Title: Lady and King

Pairing: Sylvanas Windrunner/Varian Wrynn (and/or variations thereof)

Author: Dude from Blackhand

Warnings: For "mature" readers only. I'm not kidding. Hit the back button if you're underage.

Disclaimer: The world is not mine, the characters are not mine, I'm not making money off them, so please don't sue me, bro.

Notes: So apparently no one really pays attention to the ratings rules, lmao. So here it is—the entire porny chapters.

XXX

Chapter One

Western Plaguelands

From the personal journal of Lieutenant Hague of the Argent Crusade.

Day 23 of—

Once the unusually violent storms that besieged us had past my men and I journeyed far beyond Light's Hope to take stock of the Plaguelands. On the rocks bordering the Western lands we spied the ruined carcass of a small ship—a pleasure craft bearing the colors of Stormwind.

Immediately we sought to determine if there were survivors. And if not, to bury the dead… if the corpses had not already been cannibalized by the wildlife, the Scourge or the damned Forsaken for their vile concoctions.

It was a small yacht, and clearly did not have many passengers. We saw a handful of human bodies, mostly bloated and disfigured, but thankfully unravaged by unnatural creatures. We buried those as best we could, preserving some kind of token from the bodies to help identify the dead. The paladin Horace said a few words to ease their spirits to the afterlife.

From the boat we salvaged as many serviceable materials as we could—supplies, as ever, remain scarce in these godforsaken lands.

It was then that I found her.

She was half buried in the wreckage, and was so still that at first I thought her one of the deceased. A young human woman, dressed in court finery with hair the color of ripe wheat and skin like fresh cream… and around her neck, a strange amulet, glowing softly.

I cried for the paladin, who immediately rushed to my side. We hurriedly freed her from the wreck and moved her to the beach where Horace began his magics.

"Is she alive?" I ask him. Always best to verify these things.

"Yes," Horace answered. "She is protected by a barrier, similar to a paladin's. It must emanate from the amulet, though I've never heard of such a thing—"

Suddenly, the woman's body flashes a brilliant white and the sound of breaking glass echoes in the air.

We all of us had taken defensive positions—you can never be too careful—but for nothing: when the light faded we found the amulet broken around the neck of a woman who was blinking up at us in seeming confusion.

She had blue eyes.

xxx

Day 25 of—

Her name is Lady Emma Grey. She was sent to the Night Elves by her father, Lord Carrow, to study.

"Though I must admit," she had said, frowning at my bleeding arm, "that I did not learn much of anything except perhaps that I am definitely no healer."

I laughed despite that the loss of blood was making me feel cotton headed. "Well my lady then it is indeed fortunate that your beauty could easily compensate such a lack of skills."

"Beauty without skill… what a useless creature this is," she murmured… no, I'm certain I am mis-remembering our conversation. I was in much pain and suffering quite a bit at the time.

She is gone now, whisked away to the capital and guarded by a small group of skilled adventurers promised to be rewarded accordingly by her father upon her safe return.

I must sound as a calf eyed youth, but I admit that I will miss the lady. She brought a different kind of light to these dark lands in the short time she was here. It is difficult to explain, and I am no poet. However, if the Lady Jaina is as the sun, then Lady Emma is the moon.

She had a dignified and haughty air about her, with a bearing that was almost… regal.

I pray that the Light watch over her, always.

XXX

Cathedral Square

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

It was a damned bad night for a party, Phineas Mayburry thought to himself as he and his wife alighted the steps to the fashionable Grey mansion in Cathedral Square. Around him thunder rumbled and rain poured still as relentless as it had the previous day.

"I still do not understand why we could not travel directly to court," his wife Constance complained. As she was wont to do. "My shoes will be ruined by the time we reach the ball at this rate."

Phineas bit back a sharp retort. He'd long since learned not to start arguments before parties as his wife could and would sulk all throughout the night… and for the next three days. "Grey asked for a favor, my dove, and it would not have been gentlemanly of me to refuse."

"Hmph."

They were quickly ushered into the house and out of the rain. A pretty serving girl took their cloaks. Phineas let his eyes travel along the lush lines of her uniform. He must remember to ask Grey where he bought his staff's livery, they were much more attractive that his own.

Turner, Grey's butler, stepped forward. "Lord Grey waits in the back parlor. This way sir, madam."

As always, Phineas found himself reluctantly envious of his friend's fortunes as they passed one richly appointed room after another. While Carrow Grey's blood might not be as blue—his great-grandfather was a merchant—as Phineas' own, there can be no denying Grey was as rich as the cursed Dragon Queen.

A footman flung open the parlor door as they approached.

"Phineas, my good man!" Grey bellowed in greeting, moving forward to clasp his hand and kiss his wife's. As usual he was dressed in the finest court fashions in the most garish colors imaginable. "And the lovely Constance. Thank you for making the extra trip tonight. I know it must be a damned nuisance because of the weather."

"Think nothing of it, Lord Grey," Constance trilled, smiling widely. Phineas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "But we must ask what prompted you to ask this yet undisclosed favor of us. It all seems so mysterious."

"Please, sit. Cognac? I have some truly excellent Dalaran wine here."

