Intrepid Pawns Ch. 13

After the long and dangerous trek through the Evergreen Forest, Brist had almost forgotten how good it felt to plunge his head beneath the surface of clean, non-drugged autumn meltwater and let his curly bleached-white hair be swept from his eyes by the ferocity of the flow.

Unfortunately, he had completely forgotten how terrible it felt.

He burst out of the frigid water and fell backward, gasping for breath. "C-cold!" he stammered, clutching his chest at the shivers ricketing through him, a gentle but very unwelcome breeze clawing at his drenched face.

"Well, of course it's cold!" Ia giggle, dropping into a spiderlike crouch atop her riverstone. The lithe, dark-eyed knight cupped some water in her hands—even from across the fast-flowing creek, Brist could see goosebumps forming on her pale arms—and splashed herself. Her face went a rosy pink, and she frantically pawed at her face as if to wipe the water away. "Brrr! Jakingill's broken crown, holy shit that's cold!"

Brist couldn't help but laugh, even as he shivered. "But it feels better, doesn't it? It's—" He clutched himself tightly as a particularly strong gust of wind sent a harsh, almost painful shiver through him. "Bracing!" he managed.

"'Bracing.'" Ia rolled her eyes. "I guess it's got a sorta clearing effect. Good to wake you up." She hopped over to join Brist on the banks. "But I'm basically a lizard, so I'd rather be in a fleece den than cold."

Brist carefully avoided her eyes. This wasn't easy. Her dark, pretty eyes glittered up at him like the river stones below them.

The knights were just barely outside of the Evergreen Forest—the Evergreen shied away for the most part from the coastline, and here, in the shadows of the somewhat unimpressive Coastal Range, all that grew were scruby birch and aspen trees, and the occasional fir or pine. Compared to the Evergreen Forest—a lush, enchanted paradise of deciduous trees and brilliant blossoms and delectable fruits—this was a desert of grays and browns and dull greens. But that bareness was a relief after even a brief trek through the infamous Western Evergreen.

Ia shivered noticeably, sliding a bit closer to Brist. Brist bit his lip, unable to help but slide closer as well, putting an arm over his fellow Silver Knight. She wriggled and leaned closer, and before Brist quite knew what was happening, she was pressed up against him.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. But he felt warmer now. Especially his cheeks.

He sat down on the protruding root of an old cedar, and Ia made a sound—almost a happy hum—as she sat down beside him and somehow nuzzled in closer still. She was smiling now, and Brist's heart rate sped up as he realized how nice it was to see her smile.

Her head rested against his chest, and he wondered if she could feel that very heart rate. From her fond smile, he could almost imagine she knew.

The events of the night before were a haze. A sweet, blurry haze. They'd talked. She'd kissed him. They'd... had a moment together. But were they together now? It certainly felt like they were.

Brist had never been with anyone before—he'd barely even dated. Now Ia, the knight who drove him out of his mind with her juvenile antics and insufferable teasing, was practically curling up in his lap, humming sweetly as she listened to his heart beat.

Brist swallowed, looking down at her, and found himself lost in her smile. How had he never realized how beautiful she was? How supple and graceful her athletic body, how sharply her jet-black hair, so wild and untamed, contrasted with her peachy-pale skin. How big her smile was, and how her dark lashes fluttered ever-so-slightly as she cuddled against him, her pretty voice coming out in a soft half-hummed lullaby...

She was lovely. She was perfect. And she felt so... so good, as her hand drifted down towards his lap, her sweet humming echoing in his ear...

"Wow," piped up a vaguely familiar voice, "look at you two! Sooo cute!"

Ia's eyes opened, and she quickly pulled away her hand and straightened. Brist nearly sprang up in surprise, feeling his cheeks burning like metal plates left in the sun as he looked around for the source of the voice.

A pale, freckled brunette catgirl sprang down from a nearby tree branch, landing noiselessly upon the riverbank in perfect pose. She wore only a pair of loose-fitting leggings and a large sweater that Brist was pretty sure belonged to Trys. Her hands didn't quite reach the sleeves, and she paused to pull the sleeves down as she straightened and smiled indulgently. "Sorry if I startled you!" she sang, looking about as sorry as a squirrel caught in the bird feeder. She swung a hip to the side and rested a hand upon it in a playful, energetic pose. "You two are just the cuuuutest kittens I've ever seen!"

Ia brushed some hair from her eyes, biting her lip. Brist coughed. "Um... Mew, was it?"

