>>6484
>>5982

>книгу про Амбессу.

Уже вышла:

The room echoed with a steady tap tapping of the bed frame as it repeatedly bumped the wall. It was rhythmic, consistent. Like the room itself counted the seconds as they passed by.

On the balcony floor lay the forgotten cloth, stained with blood. Beside it, strewn messily about, were various items of clothing. A blue tunic with gold embroidery, a beige breastplate adorned with fixtures of black and gold. The trail of discarded pieces ended halfway through the room, the trajectory plenty discernable.

Caitlyn clutched tightly to the pillow beneath her chest, arms wrapped tightly around it. Long fingers fisted fiercely into the satin pillowcase, the material warm with the ferocity of her grip.

Behind her, Ambessa in her finest element, muscles and scars exposed to the suite and all its fineries. Those hands grew even more familiar now, held firmly to the generous curves of Caitlyn’s hips as she thrust against her. Repeatedly.

It was rhythmic, consistent.

Caitlyn swallowed a cry, burying her mouth in the pillow as a bolt of pleasure – edging into the realm of pain – shot up her spine.

Fingers twisted into her hair and gave it a yank, forcing Caitlyn’s back into a deep arch as her head lifted. “Do not be shy, little one,” Ambessa purred. “I want to hear you.”

Bright blue eyes, glossy with the tight and tender grip of arousal, looked back as best they could. Ambessa had shed every piece of clothing for this, as she always did. There was nowhere to hide narcissism in the privacy of this space, intimate as it was. The embassy had provided Ambessa with each and every one of her most particular requests, including the handful of enormous mirrors that decorated the suite.

One of them happened to be situated on the wall parallel to the bed.

That was where her gaze landed now and another airy sound filtered up Caitlyn’s throat. She could not bury it this time, and it echoed through the room around them. She would come before Ambessa – she always did. It was nearing now, the pace of its approach ferocious and intoxicating. It made Caitlyn tremble, made her body feel weak. Like she balanced on the precipice of simply shattering beneath the weight of Ambessa’s powerful thrusts.

In the mirror, Caitlyn caught the flash of glowing runes on Ambessa’s arm. The protective stones she wore around her guard, to keep her safe… From what, Caitlyn still didn’t know.

With mouth agape, hair still clutched in the commanding grip of the general, Caitlyn watched the markings’ glow fade from green to red as she tipped over the edge.

>>6723
Это с ao3
https://archiveofourown.org/works/61004413/chapters/156420454
>>6743
Ну раз так...

Ambessa gripped the generous flare of one hip with a single wide hand. Her fingertips cut beneath the bone. The other flattened between delicate shoulder blades, a shadow on fair flesh, and applied pressure.

Caitlyn forgot to breathe as she was folded over the edge of her own desk, pressed flat to the top of it with her bare feet still firmly on the ground.

The weight of Ambessa curling over her back urged Caitlyn’s front harder into the desk’s surface, breasts aching in tender protest.

A warm breath washed over her ear. “That is called control, child.”

Caitlyn’s lips parted on a silent sound as Ambessa’s length slipped into her. There was no effort spared to prepare her. Not physically, at least, as the slow and torturous removal of her clothing had given Caitlyn ample time to slide into the necessary headspace for this. But her body protested, knees trembling under the pressure of Ambessa’s unaided intrusion.

There was nearly something clinical about it. Caitlyn bared and bent over her own desk, Ambessa standing tall behind her in the striking textiles of a warlord. The cool press of the map beneath her cheek exacerbated the feeling.

As did the pinch between her thighs.

Heat stung at the base of her spine, cut through her belly and licked up her abdomen. Her grip tightened on the edge of the desk, her throat closed around a whimper. Ambessa would not approve of such pitiful sounds from a commander, but there was nothing about this moment that inspired passion.

The last word Ambessa spoke rattled freely in Caitlyn’s brain, a chaotic sound that concatenated itself with the white noise that echoed in her skull.

Control.

Caitlyn felt entirely out of control here. She couldn’t control her rapid breathing. She couldn’t control the way her body lurched as Ambessa’s hips suddenly snapped forward. She couldn’t control the ragged cry that stumbled off her lips as she turned her head to hide her face against the map of Zaun.

Despite everything, she didn’t want Ambessa to see it contorted with pain.

“Ask your question again, little one.”

Caitlyn immediately received the impression that Ambessa didn’t actually want her to repeat it. The weight of her retreated before Caitlyn could even draw a breath to form words. The shaft inside her moved, scraped backwards through tender walls that clamped anxiously around it. When only the tip remained, she greedily dragged air into her lungs.

“It was a stupid suggestion,” Caitlyn whispered instead, every word pouring like poison over the many borders and passages of Zaun. “Senseless.” Ambessa’s grip on her hip tightened and she descended just slightly, slid a mere inch deeper. Caitlyn’s spine trembled. “Weak,” she choked on the word.

Ambessa seemed pleased with the admission, rewarding her with a soft caress of thick fingers up the middle of her back. It rose and fell with the intense labor of Caitlyn’s lungs below.

“We are not weak,” the general growled. Her nails bit into the fair flesh between Caitlyn’s scapulas, hips pressing forward again. Ambessa was a smooth woman, her motion fluid like water. But Caitlyn felt her like fire and closed her teeth around a sob.

