#Class 399 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

noxturnalmoth · 4 months ago

Text

Under Duress

Pairing: Garen x reader (ft. Sylas)

Summary: When you fight as Demacia's top two officers, you are bound to be seen as fearsome enemies or important hostages. When you are taken by one of your nation's number one targets, you expect the usual torture, one you can withstand no matter how violent. What you don't expect is the humiliation you will be put through, and how it will leave place to mindnumbing pleasure and shift the relationship you hold with your Commander, Garen Crownguard.

Warnings: Violence, dubious consent, sadism, come eating, throat fucking, mating press, binding (with chains), slight bleeding, cunnilingus, hard dom, soft dom, degradation, praise, impact play, threats, fem reader, penetration, creampie

Word Count: 17, 399

Navigation: here

When you integrated the Dauntless Vanguard, you were young, idealistic, devoted to your nation.

And you still are.

Yet years of battle against the mage menace and Noxians have hardened you into sharp warrior. No longer the sweet young girl you once were, you saw the world as it was. Rotten, needing to be cleansed and wiped clean like a petricite slate.

It was hard at first, the rhythm relentless, no respite, no favors. But you've learned to appreciate the cadence, the harsh training that would leave you bruised, scarred and exhausted beyond belief. The classes, teaching military strategy and the horrors of war to young, bright and impressionable minds quickly engraving their lessons in your mind.

Many stayed simple soldiers, content with helping their country yet wishing to remain free of the many responsibilities of higher ranks. Which was understandable, everyone had the role they felt fit them, and all of them without exception were important to the Demacian rule. To your codes and laws, to your ideals.

But that wasn't you.

From a young age you admired your father, an esteemed Lieutenant in the Mageseeker forces, who died in a mission to protect your land from the beasts in human clothing hiding amongst those in Runeterra. And as such, you strived to become like him. Yet as you got older, you grew to appreciate the Dauntless Vanguard's proactive ways more. Not only defending your nation from scum, but also from Noxians who felt entitled to the whole world after they ruined their own land after following a madman.

So, with years of relentless training, blood, sweat and tears given to the military academy in the capital, you integrated the force. This handful of years in your life building your faith into something stronger, melting your body and forging it into a weapon worthy of being wielded for the Demacian cause. And you quickly made your name known as the best trainee in your year, a reliable force of nature whose only loyalty was her land.

No matter who you were pitted against, you would come out victorious, eyes set ablaze as a war cry ripped through your throat. They may have all left scars, but your triumph over your enemies made you wear them as badges of honor. Traces left to show your devotion to the cause.

Your fervent belief and action were what caught the eye of the then Captain Garen Crownguard and you were quickly switched to his unit. The man representing all you have ever believed Demacia to be. Honorable, righteous, just.

And beautiful.

It's not hard to fall for the charm of someone as kind and gentle as the Crownguard heir. His mannerisms, his way of speaking, his bright mind, his unbelievable strength and stature, he was like if one of the heroes' statues awakened to stand his ground against Demacia's foes. Bringing down his sword as if guided by Lady Kayle herself.

He piqued your interest just as you had piqued his. And while yours stemmed from admiration at the very beginning, it didn't take much time for it to evolve into infatuation.

He would observe you, train you as if to test you and himself, finally finding a worthy opponent to his herculean self. His voice would call out to you during meetings, asking, no, demanding you to give your opinion about tactics. He believed in you and pushed you to become the best version of yourself, day by day, through the deserts of Shurima and the tundra of the Freljord. Through days and nights. At camp, in the capital or at war. He pushed you far beyond what he did to the others.

Yet when you bled, when you suffered losses at war, when you raged and tears of frustration carved their ugly marks in your youthful face, he held you close with a gentleness that betrayed his inhuman size. One arm around you as he cared for whatever ailed you. Whether he was the cause for it or not.

And soon enough what was an unspoken mentor and pupil camaraderie became a friendship. His form seeking yours after hours to speak about the world, about the future, to laugh and drink. To be human when war could rip this away from you.

He was your rock, your anchor in the tumultuous shipwreck of life. And you were his, a reminder of what he fought for. A visionary of Demacia who held hope in their heart, strength in their body and reason in their mind. One who did not falter and would pick him back up whenever his duties became too hard on him, shouldering the burden by his side. Silently, willingly, happily. Doing anything to help the man you both idolized and adored, as a figure and as a complete part of your life. Your devotion to Demacia reflected in your friendship and in your spot at his side in the Dauntless Vanguard.

Years passed and from private you turned Sargent, from Sargent you turned into a Lieutenant, from Lieutenant to Captain. Garen taking his place as Commander within the military. His steadfast belief in the core values of your nation and his sheer power giving him the monicker of The King's Sword or even The Might of Demacia. He made you his right hand, your growth by his side reflected in the pride swirling within his eyes each time he looked at you.

There was nowhere he was that you weren't. Stuck to him at first by his order, then by the knowledge that the two of you together were unbeatable, a perfect duo. Forces to be reckoned with lest you had a death wish. You were his second set of eyes and ears, his body double, his voice when he couldn't attend, his advisor; just as he was yours. The two of you completing each other seamlessly.

The perfect partnership.

Your friendship growing beyond simple casual interactions after hours. Discussions dipping into personal matters about motivations, about the soul, about the world. Your heart bared more often than not as was his. A rawness that had terrified you at first but that you welcomed as a part of your daily life. Friendly quips grew as time passed, sometimes making their way in tactical meetings whenever the time called for it, bemused looks shared between you and Garen that no one else but the two of you would understand.

You would share touches. What began as your bodies meeting in training, simple brushes and humorous slaps on the arm evolved to include intertwined hands, joking dances away from celebrations, embraces after battles, hands brushing the other's hair back or to wipe away at a stain. His immense body dwarfing yours a thousand times over in a way that was both exhilarating and comforting.

Just as your notoriety and friendship grew, so did your infatuation. The seed of attraction softly and slowly growing into something more, something dangerous in this line of work, watered by your proximity in body and in heart with the Commander. Not only was it hard because of the prospect of one's partner dying in battle, the thought of ruining your friendship through a misplaced confession that would be rejected, but there was also the question about the ethics of dating someone hierarchically lower or higher than you are.

Not to mention he was not just a superior but the Commander of the Dauntless Vanguard. The right hand to the King. This was not simply a question of ethics but also of your standing within the army and as a soldier of Demacia opening your faith to the silent worship of something else than the code.

The wish of his strong arms encasing you in their warmth, calloused hands gripping you tight, his muscles rippling beneath your touch, his hot breath and lips against you as the limpid pools of his eyes regarded you with pride and adoration. Fantasies that ate at you at night when you found yourself by your lonesome, spurring sinful purges of the thoughts through your own release, and that scorched you whenever in his presence. The heat of devotion biting, but the coolness of his trust and care for you making the pain ebb away like the waves on the shores of Ionia lick at its dark sand, the wave shifting the dark grains like the doubt in your mind that Garen could ever love you back.

But even through your complicated feelings, and with enough mastery over yourself to hide them, you two soon became the most revered soldiers in Demacia, your people nicknaming you Kayle's Will just as they had given Garen his own names. Your might and intelligence worthy of being bestowed the name of The Protector in the eyes of your nation, your men and your King but also your best friend. Battles never once lost under your guidance, the faith in Demacia stronger than any adversary, fueling your body to keep on going no matter what.

Which is how you found yourself in this situation.

Soldiers rush forward, their shields raised as they let the petricite absorb vile magic only to slide to the side to let their companions rush in with their blades to strike the mages down.

Both sides suffered great losses, and no matter how many battles you've fought, seeing more comrades fall fueled an angry blaze within you. Despite it being your duty, their deaths will always leave a mark on you, making you fight harder than before. Garen by your side reacting the same way. Yet your minds are clear, untainted by rage, calculating every possibility and barking orders to your men as needed.

That was when you saw him, the leader of this band of mages who came from the desolate and frigid mountains of the Freljord, the man who had killed the previous king.

Sylas.

He was proud, stepping forwards as the men fighting part like the red sea. His presence magnetic, pulling you in yet rejecting you. He walked slowly, the drag of the chains trapped within the stone encasing his wrist singing a deadly melody.

And that was when your gaze returned to your Commander, his already on you.

This man had nearly killed Luxanna, Garen's younger sister, and used her to escape his execution. This man had killed your King. This man had led a revolution that killed many of those you grew up with, many of your people, innocents who were just bystanders in his mindless attack.

Your stomach dropped in anger, red seeping in your vision before the Crownguard heir's voice resounded. Somehow still impossibly loud even over the sounds of blades clashing and the arcane being used to spill more Demacian blood.

"Sylas. Under authority of the king and to avenge all of those whom you've forsaken, we will bring you down. You and your men. To avenge our people, to honor our King and to rid the world of the plague of mages."

Your glaive is readied by your side, your body lowered into its stance as your hands grip it tightly, and you slide in front of Garen. Your offensive style being more aggressive than his, you have decided years ago of a combination that can destroy the enemy, topple it over like a house of cards. And it places you first in the line of attack to shock the opponent with your violence, distracting and opening the enemy to the flurry of attacks the King's Sword and yourself would unleash upon them.

"Ah. The Commander and his guard dog. How quaint. I was wondering when you two would make time for little old me instead of dallying around the battlefield. But then again, you're in high demand, such strong and important people are bound to be called everywhere."

The man saunters over, his words smug yet biting beneath their confidence, his smirk slicing at you like a blade would. Your face sets at the nickname he utters for you, nearly spat out mockingly as his eyes set on the both of you.

"I'm honored." He bows with a flourish of his hand, steps growing heavier, the chains at his wrists rattling and trailing besides him.

"You will not speak of my Captain in such a way, Sylas." Garen all but spits, his hold over Judgment, his broadsword, tighter as he straightens. His own body readying itself behind you, towering over your form like a terrifying shadow.

