes on her home town — fah!" He shoved both of them out of their room and slammed the door. Behind him, Karma's mouth was open in a soft o of shock.
Nami shook. Her deeply-colored eyes swam with sudden tears. "But —"
"Come on." Soraka sighed. "We've got to be like Kha'Zix and adapt."
"I don't want to be a bug!"
Soraka dragged her past Riven and Syndra again. Riven had sex toys jammed deep into both of her holes and was caterwauling. Soraka covered Nami's questing eyes, shaking her head.
A mess, Soraka thought. A damned mess.
Ryland dreamt he was in a forest. He opened his eyes to what had to be a nature spirit patting his head. The boy was golden-haired, bare-chested and bare-footed, thinner than him, petite and small, in faded jeans. He leaned near Ryland, green eyes bright and curious.
"Whtchcdere?"
Ryland blinked. He was transfixed by the blush playing along the boy's cheeks — it reminded him of the apple blossom yarrow that grew along the sunny streets of Demacia. The soft pink of his lips was marred only by a tiny, dark freckle.
Frowning slightly, the boy tried again. "Dyntstanme?"
Ryland shook his head. "I have no idea what you're saying. None."
The boy grumbled and dropped in the dirt beside him, muttering "Skylnstanmaccent." He puffed a strand of hair from his face. Ryland watched the leaves rustle in a balmy springtide wind, shadows rippling across their bodies. He himself was shirtless, but his usual embarrassment slowly faded into distraction.
He can't be human, Ryland thought. He's too beautiful. He tried to stop himself, but his hand moved of its own accord to the boy's ribs. His fingers traced them. The skin was smooth and soft. He snuggled closer to Ryland and murmured something else incomprehensible.
"Do you have a name?"
The boy gazed up at Ryland, and the loveliness of his green eyes made Ryland's heart stutter to a stop.
Thud - th —
He couldn't breathe, but — it was pleasant.
"Aven." The boy rolled his eyes. "'S'ifyin't'kentat."
Holy shit. Are those even words? Ryland hesitated, then decided it didn't matter. He wrapped his long, bony hands around the boy's thin waist and pulled him nearer, chest to chest. Their skin was warm from the sun.
He kissed him and was deeply pleased when the boy didn't pull away. Instead, Aven relaxed into him, pressed himself to Ryland's bony chest without a pause. His hands kneaded Ryland's skin. It was incredibly calming.
Aven's kisses were slow, sweet, soothing. He reminded Ryland of naps taken in slants of sunshine, fireflies aglow along the banks of a river, a hazy mid-summertide evening.
And light.
Ryland accidentally grabbed his delicate wrists too roughly — so hard he felt the bones creak — and flinched away from him. "I — Sorry. I can usually control myself." He blushed so hard it hurt.
Aven blinked and shook his head. "Y — oh, why 'm I even tryin' t'talk? You're fine, is what I meant t'say."
The kiss translated him. But that accent. The Pilt. Gods, the rumors about people not understanding them at all are true. He took a deep breath. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Skylan. Gods above. Dream world turns y'into a skinny prude and me into a Pilt hermit."
Skylan? Ryland shook his head and kissed him again. Close enough.
He took his wrists and rubbed them gently, then brushed his lips across the delicate skin of his neck. Aven was scented of pine and snow — a recent pilgrim from the Freljord. Ryland felt him shiver, heard a soft purr start in his chest, and deepened his kisses. His mouth moved from Aven's neck to his thin, feather-light breastbone. Aven's breath quickened, as did his pulse.
Being on top is great, part of Ryland thought. I get to decide whether or not anyone's in pain.
He kissed Aven's lips deeply one more time and was suddenly overwhelmed with lust as cold and black as a winter's eve. The voice seemed to come from somewhere else. The space between the stars, maybe.
Bite him.
What? No. Ryland nuzzled his hair and fought the urge. I'm not Katarina.
Make him bleed.
Nope. Ryland looked at his nature-perfect face. Aven's eyes were closed in contentment.
