BLOODWELL
Aatrox - a legendary warrior who wields his massive blade with grace and poise. Such a poise as this that other summoners would soon fear - others would come to love, explicitly.
Ahri always had a certain charm for Aatrox. His unwavering brutalisms were noteworthy, rustic, and tradtionally-minded. The way he swung his blade vicariously - oh how she wished it were her that made his blood boil! The lips of her vagina quivered; her mind raced in a dark flight as her thoughts rushed without control. Suddenly, a great schism shook the ground before her as her opponent, Malzahar, cast wildly in an attempt to kill her - but there he was! Ahri's heart fluttered as Aatrox dove with his full weight in desperation to save her, Malzahar's neck and skull twisted in bloody communion as Aatrox glanced toward her narrowly, thanking what was divine he had appeared in time.
And what a time it was.
With every blood thirst comes a blood price.
Ahri cast a charm while Aatrox's attention was diverted from her. Haggardly, he stood, almost unsure of what his next action he should partake in. Hazed, his mind haphazardly hiked him headstrong into a heap of heated hornily-clad hormones. Spirals formed in his eyes as his sensory receptors imbibed what was before him. Ahri forced his hand upon her soft naked breasts as her gentle, deceptive words left lust in their wake. Willing her fox fires forth, Ahri stripped him of his chastity keeping the two segregated from the passion she felt. Was this wrong? It mattered not to Ahri; the question faded into the great abyss as her passion wrapped his mind further into her tight knit.
If you stare into the abyss, however, the abyss stares back. "This battle will be my masterpiece," Aatrox mutters as unequivocal desire courses through every heart beat that pumps in his veins. Ahri's clothing were torn asunder by sheer magical will. Teeth nibbled at her body forlorn of clothing. Hair pulled back, he attached himself to every fiber of her existence until she melted in his warm pleasuring. At this point, she knew there was no retreat. There never was with Aatrox, and she loved that about him.
Play time was over, however. Ahri lightly moved her fingers down his chest to fondle that which was hers. His eyes beamed crimson glory as she lightly caressed his pulsating tip. With every beat of his heart, Ahri surprisingly found his penis to grow in size slightly. As she caressed further, it grew as if there were no limit in thickness or length. 'Is this the source of Aatrox's power?' she mused. She stuffed her mouth with his throbbing cock and he grew ever more. Her tails waved playfully as she gazed into Aatrox's countenance of pleasure. Mechanically, she pleased him with a light touch of her tongue to the base of his tip and moved to engulfing the entire head. The embodiment of his being massaged into ecstasy as she continued her devilish assault.
Aatrox couldn't resist himself. Ahri had taken utter control. Pinkish haze cast into his soul as he forced Ahri to the ground. At this point, however, Aatrox had become huge. Ahri ogled equally lustfully and wearily as he forced his blade into her tight vagina. "Too much.." she breathed lightly as his face bore no resemblance of listening. Aatrox inserted further as she flexed tightly upon the head, then the shaft, feeling his every rib, nook, and cranny as fervorously as she saw fit. Fully inserted, Aatrox grew ever larger - Ahri moaned passionately. Fearful of fellow champions hearing her, she motioned for him to stop his thrusting - he thrust harder. She saw in his eyes that he was not under her spell any longer, and a flower of realization turned to full bloom: he was never under her spell.
The two had switched positions, and Ahri relentlessly screamed as Aatrox's thighs and ballsack slammed against her back thighs. Her orgasms forced him stronger and swifter, as his strength and speed increased with every strike. Sweet nothings of pleasure called out from Ahri's lethargic expression. She existed as nothing - formless, without shape; Ahri was nothing but pleasure incarnate. With every powerful thrust he grew stronger and swifter and larger until he finally ripped his penis from her orifice.
With every blood thirst comes a blood price.
Ahri lay motionless, shell-shocked. The fibers of her life force froze. She stared arbitrarily toward the dirt beneath her. Blood stained the base of her many tails; It trickled down her legs coldly. A single tear grew at the base of her eye. She wanted to cry; she wanted to weep, but she couldn't find the strength to. She couldn't measure an ounce of anything except swirling demise, depression, despair. A shadow blocked the sun above. She could make out the silhouette of an axe. The man swung at her stomach, cleaving it wide open, causing her mouth to spit hot blood into the open air as he brought his heavy axe to the base of her neck.