#flaming asks

"Yeah!" Wind chimed in, grin nearly threatening to split his face. "You look great!"

You tried to smile, but it probably came off as extremely forced from the amount of willpower it took not to fall to the ground, gasping for breath. Moreover, the others were just staring at you, which made the exchange all the more ridiculous. "Remind me why we're sneaking into the castle in the first place?"

"Because I'm a wanted here," Hyrule shrugged and it was a battle unto itself not to deadpan in his face. "I know Zelda will be able to help us, but it's the rest of the castle that's the problem."

"Uh huh..."

Twilight cleared his throat, seeming to break from whatever stupor he had fallen into when you first entered camp dressed in the ridiculous attire. "Ah get what yer sayin', but," he gestured somewhat specifically to your chest, and you crossed your arms over yourself, but the corset got in the way, unintentionally pushing your boobs up even further. "ain't it dangerous to go without armor?"

"I was thinking the same," Time joined the conversation from his place of brooding against a nearby tree. He had been quiet for most of the morning while everyone prepared to leave, and you wondered why it had taken him so long to pitch his thoughts. You tried not to bristle when his eyes scanned your form, also lingering on your very exposed chest. Hylia, what had you done to deserve this? "It would be dangerous to make you go without any sort of protection; we're not in an era without monsters."

"And that's where you're wrong," Warriors interjected, smile sharpening into something vaguely sinister. "In the right clothes, anyone can pass for nobility," he paused to glance meaningfully at you, "or royalty."

"I'm not sure whether to feel insulted or complimented," you said with the expression of someone seconds away from felony murder.

"Well, it's either that or a guard," Warriors shot back, and you perked up.

"A guard, you say?"

"You're really going to say that after all the work I put into getting that for you?"

"Wars, sweetie, you pulled it from your bag," you countered, and he rolled his eyes.

"That's effort."

"The fact that you said that with a straight face astounds me," you pinched your temples. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we're running out of time and I really don't want to change again--..."

"Oh, good," the Captain said in mock relief. "For a moment, I thought you were actually going to be sensible."

"Watch it," you hissed before turning on your heel. Literally, because of course the asshole had included them in the getup. "If I trip, I'm taking you down with me."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, princess."

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth or just Legend?" you shot back, ignoring the scandalized gasp from the veteran and joining Time at the helm of the group. At this point, he was the only one you trusted not to stare incessantly or make any smart remarks.

"Are you alright?"

You blinked, wobbling a bit as you struggled to keep pace with the eldest hero. "Barely," you joked before noticing just how serious his expression was. "I mean— it's fine, I would have said no if I wasn't comfortable."

"Good," there was a pause. A long pause. Was he purposefully averting his eyes or was that just your overactive imagination again. "You look nice."

Your jaw clicked shut, not because of the words themselves—you already knew you looked nice—but from the fact that it was Time himself who had said them. "I

Your jaw clicked shut, not because of the words themselves—you already knew you looked nice—but from the fact that it was Time himself who had said them. "I— thanks?"

"You're welcome," another beat passed as his gaze flicked over you once more. "I don't suppose you have any weapons on you?"

"I wish," you huffed before lifting the hem of your dress to reveal the dreaded heels. "Actually, I think these are pointy enough to do some damage... don't tell Warriors though, I fear his ego would never stop growing."

Time chuckled, laying a hand over his heart. "You have my word."

Time didn't know how much more of this he could take.

They had arrived at the castle nary a few minutes ago, and he was already regretting allowing you to go out in such an... outfit, both for his own conscience and... well, he'd rather not question the other reasons his mind screamed when you strutted up to the soldiers at the gate.

"Look at her go," Wild whispered as he watched you run your hand down a guard's chest from the safety of the forest line. "You'd think they'd never seen a girl before."

"'S 'cause they ain't," Twilight muttered from two feet over. "Not one of 'em."

"And you have?" Legend interjected with a raised eyebrow.

"More than ya, ah'd reckon."

Time had to agree. Time also had to stare when your hip cocked flirtatiously, wondering where in Hyrule you had learned to do this.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Wind asked, squinting through his periscope in an attempt to read your lips, and Time had an inkling to seize it for himself.

"No idea, but it's working," Warriors answered, eyes glued to the scene before him. You did a little twirl for the men and jolly laughter was heard.

Sky's face was bright red as he watched, half riveted and half scandalized. "I can't watch this."

"Oh, please," snorted Four. "You're just as curious as the rest of us."

"Still..." the Skyloftian had enough decency to look away when you pressed a hand to one of the guards' chests, lashes fluttering in a frankly spectacular impression of a damsel in faux distress. Time's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

"What happens if it doesn't work?" Hyrule piped up, tone high with worry. "We can't let her get arrested."

"We won't," Twilight promised, eyes flashing fiercely, and Time was compelled to agree. The only reason they were doing this is the first place was because a fight wasn't necessary, but the second it was... well, he wasn't sure he could be blamed for his actions when one of the guards set a hand on your lower back.

"We're killing that guy, right?" Wild asked with dark eyes, and a chorus of "obviously" and "yup" filled their hiding place.

Time would be lying if he said the situation didn't grate at his already tense nerves. You were strong—a fighter if he had ever seen one—but the sight of the guard's fingers sliding along your waist like a snake about to ensnare its prey did unimaginable things to his mind. And, by the looks on the other heroes' faces, he was far from alone.

You squealed suddenly, batting at your arm like a large bug had landed on you, and Time didn't miss the way your eyes scanned the treeline during those precious seconds, gaze sharper than any blade. Your eyes met and he felt a tiny bit better when your mouth quirked up, only to fall back into faux horror as the guards rushed to your aid.

"I can't watch this," Sky said again, burying his face in his hands. Time had half mind to agree with him.

"I dunno, I think she's doing great," Hyrule said, though there was an underlying waver in his tone.

Sky raised his face enough to half-glare at the other hero. "That's not the point— this is wrong!"

Silence.

"She shouldn't have to do this," the Skyloftian continued, looking seconds away from throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Let alone for us, of all people."

"It's her decision," Time said, and it was the closest thing to a lie he had told in quite some time. "We can't do anything unless it's what she wants."

"That doesn't make it right!" Sky hissed.

"Nothin's always right, Sky," Twilight added, though Time noticed the dangerous drum of the rancher's fingers on his knee. It was good to see that he wasn't the only antsy one here. "It's our best bet fer a safe entry—"

"Fuck a safe entry!" Sky interjected, unsheathing the Master Sword with a terrifying look in his eyes. "I'm not going to stand for this any longer."

And, with that, he began to make for the guards, only to be pulled back by Time at the last second. "Let go," Sky growled, trying and failing to yank his wrist from the eldest hero's iron grip. "Now—"

"No," Time rose to his feet. "If we're doing this, we have to use every advantage we have. What do you think they'll do if they see you marching over with a sword?"

Sky's expression softened some, though he still looked rather inclined to thoughtless murder. "Then what—?"

"Wild, how many can you take out at a time with your bow?" Time asked, and realization flashed across the cook's face. He pulled his bow from his back and nocked an impressive three arrows.

"As many as I can," the Hero of the Wild said with a wolfish grin, pointing the bow straight at the guards. You had already bent over for some innocuous reason, so it was laughably easy to take aim at the guards surrounding you—

CRACK!

—only for you to reel up at the last second, slamming the pointed heel of your shoe into the eye of the closest guard. Wild let his arrows fly at the same second, each one hitting their mark, and Time wished he had time to blink in shocked awe as the men fell around you, groaning.

"What are you doing?!" you whirled around to shriek at the treeline, still holding the bloody heel in your right hand. Wild emerged from the trees, grinning ear-to-ear as the others followed him. Your expression twisted in frustration as they approached. "What the hell, guys?! I had that!"

"We know," Time responded, and the glare you gave him would have killed a weaker man.

"Then why—?"

"We wanted to help," Wild interjected as you pinched your temples with an exasperated growl.