Ryland was torn. He began to shake.
Aven cracked an eye open and smiled slightly. "Y'be Noxian. I'm used t'you by now."
"I —" don't know you, Ryland almost said, but that was a lie. This was supposed to have happened, in a different story, perhaps, that had grown too long.
"Holding back only makes it worse for you." Aven pressed his forehead to Ryland's. "Shouldn't resist. It be in y'blood."
Ryland's tongue lingered on Aven's pulsepoint. He could feel the mild arrhythmia — a heritable trait.
Then he let his teeth sink lightly into the flesh there. Aven's accompanying sigh of pleasure tore at Ryland's healer restraint. He quivered.
And he bit Aven harder and covered the boy's mouth with his hand when his moans became too loud. The rest of their bodies were entwined — Ryland found himself squeezing the nape of Aven's neck, holding him captive before him as he ravished his mouth with his tongue.
I'm broken, Ryland thought in despair. This story's broken. They're all broken if this is happening. He paused and was embarrassed that he was shaking and hard.
Splintered a bit, Aven thought to him. He smiled shyly up at Ryland. But They're still a-weavin'. Whether we like it or no. Y'can't give up yet. He nipped him. Feeling sick, Ryland pressed his fingertip to the bead of blood on Aven's collarbone. He was quivering too.
But —
I love thee, moon son. Aven grinned.
"I love you, too," Ryland murmured.
"Wow, that's fucking gay."
Ryland opened his eyes — for real this time — to Ezreal. In fresh green-black plaid sleep pants and mussed hair. The Explorer pounced on him. He had that wild, hyper look in his eyes that Ryland both dreaded and enjoyed. "Ew. You're hard."
"Do Pilts not get morningwood? Is that not a thing?"
"You're just gay. It's alright." Ezreal rolled onto his back and snuggled into Ryland's collarbone. His thigh was infuriatingly close to Ryland's dick. "No — fuck. I'm kidding. I forgot not to joke about that stuff."
Ryland took two deep breaths. His jaw didn't unclench."Ez? Why are you on top of me?"
"Dunno. It's a good thing you're totally straight, though. I don't wanna get raped." Ezreal grinned and Ryland almost punched him. "Shhh. Listen."
"But what do I do?" Nami squeaked outside Ryland's bedroom door. "I don't even know the basics!"
"We'll let Sona go first. She has the most — experience." Soraka coughed the last word. "Then Karma, then you. You may not even be necessary." She paused, then said heavily, "I presume you understand your duties, Janna?"
"Oh, sweetheart, do I." Janna's voice was breathy with pleasure. "I'm about to get to know them better."
"The important thing is not to scare them. Ezreal shouldn't be a problem —"
"What?" Ezreal whispered, wide-eyed. Ryland hushed him.
"But Katarina's approach to intimacy leaves our knowledge of Ryland — lacking." Soraka lowered her voice. "It has to happen today. Understand?"
There was a chorus of yes's, some hesitant, others less so, then murmurs as they dispersed.
"What in fuck?" Ryland murmured.
"Healers aren't supposed to swear." Ezreal nudged him.
"Yeah, and they're not supposed to talk about people like that, either."
"But what are they talking about?"
Ryland paused, reliving the taste of the nature spirit boy's tender throat. He shook his head to clear it. "Dunno. We should get ready. For whatever it is."
Sona rubbed her temples. I don't know how I feel about Noxians. Not after Saint Garamond's death. He's healer Ryland first and foremost, though, isn't he?
As she walked to her room, she thought back on recent meditations.
The mental connection they all shared had made it slightly awkward after he and Kat started having sex. Sona and the Supports were in Circular Prayer – the most serious kind, where they tied their consciousness to Soraka as she implored the gods to bless them. But the peaceful channels were continually flooded with images from the four times Ryland and Kat had slept together.
