Temptation Around the World(s)

Kim Moon smirked as she snuck in one last snarky text for the evening before locking her phone and slipping it quietly onto her nightstand. A part of her wanted to stay up and get a proper look at the Warden's undoubtedly heated reply when it came, but the hour was late, and unlike a certain frustratingly blessed late-bloomer, she couldn't skip nights of sleep and still expect to function at full capacity. Well, one night, perhaps, but with a war on the horizon, she knew she needed to rest her body while she still could.

"Besides, I need to be rested for this marathon training session, now that Newman has seen some sense on the matter. Two more days of this frustratingly slow progress. Then I can finally make some real headway. If I can just convince John to let me stay by his side for as long as my body can move, perhaps I'll even convince Father that…"

Kim snorted, giving her eyes a melodramatic roll as she turned over onto her side and pulled the sheets up a little higher. John's abilities were quite impressive, but she wasn't sure that even his unfairly fast growth was enough to convince her father of anything, particularly when her safety was concerned. The mere fact that John had seemed to impress the stern man in some small way during their conversation was more than most could ever hope to accomplish.

"Dealing with Moira is bad enough, but if John calls her stubborn, he has no idea what it's like living here." Kim tucked her chin delicately into her firm pillow, her body relaxed and her mind beginning to focus, working toward the restful, almost meditative sleep of a trained Slayer. "At least with the Warden, I can enjoy poking the bear sometimes... or all the time. And when she starts to run her mouth, at least I've convinced her to let me put it to better use. Particularly now that John has finally returned to us. Perhaps if I can outlast the two of them, and Moira is **** to use her healing spells on top of her usual Warden abilities, our break times together might be a bit more..."

Kim's body twitched, a hesitating break in her calm composure. For a short moment in time, a frown started to form on her face, and her muscles tensed with the urge to deny the indulgence. But it wasn't long before a sigh escaped Kim's lips and her hips shifted on the bed, one hand slipping out from under the pillow and slithering its way down her body, tracing the contours of her well-defined abdominals and slipping its way under her panties.

"No sense in practicing self-restraint, I suppose. If I'm to be at my best during this once in a lifetime opportunity, I need to ensure my mind is fully focused on the battles at hand. I'll need to make sure that all of my needs are taken care of in the next two days."

The justification rang hollow even in her own mind, but Kim's lips still twitched upward in an uncharacteristically pleased smirk as her fingers slid along her mound, spreading the wetness that was beginning to form and tracing her womanhood with practiced, firm strokes to tease apart her folds.

"All of my needs."

"Why that arrogant, shameless little tart!"

Moira glared at the message from Kim furiously, a blush of fury and indignation coloring her cheeks. Kim had been nearly insufferable in the messages she'd been exchanging with the Moon Clan's heiress since John had come up with his insane idea of a nonstop week of Barrier runs, and that was just in the private messages Moira had been sending to try to iron out details and temper a few of Kim's more insane thoughts on the matter—she'd long since given up on convincing either of the dense fools that it was a near-suicidal idea. The messages in the group chat were every bit as taunting and prideful, the jabs just as hand-crafted to irk Moira, but they had the added indignity of turning everything into a double entendre at best, and outright propositioning John in front of her at worst. And now...

"I can't believe she would even bring that up again. And what is this filth? Does that even have a... no, no, it does not have a crotch," Moira groaned, staring at her phone in disbelief. She could hardly bear to read the words; Kim had, in so few words, painted a rather graphic description of how she planned to use their first eight-hour shift change to re-enact their little tryst that had followed their last training session—only this time, with Moira in a very particular outfit. One that involved a lot of leather, and yet somehow seemed to cover less than nothing on the mannequin it was placed on...

Moira knew well enough that the Moon Clan heiress was only trying to get under her skin, but it was much more difficult to prevent it from working. With all the preparations for the upcoming war, the constant communications with the mercenaries that had flocked to Springfield, and now dealing with John's trademark brash decisions, her patience and ability to handle the absurd was already stretched thin.

To make matters distinctly worse, she'd spent all day today helping the smiths forge new enchantments onto their armaments. Their little sect of the Order had come a long way since the last time John had seen them in action, but they needed every advantage they could get with the forces they were now marshaling against. And that meant having a Warden to assist with the blessings and enchantments for every piece of gear to ensure that the Lady's full might was brought to bear.