"Your rebellion ends now. Give up and we'll allow some mercy on you and your men. If not, there is nothing that will stop your demise. It is fated, so give yourself some respite, mage. Unless pain is what you seek." Your voice is strong, unwavering as your stance, your hands positioning the blade of your pole arm down, drawing a literal line in the sand. A boundary.

But Sylas scoffs, stopping in front of the line you traced before him.

"Mercy? Respite? Don't make me laugh, lady. As for pain?" He steps on the line, yet doesn't cross it. "Your people have made us suffer already for long enough. We aren't afraid anymore, and we won't back down. So do your worse little soldier, Commander Crownguard, you will not win."

As soon as the tips of his toes pass the carved threshold your blade is turned up, slicing towards the man before you jump away, letting Garen begin his onslaught. You strike down at the enemy's feet, your arms unnaturally using the momentum to pivot the blade and slash upwards in a milisecond before clashing against the ground. Your very own swallow's strike, the one attack attributed to you that none in the army could copy.

You continue with quick stabs, your body sliding on the ground and behind him to slash at this Achilles' heel. Meanwhile Garen strikes with simple attacks, his speed betraying his size. Yet while Sylas gets slashed and bleeds, he shows no sign of slowing down. Whipping you with his chains, their metal wrapping around the pole of your glaive.

"Garen, switch!"

The man nods at you and you abandon your weapon before jumping aside, Garen rushing at Sylas as you take Judgment and swirl with it, using momentum to be able to strike downwards at the enemy while your comrade uses the chain wrapped around your glaive to slam him down.

"Switch!"

"Yes, sir!"

His blade returns to him while your pole is held tightly between your hands and you two strike at once.

"You two really are pissing me off." Sylas smirks, his fists swinging and his body twisting to escape and attack despite your relentlessness.

"Too damn bad." You grunt, twirling your pole as you lean back, slicing a circle in the air that nicks your opponent to his face, a little too close to his eye. "That's part our gods damned job." And with a heavy step forward you bring the blade down heavily, like the strike of a hammer coming from the heavens and splitting the ground apart into a chasm.

"You bitch." He chuckled, rushing up your weapon before catching you by the throat and flipping up and behind you, slamming you on your back.

"Sylas!" The man is sent away with a swing of a blade, Garen's gentle hand pulling you up and behind him protectively as you wheeze, your armor feeling too tight all of a sudden. The airborne suplex knocking the air out of your lungs and rattling your bones uncomfortably in such a way that you know your spine will bruise while your friend glowers to the man before you.

"What is it, my esteemed Commander?" Sylas mocks, eyes wide and lips snarling.

"Don't you dare speak of her in such a way or I'll make sure that the years you've spent wasting away in your cell feel like the best ones of your life." Garen's voice is low, threatening and filled with an aggression you've never seen in him.

Your enemy chuckles, the chortles evolving into maniacal laughter.

"So you're the guard dog, then." He states, his stature suddenly straightening. "How fun."

Blades clash once more, the man somehow keeping with the both of you.

As if all of this was premeditated.

"Garen, something's wrong." Your friend nods, his back to yours before he holds your hand and swings you in his hold. His blade, broad and strong, protects you and deflects Sylas, before you unravel from the oldest Crownguard's hold, slashing in diagonal motions before rushing forwards with your glaive held towards the adversary. But before you can stab him, you plant your blade into the ground, vaulting over him as Garen strikes.

Your own slash delivered behind Sylas, cutting through his back before you slide between his legs and back in front of him to Garen, slashing his inner thigh in the process, his body crumbling to its knees.

"Sylas what in the realms are you planning?"

"One man can't simply hold his own against the two of you, can he?" He tuts, panting heavily and twitching in pain yet remaining on his two feet. Glowering up at the two of you.

"No, he can't. Now tell us what the catch is, mage." You circle around him, eyes observing every movement, every breath.

He chuckles darkly, his eyes following you. "But where would the fun be in that, mh?"

You scoff, getting closer and pointing the end of your blade to his neck, the weapon drawing a bloody line on the skin, your hands sliding on the pole as you walk to him.

"I wouldn't try my luck."

"Right, because I'm on the ground and you're on top. I'm so threatened, darling. Quaking in my boots." He mocks as you grip his hair, pulling it to tilt his head up while you point your glaive at his chest.

Garen is behind him, observing as he snarls down at the mage. His sword drawn and pointed to the man's back.

"Why attack now? And why the burst of confidence while you're under the blades of the two strongest soldiers in Demacia?"

Sylas tuts, his look haughty even in this position.

"Answer her!"

"Oh gods, calm down mutt. Your voice is gritting, I'd much rather listen to your lady friend's dulcet tones." Your blade pierces his chest lightly, lips pulling further down and your eyebrows furrowing at the lack of respect. Your grip tightens on the pole as he disregards you while actively mentioning you to Garen.

"The lady friend is here you scum." You grit out.

"Why so angry, mh? You'd look ravishing if you weren't bitter from Demacia's poison."

"Sylas, I will say it one last time. You disrespect her again and I will make your life a living hell."

"Oh bite me, Crownguard." The man chortles again. "Your people already have. What do I have to lose? My life? Oh no, how tragic." His voice falls flat and so does his face.

"Oh trust me, you've seen nothing." Your friend snarls.

"Oh I bet I haven't, but you have, haven't you?" Sylas' eyes rake over you mischievously, smirking when Garen grips him by the jaw to snap his head up, gazes meeting.

"You're on thin ice."

"And you still haven't done anything."

You see Garen's jaw clench, his face pulled in such an expression of hate that you don't recognize the man before you. Your heart squeezing as his eyes trail to you, softening yet swirling with a maelstrom of intensity.

"Step back, Captain."

"Commander?" You question, removing your blade from it's bleeding indent in Sylas' chest and walking backwards slowly, your eyebrows lowering in confusion.

"I think it's time I teach this man some manners. If he cannot respect you, then no mercy shall be given to him."

"How sweet of you. Who knew you were such a teddy bear for a simple woman who's below you?" The enemy pouts as Garen retreats, Judgment held tightly in his hand while he raises it.

"Sylas, do me a favor and just die already." He growls, a sword of light coming down onto the mage as Garen strikes down.

"Garen don't!"

The impact forces you to plant your glaive in the ground to keep yourself from flying away, your eyes closing at the brightness of it. But soon enough it all feels wrong, you sense it, something in the air shifted.

Garen has made a major error, and you don't know what it is.

A hand grips your neck tight and you suffocate, your back hitting something hard as your hands are chained together. The chuckle is unmistakable. Sylas is behind you and he's strong, and most importantly he is untouched.

His hands clean, his lungs expanding at an unhurried pace as his chin lands on your shoulder, his face clean from blood and wounds.

Shakily, your eyes trail to the dissipating Justice of Demacia, no body laying in its wake. The only trace of something being left behind is a puddle of blood.

"Surprise~" The voice of the man whom you believed to be dead murmurs teasingly in your ear, his lips grazing it. "Did you two truly forget who I am?"

Garen stands, wide eyed and heaving, unmoving in shock before his face twists once more, body suddenly rushing forwards.

"I simply had to copy one of my comrades' ability. How useful it is to be able to clone oneself, mh?"

The grip around your neck tightens and you whimper, your voice rough and eyes blurry from the lack of oxygen.

"Calm down, Commander. Or the lady gets it. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" The chains tug at your wrists, the pull making you croak at the pain.

"Garen. Kill him." You manage, eyes teary as you try to squirm. Kicking backwards while the man behind you grabs you tighter, the pain around your throat and on your arms multiplied at each step Garen takes, at each way you try to get away from him.

But your friend stops. Planting his greatsword in the ground as his eyes widen, eyebrows raising and furrowing in raw concern.

"So you'd rather put your mission in jeopardy than hurt your Captain?" Sylas hums, the thrum of his chest, shaking your body as your eyes begin to roll back. "To whom pertains your loyalty if you can't finish the mission you were sent out to do? The new King should be worried at who serves under him."

The musings of your enemy seem to make the flames of Garen's anger burn brighter, like a hearth growing into a forest fire. But he contains himself, taking steps back. And the further away he gets, the more the pressure on your neck lightens, some oxygen finally reaching your lungs.

"Leave her out of this."

"And why would I do that? You two are my enemy all the same as I am yours, you've never hesitated to hunt down my people, so why should I hesitate in killing yours?"

You're brought down to your knees by a swing of his legs, wheezing and coughing at the sudden rush of air and the burning pain in your legs and arms, tears falling from your eyes against your will.

"Garen, please, just end him!"

"He'll kill you."

"Then so be it. Gods damn it Garen I'm ready to die for my country, it's what I've been preparing for all my life! He is a menace to Demacia, to you. He will hurt you, all of them, he'll wreak havoc if we let him leave! Just let me die!" You desperately plead, voice breathless and broken at the heaviness of your own lies. Their weight crushing you with the guilt of losing sight of your code.

"I won't let you!" He yells, his voice cracking. "I can't.."

A chain wraps around your neck, pulling you up like a puppet before Sylas.

"Aw. How touching." Your feet hang inches above ground, Sylas serving as your personal gallows. His other hand gripping your jaw tight enough that you know it'll bruise. "How about a deal, then? Mh?"

"I will take no deal of yours, you vile creature. And neither will she."

"Oh. No no no, you will take it. Because you either do, or it'll end up really badly for your little friend."

Garen's offensive stance tenses further, anger morphing his features until his eyes trail to you, softening with concern and something far more gentle. Something intimate. Something vulnerable.

He stands there, pondering as he pants, panic overtaking his body while his eyes snap around him, trying to find an exit rout, a plan to get you out safe, something, anything. But when he doesn't and desperation settles heavy in his stomach, he looks back to you, hanging from the chain at your neck as you claw at it weakly. Your body exhausted from the fight and the lack of oxygen does you no good, your form pathetically squirming while sniffles escape you. Wishing nothing more than to be in Garen's arms.