"Fine, but we need to go now."

"Right," said Time, placing his hand on your shoulder. You looked at him and scowled, but held your tongue. "How long do you think before they raise the alarm?"

"Long enough," you huffed, pulling something small and glittering from your bosom. It was very distracting. And question-raising. "Come on, I have the key."

"How—" Wild stopped himself, clearly torn between curiosity and concern as to why you would keep the item in such a place. "Nevermind."

"Good choice," you snorted, bending down to put the bloodied heel back on your foot. It's disgustingly cold and fits a little differently due to you stabbing someone with it, but you'd rather not walk barefoot on the streets. "I think this one is for the servant's quarters, but—"

"HALT!"

The group of heroes turned to face a squadron of approaching guards. There was a pregnant pause.

"We're going to need more shoes," Legend whispered.

"And you call me daft," Four hissed, irises flashing a brilliant blue as he drew his sword.

"Enough," Time growled, turning to you. "You have the key?"

You reached into your bodice once more and pulled out the key. Time tried not to stare. Again. "Right here."

With a stoic nod, Time removed the Biggoron sword from its holster, aiming it at the approaching men with a grave expression. "Get to the castle, I'll hold them off."

"But—"

"Now."

To your credit, you didn't argue, grabbing Hyrule's arm and dragging him to the entrance, slipping into the town as your skirt billowed behind you. It was mesmerizing, the eldest hero concluded, though he didn't watch for long before the men got too close for comfort.

Not when he had a job to do.

The ensuing battle was blissfully short, not that he expected mere palace guards to be any real challenge to them. Hylia, even Wind was holding his own against two at once, while the others tackled the rest. Sword stained with crimson blood, Time watched as Wild finished off the last soldier, kicking the lifeless corpse to the ground.

"We need to get to the castle before more guards show up," Four announced. "Time?"

"Agreed," Time responded, leading the group into the city. No one dared come close as they marched down the main street. The castle loomed ahead, as dark and imposing as he felt. The thought of you wandering those halls alone send a deep twinge straight to his heart, and it was only when they pushed the doors open did he realize it.

Time was scared for you.

He had always been, from when you first fell through a portal before their very eyes to now, when you had been forced to use your body for their goals. It wasn't right, and he applauded Sky for acting when he didn't. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have to make it up to you, but Time didn't dare consider the options. He had lived many years, seen many things, and bore the weight of his many sins. He was a warrior, a leader, and there was no place in his life for the folly of the heart.

Until he met you... and everything changed so inexplicably that he could hardly stand to look at you without wanting to gather you in his arms and never let go.

"Any sign of them?" Sky asked, tearing the eldest hero back to reality.

"Not yet," Legend replied cautiously. The main hall was disturbingly empty, splitting into countless different passages. "We should split up, they could be in trouble."

And so they did; Legend, Wild, and Wind went left, while Sky, Twilight, Four, and Warriors went right, leaving Time to the shadowy middle passage.

His boots clunked against the stone floor, ringing through the tunnel and reminding him just how much he hated being in the dark. The fact that it had taken them less than ten minutes to reach this point sent chills down his spine, but he was confident you and Hyrule could handle

"Time?"

The Hero of Time, destroyer of deities and mortals alike, jumped like a child when the sound of his name filtered through the dark. His hand found the handle of the Biggoron, nearly drawing it until a familiar silhouette approached from the other side of the passage. Time could recognize the sway of those hips anywhere, so he was only partially surprised when you stepped into the faded light.

Your name slipped from his lips like the finest silk as he rushed forward to examine your form, checking for any injuries. "Are you alright?"

You snorted, hands dropping down to rest on your hips. "I'm fine. Hyrule and I found the princes, but," you peeked behind him with a confused expression. "Where are the others?"

"We split up," Time responded, refusing to acknowledge the way your breasts rose when you crossed your arms under them, expression crinkling in mild disappointment. He was better than this, for Hylia's sake!

"For Hyrule's sake, Time, didn't anyone tell you not to go into dark passages alone?"

"Only once," he responded with a quick wink, and was immediately pleased when you stopped to stare at him.

"You're impossible." You turned on your still-bloody heel, and he had the astoundingly inappropriate thought to flip your dress over your h—

No, nope, he was a grown man. With a conscious that only yielded enough to allow the occasional deployment of harmless pranks, not to mention the self-appointed role model for a gathering of mostly late-pubescent young men.

Repeat after me, Time thought to himself in spectacular adult fashion, you are better than this.

A moment passed. The hem of your dress danced a few inches upward, revealing a sultry peek of ankle.

Sweet Nayru.

The Hero of Time came to the abrupt and startling realization that he was not better than this.

"I'm going to miss this," you mused after a bit of silence, glancing at him over one fabric-puffed shoulder. "Not the fighting, but the dressing up... being helpful."

"You're always helpful," Time blurted, managing to hide his burgeoning grin by sheer willpower alone.

Your smile was knowing as you sashayed down the corridor.

If eye rolls were audible, yours would have deafened him. "It's not my fault I wear it better than you, Champ."

This time, Wild's gasp was more than audible. You thanked the Goddesses that no other Links were around to witness his humiliation at the hands of your sick burns. "You wanna bet?" he asked, pointing one of Sky's carved ladles in your direction.

"Not really," you groused, rubbing the corners of your eyes for any stray traces of sleep. After months on the road, even the slightest semblance of a proper bed had you passing out almost instantaneously, which was exactly what happened the night prior, though you were also inclined to "blame" your roomates—Wind and Four, because they were tiny and reluctantly cuddly—for the good fortune. Speaking of... "...where is everyone?"

Wild shrugged, flipping a strand of cornflower blonde hair over his shoulder, looking vastly unbothered by life. You wished you had his confidence. "Old Man and Rancher left to do descendant things, Vet's sulking... and I think I saw your boy toy head down to that lake Sky almost fell in."

Shockingly, your deadpan was also audible. "Stop calling him my boy toy, it's disrespectful."

The Champion's reply was as swift as his blade. "What's disrespectful is that you two keep dancing around each other, but you don't see me complaining about it."

Oh Hylia, not this again. Still, you were an adult. An adult who could handle well-meaning conflict with grace and—

"I'm going to help Wind put spiders in your bedroll," you threatened.

Wild's second shrug was similarly unperturbed. "You can try, but I also want you to remember that Time returned my flint last week."

That... was a valid argument. Very valid, considering you typically liked your things unburnt. "...Touche."

"Atta girl," the Champion grinned in a manner that you'd be stupid not to return. When you turned in the direction of the previously mentioned lake, he called out once more: "Don't be out too long, there's pancakes on the line!"

Boots crunching over the verdant grass, you called back. "It's a promise!"

The walk to the lake was short and sweet, with just enough time that your thoughts had the barest opportunity to get away from you in the best ways. 

You liked First a completely normal amount—he was kind and funny, with a protective streak long enough to make any self-respecting warrior swoon—which was definitely why you were currently wearing nothing beneath the dress. Yeah, totally normal. The pinnacle of normality, if you wanted to get fancy. 

Low waves lapped at the sandy shore as you walked along it, carefully enough to prevent the hem of your dress from catching on a stray piece of driftwood or the link. You'd really be in trouble if it ripped. "First?"

There was no response, but you knew he'd come up sooner or later. They all had a nasty habit of appearing randomly from various bits of undergrowth, so you were quite used to being thown into fight-or-flight mode upon witnessing a Link crash-land through the shrubbery. 

About twenty paces later, your ears pricked at the tell-tale rusting of leaves. As if summoned by Hylia herself, First practically burst onto the beach, scarf fluttering behind him as he skidded onto the sand. He was panting, and there were leaves in his hair, and his face was red from either exertion or horniness, but that was just fine in your book. 

You grinned, cocking a hand on your hip. First's glance wandered down, then snapped to meet your eyes as he managed to flush an even deeper crimson. It was extremely unsubtle, but maybe you were into that. "Like it?"