After we'd dispensed with the pleasantries, Carrow sat down with his wine and said, somberly: "it concerns my daughter."

"Emma?" Phineas frowned. "Hasn't she just returned from studies abroad?"

"Yes, a mentorship with Priestess Leara in Darnassus."

Phineas made a reluctantly impressed noise and beside him Constance pasted a smile on her face. Priestess Leara was famously known for successfully polishing young noble ladies for their come outs. Almost all of her students eventually made good marriages. They wanted to send their eldest daughter to her next year, but could not quite afford tuition.

Perhaps this favor of Grey's could open the door to a loan. The gods knew the man could certainly afford it.

"Has something gone amiss? I have heard nothing but good things regarding the Priestess' tutelage."

Grey waved his hand, the gems in his rings flashing. The man looked more kin to a peacock than noble. "Emma completed her studies admirably. The mischief occurred after, during her journey back to the city. The storms swept my yacht off course. It was found wrecked among the rocks off of the Plaguelands."

"By the Light!" Phineas exclaimed.

"My word! Is the poor girl all right?" Constance cried.

"Miraculously, she survived the crash and was found by knights from the Argent Crusade. An enchanted amulet that I'd given her for her protection saved her from certain death."

"Thank heavens," Constance said, placing a hand on her bosom. "She has not suffered any trauma from her ordeal?"

Grey sighed. "While the amulet saved Emma from physical harm, my doctors have diagnosed her to have… selective amnesia." He paused. "Emma retains most of her knowledge, but she has forgotten many things, specifically those pertaining to Wrynn's court."

Constance wrinkled her brow. "Then, her studies with Priestess Leara…"

"Those she kept—in fact I could scarcely believe the improvement in her disposition and bearing at first. It is why I was not able to quickly realize something had gone awry; she hid it very well.

I'd asked for you to come here tonight because Emma will certainly need a… shall we say, 'guiding hand,' during her first forays back into court society after her sojourn among the Night Elves—and her accident." Grey turned his eyes on Constance. "Since she has no mother of her own since my wife's passing many years ago, I was hoping you might act as a patroness for her, Lady Mayburry."

"Oh, well…" Constance hedged, blinking. "I would of course be more than happy to be of any assistance, but my hands are full enough as it is with my own daughter's training for her come out next year."

"Ah yes, Prudence, I believe is her name is?" Grey smiled, and Phineas felt a chill across his shoulders. "Of course I understand that your time is very valuable. As such, it would be incredibly remiss of me not to offer suitable compensation. I have spoken with Priestess Leara and she has assured me that she has room for one more student in the coming months. In exchange for your assistance to my daughter in this matter, I would be more than happy to sponsor Prudence's own studies under the Priestess."

Phineas sucked in a breath. The offer was more than generous. He exchanged a look with his wife. "I say, that is very generous of you Grey. We couldn't possibly—"

"But I insist! You would be doing me an enormous favor, old friend."

Constance smiled. "In that case, we accept."

"Wonderful!" Grey said, clapping his hands together. "I'll have Emma come down and we shall all go to the ball together. Oh, and I'm sure I need not remind you to keep this all confidential, hmm?"

"Of course," Constance stuttered, "but Lord Grey… you mean to bring Emma to the ball? Tonight?"

Phineas frowned. "Yes Grey, isn't that a bit too fast? Especially if the girl is just recovering from that kind of ordeal?'

Grey waved away their concerns and tugged on the bell pull. Turner immediately entered the room. "Have Emma come down. And ready the horses, we shall be departing for the castle shortly." Turner bowed and left.

"I understand your concerns but I'm afraid I just can't wait. I'd already accepted the invitation tonight, and Lady Carstairs sent me a note specifically inquiring about Emma's person. She would be sure to make much to-do if Emma doesn't attend."

Phineas winced. Lady Carstairs was one of the most influential ladies in court… and had been angling for her daughter to win that most coveted prize: Queen Consort to the King.

Every new debutante inevitably came under her gimlet gaze, and, if she found the poor girl to be either wanting or a serious competitor to her own daughter—she would crush them. More than one debutante's matrimonial prospects had been dashed into the proverbial stones under Lady Carstair's elegant heel.

The best advise mothers gave their daughters upon first meeting Lady Carstairs is to 'not stand out.'

However, Phineas thought it wouldn't be much of a problem for Emma Grey. If he remembered the chit correctly—and he did—she was certainly attractive enough but largely unremarkable and empty headed. He glanced at his wife. It shouldn't take much effort to keep the girl from committing any kind of social faux pas tonight.

He sat back and sipped his wine. The night, despite the foul weather, was certainly turning in his favor.

And then Lady Emma Grey entered the room.

Phineas was not aware he had stood up until he found himself lightly pressing his lips to delicate fingertips. He stepped back, reluctantly, and allowed her father to guide them to the waiting carriage. He did not, could not, take his eyes off of the young lady.

The months among the Night Elves seemed to have completely transformed her from a daisy—pretty but common—into some kind of exotic night blooming orchid. She said not four words to them besides the usual greetings and yet Phineas could not remember the last woman who had enchanted him so.

