Miniarc-Sleepover-1

Alana stared at the clothes spread over her bed with a pensive frown. At the start of the qualifiers, she made a bet with Lourianne Tome, her best friend and possibly much more. In hindsight, it was a ridiculous bet. She didn’t need the money Lou had put up for the wager and the noblewoman had proved many times that she was not to be underestimated. If asked, she could only say that her judgment was compromised when it came to the shameless woman. She always found herself doing things she couldn’t imagine.

She had made the bet and she had lost. As an honorable woman, she would uphold her end. That meant she would be spending three days and two nights in Lou’s home. And because she had upped the wager, she would have to “act like an adoring wife”. While they shared meals, while they shared a bath, while they shared…

When she made the agreement, she thought of it as a joke but things were a little different now that they were…involved, in the loosest definition. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered the night they confessed to one another. Lou had never made a secret about her feelings and, with her emotions running high from the events following Sebas’ murder, Alana had finally confessed her own attraction.

She’d been terrified to voice it before, fearing the change it would bring to their relationship. She didn’t know what she expected. Maybe for the sky to open and the saints to look down on her from Paradise with disapproving frowns. Perhaps for Lou’s charming and perverted but innocent demeanor to fall away, replaced by a more sinisterly debauched nature. To become the woman the rumors painted her out to be once she had successfully charmed Alana.

Nothing had changed. Well, that was not entirely true. If anything, Lou had become moreconsiderate of her. She had stumblingly voiced her reticence and desire to explore this new facet to their relationship slowly. Lou agreed, going out of her way to make her comfortable.

They were the same friends they always were, besides the knowing looks Lou gave her. And the occasional chaste kisses, but they weren’t even on her lips most times. Everywhere else was fair game. Her cheeks. Her hands, down to every finger. Her brow. Her ears and neck when Lou was in a teasing mood.

It was sickeningly sweet. And devious. How was she supposed to hold onto her misgivings like this?

Worse, she could feel a part of herself stirring. One that had been quiet in the cold, stringent Victory but had awakened in the presence of her uninhibited friend. The part that had agreed to their night out in Quest and had watched with rapt attention as Lou lured a woman to her bed with gold. The same part that had urged her to stay in their shelter while Lou was with that annoying woman from the Temple.

It was the part of her that was stifled under the traditions of the kingdom she’d been introduced to when her father, the duke of Victory, had finally acknowledged her existence. It was the amorous part of her that was fascinated by Lou when the other initiates in her group had rejected the summoner. And it was clamoring for more.

It would be so easy. All she had to do was say one word, no, give the slightest indication of her interest, and Lou would be on her like a hound smelling a bitch in heat. Maybe literally. Unbidden, the scene of Lou kneeling behind Cloud, the woman’s face pressed into the ground, ass up, as Lou—

Alana covered her flaming face with her hands and let out a muffled scream. “I’m not thinking about that,” she told herself. “I don’t want that. I’m not sure what I want. That’s why we’re takings things slow. Nothing like that is going to happen this weekend.”

The problem was she couldn’t quite convince herself. She would be sleeping beside Lou for two nights. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her friend, she did, implicitly, but it was a horrible temptation. It would be too easy for hands to wander, either hers or Lous. Or Kierra’s. She felt entirely safe with the pervert but the elf made her nervous, in more than one way. She could easily imagine things…escalating.

Hence, her indecision when it came to packing clothes. Most of her garments were simple clothes, baggy shirts and pants made from rough and cheap material. What she wore for training. It wasn’t exactly flattering.

She owned a scant few dresses, brought over from Victory, bought for the rare occasions she went out with members of her family or helped entertain her father’s guests. Along with accompanying undergarments.

The question was, which did she pack? If she took her training clothes, it might help to diffuse the tension she could already feel the day before.

But Alana didn’t know if that was what she wanted. One of her warring desires was for things to proceed just as they would in the fantasies she struggled to acknowledge. She could imagine the look on Lou’s face if she appeared on her doorstep dressed like a flowering maiden. And if…certain things did happen, the last thing she wanted was for Lou to lift the oversized shirt she used as a nightgown to find the frayed and frankly unattractive undergarments she wore most nights.

A knock on her door interrupted her ruminations. Relieved, Alana opened it with a polite smile, the expression becoming more genuine when she spotted her visitor. “Marthe. This is rare.”