Truth is, death seems like the most terrifying thing to you at the moment, your own previous words nothing but lies to encourage Garen to finish the mission so the dangerous man holding you hostage would finally be taken out of this world. Because you'd be left without him. And he'd be left without you. And the prospect of your loneliness in the vast emptiness of the afterlife while he remains in the land of the living makes your heart shrivel.

Not only would you be left alone, never to feel his presence alongside yours again, to be forgotten, but you have to swallow the bitterness of this loneliness with the fact that he would have to deal with your death for the rest of his days in Runeterra. That he would be hurt, alone, grieving without the possibility to be comforted ever again, without the want or need to let someone else in his heart as he has with you.

You know that it would leave a hole in his soul, he had told you so once.

"If you ever were to die, I don't think I could live with myself anymore. I can take the deaths of comrades, of my men. But never will I be able to take yours."

He had said, looking up at the starry sky after you asked him about his reaction to losing you in battle.

And now as you stand at the door to the afterlife, you're terrified at what will happen to him. Your own death mattering little against what he means to you, what you mean to him.

"What is your deal, mage. Speak."

Sylas tuts behind you, like a parent scolding his unruly child.

"You're in no place to make demands, Commander." His hand wraps further around the chain holding your neck, your body elevating a couple more inches above ground, your neck trapped in a vice as your vision darkens once more.

"Sylas, stop!" Garen yells. "..Please, tell me the conditions of your deal."

"Good boy." The man behind you muses, the chain around your neck loosening and your feet finding the ground once more. "If you two surrender yourselves to us, we'll stop attacking and leave the rest of your men alive. As simple as that."

Your friend shakes, baited breath rattling his heavy armor, his body crumpling to the ground as his eyes shake at the proposal and at the sight before him.

He looks wrecked. Desperate. Fearful.

And this is the first time you see him like that.

Gone is the valiant Commander. All that's left is the boy in the armor. A lonely boy who could lose is best friend, his only friend, if he doesn't make the right choice. But who would betray all he stands for by saving her.

"Time is ticking, Crownguard." Sylas begins to imitate the sounds of a clock as he swings you from side to side.

Garen calls out your name and tears begin to fall from your eyes once more, a monsoon of grief rolling over the valleys of your cheeks.

"Please Garen." You sniffle.

"What do I do? Please, guide me once more, I beg of you." Comes his own shaky answer.

"I'm scared."

Your sobs break him further and you see his resolve crumble.

"Take us, just please. I beg of you. Stop hurting her." His lips tremble as he bows, surrendering for the first time in his life.

For you.

"Good choice."

The rest is a blur. Your body thrown to Garen like a vulgar toy makes him nearly lash out but he remains calm, your form cradled in his arms gently through the length of the way to the Freljord. The cold biting you as you curl up in his arms, his voice comforting you softly while he looks ahead, eyes glossing over when he looks down to your broken form. Your neck and jaw blooming deep purple bruises that fade to greens when you reach an old, abandoned outpost. The both of you thrown and chained in a cell, huddling together for comfort and warmth, your armors ripped from you as are your weapons.

"Why?"

"To have leverage against your people. What can they do without the two of you? They're left defenseless, not the Commander nor his right hand can save them now. Demacia is weak and now, they will listen. And they will learn. Never will we be hunted like animals and treated like mere cattle ever again." Sylas' voice is dark as he slams the cell's door close.

You shake and shiver, clinging to Garen like a lifeline as the chains shackling your hands and feet remind you of the one that wrapped around your neck weeks before. Your eyes stinging each time you look at them.

"I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry." He whispers again and again, day by day. "We'll make it, we always do. I won't let them hurt you. I promise."

Your voice never answers with anything but sobs, your body clinging to him tighter, tears wetting Garen's shirt while he holds you and caresses you. Never does his patience falter, never does he let go, needing your presence by his side as much as you need his.

You hold one another tightly, muttering words of comfort while you're desperately scraping by for any reason to stay strong. Your nation. Your people. The need to keep them protected and safe as you fight tooth and nail for them.

In the end, two weeks pass before you're taken away, screaming for Garen as you're placed in a cell far from him. Your voice raw and your nails bloody as you're dragged away from your sole source of comfort, of familiarity. From the man who holds you so gently even when the world grows cruel and sharp, cutting away at you two you until there is nothing left but scraps that you both piece back together. Again and again, no matter how much it hurts.

"Hello little lady." Sylas muses, every time he comes around. His voice cocky and his gait confident, he looks down at you with condescension. He usually only says this as he delivers your meals, simply entertained by your pathetic, shackled, curled up self. Panting from being beaten mere minutes before, more bruises covering your skin each day that passes.

"It's funny, isn't it. The two highest ranking soldiers of the Dauntless Vanguard dropping their credo just because they can't let go of one another." He teases on the seventh day.

"What do you want, Sylas." You spit out, trying to keep your voice steady even though the days without Garen seem longer the more they pass, minutes feeling like hours, hours like days, days like weeks.

"Simply to break your spirits. I have no information that I need from either of you, we're just biding our time until your King begs and grovels for you to come back."

"And what do you need from him?" You grit your teeth, tired eyes trailing to the man who crouches before you, currently patting your head.

"To change his fucking policy about my people, darling. Because unless what you believe, we're not evil. But hunt people down, chain them for long enough by their lonesome and torture them and you'll have a storm coming. That's how it works."

His hand grips your hair and tilts your head upwards to meet his limpid gaze. Ice cold like the sky in the Freljord.

"Then ain't it dangerous to do the same to the head of the military and his right hand?" You glower. "Maybe you're just stupid then."

"Oh no, darling. I'm not. You wanna know why?" He brings you closer, his facial hair rubbing on your cheek as he whispers in your ear. "Because if either of you tries something, then the other will die. If one of you is alive we still have our leverage, the rest is simply revenge."

And with that he drops you, your head slamming onto the stone floors, and leaves you with the knowledge of your current uselessness. There is nothing you can do without risking Garen and nothing he can do without risking you. You're on your own until the King sends for you.

If he even does.

Would you two be replaced, simple cogs in the war machine that has existed long before you and will exist long after your demise? Or do you two hold enough importance for the King to bargain and change the code that was born alongside your nation simply to have you back at the head of his armies.

Days pass, leaving you to stew in your own hopelessness as you are fed moldy bread, hardened by the cold, stale and given with a slice of whatever else they decided to accompany it with. You're given water like a dog, poured in a bowl they lay on the ground, kicked until you comply by drinking for it on all fours.

In this loneliness you're forced to acknowledge just how much you need Garen. Just how a world without him is harsher, unlivable, impossible to survive in as you shrivel up in his absence. Your feelings for him just seem to grow bigger and stronger in his absence, in this situation you are currently in.

You were content with just being his advisor and his duo once, his friend and nothing more. Content with the scraps of the man you desired whole. But the distance made you realize how badly mistaken you were, fooling yourself to not realize that your feelings of adoration and devotion ran much deeper than a crush, than liking someone. No, you love him beyond even the credo that is engraved in your flesh and mind, you love him above your King and your nation.

And so did he.

He had given up a chance to leave the band of mages without a leader, the chance to kill one of the most wanted criminals in Demacia and an entire group of arcane wielders, simply to save you.

And within the loneliness of your cell you come to the realization that you could have had him all along. Wasting time with stupid ethical reasons from an antiquated code of conduct while each day could be the last you spend by his side. While you could be loving him and him loving you instead of dancing around the question. Instead of interpreting every word, every breath, every reaction, every touch. Suffering when near, unable to cut down the growing affection, but even more when away, unable to handle distance. Both emotional and physical.

And he had probably been feeling just the same.

How cruel. Being blind to the thing that could make you happy, simply because of your reluctance to ruin something that couldn't be corrupted or broken, simply because of fear of being undesired while all signs pointed to the opposite.

"How is Garen?" You choke out at the end of the second week.

"Oh he's…Alive." Sylas muses.

"What have you done to him?"

"Oh stop behaving like this woman, we're just giving him some time alone. Now that I think about it…when did we last see him?"

The realization dawns on you that they haven't been feeding Garen, Sylas' grin as he leaves tells you as much. So you ration, bits of bread, meat and cheese shoved in the pockets of your pants for the next two days, skipping your single meal so you can provide him with one filling enough for his size, careful to keep it safe when more men come to paint your body black and blue.

On the dawn of the third week, you're dragged back to your shared cell, and the sight there is enough to make you want to claw at everyone, a rage stronger than you've felt before taking a hold of you. But you abandon it, wishing for no harm to come to Garen.

He looks sickly, like a shadow of himself. His eyes red and empty, his hair mussed as he sits still with his back to the cold stone wall and his legs stretched in front of him.

Your body is pushed, and you fall forwards, crawling your way to your friend as someone locks your chains to the wall fixtures, the door slamming shut behind you afterwards.

"Garen, hey."

His eyes snap to you in disbelief, he looks dreary from up close, his skin paler than before, cheeks growing gaunt, purple eyebags decorating the skin below his clear blue eyes.

"What have they done to you?" He croaks, his arms wrapping around you as his eyes tiredly trail over your bruised body.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here now."

"It does matter." His voice shakes, anger flashing in his eyes, his voice breathless and drawled, dry from dehydration. "Because you do."

"And so do you." You reach in your pockets. "I know they've been starving you, so I've been saving up food for you. It isn't much, but it should do the trick."

"How many days of food is this?"

"Two. It's fine, I'm alright. You take it. Please, Garen you haven't eaten in two weeks."

He shakes his head stubbornly, softness overtaking his gaze.

"No. Go on, eat. I'll be alright, but you need to remain strong and healthy okay? if not for yourself do it for me. I can't do much if I don't have you by my side."

"Garen, you've been starved! Please, at the very least share with me. I can't lose you either, I simply can't. We have to stay strong, the both of us." Your empty hand shakily goes to his chin, your thumb caressing his lower lip and pulling it open.