The first hero's response was hilariously instantaneous, boots shuffling in the dusky sand and gaze torturously focused. "Yes."

Perfect. 

"Good," you laughed, taking just enough of a step forward to mime closing the gap. Hylia, you wanted to, and, from the look First was giving you, he wasn't far behind. This was hardly the first (tee tee) time you'd serenaded his pants to his knees. "Come here?"

The pause was as lightning-charged as you felt, and it took nary a second for your besotted beau to kick himself into gear and all but fall into your arms, lips pressed in a thin, controlled line as his arms wound down to rest on the tops of your hips. Something in your gut broiled when you leaned to kiss the indecision from his mouth and mind, only stopping to savor the salty remnants of breakfasts' mushroom and prawn skewers from plump flesh with the flat of your tongue. First, to his credit and accompanying boldness, returned the kiss with equal fervor, fingers running over the soft fabric of your dress in a manner that had you wishing to bite his lip until it bled and bruised or throw yourself back to give a sultry twirl. If any part of you cared that this was going down on a semi-public beach, it might as well have died the second his body molded against yours and a steady hand traced a singular burning line up your spine. 

Your hand trailed to grasp a chunk of straw-pale hair, if only to savor the feeling of silky strands between eager fingers, and, when oxygen became a boring and terrible necessity, have an anchor to tug him back, panting breaths mingling with the cool morning air. 

"You're wonderful," the First Hero exhaled. His hands still fiddled with your dress, but there was something undoubtedly primal behind the action, no different from the way your stomach throbbed with the urge to push the poor man against a tree and show him exactly how wonderful you could be. It was hardly the first time you'd found yourselves unclothed in a random forest. Sometimes you even considered it romantic. 

"I love you too," you dipped your head just so you could murmur the words against his neck, right where his red scarf and absurdly high collar gave way to something far more enticing. First's shiver was palpable and accompanied by a cut-off whimper most unsuited for a man of the sword. 

You didn't care. You loved finding the cracks in his armor and forcing them wide with soft touches and every other wonderful trick you had at your disposal, like bloodless wounds without pain or fear. You'd patch them up, of course, just as he'd pack your own with cloth and kisses and enough tenderness to be nothing short of true love. 

Your skin began to itch beneath the dress, and it was a feat unto itself not to fling the damn thing over your hips and have him scratch it, but you were nothing if not patient. 

Mostly. 

"I missed you," you accompanied the sentence by pressing a trail of warm kisses up the length of his jugular, wholly and completely ignoring the fact that you'd seen each other not even an hour ago. Whisps of fire burned deep in your belly, igniting with each second your skin touched his, like proximity alone was enough to mimic a dry match and just enough kerosene. 

Foaming waves crashed against the shore as First's head dipped, catching your lips against his own. He didn't speak; he didn't need to, not when you could taste the answer straight off his tongue and teeth, rolling between your mouths like a rising tide. You caught his bottom lip between your teeth in retaliation, digging your fingers into his scalp with all the tough love you could muster.

When you separated, it was out of necessity, not choice. An unforgettable ache had begun to settle between your legs, a reminder that life was short and you'd be dripping onto something other than the clumping sand if all went well.

Your gaze flashed over the hero's shoulder for a split second, taking stock of the thick forest laying just beyond, and it was in that moment that you leaned up, licked a stripe from lobe to pointed tip, and whispered in First's ear.

"If you don't take me in the next two minutes, I'll start cashing in favors," you punctuated the statement with a sly kiss just beneath his ear, eliciting a full-body shiver from the man before the hands at your back dipped and he was hauling your body up like it weighed nothing, legs wrapped around his surprisingly-slutty waist. Nary a second passed before the world inexplicably spun, and your half-bare back met the unmistakable bark of what had to be the nearest tree.

"Is that so?" First asked, though it sounded more like a threat than a question. His hands, already dented in the flesh of your thighs, tightened like vices. He was a freak like that.

You grinned, refusing to wince as the motion jostled you against the bark in a manner that was definitely neither recommended nor comfortable, and pulled the strands trapped between your fingers just enough to sting. "Did I stutter?"

His lips were upon yours before either of you could muster another snarky-sweet word barrage. The kiss, unlike others, was everything a man should be and a knight shouldn't, and you returned it with enough ferocity to be objectively sexy and appropriately ferocious. You'd learned long ago that he was a fan of people capable of breaking his scrawny ass like a twig.

Freak, you thought with all the love and care in the land, one hand sweeping to rest against his chest, flitting over the various belts and buckles wrapped around his form, wondering how much luck you'd have pulling them off one-handed.

Where there's a will, there's a way---

Your thoughts stalled when one of his hands released your thigh, and a voice rang true and rough and lovely against your lips. "You're everything but a good liar," he said, keeping unblinking eye contact as that beautiful red scarf was unwound from his neck, only to find a home on your own shoulders, the twin tails draping down to shield your skin from the ragged bark. "Better?"

"I love you," you breathed with as much heart as you could, only to gasp when he pulled your legs free from around his waist, guiding you into a leaning position before dropping to his knees with such finality that you nearly chocked, then tripped when your right leg was promptly manhandled to balance over his shoulder, hands scrabbling at the tree, the bark, the dress still swaying at your thighs—

"Can I?"

His blue eyes were big and hopeful and you were so, so terribly weak.

"Please."

The dress' skirt was promptly flipped up, and the First hero's head disappeared beneath the multicolored fabric. Unlike other times, he didn't immediately dive into lapping at you like the thirsty animal he was, instead choosing to litter ticklish kisses along your inner thighs. It was a nice sensation, typically reserved for when you had time and a half-decent bed, but you were never one to complain or correct unless necessary. It would be fine; a little teeth, a lot of tongue, and maybe some love along the way.

There was a certain danger in the way his touch made you feel like toppling or wailing or dying, just barely standing on legs no steadier than that of a fawn, lungs stuttering with conflicting, staccato breaths. Terror was nothing and everything in the embrace of your hero, in the few hours he'd steal in your bed before anyone was awake enough to notice. The soft bite of his gaze—before you'd kissed and touched and seen—over the burning campfire was a memory you would not soon forget, because nothing was more potent than animal love and true desire.

It was a feat unto itself not to cry out when his tongue slid up the length of you, slipping through overflowing wetness with all the grace of some innocuous, extinct wordsmith, tracing burning lines across every flaming inch of skin, until you were forced to muffle yourself with your own fingers, biting just enough to keep from shrieking your pleasure to the blazing sun and barren sky.

You were in love with an angel. You were sure of it.

First didn't pause, didn't slow, didn't speed. He took his sweet, wonderful, infuriating time—even though the subtle, on-and-off rock of his hips against thin air was more than obvious—and you couldn't have wanted him more for it. That, and the way his half-gloved hands gripped your thighs in a grip just short of vice, as if he was truly serious about marking you where no one would know and everyone would guess.

You didn't mind; you really didn't.

A gasp slipped past your teeth and tongue and fingers when something warm and wet raked over your clit, dipping back down to slip and slide at your entrance. Your thigh jumped against First's shoulder, only to be pressed back down by one strong palm, until all you could manage was a sorry shudder and even sorrier dig of your heel into his back. It was something. It was everything.

"Oh Hylia— Ah!" you were saying before you knew it, only to yelp when a stinging nip was delivered to your inner thigh. First's head popped upwards like a fish breaking through the water's surface, a sheen of slick wetness shining on his chin and lips. It was mesmerizing and you wanted nothing more than to lick him clean with your tongue.

"Don't say her name," he whispered; half an order, half a plea. Big blue eyes sparkled against pale skin and lightly-chapped lips.

There was no question about it. "Okay," you said, softly, willing away memories of your midnight-conversations concerning the Goddess. "It's okay, Link."