"Can hardly even sit still, and she's picking now of all times to…"

Moira grimaced and fidgeted on the bed, grinding her thighs together, the slight chafing of her chastity belt far less bothersome than the burning near-itch that was building underneath it. Despite her indignation, even after she pressed "Send" on the verbal thrashing she had typed out for the lewd Slayer to no doubt ignore, she couldn't quite bring herself to set the phone down and try to **** her body to rest.

"...Can't believe she'd even suggest something like that. I'd look ridiculous. Anyone would, in an outfit that filthy and impractical."

Moira's thumb traced along the conversation, just happening to brush against the image, enlarging it to cover the full screen. It was little more than a handful of finger-width leather straps secured to small metal rings, the leather colored a red as bright as her hair, a fact which Kim had been all too happy to call out when sending the image.

"You can probably guess who this will be going on, can't you, John? It matches so well. Perhaps if anyone decides to back out of our plans at the last minute, we could put it to good use. A few enchanted D-rings and some extra padding for comfort... why, we could leave whoever that might be dangling until we return. It would certainly give us something to look forward to. And them too, no matter how much they might say otherwise..."

"Utterly degenerate. A-as if I'd wear such a thing in the first place, much less be left like that for weeks while they're off getting themselves killed." For a moment Moira's blush did fade, as the thoughts of what John would be doing without her - risking his life, fighting a war - brought out a worry that momentarily overpowered her baser instincts. "No, I'd never let those two idiots run off without me."

All the same, as her resolve solidified and washed away the anxiety, that left room for the lust to return.

"...Although, I have to admit... that would make their return even more joyous. J-just because they'd be freeing me of such a ridiculous restraint system!"

Moira had never been a good liar, even to herself, and her body shared that trait. Her free hand stopped clenching into a fist and slid along the sheets without her even intending to, reaching out toward the bedside table and fumbling for the drawer.

"Well, eventually. Those two are incorrigible. They'd probably leave me suspended there for a while. And who knows what debauchery Kim has in mind. She might well leave me up there for a day or more. Just coming to take advantage of me as she pleases..."

The Warden's eyes remained locked on the screen, completely unaware of what exactly she was doing until her fingers were fumbling around in the drawer and closing around the handle of a glimmering key. At that point, Moira finally tore her eyes away from the screen, glancing over with an almost aggravated glare at the tiny golden tool.

"...I'll not lose a night of sleep tossing and turning because of that girl's filthy mind."

With that, Moira's hand moved a little faster, a little more purposefully, and the sound of a lock being opened resounded a little louder than she would've liked in the otherwise silent room.

"Yvara!"

John glanced around the temple as he called out, searching for any movement in the expansive building. Not that he really needed to search—as soon as his voice rang out, the quiet temple filled with the sound of claws gingerly tapping on the stone floor, along with a fainter sound of mumbling too distant and too quiet to make out.

Yvara appeared a scant few seconds later, stepping forward from what must have been a newly sectioned off room. It had only a curtain for a door, unlike the elegant stained wood that was now in place for most of the others, and its walls were not ones that John remembered being there during his last visit. The dragoness hurried across the temple's main room, brushing her robes gently to straighten them out.

"Lord John! I wasn't expecting you so early, but you're always welcome here. It is, after all, your temple." Yvara lifted her skirt slightly to give a more formal bow.

"Yeah, sorry if I'm interrupting anything. In all the chaos last night I forgot to ask what you had planned for us to do today, and I missed you taking off this morning." John had actually been inspired by Aria to dig up a few of his old games and had gotten so caught up in a campaign of Eversummer Evenings that he'd totally missed the sound of the front door opening, but he didn't feel like divulging that part of the story. "I didn't want to show up late just to find out you'd had a whole day's worth of things planned and I screwed it up."

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Yvara promised, looking a bit bashful at the suggestion. "Even though you insisted this day was for me, I couldn't bring myself to come up with anything that would take too much of your valuable time. I apologize if I should have planned out more for us to do, Lord John."

"It's fine. Whatever makes you happy is alright with me, just don't be afraid to ask for what you want," John encouraged. He was, after all, staying mostly hands-off these days. The only one he'd had to get particularly pushy with so far was Shishun, and her devotion and insistence on acting as a living tool meant there weren't many other ways to get her to come out of her shell.