As soon as you rip some of the bread and put it along with cured meat in a reasonable portion, you place it in his mouth, doing the same for yourself. The two of you chewing, before one of Garen's hands slides to your hair, pulling your head to his, your foreheads touching gently.

After he swallows this first bite, his stomach screams in hunger, the first taste of food in weeks awakening his body to the extent of his hunger.

Claps resound in the room, your head and Garen's gaze snapping to the closing door behind you, Sylas sauntering in the room with his sadistic smirk. His eyes trained on the both of you with satisfaction.

"How cute, the lady feeding a starving dog. Now, don't stop on my account, this is too sweet to miss." He muses.

You glower yet you reach in your pockets again, repeating your previous actions until your pockets go empty.

"I'm sorry I don't have more." You sigh softly.

"Never apologize, dove. You doing this is already much more than you should have done in the first place. Thank you. For caring for me in such a way." Garen whispers to you, his forehead on yours once more.

"I came here for entertainment. So how about we stop whispering and start having fun, mh?"

The mage rips you away from Garen's arms, too weak to fight back, a kick delivered to your friend as you slam against a wall. Your bruised back sending wave after wave of white hot pain. You crawl back to the both of them as another kick is delivered, your arms wrapping around Sylas' ankles to prevent a third one.

"Stop!" Your voice goes raw from the yell. "Please, just stop. Hurt me again, do whatever you want to me, I don't care. Just don't hurt him." You choke out shakily. "Please stop hurting him."

When Sylas turns to you, you see the smug, self-satisfied look over his face.

"Look at this Commander, your Captain is protecting you! That's just heartwarming." He places a hand over his chest, swooning. "Oh, young love."

Your hair is grabbed, your body half lifted from the floor as your scalp burns from the sudden harsh grip. You grit your teeth, eyes closed in pain and fist clenching to not fight back as you repeat a mantra in your mind.

If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen.

"She's obedient too." He says with faked sweetness. "But I suppose that's to be expected from a good little soldier, mh darling?"

You open your eyes to glare at the man, his tongue clicking in his mouth at the sight of your sneer.

"Answer while I talk to you, darling." He grips your throat softly and you shake, visions of your fight against him coming back and forcing gasps to escape your lungs. Quick and harsh, like you are being choked and lack air.

But you're not, and don't. Even if your body reacts like it's the case.

"Let her go, Sylas. Can't you see she's had enough." Garen spits out, his eyes desperate as he looks at you and reaches up.

"She will have enough when I say she does. And that is when she answers me like a proper lady and answers when she's spoken to." He clips back, Garen widening his eyes as you are lifted up by your hair.

Your eyes grow wet with tears that soon break the dam of your lashes, dripping down your face, leaving trails of salt water on your cheeks that Sylas licks away.

"You disgusting prick." Garen glowers, trying to get up before the man holding you up chokes you further, your mind sent into a terrified frenzy, more tears running down your face along with cries for help.

"Shh, darling." He shushes. "Just answer, like you're supposed to and you won't get hurt." His voice is sickly sweet.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Yes, I'm a good little soldier." You shake, sobs escaping you as he hums in approval.

"Why?"

"Because I'm obedient."

"Good girl. See? That Wasn't hard. You should learn from her Garen, unless you want more harm done."

But as his hand travels from your purple neck to your cheek, his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, you hear your Commander call out weakly and shakily from the ground.

“Fine, I'll do it." His eyes are glossy, chest heaving as he trembles, his hands twitching at his sides. "I'll do whatever you want just, please I beg of you, keep your hands off of her.”

Sylas drops you and Garen swoops you in his arms, cradling you to his chest.

"There you are. Good to see you've learned." The man caresses your friend's face softly, slapping his cheek haughtily. "Now. Why the hell didn't you take your chance, mh?"

Garen swallows, his eyes glaring upwards to Sylas. "What do you mean?" His voice is low, restrained to not let himself say something that could get you two punished, especially you.

"Don't play clueless, Commander. It doesn't suit you." The mage articulates slowly, his eye twitching. "You like your little lady friend. A lot more than you should. But that's why you haven't confessed, right? Because you're afraid of how you'll be seen, how she'll be seen. You wanted to do good by her, be a gentleman, treat her like a proper lady, but you've never found the courage to for gods know how long. But it doesn't keep you from wanting her, and you want her so gods damned bad, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't be protecting her like this. So willing to take all that I give you like a good little bitch."

His face gets closer and you curl on yourself tighter, trying to will yourself into disappearing from the room, making yourself as small as possible. Untouchable by the man breaching your space.

"I…I don't know what you mean."

The small slaps stop and Garen's face snaps to the side, reddened by the sudden strike from Sylas.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, King's Sword. Now let's try this again, shall we?" The man breathes, caressing your friend's face with a fake pout. "You want her, don't you?"

Garen's arms tighten around you before he sighs, kissing your forehead.

"I do." Weakly comes out of his lips.

"What's that? I didn't hear you."

"If I didn't want her to be mine, then I wouldn't be here, holding her bruised body while you still breathe. You would be dead and so would she. But….I can't- I can't let harm come to her." He rests his chin above you, the rumble of his chest soothing your tears. "I love her too much to be without her. I don't think I could live with myself."

Your head lifts and your gazes meet, your eyebrows raising as a hand climbs to caress his face.

"Garen?"

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before. And I'm sorry this is how you learn. I just didn't want to-"

"-Lose me?" He nods and you huff out a weak laugh. "I don't think you could have. Not then, not now, not ever."

His eyes widen, his mind quickly linking the dots together before his eyes gloss over once more, a soft sniffle escaping him as he rubs your noses together.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The way he calls out your name is broken, to which you respond with a multitude of soft "It's okay".

"I love playing matchmaker. Look at you two, aren't you just the cutest." Sylas swoons. "Now, what do lovers do, Captain?"

You shake as his attention returns to you, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down.

"They….kiss?"

"Good girl. What else?"

Images come to your mind, flashes of nude bodies tangling, soft moaning and touches fueling desires further as you grow fuller and fuller. Garen's eyes staring at you, half lidded and filled with adoration, his name slipping from your lips as you whimper, your nails sliding down his back while his arms hold you closer and closer as if to fuse you within his body. It's hot, slow, deliberate and purposeful, the love you hold for one another making the moment nothing short of holy.

But your fantasy is cut short when a hand grips your jaw.

"What. Else?" Sylas spits out, his eyes slicing through you viciously. "I know you've got an idea, pet. Come on, don't be shy."

You swallow, throat now too dry, the hand at your jaw tightening. "…They make love."

You're rewarded with your jaw being freed from the bruising grip, the calloused hand now resting on Garen's head. Petting away like one would a dog.

"And he hasn't done that, has he? But you've wanted to for so long. Haven't you?"

You nod and Garen's hair is suddenly pulled, his head tilted upwards.

"Look at that, Garen. All's well in the world, the hero can have the girl. How sweet." His voice lowers to a rumble. "And you want to fuck her too, don't you?"

"Yes." Garen grits out.

"How badly?"

The man beneath you shakes, shivers racking through him as he looks down at you apologetically. "So much I touch myself to the thought of her."

A maniacal chuckle escapes Sylas. "And you finally have a chance to do what you've craved for so long. How serendipitous."

The man leaves your side before you hear him drag something back to you, a thud resounding as you look at him, now sitting on a chair.

"Now that we've established you two love one another, what's stopping you? Go on, Commander, take what's rightfully yours."

"How dare you?" Garen shifts, his voice biting as he brings you even closer. "We won't be doing this. Not here, and even less in your presence, you psychotic scum."

"Let me reiterate in a way that you can understand you mindless meat shield." The chair creaks as Sylas leans forwards, elbows on his knees. "You will fuck her, right here, right now. You have no choice."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you wish you had. If you'd rather be a coward than take her, I guess I'll have my turn. Take her for myself. Fuck her like you would never be able to, make her feel better than you ever could."

Garen tenses, his breathing heavy and loud. His face twisted by anger as he swallows, pure disdain setting every inch in his body.

"You fucking-"

"Such a foul mouth, Commander. If you don't want your sweetheart to pay for your actions, I suggest you don't try me. I'm offering you all you've ever wanted and that's how you reward me? By insulting me?"

Sylas leans back on his chair, his legs spread wide open as he looks down upon the two of you, his face stone cold as his patience runs thin.

"If you decide to continue that way I'll have no choice but to make you watch as you lose her to me, I'll make you see and hear all you will never be able to achieve. Call your pathetic display 'manners' or whatever you wish, I'll call it how it is. You're pathetic, and now I'll indulge as you break. I'll take away from you the chance I'm giving you so generously, to use her pretty little cunt like you've dreamed to while you desperately fisted your cock like a bitch in heat."

Garen struggles as he lifts the both of you off of the ground, his hands never leaving you as he uses his back to push himself up, backing the two of you into the corner the farthest away from Sylas that you can reach with your chains binding you to the wall.

"Or maybe I'll just make it worse on you. make you break her, make her see just how truly despicable you are. How beastly you can be. How monstrous. I'll have you ruin her for me, enact my vision, lay my claim through you. But you'll feel her, oh yes that you will. You'll obey or I'll take her from you and make you watch as I mold her to my shape and take away all you ever desired from her for myself."

Your throat goes dry, eyes wide as the conversation continues, Garen's arms protecting you from none of the horrible words thrown your way. Long gone is the vision of you, a noble soldier serving a noble cause, and you are reduced to nothing but a way to hurt the man you love. His grip tight, warm yet doing nothing to comfort you anymore as you're confronted with the cruelty of your enemy's creative mind.

Mages are beasts. Mages are monsters. And this simply proves to you that you are right in thinking so.

Bile rising in your throat in disgust as Garen goes to defend you again.

"I won't defile her just so you can have your fun, Sylas. She deserves something delicate, not your beastly ways. You may hate me and torture me all you want but don't you dare suggest something that involves her."