He was gone before you knew it, diving beneath the sunflower fabric once more, and you gasped as sensation returned to curl in your belly and warm your core. You could hardly focus on anything, could hardly speak, could hardly tangle your hands in the hair at the back of First's neck to pull him irrefutably and inevitably closer. A thin strap slipped from your trembling shoulder, and, in the distance, some innocuous animal yowled towards the heavens.

Teeth sunk into your lip when the First Hero's tongue found your clit once more, and outright hissed when he suckled the small bud into his mouth, lavishing it with equal parts tongue and teeth. Your thighs clenched against his palms, straining against a force much stronger than them, and your free hand scraped against rough tree bark. You didn't care, not when you felt like you'd fall to the ground if he kept this up; twitching and shivering, valiantly trying not to squeal like a wet seal begging for snacks.

You actually bit down when the coil in your belly tightened with each gentle suck, subtly wincing as the taste of iron slicked the flat of your tongue. First, oblivious with the fabric atop his head, continued his assault on your core with a fervor usually reserved for battle or a high-stakes arm wrestling competition.

Your climax arrived swiftly and with as much fanfare as sex in the woods could offer, thighs re-clenching against his grip, head tossed back, ribs rattling and contracting against the confines of your chest. A burning feeling gripped your pelvis, as bright and blinding as the burgeoning dawn, and, for one wonderful moment, the world was reduced to technicolor flashes and the fading sensations between your legs.

Breathe, your mind whispered as it returned, knees threatening to buckle as you swayed against the tree.

"Oh my," you puffed, leaving out the perfunctory 'Hylia' to that statement. It was the kind thing to do, especially when First's head popped up once more, cheeks and chin somehow even more soaked than before. He smiled, and you felt weak all over again. "Oh my goddesses. Thank you. I love you."

No words were exchanged when the First Hero slid your thigh from his shoulder, pressed a kiss to your right hip through the dress, and stood. His lips were on yours in an instant, and heat flared in your stomach when you realized that you could still taste him over yourself.

The kiss was too much and not enough. You wrapped your sore arms around his shoulders, pressing as close as you could, if only to feel the beat of his heart through yours. First's groan was soft and cut-off when your knee half-pressed between his legs, brushing the warm bulge in his pants.

Your neck craned just enough to deliver a nip to his earlobe. "Sit down."

First sat; quietly reluctant to part, but always willing to indulge. His legs stretched before him, long enough that you were standing between them without moving an inch. You tried not to giggle when the toes of his boots wiggled, walking forward until you were close enough to slide directly onto his lap, grinning when the First Hero's hands immediately shot to your hips, kneading the flesh in a manner so respectful you nearly forgot he had been between your legs moments prior.

You allowed your hips to shift against his covered erection, undoubtedly smearing slick along his pants as your clit throbbed in time with your heartbeat. "Is this okay?"

"More than," First grunted, closing his eyes and exhaling a shaky breath. He was still holding your waist, fingers pressing on-and-off rhythms to your skin. You wanted to shuck off his belt and show him just how much you loved him.

Your hands fisted the hem of his tunic, preparing to flip it over to the real prize. "Can I?"

The lovestruck look on his face told you everything you needed to know. Soft blonde hair tickled your finger pads as you slipped your hand down down down, past his loose belt and tight waistband and just-right v-line, until flesh met flesh and you were gripping something harder than those glorious abs of his. First's gasp was soft, restrained, as you stroked your thumb over him, only mildly hindered by the fabric of those damn pants. "Think you can be quiet?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

First nodded—biting his lip when your thumb made another soft pass—and you couldn't resist kissing him again, using your free hand to flip the edge of his scarf more securely around your shoulders as tongues slid together and two breaths mingled into one. You could tell he liked this; from the way his cock twitched against your palm to the varying pressure applied to his hips.

It was like a miracle when you finally fished his dick from his pants, giggling into First's mouth when it slipped from your grip to smack against his abdomen, a pearl of precum already glistening at the flushed tip. Normally, the sight would serve as your cue to suck his soul out through his penis, but time was of the essence, so you broke the kiss, hiked your skirt up, and rose just enough to position the head between your thighs.

You rocked your core down, coating warm flesh in even warmer slick, and wondered how it was possible to be satisfied simply through closeness. You didn't need sex; you didn't need his fingers or his cock or his lips, but you did need strong arms across your torso, unwavering icecap eyes roaming every inch you had to offer, the rumble of a half-baritone voice in your ear.

"Please," rasped the hero below you, hips jumping with each slow grind you gave against him. He was panting, cheeks flushed a color redder than the blood pulsing within them, and, Hylia, if it wasn't the prettiest color you'd seen on him. No more words were exchanged, but you knew.

You always knew.

A soft gasp left your mouth as you allowed your hips to lower; down and down and down until your cores lay flushed and your thighs clench hard against First's ribs. He doesn't say anything, but you see just how affected the hero is by the way he turns his head to the side, lips pursed and cheekbones flaring. He's trying so hard to not make a sound, and so are you, even as blunt nails dig into soft flesh and you can all but hear your heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly, deliberately, you shifted your weight, determined to savor the feeling of him buried so deeply in you that it bordered on an ache. The cool metal of his wayward belt buckle dug into the underside of your thigh, a sharp contrast to the feverish press of his abdomen against your palms, and you traced your hand up his belly in an effort to ground yourself.

This is real, you see him telling himself, past pleasure-puckered lips and scrunched eyes, beneath skin and muscle and bone. Inside you, he twitches; waiting, without watching.

You begin a rhythm so slow it makes your thighs burn. You're not used to this—life on the road with eight other individuals hardly allows for any such activities, but you've found a way more often than not. You've learned to be quiet and quick, to hold each other with nary a sound.

But now, staring down at his flushed face, you want to throw it all out the window. You want to dig your nails into quivering flesh, draw noises unbridled, and sink your teeth into the junction between shoulder and neck.

"You feel so good," you panted into the warm lake air, bracing the flat of your palm against his chest, fingers scratching against rough green fabric. Another shiver, another twitch, another half-hearted squeeze to your hips. It's perfect, but it's not enough.

It isn't long before your mind forces your body to go faster, movements heralded by the insistent tugging sensation in your belly. It's tight and only getting tighter when a half-gloved hand sneaks to rub soft circles over your clit, fingers splaying across quivering flesh. Your eyes snap to First's; now open and staring you down with a look of pure desire. He looks like he wants to flip your positions and take you right on the damp forest floor. You reckon you look like you'd let him.

A whine slips past your teeth when the head of his cock brushes that spot, angling your hips in an attempt to recreate the sensation. It works, and the world seems to fade as you bend to plant a kiss on First's lips, moaning when his hands drift to squeeze your backside and his hips give on-and-off bucks into you. The knot in your belly grows tighter and tighter, igniting muscles and nerves alike until you're shivering and gasping and scratching your nails up his chest.

"You're going to be the death of me," First's voice rumbles in your ear as he sits up slightly, keeping you pressed to his chest with one strong arm. You bite your lip as the change in position has him shifting even deeper in you, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. "Is this okay?"

You responded by pressing your forehead to his, murmuring: "More than."

First's breath grew ragged when you ground down onto him once more, hips bucking to meet your downwards thrusts with a force that seemed to punch the breath straight from your lungs. Time felt like it was simultaneously speeding up and slowing down as the knot in your abdomen began to tighten once more. The arm around your back held you closer, deeper, and the contact had you shivering anew, goosebumps popping up along your arms and torso.

A sort of broken gasp slipped from your mouth when First's hand slid between your legs, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. Your hips stuttered at the sensational onslaught—toes curling, muscles contracting, breath puffing in the warm air—and it was nearly enough to make you sob.

Don't stop, you wanted to whisper, to plead, but his hips gave a particularly passionate thrust and you found yourself momentarily unable to process anything but the thick cock nestled within your abdomen and the rapidly tightening coil just above it, until everything seemed to snap and you were halfheartedly muffling your noises against his neck, lips pressed tightly against damp flesh. First was next to groan, giving several on-and-off jerks before stilling, your core tingling as something warm and sticky splattered against your walls.

