Teemo

by High-priestofTheVerdantWilds

Teemo and Tristana have known each other for a long time. Their bond as soldiers has brought the silent, private Teemo closer to her than anything else. but the day Tristana finally showed her love for him with her heart and body, he became afraid, and fled. After years of separation, guilt, and insecurity, Teemo realized his mistake and aimed to return to her.

The average day

Teemo the assassin. Teemo the cold-blooded. Teemo the tropic shadow. Teemo the legendary yordle soldier is, sucking cock. The long-hooded erection of a blue demoness hung out before Teemo's eyes. The demoness, at his request, unleashed the magic wand before him, and he gazed at it hungrily. Teemo has always been interested in the potential of the penis, but only recently did he come to acquire belief in it. While he rotates his tongue around the salty, bitter, pungent flavor within the demoness' foreskin, let's look at the recent events in Teemo's life that led him here. Teemo, the tiny assassin was known to routinely visit the Kumungu jungle to maintain his skills. He's a beast, a being who became one with nature, and the things he saw and felt have never left him since the day he first visited the jungle. One such day he returned, and he tied various fibers together around strong branches to make a simple shelter. There were various little lodgings like tents he left dotted around the geography, building them anew every time he came. If he did not make a trap for catching mammals, he ate insects he found, flayed snakes, careful to remove the venom sack, as he was accustomed to what creatures were venomous, and it was quite common there were. The primary purpose of visiting was to replenish the poison he made use of, coming from a particular herb. It was not rare, but few dared to venture out into the jungle out of worry for their safety. Those who sought the potent poison either traded with the natives or were taught by them to navigate the place with relative safety.

Teemo was used to the place, and he felt safe in it because his head was filled with all manner of information that rendered the sundry threats of the green hell a peaceful locale, albeit incredibly humid and sticky. So he walked on through the green world that somehow created such verdancy and abundance of color within few hues. Teemo wasn't an artist, but he found a beauty tranquil and all too dangerous and would have it no other way than to find a skillful manner to bathe in this greenery without succumbing to its sweltering heat. If one asked him to paint the jungle, he would opt instead to show you directly what its like to experience it. An arrow loosed at a perfect angle based on nothing but his intuition. A trap that snares a meal because of a reliable placement learned from seasons of trial and error, and even a sonorous and beauteous melody played on a hand-crafted flute made during idle relaxation. This was how he carried on. A near ultimate pleasure was derived from the satisfaction of life brought by his own hands. There was but one thing sweeter the taste of honey from the giant Kumungu wasps Teemo regularly sweetened his milk with; and that was death. Teemo was an assassin after all, and he accessed the intoxicating high of combat, teetering on the precipitous cliffs of mortality in the shadows of warfare. These opportunities were rare, as the murder of a fellow person was permissible only during warfare. Teemo was not keen on finding people to kill in times of peace, which is why he kept himself busy securing the lives of animals he ate, so that the natural conclusion to life maintained the cycle where the jungle's perilous lives enriched his own, as one day his own end might enrich the life of some scavenging wild dogs or vultures.

One day, while Teemo felt the loving embrace of the jungle in all its ambient, sweaty glory, he came across a Ripsent plant. These incredibly strange plants earned themselves a legendary, infamous reputation. Half plant, half monster, they typically rooted themselves in small pits dug out by their man tendrils, acting like an antlion pit. They were carnivorous things, not unheard of even outside the jungle. The strange thing about them though, is their method of capture. For unknown reasons explained sometimes in native myths, this plant lubricated its tendrils and blossoms in a sickeningly sweet scent that attracts multifarious creatures. One legend speaks of someone who successfully extracted this sweet liquid and created a perfume with a couple other natural reagents that caused anyone of their choice to fall in love with them. And legends later would attest to the unprepared hoping to sneak away a vial, only to fall prey to the Ripsent. Any unlucky enough to fall even shy of the pit trigger the sensitive root web beneath, instantly alerting the plant to its meal. The tentacles, for reasons unknown, are lubricated, and the poor victims are skewered through the rear. If one is lucky, the force will be great enough to pierce the internal organs, causing immense pain and death by blood loss. However, just like real love and all its predatory implications, the plant can be moody and instead choose to net its prey slowly. If it has been a particularly long time since its last meal, they have been known to tightly wrap around the ankles, spreading the legs widely apart, and slithering a tendril up the anus, gradually winding up the intestinal tract, and even all the way through the esophagus before. The explanation for lubrication is considered by scientists to be the method of paralysis, the fluid covering the tendrils stun the victims, but not numbing them. They are then slowly dragged away before being swallowed whole, and melted by powerful, specialized gastric acids. Based on myths, native testimonies, and prolonged observation, even Teemo has considered that the creature simply enjoys violating and feeling the sensation of living beings disintegrating inside it.

While Teemo became a denizen of the jungle, this did not mean that danger did not exist, and today, for the first time in over a decade, he would find himself on the opposite end of the power dynamic. In battles against humans, even when cornered, he felt there was always a way out, and would fight tooth and nail should it ever come to pass that his usual methods of poisoning or vital knife wounds could not do the job. There were times when Teemo had brushes with death when learning the ways of the jungle as a younger man, but he always emerged victorious because of natural talent and intuition. At the deepest moments in death's clutches, Teemo's head was clear. This is what made him so terrifying of an adventure, and so effective of a survivor. The red-hot threats of his demise in combat with people were much more gratifying than the humid, but still icy terrors of death at the hands of the jungle. He wouldn't be glad if he slipped into the root web for even a millisecond because of prideful negligence, or the infernal mechanisms of poor luck. Unfortunately for him, that is precisely what happened. At times Teemo jumped across tree branches and swung from vines. It was a more fun way to travel, and he enjoyed the responsiveness of the tree branches shaking and the feathery weight that came with a precise grip moving to the next hurdle. While he swung, his eyes found the next branch target, and predictably harnessed the kinetic energy to make for the next branch. Owing to astronomically poor luck, the next branch was slick with the scent of that infamous perfume. Teemo has known some branches to get slippery with monkey or bird poop, but the colorations were easy to observe, and his nose couldn't detect where exactly on the branch some bird must have sat before being skewered by the monster below. Both his hands couldn't find their ground, and no branches below offered to save him. Teemo was not so forgetful as to leave behind a grappling hook, but his hands were still wet with the sweet fluids. Only gripping with two hands would meet the requirements to throw it, but one hand was needed to maintain his balance, so he fell, landing just beside the Rispent's pit. He braced for the fall, and recovered quickly, but not without noticing his foot tug briefly on something, and before he could register exactly what that something was, the tentacles were already on him.

Teemo had the misfortune of being in the grips of a long awaited consumer. He swiftly grabbed his blowpipe firmly with both hands, already having a dart preloaded via a custom created mechanism by his own invention. His head was clear, he shot, but his heart would always beat fast, such was the dance with death. He enjoyed the speed at which it filled him with the reminder that he was to live or die based on how he responded to the world. Would his skill save him like it has countless times? Or did it finally fail him. Teemo was perhaps luckiest that the paralytic agent inside the poison he used was so feared because it affected everything. It would slow down the plants movements before eventually destroying the oxygen inside its cells, but the paralysis came first, and Teemo had to wait for the dart to take effect. It felt like forever for him. Legs spread, shorts yanked down, the creature easily fit inside him. Teemo had never been penetrated even if he desired it. He was ill prepared, even for the slippery tentacles in their deft movement to stretch his ass open. It was painful, and pleasurable at the same time. It was a pleasure totally unknown, and totally absurd. Stranger still, this plant had plans for him, and it slithered about inside his anal cavity for quite some time, even going so far as to massage his prostate. Teemo had half a mind to believe that this rare occurrence meant that he wasn't meant to be food, but a plaything. That was an incorrect hypothesis. The creature was indeed playing with him. Due to the paralysis inflicted by the monster, Teemo laid face first on the ground, unable to look behind him. Somehow Teemo felt the creature's susurrations indicated its positive mood at having its way with him, eliciting stronger rustling sounds as it made Teemo ejaculate from his prostate, his pink shaft firing hot semen as he shuddered uncontrollably. The powerless assassin felt every long second of it as he lay there pathetically, sunbathing in hot pleasure. The pain subsided after a point, and the refractory period ended. His dick hardened and began throbbing once more. Tears wet his eyes as he considered how he wanted Tristana to take his virginity, not some fucking plant.

This was a painful, strange experience for him. When was the last time he cried? He truly did not know. His taciturn nature led people to believe he was insane, showing as little care for his friends as he did his enemies, but he was never alone. Tristana always cared for him and shared in a warrior's bond that he never knew how to progress to romance. Others knew about them, and those he spent any prolonged amount of time near in his unit figured that he wasn't as heartless as the cheerful mask he wore suggested. More shaking rustled behind him like joyous laugher, and the monster wrapped a tentacle gently around his cock and stroked it. Teemo hated how good it felt, and he couldn't stop the wet arm from making him cum again, this time even more strongly because both his ass and dick were being stimulated. Teemo could not see it, but the creature used its arms to lap up his semen, and it thought that there might not be much left, thus moving on to the next stage of his torture. The plant attempted to stimulate him other ways, ravaging his anus while stroking him again, forcing a tentacle into his mouth and mingling the sweet scent on his tongue, even massaging his nipples. Teemo couldn't feel much through his nipples usually, but the lack of autonomy over his body amplified the sensation, and he was getting hard once more. But the beast made sure he came with increasing impatience. It was so one sided that eventually Teemo got distracted and attempted to daydream of being handled by Tristana, or just napping happily somewhere else as the torture continued. But the fourth time he came would be the last time formally, because the beast started its ascent, slowly once more, through his guts.

At first the feeling of his insides stirring was a foreign pleasure, like a lover's hand caressing the forbidden parts of your body, drawing tantalizing lines and pressure on places he never knew he could feel. Soon the creature was almost vibrating in a way, shaking his organs to the point of pain, and the next strange thing happened. Teemo was becoming hard from the pain, his tired erection forced to stand up and drip against his will. The creature made more of its shrill rustling, like it was taunting him, before making the last move. It worked the tentacles up through his esophagus, which was not at all pleasurable. Teemo started writhing, wrenching involuntarily as it filled his throat. He tried to cough, to eject the foreign intruder, to no avail. It emerged outside his own mouth, waving in the air, insulting him by appearing playfully before his own eyes while his body screamed. He couldn't even cough at this point, just drool as he failed to breathe. The time passed most slowly here, where Teemo tasted the asinine, insane, searing shame that he would die in such a disappointing manner. Fortunately, his luck returned to him just in time, and the creature reacted strangely to its own intoxication. The poison from Teemo's dart finally kicked in, and the tentacle retracted far enough back into his body that he could breathe, and his ability to move returned to him. Teemo was forced to move on his own and take the tendril out of himself.

Several days later, Teemo woke up in his bed at Bandle City. He was supposed to meet Tristana and some friends at the bar. People knew he was coming home, so he shut himself up in his room, his dreams filled with the torment of his experience. However, from the depths of that pebble's skip from death, something awakened inside him. It was terrible and traumatic to be sure. But he began to feel that his near-death experience was almost positive in a way. He always envisioned himself dying in a fair battle between either a blade or the forces of nature. Never did he feel so sharp a lack of power as he did then, and Teemo wasn't sure how to process it. Something called him. He wanted someone to make him cum that hard again. He didn't want to die yet, but the sensation of bridging life to death was on par with direct combat. Murdering another living person satisfied a deep-seated desire for power, and purpose, but it didn't arouse him. To be frank, it turned him on. Teemo lay in bed, the room shrouded with darkness, his blinds closed at midday. He started touching himself while holding his breath, attempting with his own control to recreate the experience. He was afraid of connection and shied from the touch of people. He could never manage to find the bridge between him and Tristana, and he often masturbated to the thought of her. His dick laid limply as he fondled it. He tried thinking of Tristana, of the missed opportunity that occurred years ago. On a calm and sunny day, they were meeting at the same huge log bench they usually spoke at. Spoke is a misleading way to put it. Teemo sat in silence, eyes fixed on something or other out in the forest while he listened to whatever Tristana could think of was talking for them. His friends Poppy, Lulu, Rumble, Aura, Hops, even the occasional visitors from Demacia like Fiora, Garen, or Lux all eventually told him that Tristana had feelings for him. Teemo did not understand what love was. Poppy could meet him halfway since she knew others who derived pleasure from combat. Soldiers in the same corps, before she moved to Demacia, had explained to her in some detail what Teemo must have been like, how he saw the world. One a different day, only a few before the meeting between Teemo and Tristana, Poppy tried to reach toward the thick wall of silence that lingered around Teemo. She tried to explain that love between people was like that feeling of satisfaction he must get when he's at home in the jungle.