They all saw Kat kissing him desperately, her lips roving over his. When he tried to pull away, she pulled him back, biting him, letting her tongue brush against his lower lip. She kissed him until he begged for her to stop. Then she sat, tracing the swollen, painful curve of his mouth with satisfaction.
They saw her rip his shirt off and hold him beneath her by his wrists. He struggled against her, but finally submitted. Her hips grinded against his until he moaned. She had laughed at him, then, a curtain of brilliant red hair enclosing their two faces. When the tension grew too great for Kat to stand, she pressed her breast against his open mouth.
"I'm gonna ride you 'til you beg for mercy," they heard her growl during Soraka's prayer. The healer stumbled over a couple words. Taric tugged at the collar of his shirt with a cough, blushing furiously. Sona looked over to see Karma's hands clenched atop of her quivering thighs. Janna was openly grinning. If meditation was always like this, I'd come more often, Janna thought, gazing at Ryland. In both senses of the word.
Sona had sneaked a glance at him then – solely for informational purposes, she told herself. His head was bowed demurely. When he saw the other Supports looking at him, he flushed. But he couldn't stop the flow of memories.
Especially not the one where Kat tied his wrists to the posters of her bed. He couldn't move. Her lips started at the base of his throat and slowly moved downward, over his bare chest to his trembling lower belly. Her emerald eyes were glittering with pure Noxian lust.
As her lips grazed the head of his swollen dick, he gasped, trying to free himself from the scarves. The sensation was too intense. Kat's smile grew.
He looked at her over his heaving chest. "Kat – I – "
"Shut up." She unzipped his pants with her teeth and rubbed his head against her lips, letting it play across her mouth like lipstick.
And Sona (and Janna, Karma, Taric and Soraka) saw the helpless flush of his cheeks, and heard his little sighs of pleasure deepen into moans. Sona reflected that he had the most adorable sex face she'd ever seen, besides Garamond's – lips pressed together, dark hair spilling across his forehead. He bit his bottom lip when Katarina looked up at him to gauge his reaction. He was obviously embarrassed.
And Kat was so obviously enjoying tormenting him, teasing him to the point of climax, then forcing him back down. When she couldn't stand it any longer, she got on top of him and abruptly shoved his dick all the way inside of her, her fingers curled into his dark black hair. Ryland panted.
Soraka had finished reading the prayer a while ago, but no one had noticed. She coughed loudly as Katarina whispered, "Beg for it, you slut." Sona was a touch disappointed that the memory wasn't allowed to finish – for non-lust related reasons, of course. She and the other Supports should be aware if Katarina was abusing Ryland.
Soraka dismissed them and looked curiously at her student. Sona strained to hear her as she walked back towards her Quarters.
"I take if you're enjoying your relationship with Katarina?" Soraka asked softly.
"Um…yes."
Sona reflected that was one meditation no one would forget.
As she headed for her bed, she relished the feel of the warm, summertide grass beneath her bare feet. A robin was chirping cheerfully above her, and she paused to listen to it, her sensitive ears hearing each tiny alteration in pitch and tone.
Her muscles were stretched and tender from the physical meditation earlier in the morning. She understood the intention of the meditations, but couldn't quite bring herself to enjoy them. They made her blood flow too freely, in her opinion.
The bikini she'd worn for the sun worship seemed a bit too tight, but in a pleasurable way. She felt the cloth and the sweat chafing at her nipples and her lower parts, nipping at her skin. She realized with a rising blush that Ryland's origins suddenly didn't matter. Ryland was, in fact, desirable, in a purely carnal sense.
Lust weakens your healing powers, Sona, she chided herself. It is possible to undertake this without being consumed yourself. And he's little more than a child.
But between the hot, hazy spring sun and Ryland's memories she realized, for the moment, that she didn't care. Well, almost. She still felt a touch of guilt as she shut the door to her room and padded towards her washroom.
Every Support had an inner sanctum, and this was hers. Her large, blue-green clawfoot tub sat directly under a skylight, so the sky could pour its blessings onto her naked body. It was opposite a tall, stately mirror, framed with wrought iron. Pictures of instruments over the ages covered the forest-green walls.