Her eyes were a clear, deep blue that almost glowed from a pale, flawless face. Her flaxen hair was swept up into a romantic chignon, small sapphires twinkling in their curls. A smooth, swanlike neck inevitably drew a man's eye to the generous curves of her breasts, alluringly on display by the fashionably low décolletage of an evening gown the color of the sky on a clear, summer's day.

She was almost unbearably lovely, and, he realized with a start as their party stepped down from the carriage and into the castle, would certainly be seen as a threat by the dreaded Lady Carstairs.

He chanced another glance at her cleavage. Poor girl, he thought, and hoped that perhaps he could place himself in a position to console her once she suffered from Lady Carstairs' put downs. Young, naive misses were so delightfully easy to upset—and seduce.

xxx

Stormwind Castle

If the moronic human did not stop slavering over my breasts like a dog after a piece of meat, Sylvanas Windrunner thought to herself, I will rip out his spleen and feed it to him—slowly.

Although technically they were Emma Grey's breasts. It mattered not, however, as the human girl certainly had no need of this body now.

When her scouts had found the wrecked ship and brought the noble girl sleeping inside the protective barrier to Undercity, at first Sylvanas could not be bothered with such trifling matters as a prisoner. She'd ordered the girl's body be sent to Apothecary Faranell—he could always use some fresh ingredients.

However, upon breaking the barrier it was discovered that the girl—weak willed as she undoubtedly was—had fallen into a coma because of her ordeal. While her body remained perfect and uninjured, her mind, her consciousness, had fled. Sylvanas had ascertained this for herself.

Immediately she realized the weapon that had unwittingly fallen into her lap. A 'live' human noble with no mind would be laughably simple to possess fully and absolutely. In this silly human body Sylvanas saw a path for her to regain standing in the Warchief's eyes after the unfortunate business with that traitor Varimathras.

The perfect spy.

A focusing gemstone was made and after Sylvanas performed the initial possession, she swallowed it, feeling it fuse inside the body, and providing her a way to break and regain her control over it across large stretches of land. She could possess this body while 'remaining' in Undercity… or anywhere in the Eastern Kingdoms, for that matter.

There were enough residual memories left inside the girl's brain for Sylvanas to effectively impersonate her, but apparently, not enough to fool her father that nothing was amiss.

Selective amnesia, indeed.

It was disgustingly easy to infiltrate the capital when one has the perfect, impenetrable disguise. While Emma Grey's father was, unfortunately, a silly noble with no business in war, Sylvanas had already managed to learn the army's training schedules and approximate number. Gossip had been a surprisingly good source of war news… humans—and especially human adventurers—were ridiculously easy to induce to talk and brag, when given the incentive of a pretty young noblewoman with an appreciative ear and a deep décolletage.

Give them the slightest glance at a puckered pink nipple and they all fall ass over cock in their haste to tell you all their secrets.

Pathetic.

Sylvanas smiled charmingly at the majordomo and watched as the severe man almost stuttered as he announced their names.

Over two hundred pairs of eyes swung to them and Sylvanas automatically fell back on her court training from ages ago. She, along with Alleria and Vereesa, had always been the toast of any ball, born with the inherent ability to command men and women's attention and interest effortlessly. Her sisters had been more sweet in their charms though. Sylvanas never had any doubt as to what went on in behind people's lascivious eyes.

She had not been to a ball since she'd become a banshee… she had almost forgotten how much other people's lust affected her, when she let it. As she began circulating around the room on the arm of her 'father,' she allowed her body to react as it wanted: she felt her nipples tighten under her bodice, her nostrils flaring as she scented the pheromones in the air mingling with various perfumes, and under her skirts her quim fluttered and grew damp.

How delicious. Perhaps she should find a convenient cock to suck tonight, or ride. She had not had a chance for play since that Alliance prisoner in Northrend. The dwarf had had a remarkably skilled tongue and a beard that scratched her thighs wonderfully. She had let him die with a smile on his face; after all, service like that deserved a reward.

She smiled at a group of men as she passed and felt their collective gaze settle on her breasts and the sway of her hips.

Yes, she thought as her mouth watered and her thighs became wet, a cock would be lovely. Perhaps someone from SI:7, or a high ranking noble or priest, someone with valuable information they could be persuaded to part with through a good fuck.

Idly, Sylvanas wondered if the body she was currently inhabiting was a virgin.

"Emma, my dear," Grey said, bringing Sylvanas back from her musing, "I'm sure you remember Lady Carstairs."

"Lady," Sylvanas curtsied. She flicked her eyes to the pinched looking matron. Her mind immediately catalogued the pertinent details: cunning and ruthless with a large amount of ambition—but no interest in war; likely has a daughter she's hoping to marry off well above her station.

An idiot worth less than cannon fodder.

"Young Emma, my goodness how much you've grown!" Lady Carstairs exclaimed, giving a fake, sharp laugh. "I see that your holiday in Darnassus has served you well."

Silly noble women and their silly games. Do you not know I can cut you down where you stand like so much chaff? Sylvanas quirked her lips in a small smile, and watched as the lady's mouth pinched further in annoyance. "Indeed my holiday was quite pleasant. And how is your daughter? Well, I hope?"