It was a kind effort, but Teemo loved just being in the presence of the environs. He didn't love any specific thing. He admired animals and respected them, but he couldn't quite say he loved them. It Made eating them easier that's for sure. Teemo carried the thought quietly as he sometimes did when those who shared his company tried giving advice. On that day of the meeting, Teemo was approaching the quiet, lush clearing where the log marked their special place. He reflected on Poppy's words the same way he did to the man who trained him to survive. He just didn't know how to apply it. He can put his hands on wood, dirt, and stone, and shape them to his will. Teemo could not figure out how that worked for emotions. She came into view and Teemo approached in his habitual way, moving in silence. Tristana was never startled when he seemed to just pop up, his presence was something she was used to, craved it. Today she planned something special. After a decade of their special silence, enjoying just sitting next to each other, she decided it was time to aim for the next level. Everyone instructed her that just taking a direct plunge would probably speak in a way Teemo understood. He crawled up the back end of the giant log and placed himself down. Tristana looked to her left, for the first time ever, she was surprised. That was because she held a rough blanket next to her, covering her lower half. He remembered how she smiled then, her face flushed. Teemo didn't understand why or what might happen. Tristana was nervous, and her beat faster than it ever had before. She waited for him, dearly hoping, nearly certain that what was about to happen would get through to him. She felt like she understood him in a certain way. Not the way people like him did, but the way people with bonds stretching beyond friendship did. Even Teemo understood that they had something special. The assassin distinguished between his military buddies or rivals, and the ambient conversation the two of them shared where the flow of life moved in a different but predictable pattern.

His instincts told him the wavelength was off. Between them, the flow trembled at its nadir, at the trough of its revolution. Light glimmered in her eyes, excited by the sunrays beaming between the leaves, draping her in the pattern of hovering shadows he recalled perfectly in memory. After a long moment spent gazing at each other, Tristana steeled her will, her smile drooping, eyes narrowing in seriousness. "I want you Teemo" she said. Drawing back the thick blanket, her green-issued underwear matching with her jacket stood out. It was a weird sight, seeing her without pants. A sizeable bulge, like a second bundle of nerves outside her chest, filled the space. Teemo could not grasp why she shivered slightly when it was 90 degrees out. Strangely enough, his own heart was beginning to rise in tempo. He touched at his shirt, like something other than his own heart was rattling around inside. He looked back at her, the portentous vision of her face that haunted his dreams. Then he cast his eyes back at his chest where his hand lingered and concluded that his heart and that other thing were really the same. "Teemo" she said breathily, voice filled with anticipation and longing. Then she lightly gripped the hem of her underwear and tugged it down, the curtain concealing her special place raised for him. Her warm, blue cock covered past the tip in flaccid, lightly drooping skin, stood at attention. Teemo's eyes drank in the sight. He'd seem penises before of course, but Tristana's was different. It was dangerous and beautiful in a way he could not describe, even in his own head. He observed the protruding vein travelling from the base to the glans, the stretchy looking foreskin, and the small bumps remaining where she shaved. Tristana's eyes held onto him desperately. At the time, she felt looking away was backing down, denying what they have, what could be. Her chest thumped so hard it hurt, and forced her to breath through her mouth, a draining blush boiling her face who's stern expression was slipping into insecurity. Teemo's heart was racing in a panic. In his recollection, the shadows of the leaves started to shake, and before he knew it, they danced wildly.

What's happening to me? He thought. In the chaos of desire and uncertainty, Teemo reached out to her, touching the skin of her shoulder briefly before the consuming pulses moving outward consumed him, and he fled. Knowing he couldn't be seen, he stopped into the brush nearby and watched her slumped over, washed by terrible waves of shame and disappointment. Teemo didn't know what to think. He wanted to stay with her, but something that changed them irrevocably forever just took place, and he shared the burden of its responsibility. He was to blame. Even in the wild, scorching atmosphere, he was able to hear her weeping from afar, and he swore that he felt the teardrops crashing onto the bark. Teemo touched himself, erection growing as he recalled the events. A great deluge overwhelmed him every time. The emotion which before was foreign to him in such abundance, sorrow, he envisioned as an endless rain that drowned away all the greenery. Animals climbed trees to escape as each plant unaccustomed to floods lost air and died miserably. Even though the earth lost its constitution, the hills melted, and the sun was hidden behind brooding, immeasurably sad clouds. But always after the opera, the deluge disappears. Like it never happened, Teemo and Tristana sad on the soft grasses of the clearing and kissed one another sweetly.

Still, Teemo could not quite conceptualize what they would do, only that kissing is what people that loved each other did. "I love her right? That feeling of emptiness tormenting me from that day on, it's because I love her?" He asked himself that frequently, but now he basked in the fantasy of what love is supposed to mean. Others told him it meant that they held each other tightly and pressed their lips together, sometimes exchanging saliva with their tongues in each other's cave. In these dreams, they separated, both drawing hot breaths, and Tristana reclined slightly onto her arms almost like how she did back on the log. Her pants were missing, and the wore the same drab green underwear as before. This time though, she smiled softly because they both wanted the other, and Teemo stared at the firm outline of her hard erection pushing the fabric upward to the left side leaning on her thigh beneath the cloth. Teemo brimmed eagerly, and he didn't hesitate to unsheathe her. Her splendid shaft was free. The blue meat hung a couple of inches above her toned and shapely thigh. It pulsed hard and fast, faster than Teemo's ever did when he tried to study his own body. He would think "This is because of me…" and grasped her, feeling the heat of the flesh. They smiled at each other, Tristana blushing, but Teemo happy and unafraid. He crawled forward on all fours, pushing her chest back as their lips neared, and he bore his weight on her. Tristana had to shift her hands quickly before falling on her back, chuckling at how forward he was.

"Woah there tiger, I'm not going anywhere anymore. Hold on, let me-" she purred.

She wore a band beneath her shirt and overshirt, so it only took a couple of seconds to release her breasts. She removed it the way Teemo heard women did, crossing their arms in an x. Laying exposed, her arms were open at her sides. Tristana wasn't embarrassed in the slightest like she was used to walking around Teemo's dwellings naked as the day she was born. She only blushed because she was happy to be seen by his eyes. Seen and admired by one who could appreciate her. Teemo only saw her beautifully small chest for a few seconds before quickly undressing and depositing his clothes the opposite side to Tristana. He didn't sit tall to let his manhood hang for her, just taking in the sight of the leaves' shadows making a portrait of her body, the skin tone cooler in shade. He liked to imagine each vision like this was the first time he bore witness to her snowy locks missing the bomber's goggles she always wore. The first time she was missing the everyday accoutrements that make her recognizable to anyone else. This was her true body, not identified by clothing, but by pure skin. Even now in Teemo's mind, he didn't see this and identify it with the word beautiful. It was a wordless, thoughtless thing. Just as he conducted himself with others silently, things blew through his head like a gale across grasses, a rustling of leaves, or a crunching branch.

The image, like back then, was fulfilled without fear in this dream of Teemo's. Everything was right, private, meaningful, and perfect. This was a mythical, wonderful time, like seeing a seed placed by his hand blossoming into a tall flower visited by bees and beetles. Some unknowable feeling of completeness welled up in his chest as air, and he let the breath escape slowly. He snuck down to Tristana's crotch fast and kissed her head. The warmth was different from her lips. Before going down on her, he drew his nose down the shaft and stuck it just below the base by her balls to inhale deeply of her scent. In this imagined world, her genitals had a heavy musk that filled his nostrils and pushed a rush of stimulus to his brain. His eyes closed as he did this, and his eyes unknowingly rolled back under the influence of her smell. It was only the beginning of his show of the skills he honed in the safety of his head where the dreamlike Tristana only responded lovingly to his work. Now Teemo was focused, his brain a defined haze of pleasure. His mouth opened as gracefully as he could imagine it and clamped softly around her dick. Her hard cock remained concealed by her long skin, and he gently rubbed the shaft, carrying the sheathe up and down as his tongue washed the tapered end of the lightly drooping foreskin in saliva. He focused on making her wet and warm, rotating around the covered head, feeling for the outline of the tip. Though his tongue was too small for the underside to reach all the way to the front rim of Tristana's cock, so he spent several minutes licking the spots where her glans ascended its corona. He thought it was like the first and final step of a staircase, rising rounded to the peak.

He breathed hard through his nose to keep clamped on her for as long as he could before drawing back to observe the mess he made. Tristana's hungry, reserved eyes approved of the way he draped her member in mucus that trailed in droplets down her shaft at. Dutifully Teemo returned, holding the tip with just his mouth to feel her throb for a few moments, relishing in how hot she became. He wasn't aware of any particular strategy to follow and was guided by instinct to pull the skin open slowly so he could stick his tongue beneath the hood where he rotated around her head for a while. He took in strongly the sponginess of her glans, pressing with his muscle to prod and feel the mushroom-shaped thing regain its shape. He felt his tongue was home between her flesh. He almost was at the realization that he needed to have accepted her when she first revealed her body to him and pleasured her this way. He stroked her at the same steady pace, stopping the rhythmic rotation of his tongue to try and stick it in her urethra. Her cock was big, but not large enough for that. Unable to plumb that depth, he flexed his tongue in wave motion at the entrance. The sudden change in the texture of pleasure made Tristana moan loudly in response. For a while, she only breathed heavily like she was trying to restrain herself from exploding in his mouth. Unfamiliar with masturbation, Teemo was unsure exactly how much it took to cause an orgasm, and in actuality, Tristana would have erupted by now. Here he had full control over just how long she could last. In fact, after minutes passed of his methods, it seemed like the salty flavor of her cock was disappearing because he collected up all the flavor in his copious amounts of saliva and swallowed it as one does with a lollipop. Tristana moaned at predictable intervals.

After cleaning out her folds thoroughly, he withdrew once more to look at Tristana's face which was now listless. Her chest heaved shallowly like her body felt so much pleasure her lungs no longer could hold all the oxygen they needed to pump air to her head.

"Teemo… I-I can't take it- anymore…" she gasped breathlessly.

The words poured desperately out her mouth. So overcome was she that it took real effort to speak. Overjoyed at his progress, Teemo finally placed his right hand carefully around her head and slowly peeled the skin back. Her rod pulsed hard and expectantly as the pink tip protruded out like a jeweled crown revealed beneath expensive silk at a coronation. The proud and lovable Yordle gunner was figuratively and literally in the palm of Teemo's hand. He could do anything he wanted to her. Thoughts like those didn't pass through his mind though. He only wanted to make her feel good. It was his genuine desire emerging from a deep and unknown love tinted blue-green with guilt. Now he prepared to finish her. The scout sat, his red dick standing at attention, being stroked cautiously in his left hand. Teemo was close. He was careful to keep himself ready to cum alongside her, and waited patiently, watching Tristana grimace like it was painful to be left so on edge. Teemo understood how she was so hard it hurt, he experienced it himself numerous times when he masturbated to all his Tristana fantasies. With an intimate understanding of the precipice of climax, he had to make sure she lasted at least five more seconds of direct stimulation, and didn't move his hand. He waited, his tender grip on the base of her girth measuring her flesh to feel for it softening just a little. Just a little longer. Teemo watched, taking in the full sight of her glory. For a yordle, her nine inches was huge, and now that it was unsheathed, he was surprised at how her foreskin shaped up. He couldn't touch it, stretch it, or play with it because that would throw her overboard. So he just took in the details. Before it was clumped up at her head, each minute crevice nearly like leather. But when pulled down, it looked nice and firm like the rest of her length. His eyes moved toward the crown, and the closer the skin was to the top, the deeper in hue it became. Moreover, it got thicker, and light ridges formed. A shiver ripped up his spine when he imagined how it would feel inside him.