She felt the urge building inside of her and resigned herself to it with a sigh.
I don't do this terribly often. I'd better make it count. Besides, it might be good practice for — it.
She unhooked her white top and tossed it aside. Her breasts bounced, and she felt tension ease out of her body as they were released from their bindings. Sometimes it was difficult to restrain them.
She peeled the lower half of the bikini off, revealing her smooth lips and round bottom. She knew Supports weren't supposed to be ashamed of their bodies, but the largeness of her butt made it difficult to perform the same meditations as Karma and Janna. They didn't understand why she began to sweat lightly after three or four curl-ups, not realizing that her boobs pressed the air out of her lungs with each contortion.
Bending over, she started the water in the tub. The rushing sound soothed her. As she prepared the various bath salts and herbs, she heard the voice of one of her three lovers pipe up in her mind.
Garamond. He was a fierce warrior with a tender touch. In the months they'd spent together, he spent many hours lying atop her bed, tracing the curves of her body again and again. The orgasms he'd given her had surprised her, as they seemed to arise from being so relaxed beneath his hand.
One time, after her body was finished cresting with pleasure, he quietly said, The key to pleasing yourself is doing whatever your body wants, even if it seems strange at first. His soft smile curled into his blonde goatee.
Well, I suppose he was right, Sona thought. I'll try it.
She stood in front of her mirror curiously, examining her body from head to toe. She wasn't sure she saw what most men did. She was curvier than most women, she thought, pushing her hair away from the swells of her breasts. And though the women envied her, her breasts made her chest and back ache.
And I ache for a different reason, too.
She pressed her thumb to her bottom lip, as Kat had done with Ryland, then moistened it with the tiny tip of her tongue. She watched her reflection draw a slow circle around the rosy nipple of her right breast. Her fingertip traced the outer edge, where the pink met white.
Somehow, it only made her ache more. Her breath came faster as she tightened the circle, then let her thumb press to its very peak. Her pink lips parted a bit. It felt good, but somehow…not satisfying.
Her mind flashed to Ryland's large hands. They were musician's hands – wide and slim-fingered, able to reach the broadest chord of a mandolin or coax the daintiest sound from the strings of an etwahl.
Her body abruptly flushed with desire. She watched it bloom in the space between her collarbone and breast. It was a faint, dawn-colored hue at first, then deepened to a scarlet blush of lust and shame. She shouldn't be thinking of a fellow healer like this, even with her mission. She shouldn't, but —
He was so kind. Dark and handsome. His fear and loneliness made him so vulnerable, so eager to be touched. Even the slightest brush of skin on skin was enough to make him smile.
She came out of her trance of arousal and realized she was standing in front of her mirror, lips open in a soft 'O,' her nipples as hard as they ever had been. She blushed even harder as she realized the space between her thighs was wet.
His warm hands to grasp her and pull her against him, covering her forehead and cheeks with warm kisses. His fingers tugging at her nipples, cupping the full weight of her breasts. Massaging them, nuzzling them. It didn't have to hurt.
She could show him the light side of love. What Garamond had showed her.
She was biting her lip. Behind her, the first drops of water were spilling to the ground with high, musical notes. She rushed towards the brass faucet and shut it off, then dumped some Kaladownian mint extract into the bath water. She hoped the scent would calm her down.
She lowered her body into the water with a sigh and tried to relax. But she couldn't. Her body was at unease.
Oh, gods. Is this how the Noxians feel all the time?
A part of her whispered, Ryland's half-Noxian.
She pressed her palms to her cheeks, trying to stop the blush.
After a few hesitant moments, she let her legs dangle over the edge of the tub, and watched the minty bubbles cling playfully to her hips and the tops of her breasts. Her almond-colored hair swirled around her in the water, waving as the salty sweat faded away, leaving her silken skin rosy pink and clean.
And still that feeling. Do what your body wants, the knight had whispered. He'd been beautiful in his own way. Both of them were. Light and dark.