"Well, it's nothing grandiose, but I do have one thing in mind. It's not quite ready, though! I need a few more minutes to make sure that everything is, um, in the right place," Yvara said, tapping her fingers together nervously, her claws clinking against each other and the scales of her hands. "May I have just a few minutes to finish up? I won't keep you waiting long, I promise."

"Take your time. I don't mind looking around the place for a little while, anyway. It seems like you've been doing quite a bit of work, and I've been bad about making the time to walk out here."

"Alright. J-just don't come back here until I'm finished." Yvara seemed to blanch at the way she'd been so direct with him, and furiously fell into a set of bows. "F-forgive me! I simply mean that, err, I would prefer to present this surprise to you in its fully finished state! B-but as the Lord, if you wish to-"

"I won't barge in, Yvara," John promised, his lips curling with amusement. He couldn't say he was entirely comfortable with the reverence that Yvara and a few of the others had for him, but it was certainly enjoyable seeing the scaly brunette stumble over herself so adorably. "I'll wait for you to finish whatever it is you're working on."

"Thank you for your graciousness, Lord John," Yvara half-mumbled, giving one last fractured bow that quickly broke into a fast-walk as she made for the door, a trail of smoke wafting out from under the hem of her dress as she vanished behind the curtain once more.

John occupied himself in the meantime with a cursory glance around the place, taking in the new sights. Several new rooms had sprung up, most still lacking doors and a few with unfinished walls, but all crafted with the same degree of intricate detail in the finished sections that the rest of the temple had. His eyes wandered over the trims and inlays, noticing fine details so small he wasn't entirely sure if they had been in place or not during his prior visits.

There were what looked like ancient depictions of mythology everywhere, carved into shelves, into the pillars that held up the ceiling, even carved into the wood on the side of tables, deeply enough to avoid being scuffed while still clearly visible. The figures were faceless and relatively simplistic, but it wasn't hard to tell that they seemed to be about him, or at least the version of him that seemed to be prophesied in Yvara's homeland, real or imagined. The exact details weren't easy to discern from simple panels, but the depictions were quite varied, everything from seemingly simple portraits and depictions of life, to stills of massive battles, to almost biblical miracles being performed.

"Even knowing that magic is real, having someone believe so strongly that I'm meant to do all this is flattering. Flattering and a little overwhelming. I can barely keep things from falling apart every time I turn around, how am I supposed to..." John's lips turned downward, and he **** his eyes away from the carvings. It was one thing to hear Yvara tell the tales, but something about looking directly at them made John realize the enormity of her expectations, and how strongly held those expectations were.

It wasn't as if John didn't want to do great things, that he didn't want to change the Abyss from the awful place that it seemed to be. But John had spent most of his short career as a mage being told by everyone within earshot that such goals were so absurd they were beyond laughable. Knowing that Yvara actually believed he could accomplish such things, truly believed it, really did bolster John's pride.

But it also meant he had someone he could disappoint, someone who would be hurt by his failures. Not by loss or tragedy, but simply by facing the reality that he wasn't as great as they believed he was. That wasn't something John would've ever imagined having to deal with before he got his powers—or even in the weeks that followed. It warmed his heart... and sent it racing at the same time.

"Calm down. Yvara will always believe in you; her faith is more like fanaticism. It's just old scripture from wherever she's from anyway."

John **** his eyes away from the smaller details and focused on the larger picture, of which there was thankfully plenty. It wasn't all just rooms and architectural design that had changed with the place, either. The bookcases, both those in the small room that seemed to be the designated library and in the scattered shelves that lined the perimeter of the larger main room, were notably fuller than the last time. There were even more on a table within the small library, a neatly stacked pile that was high enough to clear John's eye level from the waist-height tabletop. He was skimming the titles when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching somewhat unevenly.

"Oh, there you are! I wondered where you went off to."

John blinked twice in confusion as he turned to face Yvara. "I said I was going to look around, didn't I?"

"Of course! I just, err, I called your name out and you didn't respond," Yvara said quietly, averting her eyes. She was standing at an awkward angle, something that didn't escape John's notice—she was leaning into the doorway, with most of her body remaining safely hidden behind the wall, one hand just barely opening the door enough to peek inside. "Forgive me, expecting a response merely because I said your name is-"

"No, that's not what I meant," John interjected quickly, feeling his face warm as it was his turn to be embarrassed. She must have called for him while he was busy brooding over the carvings. "I just... thought I might have misspoken. Sorry for not coming when you called. Is it ready?"