The sheath loosened ever so slightly. It was time. Teemo's left hand gripped his dick while the right tightened on Tristana. He was so absorbed in her beautiful cock he failed to notice how vulnerable Trist looked as her eyelids lowered defenselessly, evidently tired from being riled up so much for so long. When Teemo's grip tightened, and he went for the kill, Tristana's eyes fluttered open as if in a dream, and she let out a small yelp. Teemo's little mouth engulfed her, and he sucked viciously on only her glans while stroking her rod, feeling the delightful motion of her shaft's skin rising and falling effortlessly. Trist was thrust back to awakening. It felt so good, so powerful, that she felt the need to grasp his head, but doing so with both hands would have her fall over. Holding herself up by her palms resting behind her, she was relentlessly attacked, quickly approaching climax. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6…? Teemo didn't expect her to last one second more, but Tristana did. She was a soldier, after all, endurance was one of her specialties. The ammunition in her balls was primed to fire in the cannon. Her moans weren't sweet and prolonged anymore. The groans were nearly indistinguishable from those of the wounded, sounding pitiful, feverish, and fierce. Her teeth grit together. She can't take it anymore. She fell onto her back, placed both hands on Teemo's head, and shoved cock down his mouth. The second her head felt the change in sensation from mouth to throat, she fired all that pent-up emotion and semen straight into this belly. Teemo came at the same time, and the realization that his hot seed fell into the bedsheets beside him was apparent when it flowed down the depression on the cushion onto his thigh. The fantasy ended with yet another amazing, lonely orgasm in his dark room.

He breathed hot, shallow breaths. Not caring to move, he fell asleep in that spot. A few hours later, it was about six in the evening when something came to his attention. A not-so-gentle tap on the head nudged him awake. A few close friends had access to his home, but rarely did anyone enter, who could it be? It was unlike him to react so slowly, so unprepared. With senses dulled by depression and sloth, his eyes flickered open a second slower than usual. Before him, in his room, was a demon. A tall, human-sized demon with blue skin stood before him. Her black horns curved backward like a goat. The thinly ridged horns made her silver hair stand out. Her visage was comely and sure of itself, eyes draped with smoky, onyx mascara. It was hardly worth mentioning how generic her risqué attire was. All these features were wrapped into a neat little bow her wide hips that paired well with her modest breasts held surprisingly firm to her chest with the crisscrossing and sumptuous white dress. The only factor that stood out was the weirdly large belt at her waist which carried an array of hooks. She came with a purpose and took little time to answer it. Having acknowledged what probably was happening, though understandably still confused, the demoness spoke to him.

"I couldn't help but notice a poor little man desperately touching himself…" she remarked.

Her voice contained a touch of sympathy, but anyone familiar with demons knew that it was likely emulation. A learned expression used for self-serving purposes. Teemo could see as much in her eyes, but he was indeed desperate and open to whatever offer she might make. Even if he was open, Teemo's instincts kept a glimmer of dark suspicions in his eye.

"Oh no need to look at me like that little guy. I'm not going to suggest anything cruel I was thinking you help me out with a little something personally,"

Her tone was amiable and surprisingly honest. Many demons possessed the ability to read thoughts, and Teemo's voiceless mind was open to her. He didn't have to open his mouth, for she knew what he would say and began to lay out her intentions.

"I was drawn to your lust and shame. You're actually my type you know? If you just speak up about your feelings, I can make this worth your while…" she said.

Her sultry voice fainted to a whisper, and she moved uncomfortably close to Teemo's stiffening body, trailing a finger along the beige fur of his cheek. The closer she moved, the more his cheeks seemed sallow. Most are aware of the mind-reading abilities belonging to creatures of the night. As Teemo was already basically mute, he felt no need to speak. Their eyes connected, and the oppressive thoughts were siphoned from the depths of Teemo's irises. Of course, the sky-blue demoness likely already collected the required evidence and questioned further for her amusement. Teemo just glared at her. After several minutes, the capricious succubus realized she could draw no words from his mouth and carried on. She drew back and opened a rift to another world. Succubi derived their sustenance from the pleasure of other beings. Some had preferences, this one in particular felt a stirring in her loins at the sight of cute little yordles. There was a tacit understanding Teemo held that this woman would not harm him directly, or indeed, not at all. Her appearance alone created an uncomfortable atmosphere, but maybe she wasn't evil, just hedonistic, as they all often were. From out of the opaque rift, which was bordered by thick, inky, smoke, an equally pitch-dark cube fell out onto her open hand. The motion with which it fell was graceful to the point of disquiet. It was merely natural that demons move like their every action drew both material and immaterial things to their waiting grips. Without needing to fully close the vice of her bony fingers tipped with pointed opal fingernails, the cube sat expectantly. The object announced its own presence, so singular and curious it was. Teemo was instantly captured a little bit. That was the second hook the demon slipped into him.

"This box contains a delightful creature. It's a denizen of the void, and its natural habitat leaves little to be desired. They drift through desolate stone caverns until it becomes activated" she explained.

Teemo knew where this was going. This thing had to be like a ripsent. Teemo's breath caught in his chest. His heartbeat felt like a dull lump. It pounded, forcing him to breathe in hungrily after depriving himself of oxygen at the thought of what would happen. The fantasy about Tristana was powerful, but not enough. Deep in his chest, his core thumped harder, every second growing duller. He was astonished at how his body was remembering his near-death experience before his mind could catch up. Was it a strategy the demons employed, pulling the latent memories of his desires out of the deep sinews and muscles while linking his mind toward a promise of release till the two were intertwined? Teemo didn't know, he was too absorbed now. Some succubi simply take what they want, using special spells to entice their victims or generate special scents that stir their desires. This one didn't need to, her mind-reading allowed her to take precisely what she needed. Each word and idea allowed her to pick which hooks she drew out her belt. Whomever she chose fell to her charms, and they became beyond noticing the hooks winding through the air, drifting as one might in water, sinking like an anchor into their hearts. Three were in place already.

"I think you know what 'activated' means don't you? It needs to feed, much like I do. We're a team, them and I. People buy these little boxes for insanely strong masturbation sessions, but I can't just let you have it. I want to watch it ravage you."

She spoke the words plain as day. Discussing and making demands of pleasure most mortals could only know in fantasy was second nature for her. Teemo was in deep because his dense desire for total vulnerability coagulated in him. From his perspective, at this moment, he might not even know that what the succubus suggested was truly obscene and gratuitous. (though some wanderers of the plains of pleasure might say its perfectly normal) Teemo's chest grew rhythmically like balloons rapidly inflating and deflating. The enticing woman moved the cube close and continued.

"What's in it for me? Just my own pleasure, and your semen of course. When the creature forces you to climax I'll collect it. That's all. You'll be perfectly safe. That is, if you trust me" she smirked.

That was the last hook. Her skill at drawing in her victims was nothing special. Taking advantage of people's desires through mind reading and access to numerous otherworldly tools was simple and easy. It was the foolish who believed she had skill. Her manner of business wasn't much different than wealthy individuals who wave money in the faces of those in debt. In this way, demons were typically more honest than mortals for they embodied the vices of dishonest individuals. Teemo was hardly vexed, his urges got the better of him, and he reached out to touch the cube to confirm his answer.

"Great. Then let's get to it" she decided.

The woman drew a fine chair, like one you'd find at a palace, from another portal. She sat upon it, her large bottom sliding smoothly into place on the white, jewel-patterned satin, crossing her legs in the same motion. Then her head bent slightly to the left where her long fingers held it gently. She looked very regal despite the base appearance of her clothes. Her right hand was atop the cube which rested on the chair's right arm. Her finger rubbed the cube lewdly. She itched to press whatever button let loose the creature, but she was going to explain one last thing before it was time. Teemo watched her complete those motions, just as impatient to engage in the limb-splitting pleasure at the hands of the beast. His eyes followed her since it was natural in such a situation. However, he only followed her til she stopped, then his gaze locked on the cube. Teemo was far more interested in what the cube contained than the woman's figure.

"Once the thing breaks out, it'll fuck you senseless, just like the ripsent you've been aching to see again. Fortunately for you, I'll restrain it just before it chokes the life out of you. I promise you won't die… So, ready?"

The demon bit her lip after finishing her words, the deeper blue shade on her lips turning paler from the pressure until she relieved it. Her voice was the strangest mix of emotions. It was evident in her tone that she looked forward to watching a little furry man nearly die of asphyxiation under her direct control, but at the same time, a strand of sorrow swam in her erotic voice. She couldn't wring the maximum amount of pleasure out of any dead yordle. She would be deeply sad to kill her victims. Well, for her they weren't victims, more like toys, well-loved stuffed animals sitting on her queenly bed in whatever realm she hailed from. Teemo nodded, and the succubus depressed something somewhere on the cube, causing a rushing mass of tentacles to erupt. A few tendrils, propelled by pure instinct attempted to penetrate the woman. They slammed against an invisible wall several times before realizing they couldn't possess her, and they instantly turned around to join the others already stripping Teemo of his will. One coiled around his torso. Two held his arms apart on either side. Two swirled on his nipples, while another made short work of tearing his pants off. The tough threads tore audibly, the sound tipping off the demoness whose hand, which was teasing her crotch through her loincloth, flung the long strip of fabric aside, slid the last barrier to the side and made circular motions around her clitoris. She carried the flowing folds of her labia with each swirl.

Teemo was naked now, and one tentacle, noticeably larger than the others, stood at the entrance to his asshole. The tip of the slender appendage split apart like fetid flower petals, and a steaming, slippery nodule covered in spherical bulbs snuck out. It hovered surprisingly slower toward his hole like a scent only it could detect was luring it. Then it lightly pushed itself at the pink, pucker. To some, it might look like it was gauging its ability to enter him, but the demoness knew it was just finding the best position to dive full force into his guts. If each hungry pearl on the tendril was an eye, they would be fully focused on its next move. Teemo instinctively struggled at his bindings, wondering in his twist of fear and excitement why it hadn't impaled him yet. He wondered no longer because the huge, stinking, knob thrust straight past his ring causing him to cry out. Teemo wasn't prepared for it. He couldn't yelp so much as spit up. It was like globs of blood or vomit forcing its way out the mouth after a stabbing or powerful punch to the stomach. Similarly, an orgasm was pushed out his cock forcibly. The tentacle slammed past his prostate, making him relive the frightening sensation of needing to urinate but being unable to. No urine would come out of course, because only semen could right now. The impossibly grand pleasure oscillated from body to mind, from a gut punch to a blow that knocked the spirit from the body. The demoness was unable to watch his pink, fleshy cock spasm as it squirted semen because he was being shaken so vigorously. She understood it was a side effect of this creature, sadly. The ejaculate flew through the air. The blue woman instinctually knew when a man came and made an effort to catch it midair with her weak telekinetic abilities at the moment she climaxed. Her moans went unheard to Teemo. The thick, fluid shuddered in the throes of gravity since the succubus was going in and out of focus due to the waves of pleasure pulsing throughout her body. She was an expert though, and no semen ever went to waste, though there were times when it came close. With a languid twirl of her still pulsing hand, she guided the liquid into a chalice dedicated to holding her drink.

Teemo's body reached a height too high, more than it could take. He shook uncontrollably, mind shocked and reeling. Teemo was unconscious, his eyes unresponsive to the generous lighting in his room that made a performance of his transformation. Saliva dripped like a faucet out his mouth. Naturally, discharge was dripping from the succubus' pussy at the same rate. She already came, the lengths of honey, which hung by several strands from her cavern, mixed with the faster stream of fluids flowing from her river. Anyone would understand as much if they came into the room just now and saw the furry little man hanging limply in the coil of the tentacles being relentlessly drilled even still; while at the same time, the blue woman's head was tilted far back onto the head of the chair taking shallow hot breaths, hips slipping steadily off the grip of the cushion, her hand taking a small respite from stimulating herself. She took her time since she had all the time in the world to experience the afterglow. She was a manipulator of pleasure, not a seer. She didn't know her fun would come very soon to an end. Picking herself back up, she found the heat and sweat buildup from her own ass somewhat uncomfortable, which might seem surprising to those unfamiliar with demons. While the dark tendrils jerked Teemo off, trying to get him hard again, they made terribly loud and stomach-churning sounds with the slick goo that made sliding in and out him so charming and quick.