It's too much, not enough, and, against all odds, you keep breathing. It's hot and it's heavy, just enough to stay alive and keep any traitorous black spots from infecting your tear-blurred vision. Your body feels caught between dying and coming to life, slumped against the hero beneath you with muscles more akin to watery gruel than contracting fibers. He's almost as hot as your panting breaths, chest heaving right alongside yours, as if your heartbeats have synched and you're minutes away from cardiac arrest or some other innocuous medical disaster—

"—I'm going to die," you panted; recovering, thighs trembling, cunt clenching.

"Please don't," he said, with a smile that was a bit too pleading to be strictly for fun. "I won't survive."

Your head fell forward. You allowed yourself a sigh that was half to recover oxygen and half to let him know just how beat you were. You also allowed two fingers to tilt your chin up and a pair of lips to press against yours. First's kiss was as soft as he was; a vow and an apology wrapped in one simple gesture, while careful hands stroked up your hips and stomach and ribs, then back down until goosebumps pimpled in their wake.

"We should clean up," you murmured halfheartedly, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck with a soft chuckle. "Hylia forbid someone finds us."

"Indeed," was First's response as he made absolutely no effort to move. You wiggled your hips minutely, feeling his softened cock shift within you. You could have slid off of him, pressed another kiss to those soft lips, and dressed with no amount of grace, but your body refused to follow through, as if the feeling of warmth against your skin was more important than any sense of perceived decency. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't.

It took twenty embarrassing minutes for either of you to twitch into any sort of productive action. You were the first to slip to the side, cringing at the cooling slick between your legs and wondering if braving the freezing lake water was worth getting clean. Eventually, First hauled himself up and offered his hand to you in a gesture so chivalric it almost brought tears to your eyes.

The walk back to camp was a quiet one. Wild was nowhere to be seen, likely having traipsed off to create more mischief elsewhere. You didn't mind, not when a certain pink-haired hero glanced over and made a face of pure disgust.

"Get a damn room," Legend hissed, eyeing your intertwined hands. He didn't know, and maybe he never would.

You took a seat on the bedding, gaze flitting around the clearing as the other members of the chain prepared for sleep. Dinner–hearty clam chowder, courtesy of you and Wild’s efforts–had concluded minutes earlier, leaving you full and satisfied after a long day of traveling. 

Not that you weren’t used to life on the road, having lived in Wild’s world for a good three years after waking up, alone and scared, in a grassy field–where you met when he saved you from a guardian. With nowhere else to go, you had joined Wild in his quest to defeat Ganon, though he hardly let you do any defeating considering your limited combat knowledge. The rest was history, as was your inexperience with a sword, thanks to another member of your rag-tag group, Legend. Once ornery and sarcastic, he had warmed up to you significantly quickly after you fell (literally and figuratively) into his world through, you guessed it, another portal. 

But, as of late, things had been… strange. It was no secret that you and Wild shared a close bond from the years spent together, and while nothing had ever become of such closeness, you always felt that there was something more behind his casual touches and glittering grins, not to mention the way he always seemed to pout when your attention was stolen by something or someone else. It got particularly bad when Legend would sidle up to you during the long treks, claiming you were their “weakest link” in a snarky tone while somehow managing to be good company through the ordeal, though sometimes you wondered if the stories he told of his adventures were a bit… exaggerated. You weren’t an overly distrustful person by any means, but doing five separate dungeons in one day seemed excessive even for (one of) the heroes of Hyrule. 

You suppressed another shiver as Legend’s gaze seemed to burn a hole through you, slicing past skin, muscle, and bone to examine your very soul. If his burned, then Wild’s seared, like you were a piece of meat in a pan. 

It was for protection, you reasoned; weakly, pleadingly. There were countless creatures loose in the woods, and you were close to the treeline.

The campfire crackled. You wished it would grow tall enough to obscure you from their gazes.

Setting down the fabric, you patted your knees and stood up. "I'm going on a walk."

"'S gettin' dark, darlin'," Twilight said from his place against a nearby tree, casting a suspicious glance at the approaching night, brows furrowed. Wild and Legend's gaze left you for a split second, and you felt sick at the way they glared at the Rancher; united and divided in equal, terrible measures.

Several heads nodded in agreement.

You bit your lip. Fuck, he was right. You couldn't even use the excuse of needing fresh air because that was all you had been getting–you were in the middle of nowhere, for Hylia's sake!

"I'll go with you," Wild's voice cut through the still air like a knife. His eyes were bluer than the holy steel of Sky's blade, glowing with an almost otherworldly light as he studied you over the licking tendrils of the fire.

Legend dusted the skirt of his tunic-dress, boots crunching over the dead grass as he stood on two feet. Feet that could chase you down in the blink of an eye, and had traversed every nook and cranny of countless nations. "Me too," he spoke softly, with only a fleeting trace of his usual biting sarcasm. There was something devastatingly similar about both of them, and you knew there was no way you could back out now.

The bid was up, and now it was time to reap the rewards.

Your legs felt as wobbly as a newborn foal when you began to walk, knowing they would be two steps behind you. Past Warriors (concerned, eyes never leaving the hunch of your shoulders), Wind (oblivious, but not blind), Four (kaleidoscope of caring, not stepping in), and Time (the only Hero who could, though it was a long-standing debate on if he would).

The camp faded as you pressed on, guided only by the frenzied, rattled beat of your heart, and the last fading rays of the blazing sun through the rustling canopy. Fallen leaves crackled beneath your boots, and you felt more high-strung than a puppet. Wild and Legend's stares tore holes in your back, flaying your soul for their perusal and sending dreaded shivers down the metaphorically-exposed bones of your spine.

A huff of breath.

You shoved a lock of rose-red hair behind your ear.

Wild coughed.

The trees seemed to laugh at your cowardice.

Legend's age-ridden, joint-pained sigh was palpable in the chilled air.

Your heels stung from how quickly you whirled to face them.

"What the hell, guys?"

Both men froze. They were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. United. Divided. Legend brushed a lock of strawberry-lemonade bangs behind his pointed ear, gaze measured, while Wild was the picture of the soldier he would never be: stiff, mouth tight, irises alight with an emotion you didn't dare decipher.

The Veteran's huff was gruff, far too casual for someone who watched you like you would disappear into thin air if he turned away for a mere millisecond. "...What are you going on about now? You scared of the dark or something?"

Your fists clenched at your sides, buried in the folds of your borrowed tunic. Was it Wild's? Legend's? You couldn't remember anymore. "I am not," you bit out, a bit harsher than intended. Then: "Is there something on my face?"

"You're perfect," said Wild without missing a damn beat. He blinked and rubbed the back of his neck with an expression that further convinced you that he would never be sorry. He was inching ever closer, as was Legend, and you wondered if sprinting into the darkness would grant you the modicum of space you prayed for.

Perfect? No. Petrified? Hell yes.

Crack.

All eyes snapped to the right, trained on the hazy treeline where the noise had emanated from. You couldn't remember the last time their gaze had left you, but the thought was quickly banished when a rumbling growl rattled the air, drowned out only by the loud shiing as Legend and Wild simultaneously drew their swords.

"Shit," you hissed, just as a gaggle of lizalfos drew from the wandering shadows. They moved like the predators they were; fluidly, without pause, eyes glowing gold in the firebright sunset.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears when the first lizalfos lunged, lips peeled back to reveal hooked teeth that glinted in the tangerine light. Legend wasted no time parrying the attack with his sword, and Wild wasn't far behind, a hissed war cry slinking from his lips, pulled back to reveal a smaller set of canines that were no less dangerous.

The battle, if it could even be called that, lasted hardly a minute, with you standing to the side in a position that only enhanced the terrifying awkwardness of the situation. Heart in your throat, watching as your companions tore through the hoard like they were flies. Small, buzzing, annoying flies. It was no secret that they were strong–they were heroes, for Hylia's sake!–but there was something to be said about the feral glint in Wild's eyes, or the way Legend would look at you, blood on his hands, throat, sword, and not bat an eyelash.

