Bending Githsteel (Karlach FUTA NTR PATH)

Lae’zel’s tent was closest to the fire, neat and rigid like everything she did. No armor now. She sat in her camp gear, cross-legged on her mat, back straight, jaw set. Her blade was laid across her knees, not gripped. Resting.

Her long ears twitched before I said a word.

As I approached, she didn’t rise or reach for her weapon.

"It is time," she said simply.

I nodded. "You’re sure?"

"I have felt it. The itch at the edge of thought. The heat behind the eyes. The parasite stirs. Begin."

I stepped closer. No resistance. She kept her posture stiff, but her gaze didn’t flinch from mine.

"You don’t have to pretend not to enjoy it this time," I said.

Lae’zel didn’t smirk. But she didn’t deny it either.

I slipped on the gloves—the twin-channel enhancement pulsing with soft light—and knelt in front of her.

Her camp shirt was tight against her chest, the outline of her strong frame obvious in the flickering firelight. Shoulders corded with lean muscle. Chest rising with slow, even breaths. Her stomach was cut like a stone relief—every line defined, but not bulky. Practical. Perfectly honed. Her legs were folded, strong slim thighs under soft-worn cloth, taut with readiness even at rest.

"You are wasting time," she said, but her voice was lower than usual.

I reached out, letting my fingertips glide along the edge of one long ear. The skin was warm, unexpectedly soft. She flinched—just slightly—but didn’t pull away. I traced the curve slowly, my touch deliberate, then mirrored the motion on the other ear. Her breath hitched, and she blinked hard, like she hadn’t expected it to affect her.

Then my hands moved—one settling at the base of her neck, the other sliding lower, pressing through the fabric of her shirt just below her ribs. I released a surge of Alluring Blast through each glove.

It struck instantly.

She sucked in a sharp breath, spine stiffening like a bowstring. Her lips parted—not a moan, not at first, just an involuntary exhale. Her eyelids fluttered, then steadied. She clenched her fists against her thighs, visibly riding the gentle warmth through her body. It seemed... milder than before, like a soothing touch rather than the raw ecstasy I'd unleashed on her previously. Still, her shoulders relaxed a fraction, a subtle hum of approval escaping her.

"You—"

Another pulse. I moved my upper hand, sliding it to her jaw, fingers curling behind her ear again. The lower hand traced down her belly, just skimming over the edge of where her trousers sat—focusing all magic just above the core of her.

Her back arched slightly. Her legs shifted. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard, like she could wrestle control back by sheer will. I saw her knuckles whiten on her thighs, but there was no overwhelming shudder—just a pleasant flush creeping up her neck.

"You enjoy this too much," she muttered through clenched teeth, though her voice held a note of **** contentment rather than the usual edge.

I didn’t answer. Just drew a slow circle at the side of her neck with my thumb, and sent another pulse through her core. Her jaw tensed, but her thighs pressed closer together. "Lae’zel," I said, low, steady. "Want me to stop?"

She growled, whether in frustration or surrender, I couldn’t tell—but she didn’t stop me. I let my thumb draw circles along the side of her neck while my other hand stayed firm below. Another blast surged through the gloves, both hands working in sync.

This time, she eased into it.

Her body leaned forward slightly. She sighed—louder now, throat catching on the sound. Her legs trembled faintly. Her whole torso shifted like something inside her had warmed, but not broken. She pressed her forehead into my chest and let out a soft exhale—guarded, but appreciative. A quiet, controlled noise that still carried a hint of her ferocity.

The glow from the fire danced across her skin, painting it gold as her breath came steady and even. Her body twitched once more, another ripple of mild pleasure running through her. She let out a measured breath, relaxing from shoulder to knee.

Somewhere in the distance—maybe from Shadowheart's tent—a faint moan drifted on the night air, low and muffled, like a sigh carried by the wind. I paused for a second, ears straining, but it faded as quickly as it came. Probably just the fire popping or one of the girls shifting in their sleep. I shook it off, focusing back on Lae’zel.

When it passed, her hands slowly unclenched. She sat still, breathing evenly, chest rising and falling. The fire reflected off her cheeks. They were flushed. From the warmth, perhaps.

She looked away, fists on her thighs, her jaw tight. Her body was still processing the aftershocks—small twitches in her legs, the way her shoulders wouldn’t quite relax. Her stare went out to the fire.

"This will keep me safe for one day?" she said.

"It will."

She paused. Then, quieter, "You may do it again."

I smiled. "I understand. See you tomorrow."

Lae’zel didn’t respond. I stepped back, giving her the space she hadn’t asked for but might have needed.

I left her tent quietly, letting the canvas fall shut behind me. The fire outside was little more than a soft glow now, its warmth licking at the chill of night.

I made my way back to my spot near the fire, but I didn’t sit.

I paused, feeling something still tethered behind me—a look, maybe. A thought unspoken. When I glanced back, her tent flap was closed. But I could still feel the weight of her gaze, lingering even through canvas.

Then, out of nowhere, a HUD notification flickered in the corner of my vision.

[Shadowheart: Corruption +2]

I blinked, staring at it for a second. That was... odd. I hadn't done anything with her since earlier. Maybe a delayed effect from our ritual? Or some glitch in the system. I shrugged it off—probably nothing to worry about.

Later that night, I settled into my bedroll by the dying embers of the fire, exhaustion pulling me under like a heavy tide. The rituals had taken more out of me than I'd expected—my body hummed with lingering magic, but my mind was foggy, ready for oblivion. The camp was silent, save for the occasional crackle of wood and the distant hoot of some nocturnal creature in the woods.

I drifted off quickly, dreams flickering like half-formed memories from the game—shadowy figures, tadpoles wriggling, Graz'zt's voice whispering promises I couldn't quite hear.

But sometime in the dead of night, something pulled me back. Low sounds, muffled and rhythmic, like stifled moans filtering through the canvas. They came from Lae'zel's tent, faint but insistent—gasps, maybe, or whispers edged with urgency. I stirred, eyes cracking open in the dark, my heart thumping once as I listened. Was she in pain? Dreaming? Or... something else? The tadpole, perhaps, stirring nightmares.

I half-sat up, blinking into the blackness, but the sounds faded, or maybe I imagined them strengthening for a moment before trailing off. Sleep clawed at me again, heavy and unrelenting, dragging me down before I could muster the will to investigate. Whatever it was, it could wait till morning. My eyelids drooped, and the night swallowed me whole once more.