She got up from the chair and summoned an equally expensive looking one along with a long towel out of another portal. It was substantially larger and could move backwards allowing her to recline more comfortably. She carefully placed her towel along the length of the recliner and plopped her butt down on it. Since Teemo was unconscious, he wasn't able to watch her act a little less refined. The demoness wasn't cruel, or at least she didn't plan to be, but her plans required doing things most would object to. Only a select group of people opted to undertake Teemo's treatment or watch it happen. The demoness worked her magic and restored Teemo's consciousness. Suddenly he awoke to vicious thrusts performed by an additional tentacle because the creature thought more pleasure would probably bring its victims back to waking. Now he returned to making the sputtering, silent yelps the demoness absorbed like a drug. The dizzied eyes that lulled in Teemo's sockets already were driving her to another orgasm. That was no problem to her. Women were able to cum forever back to back. The only problem is that her hand was getting tired. So she opened yet another portal making an irritated click of her tongue at the fact that she managed to forget to bring a tool to help her, and the motion of her masturbation was interrupted. Out the inky blackness came a high-end hextech vibrator. The thing looked like a magic scepter. For all intents and purposes, it practically was one, it just didn't cast spells designed to kill people.

She flicked a few switches and buttons on the blue and white handle and it began to float on its own before her vagina. The tip of it was a big blue crystal, a couple of shades darker than her skin, and it fired a concentrated beam of energy at her clit instantly bringing her to the edge of an explosion. She chose the exact settings required to maintain that level. She couldn't achieve the full awareness of her pleasure without being stable enough to watch Teemo's expressions move with the flows of black flesh penetrating him with the raw force of rogue ocean waves. She watched the tendrils tweak Teemo's nipples that previously lay hidden under his fur. They were a cute, soft pink. They weren't as manly as one would expect of a hardened survivalist. Unlike dogs and other mammals, Teemo sweat through his skin, so his fur was becoming drenched with perspiration that pooled on his bed below him.

The void creature was a little different from the ripsent. It didn't intentionally kill its victims. It fed on the pleasures of its victim. But these beings wandered the wasteland of the void for seemingly infinite miles finding no life forms to pleasure. They survived in the void by forcing themselves on anything they happened upon. However, the ones that have a steady source of food can become rather placid, entering symbiotic relationships with other void denizens. Rek'sai often masturbated with their help, and her roars of pleasure would echo out into the empty space so loudly and fiercely that weaker void creatures believed she was on a rampage and scurried away as fast they could. This one in the box was deprived of food, and desperately hungry. Perhaps the only objectively cruel thing this demoness actually did was make use of these abused creatures. What's worse, is that they could live for years without a single meal and being unable to hibernate, writhed in hunger pains in the darkness of thousands of containment cells like this one. If Teemo knew that he would have objected to her plans. He respected nature and only believed in clean kills. Even being starved, this one just pleasured Teemo intensely without killing him for the time being. They could sense the desires of their food just like a succubus, and knowing Teemo consented to his treatment, was going to act more violently soon. It was a fortunate situation because the demoness wasn't above using a setting on the box to agitate it and force to act in accordance to her will.

The pleasure went on, and the succubus spasmed in her chair. Her body moved like it was trying to find a comfortable position inside a hot metal box. The hextech vibrator also had the special trait of keeping its laser trained on her clit no matter how she moved. There was no comfortable position for her, so restraints weren't required to stop her from trying to remove anything stimulating her clitoris itself. There was a setting to make the laser dimensional, so even if she clamped her hands over her pussy the pleasure wouldn't cease. Additionally, another setting, which came with a warning attached, made the wand move from the target's hands so they couldn't turn it off. This succubus knew her body perfectly though, and the level of pleasure she currently endured was just enough to keep her conscious and aware without needing to turn it off. After a few more cycles of semen extraction, Teemo's cock was hurting from the consecutive milkings, and the succubus wanted to see the next level of the show. Silently, she used her telepathy to suggest to the creature that it can move on with suffocating him under one condition. It heard her words, and the demoness and void creature moved into the desired positions. Teemo was positioned on the bed, his whole body held down with great pressure by the tendrils, and the succubus sat above Teemo's head, shifting on her knees til her still dripping pussy was nearly above his mouth.

Then the woman snapped her fingers, and the bulb-headed tentacle retracted from Teemo's insides instead replaced with a flood of five smaller ones. They intertwined as one and began ripping through his intestines. Teemo's eyes shot open in a panic. This was the thing he was waiting for. They twisted in a spiral, bumping this way and that so he could feel the things stretch out all the parts that shouldn't be stretched in a body as it wound its way to his esophagus. Teemo saw his belly wriggling beneath his skin. The visions combined with the combined sensations of foreign, slimy beings climbing up his mouth made his limp dick harden against his will and ejaculate. By this point, even with a mind-shattering orgasm, the amount of semen that came out was pathetic. His glans wept a clear liquid, dribbling down his small length. His veins were tired, and they pulsed weakly but noticeably at their limits. Teemo's drooling cock was almost red with exhaustion, and the whole of its body vibrated the smallest bit. The demoness felt his orgasm like it were her own so hot was the pathetic orgasm to her. Teetering on insanity, all she could do was moan "fuck… fuck… oh god" over and over with her sweaty hand caressing Teemo's cheek while her honey strands dripped on him. Finally, Teemo's vision became blurry when the tentacles pierced his throat and arrived through his mouth on the other end of his body. All of his body was filled the most a body could be filled, and he was losing oxygen.

This is what the position was for. The blue laser trained on the demoness' cunt was unrelenting, but the one orgasm she would allow to push her over the edge into unawareness was about to come with the help of the creature. She got to see a precious sight. Teemo's eyes, wild with the coalescence of ultimate fear and joy. They bulged wet with tears. The more unresponsive they became, the more the tentacles coming out his mouth moved even further to penetrate the succubus' pussy. It was like the flood of feel-good hormones that precipitated in Teemo's body was carried by the tentacle in full motion through all his flesh, ending with the last delivery to the demon woman's womb. Teemo felt like he was being carried close to the sun, simultaneously being lowered into cold water in darkness both figuratively, and literally. The extremes of pleasure were titanic and dredged out the sunken treasures at the depths of experience, a place that was dark with light. At the same time, Teemo literally no longer could see because the demon woman's ass covered his eyes, and any space in his throat the tentacles weren't filling were vacated with her fluids. This was it, the demon woman's head was thrown back, even her arms didn't support her and she felt backward on Teemo's bed climaxing so powerfully she could not speak. She just shivered as an endless stream of ejaculate emptied from her. Teemo touched the lake of death again, a pleasure beyond his body.

Despite being unconscious, the eye in Teemo's mind contacted light somewhere. In the darkness of those waters, a glimmer flashed, and he saw one of those sunken treasures. It was will, hope, and love. Something he was too afraid to make use of. Those things told him that he had to see Tristana, that he wanted to live so he could love her. About an hour later, Teemo woke up. The demoness was still there, and Teemo laid in a soaked mess of his sweat knowing what he had to do. His eyes had a shine they lacked before, and the woman caught onto it.

"Oh? What's this? Wanna go again?" she teased.

"I need your help again. There's someone I love, and I need to go to her." He stated rigidly.

"What's that got to do with me little guy?" she smiled in anticipation.

"Teach me how to pleasure a woman's dick so I can be properly prepared for her" He demanded.

"Lucky for you, I've got this. And even luckier, I'll do this one for free too" she decided.

Her mouth was salivating at the thought of taking Teemo's fruit directly, and motioned toward her crotch, casting some kind of magic. A strange transformation took place there, as pinkish flesh was emerging like a hand was trying to force its way out, but as it travelled further, it stopped around nine inches in length as it started to form a mushroom hood at the tip. The rest of the flesh ceased its odd, and frankly grotesque twisting as it adapted to her body, a layer of blue skin forming like little islands coming out the ocean land ridges. Teemo witnessed the rapid growth of a fresh blue cock the size of Tristana's. Though he didn't like the idea of having sex with another humanoid, and as far as he knew, rational being, he regretfully remembered that Tristana made love with other men since he rejected her. He would be lying if he didn't find a blue woman's hooded dick sexy.

"I'm glad I could help you find your voice. Now. On your knees cutie, you're about to get familiar with a woman."

Meanwhile, in another part of Bandle City, Rumble was getting his insides pummeled. Having had his ass trained by human, Demacian soldiers while deployed, he was accustomed to big dicks in his butt. His erection swung like a metronome under the force, and his well-known mohawk shook too. He was on the receiving end of heavy ordinance, the kind of stuff the military used to blow down walls. It's just that in this case the walls were made of flesh, and were protected by dignity, and muscle contractions. Such things were easily blown away by the Bandle gunner Tristana. Those cute little breasts of hers bounced vertically with the resounding impact of their thighs slamming together. Rumble's higher-pitched voice made his moans more feminine, much to the pleasure of those who became acquainted with his insides. A bisexual, Rumble appreciated the sweaty muscles of the large Demacian men. The penises of Yordle men weren't naturally very small, but Rumbles was. A nice three inches, which was already beaten by the average human-sized dick. He felt himself at home on the receiving end of cocks bigger than his own. That isn't to say he never slept with littler Yordles, he's done it before, but when a relationship wasn't romantic, he preferred non-romantic sizes.

Tristana was a very charismatic and attractive woman, a fan favorite among Bandle city and Demacian citizens. She caught most eyes and dreams, including Rumble's. Rumble, the poor fellow, was a dreamer. Both before and after the incident with Teemo, he still had no luck in a relationship with her. At best, he was a sex friend. Having fought beside her, Rumble cared for her deeply. Unlike Teemo, he would defend her in combat when possible. Teemo was always confident in both their capabilities, so he did not feel the need to protect her per se. He'd blow a dart to the unsuspecting necks of any enemies that gave his own a hard time, regardless of who it was. Perhaps he was more concerned with killing than protecting. So, watching her all this time, Rumble had to take a shot. He also heard the rumors about the meat she was packing. Tristana stayed in the woman's barracks, so most information about her dick came from whatever women felt like bragging. Some men didn't believe it when Lulu and friends talked about obnoxious things at the bar or around the campfire going, "Some of these guys are cowards. Trist's got the biggest dick around here." It was a convenient manner of speech that drew no direct suspicion to the idea that she actually had a penis. It wasn't uncommon for women in general to have dicks, its just that especially large ones caught attention. In a macho environment like the military, the men still wanted to walk around like they had the big sticks in every way. Whoever had the stuff would strut it. Though one night, in a bout of confessions, a couple of women, Yordle, troops were talking about how they'd blown her, and that she was the biggest they'd ever taken. The words were overheard and passed around, eventually, the local tough guy came up to her in front of everyone in broad daylight demanding that they measure sizes to prove a point. It was a problematic demand, because that man in particular, though he was attractive and big, wasn't as big downstairs.

Thinking he had it in the bag, in a contest of pure masculinity, he whipped his cock out before a crowd of humans, Yordles, and others. His rod was already hard in anticipation of victory and in excitement from the attraction he was getting. No matter how stupid you were, a big enough dick got admirers. Tristana had to reach full mast and rub her crotch from outside her bomber shorts. To the man's surprise, and the considerable surprise of anyone who didn't know, a huge thing was bulging up. The contour looking like a third leg was growing on the right side of her shorts. Tristana took her time loosening her pants, and after the craziest single minute of hooliganism the armies got, her nine-incher came out. Everyone remembered what she said: "How's that for a big stick tough guy?" She said those words, and right after slapped her big meat against his eight inches. He was defeated on the biggest stage as far as he was concerned. The man ducked out with his tail between his legs. To this day he still says a real measurement would have proven he was bigger. Rumble was unfortunate enough not to see Tristana's victory that day, but since he knew, he wanted to see it in person. The idea of the beautiful woman he knew Tristana to be sporting a prize that large? He had to have a taste no matter what. After the falling out with Teemo, he took his chance to be a comfort to her with his body. She accepted, and that first time they hooked up, Rumble was amazed to discover her package. Tristana exercised every other day, sometimes bathing in the woods beneath a waterfall like a fantastic and wild beauty (though she would never call herself that nor be particularly flattered at the idea). That day they met up though, she skipped it, and when her cock popped out the baggy pants she usually wore in the city, Rumble got a deep whiff of her scent. It was incredible to him, to have found out that a woman's cock got thick with sweat and released the same dizzying musk men did.