Grey's arm tensed under her fingers. Ah, she was not supposed to know Carstairs had a daughter. Oh well.

Carstairs waved her hand in studied disregard. "Oh, last I saw of Tiffany she was taking a stroll around the room with King Wrynn."

Sylvanas did not laugh but did allow her smile to show some teeth. 'Tiffany' was it? How obvious, and amusing. However, it was enough for her to decide not to be caught near Lady Carstairs or her progeny as much as possible. While it was unlikely for her deception to be discovered, she did not want to risk exposure by being near Wrynn or any of his lieutenants skilled in magic. Especially not Proudmoore or Fordring. There was a chance they might sense the possession, after all. And it would be a shame to be forced to abandon this body before she was able to uncover any information of true value.

"And here they are!" The matron smiled widely over their shoulders and Sylvanas quickly schooled her face into empty politeness with a touch of awe—she would be meeting her 'king,' after all. Wrynn, along with a vapid looking young woman, came upon them.

The men bowed low and Sylvanas and the women curtsied.

"Your daughter, Lady Carstairs," Wrynn intoned, his normally booming voice pitched low and carrying a hint of barely suppressed impatience, much to Sylvanas' amusement. It appeared the king did not much care for parties. Or clinging women, she thought as she hid a smile and kept her eyes cast low.

The Carstairs women busied themselves fawning over Wrynn. Sylvanas glanced at her 'father' and the Mayburrys and noted that they were not inclined to present her to the king, at least for now. Perfect.

Wrynn nodded curtly, his eyes sweeping across their party cursorily. He had just turned on his heel when Sylvanas saw him take a deep breath, then another, his eyes narrowing in consideration.

Damn.

While she had enough control over this body to curtail her arousal as soon as Wrynn approached, she could do nothing about the residual traces already clinging to it as a result of her earlier indulgence. Most men could not sense it, but skilled warriors, as a result of the necessity to develop their senses for battle—like animals—could smell it: a woman's readiness to be fucked.

Slowly but surely she felt Wrynn's heavy gaze fall on the top of her bowed head.

"Lord Grey, is it not?" Wrynn said, not taking his eyes from her. "And who is this?"

Damn and damn again. Sylvanas had hoped Wrynn would be too much of a gentleman and politely ignore her. Trust the human to act the barbarian in this.

Grey cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, may I present my daughter, Emma."

"Lady Emma," Wrynn murmured and bent over her hand as though he was a common courtier and not King of Stormwind.

Sylvanas did not gasp as his large and callused fingers cradled hers, but it was a near thing. Apparently she did not have as much control over this body as she thought, for her quim tightened convulsively at his touch and—as she curtsied low and he swiped his rough thumb along the underside of her wrist—her clit began to pulse and ache.

The cursed human was expelling pheromones like a siege engine, all blunt force and no finesse. It was a pity Sylvanas had always preferred rough play.

"Sire," she replied quietly and rose, finally tilting her face to meet his eyes.

And yes, there it was: a man's smug knowledge of a woman's arousal, the answering heat in his eyes. Hubris would always convince him that he was the cause of her discomfort—though in this case it was largely true.

"How charming," Wrynn said with a smile, "and where have you been hiding her, Grey?"

It was impolitic for Wrynn to flirt outrageously like this with a nobleman's daughter, but apparently the king thought boredom a more dangerous enemy than court gossip. Sylvanas could not help but be amused.

Wrynn had not let go of her hand and seemed disinclined to. Sylvanas, sensing unwanted attention beginning to fall on their little tableau, smoothly let go of Grey's arm and shifted so she stood side by side with Wrynn—a less socially awkward position for them all. Wrynn shifted to accommodate her and Sylvanas took his arm.

"She has been studying in Darnassus, Sire, and is recently returned." Sylvanas could tell that Grey was confused but pleased by the king's inexplicable interest in his daughter. His eyes kept moving from Wrynn to her, as though taking in a scene at a play.

"Interesting," Wrynn said mildly, "I have not had a chance to visit our Night Elf allies for quite some time. Take a stroll with me, Lady Emma, I would like to hear what news Darnassus brings."

Sylvanas smiled at them and almost smirked at the shocked expressions on the Carstairs' faces. She allowed herself to be led away by the leader of the Alliance, satisfied that there was no one who could unmask her hanging about.

They did not speak as they slowly took a turn around the room, and instead they let the tension between their bodies wind tighter and tighter. Sylvanas decided to play the game, allowing Wrynn to take the lead, and let his arousal feed her own. She knew he could sense it; he would occasionally take deep breaths, as if savoring the scent of her growing wetter between her legs.

His arm under her fingers was hard as rock and felt wonderful to caress, and, in one instance, scratch deeply and slowly with the nail of her thumb. Wrynn actually almost stumbled when she did it. Sylvanas smiled and wondered if he would growl state secrets into her ear if she would let him plunge his tongue between her labia, or suck on her clit as she rode his face. Or perhaps he would prefer to fuck her with his cock, from behind or in front, while fondling her breasts.

