Damn near the first thing Alyx Fartrot did after arriving at Drive’s Compound was sneak away from the tour, reasoning that this was the Drive thing to do. After all, she had no desire to zipline around the floating islands, from mess halls to barracks, from obstacle courses to watch towers, hearing the hoo-hah ooh-rah bullshit from their hard-faced, hard-voiced guide.
(Maybe if she could get the wolf alone to test a theory about fascists and jackboots she’s been nursing for a while — a theory Vila certainly supports.)
Swayed by Alyx’s conviction, which did genuinely give them reason to think it was the Drive thing to do (and hardly the types to turn away a good excuse for fun), Mae Maiven and Nymeria Whispwood went with her.
Such is the trio’s skill at sneaking off and breaking rules that they found their paradise after only a minute’s searching: the cavernous Dragon Hangar, disused ever since Headmistress Lyra started keeping her Familiar on the Academy’s roof rather than with her Temple.
In the back of the Hangar, in a side room of lockers Nym’s snooping quickly identifies as belonging to the former Dragon Tenders, the three drink conjured wine and get steadily drunk.
“So is your dragon gonna have Tenders?” Alyx asks.
“I think so,” Mae replies. “The Headmistress mentioned something about ‘legacy facilities’ that she’d see about reopening. I guess she knew I’d end up here.”
“Where else could you possibly be?”
“I’m plenty inventive.”
“Suppose that’s true. Clever, too. Beautiful and terrible and godsdamn sexy.” Alyx leans over — not hard to do, they’re all packed in so close on the one bench that hasn’t rotted away — and puts a hand on Mae’s thigh.
She giggles, leans into Alyx. “Careful. It’s hardly fair on Hattie for you to exploit us sharing a Temple.”
The deer kisses up Mae’s neck. “She should’ve wanted it more. Besides, we still have the competition — unless you think there’s a chance you’ll cave?”
“You always get me drunk with sinister intentions, Alyx.”
“There’s nothing sinister about the way I do it.”
Nym, who doesn’t mind any of this stuff normally but is, frankly, pissed about how the two of them go on like this as if she’s not even there, stamps her feet petulantly and says “that’s not true! You’re nothing but sinister with Vila.” She feels a certain affinity for the Guardian, who clearly enjoys what Alyx does to her but knows she shouldn’t, a feeling Nym is by now well acquainted with.
Alyx scoffs. “And what do you know about Vila?”
Realising she has no answer, Nymeria erases all memory of the interaction from Mae and Alyx and slinks off on her own, sullenly poking around the Hangar’s back hallways. In a half-collapsed room she finds a trunk, its magical combination lock set to 359 — on a lark she clicks the button, and it pops open. What she finds inside might not solve her problem, but it should at least get her a bit of attention.
However, as she walks back, she hears high moans and gasps, and frowns. That’s not right! There’s a competition on. Mae’s rejected Nym three times, citing the competition each time, and if she’s getting fucked that suggests Nym’s been lied to, which she just can’t have. Invisible, she returns to the room, and just about falls over herself in fury when she sees Mae, stockings rolled down and skirt hiked up, straddling Alyx and facing away from her.
“Fuck, Mae… please.” The deer’s dick brushes against Mae’s entrance. They both shudder.
“You need it?” she asks.
“Fuck, yes, I need it.”
Mae grinds her hips, giving Alyx a truly spectacular show, and slowly lowers herself…
Pushing back at the last moment and letting Alyx’s cock slip against her mound with a giggle. “You know you can’t have it. Not unless you win. Hattie wou-”
“I’m sick of hearing about Hattie,” Alyx says, grabbing Mae’s hips and clearly intending to settle the issue. A jab of Restoration magic to the thigh causes them to release, the deer slumping with a pitiful whine. “Fuuuuuuuck,” she mumbles, testing her lips a few times, touching them with groggy hands.
Mae rolls her stockings back up and teases the sedated Alyx with a final wiggle of her hips. “I’m gonna get back to the group. Thanks for the wine,” she says, curing her intoxication and leaving Alyx with a kiss on the forehead.