Set for another tryst, if you might call it that, Trist made no secret of stepping through Rumble's front yard. The back entrance was open to friends, and the whole of the back was open to anyone really. He was an amicable guy. Sporting a tanned leather jacket, Rumble often was seen whacking and tweaking on his mechanical death machine. It was multifunctional, doing everything from heavy lifting, construction, transportation, drink and meal preparation, but mostly it was known for death. It was his least favorite part actually, but desperate times called for desperate measures. War bred fearful innovation. Heimerdinger was partial to lasers and more "refined" methods of eradication, but Rumble stuck with classic electrocution and flames. If there was a silver lining, the most humane aspect was that a charred corpse could still be buried; Heimerdinger's machines sometimes left no corpse since they were either blown to the four winds or vaporized. It was unknown to her neighbors if Tristana was romantically involved with Rumble, but her friends figured her choosing the front entrance was some kind of tacit signal something was different. It's not like she was ever shy about knocking on any doors no matter where they were. The problem was, Trist kept her cards close to her chest regarding love. It was one of the very few things kept secret. Because of this, even Poppy or Lulu wasn't sure. The friend group usually met at several places, and Rumble's house was one. A most telling sign, clothes or toiletries left behind were the solid proof they had. A toothbrush, deodorant, and a pair or two of boxer briefs meant Trist had spent the night a few times. So… they were friends.

They were friends, certainly. Friends could do something like that, have sex… Tristana wasn't as thrilled for what the actions implied as much as what they entailed. The situation was as awkward for as many reasons as it was hot. She moved on as much as anyone could manage to in the years that passed, but in meetings like these, Tristana couldn't help but envision Rumble as being like Teemo in some ways. Having worked together for so long, Tristana had caught a glimpse or two of Teemo's penis and enjoyed that Rumble's was around the same size. In terms of facial features, Rumble wasn't as cute as Teemo. His face was more weasel-like while Teemo's equally close features reminded her more of a fuzzy human. Trist liked being on top of most men since she understood the power she wielded. Those who denied being bisexual or gay still chose, sometimes reluctantly, to bottom for her after seeing how much bigger she was. In her relationships, unless the person was a unique kind of special, the rule was "bigger dick tops." From Tristana's perspective right now, the girthy shaft was so big it nearly covered both Rumble's eyes. Moving side to side, Rumble tried to wrap his head around it, even his hands barely stretched about the circumference. Tristana smiled coolly at the sight of Rumble slowly stroking himself at the mere thought of licking. Her eyes narrowed the way someone did when smiling out of kindness, but a latent pride and mischievousness clearly had a kind of grip on the blue, furry, man. Thoughts were sometimes as powerful as actions. In some cases, more powerful. Rumble could cum from just the smell. The length of her foreskin made it even easier. The routine was natural at this point. He waited patiently for her order. When in a worse mood, Tristana forbade him to touch himself.

Today was the usual, so she just stood, her might speaking for itself. For a few minutes she left Rumble to take deep breaths of her junk. The pulsating rod itself was sicky with it, but Rumble could only stand to admire the measure of penetration for about fifteen seconds before diving into her balls. Tristana's shorts were still hugging her hips since she hadn't taken them off fully. Only her cock and most of her balls were free, so Rumble had to use just his nose to push through the fabric of them and her underwear to get an ideal spot for smelling like a pig digging for truffles. Grabbing onto his silly mohawk, Tristana clumped it together in one hand and jerked his head around in her pit of musk.

"Go on, deep breaths now, I know how much you love to shove your face in my balls…" she cooed.

Rumble liked to alternate sticking his nose as far into the swampy skin as he could like he was absorbing her smell through his skin. It was so stimulating saliva pooled steadily in his mouth, but he usually kept it from spilling, so they decided to try something a little different. He wanted to refrain from breathing in through his mouth so that her scent felt like it overpowered him. Eventually, Trist bought a ball gag for him which he currently wore. Steeping himself in her was a task he focused on, and Tristana held onto his hair and pushed his head into her genitals waiting to feel for him pulling back. By the time breath was shorn too thin, Rumble's lungs were heaving for their lack, and Trist forced his face to stick around for a few more seconds. Tristana was much stronger than him. Rumble was a mechanic, not a member of the standing army after all. Even with the difference in strength, Rumble's arms could still dislodge his head from the moist grips of her hot loins. That too had a solution, so Trist bought a pair of tight cuffs and bound his arms behind his back so he was at her mercy. Trust was used to the rhythm by now, and knew just how long it took before Rumble would actually start choking and felt for how his head shivered beneath. When the time was right, she let go, and his head drew back quickly. Rumble jerked himself vigorously in that period, and Tristana could tell by the look in his half-closed lids that he came while being buried.

"Aww, you came already? Poor thing. Bad boys don't get a reward. Let's get these out the way" she stated.

She stripped off her notable olive-green shorts. The combined vigor from her previous exercise added to the excitement of Rumble's submission made them cling to her thighs more. She peeled them off along with the pink panties that were wedged between her ass and balls where Rumble rooted through. Carelessly she threw both aside, the underwear making a titillating contrast in the loose bundle of clothes. Rumble was breathing hard before, now he just inhaled and exhaled with the fervor of sex. His black eyes hung sadly to the fabric bereft of love on the floor. He wanted to ball up her underwear and stuff his nose in them too. Sadly, he broke the rule they had. If he couldn't keep from touching himself as he desperately breathed her in, she wouldn't jerk him off while rubbing her panties in his face. Instead, Rumble lamented on his loss as Trist dislodged the slimy gag from his mouth. With the next motion, she only turned around and kneeled onto his couch. She laid her torso on it and waited. This was where Rumble humorously (or pathetically, depending on who you ask) shuffled on his knees over to her on the blue thread carpet. Tristana's big, blue ass was slick, big cock dangling and dripping with precum like a faucet. Rumble wished he could get the best exposure to her butt by grabbing it roughly from both sides of her hips and rubbing his furry face on every spot of skin. With his hands bound however, he had no choice but to let his nose guide him again, this time to her asshole.

From this position, Rumble would have had a fine view of her smooth back if it wasn't still covered in her jean jacket. Tristana did the heavy lifting for the sake of the cannon she hauled around. Her upper back was tight with muscle. The choice of career and fitness maneuvers left her figure divided into two halves. The upper half was beautiful in the way it was resilient. Though they might not have said it, most women who saw her change in the locker rooms were struck with a feeling of protection. A strong back like hers promised defense and dependability. Among her corps, she was especially reliable, and her powerful body matched her go-get-em attitude. Her bottom half was nearly ironic. Her legs were strong, but focusing on her arms and back caused her big butt to stay a perfect mix of firm and squishy. Those folding ridges ended just above the curvature of her hips where they widened significantly. That figure resembled an hourglass which was angular upwards and round downwards. Rumble was very appreciate of it, and he likened her ass to a painting. Rumble visited museums sometimes to look for inspiration since he was fond of making freeform art with junk he scrapped for machinery. Those especially big paintings were even larger compared to a Yordle, and their majesty absorbed the viewers attention. They were so wide at times that he felt he could step into them. That;s what her ass was like to him. It eclipsed him. Additionally, the lovely back which looked like a bridge from his position made her snowy locks look like a waterfall. Hair colors unnatural to humans were common in the already varied morphology of Yordles. Several awesome traits were already listed above, but her hair was actually one of the most incredible. It stopped at her shoulders in a curve like a flowing wave that bent without crashing after the fall from above. Compared to someone who had only seen a white wig, the natural quality of the collective strands were otherworldly. She was tomboyish in ways, and sensitive in others. This dichotomy was reflected in the split between the hardness and softness of her body.

The locations on the body were close, but her hole and sack had two distinct smells. Tristana's crotch and balls had that special something that made a person dizzy and their dicks erect, but the smell of her ass was lighter by comparison. It was mostly like sweat and skin, but the faint traces of excrement influenced the scent making it indistinguishable from ass in the best way possible. Rumble's eyes were poised for diving in. Trist facilitated his entry. She firmly placed her small hands and pointed fingers at the center of her bottom, stretching the flesh wide to reveal her hole. Her sharp, animalistic nails pressed into her skin making the ocean-blue tone of her skin look a shade lighter. Contrasting with her low blue skin tone, her asshole was the color of lavender rendered an impure mixture of color because of the unshaven white hair left behind. Her hole was spread wide, and the tight closure expanded outward. The stretching skin wanted to close, but Trist held the dark pinkish-purple taint open. Rumble could see as far as he would ever be able to just then. Tristana's spread flesh resembled an elliptical spiral galaxy the way it twisted with the taut crevices of skin. It was sexy the way a galaxy wasn't, but its aspects were closer to that of a Black hole for Rumble because it was a hole no dicks or tongues could escape from. Trist turned her head to the right. One golden pupil, the same dull yellow as her cute ear piercing was in the darkness of the afternoon sun cut short by Rumble's thick curtains. If they were closer to the shard of light that penetrated the bit of exposed window, Tristana's piercing would have glinted in the light. The eye pierced him, and she spoke.

"What'cha waitin' for little guy?"

Rumble stuck his nose into her asshole and breathed the best he could. What a shame a mammal's nose couldn't take in scents while fully blocked. He wanted to push deeper in her, as deep as he could, but one could only go so far. He pushed like a nose could penetrate her before drawing back with lungs full of her. All the absorbed air of sex fell out his mouth in a deep exhalation, and along with it emptied a lascivious moan that sounded like he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten and was digging into a meal. He could only sustain this action a couple more times while Trist held herself as wide as she could. Of course, she didn't need to do it, she only did so to focus on the feeling of Rumble's nose prodding at her the closest he could. Her precum drained a tad faster when she felt how much pressure he hopelessly applied. Trist released her grip, letting her cheeks swallow Rumble. Now he was free to fold her buns as he pleased. He kneaded, pressed, and squished with hungry delight as his nose and mouth were dragged up and down her hole. All the while shaking with his mixture of breaths and moans.

Then he spread her as far as he could. Then he opened his maw as high as it could go and stuck his tongue in. Rigorous perspiration fermented a concentrated perfume that sank everywhere into Tristana's skin. Rumble immersed himself in it. Desire moved through and fought with muscle. Why couldn't he just melt into her as one? It's far too convenient, so he wrestles inside her trying to divide her as he looks for more to taste. The fruit of connection only partially is realized. In the back of Rumble's mind, he wonders too why Tristana can't love him. He ignores it, pushing forward, mouth gaping. Breathing becomes bestial, cycling as wet moans and gasps. Saliva ceaselessly drops to the floor because he won't take his tongue out until he feels everything.

"Oh shit…" Tristana murmured.

The little worm spreading her open expelled sweet tones from the little woman. Her pointed toes curled, and both her lips curled inward as well. The deep sensation of tight skin that rests comfortably in the exit route of Tristana's rear end coils around Rumble's tongue just as he prods in her. The flavor of ass drives Rumble wild, and his pulsing dick wants to cum, but he'd save his second shot for the next step of their exchange. Reluctantly, Rumble draws his tongue back and admires his work. The lavender spread has a pretty shadow where light ceases to illuminate her lightly opened insides. Drool painted her ass like a glaze. Rumble's eyes were entranced at the sight, staring unshakably for a few moments while he smeared her taste around the inside of his mouth. If this were a different world, Rumble might be prepared to stick his dick in her, emptying his mind save for the primal adoration of lovemaking. But in this world, he had other duties. Trist got up and rubbed her knees. The pleasure kept her awareness of the pressure on them at bay. Now facing Rumble, she plopped her ass on the blue couch she laid on a bit ago. Legs spread, arms rested along top the pillow cushions behind her, the might poll she wielded stood straight as a rod. The self-assured smirk she wore was partially broken by the need to take generous breaths. Rumble's rimming mastery was truly great, and she almost came. Definitely would have had she touched her cock during the exposure. One long strand of saliva down the back end of Tristana's cock belonged to Rumble which streamed down the spongy muscles below her asshole and down to her head. The rest of the liquid covering it was her precum. It strongly flowed, spilling along her length as it awaited Rumble's aid. The frequency and quantity of clear drool was like a sugary rain, and Trist rubbed the stuff along the rest of her pole as she pumped the shifting skin.

Rumble was watching a heavenly scene. The way the skin bunched up with each stroke of the shaft reminded him of his second favorite part. Atop her member, the skin hung low, looking like the pistil of some alien lily. This was where Rumble usually got up and did an about-face so Trist could take the bindings around his hands off. He needed both of them to jerk her off, and Trist was gracious to let them free. Grabbing a stray cushion beside her, the powerful and sexy gunner let it flop onto the floor by Rumble's feet, and he gladly laid it below his knees because he'd need the cushion for the time he planned to spend worshiping her cock. Since it was so big, Rumble had to stand on his knees and tilt the monster over. Without delay he did so expectedly and draped his flooding cavern of a mouth of her sheathed glans.