"Morrowii!" the catgirl declared proudly, her chestnut tail flicking behind her, her perky catlike ears pricked up to full attention. "But my friends call me Mew." She smiled slyly. "And we're friends, aren't we?"

"Um..."

"Of course we are!" Mew squealed, hurrying up and clasping Ia's and Brist's hands together in hers. She beamed down at them. "We're gonna save your city, right? Cutiepies?"

It took Brist a moment to realize she was trying to name the city as she blinked innocent down a them both. "Enterprise," he mumbled. Her brilliant gold-streaked green eyes were piercing, as if they could see every single bone in his body, spot every little flutter in his stomach.

"Yup, that too! We're all one big happy family now!" Mew released their hands and turned towards the creek, a finger to her lip as she considered the flow. "Oh, dear. That looks cold."

"It's meltwater," Ia said, smiling nervously.

"But it's fall!"

"A lot of warm air hits the coastline from the north in the fall," Brist said, earnestly startled. That was something every local of the area learned—even a Tower Mage like him. How did a druidess not know it?

"Hmph. I guess that's something a farmer would know." Mew pouted. The catgirl was frowning down at the creek. "Iwanted to take a bath, so I could smell all nice and clean for my hone—for, um, Yathi, but now..."

Yathi. Despite how nice Ia felt pressed against him, Brist felt a strange pang of jealousy run through him.

"I thought you were with Trys?" Ia asked, looking similarly cross.

"Oh!" Mew turned around, blinking. Her face went red. "W-Well, Trys is fun..." She drew her toes idly through the dirt, "... but Yathi is... well...you know." She winked, then turned back to the creek.

Brist did know. And from the way Ia was chewing her bottom lip, Ia did, too. Everyone wanted Yathi. Even fey, it seemed.

Mew was leaning over the edge, peering into the frigid flow, presenting her ass to the two onlookers.

A strange, delightful thought struck Brist then. He glanced at Ia, who was biting her lip, her eyes glinting with mischief as the catgirl leaned even further. Their eyes met.

And as one, the two rose up to shove the catgirl into the creek.

Instead, at that moment, the part of the dirt bank Mew was standing on gave way, and the catgirl fell with a strangled shriek—and a considerable splash.

Brist blinked.

Ia blinked.

"Well, that works," he murmured. Ia shot him a sly grin. A disarming, mischievous smile.

And as the catgirl mewled and complained at the chill, Brist found himself being seated back onto the root, back into Ia's cuddling embrace.

His mind felt strangely fuzzy. It... certainly felt like they were together now. If only he could remember the events of last night more clearly.

Her finger traced spirals over his growing bulge, and his heart started to race. If only.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Yathi!" called a sugary-sweet voice, making Yathi jump and nearly drop her clippers. "Oh, Yaaaaathiiiii!"

Yathi bit her lip. All it now took, it seemed, was the sound of Mew's voice to have her face blushing hotter than two summer lovers. The catgirl was calling her, and it took all of Yathi's strength not to whimper back a reply.

And Mew would hear it. The catgirl had no doubt enhanced her hearing, as catgirls could, to hear even the softest sound Yathi made. The faintest crunch of a leaf. The littlest, most pathetic whine. Perhaps even the dripping of milk as Yathi started fondling her breasts, remembering how good it would feel to hear the word honeycow pour into her ears as Mew pawed and licked and suckled her to brainless obedient bliss...

She shook her head furiously and worked quicker. She didn't have much time to gather as much as she could. Mew would no doubt find her any second now—especially if she'd also enhanced her sense of smell, and could smell how wet Yathi was getting just imagining being found, could smell Yathi's blouse still stained with honey-sweetened milk...

"Yaaaathi," Mew called, and the voice sounded a bit more sly now. "Yathi, are you there? You know it's not safe for... someone like you to be alone. You'll be much safer with your lovely kitty to protect you. Your lovely... obedient... thirsty kitty."

Mew's laughter echoed in Yathi's ears as Yathi covered her mouth with a hand, barely muffling her moan. She and Mew both knew that all Mew had to say was honeycow, and Yathi would start lactating, start begging.

Yathi couldn't believe how far she'd already fallen. After years of struggle—dying her hair black just to keep her natural blonde hair from attracting extra attention in a city obsessed with the blonde bombshell Thriae, rising in the ranks of the Silver Knights while constantly avoiding, and very rarely taking advantage of, attentions from her peers, her senior officers, her subordinates—to be captured by the Thriae and turned into a honey-tainted harlot in... a day? Two days?