Or—and here Sylvanas slanted a sly look at Wrynn and caught him staring at her in amused disbelief and reluctant admiration, as though he could read her mind and see her fantasies—he would like to fuck her ass while his large fingers became soaked playing with her quim and clit.

"Yes, Sire?" she asked, keeping her voice pleasantly neutral, as if she was inquiring about the weather.

Wrynn blinked and then quickly threw back his head in a sharp bark of laughter. "You are," he began, then paused, looking around them. Smoothly and discreetly he led them to a less populated area in the ballroom, partially hidden by shifting shadows where the chandeliers did not reach. "You are," he said again leaning over her, "a most interesting young woman."

"Am I?" Sylvanas said, subtly changing the way she stood so that her low neckline gaped slightly—the way Wrynn's eyes immediately fell on her breasts and darkened told her her dress had let him see her nipples, as she'd planned. She straightened, and Wrynn's eyes snapped up to her face immediately.

"You want me to fuck you." If he had thought to shock her with vulgar words, he was sorely mistaken.

Sylvanas simply shrugged. "I would let you fuck me."

Wrynn let go of her arm and leaned back against a pillar, lips quirking in a reluctant smile. They were well away from the rest of the party now and out of sight. Sylvanas could not sense anyone, or any magic, nearby. "Well well, is this what the Night Elves are teaching young noblewomen nowadays?"

"No, I've always been this way," Sylvanas answered. Truthfully, as it happened. She had always like sex. Enjoyed it, savored it. Took pleasure in her body's ability to arouse others' into a fever pitch. Her sensitivity to pheromones and other beings' lusts had been much more acute and developed than other high elves'. It made her into an excellent lover.

Sex was just one more thing Arthas stole from her when he made her a banshee… and it had taken her a long time to get it back. She thought part of the reason he'd turned her incorporeal was her refusal to let him stick his cock in her.

She shook off thoughts of the past and found Wrynn staring at her in frank consideration.

Ah, she thought, the loneliness of the king. She wondered if he slaked his lust with blood elf women and murdered them after. Gods knew an enemy prisoner was a safer alternative than a lover chosen from your own subjects or allies, for various reasons.

She counted herself lucky that the Alliance had so many pretty races to choose from.

"You want to fuck me," Sylvanas said.

"Yes," Wrynn admitted easily, "I imagine your cunt would feel magnificent clenching around my cock. But I don't really think I should."

Sylvanas smiled. "No," she agreed, "you shouldn't. And really, I did not go to this party hoping to have sex with you."

Wrynn raised one brow. "Oh?"

"I'd thought to find a convenient cock tonight, but certainly not one attached to the King of Stormwind."

Wrynn laughed. "I'm not convenient, I take it."

"No, I'm sure you are many things, but convenient is not one of them." Sylvanas was amused. She had yet to utter a single lie during this entire tete a tete. She was also surprised how almost palatable Wrynn's company was when his hatred for the Horde did not make his every word an idiotic bellow.

And in one moment to the next it all changed: Sylvanas flung herself to the wall, flattening her body against it as Wrynn drew his sword and swung at the intruder. She watched as the assassin—wearing the costume of the Defias—dart and charge at the king. The rogue was skilled, and quick, she would give him that. But still he was—

Wrynn parried a blow and cleaved the idiot man in two.

—clearly outmatched.

Blood arced into the air, spattering Wrynn's blade and Sylvanas' face and dress. The dark red stuff felt almost boiling as it landed on her skin, and Sylvanas felt her arousal ratchet higher. Battle always made her blood run hot, especially if she was denied a kill of her own. She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to lick her lips or touch between her legs.

A slam made her open her eyes. Wrynn had plunged his bloodied blade beside her head, his eyes burning anger into her own. He grabbed her arm and roughly dragged her across the room, past incoming guards—always late in any city, she saw—and past the guests who stared at their blood stained figures in shock.

"Get me Jaina!" Wrynn yelled, flinging open a door before throwing Sylvanas inside and following, slamming the door with a bang.

They were in one of the private studies. Sylvanas twitched her skirts around her and, after shooting the rude human a cool look, sat primly on a chair.

"What," Wrynn growled, bearing his teeth, "no tears? Will you cry your innocence to me? Or perhaps beg for mercy?"

Sylvanas wondered if she should kill him now. He would not be expecting any sort of sincere attack from a seemingly weak human woman and it would be better to surprise him before Proudmoore appeared.

But no, this body had only a fraction of her true power and an attack would likely be as easily deflected as the assassin's. She would see what she could learn from Wrynn and Proudmoore before she was unmasked and forced to abandon her control over this body. Truly, there was no real risk to her.

Pity though that she could not discover anything of true value during her time as a spy… or, as she'd told Wrynn, find a convenient cock to fuck.

"I had nothing to do with that attack," she said with disdain.

Wrynn laughed, sharp and mocking. He gripped the arms of her chair, bending over her menacingly, using his bulk in an attempt to intimidate. She met his eyes easily. He should not try that when she could still sense how desperately he wanted to fuck her.

Sylvanas had never found men in a rut intimidating. Pathetic and easily manipulated, yes; intimidating, no.