"Come on, I've got a cannonball loaded, make me fire Rumble" she whispered alluringly.

Her demand knocked the remaining reason Rumble accumulated over the time between eating her ass and putting her meat in his mouth. He wasted no time slobbering vigorously up and down. Rumble was an experienced man, and kept at it even as his throat grumbled with harsh noises. With both hands on either side Rumble rubbed and twisted her length trying to push the semen out her balls. For six seconds he bobbed on her head, and for five he took the whole nine inches down his throat, holding her whole throbbing beast inside like a flask containing violently boiling water. Tristana was actually quick to burst and Rumble gave her calculated breaks between throating and jerking lasting only several seconds before he impaled himself on her again. His nose ran, bubbled, and his eyes moistened with tears. They were only secondary effects though; Rumble wouldn't stop even if Trist asked him to. Tristana couldn't hold a smile; a tight grimace was plastered like a mask on her face. The pleasure was so great that her expression and moans were indistinguishable from pained ones. The boiling water engulfing her whole body was about to shatter the vessel. She tried keeping it in to no avail. After the fourth time Rumble took her whole length in his wet throat she erupted. Her full, ridged balls throbbed fiercely. Hot veins along her balls and rod activated sending searing semen to the tip and Tristana roared like a lion as she took Rumble's furry head in her hands and bucked her hips recklessly.

A champion of sucking, Rumble took the beating well, relishing the way her hard cock took up all the space in him, the way her beating baby makers slapped his chin. It was all so fulfilling. Rumble pulled his mouth from Tristana's cock like he was taking a sword out its container. The sword he tried to polish so well was absolutely drenched in fluids. Only a little white dribbled from the drooping end of her foreskin. Rumble finally got to see that special sight Teemo dreamed about. Tristana's chest heaved with heavy air, her head reclining in ecstasy on the couch cushions. She tried to enunciate that she wanted him to give her some time before continuing, but Rumble could not wait under any circumstances, especially now that the Bandle gunner's dominant façade melted away completely. He pulled the skin of her hood open carefully. His little pink dick pulsated while he took in the sight of all that thick, boiling jizz bubbling in her folds like a hot spring. He first took a deep breath, then dove in and swallowed the stuff like it was a delicious pudding. Bits of semen clung to his jaw, but he didn't notice while he lapped away efficiently at any bit left behind. The legendary beast was tamed. Tristana's cock bent limply like a dizzied hydra head.

"Rumble… wait… I need to- rest…" The drained woman protested.

But without the ability to resist, Rumble took full control. Whatever power Trist could muster was soon to be drained a second time. The Bandle gunner lay defenseless. On top the thickness of her thighs was a fine sheen. Beads of liquid the color of her skin flowed down the wide slopes of her figure and stained the cushions below her. She hadn't even begun to work up a sweat, the pooling wet spots accumulated just from the heat of pleasure. There was a fireball inside them both. Rumble's stayed strong despite his orgasms because the only thing that would cool him down was a punishing pummeling in the butt. For Tristana, the relationship her body had with sex was very similar to her own personality and occupation. Quick to excite, and quick to fire. In a real battle she loaded and fired with great dexterity. When a hot mouth was wrapped around her cock it was like loading one huge cannonball in a giant cannon. In this way, Rumble could accomplish a feat well beyond his means. Without his second body, his mech, he managed to carry a steel ball of several hundred pounds into the heaping girl-meat. It was a hefty glass contraption, and Rumble was in the loading phase preparing her for the next shot. As her quivering hands reached for Rumble's head, he peeled down her foreskin fully. It was much darker in comparison to the lavender jewel of her glans. The head was big, spongy, and wide-brimmed. Nothing about this woman was modest except her breasts.

"Wait… Ru-!"

Trist cried out as she seized up when the furry little guy finally got ready for his second meal and took the mushroom into his mouth sucking hard. Not ready yet, the intense suction was more like a machine to Trist; one of those transparent vacuums you attach to someone bound to make sure there's no rest after they came. Tristana's hands, just reaching the edges of Rumble's fur froze up and fell at her side. There was nothing for her to do but shiver in place at the fierce techniques. Rumble placed two hands firmly around the great spear, holding it in place so he could most efficiently shove it violently down his throat. Like before, without gagging, Rumble could intimately understand the motion he loved so much. A trembling dick filling him up was what he enjoyed most. Rumble was the type to work with his hands. His body definitely remembered the many times he was impaled by huge cocks, but there wasn't one he could remember as well as Tristana's. It was huge, but not the biggest. Rumble had to imagine that the primary reason he craved hers so much was because he was in love. Every time he took her inside and tried to strangle her with his insides he hoped that the feverish desire to pleasure her he held inside would make her love him. Maybe he did get a little closer every time, just maybe. Each of the breathy moans sounded like Tristana resisted. If she had the strength, maybe she would pull away and demand a break. Without that option, the satisfaction she felt was on par with torture.

Used to the cycle, Rumble knew she was going to come in the next ten or so seconds and sped it up by jerking her with both hands while attacking only the glans. He lashed with his tongue like a wet whip. Unlike last time, he brought her to the edge, then drew back leaving her exposed, drooling glory in the air. Holding off for just a couple of seconds had a profound impact. Rumble had half a mind to repeatedly edge her. One time before he did and it brought Trist to tears. Unfortunately, she forbid Rumble from doing that again. He could only pull this move once, sitting back, he watched her moist eyes. Rumble's gaze was like a chain drawing her in and binding the beautiful, subjugated woman to his will. Tristana's shallow breaths were pitiful and tremulous. If he had his way, Rumble would marry her and bring her to the heavens every night. Then, without breaking the hold of eyes, in one swift motion Rumble took her in his mouth again jerking and sucking at hard he could on her glans. The miniscule strength Tristana had left to control her own body succeeded only in looking for ground to gain leverage with. It was too intense, nothing but frenzied moans in wild patterns and cadences no one would expect a woman like her to make spilled from her mouth like water. Rumble felt like an important person, a loved person, being the one allowed to draw sounds like those from the Bandle gunner. Then it hit her. Balls tensing up tighter than before, a hot torrent of semen blew like a geyser filling up Rumble's mouth. It was like the earth had connected fully with Tristana's body and found each aspect of its element within her. Having linked together so fully, it resonated with divine strength, rumbling everything to completion and finishing with a lightning strike to her nervous system. Accompanying that syzygy of elements were Tristana's moans which changed to gasps during the metamorphosis and concluded with her eyes rolling back as all sounds ceased with a heart frozen with electricity.

Someone working this hard deserved their prize, and Rumble certainly earned it. A woman as beautiful as Trist left a spasming mess from his touch, and a mouth full of her jizz, it was the closest thing one could obtain to a dream come true. The taste of semen wasn't especially good, but the flavor unique to Tristana added to the drunkenness of joy and sex made it taste like ice cream as far as Rumble was concerned. Somehow Rumble managed to catch all of her batter. His mouth couldn't be more full, but he was well practiced and could swallow with the back of his throat. Rumble felt the thick stuff slide down his esophagus and made a satisfying sigh. Left a sopping mess before him, Rumble lovingly observed Trist before trying to get her attention.

"Hey love, ready to rearrange my guts?"

"…"

Did she not hear him? Or was she unable to respond? Rumble didn't care. After another ten minutes of silence Rumble thought she might have passed out. In fact, she had. Thinking it was a victory, Rumble got off his sore knees and turned around. Sometimes their meetings ended with Trist tapped out like this, unable to recover well enough to pummel him. This time maybe it was that he didn't head to his bathroom quickly enough to shower, because this time he heard something unusual. It was the one thing he feared hearing and fled at the mere prospect, a romance novel trope like talking in one's sleep. That is precisely what occurred. Before he could move elsewhere within the confines of his own home, Tristana murmured: "Teemo… I…" After all those years had passed, and all the time Rumble spent as her relief and conversation partner, he was still just second to Bandle City's other mascot. By the time she woke up, Trist found herself laying on her side with a green, stuffy blanket covering her. It was the one she usually woke up in when their exchanges ended that way. Tristana couldn't see how Rumble could sleep in that thing. She felt like she slept in her own sweat. Rumble wasn't in her field of view. She couldn't deny the attachment she held for him. Something about his lack of presence was distinct, and it made her brows furrow and mouth frown. A pair of underwear, shirt, and shorts she left one time before in a previous meeting of theirs sat folded by the side of the couch. She slipped them on and took a detour to the other rooms in the little house. Tristana looked outside the space Rumble could usually be found in the kitchen or backyard. She peered through the mesh screen at the back door and the familiar sight of his tinkering form, concentrated on his special skill was absent.

Tristana could not shake the feeling that something was about to die. Rumble usually sauntered in with a familiar, goofy smile bringing beer, eggs, and toast or the like. Not this time. Sure enough, she approached the front door thinking that maybe he just left to do something. It happened, rare as it was, it happened. Feeling the rough sounds on the carpeted floor beneath her feet as she exited, the door was falling behind her. That must be the last time she'll have the experience of the door closing like that, shutting her off from Rumble's world. But the last sense of familiarity did not arrive because the door did not announce its closing. Something stopped it. Tristana was almost relieved, and she turned to see Rumble standing there looking at her decisively. His eyes were those of someone who was ready to cut out a chain that has been tying them down. That's how it looked, anyway. In reality it's something Rumble wished he never had to do. Did a love that festered become tainted? Did it become cancerous? It's subjective. For him, an unrequited love was almost acceptable. Almost. It weighed on him heavily, near the point that his heart would quietly drown. Rumble, like the rest of Bandle City's mascots, was strong, physically, and mentally. He would persevere and live to find a love that created more than it destroyed, but that time was far away. Tristana would succeed, and very soon. Her pain and Rumble's were both riven deeply in mire and stone. Somewhere inside Rumble knew he would always lose, but his selfish desires mixed with a true love just couldn't leave Tristana alone when she wanted relief.

"Rumble… I-"

He shook his head while standing in the doorway leaning against the side like Trist herself often did.

"I heard what you said. In your sleep. You said… Teemo's name. So I'm facing it now. It can't go on this way anymore. See you later Trist" he voiced resolutely.

His gaze was as firm as it was watery. Before Tristana could have time to make painful and, indeed, cloying defenses, Rumble reached into his heart. That heart was over half sunken in mud on the lake floor. He reached around the soft, cold, and faintly beating think and jerked it out at the same time he said Teemo's name. That was his first step, saying the name of the one who kept them apart. Almost choking on his own regret he said it, before delivering the last line before the water inside was squeezed reflexively into reality. It took a firm will to break the wilting ties between hearts, and in a way, Rumble was being compassionate. Tristana was not efficient with romance and affairs of the heart. If she tried to say anything more, she'd trip over herself and say something stupid. Trist wasn't all bravado of course, she truly is kind, but for a time like this, Rumble wasn't going to let her flail until they were both a mess of emotion. Rumble was too kind because Trist walked away without even the risk of shedding tears. She didn't even have to admit to Rumble's face how much she used him. Maybe in the future, maybe never, she would have to carry the burden alone, but not for long. As she walked down the street of Bandle city, the homely woods of the houses, their fine windows and multicolored glass structures failed to register as beautiful and gleaming to her. In the calm of morning sunlight, a deep gloom hung over her.

She walked dimly to her house ignoring the eyes of any friends or acquaintances. She looked miserable and everyone could tell. Making it to the house, she collapsed on the bed, falling limply. Softly, her hands wrapped the covers she laid on top of around her as much as possible and gripped a pillow to sink her face into. Her black nails dug into the squishy fabric, but tears did not come. She wallowed only for so long before going to try and wash away the sensations in the shower. The warm water and birch soap washed out the scents of shame associated with Rumble's home. Water only did so much for memories. Tristana tried to imagine that the water running down her face would serve as tears. "Rumble deserves that much, at least…" she thought. With a fresh body and a soaked mind, exited the warm wooden shades of her home and walked absentmindedly through the forest taking the quickest path to avoid any sympathetic eyes for the sake of grieving alone for longer. The gloom was much heavier in the sylvan path. The slow journey down the walking path, which was lit with shadows strewn about by the happy sun, looked like a dreaded thicket to Tristana. A tangle of emotions between the two men she had any sort of love for over the years. Both were gone now. She ruminated on the idea of how miserable it would be to die a calm, undisturbed death in a forest like this. It was ideal for a lot of Bandle citizens, but not for her. Hers had to be explosive. Blowing herself up just wouldn't do. If she was going to go out that way, it would be for her fellow soldiers, taking down at least one Noxian zealot. What a boring pain this was. "What uneventful and boring suffering love is," she thought. It probably would have been much better to run there and start banging out exercise reps or stop by the gym and take on some ripped, repeated winner in the ring of honor and get her lights punched out.