You shivered, and not from the cold. An urge was building in your gut, not dissimilar from the kind you felt when confronted by an unfathomable horror. But it wasn't the same, not by a long shot.

The lizalfos fell quickly. Several carcasses lay strewn across the blood-soaked ground, slashed at the throat, belly, and face. Their eyes, lifeless, bleak, stared sightlessly at the star-speckled sky as blood wet the fallen leaves.

Wild and Legend turned. Simultaneously. United, but not together. United, but dangerously. United, but in love.

You ran.

Clouds of breath puffed in the chilled air as you tore through the forest, guided by nothing but your own, raging heartbeat. The trees melded into blurs of brown and green, branches stretching skywards like the twisted limbs of an eldritch creature. The ground crunched between your boots, and you could hardly find it in yourself to be mad about the obvious tracks your footwear left behind. Anything to get away, if only for a fleeting, torturous second.

Anything to breathe without the threat of one of them crawling down your throat.

Through the haze of adrenaline, you could barely make out the sounds of footsteps behind you. Barely make out the crazed, frantic huffs. Barely make out the fingers reaching, reaching, reaching for the back of your tunic.

Your heart damn near leapt from your throat when something grazed your back, then locked tight around fluttering fabric, and you were dragged backward, forced to skid to one of the most jarring halts of your life. A scream ripped from your throat, silenced only by the hand–heavy with fat rings, glistening in the faded light–cupped your chin and pressed your jaw closed, while a evergreen-clothed arm wrapped around your stomach. Legend's chest molded against your spine, fully trapping you in his vice-like grip, and you could only jerk uselessly when moist breath fanned over your neck, sending goosebumps skittering down the chilled skin of your arms.

"Why'd you run?" Legend breathed, tone heavy with the thrill of the chase. More breath hissed over your neck; soft, like a ghost, and just as terrifying. "We're just protecting you."

Moments later, Wild slid into the clearing; cheeks pink, hair a tangled mess that you just knew would be a bitch to brush out. He looked every bit the savage everyone joked he was and you hated yourself for daring to find that attractive.

"Damn, you're quick," he huffed, a hint of a pout infecting his tone. Blood dotted his cheeks and neck, and you didn't even want to look at the mess on his tunic. Damn Champion, always finding a way to make a mess out of himself.

Legend's arm tightened around your midsection, and he pressed his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder, unbothered by the thin layer of sweat soaking your skin. Something warm and wet darted to slick over your flesh, and you damn near bucked him off, a startled yelp slipping past your lips, zinging against the heat of his hand and dizzyingly-opposing chill of the rings.

This couldn't be happening. You were in the middle of nowhere, for Hylia's sake! With nothing to your name but a small knife and the clothes on your back. "L-Let me go!" you tried to hiss, but it came out garbled, the sound blocked by the thick fingers slotted over your mouth.

Legend's chuckle vibrated against your back. "Not a chance," he spoke calmly, with a smile you could almost see, and Wild was suddenly in front of you. They pressed close, closer than you had been with anyone, much less two crazed men with weapons that could end you in less than a second.

"You'll be safe with us," murmured the Champion, gently brushing the hair away from your sweaty forehead. He couldn't have been more than a few inches away, leaving you free to study every inch of his grinning face for hints of the mask he so obviously wore. What else was beneath those eyes–bluer than the sky, bluer than blood?

At long last, Legend's hand left your face, moving to splay at the base of your neck, only to be replaced by Wild's thumb. The Champion's calloused skin brushed over the plump of your bottom lip, dragging it a millimeter down to reveal the barest peek of hidden canines. He pulled back, letting the flesh pop back to cover your only true weapon in this situation, and leaned impossibly close. "Pretty," whispered the Hero of the Wilds with that sick, delicious, terrifying gaze.

"Very," whispered Legend, and you were momentarily shocked that they were capable of agreeing at all.

Wild's head ducked, nose brushing your cheek as his body molded to yours, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, abdomen to hardness--

Your thoughts snapped to a screeching halt as you registered the distinct... appendage pressing against the flat of your gut.

Fuck no.

Without warning, your head shot in a downward arc, smashing against Wild's nose. The hero yelped in pain, jumping back as he clutched his nose, streaks of crimson already leaking to stain his skin and tunic. Legend's grip loosened, likely in surprise at the sudden action, and you wrenched free, stumbling away from the two men, panting harshly. Well, that's what you would have done had a hand not sealed around your wrist like a manacle, yanking you into Wild's tight embrace. His nose was bleeding profusely–he really ought to have that checked out–but the look in his eyes was nothing but... was that hunger? The fuck?!

"Nice try," rasped Wild, arms curling around your back like the limbs of a tree. Unyielding, binding in ways that made you want to set something alight. The Hero of the Wilds leaned close, close enough that the blood from his nose began to drip on your skin instead of his. "Didn't know you were into that, Princess."

Outrage replaced terror as you registered the bulge still pressed against you. "Are you getting off on this?!" you seethed, unable to believe what you were seeing– er, feeling, but it was all relative when his fucking dick was pressing against you through his trousers.

Wild licked his lips, and, coincidentally, some of the crimson blood leaking from his likely-broken. He offered you a smile, and you shivered at the reddish tint his teeth had taken on. "Can you blame me?"

You were appalled. "You're fucking insane."

"Takes one to know one," hummed Legend as he reacquainted himself with your back; hands on your shoulders, breath on the shell of your ear. His tongue darted to flick the soft point, and you hissed: "Get the fuck–"

"–on?" interrupted Wild with a shit-eating grin. It was the most normal expression you had seen him make since this nightmare began. "I agree."

Your cheeks burned, and you rushed to rectify the situation. "That's not what I meant and you know it–"

Legend's arms wiggled to your hips, gripping them through the fabric of your tunic and trousers. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed against your backside through that Hylia-damned not-dress, and it was starting to piss you off. Just who did they think they were?!

A droplet of crimson dripped onto your collarbone. Then another, until it was like someone had cried blood on you.

"You're bleeding," you pointed out in a tone dryer than the Gerudo desert. Just like your pussy.

"No shit," grunted Wild, though the grin remained, like he was having the time of his life. You could relate.

"Gross," you rolled your eyes, trying to distract yourself from the way they were all but rutting against you... and how warm your core felt because of it. No! Bad thoughts!

A yelp left your mouth when Legend delivered a sharp nip to your ear, hard enough that you wouldn't be surprised if your own blood had been drawn.

"Liar," the Veteran hissed, and you were mortified by the spike of heat that slithered down your spine. "You're enjoying this as much as we are."

"Fuck no," you snarled, hoping that your expression conveyed the sheer amount of disgust and contempt you held towards them. Behind you, Legend's eyes darkened. Behind you, the Veteran gave the Champion a subtle nod.

Your thoughts froze when Wild dropped to his knees before you, staring up at you with those big blue eyes that managed to be as innocent as they were poisoned. He glanced at the Hero of Legend again, and, before you could blink, there were hands at the waistband of your pants.

"What the hell?!"

Your first instinct was to jump away, but Legend's grip was too strong, holding you fast as the Hero of the Wilds worked your trousers and undergarments down in succession until they bunched just above your knees. 'Bare' was too easy a word to describe what you felt when the pads of Wild's fingers traced up your thighs, settling on the points of your hips, rubbing soothing circles that only served to spur your heart like a spooked horse. Pupils blown, hands shaking against your flesh. Was he nervous? Fuck.

"Stop, please," the words fell from your lips like a prayer. A plea.

The first touch against your pelvis made your gut clench, a hot, broiling warmth brewing in your belly. A whimper forced itself from your mouth, and you would swear up and down that it was merely a sound of despair.

"I'd do anything for you," whispered Wild against the skin of your stomach. Anything, but let you go, it seemed.