"I wonder what a fitting punishment would be when Jaina arrives and uncovers your lies," Wrynn murmured, his face close enough to for her to feel his breath. "Shall I send you to rot in the Stockades? Or maybe I shall be merciful and have you beheaded?"

"And what recompense will you give me when Lady Proudmoore confirms that I am innocent?" Sylvanas returned. "Will you give me gold and jewels? Or perhaps a dress to replace the one that you ruined?"

Wrynn chuckled, his lips touching her ear. "If you are indeed innocent, angel, then I promise to give you the best fuck of your life."

"So I am fucked whether I am found guilty or absolved as innocent? How wonderful for you."

He choked back a laugh and then stared at her for a long moment, his eyes moving over her features. He had the most peculiar expression on his face and looked like a halfwit.

"You…" Curiously, he raised a hand to her face, gently rubbing a spot beside her lips with his thumb. "You are..."

"Ahem!"

Wrynn straightened and they turned to find Jaina Proudmoore standing inside the room, a portal glowing softly behind her. "I hope I didn't interrupt?" she said in that quiet way she had.

Wrynn scowled. "Where have you been? Usually you're here the instant I call."

"My apologies, Sire, I was in the middle of a very involved scrying when your mage delivered the summons."

"A Defias rogue attacked me tonight, while I was with Lady Emma," Wrynn said bluntly. "I need to you find out if she was involved in the assassination attempt."

"Oh, I suppose that's why you're both covered in blood?" Jaina asked and then, with a wave of her hand, dispelled the blood from their bodies. Sylvanas tensed at the touch of her magic. Jaina's eyes focused on her. "I have a spell that will reveal if the person had spoken a lie within the last hour. As you can imagine, it is hardly the best test but—"

"Do it," Wrynn said, his eyes on Sylvanas. "Tell me if she's lied to me."

"Very well," Jaina moved to stand in front of her chair. Sylvanas focused her will and readied herself to drop the possession at a moment's notice. Jaina spoke the soft words of the incantation—a clever piece of spellwork, Sylvanas admitted—and a soft gentle light slowly began to glow around Emma Grey's body. It was pure white.

"Sire, this woman has spoken no lies," Jaina said, with finality. The human woman smiled softly at Sylvanas and it seemed, for just a moment, that her eyes became hazy and unfocused before she blinked and moved back and away.

Sylvanas regarded her warily. Had Proudmoore not felt the magic embedded deep in this body? It was possible that her possession was so absolute and complete as to be undetectable… but she had thought of all people Proudmoore would sense it.

"Your name is Lady Emma?" Jaina said. "A pleasure to meet you."

Sylvanas rose gracefully and bowed, gracious. She'd never held ill will toward the powerful mage. "And you, Lady Proudmoore."

"Now I shall, um, leave you to finish your business," Jaina said, blushing. And without another word she slipped through her portal and left.

The silence after the soft humming of the portal had faded was quite deafening. Sylvanas felt Wrynn's eyes on her and turned to him, keeping her face carefully neutral.

"I believe, my lady," he began, "that I owe you…"

Sylvanas quirked a brow, expecting some arrogant human deflection from this most arrogant human of all.

"…an apology." The King of Stormwind bowed his head low. "I regret ever doubting you, Lady." He did not raise his head but kept it bent for a long moment until Sylvanas realized, in shock, that he was waiting for her to forgive him.

Seeing the leader of the Alliance, Varian Wrynn, offering his neck in supplication, to her—

"Forgiven," she whispered, her mind suddenly blank of any and all machinations or plans, her breaths coming fast and hard. She felt light headed, almost giddy with power.

She reached for him as soon as he lifted his head.

She wanted him. Now.

xxx

Wrynn grunted in surprise upon suddenly finding himself holding an armful of amorous Lady. By the gods, she was the most lustful woman he'd ever come across. He wondered, as her hands speared through his hair and his own went straight for her skirts, searching for skin, what deity he'd managed to amuse, to grant him this good fortune.

Her kisses were hot and heady, clouding his mind and fueling his lust like a fever. He'd been hard for what seemed like hours, since he first became aware of her musk—that most alluring scent he'd caught when he'd first come across her, smelling of a woman wet and ready between her legs in the middle of a goddamn society ball.

She'd looked like an angel and smelled like a temptress. He knew, knew, even as she stared at him with those blue, deceptively innocent eyes, that her cunt would be slick and warm, would part like butter for his fingers, his tongue, his cock. She'd been teasing him all night, letting her cunt become that wet while standing beside him, knowing he could smell her, letting him see the peaked, pink nipples of her full breasts in the shadows of the ballroom…

It had been deliciously maddening.

And yet, until that damned Defias attack he had no real intention of having her. Even though nothing had been said, they both knew the rules of the game they were playing—they would enjoy their flirtation, let their lusts run high… then inevitably part for their own amusements later that night. She was an unmarried noblewoman, though clearly experienced and worldly, and he was her king; there could have been no other way to end the night.

But the assassin changed everything. The attack, and her seemingly calm reaction to the violence, had made his vision go red. A traitor, he'd thought, but of course; what else could she be, this succubus wearing a human's skin? She'd sought to trick him, to entice and beguile him into lowering his guard for the rogue.