But no, she just let the invisible vines wrap around her, constricting and tearing into skin with their thorns. That's what it was like for her, being wrapped and restrained, covered in cuts, itches all over you can't reach. Despite the lovely sunlight and crowns of trees above whose sundry boughs interconnected into some veritable examples of interconnectedness or portrait of worlds just beyond, Tristana marched to the spot she and Teemo used to meet. She lay down on the gnarled surface of the huge log they always sat on together and waited. Waited for something, or nothing. By that time, Teemo had found her. In the way he always did, he could work his way next to her without notice. Tristana is a realist, more so than Teemo. Even so, when he appeared beside her, her heart was quiet in its suffering. She didn't expect Teemo to really be there. She was unmoved because she sighed internally at the idea that her torment was so unpleasant that visages of her lost love were appearing before her own eyes. She looked directly at him and sighed audibly. Who cared what she did right now, it might as well be a dream. She considered whether this was a dream or a nightmare. A waking dream? A waking terror? Was there any difference? If you asked, Tristana would tell you that any quality of a dream becoming reality was unpleasant. She didn't live in a dreamy world, she lived in a world with explosive reality, with booming fun. That's what she used to tell herself anyway. The pain of denial she endured started to blur the lines, and for the first time all those years ago, she felt unsure about something. Like then, and like now, she was unsure. No need to pink a cheek or flip a coin to decide, this Teemo was an apparition. Her demure expression sank further into a frown as Teemo gazed into her eyes resolutely and took her hand in his as he did in Tristana's dreams.

"I don't wanna do this, but I'd let you, it's what I want right? It's how it always goes in my dreams. Even now, I'm still dreaming about you huh?"

She sighed deeply again and made a bittersweet smile. When Tristana's heart was reflected in a mirror, Teemo came to the surface in these woods. The sad smile was ephemeral, and It was beautiful in the way only sorrow can be. Frail pieces of sunshine glinted on her gold earring and in her eyes. Teemo responded in kind, giving a smile weighted with harrowing consequences. His eyes didn't open often, but they did now. For a moment, when the light shined in his own eyes, Tristana's face shifted in grieving surprise, lids rising slightly. When was the last time she saw his eyes like this? Teemo had woken up from his dreams. He saw the recesses of his desires at last, and took control of them. Though he is poor with people, he is still perceptive, and the two traits made a handshake, meeting, and telling him what he needed to say. A fresh, cool breeze carried Tristana's stray, snowy locks to the side gently, and Teemo spoke words that would only appear in a novel.

"This isn't a dream Trist" he whispered.

Tristana's eyes widened in fear and embarrassment. "Real! He's real!" she panicked. She tried to pull away but Teemo held her hand tightly. For what possible reason could he be here? Her face contorted in worry.

"Wha- What do you want?" she cried.

"I came to make things right… I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm sorry for what I did. I rejected my closest friend. I-"

Of course, dreams were not reality. Even if you held a wish in your heart for the past to change, it would never change. Anyone would be surprised beyond belief. Anyone who knew Tristana would be surprised to see her so viscerally vulnerable. The tough, fun, aggressive woman who took charge was nowhere to be found here. Trist pulled away repeatedly to the point that she was half standing, almost using the log as leverage to rip free, but Teemo didn't budge. Unable to look at him, Tristana's thoughts of the impossible past and truth were racing in her head, leaving hot tracks in her brain.

"Let me go Teemo! Let me Go! Let me go!" she yelled pathetically.

"NO, I won't let you go this time. I need you."

"Let me…"

Her voice died off like a ripple in water as she fell back on her bottom, sweating hand still in Teemo's grip. If she wanted to, Trist would have ripped it free and run. She couldn't, not anymore. It wasn't wrong to say that she's been waiting for something like this the whole time. The shame was still hurting, so much that she wanted to break down in tears and run, but she couldn't. Her true desire kept her there with the tears breaking down her lashes. Knowing she couldn't escape, knowing she had to face what she had been running away from, made her sob. Tristana shielded her face with her other arm. It hid her face, but not the sounds of weeping. Teemo continued.

"I'm terrible. I'm so awful for what I did. Right after I left you, it already hit me. Being bad with people is no excuse. I changed. Saw what was really important. It took until I nearly died to see it. If my… heart is a jungle, then you're the soil… Trist… I need you."

Unable to socialize before, Teemo's newfound resolution came as a shock to Tristana. He went from speaking matter-of-factly about whatever seemed to be floating in his head as if it were a secret to proclaiming declarations of love without any tact. Teemo didn't think in metaphors, he just lived them. On the spot, he tried to articulate something that sounded romantic to make sure he got through to her. Trist, so used to his silence, understood how much it must have meant for him to verbalize the only thing he knew as solid and unchanging. Tristana, ever familiar with acting, found that statement so honest as to be dumb. Dumb with a charm of its own. It was new, and unfamiliar, and Tristana felt that it was like him at its core. Teemo definitely wasn't an actor, of that much, she was sure. There were a lot of things she could say, but she chose what said the most with the fewer words.

"What took you so long…"

Face still hidden; Tristana spoke those words. Her choked voice cracked with a laugh, then a big sniffle, and a breathy inhalation, the kind one only makes when they cried fully.

"I missed out on too much being apart from you. Trist… I want to make it right. Right now" Teemo declared.

Teemo took his customary scouting hat off, then slid his shirt off the bushy fur of his upper body. The words nearly dislodged the stone that was Tristana's arm from her face. It was held firm like a statue, and the edified pain of her heart was becoming restored to the living pain of blood. She was almost there. Almost ready to show the flushed face of someone who cried a pain long dwelling within, but it hung there for a little longer. As her head hung down, the silence became more awkward now that friction was being made between Teemo and his clothes. Tristana missed what the sounds were supposed to mean. Quiet as can be, with only rubbing clothes speaking, Teemo had taken his shorts off too. Like Tristana, his underwear was green, and flexible.

"Trist… Look at me…" he whispered poignantly.

Her arm lowered. Sunlight glittered sparingly on the moistness of her lashes. Then her eyes widened again upon seeing someone she'd never seen. It's like not Teemo avoided his nakedness in the past, he didn't exactly care if people saw him, people were foreign to him then. Now his chest, stoked with the flames of love, was pumping slowly. She couldn't see it, but Teemo was blushing beneath his cream colored fur.

"Wha- r-right now? Here!?" she cracked.

"I have to show you that I'm ready Trist."

Teemo crawled forward toward Tristana's fully clothes body.

"W-wait…" she hushed.

Teemo had let go of her hand earlier because he knew she wouldn't run away either. It just seemed too good to be true. A speck of indecision still clung inside Trist. A pebble, just the right size to block an artery, kept her heart from being completely free. Blushing a deepening purple, Tristana was raising her arm to guard her face again, and looked away to the left. Teemo was going to start taking her shirt off. She blocked her face, but not her body. Not expecting company after leaving her home to wallow, Tristana was only wearing a thin camouflage patterned shirt, thin enough that her hardened nipples showed through. The stubby claws of Teemo's paws were grazing up her pants, and he felt her growing erection but just passed it to grip the hem of her shirt. The near noiseless friction of her own fabric was silent compared to her heart pumping. But at the moment it was akin to a bomb, a pressurized one. With the pebble in place, it would erupt. Tristana put her arms out as if in a skirmish. She was too nervous, but Teemo was ready to bring the severed strings of their fates together with a magic inherent in words everyone had to hear for themselves.

"Tristana. I love you. Let's be together for as long as we live" Teemo waxed.

Without emptied his heart of remaining doubt without hindrance. The pebble was suddenly disintegrated into Tristana's bloodstream, and she finally looked into Teemo's eyes.

"I believe you… take is slow okay?"

Her lips were pursed, cheeks deep purple in embarrassment. Ready for destiny to be fulfilled, she sheepishly raised her arms up so Teemo could free her torso. Then she unbuttoned the front of her pants and Teemo removed them tactfully, freeing her plump thighs and butt from their bindings. Clad only in undergarments, Teemo lowered his head and grasped her olive green panties.

"Teemo wait!" she urged.

Teemo halted, looking at her expectandly. He was rearing to start sucking her off, but that was hardly the omst romantic option right off the bat. Romance was something he'd get used to. For now, his honesty and forthcomingness was enough.

"H-hug me first" she whispered.

Teemo's keen hearing picked up on her timid words, and went to lower his weight onto her. Trist laid back onto the rough log. The ridges of the bark were a little uncomfortable, but it didn't matter. Teemo's chin was buried in her shoulder. They were about the same size, so their clothed dicks were rubbing eachother unintentionally. The desire was brewing, but before that could be released, Tristana soaked in Teemo's newfound resolution. They clung to each other for a long time like that, listening to the familiar bird chirps and shaking leaves on the sweet summer breezes. Arms wrapped around each other; Tristana started weeping softly. Tears of joy welled up in her eyes as the bear truth of their bodies were revealed to each other. The barriers worn on their bodies everyday were stripped off. They were almost as close as they could possibly be. Laying quietly, the songs of divine beauty were spiraling in their fated patterns all along the skies. The chorus was joined with their heartbeats to set its tone, and their steady body rhythms ebbed and flowed as they repositioned a leg and arm or nuzzled each other. Tristana lifted his head up to face her by his cheeks and watched his eyes for a careful minute. Over the course of sixty seconds, their lips drew closer until meeting. Their kiss was like rain on dry earth, a bird's breath, a bee's bumbling, a blossom's fragrance. Separating for a fleeting moment, Trist gazed into Teemo's being with total honesty, so earnest that the tears were flowing again. She wanted to say "you don't know how long I was waiting for this," but their bodies said enough. The cycle continued. They snuggled and kissed tenderly, bodies rising in temperature. They kept repositioning when needed, even more so now that their erections were full. It wasn't so much repositioning now than rubbing. The hot sun was reflected in their love. They couldn't help but kiss more feverishly, tongues intertwining as their cocks throbbed against one another in their prisons. Eventually they couldn't take it anymore. Tristana was too shy to say it herself, the dominant persona she built didn't function in front of her love like this. Teemo pulled away and knew by the pulses of her breaths that she was ready to move on. He picked himself up, missing the texture of Tristana's skin sorely, but it was required to take his underwear off. His cute 3 incher came out. The red tip was tantalizing. But Tristana was first.

Unlike his underwear, Tristana's was more restrictive, and her big cock strained in its bindings. Teemo leaned over so his face was near her crotch. He slowly lowered the barrier keeping him from his prize. Her white pubic hair showed first, and the tower of flesh sheathed in skin was next. Teemo pulled her cock up with the fabric so that the whole rod would flop over. If Tristana was standing up, and Teemo were at her knees instead, the huge thing would smack Teemo in the face so rigid it was. In their position it smacked against her belly, then hovered a few inches above her skin. It was more beautiful than Teemo dreamed of. The foreskin so long… Teemo hardly waited to bury his face in her crotch and huffed her scent. Tristana had no idea he'd really embrace her like this, and the zeal with which he drank her musk made her even harder. If there was a single downside to a moment like this, it's that Tristana's balls didn't have time to stew for very long in the heat. Now that their crotches had become well acquainted with themselves, their scents were nice and mixed. The smell of familiarity was beautiful, as was the intoxication of divinity. Trist watched Teemo huff til he was lightheaded, her cock getting so firm it was rising higher above her belly. Eyes lulling peacefully, Tristana thought he'd pass out there, but Teemo dragged his head up. Those enchanted eyes were chained to the pole. Gripping it with both hands, his whole mind appraised the powerful meat that soon would penetrate him. Finally, the real fun could start. Slowly, Teemo closed his eyes to collect himself, then he planted a kiss on her sheathed glans. Then another, and another. Deliberate kisses, the soft force of Teemo's lips pushed her meat a tad, but it was paltry compared to how hard Trist pulsated.