Legend's lips slid to the side of your neck, no longer hesitant as he slicked his tongue up the side of your neck, from base to ear. Tasting you, memorizing the flavor of your sweat for his sick purposes. "Good girl," the Hero of Legend cooed against moist flesh, and Wild's eyes fluttered shut, like he was the one being praised. You squeezed your thighs in a last-ditch effort to halt the insanity that was taking place before your very eyes.

Legend tutted, and a hand detached from your waist, wiggling between your legs with about as much difficulty as killing a chuchu. You yelped when his fingers immediately found your clit, pinching the small bud with enough force to make your thighs quake, creating the perfect opportunity for the Champion to slot himself between them once more, eyes wide and innocent and so, so wrong.

You were screwed.

Literally.

"Just relax," Wild cooed through the fog. Legend's hand returned upwards to secure you even more firmly in place, and the Hero of the Wilds took it as a sign to lean it, now a hairs-breadth from your core, which was uncomfortably, traitorously wet. You could feel the strings of slick against the skin of your inner thighs, the Champion practically purring as your scent washed over him in pulsing waves.

"I hate you," you spat. It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Wild only hummed, his breath fanning over every inch of your lower half. You cursed every deity in existence at the realization that it felt good. "That's okay," he said, like your words meant nothing, or he had already called your bluff. He wiped a droplet of blood from his upper lip, then gripped the bottom of your thighs, forcing them to hoist up on his shoulders. "You don't have to like me to like this."

Without hesitation, he closed the distance, licking a broad stripe up the entirety of your cunt, from clenching hole to swollen clit. The hero's eyes snapped shut, and a deep, sinful groan rumbled against your folds. Your mouth fell open in shock, only snapping shut when Legend chuckled against your neck. The bastard knew, and he was enjoying it. They both were.

"Wild..."

It was hardly a whisper, barely a breath, yet Wild heard it. He always did, and always would. Your mind flicked to your journey together; before the others, before the madness, when it was the two of you against the world. What you wouldn't have given to have had him like this months ago, but now... now, things had gone sour, good intentions--if there were any to begin with--buried beneath a thick layer of sickly-sweet desire.

That's not my name, Wild's beautiful eyes said. You ignored it, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that you feared you would never see again. Maybe then, things would be right. Maybe then, you could do this right.

But it simply wasn't meant to be. There were no heroes in sight when you opened your eyes, only two men. Two men with blonde hair and the most gorgeous lips you had seen. Two men who wanted something they could have had in a heartbeat.

A fat, wet tongue rolled along the puffy bud of your clit, slicking a (un)healthy concoction of your juices and his saliva onto the tender flesh. Your thighs trembled around Wild's head, and a small, sniveling part of you was glad he had maneuvered you like that, if only to avoid them seeing the way a few simple touches could have your knees buckling like a newborn foal.

You choked on a gasp when Legend rocked his erection against the curve of your ass, one hand roving up to cup your right breast through your tunic. Deft fingers teased your flesh through the fabric, eventually settling on the pebbled bump of your nipple, twisting and pulling it until you were squirming, chest heaving for a reason embarrassingly different from mere panting breaths.

"Fuck," you hissed, forgetting yourself for a brief moment. WIld's chuckle was light, and it was almost easy to sink into the protective embrace of dissociation. You could pretend his nose was broken for a different reason than self-defense. You could pretend his hair wasn't mussed from chasing someone down. You could pretend that he wasn't staring at you like you were only thing in his universe.

The Champion pulled back, his chin shiny with equal amounts of slick and blood. You didn't look down, not wanting to know how much of it had gotten on you, much less the way his tongue swept out to lick at the combined liquids. "That's the idea, princess," he told you, and you debated crushing his head between your thighs just to prove a point, though the bastard would probably like that. Weirdo.

Without another word, the hero dove back in, lips molding around your clit once more. He gave a strong suckle, and your hands clenched into fists, a moan threatening to bubble put from the depths of your body. You mourned the loss of movement, as Legend had seen fit to cage your arms to your sides with his own, rendering them useless. Wild's hands had moved to your hips, gently massaging the tense flesh as his lips and tongue worked tirelessly over your bud. He had always been dedicated, so it wasn't a surprise that that... personality trait would carry over to the bed– woods, because you were all animals now.

"You're so quiet," the Hero of Legend murmured against your neck, hands still worrying your breasts, pinching and plucking at random, horrifyingly-tantalizing intervals. There was a harsh twist; he hummed, while you cursed the whimper that slipped between your teeth. "I think we both know you can do better than that, Princess."

You don't know shit, you wanted to say, but Wild's tongue slipped inside you and the words died on your tongue, replaced by a sharp, keening hiss. Fuck.

Legend's grin could have cut through rock. "Thought so."

"Go to hell," you managed to spit, but he was unfazed. A hand gripped your chin, forcing you to face him. Blazing purple eyes regarded every inch of your flushed, panting face, and the Hero of Legend gave a chuckle that couldn't have belonged to anyone but a villain.

"Only if you're there with me."

His lips were warm when they met yours, much softer than the rest of him. Your eyes widened as he kissed you, gentler than you would have expected. A tongue slowly slid along the seam of your lips, and it was a shock that he seemed to be asking permission.

Fuck it, you decided.

Wild's tongue swirled in a tight circle, forcing a gasp to bubble from your throat. Legend swallowed your noises like a man starved, eyes fluttering shut as he bore your weight, kneading above your heart in a manner that you were only realizing the tenderness of.

Link, the Hero of Legend, kissed like a dying man.

Desperate, unyielding, passionate. What the fuck was this?

"I love you," he breathed against your lips, and the words were far too sweet to belong to someone so rough, so calloused. You weren't sure they belonged in anyone's mouth tonight.

In one swift motion, you wrenched an arm free, catching the exact moment his eyes widened, expecting a retaliation of some kind. What he didn't expect was the harsh thread of your fingers in pink-blonde hair, nor the harsher pull that brought his mouth back on yours.

The kiss was messy, full of tongue and teeth in a manner that was so unlike the first one. Because you were in control–

You caught his tongue between your teeth, nipping it hard enough that the faint taste of copper temporarily overrode all others, small pearls of red drooling from the corners of your lips, slicking the point of your chin, eliciting a soft groan from the hero. If he wanted to play rough, you were going to pay it back tenfold.

–And you were going to make sure they remembered that.

Your other arm was freed without hesitation, leaving Wild to shoulder most of your weight, while Legend ensued you stayed upright. Good, they could work for it. Within a milisecond, you had Wild by the hair, yanking him from your cunt without an ounce of gentleness. He whined, like a dog being denied a treat, and you let a small scoff fall from your lips, eyes focused squarely on the Champion.

"If you don't make me cum in two minutes, I'll find someone who will," the threat slipped out far easier than you expected. Maybe you were angry, or perhaps this was how things were always going to play out. Either way, considering it would have to wait, especially when he was looking at you like you held the world in your palm.

Wild leaned forward, tongue out, waiting for permission. All he was missing were some dog ears and a tail.

You gave a nod, keeping your expression dismissive, and he all but descended upon your cunt. Gone was the previous gentleness, replaced by hard suction and a relentless, firm tongue that lapped at your entrance with a speed that would have made anyone jealous. It was only when you felt something different prod at your hole did you give pause to wonder just what the hell you were doing, though not for long when Legend reclaimed your lips.

The first finger inside you was uncomfortable. The second, less so, but you still found yourself hissing into the Veteran's mouth at the intrusion. Wild stilled his motions, studying your face for any signs of true discomfort, and, once satisfied that there was none, he began anew with renewed ferocity, crooking his fingers against your gooey walls as his tongue slicked a steady circle around your clit.

You broke the kiss with Legend with a soft gasp, letting your head fall against the Veteran's shoulder as the Champion practically fingerblasted you into oblivion, a familiar pressure building in your abdomen. It never came this quickly, but you were far too out of it to care. It had been a tough week, after all.