For a moment he'd wanted to plunge his bloody blade into her neck. She'd made him laugh, and it had all been a lie—

But then it wasn't a lie. And now it was too late to turn back: she was in his arms, her hands burrowing inside his tunic and shirt, her legs wrapped around his waist. He would not be letting her go even had Onyxia herself risen from the depths of hell and stampeded across the room.

He widened his stance, holding her whole weight easily as she squirmed and rubbed her breasts against his chest. He kept his mouth on hers, sucking on her tongue—much to her pleasure, if her breathy moans were any indication—and reached under her skirts, feeling first silk and lace encasing her legs, then the even silkier texture of her skin. Her stockings ended mid-thigh and-

"God in heaven," he groaned, tearing his mouth from hers as his hands cupped the bare, shapely curves of her ass. The wench wasn't even wearing drawers.

She laughed, low and sweet, and nipped at his jaw. "You approve?"

"Lady, you have no idea." Her skin was so wet from her cunt it was almost impossible to hold on to her, his hands sliding over her skin.

She laughed again, which ended in a choked moan as she threw her head back: his fingers had brushed over her asshole. Immediately he felt her thighs become even slicker. Wrynn grinned.

"What's this? Could this virtuous, innocent lady fancy a little ass play?" He kept his finger on the tight, little pucker and felt it begin to twitch. He rubbed, firmly, but did not go in.

The angel in his arms gasped, her eyes slitting. She dug her nails into his shoulders and licked her swollen lips. "I did wonder, earlier, how you'd prefer to take me. Would you like to fuck my ass, Wrynn?" Her lips curved slyly as a shudder went through his body. "I'd let you," she whispered, "You can lick at my quim while you open my ass with your fingers. I'd let you fuck me over the table, and you can watch your cock sink into my hole while my cunt drenched vital state documents with its juices." She planted little kisses on his lips and Wrynn could do nothing but pant like a dog in heat, his body frozen in lust. She laughed. "Would you like that? Or would you—"

A loud knocking echoed in the room and the two of them stilled, the angel still grinning wickedly at him while his fingers rubbed at her hole. "King Wrynn? Sire? Are you all right?" The familiar voice of the head of his royal guard asked from beyond the door. Thank the gods he'd had the foresight to lock it earlier.

He narrowed his eyes at her smug face and deliberately sank a wet finger in her ass. She gasped, the walls of her ass fluttering wildly around his finger. "I'm fine, Gestus," he called out, keeping his voice steady and calm even as he began to pump in and out of her, as her gasps gave way to soft mewls and her eyes became dazed and unfocused. "I'm almost done with the interrogation and will be out shortly." His other hand found her clit and he pinched the blood engorged nub without warning. The angel bucked and buried her mouth in his shoulder as she screamed out the orgasm that ripped through her body. Her ass clenched almost painfully around his finger and he smiled over the riot of her hair. "Make sure the guests are taken care of, will you, and apologize for the excitement tonight."

"Yes, Sire."

Her arms and legs slackened from the strength her orgasm, even as her ass continued to clench around his finger. Wrynn pulled out—grinning over the bereft noise she made—and carried her to the desk and let her sprawl face down on its wide surface, her legs hanging from the edge.

As she panted into the polished wood and lazily traced patterns upon it with her fingertips, Wrynn grabbed a fistful of her skirts and raised them over her hips, admiring her bare ass framed by the blue fabric of her skirts and the white lace of her stockings.

"Mmm," she murmured and slowly raised one knee onto the desk, purposely exposing her cunt and hole to his eyes.

Wrynn felt his mouth go dry. "Fuck, angel," he swore, hoarse. Her cunt was completely smooth and hairless: there was nothing to stop him from seeing the white and dark pink folds of her labia or the dark, tight pucker of her hole. Both were obscenely wet, shining, almost dripping from her orgasm and their play. As he watched, her cunt quivered, fluttering, and then leaked more juices down her thighs.

"Isn't it pretty?" she asked, her voice almost innocent in its tone. She'd turned her face so she could look at him over her shoulder; the minx had actually put a shy smile on her lips and blinked wide blue eyes at him in pretend naivete. "My cunt, Your Majesty, do you like it?"

The dichotomy between the lewd pose of her body and her faux innocence was almost unbearably erotic.

Wrynn felt beyond mad with lust and this little slip of a girl was toying with him. His hands went to his belt. "Yes, angel, your cunt is very pretty." She watched and bit her lip as he drew out his cock—gods he'd never been this hard his entire life—spreading her legs a little more so her cunt was completely open to him. He reached his hand out then checked himself, quirking a brow at her. "May I?" he asked politely.

She wasn't the only one who could play this game.

She laughed, the sound like bells, her eyes dancing merrily. "Please, Sire," she said, arching her back to tilt her open cunt to him more. "Be my guest."

Wrynn sank his fingers inside her, his hand getting immediately wet. She felt delicious, the slick walls of her channel clinging and twitching around his fingers, her voice rising in little moans and cries. He made sure to stay away from her clit and as soon as his hand was wet enough, withdrew. The angel made a soft sound of annoyance and glared at him.