She took the small, light-blue sponge lying to her right into her hands and kneaded it, then spread her legs and pressed it against her clit. She moved it in a circle, spilling some of the water out of the tub. The friction built inside of her as she found a pace and pattern her body liked, her insides trembling.
She leaned back and let the sun fall on her face and neck again, then dropped the sponge. Her fingers fumbled for her sweet spot, but the pleasurable sensation was gone, replaced by strange tingles when her fingertips brushed against her swollen lips. She felt a moment of frustration and despair.
I was never good at it, she thought distantly, as the water caressed her thighs. I bet it comes naturally to Kat.
She flinched when she heard a knock on the door.
Sona?
As if she'd summoned him – without wearing purple robes, or anything at all, really – Ryland was at her door. She sat bolt upright, her hands covering her breasts. More mint-scented water fell to the floor.
I wasn't — I knew it was today, but so soon?
She felt a moment of hesitation, born in part of her fondness for him. Besides his beauty, Ryland was very sensitive to her muteness. He made sure to commune with her through his mind or music, never using his voice around her unless she asked him to. His sweetness made her thighs ache.
But should I? Is it wrong when I feel like this? Shouldn't I rid myself of lust? But she couldn't resist. I'm still very mortal, and very, very human.
Come in.
He did so, stepping carefully around her priceless instruments. She couldn't play the Shurimanan Cello, but had been glad that she bought it when Ryland sat down and brought the strings to life.
He paused. Where are you?
In here. Her thighs clenched together in the tub, the hot water mixing with her own sweet fluid. It was actually happening. She glanced up through the sunlight and sent a brief prayer of thanks to the celestial gods.
Soraka sent these books over, and I –
The knob on the door turned, and Ryland stumbled in, carrying a stack of books up to his collarbone. When he saw her resting naked in the tub, surveying him with a small smile, he dropped them.
"Oh. Sona. I – " he began verbally, then switched to his mental voice. Sona let a soft aura of calming reach out to him. She didn't want him to bolt. I can leave now.
I would prefer if you didn't, she sent back, twirling her hair around her fingers. She enjoyed looking at him. She searched for the correct tone to use, and finally settled on something between a chiding teacher and a schoolgirl. You've definitely garnered some attention lately. Everyone seems to be - a bit freer than usual.
Oh. That. I'm terribly sorry. He flushed. I didn't mean to disturb the order around here. I – am I going to get kicked out? His eyes wandered to her breasts and he covered his eyes with his hand. She saw his Adam's apple shift as he swallowed hard.
No, Ryland. I just thought I'd inform you of the strengthening of our mortal desires – including my own.
For me?
Yes, she whispered. Would you – Do you find me desirable at all?
Well, you're very beautiful. I've always thought that. He shifted his feet. Sona smiled as she saw an erection beginning to press lightly against the front of his pants. Talented, too. And kind.
You may uncover your eyes, she said with a laugh. I have no shame.
I noticed. He looked at her, admiring her lines the way he might admire the craftsmanship of a fine instrument. A curvaceous darkwood viola, perhaps. Her shape was the same as the melodious instrument – a narrow throat connected to widening shoulders, flaring out to hips, then coming to a close with a round bottom.
She saw his eyes linger on her breasts and felt another warm pulse of desire. It flowed from her pores, it seemed, rich and gold. It was reflected in him. He echoed the lust back to her in a slightly different way, a mysterious melody that seemed to hang in the spring air between them.
She didn't feel ashamed anymore. The lingering traces of guilt were gone, replaced by his strong, calm presence. Will I interfere with Kat at all?
No. She's been encouraging me to seek out other women since I met her. Though I doubt she had you in mind. He came to her side and brushed her cheek. His fingers slid lightly around the pink shell of her ear, then cupped the nape of her neck. He rested his other hand between her legs, searching patiently for the center of her desire.