Tristana was already leaking, and the valves on her sweet fluids were loosening more and more. Even at the point of becoming a faucet, the clear pre-cum was caught in her generous foreskin. Knowing this, Teemo got her nice and wet before sucking the moist excess at the tip of her cock. Her skin is warm, and the heat of her crown radiates out. Teemo felt it on his lips and cheeks. He took his time admiring how the coloration of the hanging flesh was darker than the rest, then he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. Like kisses, he wrapped his lips gently about her foreskin, and pulled it back with suction, letting it fall to the side. Multiple times he repeated it. Teemo tested the waters by feeling her throbs to see how close she was. When Trist was going to blow, he backed off. This was a dream come true for both, however, Teemo was prepared to please her. Tristana may be used to the treatment, but at Teemo's hands, it was too much, and her moans escalated. Tristana was propped up on her palms before, and now she laid flat on the log, too weak to hold herself up. She badly wanted to watch Teemo take care of her but could not, instead watching the dizzying array of light and bough overhead mixed with resting her eyes and focusing purely on the physical sensations. Moving forward, Teemo sucked her head lightly through her sheath for a little, and then released her so he could open her wide stretching skin from the very end. There was so much skin that the shadow of Teemo's face obscured the space inside. It looked like a little water well, complete with its own liquid on the soft pink soil at the bottom. Teemo knew the inside would be delicious and stuck his nose in it, wrapping the skin around his nose liked a sealed bag filled with her fragrant spices. Tristana couldn't see, but Teemo's cute little cock was drooling excessively now, and he started jerking himself slowly with one hand.

"Teemo, wait, I wanna help" Trist spoke up.

Feeling sorry at the interruption, Teemo complied, and they changed positions. Now their crotches were in each other's faces. Teemo took no time in sucking up the drool pooled inside her foreskin and having drank that elixir, he set upon gathering the purer stock in her balls by rotating his tongue around Tristana's squishy glans beneath the skin. Tristana, on the other end, suppressed her moans by putting Teemo's cute cock in her mouth. She was elated and ecstatic at the union of tongues, but not only did she love the action itself, she was amazed at how much he leaked. It was like sucking a lollipop, she kept drinking down his fluid like it was her saliva on a confectionery treat. Were it not for the hole being plugged, Tristana's moans would have exited her mouth as pathetic whimpers. It took all her strength to push through the rising pleasure and blow Teemo's erection until he came in her mouth. There was less of the thick cream than Tristana anticipated, though she happily swirled it around her mouth with her tongue to spread the taste and texture to each corner of her mouth before swallowing. The only thing as good as his semen was how his furry legs quivered and slumped over. He didn't even have the energy to relieve his mouth of her cock, he just fell onto it, taking the whole 9 inches down his throat. Trist didn't want him coming alone. Teemo already picked up on it and reluctantly sped up the process, lowering the sheath on Tristana's jeweled sword. He admired her shimmering, saliva-caked tip for a fleeting few seconds before plunging on it. He sucked her glans hard while pumping the excessive amount of skin further down her shaft taking less than five seconds to make her explode. The ejaculation was accompanied by a sound somewhere between a roar and a yell, it was the kind of sound she'd make when straining on the last pushup in a breakless set of 50. With little to grab onto, Trist wrapped her arms around Teemo's hips and held them down as she came in his mouth.

Just like in his dream, and just like the blue demon he practiced with, Teemo experienced the full brunt of just how much Tristana let out. Luckily, the training was excellent, and he kept pumping her shaft, sucking her head, and swallowing viscous semen rhythmically. Tristana probably released about a pint or so of batter and Teemo chugged it like a newfound pro. Trist convulsed beneath Teemo's weight, which was enough to hold her spasms down. Her dick was held firmly in place by Teemo's small hands to make sure he milked her fully. Maybe another day he'd get to see her burst without interference. For now, he didn't want to waste a drop. Basking in the light of pleasure, Tristana's hair began clinging to the edges of her face. Sweat was making a thin sheen on her belly and beneath her neck. Stuck so close together, Tristana's nose was acquainted with Teemo's furry little balls that rested on her face moments ago. Teemo's shrunken dick was connected to a thin trail of cum and saliva to Trist's mouth. As the two lay in mutual ecstasy. Teemo was rearing to go while Trist lost focus, vision hazy. The canopy above her eyes was a mix of green and yellow as the remaining signals of pleasure were reaching the tips of her nerves at every end of her body leaving tingling feelings. Teemo forgot to consider that he might be a little heavy, but Trist didn't mind. That was okay because he swapped places back to how they started. He was going to restore her glory so his being could be filled fully.

"Teemo… Oh my god. Fuck… that was…" she heaved.

Teemo didn't need to express it in words. He wanted to say: "We aren't done yet my love," but he was just too excited to get back to work and stayed silent. Being quiet was his preference after all. She was hard at the start of the encounter, so now was Teemo's time to suck on the flaccid, caterpillar version of her depleted dick and bring her back for round two. He got to feel the second milestone of their lovemaking, feeling her grow in his mouth. It's one of the best experiences, knowing with mind and body just what reaction you elicit in your partner. So he sucked away.

"Teemo, w-wait, I don't think I can make it" she sighed.

So far it was almost true. In most sexual encounters Tristana only lasted one blow, she just did her exhaustion well. Previously, Rumble's blowjob skills were just so powerful that she fell unconscious, a feat few could achieve with her. The only reason she didn't fall out now was that love changed the situation. Tristana and Teemo's bodies were meant to be together, so Trist could stay conscious to feel every ounce of pleasure Teemo could provide and vice versa. Similarly, the energy made it so that Trist could recover far more quickly and go another round, maybe even more. The signs were already showing. Seconds ago, Trist was in a stupor, but now the radiant colors around her were dazzling again, and her focus returned. She was keenly aware of her virility building, and the blood revitalizing her erection. In a different situation, it might feel unnatural, but since they were together, it was wonderful, if a little scary. Trist had enough strength to endure Teemo's service and picked herself back up on her palms to see his face. On the inside, Trist thought "So this is the face I was missing out on…" Indeed, Teemo peered up at her with his narrow-opened eyes.

He took her cock out his mouth for a sparing duration and said "Your cock is delicious Trist…"

Then he slapped the fleshy chub against his outstretched tongue a few times before sticking it back in its warm home. Tristana got hard fast seeing his eyes connect with hers; seeing him jerk her sunken dick as he talked, seeing his tongue out so far. He was a professional dick sucker just for her. Moments later, she was at full attention, and Teemo sat proudly upright at a job well done. Tristana watched him closely for a little, thinking on the changes that have taken place.

"Where'd you learn to do this?" she asked him, still breathing deeply.

"I had a tutor. I-It's embarrassing, to say who it is… but I had to be perfect for you, to make up for it all…"

Teemo was very forthcoming but saying that showed his embarrassment. He avoided Tristana's eyes as he spoke. Tristana felt a similar, but different kind of warmth in her body which came out as a smile on her face.

"It was amazing. Ya know, if you couldn't tell haha" she giggled earnestly.

Not needing to respond, Teemo hopped off the log and gestured for Tristana to follow him, smiling as he did. It was an awkward descent, seeing as how she was so hard.

"What'd we come down here for?" she asked, a little lost.

Teemo laid on the ground on a particularly soft patch of grass and held his legs up.

"I thought you'd want padding, for the next part" he beamed.

"Are you sure?" she wavered.

Pain isn't easily forgotten, even in that moment the memories, like a brand on her mind, brought an ounce of gashing fear to her heart. Before it could influence her, whisper that she was unwanted, disgusting, being manipulated, Teemo reassured her.

"I'm sure. I need you inside me Trist, fill me up…"

It wasn't just a romantic statement; it was also a command. He needed her inside him, as one needs water. Tristana heard his resolve and responded with her name. Trist is what Teemo would always call her at the rare times he would speak. It was her name, the one only he would use to refer to her. She was more and more sure that the Teemo she'd known all that time was here for her. The two lovers separated by the cruel whims of fate, a lover exiled from heaven to earth, would unite completely here. Tristana saw how ready he was and didn't waste time. Her big dick swayed as she walked. As she got on her knees before Teemo's raised butt, it throbbed so stiffly that it didn't touch the ground. Even if no time at all needed to be spent outside his body, Trist still had to spend a few seconds hoisting his bottom up a little with her hands and admired his asshole. It was a cute, pink, pucker. Her strong fingers tipped by pointed black nails spread his hole wide easily. The hole stretched wonderfully looking like a budding flower. Tristana went against her urge to stick her tongue in and settled on giving it a generous kiss instead. It winked in response, and Trist lowered his hips down and prepared. She shifted her knees a little, unsheathed the jewel of her sword, and placed the tip as his entrance. It was like the reverse of that Demacian story about the sword in a stone that only the next king could pull out. Tristana was the queen here. Teemo was the kid, and her sword belonged buried in his hole for eternity.

Teemo's ass had taken powerful beatings before. However, the training ended not only with increased experience for lovemaking on Teemo's part, but with a magic spell the blue demon gave him which made his ass as it could be. The demon had a soft spot for love maybe. Maybe it just enhanced her fantasies she would use to masturbate to later. Maybe she was watching them at that very moment. Either way, Tristana was pushing into Teemo now. Both of their free hands were guiding Tristana's cock to the hole, and together, on opposite sides, they spread his cheeks together. Even with both of those things at play, it was hard to get in. Teemo was certainly ready to accept her, but perhaps Tristana had another lagging fragment of doubt. She had to want it. She had to want to ram it in him. Suddendly, without warning, a voice snaked its way through Tristana's big fluffy ears and right in the center of her brain. It was a cool, sultry voice, like that of a dark being hell bent on subjugating little yordle men.

"If you want it little lady, take it. Impale him with your blade."

The voice was different from her own anxieties. This was the time when they would unite, and Tristana needed one last little push.

"Teemo…" she vexed.

Tristana's brows were furrowed as she hesitated, but Teemo could read her face like he did long ago, and this time he could act on whatever face she made. Her face was saying "kiss me… please." He reached out to her face, and Trist inched into his hands, feeling her face held softly. She delved between his legs, laying against his belly and Teemo pulled her in for a kiss. She kissed him like her life depended on it, trying not to let go of that connection. It was like the shards of her calcified heart, which had dissolved into her body, were being shed again as tears. The touching of their lips was the opening of a letter giving the next wordless confirmation. As they came apart, Tristana's lips were still reaching for Teemo, but they had to remain separated if this was to continue. Teemo kept holding her smooth cheeks, and he wiped away the tears coming down her face. One last time, he kissed her, not on the lips, but on the lashes. The drops were taken into his mouth and he understood on a profound level what her sorrow tasted like.

"I'll never leave you again. I promise. If it ever does, blow me up with a cannonball first, okay?" he completed.

Tristana nodded, laughing at the same time. She wiped the remaining tears herself, then backed up, aligning her head with his hole once more. She pressed and pushed, and prodded and pushed until she could feel her head slip just past the gate. Teemo's ring massaged her glans, and she let out a swear. Then she drew her knees closer to Teemo's thighs and tightened her legs. Tristana collected her will, drew back, and slammed past his gates in one swing. The force smashed Teemo's prostate, and he came as the big cock filled nearly all the space in his body. Teemo let out a girly moan. His insides undulated beckoning Tristana to blast semen, but she needed to feel more of his body first. Her face contorted into a loving grimace, but she forced her orgasm back and started pumping. With all her strength, Trist pulled and thrust her huge cock inside him. Each thrust shook Teemo's whole body. It was so much warmer and tighter than she ever imagined. The walls of his butt were slick with Teemo's saliva which prepared her for entry, and it got wetter still with all the precum drooling out her dick inside. The passage within Teemo was like his throat, except it squeezed in wavelike motions trying to extract Tristana's cum.
If it isn't what his ass was made for, it became what it needed to be, a pit of pleasure designed to fit Tristana's shape and wring her dry. The pressure, the slickness, Teemo moaning uncontrollably as the cock rammed into him, rattling his head. It was all too much. Trist couldn't hold out any longer. The pleasure was so intense that neither could tell how much time actually passed. It was probably only thirty seconds, maybe even less. So Trist gripped Teemo's plump legs and pulled them into her as far as they could smush. Her cock dove as far as it could, reaching a height even the Ripsent plant couldn't find. Trist gritted her teeth and unloaded her fluids, the orgasm announced with another powerful roar. At the same time, the bashing in his guts made Teemo cum from his ass a second time, the semen spouting out and landing on Tristana's toned belly. Teemo saw a flash of light while Tristana's balls pulsed, giving absolutely every seed it had. Then Trist flopped onto Teemo's chest, and after recovering his senses, he made a fulfilled smile and petted her sweaty snow white hair.