Nym, meanwhile, wonders what to do with all this. She’s hardly going to get the reaction she wanted (expected… no, deserved) with just a drunk and painkiller-high Alyx. But, then again, Mae made teasing look so good, and maybe she can make do with the deer after all.
Now visible, she steps around the corner and gets Alyx’s attention with an innocent “where’d Mae go?”
The deer sees Nym in a perfectly preserved Dragon Tender’s uniform, clearly for a goblin, or gnome, or any of the other smaller folk, because it’s much too small on the wood elf. The generous fabric tapering across both front and back borders on a loincloth on Nym’s wider frame, and the typically loose chest is form-fitting, breasts straining against the deep Drive red.
But Alyx hardly even seems to notice. “The fucking tease…”
This contest is just driving Alyx crazy. It’s all so stupid. They could’ve had so many mutually blissful threesomes by now, but instead Mae keeps working her up and leaving her to pump her frustration into Vila, or (on those horrible occasions when Alyx can’t track her down) into her hand. And worst of all Hattie won’t even fuck her even though she like, obviously wants to.
This contest is also driving Nym crazy, because here she is in this fucking slutty outfit, right, and Alyx is all glassy-eyed thinking about Mae. Mae Mae Mae. It’s always Mae!
Sure, Nym technically has a girlfriend now, so it’s not like she can do anything. (Probably. She’s really got no idea if Syrene would be mad or not, and errs on not risking it given Syrene always knows how to punish her in the ways that hurt the most.) But it’s not like she wants to do anything with Alyx, who thinks herself so, so much better than she is. She just wants a bit of attention, is all, and come on! She’s not even wearing panties under this, so the least-
“Fuck,” Alyx growls. “Hot.”
Knocked out of her bitterness, Nym sees Alyx staring at her with characteristic drunk esurience, stroking her cock. That’s more like it…
Uhm. What now?
Taking her cue from Mae, Nym stretches herself out, leaning on a locker and sticking her hips out, the curve of her ass only accentuated by the thin strip of fabric. “What, you like it?” she says, innocently.
“Come here.”
“Oh, Alyx, you know I can’t. I have a girlfriend now.” Still, she saunters towards her, basking in the security of Mae’s sedation spell.
“I need this,” she slurs, hand on Nym’s thigh. “Need it.”
“You can’t have it.”
“Just- just, just sit.” Alyx clumsily taps the spot next to her, and Nym settles in, pushing her chest out. A hand on her hip pulls her against Alyx, and panic sets in when she realises the deer, sedated, is still stronger than her. “I want you. You look so fucking good.”
Nym sneers. “No you don’t — you want Mae.”
Alyx mumbles something and Nym sees the mood is far less fun than before, so once again she erases the memory and tries again. This time she coos “I do?”
Hot breath hits her ear. Cock brushes her thigh as Alyx leans into her. “I need this.”
“More than you need Mae?”
“More than I need anything.”
“Not an answer,” she says, tapping Alyx on her cute nose.
“Ngh, fine- more than I-, need Mae.”
She knows it’s a lie, of course, but it’s a comforting one, one she’s happy to believe, if only for now. Really, she knows it’s all a lie — Alyx isn’t uncontrollably attracted to her; she’s just worked up. But it feels so good, to be showered in compliments, and Nym is really starting to have second thoughts about this whole girlfriend thing. It was an impulse, the silly but ultimately shrewd wood elf sensed power shifting and allied herself with it, the most natural thing in the world; but Syrene never really compliments her at all and she doesn’t think that’s about to change.
“You want me that bad?”
By way of answer, Alyx leans all her weight into Nym, groping her breast and exploring her mouth. The elf breaks the kiss as the two tumble to the ground. “I told you I can’t,” she giggles, only to find a furred hand over her mouth. She tries to wriggle away, but Alyx has landed on top of her, pinning her with her drugged body.
“You- you’re right, you’re- it needs to be physical. Purely physical.” The already flimsy barrier knocked aside in the fall, there’s nothing to stop Alyx entering Nym with a shuddering moan. “Oh fuck. P-purely physical. Won’t- won’t kiss you. I know not to,” she says, flexing the fingers over Nym’s mouth as if committing it to memory.
Stop, she tries to say, but even if Alyx could hear Nym’s not sure she’d care.