Addiction was bad enough. She could deal with addiction. But now to be addicted to a creature who should have been addicted to her—a meadchaser catgirl who couldn't get enough of her milk, her pussy, even her kisses, a honey addict who should have been reduced to begging Yathi for every taste—it was almost too much to bear.

But it felt so good. So horribly, deliciously, stickily good. Mew knew just how to touch her, kiss her, suckle her, lick her—just how to drink her deep and keep Yathi happy. Keep Yathi content. Keep Yathi obedient.

Yathi nearly cut herself as she clipped and hurriedly stowed the last sprig into her satchel, along with the shears. Her breaths were coming in hot and heavy as her head spun with clouds of honey, imagining Mew catching her any second now, clutching her, forcing her to beg for Mew's sweet, sweet suckling... forcing her little honeycow to submit...

After all these years, to be so close to giving in now. Yathi inwardly cursed her own beauty, the perfect, buxom yet fit and toned figure, gorgeous plump red-violet lips, beautiful thick lashes and deep green eyes—steadily turning to a wheatfield-gold from her ongoing sugary corruption by the wasp fey—her pert bubble butt, her heavy, heaving breasts that felt so constrained in this blouse, so desperate for attention...

"Yaaaaathiii," Mew sang. "Sweetie, where'd you go?"

Yathi swallowed and rose to a crouching position, looking around for signs of danger. Her fellow knights seemed confident that they were 'out of the woods,' but Yathi was a seasoned scout, and she knew how arbitrary the line between Evergreen Forest and the rest of the world really was, how easily that line could shift. Nowhere was safe until you were back in the village. And Yathi hadn't been back to her hometown in years. Enterprise was home now, and it was never, ever truly safe anymore.

"Yathi?"

Yathi nearly jumped straight out of her pants—and more seriously, nearly dropped her satchel as she was buttoning it shut—as she whirled to see Trys. The tall, statuesque blonde beauty was frowning down at her, her eyes darting from side to side to betray some nervousness.

"Trys," Yathi mumbled, rising to her feet. "Do you reckon, um..."

"Mew's looking in the complete wrong direction," Trys promised with a slight smile. "She fell in the creek, so her ears aren't manipulating her senses right. You know how catgirl magic is. It's very finicky."

"Ah. Right." Yathi nodded, slinging her satchel over her shoulder. "Surprised she ain't seeking you out. Reckoned you were her main favorite."

"R-Right." Trys glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip. Yathi could make out equal parts guilty relief and needy envy in those pretty golden eyes. "Well, I think... I think she'd like to find either of us, but you seem to have... made an impression."

"Ha." Yathi gave a short laugh. "That's a tale I hear a lot."

"How are you doing?"

"How are you doing?" Yathi didn't mean for her tone to sound as sharp as it did. She kicked the ground lightly, avoiding Trys's eyes. "I mean, as to say... you've been on this stuff longer than me. The mead. Now with all this... I mean, bringin' Mew along definitely ain't gonna end well."

"It might." Trys shrugged uncertainly. "She'll be hard to get rid of."

"Could knife her."

Trys blinked.

"Well, we could."

"I suppose so," Trys said, her tone brittle with unease. "But... a catgirl is going to be useful. She can dull senses, and her druid magic complements Brist's."

"She's not even been dosed as bad as you or me, and she's thirsting for it worse than anyone." Yathi folded her arms. "She'll sell us out for a drop."

"Yes," Trys agreed, surprising Yathi slightly with her ease. "But... well, a catgirl can keep the Thriae busy better than, say, Brist. You know how High Fey can be about catgirls. Especially needy ones."

Needy. Despite her best efforts, Yathi couldn't suppress a shiver. "Seems like you're... coming up with excuses. To keep her around."

"We need every edge, Yathi." Trys's jaw set. "And I'd rather sacrifice her than one of us, if we end up... having to make a tough call. Enterprise is counting on us."

"Its investors are counting on us."

"Is there a difference?"

The mist was beginning to dissipate, but the dew that remained clung to every blade of grass, every low-hanging leaf or cedar needle.

It was a chilly autumn morning. The sun was only now coming into view over the peaks of the Coastal Range. Though there wasn't a cloud in the sky, Yathi could taste ozone in the air.

~ ~ ~ ~

"What were you doing out here, anyways?" Trys asked. She regarded Yathi curiously as they made their way back to the campsite. The scout was clearly cold, dressed as she was only in her tight-fitting, form-fitting leather armor. Even though she hadn't bathed in the creek, her hair shimmered in the morning light, her face pleasingly pink from the chill, her cute button nose glowing slightly.

