De-stressing the Damsel

A single, three hour long second passed in motionless silence. John, paralyzed by bewilderment and shock, stared at Moira, who was in turn paralyzed by horror and disgrace. When signals finally traversed his unresponsive neurons and arrived at John’s consciousness, he let out a yelp of confused alarm.

“Oh, fuck! Moira! I was just - I mean, you were gone and - oh my fucking god, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to see, I… fuck!” John blathered out his half-formed sentences while all color drained from his face. His senses were still scrambling to get back into place. It was only by his final exclamation that he had gathered the wherewithal to tumble back around the corner from whence he came. Still, the sight of Moira in such a compromising, blatantly sexual position was burned into John’s brain. He didn’t need to look down to understand where all the blood from his face was rushing.

“AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGH!” came a cry of anguish from the Paladin, followed by the sound of something breaking and several dull impacts he could feel reverberate through the cavern stone.

“Pleasedon’tkillme!” John whimpered. Moira’s reply came in the form of a long, beleaguered groan that seemed to emanate from the bottom of her soul. No real words followed, only irregular whimpers cut off by short, sharp intakes of air. Her breath was shaky even when she could exhale. No punishment would come, not from someone as clearly distressed as she was. Never in a million years would John have imagined he’d find Moira unable to articulate herself, let alone for this reason.

Wait.

Realization smacked John out of his fearful stupor. In a moment of sudden clarity, he understood exactly what kind of agony Moira was going through. He knew the feeling. He knew it all too well, far better than he’d care to admit, and still more than he felt anyone ever deserved. Shame. Helplessness. Despair. Frustration with self and circumstance. All the feelings of someone struck low by forces beyond their control. Someone at wits’ end.

Someone… alone.

“Moira.” John reached out with a tone as calm and soft as he could muster. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew how he wanted to say it. He wanted to be the voice he’d always wished would have called out to him. “Are you okay?”

“No, I am not okay!” Moira snapped back at such a volume that John flinched. He could hear her words echo down the vast corridor she had taken shelter in. He couldn’t blame her; he may well have bitten the hand that fed him too, were their roles reversed. John gave Moira a little more time before speaking again.

“Do you need to talk about it?” he asked.

“NO!” Moira cried out once again, even louder. Her answer this time was punctuated with another impact and a sharp CRACK John could only hope was stone and not bone. John grimaced but, again, he gave her time while she choked back sobs.

“I just want you to know that I’m the last person in the world with any right to judge you.” He sighed quietly. He’d have thought, having been on the other end of this so many times, he could come up with something better to say, but no. He cut himself a little slack, considering the wildly unexpected context. Still, empathy won out. “I’ll be in the tent if you need me. Be careful, okay?” Without any immediate response, John turned to leave. If Moira was so determined to deal with this on her own, there was nothing else he could do.

“Wait.”

Moira’s voice came weakly, uncertain, followed by muffled shuffling. John stopped without turning. He got the idea that Moira didn’t exactly want to be seen right now. Sure enough, he soon felt a small fist bunch up the back of his shirt, below his shoulder blades. What he didn’t expect was Moira resting her head, cheek first, on his back as well. It made for an awkward position to walk in, but John didn’t try to adjust at all. After a meager whimper of affirmation and a nod from the girl behind him, he slowly led them back to the magically camouflaged tent. It was easy to find. John had left the front flap open in his haste.

Moira only let go at the tent entrance, stepping back so John could hunch down and step inside. He snuck a momentary glance back while he did. Moira looked dreadful, clutching together the open front of her pajamas with one hand while the other fidgeted restlessly at her side. Her eyes were downcast, and her face red and slick with sweat, tears, or some combination of both. John hurried inside and clicked on the small lantern while Moira entered and closed up behind them. He chose to sit facing the far wall, slouched forward with his elbows on his knees. Awkward as the situation seemed, John noted to himself that he didn’t feel that way. He’d expected himself to be anxious and high strung from the gravity and vulnerability of the situation but, as he listened to Moira settle down behind him, he felt a strange sense of confidence. Sure, he was plenty nervous, but it wasn’t even close to the crippling anxiety he usually felt in times like these. He couldn’t say why, but reasoned that one too many near **** experiences was a likely factor.

Uneasy silence reigned. John waited as patiently as he could, keenly aware of Moira’s unsteady breathing all the while. Conflicted between respect, curiosity, and sympathy, John couldn’t decide on whether it was appropriate for him to speak up or not. Fortunately, Moira broke the silence first, at long last.

“I should explain,” she said. Her voice wasn’t what John would call calm, but it wasn’t as shaky as it had been earlier. “But first I need you to swear that you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

“Of course I won’t,” John said.

“Swear it!” Moira yelled, but there was no anger in her voice. “Promise me that you won’t tell a single soul!” A moment passed before she quietly added, “Please.”

“Okay, okay, I swear,” John said. “I promise. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Moira sighed out in relief. “How should I begin? I… My blessing, that is, comes with an ever present trial of faith and will. What you just saw was the conditions of that trial in full swing. You weren’t supposed to see me like that. No one is supposed to see me like that.”

