My arm wrapped Illia's waist, and I was still hilt deep within her, riding out the aftershocks of our shared release. The back of her thighs stuck to the front of my own, drenched in sweat. Her entrance clenched around me in a succession of waves as her insides, like loamy spring soil, pliant and clinging, caressed my length. Our shared magic had touched our skin, painting us both in midnight black, with faint strands of dawn light shimmering off it at odd angles. Mutual pairings were an inexact science, our bond could last for hours or weeks, depending on a multitude of factors. There were reports of odd year or lifetime-long pairings, but I had never seen one in person. Based on the complications we encountered forging the bond, my fear and resistance, I guessed our shared strength had a very short lifeline.
My hesitance was replaced with a deep trust. I thought back, trying to come up with someone I knew this completely, and came up short. It felt right, there was so much to Illia I'd have never guessed, how social situations drained her, how she enjoyed chasing frogs in the rain. It also felt wrong, unearned, if it wasn't for our shared burden of helping these girls she'd have never divulged that side of herself. I even knew the why behind that wall, and refused to dwell on it.
I began to pull from her, "No, not yet-" she said, holding her hips against mine, and I acquiesced, understanding her want, and collapsing onto her back.
One silly thing I'd feared, that this sort of connection would kill our rivalry, had not come to pass. We both saw how the other thrived in competition, if anything it had redoubled our resolve. This tender moment was an agreement forged in a instant, a truce and promise that we would not stop pushing each other's limits.
I gave her another thrust, and a measure of my heat returned, her texture against me stoked my fire and I found myself gliding in and out of her at a gentle pace. She groaned and bit her lip, which was now a mess of drool and sloppy green-black lipstick.
"Haa-I'm already sore you demon-" she said, but it was just for play. Her want was my own, and I stepped up the pace, intimately aware of how deep and how fast she wanted it. This was good, damn good, it was like fucking and being fucked, like her mind was guiding my body to give it to her.
"Bitch you can't spend all day masturbating through me, we have-hnnng," she gripped me tight, reveling in the sensation of me trying to hold it together, not wanting to climax until I'd delivered her release.
I raked my fingers into her hair, yanked back, and held her arched form until she shuddered, then let myself spill another load into her.
She surged her power into Reilin, wrapping her in thick shadowy vines that I knew would hold until our return, keep her under in a dark quiet place. We dressed and blanketed our mantles before exiting my office and heading uphill to the Durough manor.
It was difficult to initiate smalltalk when you knew exactly what the other thought. Any question that came to mind was immediately answered. Instead, we operated through affirmation. I stopped our trek to purchase her a waxed-paper cup of mulled wine she'd eyed but deemed a waste of time, and she in turn rubbed my aching arches as we relaxed against a tree. The true challenge of this unity was focusing on anything other than each other. We would have taken to rutting in the park if it weren't for the pressing matter of Reilin's sister. I'd already nestled a hand up the slit of her dress and between her thighs when she finished her beverage. I sucked at my slick fingers as we resumed our journey.
"I'm glad you like my taste," she said, and reached back to cup my sack. "Cut it out," I said, "I'm not getting fined for public indecency."
"Broke girl can't afford a little ticket?" She laughed. She wasn't wrong about her flavor, it carried the kind of spice that made your tongue curl, buried within sweet that had bloomed in our aggressive coupling.
"Maybe if I poach a few more of your-" My heart stopped. Fifty meters or so down the row of storefronts were Cora and Selenee, flanking a step behind a familiar crest of crimson hair. Behind them a gaggle of attendants trailed, their arms laden with colorful paper-sacks.
Illia immediately registered it through our connection and yanked me into an alley. I needed to get out there, drag them away from that beast, Illia held my arm, "It's just a ploy, a test, you cannot lose face here."
She was right. My whole ruse with Reilin relied on me being a similar sort of monster, "I can't just-"
Her thumb stroked my skin, "You don't have to, he wants a rise from you, give him the right kind," I searched her eyes, and realized what this was, Regis and I were Illia and I, I'd poached his student and he was stealing in turn.
"You keep him busy, I'll go handle Purfree," Illia said, and marched down the alley in the opposite direction.
I straightened my hair and exited back onto the street, relocating my wayward girls, and painted my face with surprise, "Cora, Selenee!" I waved. They were closer now, just a couple storefronts down the row.
Cora spotted me and beamed, "Mentor Serica!" A silver necklace sporting a charm, some sort of bird, hung from her neck.
Regis didn't miss a beat, his hand landed on the small of Selenee's back as he smiled and waved me over. Selenee held her usual grace, paying his intrusion no mind.
"Hope all is well," Regis called, "-heard you had to cancel last minute."
"That's right, some faculty business, we'll be back in session tomorrow you two,"
We exchanged niceties and my students filled me in on their run-in with Lord Regis. He pushed them into a boutique leather-works, "You two get started without me, I'd like to touch base with Serica on Reilin's progress."
He turned, "That Cora's an unpolished gem, hear she has a bit of a bath-house kink," he said, and his wrinkled cheeks pulled into a smirk.
I locked eyes with the despot, "I'm assisting you with your side project Regis. I don't intend to share my own."
"Oh," he laughed, "I almost considered you a kindred spirit, but this reads weak Serica. You might not yet understand, those that hoard their toys tend to play alone."
He grabbed my arm tight, "Take a look around," he gestured down the street, across bag-toting attendants, waitresses, shop assistants, "This city is dripping, waiting, and its best prizes are shared, by those who play nice."