“I needed this. She’s- she- fucking tease. You’re- nnf, so hot- such a good friend.”
Something catches in Nym’s stomach and she stops screaming protests against the hand. She’d entirely forgotten how it felt to be praised, how it felt to be fucked by someone who liked doing it. Alyx’s slurred “thank you; good girl,” in her ear only makes her heart jump further.
“So tight. You’re so- fuck- thank you.”
And, of course, she does have to admit that on a ‘purely physical’ level, she likes feeling full, and Alyx’s given her that and more. “You’re so fucking wet,” Alyx slurs, half-mocking and half-awed. “So good- so good- fuck. Thank you.”
With surprising strength (sedative must be wearing off) Alyx flips Nym onto her back and, promise forgotten, forces her into a sloppy kiss as her hips thrust faster and faster, Nym’s entire body shuddering with pleasure. It feels so good she’s entirely forgotten why she wasn’t meant to do this in the first place — you can’t keep secrets from a Mystic, and a few days from now this little mistake will earn her a permanent brand. But Nym has no clue Syrene will find out, because how could she, and so returns the kiss with a whine. “Say more!” she pleads.
The deer’s face, looming above her, twists into a look of blissed out empty-mindedness. Instead of giving Nym the praise she deserves, Alyx just moans, groans, and pants. Drooled spit hits Nym’s cheek and she wonders how something so disgusting could possibly thrill her like it does. Maybe it’s just seeing someone turned into an animal for you.
Meanwhile, Alyx, drunk and high, has broken her promise of a purely physical interaction, but has, in a roundabout sort of way, respected Nym’s relationship — she’s seven inches inside her, sure, but in her head she’s seven inches inside of Mae, which makes it a little better, she thinks. Her tie slips from its clip and slaps Nym in the face, causing a moment of brilliance to settle over Alyx.
She’s an Illusionist.
“M-make yourself Mae,” she slurs.
Nym’s face drops. Her moans stop, but only for a moment — Alyx doesn’t let up, and as offended as she wants to be, it’s hard to do anything but take it like a good girl. “I’m not-”
Alyx grabs her face with a hand, fingers pressing into her cheeks. “N-Nym, l-listen, right now I just- I need this. I’m so fucking, worked up. Just- I need you to be a hole. Please,” she whines.
“B-but, you said-”
“I need this.”
Not sure why she would ever tolerate debasing herself so, Nym weaves a spell and shifts Alyx’s perceptions around so she seems to be the frankly stupidly attractive (unfairly so) Restorationist, complete with her stupid perfect tits and stupid perfect ass.
“Oh, f-fuck, Mae,” Alyx moans, her thrusts somehow hungrier, her kisses tender and loving. “Mae, thank you. Finally.”
“Say you want me,” Nym says, with Mae’s voice.
“I want you.”
“Say you need me.”
“I need you; I need you.”
“Say you love me.”
“F-fuck, I love you, Mae, I-”
“No. No, keep my name out of it. Just you.”
“Y-yeah, I, ngh, fuck, I love you. I’m so fucking close.”
“Not inside.” She wouldn’t think she has to say — it’s hardly esoteric knowledge that wood elves are compatible with most forestfolk — but then Alyx is so drunk and high she might accidentally get her pregnant.
“F-fuck, please, I wanna-”
“No, not-”
Alyx locks her hips against Nym and floods her insides. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “J-just Restoration it away.” Her legs twitch and spasm as spreading warmth fills Nym, the terrible frenzy Mae whipped Alyx into finally fading away.
Nym drops the illusion and slaps Alyx across her sharp face. “I’m not a Restorationist; fucking idiot!”
Alyx, for some reason, just laughs. “Oh, shit, r-right. Perfect!”
“Perfect? Are you-”
“We’ll get Mae to- to help. She’ll see I’ve got options.”
Reminded that all she is is, indeed, an option, the spell breaks as Nym dives right back into bitterness, staring up at the deer tangled on top of her with hatred. But Alyx answers it with a kiss and whispered words that restore her hold on the Illusionist:
“You’re so good, Nym. If, it’s already happened… let me, again — as you, this time. You look fucking hot in this thing.”