“Your powers make you masturbate?” John asked. If that were the case, he’d have little difficulty relating to Moira’s struggles.

“Not exactly,” she continued. “The more I use my abilities, the more, mnnngh, aroused I become.” As if in demonstration, Moira’s sentence was interrupted by a strained moan.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” John said. If that was everything, it wouldn’t explain why she was practically acting like a cat in heat hours after the fact. “Let me guess, It doesn’t go away until you… ‘take care’ of it.”

“...That’s right,” Moira said after a bout of heavy breathing. “It builds and builds and it never gets better.”

“Okay then, I’ll go take a walk while you get it out of your system,” John offered with a friendly, matter-of-fact tone. “You just let me know when you’re done and then we can pretend this never happened.” Publicly, at least. John knew he’d never get the image of Moira half-nude and **** out of his head. Regardless, he started to rise so he could exit the tent. Moira stopped him with an outstretched hand.

“It’s not that simple,” she said, once more **** back the pain of disgrace. “T-touching myself works but… I can’t.”

“Why not?” John settled back down to stare at the canvas wall once more. “Is it me? You can pretend I’m not here. I’ll go far enough away that I won’t hear a thing, I promise.”

“No, that’s not it,” Moira said. She shuffled to change position, and John was surprised to find that meant leaning her back against his. He could feel the heat radiating off her even through their clothing. “I literally can’t. I…” John could feel her hips wiggling. “I have a chastity belt.” Moira’s words came out fast in a now-or-never burst that she likely just barely summoned up the will to say. The atmosphere of their small, shared space shifted dramatically towards the sultry as John became more aware of the severity of Moira’s plight. He also chided himself for finding that kind of hot.

“You can’t take it off?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not without the key,” Moira sighed, “which is in my room at home.”

“Oh.” At a loss, John found himself inspecting the individual strands of the canvas weave in front of him. Anything to distract himself from the crux of the issue. “So what happens when you have to take a-”

“It’s taken care of!” Moira snapped, sounding much more like her usual self. John found it weird that being scolded felt comfortably normal. “You’re disgusting, do you know that? I share my most **** secrets with you and you immediately turn to bathroom humor! Typical.”

“Sorry, sorry! It just slipped out!” John instinctively began to scoot backwards, but that only pressed him closer to Moira. “Look, it was either that or ‘Why?’ and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to tell me why.”

“That’s correct, I don’t,” Moira said with a characteristic huff. Still, she settled down. He could feel her rigid posture slacken against his back. “All that matters is that I can’t m- do... that until we get home.”

“That’s part of why you didn’t want to use your powers at first, isn’t it?” John asked. He relaxed as well, actively leaning against Moira instead of simply being her backrest. She was rocking slightly, undeterred, perhaps even spurred on by the additional contact.

“Mmh,” she offered quietly, having quickly fallen out of her sanctimonious demeanor. “I was hoping to avoid this.”

The conversation all but died there, with both of them awash with the amber glow of Moira’s little lantern, red in the face and struggling to distract themselves from the reality of the moment. Moira continued to quietly rock, occasionally letting out partially suppressed groans, fluctuating between pain, neediness, and dismay. John, meanwhile, busied himself with pulling the pills off the knees of his pants. Just a few weeks ago, he likely would have exploded in embarrassment from the conversation, and his semi-hard dick would have been a full on raging boner. He was proud of himself for making it this far, but that didn’t mean he knew what to do next. Moira hadn’t exactly bared her heart to him, but nevertheless, what she had shared was deeply personal. John could easily use it against her, one way or another, but she trusted him not to. Him, the loser pervert. His heart fluttered across several beats as he realized the extent of what that meant. She trusted him. Moira, one of the most important people in school, the Abyss, and maybe even the entire world trusted him. It suddenly felt as if he was blanketed by an invisible **** that weighed both more than a truck and less than a feather.

How the hell did I wind up here?

“You know,” John spoke softly at first, as not to startle Moira. Meanwhile, he’d begun to mentally leaf through all of the information he’d gathered over the years of being a pervert on the internet, as well as that which he’d absorbed from the Kama Sutra last week. If Moira was going to trust him, then the least he could do was to make himself useful. “There are ways to cum without direct stimulation.”

“What do you think I was trying earlier?” Moira shot back, full of frustration and annoyance. She stopped rocking and pulled away from John a little. “I can’t do it. I’ve never been able to.”

John swallowed and gradually turned around. He was surprised to see that Moira’s pants were already halfway off again, but he didn’t let it shake him.

Here goes...

“I’m trusting you to not kill me for saying this, but…” John bundled his courage, bolstered by a bit of arousal, to be honest, and added, “Maybe you just need a little help.”

Moira’s head swiveled so slowly that John could swear he heard the grating of a rusty hinge. The rest of her body remained facing away from him, so that only a single eye peered over her shoulder at John, blazing furiously.