"I suggest you tone down on the rebuttals, boy. She's as much of a murderer as you are and thus she deserves this as much as you do. I'll do as I please with the both of you until I am satisfied to make you pay for all you've done. All the lives you took. Now whether she's delicate or not, I don't give a fuck. And the less you entertain me, the more you fight back, the worse it'll be for you."

The response is nonchalant, devoid of any empathy or humanity as you are regarded as a pawn in this vile game.

"Would you let harm come to her because you refuse to give in to your base instincts? Or better yet." The tone grows condescending. "Will you let Garen be hurt because of his inaction, when something so simple can be done? When you can enjoy each other the way you've craved for a long time. I will just be a bystander enjoying the show."

The chair creaks as he stands, getting closer.

"Or do you wish me to be more than that?" Sylas' hands trail up your ribs.

"Get your filthy hands off of her, you monster."

"Ah-ah." Sings the older man. "Wrong answer." His lips trail up your neck. "Try again, Commander."

The realization comes like a twisted epiphany. Sylas will not relent, he will use this weakness of yours to break the two of you, burn you alive until nothing is left but ashes. And a failure to comply will surely lead one of you to their demise, untimely, gruesome and sadistic, in the name of revenge. A death that will leave the other a shell of themselves.

But then comes the question of what would be left of you if you did go on with his maniacal plans.

Garen, the sweet man he is, will never touch you in a way that degrades or demean you. Preferring to care for you like a gentleman, his eyes never wild, his words always thought out, his touches soft and gentle.

And that would leave Sylas.

A man who would take and take and take, until nothing is left of you. A man who would hollow out a space for himself in your heart in order to wring it dry for his own pleasure. A man who would care not for your pleasure nor your comfort and only use you until you are nothing but a broken toy he wants nothing to do with anymore.

And that would be much more horrible than death for you. You'd rather die with dignity than live with yourself after such an event.

"Garen." You call out softly, your hand cradling his cheek softly, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw. "It's okay, you don't have to do it, you don't have to let him win."

"He'll hurt you."

"But you wouldn't have anything to lose anymore." Your voice is soft as you tremble in his arms. You fear your fate, but trust in his judgment, in the goodness of his heart with the whole of yours.

"Exactly. I wouldn't have anything." His eyes shake in panic, looking to Sylas. "I can't allow that to happen. I'm sorry dove, but I simply can't. I've gone this far for you, and I'll go further if you allow me to. I just need you by my side. I can't live without you. Please." His voice breaks as his gaze maps out your face, as if carving it beneath his eyelids to never forget it.

Your eyes widen at his words. He would let himself be humiliated, led around like a disobedient pet, simply to protect you from harm in any way.

"Do you truly wish to-"

"I can't, on my honor and yours, allow a man like him to defile you in such a way, defile your memory in such a way. I do this with the utmost respect for you as my second in command-" His eyes meet yours, locking your gazes in something so utterly loving that you can't help but feel your heart clench painfully. "-and as the woman I love. So please, please allow me to have you. Allow me to love you even if it's under duress so I don't have to suffer you being harmed any further. I don't think I can handle seeing you hurt anymore."

You take a second to breathe, to get your ideas in place after his display of devotion.

You can't fault him for doing such a thing, for begging in such a way, because you know that you would do the same.

"Okay." You unravel yourself in his arms and he gently sets you on the ground, Sylas stepping back to observe.

Your second hand joins its sister, holding Garen's face with all the gentleness you can muster as you lean on your tip toes, the man before you leaning down to meet you half way. The kiss is tentative, soft, a brush of the lips that is so shy it feels like a simple breeze. And when you pull away, you lick at yours, tasting the remnants of his warmth before locking your eyes with Garen's once more and diving back in. This kiss tangling your lips together in a slow, deliberate dance, your partner's hands holding your hips and encasing you in their warmth, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your skin while you taste each other's sighs and breaths. Tongues meeting shyly with fearful touches, testing the waters before they embrace one another.

Your heartbeat grows faster, Garen's touch electrifying on your bare skin as he pulls at the hem of your shirt, your face pulling away from his and arms raising to let him throw the article of clothing away. Your own hands helping in doing the same for him, revealing a scarred, chiseled chest, abs carved onto his flesh as if it were petricite. And your fingers lose no time in splaying over the taut muscle, hot and shifting beneath your touch.

"Gods I love you." Your name is uttered with the reverence of a preacher in church, praising his deity.

"As do I. I love you Garen, beyond what any words could express."

And your lips meet once more, still soft, loving and gentle, yet displaying more urgency. Your hands exploring the newly revealed skin, Garen's hand undoing your brassiere. His hands don't hesitate to hold and knead at the soft flesh of your breasts as you drop the article to the ground, soft moans leaving you at his ministrations. His thumbs roll over your nipples gently as his face leaves yours, the man kissing his way down your neck, softly sucking, kissing and biting his brand into your skin.

"You're divine." He gets to his knees, kissing down your clavicles, down your sternum, his hands thumbing at the hem of your pants as his mouth finds one of your breasts, suckling on it with a low groan.

One of your hands finds his hair, soft sighs leaving you as it pulls and caresses, the other one finding the belt and button holding your bottoms together and undoing them slowly. Garen's eyes find yours as his lips lavish your other breast and a soft groan escaping his throat in both affirmation and question. Your nod is the only answer he needs as the hooks his thumbs over the hem and pushes it down to your feet, a small movement from you kicking them away.

Garen's lips make their way down again, passing your stomach, down to the last piece of garment you are wearing, his teeth biting the top of it as his eyes never leave yours. He tilts his head down, shifting his body alongside it to pull your underwear down to your ankles, kissing his way back up like a penitent wishing for absolution.

You kneel before him, copying his ministrations as you mark your way down his body, your breathing heavy with nerves and desire as you taste his skin beneath your tongue, your mouth soon feeling the trail of hair below his navel. Your fingers softly pull away at the ties of his trousers and hook around their hem as wall as his drawls', pulling both down as you placate your chest to his, your head tilting up to meet his lips in yet another slow, adoring kiss.

Shivers make their way through your body as you feel him, hot and heavy against your stomach, a moan escaping your mouth only for Garen to taste it, groaning back at the sudden friction on his member. Your hands gripping at his nape and pulling him in further as he gently lays you down on the cold stone, his skin hot as he cradles you close, his lips biting at yours and his tongue lavishing your own before he is forced up.

"As adorable as this is, I'm growing bored. And you don't want that now, do you Commander?" Sylas groans, his hand shoved in Garen's hair before he drops it, gently caressing your hair with false care, his smile soft but his eyes mocking.

You pant, thighs clenching as you look down at the blooming bruises left by Garen's lips on your body and at the thin strip of saliva connecting your mouth to his.

"I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry." You shudder, your back arching as he kisses his way back down your body.

"I love you." He palms at your breasts, pushing them together only to kiss and lick while his eyes find yours once more.

"I admire you. Your strength, your devotion, your heart." He kisses down your stomach.

"You are the thing that I desire most in this world. Anything else be damned, the King, the code." He dips and kisses up your inner thighs, his arms hooked below your knees. "You're all I need. Now and forever. And I'll love you with all my heart, do all I can to engrave this fact in your mind."

That is when Sylas' hand takes a hold of Garen's hair once more, his other hand forcing your hips down as lips clash with your molten core. The sudden stimulation enough to make you pant and arch from the floor.

"A whore like you doesn't deserve to talk. But that'll keep you fed and quiet, won't it mutt? You were so hungry weren't you? Then fucking eat." He brings Garen closer, moving his head up and down to make his lips and nose brush against your entrance, up towards your bundle of nerves and back down.

The hands at your thighs grip you tight, your shuddering whimpers growing as Garen inhales, his own groans leaving him. Then you feel it, a tentative brush of his tongue on your clit, then a slight suckle from his plush lips, a nudge of his nose and a long, flattened lick going from your hole to your bud. The movement shy, apologetic, yet beyond pleasurable as your thighs clench around Garen's head and your moans grow.

It takes time, Sylas guiding his head further in your pussy, manually forcing the man between your legs to taste you. But Garen soon needs no more guidance, his lips no longer shy in their sucking, his tongue no longer tentative in its licks, even softly prodding at your entrance. His cadence the same imposed by Sylas. It's fast, desperate, yet even when the man takes his hand out of your partner's head, he continues. Eating a euphemism for the way you are being devoured whole.

Garen's eyes roll back, his groans devolving into moans as he mumbles muffled apologies against your pussy, lavishing it with his mouth, worshiping you as he brings his face closer, his hand gripping your thighs tightly. So much so that you can feel them bruise already, more needy sounds escaping your throat at the prospect of being covered in marks, at the feeling of being eaten by a starving man, at the sounds escaping him. So wet and messy, so hungry and desperate.

"That's it, what a good bitch you make, Commander. Losing yourself like a drunk does with his wine." Sylas is smug as he sits himself back down, his legs crossing and his arms resting on the back rest of the chair while his eyes remain trained on the two of you.

You've never felt such humiliation before. Forced to be left panting and writhing like an animal on the floor as you are ravaged under the command of your mortal enemy. It's shameful, to look into his sadistic gaze while moans are ripped from you under his words. Yet you can't find it in yourself to fight them back, to fight him back, to fight this pleasure.

Especially since Garen is the one so diligently providing it to you, drinking from you like a wanderer lost in the vastness of Shurima, finally setting foot in an oasis.

The man you've wanted for so long is now between your legs, lapping at you in such a way he seems more beast than man. Starving, a dark hunger taking him over yet leaving some of his humanity in the poison haze of lust overtaking his mind.

"You taste divine." He pants.

"I love you." He chants.

"Gods I wish that I had done this earlier. Felt you on my lips, devoured your sweetness and feasted on your ambrosia sooner." His groans reverberate through the whole of your being, rushing your heart, shocking your nerves.