The redhead huffed, her usual frown in place. “Dorm mother asked me to deliver some letters for you.” She passed over two envelopes, one plain, one an expensive looking soft cream. Her eyes flicked to the messy bed. “I thought the campaign didn’t leave for another couple of weeks?”

“What? Oh, no. I’m not packing for that. I…” Alana cleared her throat. “I’m, uh, spending a weekend with Lou. At her home.”

She averted her gaze from Marthe’s stare. “You shouldn’t do that unless you’re sure.”

“Sure about what?”

Marthe scoffed. “Lou may be a lecher but she’s a decent person. I’d feel bad for her if you keep tiptoeing around your feelings while sleeping under her roof. If you’re not interested, make it clear. Don’t toy with her to make yourself feel better.”

“Wha…” Alana swallowed her embarrassment and met Marthe’s permanent glare. “I’m not toying with her.”

“That so?”

Alana nodded.

“Heh. I thought so but wasn’t sure. Congratulations, I guess.” Marthe shrugged her shoulders.

“Thanks. Ah…”

“I’ll let you get back to packing. Take your good panties or you’ll regret it.”

Alana’s sputtering fell on deaf ears as Marthe ignored her attempts at a response while heading to her own room, shutting the door without looking back. The future knight closed her door with a sigh. Her gaze moved toward the bed again but she chose to open her letters first, eager to put off her decision for a little longer.

Leaning against the door, she slid a nail under the flap of the expensive envelope, admiring the smooth texture of the paper. An unnecessary expense but it had done its job of catching her attention, as she chose to open it before its plain companion.

The paper inside was similarly expensive. It even smelled nice. “Did they spray it with perfume?” she muttered to herself in disbelief, wondering who she knew that would go through such lengths. The answer came after reading the first line of elegant writing.

Hello, my oh so reluctant saint.

To no one’s surprise but your own, I’ve won our little bet. We agreed on one weekend. Tomorrow, I will send Geo with the carriage to pick you up and you will be returned Saintsday. Or whenever you want. I fully intend on making you wish to never leave.

“Pretty confident, aren’t you?” she muttered with a smile.

We also agreed on a few other terms but in light of recent changes, those no longer apply. I don’t want you to act with me. You can be as sweet as you like but I want it to be genuine. Or don’t be sweet. You usually aren’t and I fell in love with you anyway.

Alana lowered the letter. “How can she say such embarrassing things?” she whined as her heart picked up its pace. It wasn’t fair. Even the staunchest wall fell under repeated barrages. After a few moments to calm down, she raised the letter and continued reading.

I want to assure you that I’ll be a perfect host. Kii has also been leashed for the weekend. Don’t worry about a thing. If you want, this weekend will be as innocent as a playdate between two toddlers brought together by their parents. Good food, good laughs, an unhealthy amount of alcohol. A guest room is prepared if you want space.

Alana smiled. She couldn’t believe Lou was ever as innocent as the image she conjured.

Or maybe you don’t want it to be innocent. I wouldn’t complain if you came through my door, dropped you pants, and declared a weekend of debauchery. Sat your bare ass on my couch, spread those shapely legs, and demand I service you. Devour you like you devour my thrall’s cooking, with the same amount of relish, I promise.

Alana gripped the letter with enough force that she crumpled it. She swore as she straightened it out, face burning. She was half-afraid her blush would become permanent, she was doing it so much. “What the hell is she writing?” This was not how she imagined her first love letter.

Still, she continued to read.

Or, if you want, I can take the lead. Should I pull you against me the moment you enter and carry you to my bed? Strip you down and grind our naked bodies against one another until you’re begging for my touch? I’d make to love to you as a woman first, touching you in ways you probably don’t know you can be touched in. And that’d only be the start.

I’d make that stern and cold mask you wear melt with ecstasy. That sharp tongue that loves throwing those lovely insults would be too preoccupied screaming my name and shouting my praises. I’d fuck the strength you’re chasing out of you till you’re too lazy to even think about leaving my bed.

Up to you. Either way, I’m looking forward to it! See you soon.

Love, Lou.

Alana folded the letter with slightly shaking hands, swallowing past a dry mouth as she slipped it back into its envelope. Her center ached for relief, aroused by the pictures the letter had conjured, but she refused to do anything about it. She wouldn’t give that brazen pervert the satisfaction. Or herself, because if she did, if she admitted the pent-up frustration in the months she’d known Lou had peaked to the point that a dirty letter had her rubbing her thighs together with need, she couldn’t control herself this weekend.

Instead, she decided to distract herself with the second letter.