“You’re right,” she said through clenched teeth. “I won’t kill you, but I will hit you very, very hard if you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

“Look, hear me out!” John refused to panic or wither beneath Moira’s stare, but his voice still cracked despite his efforts. “I know a few things, okay? And this kind of thing always feels better when someone else does it, right? That’s what I’m told, at least.” John wasn’t sure if getting fucked by a sex demon counted as a valid point of reference. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just want to help.”

Moira's gaze drifted downward.

"That thing between your legs says otherwise," she said. John immediately readjusted his pants to better hide his burgeoning erection.

"That's not my fault!" he barked back. "You try sitting right next to someone half-naked and moaning every other breath. Tell me how unaroused you'd be." Moira looked back up to catch John's gaze. A little of the fire in her eyes flickered out. John relaxed a bit, but he couldn't hold back the fantasy of a nude, breathy Moira, slick with sweat and pleading on her hands and knees for his help. Was that a real possibility? He bit his tongue to **** himself back into reality. That didn't matter, no matter how appealing it was.

"Point taken," she admitted. "But if this is some misguided attempt to bed me, I'll have you know that better men than you have tried, and even they didn't have a ghost of a chance."

"Oof," John clutched his chest as if wounded, "that's cold. And here I thought I'd proven myself better than that. Nevermind, I guess." John's shoulders sank as he let out a deep sigh. He wasn't lying, not really, but John was playing up the hurt from being judged so poorly. It was a gamble, and something he'd never have even thought of doing before, but tackling Moira's stubbornness head on was doomed to fail. Better to take a more indirect approach.

"I- you…" Moira's glare faltered and she turned away once more. After a moment, she turned her body part way around to get a better look at John. "That was over harsh. I'm sorry. Please understand that, given my condition, I'm bearing a lot of stress right now."

John found that hearing Moira apologize to him felt better than knowing his plan worked.

"And that's why I want to help," John said. "For what it's worth, I get it. You're horny as hell, feeling ****, and some guy offers to **** you, claiming it'll be for your own good. Out of context I wouldn't believe me either." Moira stayed silent, only keeping eye contact to indicate that she was still engaged in the conversation. John took it as a sign to continue. "I'll admit, yes, I'm pretty turned on right now. You're gorgeous and all sexed up and so close to me that I can feel the heat of your body, but that's not why I'm doing this. You can't fight like this, and even if you could, you'd only come out of it even worse. And what will the Knights think of us if they find you so horny you can't think straight? Summary execution for me, probably. I have a stake in this too."

John hadn't thought of that until he said it, but it was a good point. He didn't know how many people were in on Moira's secret. Without that understanding, who would possibly see him as anything but a would-be ****? That was a sobering thought. Moira seemed to be thinking about it as well.

"Letting a man lay hands on a Warden is unthinkable, and yet…" Moira trailed off, pulling her limbs in close. Her eyes glistened in the lantern light. "You swear by the Lady and all that is good that you aren't trying to take advantage of me?"

"I swear," John said, holding one hand up and the other over his heart. "I just want to help. If you ever want me to stop, just say the word and I'll back off immediately, I promise."

"And you know this means nothing between us, right?" Moira bit a quivering lip as her eyes fell. She began rocking again, slowly and subtly. "This doesn't mean I have feelings for you, and… and you're not allowed to have feelings for me either!"

Not allowed? Ooookay then...

"Yes, I understand," John said, casting aside the insult he felt at Moira speaking as if she was in charge of his love life. It wasn't her fault, she was practically pent up to bursting.

"And no one, absolutely NO ONE will hear about this, ever!" Moira went on, regaining a little strength. It was enough to look John in the eye again. "You'll never bring it up, and you'll never expect this to happen ever again, do you understand?"

"Yes," he said.

"And if you go too far, or don't stop when I tell you, I'll break every bone in both of your hands! And no kissing!" she shouted. Despite the ferocity of her words, Moira was trembling, and not out of anger.

"You can break every bone in my body if you want to," John said. While obviously nowhere near the extent that Moira was, his synapses were also firing off a jumble of fight and flight signals. Still, he pressed on. "Doesn't matter either way; it's not gonna happen."

Moira set her jaw and tensed up, clamping down on her nerves. For a good while, all she did was stare at John, all but perfectly still. He wasn't sure if she was even breathing. The only movement came from her lips, pulled tight and shifting between several halfway formed expressions. John put everything he had into staying calm and waiting patiently. Meanwhile, a small part of him was screaming its head off inside his brain, deep in the throes of sheer panic derived from his uncharacteristically bold actions. It grew louder with every second of silence.

"Okay," Moira finally said. She abruptly turned around and scooted herself into John's unwitting embrace, his chest to her back. In fact, she snuggled in with surprising speed and ease. "I can scarcely believe myself, but I give you my permission to touch me. Whatever you can do to make this horrible need go away, do it." She craned her head up to catch John's eyes. "I… I'm in your hands."