He raised a brow and deliberately let her see him use her own juices as lubrication on his hard cock. "I think I'd like to fuck your ass, as you suggested earlier. Do you mind?"

"Certainly not, Sire, please do as you will."

Wrynn considered the smug, knowing expression on her face for a moment. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed her hips. "I've changed my mind," he said, and without further warning, sank his cock hilt deep into her cunt.

She screamed, and Wrynn felt her cunt clench and pulse around him in her second orgasm. He didn't let her rest and finally—yes, finally—pumped his cock in and out of her in hard, driving thrusts. He'd never had a fuck this good; his entire world shrank to the slick, wet, tightness around his cock.

By the gods this woman felt like she was made for him, for him fucking her.

Vaguely he was aware of her crying out her pleasure in sobs, one hand scrabbling blindly across the desk while the other—gods yes—the other played with her clit, her fingers sometimes touching his cock as it plunged inside her.

He forgot everything: his duties, the crown, his kingdom, the Scourge and the Horde—nothing existed beyond this. No longer was he king or gladiator; in this moment, with this woman, he was just a man.

It was glorious, the feeling was magnificently liberating, and he sought to keep it, hold it for as long as he could.

He lost track of time but felt when she shuddered into a third orgasm, then shortly afterward, another. When he knew the end was near, could feel his balls rising and tightening, he bent over her back, his mouth close to her ear as his hips moved in quick, hard thrusts. He turned her head and kissed her open, panting mouth and said, from the depths of his heart:

"Thank you."

Her eyes snapped open to meet his—shocked and wet with tears from their fucking—and she screamed, her voice high and lilting, echoing around them as her cunt convulsed around his cock in what felt like her strongest climax yet.

Varian Wrynn buried his mouth in her hair and shouted his release in the most intense orgasm of his entire life. His cock pulsed in her cunt, filling it with his seed, for what felt like years and then… then, finally, it was over.

He had enough presence of mind not to crush her into the table, and managed to pull out—she gave a soft mewl at this—and stagger to a nearby chair.

For a long moment the room was silent save for their panting breaths, and Wrynn tried to blink away the dancing black and white spots in his vision. He felt light headed, not unlike almost dying from blood loss. God's oath, he realized with a start, he'd almost passed out.

When he thought he could manage to do more than stare slack jawed into space, he turned to the lady currently lying, wrecked, on his desk. Her hair was a mess of curls completely covering her head while her back rose and fell quickly with her still gasping breaths. Her legs were still splayed apart and Wrynn had a truly excellent view of her fucked open cunt as it slowly leaked out his seed, the white stuff staining her thighs and the wood under her.

He would have loved to put his mouth to her right now if he thought his legs would carry him. At the thought his cock twitched and he winced; it was still much too soon, even for him.

Slowly he became aware that his angel had actually fallen asleep like that, her breaths now coming even and shallow. He quirked a smile, charmed, and summoned the strength to put them somewhat to rights and gather her into his arms. Her face was heart wrenchingly innocent in slumber and Wrynn tried to wipe her sweaty, tear stained face as best as he could without waking her.

He took a secret passage that lead to one of the guest bed chambers. He had no doubt that the entire keep had heard them fucking, but it would be easier to demand discretion if he did not flaunt the affair in front of them.

He would ask one of his more trusted people to escort his angel to her home tomorrow, he decided as he laid her on the four poster bed. "Or," he murmured softly as he considered her sleeping face in the moonlight, "perhaps I will keep you for myself, angel. Would you allow that, I wonder?"

She slept on, and Wrynn laid a kiss on her lips before melting into the shadows and away.

XXX

Royal Quarters

Undercity

Horde Territory

Sylvanas gasped, her limbs still trembling from aftershocks. Her eyes were wide and unseeing as she sank her fingers into her quim, rubbing at the incredible wetness and her over-sensitive clit. She imagined she could actually feel Wrynn's seed inside her still, mixed with her own juices.

It was extremely fortunate that she had thought to sequester herself in her private, well-warded rooms during the times she took possession of the human girl's body. She knew she would be vulnerable to attack and had prepared accordingly. She had thought to keep people out of her rooms, but was glad for the precaution for during the possession of the human girl's body her own would inevitably channel strong physical reactions.

Generally, it meant that if she was injured as Emma Grey, her health would suffer too here in Undercity, though in a much limited capacity as that silly human body did not have anywhere near her own strength. Now, though, she discovered that her body will also channel intense pleasure as well as pain.

She had been truly stunned with Wrynn during the last moments of their coupling and, after that final, glorious climax, unconsciously broke the possession. To fall back into her own body caught in the grip of the strongest orgasm she'd ever felt was a shock.

Now she considered if she should return to continue her ruse. On one hand, she remained undiscovered and was still in a position to discover war information for the Horde, but on the other…

Bah, there was no other choice but to continue—she had not yet succeeded in her plan. She will not back down now just because Varian Wrynn can make her come like a bloody pulse cannon.

She will repossess the silly human body in the morrow.

There is no other option but success. She will do this. For the Horde.

XXX