Her body twitched as his fingers ran across it. Her thighs clenched around his hand as a momentary flush of shame seized her once more. He kissed her forehead and worked her legs apart. He was gentle but insistent, murmuring in her ear to allay her fear.
She felt her body break into gooseflesh as he massaged her outer lips, then rub against the opening of her vagina. She sighed in pleasure. There, at last, was the right feeling.
His rubbing took on a circular pattern. Then he pinched lightly at the point where her arousal seemed concentrated.
Her back arched as her cheeks and breasts flushed again. His hand slipped from her neck to the middle of her back, pressing against her to steady her. He looked at her with a faint smile, and watched as Sona's eyes slipped closed, and her mouth parted.
Then he looked away as her body quivered. His hand rested at the apex of her orgasm – her body moved around it. When she opened her eyes and saw his shyness, she said, You can look at me, Ryland. I give you permission.
She put her arms around his neck, ignoring the water pattering onto his shirt. Her voice in his mind was musical, insistent, as light as the notes of her etwahl. She cupped his chin and turned him towards her.
She felt a deeper desire course through her as she watched his eyes darken and felt his breath become slower as he gazed upon her.
The Demacian knight had never looked at her like that.
Her body was so different from Kat's. Whereas the assassin's breasts were small and taut, Sona's crested the water, luscious, white, perfect globes that reminded Ryland of the moon. There was little difference, save for their inviting, pink peaks.
Her buttocks were likewise round, and her thighs welcomingly thick. Ryland suddenly felt lightheaded – customary, when Kat was teasing him.
Her eyes were similarly darkened, her glossy pupils expanding to touch the edge of her irises. The expression was startling on her usually calm and placid face.
Ryland shrugged out of his shirt and pants with scarcely a second thought. It was in his blood, after all.
Kat had scolded him yesterday for his idea of monogamy. The king he was named after was infamous for his sexual escapades – though Ryland doubted that his gentle conquering of this soft-skinned musician really qualified.
Being with Sona just felt right, on a level he couldn't explain.
He stood before her naked. He caught a glimpse of himself in her mirror and winced. He didn't see what Kat – and apparently Sona – did.
But Sona rubbed herself as she studied him. His lean lines and muscles were a sweet counterpoint to her full-bodiedness. She rose from the tub and pressed her dripping body against his. She found his mouth with hers and kissed him.
They weren't Kat's urgent, fiery ones, but loving ones instead. Kisses that let Ryland savor the sweetness of her lips. Someone else gentle. He leaned into her, nuzzling her. His only moment of pause was realizing that he wanted affection and not just sex. Um. I'm — sorry, but —
She felt his mind and smiled warmly, stroking his hair and the back of his neck. His night-black tresses should have alarmed her. Noxian — the blood-drinkers, murderers.
But his hair was too smooth and soft, his body fragile. His eyes closed in simple pleasure as she cuddled against him.
Then he held her at arm's length and eyed her.
Alright. I'm — sorry for that.
Don't be sorry.
He felt what she wanted and placed his hands over her buttocks, kneading them. Even with his huge hands, her curves were difficult to tame. His kiss grew more urgent as he cupped her bottom again and again. His erection throbbed against her lower belly.
She enjoyed the feeling of his desire, which played against her mind like a song from the enigmatic southern sea, rising from his recently-healed mind like fog at dawn.
She moved his hands to her breasts. Beads of water were still rolling off of them.
She shivered as Ryland licked one of these away, then another. Soon, the warmth of his tongue erased any chill she felt from standing in the open air as it caressed one nipple, then the other.
She would have moaned then, as Kat did. But she couldn't. She settled for stroking his jaw until her nipples were bright pink and swollen from his kisses.
She tugged on his hair. Come to bed with me, Ryland.
As you wish.
He followed her silent steps with his own, watching her buttocks bounce in front of him. He was hopelessly hard.
And curious about what was going to happen. With Kat, it was always predictable: violent, passionate, painful, explosive. But Sona's eyes and desires were mysterious.
