Chapter Text
To my left was Lux and, as always, cheerfully and fervently, chirped about something. On the right wasKai'sa , in contrast to my talkative friend, who was very restrained. Kai'sa recently joined us at the War Institute but was able to find pleasant company with us. Without much attention, I lazily poked at my lunch, slipping out of the conversation. My head was spinning and I was frame by frame, scrolling through yesterday evening.
Light fatigue gradually turned into an unbearable burden. Even though I am in a support role, I fight desperately and selflessly, like other, stronger members of my team. I will take a shower to dispel the unpleasant sensations. Warm water and apple aroma filling the room are relaxing. Gradually taking my thoughts to another, more pleasant side.
Thoughts filled the man's face, the look, the smile, the tattoos, the cheeky demeanor. Or rather to be disgusting, but it attracts me. Rejects and attracts at the same time. I feel very stupid, because I understand what a wayward and unreliable man has sunk into my heart. But I have no strength to fight with myself. No strength, no desire.
When the shower was over, there was nothing better than getting comfortable on the bed. Despite all attempts, Morpheus did not take me into his arms.
The man's face appeared again before his eyes, ears seemed to hear his loud, rolling laugh. I caught myself lightly stroking my body. Hmm, why not. Perhaps it will help to relax and drive this smug Dumbhead out of my head.
Up and down, up and down. Lightly touching your chest with your fingertips, squeezing and stroking. Descending lower and lower, finally touched the heated flesh. My readiness would have been enough to admit the kidnapper of my thoughts without delay. Which is sometimes forgotten and does not lend adequate attention to detail. A light press and a wave of pleasure slid over the body. One more and the waves intensified.
And then there was a knock at the door.
Damn, if not in time. The knocking grew louder and more intrusive. Okay, now someone is going to run into trouble. Goose bumps ran through my body as I opened the door. Draven stood before me with a stupid grin on his face. This is how the he looked almost always.
"Isn't my main fan happy to see me?" Blinking his eyes innocently, the executioner asked.
Kicking him lightly in the chest, I pulled Draven into the room.
Hmm, I wonder why he came back so early? He himself wanted to take a break from the League somewhere far from the Institute of War.
And he showed up right now. When my nature needs it so much. When I need him.
Without further ado, he began kissing me. At first, the kiss was a light touch, like a butterfly flying. Which playfully jumps from one flower to another.
But gradually everything began to change. The tongue studied my mouth harder and harder. There was something predatory and possessive about it. Draven held me tight, pulling as close as possible. As if I was trapped. Into a trap from which I did not want to get out.
Pulling back, he stood with closed eyes, continuing to hug me. When he did look at me, I saw another hungry look. The moment and the look softened.
A couple of hand movements in the air and a phrase is formed from it. He had never tried gesture before. Am I important to him and is he not hopeless? Due to ignorance and lack of practice, the movements were a bit angular. But this did not in the least spoil the wonderful moment and the meaning of the phrase. "I can be better." It's incredible, he's right. Our future is not hopeless. With my fingertips, I gently touching his cheek. A wide palm covers mine, and I again find myself in a captivating trap.
A couple of kisses and now, I'm already on the bed, and Draven covers with the weight of his body. The robe was torn off with one sharp movement. A hungry, ravenous look again splashed in the eyes of my executioner. We move in unison, smoothly. Like we dance. My hands travel along his body, and I am again amazed at how strong he is. Our bodies are woven for a long time, as if it were a ritual. Only mine and his.
"What if this ostentatious behavior is not casual?" Lux's voice rips me out of my thoughts.
"Well, what if" my friend hesitated a little "what if he is gay?"
With sharp jerks, the executioner knocks me into the mattress.
I sigh and make a vague gesture, as if to say that anything is possible.
My nails scratch harder on his back.
His lips are discussed over my body, over my face. Without kissing, only touching, as if delirious.
"It is unlikely, I think he can avoid or hide his feelings. But he would not hide it." Kai'sa was amazingly perceptive.
"In any case, he remains a fool himself in love." Lux answers, and all I can do is smile at Draven; he catches my eye and grins. Yes, he is a narcissistic fool, but he knows how to be different. For me.
Fingers pull hard at the back of my hair, closing into a fist. Sharp and pleasant pain. Nails, lightly touching his back, stick in leaving bloody marks. But he doesn't mind, he likes it. My executioner is getting harder and harder.
“I missed you,” he whispers, barely touching the ear with his lips. From this simple phrase, goose bumps come, forcing to endure.
And the sweat presses its forehead against my forehead and freezes, the hot, sticky mixture fills me. Draven blows sweat on my forehead, lies down next to me and hugs me tight. This contrast in his actions breaks my heart. Making me even more attached to him. Making us even closer.
1.0 informs me, my executioner with a smirk, leaning back on the pillows and pulling me close. And I just draw intricate patterns on his chest.
"Give me a couple of minutes and we'll equalize the score."
And we compare, and more than once.