Released from Guardian duties for the night, Vila takes the opportunity to walk the Academy’s outskirts. In her ironed and arranged uniform she passes unused classrooms and lecture halls, gardens overgrown and deserted— there is no reason to come out here, and so nobody does. Since she arrived at the Academy, these quiet places have been her sanctuary.
Her wandering takes her through the Elizabyth Ceremonial Gardens, dedicated to a past Empress and cleared out only for another Empress’s coming — as rare as that is. And so as she walks the Gardens she sees overgrown tangles of bright pink plants and pockmarked holes where some greedy Alchemist has pilfered herself ingredients. The marble path is hard to walk, the first time, but by now Vila can pick her way over the roots and branches without losing a second.
Usually she walks so she doesn’t have to think. (She spends so long thinking — about her essays, her exams, her duties.) But the deer has taken even that. Vila thinks and thinks and thinks, every thought of her. Even just picturing her face summons a strange pressure around Vila’s throat.
She’s been fucked twenty-five times in twelve days. Each time leaves her panting and, quietly inside herself, swearing not to do it again. To leave it. To lash the girl with fire if she tries it. And yet, each time, she finds herself bending over, swaying her hips, even — Godsdamn it — wagging her tail.
But she has found her resolve, out here in her sanctuary. In this private, special place, she can draw the strength to deny the deer — and shut out the stupid, pathetic part of her that leaps for joy whenever she’s called Kitty.
It’s not like she doesn’t have options. She can count no less than five women who would gladly love her with all their heart; ones who would treat her with the respect, reverence, and awe that a girl like her deserves.
A rustle and the snap of a broken branch spins her round, and her face drops. This can’t be.
Alyx, wineskin in hand and Wineskin by her side, stumbles forward with a big, drunk smile.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Vila says, digging her heels in by reflex.
“Neither, should you.” The deer can barely stand, by the looks of it — there’s a certain tolerance at Vayal, but getting blackout in a restricted section… well, no way to slice it. That’s a Mark.
“I’ll need to-” Vila begins, but Alyx is already on her, holding her by the arms as she kisses her neck. “Stop,” she says, firm. She remembers her resolve.
Alyx ignores her completely. “Wineskin, guard the entrance.” She throws a fat salmon behind her and the bear snaps it up, before lumbering over to the Gardens’ beautiful, swooping gate. Alyx leans her weight against Vila, nibbling up her chin.
“I told you to stop.”
“Baby, baby, baby, why you, why you gotta- come on, baby — I want you.” A hungry hand rolls across her belly before finding Vila’s firm chest, and Alyx squeezes like it’s her only handhold among the rocks.
“You don’t,” she snaps, loud and forceful enough to actually stagger the deer, send her falling to the grass. “I know all about your little contest, Alyx. You don’t want me; you want a distraction while your first choice dithers. You’re using me, and I’m done.” Vila makes the fatal mistake of not walking away now, while Alyx is still stunned and confused.
But then, it’s hard to, because she’s never seen Alyx like this before. The deer crawls forward, too drunk to get back to her feet. She steadies herself on Vila’s thigh — the full weight sends Vila back against a twisting tree. “I’m not using you, baby, baby, baby — I care about you. You’re my Kitty.” Her clumsy hands hook under Vila’s stockings and yank them down around her thighs.
“Stop that! I told you already-” But the protest stops at the feeling of hot breath against her, the maddening sensation only slightly attenuated by the thin barrier of fabric. “You can’t-” Alyx peels Vila’s panties down with her teeth, skirt hiked way up by her antlers. “I said-” and then she needs to grab the tree to keep herself from falling to the ground.
Alyx goes at her the way drunks go at any food — like it’s her first meal back in civilisation, and all she wants to do is devour it, snap open the bones and suck out the marrow. Vila pants and gasps, watches Wineskin guard the gate, wonders how this happened again.
Frankly, she could get used to this. Alyx is doing such a good job that it’s hard to remember why she was mad… right, she overheard First Years gossiping about the contest. But why had she cared? How could she have thought Alyx was anything less than devoted? She’s on her knees right now, praying.
Her thighs clench around Alyx’s cute little face, around her soft brown cheeks. The deer’s muffled moans join Vila’s. You’re doing it again. You’re not meant to. You’re meant to stop her. You could knock her out with a flick of the wrist right now.
But then the pleasure would stop. She never wants it to stop.
Gods, how deep are her lungs?
As Vila runs through thought loops, Alyx’s mind is completely blank. There’s input: another high pitched moan, and output: shoving her face deeper and working her tongue faster.
Vila spasms, every thought silenced by a rocking orgasm that sends her slumping to the ground, Alyx pulling her face back just in time. There’s a fleeting moment of post-orgasm lucidity that tells her nothing about what just happened precludes Alyx using her — but it vanishes when she sees the deer’s face, fur askew and dripping. She surges forward and forces her tongue into Vila’s mouth; she tastes herself on cracked lips.
The two roll through the grass until Vila’s flat on the ground, skirt hiked up, Alyx above her and then inside her. She gasps, clenches her paws around clumps of cold earth — thank the Gods the snow’s off, out here.
Why are you letting her do it again?You need to- but the thought dies when Alyx yanks Vila’s head back by a handful of hair and pulls her into another kiss so passionate and intense she starts to think the deer really is in love, which makes the contest confusing rather than outrageous.
“You look, so, fucking good,” Alyx mumbles as she thrusts. “Who’s my good little Kitty?”
Stupidly, she stares at the boozy-faced Alyx for just a moment before practically shouting “me, it’s me, it’s me! I am!” Gods, girl, why are you like this! Why why why!
“I’m gonna cum all over your pretty ass,” she slurs.
No you aren’t! Every time you get that in my fur it takes hours to clean.I’m not going to be debased again. Her mouth can’t form these words, though it has no problem screaming “mark me! Mark me!”
“Isn’t this, isn’t this nicer? Better than fighting, Kitty?”
Vila nods so fast it makes her head spin.
“You were so… so angry. So upset. You must really, love me, huh?”
What a ridiculous suggestion. What a stupid idea. You forced me twelve days ago and you think I’ve just fallen for you like some street whore? I should lash you. Instead she buries her face into the ground and tells the grass she loves it.
A few strands of hair rip free when Alyx turns Vila’s face back to her. “Tell me,” she says, and instead of scratching the presumptuous girl across her (gorgeous) face, Vila moans out a lusty,
“I love you.”
An hour later, standing in her plain, neat bathroom cleaning cum out of her fur, Vila thinks about how empty she feels now, how the ache of absence drives her insane. It gets so bad that she stops, leaves half of it crusted in there — the skirt covers it all anyway — and leaves her rooms.
Alyx, sleeping off one hell of a binge, wakes to her Kitty on top of her, and forgets all need for rest.
This time she marks her tits.