He lay beside her. The blanket was a dark forest green that complimented her smooth skin. The spring sun had reached its height, and the light slanting in from the side window was a peaceful gold. Shadows rolled over Sona's snowy body as clouds brushed against the sun.
She placed her head on his collarbone. Her body was still aching from the orgasm earlier, and the meditations.
He held her then, letting her nuzzle his chest. He almost flinched when he felt her own mouth returning the favor, nipping at his chest playfully.
He found himself caressing her hair. He wanted to push her mouth on to his dick, but resisted – it was the Noxian side of him talking.
Sona caught the thought anyways, and cocked her head. Someone once told me to do whatever your body wanted.
I would never put my desire before others. He saw her eyes widen and cursed himself for sounding so serious. Besides, that'd be rather rude, wouldn't it?
Or perhaps enjoyable. She took him into her mouth and let her dainty tongue wrap around his head. Ryland's pulse quickened. His fingers went deeper into her dark auburn tresses, but he was careful not to pull them.
Not after hurting Aven's wrists, he thought. No more hurting people.
It became increasingly difficult as Sona lowered her mouth, easing him into her throat. He began to pant as he edged even deeper. Her mouth and tongue were warm and wet, and her throat moved around him, accommodating his swelling erection.
She closed her lips and moved back up. Her lips slid across his entire shaft once, twice. The rhythm became inexorable. He tried to keep quiet, for Sona's sake. Though their union was surrounded by springtide silence – that of cicadas whirring and crickets chirping – their minds had melded into one sweet melody that was almost as pleasurable as Sona sucking his dick.
I — I can't, Ryland realized, horrified. He fought it, but his hand settled onto the back of Sona's neck and squeezed it hard, sending a dull ache through her shoulders. She looked up at him in alarm as he shoved himself all the way into her. He seemed to throb to the beat of her heart.
He wanted to hold her there, to use her like a toy, but he struggled against it. He eventually won. She pulled away from him, gasping.
"I don't — I'm sorry. Oh, gods, I'm sorry." He covered his face and blushed with shame.
Can't let him slip away, Sona thought dazedly. Ryland, it's fine. Truly. Relax.
"But —" He remembered she was mute. But —
She resumed her rhythm, but added squeezing to it. Eventually the sensation became so intense that Ryland couldn't help gasping. He tensed up and waited for Kat to tease him about it, then realized that Sona's enormous breasts were resting against the tops of his thighs.
The dark again.
He pushed her down and climbed on top of her, lips resting against her pulse point. He was panting. He felt her seize up beneath him and rushed to soothe her. His hands rubbed her stomach until she was calm again.
Gracious, she thought. Is this what the Noxians do?
He smiled slightly and kissed the tip of her nose. His chest felt cold. "Close."
Her soft smile back set his mind at ease. He guided his dick inside of her, shuddering when he touched her warmth. She was almost dripping. The Maven of the Strings enjoyed sucking him as much as Katarina did.
For some reason, this idea stuck with Ryland, teasing him. He pushed deeper, feeling Sona shift beneath him. She bore the pressure, then gasped as it gave way to pleasure.
You're so…thick.
He didn't respond, but grabbed her bottom and dragged her upward, his length reaching all the way in. Her back arched again. She gasped as he filled her body completely. She was brimming.
And she was deeply startled when Ryland bit her neck.
He felt her muscles tighten around him. His body and mind were overwhelming hers, enveloping her will – her breasts were pushed against his face, jiggling with each thrust. His quiet moans in Sona's ear made her skin tingle.
He felt her release. The air rushed past her lips tiny, sweet gasps. He came then, too, shuddering as the orgasm rocked his body. He rested against her chest, panting, unable to move. The force of his climax had deadened the nerves in his body.
Ryland. She hugged him. It made his tired nerve-endings wince, but he enjoyed it. It's okay.
It's not alright. He closed his eyes with a groan. Healers aren't supposed to —
There may be —
No. He cuddled against her. Even through his blanket of shame, he sought affection. I'll make it right. I'll fix it.