You writhe at his words, each of them heavy with need, dripping with desire just like your cunt is in Garen's mouth, the man letting no drop go to waste as he savors each of them. He worships you, his hands soon caressing your body, wandering as if lost in the haze, his fingers finding your breasts once more to pinch and pull at the stiff buds standing proud on the mounds of flesh.

The tighter your thighs wrap around Garen's head, your feet locking like a vice behind his shoulders, the more he seems to lose himself. His murmured words of love devolving into grunts, his eyes squeezing shut as he indulges in your molten need. With his fervent passion, it doesn't take long for magma to flow through your veins like a volcano, a force of nature so powerful, so raw, so hot, that you feel scorched alive.

It builds and builds, like the pressure of a geyser and you tremble, your tremors spurring Garen on.

"Please."

"Oh what is that?" Sylas smiles wide at the broken plea escaping you, leaning down to mock you, his hand to his ear as he pretends to listen.

"Please let me come. Please I beg of you." Your eyes roll back, nails painfully clawing at the stone beneath you.

"Isn't that sweet, Commander? Your Captain is begging for you." Sylas's boot finds Garen's head, pushing down with its dirty sole. "What do you think you should do? Should you reward her for being so good?"

You feel Garen's head nodding with difficulty between the pressure of the plushness of your legs and the boot shoving him further into your pussy. The answer enough for your enemy to caress his head with his foot, the hard shoe messing up the King's Sword's already mussed hair as his hands find yours.

Fingers intertwined he fully breaches you with his tongue, his nose nudging your clit as he curls up and inebriating himself from your juices, your walls fluttering around the wet muscle. Your hands clench around his, your back arching from the hard floor as your eyes open wide.

You erupt, molten and all consuming pleasure turning your body into a blaze.

But Garen is unrelenting, his hands leaving their spot within yours, squeezing one last time in reassurance, so that one can press on your stomach to set you back down on the floor, the other one dipping below your bottom and unhooking from your thigh.

Hot fingers prod at your entrance, your overstimulated cunt twitching as they circle the same as his tongue does on your clit. Rolling it around like the sweetest of candies, broken moans now escaping Garen's throat as he inches a digit into your warmth. Imagining just how tight you'll feel around him.

His hips involuntarily grind against the ground, the sudden jolt of pleasure coaxing his teeth to nip at your bud, knuckles quickly slamming into you. You try to arch once more, your body running away from the overwhelming yet delicious pain of your ebbing orgasm, its electricity remaining within you as pleasure builds once more. Too much yet too little. Delicious and terrifying.

And you can't help but want more.

Your hips move against Garen's face, the digit inside you curling up, hooking and caressing a spongy spot within that has you screaming as it goes back and forth, another one soon following it in. Their thickness providing a stretch so delicious that you can't help but sing his praise.

"Gods, please. Please never stop. Please Commander, do what you must, do what you wish, but don't stop. You feel so good for me, so perfect. I love you. I love you Commander." Tears well up in your eyes, now glossy and hazy like the fogged stained glass of a church on a cold winter morning.

To Garen, you're as holy as one. The sight of you as divine as the Winged Protector and the whimpers and moans escaping your lips more beautiful than the most sacred of chants. And he makes sure you know it as he lavishes you with abandon, kissing your core as if it were your mouth, scissoring his fingers to coax your walls open. Readying you for his devotion.

No longer does he feel anger, Sylas but an echo in the back of his mind, drunk with your essence and overtaken with the most glorious of hungers. He doesn't mind the shoe on his head, forcing him further into you, letting him ingrain your smell in his nose, your taste in his mouth, your warm wetness on his face. He takes it as a gift, one that locks him to you as he feasts.

No longer does he feel eyes on him, judging, commanding, the words escaping the enemy nothing but a reason to indulge further.

No longer does he feel shackled by responsibility, duty, ethics, morals, by codes and manners.

No, all he feels is you. Your warmth beneath his hands and around his neck, your essence on his tongue and its smell permeating his senses. He can't help but grind his cock on the ground to provide himself pleasure, he aches for you, now more than he ever has. A simple taste spurring his starved heart into throwing himself into this bottomless, spiraling pit of pleasure he never wants to get out of.

He twitches, panting like a feral animal, your hole accommodating a third finger, joining the rest in their relentless stretching. The thick digits reaching places you never could, brushing against every spot that has you screaming out. Sobs finally breaking you apart as tears run down your cheek. You are drowning in pleasure, your skin hot against the cold air of the room, sensitive to every touch, every sound and your hands find their way into Garen's hair as you roll your hips on his face.

The sound he releases as you do that is nothing short of beastly. A growl shaking your already trembling body as he lifts his head.

"Come. Come for me once more, dove, I beg of you. Fill my mouth with your sweet essence, let me consume you whole."

You simply pant, gripping his head tighter and bringing it to you once more, your voice cracking at the strength of your moans as Garen's fingers speed up.

"And I thought mages were supposed to be the beasts." Sylas croons mockingly, delivering a soft kick to your lover's head. "Look at yourself, Commander Crownguard, becoming so similar to those you hate just because of some pussy. How pathetic."

The mockery does nothing but spur Garen on, his cock weeping between his stomach and the floor. His second hand leaves your stomach as he places it on your pelvis, his thumb rubbing your clit with hurried circles as whines leave his throat, his head now resting on your thigh.

"Please, dove. Please I need it. Give it to me, give me your pleasure. Feed me, dove, I'll be good to you, I promise." He mouths and bites at the inside of your plush skin

"Oh, poor thing. So hungry." The foot once on Garen's head pressing down on your stomach. "Give him what he wants, go on darling, ruin him. He's been such a good little mutt for us, he deserves his reward."

You unhook your legs from around your partner's head and slam one of your soles onto his back, forcing him to collide with the ground, a breathless groan leaving his as the whole of his weight slams down, crushing his cock under him. Your other leg spreads away from him so you can look down.

He looks positively ruined. His face is flushed and sweaty, shiny with your slick. His eyes pleading and his lips plump and red, drool escaping the corners of his mouth as he looks up to you with reverence.

"Garen." Your voice is tight as the coil in your stomach, burn now turned into a storm. Electric, volatile, sending shocks through every single one of your nerves. "Take what you're owed. What you deserve. Take me and my pleasure, take all I have to offer you."

"Please, dove. Please, may I cum? Please, I beg of you, I can't hold on anymore. I need you to allow me to-" He whines, the sound cutting his sentence short, his body shifting as he grinds faster, his muscle pulled taut with each shiver racking through him.

The sight of him so undone, the broken sounds he releases along with his begging, the feeling of your cunt stretching around his fingers, his thumb rolling around your clit and the remnants of your past orgasm all come crashing down on you. Your vision flashes white as a guttural scream is ripped from your lungs with the strength of your pleasure, your hands pushing Garen's face towards your core to drink every last bit of your desire, soaking his face with its strength before he latches his mouth on your cunt.

His own lust pushes him to the brink, every sight, smell and feeling destroying the walls of the carefully crafted fortress he has built within himself as he cums, his body jolting as he seeks his own end. Both his stomach and the stone beneath him sticky with his spent while his hands paw at you, leaving your inner thighs to grip the rest on you, caressing and holding on as if you were his lifeline.

He doesn't stop, his mouth devouring all you have to offer until Sylas rips him away from you, your body lifting and trembling from the all consuming pleasure you experience for the second time in a row.

"Now, now." The man scolds, fake sweetness dripping from his words like yours is from Garen's mouth. Your partner panting and whining like a puppy. "Behave, Commander. We're getting to the best part, so be good and get to your knees. Lest you want me to take your privilege away from you, mh?"

Your lover shakily gets to his knees and sits back on his calves while he shakes his head, his eyes deathly terrified.

"Please, no. I promise, I'll be good. I swear. Don't touch her, leave her to me please sir." His cock is twitching, angry and red, sticky with cum yet still hard, painfully so as he leans back to look at you.

"Isn't that cute, a fat cock for a pathetic excuse of a man. At least there is one good thing about you. Maybe you'll be able to please your Captain like the good little obedient bitch you are. But you'll do it on my terms, remember?"

Garen nods.

"Use your words, mutt."

"Yes…" Garen shakily mutters, his eyes still trained on you. Your hole clenching around nothing, the emptiness leaving you whimpering for more while your body begs for respite.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good dog. You learn so quick don't you?" One of Sylas' hands caresses Garen's face while the other brushing your pelvis, making its way to your core, your hips shuddering upwards at the touch. "You're so good for your pretty little girlfriend. But your mouth can only bring you so far, don't you want to fuck her? Look at how open she is now, I'm sure she'd feel so nice wrapped around you."

His hand dips from Garen's cheek to his neck, softly choking the herculean man, now brought to his knees and made a mess.

"So warm." Sylas drops his hand to the ground, scooping up some of Garen's come.

"So tight." He brings his fingers up to Garen's mouth, his other hand leaving you to grip at his jaw, his thumb hooking over his bottom teeth to open his mouth.

"Entirely yours." Coos Sylas, shoving his fingers in your partner's open mouth, letting him taste himself. "Only if you behave. Will you behave? Will you be good for her?"

Garen's eyes roll back at his taste, his tongue rolling over Sylas' fingers as he nods, a needy whine escaping his throat.

"Such a good little slut. Let her taste you and herself on your tongue."

And he obeys, on all fours your Commander crawls over you, one of his hands cradling the back of your head while the other wraps your thigh around his waist, greedily indulging in your lips. It's urgent, desperate, hungry. As if the both of you are starving animals. The combined taste of the both of you has your body arching towards his, broken whimpers mixing with shuddering groans as you grab him tightly by the shoulders, bringing him closer as if willing to mold yourself to him.

"Please let me fill you." He begs in your mouth. "Let me worship you. Tell me you want it, please, tell me you need it as badly as I do."

His cock is burning, heavy on your thigh as he rolls his hips down on you as if he were in heat. The great Commander of Demacia's Dauntless Vanguard, reduced to nothing but a pussy drunk pet, begging for more and never having enough but still the sweet man you fell in love with, full of adoration no matter how utterly gone he is.