"... just making sure nothing's been following us," Yathi mumbled, avoiding Trys's gaze. "Covering our tracks, y'know, the regular cautions."

"Oh." Trys looked around them. Aside from the creek's distant flow, it had become very quiet, as Mew had seemingly given up on finding Yathi—or had found them, Trys thought nervously, and was now stalking them both, waiting for the chance to trigger them into states of helpless, needy arousal. "You know... if the addiction is giving you trouble..."

"I'm fine," Yathi said stiffly.

"I-I know," Trys said. She bit her lip, noticing Yathi shivering, and leaned slightly closer. "I mean... even if it's not, yet... I could help."

"You're not the captain."

"Thank the gods." Trys giggled, and to her slight relief, Yathi did, too. She tried not to think about what a pretty laugh Yathi had. "I just mean, as in, I have meditation techniques I learned. I could teach you some of them."

Yathi licked her lips, though they didn't look the least bit dry or chapped to Trys. "That would be nice. Maybe." She clutched herself as the wind picked up.

Trys's heart melted slightly, watching the gorgeous—and capable, and sensible, and intelligent—scout shivering in the cold. She leaned in a bit closer, reaching out an arm. "Some of it is very simple," she said, swallowing a lump in her throat as she gently pulled Yathi closer—just to warm her up against Trys's furs, just to help her withstand the wind. "Very... easy to learn. I could help you."

Yathi blinked up at her, and briefly, her lower lip quivered, her eyes wide, as she leaned against Trys, and Trys's heart started to pound in her chest as she felt Yathi's soft, supple frame pressing against her side, resting beneath her arm...

Then she pulled away sharply, jerking out of the contact. "No thanks."

Trys blinked, her cheeks flushing. "I-I didn't—" She stumbled over her words, feeling like she'd just been caught masturbating in public beneath Yathi's wary, guarded, judgmental gaze.

"I didn't need it from Sir Okino," Yathi said, her voice quiet and dark and cold like icicles, like stalactites in the depths, "and I don't need whatever this is from you."

Trys's eyes widened. "But I—I wasn't—" Her voice was strangled, as she herself warred with her certainties. She didn't know what to say. Was she? Had she? She hadn't meant to—surely she hadn't, but—

"I know why he brought me on," Yathi said, turning away, "and I know what he wanted. I know what you want, Trys. I don't need another team leader trying to get in my pants. I don't want your help."

Trys trailed off, feeling like the air had punched out of her as Yathi sped up, hurrying back towards camp.

Had she been...?

Trys bit her lip. She'd heard about Yathi long before she'd ever met the scout. Heard about Yathi's issues. The gossip about how she'd gotten her position—the gossip about who she'd turned down, who she would soon turn down. She hadn't believed a lot of it. She hadn't been able to believe anyone could be hot enough to cause so much... disruption.

It wasn't Yathi's fault. It clearly wasn't Yathi's fault.

But Trys didn't understand why it was so hard to keep that in mind when, even stomping away, Yathi's ass managed to sway like she was dancing just for Trys.

She focused her eyes on the ground and hurried after. They did not have time for this. And Yathi was right: the last thing they needed was a team leader too busy lusting after their subordinates to do their damn job.

~ ~ ~ ~

Okino stared at the closed door, his eyes wide, feeling too shocked to even move.

It had all happened so quickly. One moment, he'd been walking down the hall with Minixi, his... his ally, a Thriae from the enemy hive who longed like him to escape the clutches of the sorceress Ytheri. She'd been teasing him. Tormenting him. Toying with his bimbo cock.

The next, they had been surrounded by seductive elfmaids, and Minixi had given in to their hypnosis with... barely any prodding. She'd just given in. Submitted. She'd made it look effortless.

And then the next, she had been gone, sealed behind locked doors with her giggling temptresses. And Okino had been left alone. Alone, naked, and horny.

Alone to do... what, exactly?

He had no idea where Minixi had been planning to go. She'd just been leading him around, a puppet on a string, a worm on a hook—a boy with his cock in her hand and her honey in his belly and her taste on his tongue.

So he stood in the middle of the dark hallway, staring at where she'd gone, hoping against hope that the doors would open gain and Minixi would stroll back out to continue where they'd left off.

Or at least that he could follow her through and save her.

Or submit to the four elves like the submissive bimbo Minixi said he wanted to be.

Okino scowled and bit his lip hard enough to hurt, shaking himself furiously. No! He didn't need Minixi's help. And he did not need to submit. With every submission, he grew weaker. More vulnerable. And when he was finally fully brainwashed, who knew what Ytheri would bother to do with a useless human like him?