She shook her head, a slight but frantic motion that had her forehead rolling back and forth against the desk. A waterfall of blue spilled down the side of her neck with the motion, the end of her ponytail a deft caress against her jaw.

“Your decision was sound,” Caitlyn conceded. Ambessa ground forward against her and Caitlyn could only try to swallow the tight cry that tore at her throat.

Ambessa wasn’t imploring her to be free, Caitlyn noticed. Not encouraging her to let loose every sound, or to feel uninhibited at all.

This was Ambessa’s intention.

She’d never used sex as a tool between them before, but Caitlyn convinced herself now that Ambessa wanted this to feel like a punishment.

Wanted Caitlyn to feel degraded because her concern for Vi was misplaced. And unwelcome.

Vi was a weakness. A vulnerability. Ambessa was a master at expelling weaknesses, firmly ranking the importance of her ability to lead above all else. Her highest responsibility, with a practiced devotion that would see her forsaking even her dearest kin if it meant a sound mind and a sharp blade.

As a rhythm formed that had her hip bones grinding mournfully into the edge of the desk, Caitlyn Вit down on a sob and braced herself against the hopeless ache of it all. It was with a concern she’d never felt before that she recognized the movements of Ambessa’s hands. As if the steady pounding between her thighs was not enough, the general might demand more of her.

A muscled arm weaved itself beneath Caitlyn’s shoulder and damp azure eyes cracked open to look, to see Ambessa’s forearm against her chest, pinned between the pale of her body and the blue of the map. The runes that decorated her arm guard glowed a fiery red.

The next breath Caitlyn took was the slightest touch easier. Warmth bloomed in the pit of her stomach, slick seeping slowly between her thighs to soothe what had been abused raw. The next sound that filtered up her throat was not a cry, but an airy gasp as pleasure steadily replaced the pain. It rolled up her spine and through her limbs – relief, like a sip of steaming tea on a crisp morning.

Caitlyn’s fear that she was being punished for her insolence sifted away, sand in high tide, Ambessa her ocean. Even as a fraction of her attention followed the path of Ambessa’s other hand over the small of her back, she could not question this. Could not question her mentor, nor the palm that greedily struck her on the supple round of her bottom.

The sharp sound of it bounced off the walls of the study and Caitlyn forgot whatever harrowed echoes had come before it.

She absolutely would not question Ambessa. Not even when a finger traced a shiver-inducing line down the crease of her backside, and ultimately dipped inside her.

“Ambessa–” The breath heaved from her lungs, chest expanding against the arm still pinned tightly to it. It was a bodily reaction more than an intentional one, shock coursing through her at the tug and the stretch that was completely foreign to Caitlyn.

“Hush, child,” the woman whispered from behind her. Despite the renewed tension that tugged Caitlyn’s body taut, she delved further. Pressing that single digit through a tight ring that fluttered around her knuckle until she’d reached as deep as she could.

A whimper clawed up Caitlyn’s throat and she wondered if her knees had simply given out. There was very little comprehension for the rest of her body now, every synapse firing with the same objective – to adjust to the new presence inside her. To accept it. To find within the fire a reason, and a path towards folding it seamlessly into the rest of Ambessa’s command of her body.

“Ambessa,” she breathed again, but the sound had softened. A certain surrender expressed in the handful of syllables that slipped off her tongue.

But Ambessa wasn’t done, it seemed. Caitlyn’s head was forced up off the solid wood it had been resting against this entire time, because Ambessa’s arm was on the move. Snaking up the center of her chest, over her throat and chin, until two thick fingers pushed past her lips. A muffled sound escaped her, toeing the edges of rejection against this third trespass. But those fingers simply reached deeper, flattened to the plane at the back of Caitlyn’s tongue and rendered her incapable of resistance.

Her jaw slackened, her throat hollowed, all an attempt to avoid gagging on Ambessa’s intrusion.

And for a moment, everything stilled. Quiet settled around their joined bodies, the sort of peaceful calm that came with Piltover’s first snow of the season each winter. Nothing echoed. Nothing stirred. Even the night never reached true blackness. There was no breath as cleansing or as electric as that first inhale of ice in the air.

Everywhere a soul could find a place to rest inside Caitlyn was claimed. Every vacancy, occupied. Every corner, every hollow, filled, and by a force as fierce and immovable as Ambessa Medarda. There was room left for nothing and no one else and as she clamped blue eyes shut once more, a shimmering tear escaped past dark lashes.

Behind her eyelids, the heated stare of steel blue. The glint of metal in a perfect nose. The dusting of freckles around a thin tattoo and the sweet bounce of magenta hair.

It all faded into darkness, further and further from her grasp until Caitlyn saw nothing at all.

Caitlyn’s limp form was no inconvenience for Ambessa. After extracting herself from the girl’s holes and tucking the strap away into her trousers, Ambessa simply plucked Caitlyn off of the desk and lifted her used body into her capable arms. “Dear child,” Ambessa cooed to her unconsciousness as her quiet footsteps carried them from the study. She encountered not a single soul or obstacle on her way to the commander’s private quarters and tucked Caitlyn into the bed with tender hands.