"Answer him, darling." Your enemy crouches besides your head, caressing your burning face. "Or would you rather me being the one to ruin your sweet little cunt? Do you think he's had enough?"

No answer can leave you before Garen snaps his head to the man, his gaze holding primal rage while he rips off the unwelcome hand from your soft skin. A combination of hunger, desperation and anger swirling in the crystal clear pools of his eyes, dousing Sylas in their frigid waves.

"You will not defile her with your corrupt touch." He pants, chest heaving against yours, body curled above yours protectively. "You will not touch, taste or indulge in her. Or I swear-"

Garen's head turns, stinging with the force of Sylas' slap, glowering down at him, his gaze disgusted.

"Mind your next words boy. Because as entertaining as it is to see the both of you lose your mind in pleasure like cheap whores, I could indulge in your humiliation in a much different way." The hand returns to your face, sliding over your neck where previous bruises remain, both Sylas' and Garen's, love and hate leaving their traces on you.

Your lover's eyes widen, disarmed when you tense in fear beneath him, teary eyes now glossy for a whole other reason than his ministrations, the terror heightening each feeling.

"Don't. I'm sorry, please don't. Don't hurt her." Garen shakes above you, bringing you closer to him, his heat melting through your skin. "I'll do anything. Anything you want, just stop touching her."

His arms are ripped from you, your body laid back down on the cold stone as his shoulders are pulled back, chains tying his arms behind his back.

"That's your last strike, boy." Sylas' voice is dark, gravelly and hissed, eyes narrowed at Garen before his hand goes to choke him. "I expect you to put on one hell of a show if you don't want anything to happen to your sweetheart, Crownguard. You understand that, right?"

"Yes." Sylas snarls, Garen's eyes shaking as he looks at you, his fingers flexing as he suffers not being able to touch you, map you with his hands as he has until now, the chains digging painfully in his flesh. "Yes, sir."

The enemy hums, his hand leaving the younger man's throat. "I suppose it's commendable that you wish to protect your lover. Though it just shows how loyal you truly are to your country. Rendered useless and weak by a woman."

"She's not just a woman. She's.." Garen's eyes find yours. "..Everything. And I'd do what I have done again if I can have her by my side." His voice is soft as he utters those words, your arms bringing him down to your chest, cradling him close.

"How sweet." Garen's weight crushes you when Sylas stands up, stepping on his strong back and slamming his body down on yours, his cock brushing against your dripping core. "But dogs don't talk, now do they, pup? So I advise you not to bore or challenge me any further."

He pushes your lover further on you, Garen's hips unconsciously rolling against your weeping entrance as fear and arousal mix through your body in perfect amounts to keep you high, compliant, sensitive and desperate. Your own movements matching his.

"Do it Garen, it's okay." You whine against him, your hands pulling his head up to lick and bite at his lips, your own mind gone, coaxing your lover into giving in with you. "Fill me up, take me, claim me."

"Louder sweetheart, his useless little ears don't seem to hear you."

"Please Garen, I feel so empty." You shudder, clawing at his shoulders pathetically, your body rolling beneath his. "Need you so bad." Your voice echoes in the room, broken and meek, the taste of your lover's lips and the warm weight of his body leaving you craving more.

"Can't you hear her cries, Commander? Would you leave her wanting, trembling and begging for you? Would you leave her unsatisfied?" Garen shakes his head in response. "Words, mutt. Use. Your. Words."

"No, sir." Moans the immense man crushing you, panting in the crook of your neck as you drip on him, his twitches vibrating through your clit and letting tremors shake through your body.

"No, what?"

"Need to fill her, need to make her feel good. Need to feel her squeeze around me. Have to- please let me fill her. I can't wait, I can't stop. I don't want to anymore." Garen pants, his tongue licking at the salt of your skin, his muscles tensing.

A moment of silence passes before Sylas' gravelly chuckle cuts through the air.

"Then don't."

It's immediate. Garen's thighs wrap around yours, leaning back to line himself up. His eyes are hungry, yet restrained, his cock twitching against your fluttering hole until with a roll of his hips his tip catches on your entrance. You feel soft thrusts pushing it further.

The stretch is a burn, sharp and continuous, his length much thicker than you could have been prepared for.

You arch, your back elevating from the cold floor, your body suddenly feeling all too sensitive, the stone too cool, the air too electric, Garen's skin against you singeing its marks against yours. You feel like you are being slowly speared open with each movement of your lover's hips, just like the two of you spearhead the enemy forces on the battlefield.

He slides within you, the wait torturous as your muscle tense and your cunt clenches, the vice like grip making it much harder for Garen to slide within you yet helping at the same time, pulling him deeper.

And as soon as you feel his pelvis against yours he waits a moment, whimpering as his muscle shudder, his eyes wet with pleasure as he lets you adjust to his size.

"Didn't you say you couldn't wait anymore?" Sylas kneels behind Garen, holding his hips and pulling him away, your partner whining at the feeling of your hot wetness around his cock chipping away at the last of his consciousness. His head rolls back on the older man's shoulder, his eyes fluttering. "Then fucking ruin her already."

The mage pushes Garen back to the hilt. Buried within your core, you see something snap within your partner. His pelvis moving back and forth, dragging in and out of your cunt with hard snaps as your hands claw down his chest.

It feels good, too good, divine even. The drag of his cock stretching you open as his eyes grow wilder, Sylas stepping back to bring his chair closer and sit, his legs spread wide as he palms himself.

The shame left you long ago, the sight of the man taking pleasure in your fall from the heavens only amplifying the pleasure you feel. Every vein, every passage of Garen's crown, the curve of his length, his panted grunts, all provide more incentive to your desire. His hair is messy, he is sweaty and flushed, your nails leaving their marks besides your hickies as he looks wrecked, feral, unlike anything you've seen before. But he is no longer pathetic and begging, no, his gaze is trained on you like a predator's just about ready to pounce on its prey.

And now that Garen has had a taste of you, his hunger runs deeper than it ever has.

You feel it in the growing speed of his thrusts, shaking your body as he falls forwards, his form curling over yours as he shoves his face in your neck. Grunts changing to growls, long gone are the soft whimpers and the lovely words as he carves out a Garen shaped hole within your core, pulling at everything else within your mind, your body and your heart to only leave space for himself. Overtaking everything that you are.

And you feel nothing but sheer, untamed pleasure.

Losing yourself in it as you squirm beneath the large man, unable to wrap your legs around his hips as he holds them in his, you are unable to escape the stimulation. And unwilling. Your moans growing louder, breathier as you feel him bruising your cervix, knocking at it with his cock as he fucks you like a raging bull. Provoked until he loses all sense of self and simply rushes in, destroying all in his passage, your insides the fortunate victim of his assault.

"Go on mutt." Sylas squeezes himself through his pants, hard and twitching through the fabric as he watches you get ravaged. "Tell her how good it feels to stretch her open."

Garen's eyes are black as you look down, his pupils devouring the blue of his eyes just as he has devoured you mere moments ago. His body rolling with wild abandon above yours while he slams into you, somehow still feeling like he is pushing deeper and deeper each time.

"Fuck. Dove, I love feeling you open up for me, loosening up around my cock. "

"That isn't all you want to say, now is it?" Sylas opens his trousers, spitting in his palm only to trail his fingers down his chest, his hand dipping below the hems of both his bottoms and his undergarment to pull his member free. A relieved sigh escaping him.

"No..."

" Then say it. Say how much you love her clenching around you."

"I adore the feeling of your pussy quivering around me every time I thrust into you."

"You love ruining her don't you, slut?" Garen nods in your neck, heaving as he drives his hips harder and faster at the words.

"I can't get enough, I need to mold your cunt to my shape. Please, dove. Please let me ruin you." His lips find your pulse, mouthing hotly at it, his tongue tasting your skin.

Sylas groans at the sight, his palm passing over his angry red tip, wet from spit and his pearling precum, his other hand brushing through his hair and tugging as a smirk slices through his face.

"Tell her to moan louder. Tell her to let go." He pants, his eyes half lidded as he strokes himself to the relentless rhythm Garen imposes on your body.

"Go on Dove. Sing for me, chant in pleasure and show me just how good I make you feel when I ravage you. Say my name."

"Garen..." You whimper brokenly, hands sliding to Garen's biceps to hold on for dear life, your nerves lit on fire with each new roll of his hips.

"It isn't enough isn't it?"

"Louder, dove." Your partner is mindless, following Sylas' words like the code the two of you have followed for many years within the army, his devotion to your country's laws that has already waned for you fully crumbling under the all consuming desire to claim you.

"Garen!"

Your eyes roll back as he takes himself out of your molten hot cunt, dripping and clenching deliciously around him as he slams himself back in, setting a punishing pace. You squeal, your head slamming on the hard floor as you try to catch the breath he just knocked out of your screaming lungs.

"I said. Louder." You feel your stomach raise and bulge at the sheer size and violence of him, losing more of himself in his chase for ecstasy.

You aren't much better, your mind fully turned off, nothing else matters now but the feeling of the man above you molding you to his shape, using you for his pleasure as he rips yours from your quaking body.

"Please Garen, fuck! Need you, need you so bad. Please don't stop." Your voice grows louder, tears escaping you once more as you float in the haze of your own lust, mindless, greedy and needy, all that the rules you previously abided prohibited you to do.

"So obedient, Commander. She deserves praise." Sylas squeezes himself harder, licking his lips at the sounds you make, each hum, each moan, whimper and whine spurring both him and Garen on further into their endeavor. Ruining you for themselves, each in their own way.

"Good fucking girl. Let's keep it that way, mh dove?"

"Yes Garen. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Please, destroy me and piece me back together. Carve my insides so no one else can ever take me but you."

The man suddenly leaves you, his body no longer crushing yours and his legs unhooking from your thighs, the emptiness you feel within suddenly jarring, forcing you to squirm on the ground while you beg for more. But you don't have to, not for long as you see Garen lean back on his haunches.

