Sup! This will be a collection of short one-shots I write whenever I have free time. They will feature the thunder duo (i love em ok) going at each other like animals in heat- includes solos and OCs.

As always, I hope you like it! I'm not shy of constructive criticism either :D

I do not own Fire Emblem, just my imagination.

Chapter Summary: A simple duel, that was all it had been, until his eyes and mind shamelessly wandered into uncharted regions.

Reinhardt can't get Ishtar off his mind, so he secludes himself to indulge.

Reinhardt hurriedly stepped into the washroom located in his quarters, shut the door behind him, and put his hands on the sink.

His eyes focused on the reflection in the mirror staring back at him. Slick with sweat and flushed red to the ears, pulse ricocheting rapidly in throat, obsidian hair disheveled and clothes in the same condition. He looked as if he'd run across Friege and back to the palace, but he had to tear away, could not face himself after what had happened.

He could not stop thinking about Ishtar.

There was nothing wrong to think of someone dear, but she was special. She was the woman he respected above all. The future queen of Northern Thracia and heir to Mjölnir. What would he do if she discovered the real reason he'd abandoned their spar midway?

That was all it had been, another pastime to hone their skills and unbreakable bond. Normally, they used whatever weapon of choice they wished, so today, Ishtar dabbled a bit with swordsmanship. It helped that she was eager to learn from him, and he to mentor her.

What he didn't expect was for her movements to be so... distracting; much less his eyes to roam inappropriately before he could stop himself. Whether she was aware or too engrossed with perfecting her lunges was beyond him, but the thunder goddess did notice his head was in more places than one. At one point when they'd stopped for respite, she asked Reinhardt if he was feeling well. He'd responded evenly and politely shrugged it off as the heat, but she was having none of it. She then called it a day and told him to bathe and rest.

Illicit thoughts were one thing, but yearning for them to be a reality...

His gaze wandered down to the significant bulge swelling the front of his trousers. In the uncharted recesses of his mind that he seldom traversed, they were sharing the baths, but she had fallen to her knees in front of him and was teasing it with her mouth, the heady musk emanating from him all that kept her from ripping his clothes down to his knees and welcoming him into her hot orifice...

Reinhardt groaned right then, held tight onto the opulent washbasin so hard his fingers felt like they would break. He couldn't help feeling disgusted with himself. His cock was just about salivating for freedom now. Stray beads of precum soaked through his trousers, forming a noticeable dark spot on the white fabric. He had to control himself. Had to ignore it. He backed away and prepared the water, stripping off his clothes.

Much to the mage knight's dismay, however, his mind cooked up other wicked plans. He couldn't stop imagining her slender fingers on his cravat, sliding it and the rest of his attire off... slowly running her hands against his bare torso. How would they feel? Would she dig her fingers into his shoulders or let him pin them above her head while he had his way with her?

And what of her lips that reminded him of rose petals? Were they just as soft, if not softer? How would they feel grazing on his skin, pressed to his own lips?

He shook his head brusquely. She was his liege, he couldn't think of her like this! He finished stripping and eased into the water. It was warm, made him hiss when it splashed onto the head of his cock. He glowered at the traitorous organ standing mockingly between his legs.

Must I humiliate myself further?

Of course, this was proving more difficult than expected.

He grabbed it aggressively and leaned against the tiled wall behind him, slowly worked his hand up and down the hard length. In no time the tension building inside him started to release. It would not be the most satisfying orgasm he had but it would get rid of this maddening thing keeping him from bathing peacefully... and perhaps, his Lady off his mind.

He thrust into his own hand, pumping his throbbing cock harder and faster, eyes closed so he didn't have to see how wrong this was. His eyebrows furrowed together, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip to stifle his voice. The water mixed with his precum was a temporary yet effective lube.

Suddenly she was behind him, her mounds squishing deliciously against his toned back, lips and tongue stroking his neck. They went to his ear next, whispering debauched phrases that would embarrass the whores at the brothel. His breath clipped, her dainty hands replacing his larger ones and retain a satisfying grip while jerking him, her slick body sensuously rubbing along his back, erect nipples poking into the skin.

"No... ah... if you keep doing that... D-Don't!"

Stop? Let go? Hard to tell when his body and mind were numb with pleasure. Her real name shamelessly fell on his tongue, slurred by his moans. Even though it was his imagination, perhaps the thrill of this very moment made it seem like she was with him now, her magical hands hurling him towards climax.

She gets on her knees, one hand sliding between her legs, fingers tuning her own, dripping flower while her free one maintains that firmness wrapped around him. She leans into his groin, gulping down a generous helping of salty masculinity as she swallows him in one bite. Deep, amethyst eyes with predatory glint lock him in place as her mouth worships every inch of his cock from scrotum to head, pretending her sweet, pink tongue was licking him there when he rubbed it with his thumb, her pleasure adding to his own.

It soon became too much for him to handle. His legs started to quiver and his cock twitched in his hand, his scrotum tightening to the point it would burst as he came with a resounding shout, continued to stroke himself while imagining his load flooding her mouth till it dripped down her chin. She drank every drop like a hungry kitten enjoying its milk, slurping off the stray residue from her fingers and wherever else they landed, licking her lips.

Left breathless, he slid down to the floor, put his fist against the wall. He felt shame. Defeat. He tried to escape his darkest desires only for them to seize his weakness and consume him. How could he bring himself to face his Lady after this?