"Y-yes, all finished! And, um, it's ready for you to give your opinion."

"My opinion, hm? Some new idea for the temple, then?" John stepped forward toward the door, but Yvara tensed as he did so.

"Well, um, not the temple, no," Yvara said quickly, though her voice was little more than a whisper. "It's just that, I've been doing a lot of work around the temple lately, and- no, that's not quite right. I've been doing the same amount as always, but it's only just become a problem- wait, no! Not a problem, just, err, less convenient. Or, more troublesome? Oh, but it's never troublesome to do work in your name, I just-"

"Yvara, breathe." John kept his voice calm, but for all his efforts he couldn't quite restrain the chuckle that escaped him. "You're so cute I wouldn't mind letting you do that all day, but this day is about you, not me. Please, start at the beginning, and don't worry about saying the wrong thing."

"Thank you, Lord. Most gracious, Lord," Yvara said, giving a furious series of bows.

Something about Yvara looked different as she exposed a bit more of her upper body, but John hadn't been paying enough attention to note the exact difference before she was upright again and taking a deep breath.

"I've finally scraped together enough materials to get my primary uniform completely fireproofed." Yvara puffed up a little bit, seeming quite proud of that. "I've been harvesting the materials myself, with Orria's help, so I didn't have to use any of what you've been gathering. Which is great! Except, um, now that I'm not repairing the cloth every few days—well, erm, more like every day—it tends to get a bit dirty, particularly during construction work. So I've been trying to come up with ideas for less formal robes to wear when working around the temple, something that doesn't need to be washed for appearance's sake alone."

"That makes sense. I certainly don't blame you," John agreed knowingly, very familiar with the hassles of doing so. Once he'd cut himself off from the mundane world - and therefore from most modern technology - they'd had to move to a system where either he washed everything with Elemental Control and later Infusion, or else everyone was responsible for washing their own clothes in the lake on occasion, often while bathing at the same time, if John wasn't around to refill the tub.

Much like the air and the smoke they'd just released, John wasn't entirely sure how the lake always remained perfectly clean no matter how often they swam, bathed, or washed in it, but he was eternally grateful for that. Things would have gotten much less hygienic in the past year otherwise...

"But why did you need ideas for what to make? Wasn't that something that they had back in your world?"

"Oh, yes! But there isn't a great deal of construction work done in the temples by attendants once the primary construction is finished, and I was rarely present for that," Yvara explained quickly. "I did see a few of the outfits on occasion, but only stored in closets, or during visitation between temples. I can only recreate what I can recall, and my memories of those outfits are too few and too blurred by time to recreate them properly. I thought that rather than risk dishonoring them with paltry replicas, it would be better to create something new."

"I like the idea. And I assume you want my input for approval on the outfits, since they'll be an 'official' part of the temple's wardrobe, then?" Yvara nodded eagerly, confirming John's guess. "And... are you wearing the outfit right now?"

Yvara's cheeks began to shift to match her scales, though a soft smile began to appear on her face as she reacted.

"Y-yes. I wanted you to see it as it should be worn, in case that changed your mind. I have to admit, it's rather embarrassing, but I think you'll like it all the same. I found some images on your computer that inspired the design. It took me a while to-"

"What images?" John asked, a knowing feeling creeping into him.

"Oh? Um, if I recall correctly, they were located in a folder labeled 'Homework'. I assumed that you'd been coming up with ideas for your future servants and worshipers to wear while servicing your quarters. Was that incorrect?"

John's stomach dropped. He cursed his stupid, cliche teenage self. Had he really forgotten such an obvious folder when scrubbing his drive?

"M-maybe," John said noncommittally. He didn't actually remember what had been in that not-so-cleverly named folder. Well, Yvara didn't seem particularly embarrassed, so it must have been one of his tamer collections, at least... "It's an old folder, I don't remember exactly why I was gathering all those. But whatever the reason, I don't mind you using them for inspiration. If, erm, you didn't mind seeing them."

"Not at all! They were quite beautiful," Yvara said, nodding. "I tried to find more examples using the internet, as you showed us, but nothing came up until I separated it into two words and added 'outfit'. Then I found all sorts of images! S-some were a bit less professional than I would have liked... but I was able to put together one of the more practical outfits with some slight alterations!"

Yvara stepped forward proudly, brushing aside the curtain and finally revealing herself below the neckline.

"Is this suitable for a temple worker's dress, Lord John?"