"Legs up on my shoulders. Now."

Your eyes widen at the darkness within his, baited breaths escaping his lungs with urgency? His muscles shift and his cock twitches heavily, your slick leaving a sheen on it as it drips precum on your stomach.

"Now, dove."

You snap out of your stupor and lift your shaky legs to Garen's shoulders, his body immediately bending above yours as he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth teasing your flesh before his hips snap to yours. His length enters you once more, his jaws snapping and trapping some of your skin in their bite, breaking the skin and using it to hang on to you without his hands. This time he doesn't leave time to accommodate the burn and immediately begins thrusting into your warmth, the new position making you feel him much deeper.

Each vein, the drag of his skin as you clench on him, his tip pushing against your innermost parts. He fucks you like a feral animal, all caution thrown to the window as you sob for him, singing his praises and crying out his name, his answers given in the form of choked out grunts, moans low and huffed.

Meanwhile the mage' stomach shudders his own groans growing louder as he tastes the fingers he used to touch your weeping cunt before, his eyes rolling back and his hips rolling into his hand. His form suddenly getting up and kneeling besides your face, the sight of his cock dripping on you making you open your mouth. Unwilling to waste a single drop of what he has to give.

"That's it, sweetheart. Open wide."

Your tongue barely has the time to taste a drop of the bitter liquid before Garen pushes Sylas away with his shoulder, his mouth finding yours to kiss away the offense just done against you. The insult corrupting your velvet tongue washed from your taste buds, his face coming up as he lets his spit drip in your mouth, overtaking your taste buds with the metallic flavor of your blood.

"Close your mouth. Don't you dare let him in, you'll taste me and only me, dove. Do you understand?"

You nod at Garen, moaning as his thrust roll into that one spot within you, the same he caressed within you earlier while stretching you open on his fingers, your body tensing and trembling as he goes to bite your neck again.

"Good girl-" His sentence is cut short as Sylas grabs his hair, pulling his head back and presenting his cock to the larger man who immediately glares as his cheek is slapped with the twitching length.

"Go on. Since you won't let her have a taste, do it yourself. Open that disgusting little mouth and taste me, Crownguard. Either you do it, or she does, your choice Commander. right now i feel like she'd love to taste just about anyone's cum with how well you're fucking her. Good Commander, you've made your girl into a pretty, mindless little slut.”

Garen's eyes trail to you, his eyebrows furrowing as his lips turn down to a soft frown, his body dipping back to you despite the sharp tug on his hair your own face screwing as the words hit hard through your sensitive haze. Not only your body but also your heart feeling more than ever before.

"Dove, don't listen to him. You're far from being anything he says, you're beautiful, precious, intelligent. You matter more than anything you can give, yet all you ever do is beyond perfection. His words mean nothing, let them pass they're worthless-"

"Are you going to start crying next Crownguard? Ha! Don't bore me with your soliloquy, Garen. Ruin her or I'll do it for you, and I'll have her scream my name so loud you will never look at her without the sound of her voice whining for me ringing in your head, without the sight of my cock stretching her open engraved behind your eyelids."

Garen's face twists in anger as he straightens back up.

"You won't speak about her in such a way again."

"Seems like the mutt grows a spine for his bitch doesn't he? I'm going to teach you not to bite back at me, boy." Sylas presents himself to Garen once more, his hand tugging painfully at the brown locks as he rubs his precum over the younger man's lips, leaving them with a glossy sheen. "Now open up wide and take it or she'll pay the price for your insubordination."

Your lover stills within you, his eyes gazing at you longingly before he looks up, lips opening to accommodate Sylas' length as he bends down to take it in his mouth.

"And don't you dare fucking bite, because it'll be more than her sweet cunt that I'll take if you fuck up. One. Last. Time. I've already been too gracious to you." The mage's eyes roll back as he feels the warmth of Garen's throat, immediately shoving himself and using the mouth holding him as a toy. "Now go on, fill her up. Don't mind me."

The sight before you is as glorious as it is dirty. Sylas' hips snapping against the Commander's face as he ruts into you, your back rattling at the sheer strength behind each thrust. Garen chokes yet learns to relax his throat and swallow around the older man's length, the sounds of his mouth sloppily sucking mixing with the wet slaps of his hips against yours, his whines, Sylas' growing groans and your own pathetic, broken moans. Your mind unable to register anything but the pure eroticism of the scene and the unbridled pleasure you feel. Your body shaken down to its every atom, shaking as your veins pump lava in your body, your nerves frying from the sheer amount of electric ecstasy running through them.

"Garen." You claw down his chest, your body writhing as you come closer and closer to the brink. Your voice is breathless, whiny, and broken as you arch up, calling out to your lover like a believer does their god. "Garen please, please I need it. Please give me everything. Please."

His sounds are choked and muffled before Sylas slides his mouth off of his cock.

"Go on, answer." Comes his snappy answer, rough and gravelly with the need to meet his own pleasure. "Tell your dove to come around you and milk you dry. Cause that's what you want right, mutt? And she's been so good, hasn't she?"

"Yes, sir."

"So fucking say it."

Garen swallows, his throat rough from the treatment as his hips snap against yours with more fervor.

"You can do it, dove. That's it, you can let go for me. Come around my cock, let me bleed you dry of your pleasure, let me bring you to ruin. You can do that for me, can't you? Then be good and come for me, soak me in your juices and clench around me to milk me dry like I know you can."

And at his breathless answer your body goes slack, loud sobs ripped from your throat as you gush around him, your nails digging bloody crescents into his shoulders.

"Gods, let me fill you up, dove. You can take, it can't you? You can take being stretched full and filled to the brim by my come. I know you can. Because you're perfect for me. You're tightening around me so well already, it's like you're begging for it. But don't worry, I'll reward you, I'll reward you for being so utterly perfect for me, dove." Your needy whine is enough of an answer for him to double over, his thrusts growing sloppy before he buries himself deep within you, his tip molding to your cervix as he empties himself. The heavy, molten feeling of his cum filling you up pushing you past the delicious pleasure of your orgasm, the pleasure now past the threshold of mind numbing. Your mind fully gone as you float in an ocean of ecstasy.

"Swallow, mutt." The mage shoves himself down Garen's throat one last time, reaching past his own brink and flooding the warm mouth entrapping him with bitter spent. Sylas' cock pulled out as soon as he finishes while your lover chokes on air, face screwed at the taste and humiliation of what had just been done to him.

The three of you are left panting. Your body a puddle on the floor as Garen leaves the warmth of your cunt to bend over you, lavishing your body with kisses, nuzzling his face against your skin.

"I'm so sorry, dove." He mumbles exhausted against your skin, his blue eyes now back to their usual state as grief paints his face, shame and fear swirling in his eyes before you cradle his face. Bringing him back up, your lips meet his, wiping away at Sylas' taste the same way he had for you.

"I'm glad it was you." You breathe on his lips, your touch shaky before your lips reach his, your kiss filled with adoration. Slow and sweet, filled with as much emotion as you can muster at this very moment. "Even if it had to happen this way."

"Gods, you two make me sick." The sound has you and Garen snap your head to the side, Sylas tucked back into his trousers as he gets up with a sigh. "But you did keep me entertained, so I will not complain."

He reaches into his open vest, pulling out a letter, throwing it to the ground besides you.

"Your king accepted our terms." He hums. "I suppose you were as important as you seemed to be. How fortunate for you."

He scoffs while he undoes the chains holding Garen's hands together. The man immediately taking you in an embrace, shielding your body away from Sylas, his form dwarfing and hiding yours.

"What are they?" Your voice murmurs, tired and strained, your body trembling as you begin to grow colder. The heat from your passion fueled activities slowly ebbing away.

"To change your code." He grunts, getting back up and regarding your intertwined bodies with disdain. "Thou shall not kill mages anymore, no more witch hunts, no more senseless murder. We'll depart in a week's time to bring you back to the edge of Demacia. Behave until then."

He grips at the chair he had brought with him, dragging it along with you as he leaves.

"If it means anything." His voice calls out, his eyes narrowed and nearly glowing, visible even in the dim room. "You two may not be as rotten as the rest of them." And the door slams, loudly and heavily before you are left alone with Garen.

His arms hold you close as he whispers apologies and sweet nothing in your ears, and although you know you should be ashamed, disgusted and terrified, you can't find it in yourself to feel this way. And it may be because of the exhaustion, or because of the delight you feel in finally being held in Garen's arms as a lover, but that is a problem you wish to not confront for now, simply basking in his devotion.

So, as your lover's warm hands caress you with the same gentleness they always hold for you, you feel yourself being pulled to sleep. The cold ground and air nothing against the warmth of Garen's body.

"I love you." You weakly call out, your face nuzzled in his chest, voice muffled as you listen to his heart beating.

"I love you too." His chin is softly laid on the crown on your head after his lips find your forehead, his deep breaths rocking you against his chest. "More than any words can say. When we get back to Demacia, perhaps I could…properly court you? I don't think that I could go back to hiding myself after today. I already ran away for too long, and I can't let anything come between us anymore, not even myself."

You smile tiredly, kissing the spot above his gentle, golden heart. Your head turning back to lay on the soft muscle soon after.

"That'd be nice… Finally being yours."

His arms wrap tighter against you and you feel him nod as exhaustion finally overtakes you.

"Yes, dove. It'd be nice."

No matter how hard and cruel the world is. How painful or shameful it may make you feel. It'd be alright if Garen is by your side. You are Demacia's strongest soldiers after all, and your might remains strong, even through the harsh storms willing to capsize you. You’ll come home together, and you’ll rebuild yourself by his side, even if your nation changes around you. You’ll have his heart and hold it dear as he will yours, and the two of you will find a way to make it as you always do.

Yes. Despite it all, you'd be alright.

Navigation: here

League Masterlist: here

20 notes · View notes