Wild's finger began to pump inside of you, keeping a steady pace as they curled and scissored. He was putting himself to work, as was Legend, who you were certain had been groping your chest for at least five minutes now. "C'mon," the Hero of Legend murmured, delivering a nip to the shell of your ear while his hands busied at your breasts. "Cum for us."

Shut up, you wanted to hiss. If that didn't work, you could kiss him again, and make sure his tongue would never leave your mouth. Heroes didn't need to speak, right? Wild certainly managed fine with sign language on his harder days.

Your thoughts were cut short when the Champion's fingers curled within you, rubbing against that one spot with purpose. His expression mirrored an intensity you had only seen in battle, or creep-watching session, and the sight of such single-minded focus was, well... it was doing things to you. Terrible, wonderful things. Things that made your cunt clench harder, spasming around war-gnarled digits, and, when a third was added, your only instinct was to bury your face in Legend's neck, eyes squeezed shut as you fought to regain control.

"It's okay," murmured the Hero of Legend, like that would fix everything. Like he could just slap a bandage over your heart and head, and it would be fine again. "Just let go," he coaxed, eyes never leaving you for a second. You didn't register the wetness on your cheeks until it was licked away by the Veteran. Had you been crying?

There was a thrust from Wild's hand fingers, a sharp suck of his mouth, and the world melted away.

Every nerve in your body fired simultaneously as white-hot pleasure streaked through your being, igniting your flesh in what had to be the most intense climax your hazy mind could bother remembering. Maybe you were screaming, or the pressure in your mouth was Legend's neck instead of your tongue, but it was all relative when basic thought had become this taxing.

Boneless and spent, you collapsed against the Veteran. Thighs shaking, fingers twitching, chest heaving. The fingers retreated from your core with a soft pop, and a hazy whimper left you at the sensation, which mophed to a louder whine when the Champion's tongue pressed against sensitive flesh. He didn't let up, seeming hell-bent on cleaning the cum from your twitching folds with a fervor that really should have concerned you.

"S–"

Legend's hold was gentle as he eased you back to Earth, careful not to jostle the hero nestled between your thighs. If anything, Wild seemed to relish the change, his hands sliding beneath the fabric of your tunic to grip your hips while you squirmed, exhausted, against the Veteran's chest. One large hand took both your wrists, trapping them in his vice-like grip while his erection settled firmly agianst your backside. Fuck, you had nearly forgotten about that.

The Champion's mouth reaquainted itself with your clit, and you hissed as the pain of overstimulation shot through your core. Too much, it was too much!

You yanked against the restraining hold, but the Hero of Legend merely tightened his grip, head dipping to murmur in your ear. "Almost there, princess," like his dick wasn't actively rutting against your ass. "Just one more."

One more? Refractory period who?!

"Unless you want something more," he paused to let the words hang in the air. A finger traced up the length of your throat; slowly, surely, and so devastatingy unlike the way his hips rocked against you. "filling?"

A low hiss rose from the depths of your chest, and you would swear up and down that it wasn't out of need, or the way Wild's touch was starting to feel good again. These fuckers hadn't even given you room to breathe before they were at it again, and the only thing holding you back was the fact that your arms were too exhausted to rip their balls off.

"Hate," was all you managed to grit out. The word felt wrong on your tongue.

"Love," corrected Legend with a sweet kiss to your temple.

"Bite me."

"Gladly."

You yelped when his head dipped and a set of teeth sunk into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to break skin. Hard enough that you felt warm blood trickle down your skin before it was lapped up by a soft, slick tongue that definitely didn't belong.

Wild, having apparently decided that you had gone too long without acknowledging him, pushed his fingers against the throbbing entrance of your cunt. Your toes curled, heels digging into his back, but the Champion only groaned. He was merciful enough to leave your swollen clit to the mercy of the cool night air, focusing instead on spreading you beyond repair. You half-heartedly wondered if the others had gone looking for you yet.

"So wet," mused the Hero of the Wilds, and you nearly growled at the self-satisfied tone his voice had taken on. Asshole.

No thanks to you, you wanted to hiss. But you didn't. Who knows what kind of ideas they would get from a statement as loaded as that one.

A huff. Breath fanned over your nub. "You never answered his question," Wild hummed. He began to pump his fingers like they were a cock. In and out; stroke, curl, repeat. The accompanying squelch was nothing short of humiliating, but the Champion's grin only grew, and Legend continued to suck at your neck like a leech, though you knew his ears were perked in expectation. "Do you want his cock or mine?"

"Neither," you snarled with such confidence that you almost believed yourself.

The Heroes of the Wilds and Legend shared a glance.

"That's fine," Wild shrugged, like he was discussing what to have for dinner instead of which one of them was going to have you first. His pupils seemed to wink at you, so large that you could hardly see the blue of his irises anymore. Before you could blink, he had his hands under your knees, hoisting your lower half into the air as Legend fumbled with something between you. Something that sprung free as soon as it was released, slapping against the flesh of your cunt and forcing a startled yelp from your lips.

"You still have it?" Wild asked, thumbs caressing the sides of your knees.

Legend's eyes rolled, and it was the most normal thing you had seen him do tonight. There was more fumbling. "Obviously."

You blinked when a small yellow vial was tossed to the Champion, who caught it with his teeth. What the fuck? At your bewildered gaze, Wild shot you a wink, set you back down against the Veteran's legs--which moved in such a way that they prevented yours from closing--and popped the cap with his mouth, spitting it to the side. Then, he tipped half the vial into his mouth, not bothering to wipe the corners before slotting his lips back over yours. Your eyes widened when his tongue wormed into your mouth, the liquid following close behind. It was thick and sweet, with an undertone not unlike honey, though you were intimately aware of the fact that it wasn't honey. This was something new, something dangerous.

Droplets of golden liquid dribbled from the corners of your lips when Wild pulled back, treating you to another one of his self-satisfied smirks. Instead of downing the vial, like he expected, he took it in hand once more and tipped the contents directly onto your cunt, a healthy bit splattering the side of Legend's quivering cock. The Champion reached forward, massaging the surprisingly viscous substance onto your flesh with two fingers, taking special care to coat your clit in a thick, slimy layer. You whined and wriggled, the chill of the air contrasting with the warmth of his fingers and the liquid. "What the fuck, Wild?" you managed to snarl, but it felt weak. It was starting to get hot. Why were you so hot?

"Don't be scared," the bastard himself cooed. "It's just a tonic we swiped from Hyrule's time. You'll love it, promise."

You highly doubted that, but the time for thinking had apparently expired, because the second Legend's cock slid against your soaked walls, a moan that could have shattered windows erupted from your throat.

"Shit," breathed the Veteran, finally releasing your wrists so he could wrap his arms around your middle. He bucked his hips once more, and the head of his dick made contact with your nub. You groaned again. Loudly. Wild couldn't have looked more proud of himself. "You always like this, princess?"

"Hylia, I hope so," the Champion sighed dreamily.

Legend's breath ghosted over your neck as he panted; the tonic must have been affecting him too. Heat crept through your body, burning through blood and bone in search of your heart, your core, and your mind. It was so hot. Why was it so hot? You felt like you were burning alive.

You needed him. Them.

The jig was up, and you had bet on the losing side. You hadn't even bet at all, really, but none of that mattered when the only coherent thought you could hold was on how good they would feel inside you. How they would stretch you, take you apart like you were some kind of doll, and bring you back together in an amalgamation that not even a mother could recognize.

"Fuck me," you whispered, almost to yourself. Almost to whatever deity dared listen in. Legend's breath hitched. His cock pressed firmly against your cunt, and there were hands on your hips once more, coaxing you to rise, to make room within yourself for the Hero of Legend.

"Gladly."

All the air left your lungs when he pushed home in one smooth, uninterrupted thrust. Your head fell back against the Veteran's shoulder, fingers digging into his forearms for support. It was like your cunt had been set on fire, and every thrust stoked a fresh inferno within your depths.

"Good girl," he praised, beginning a quick, mind-numbing rhythm that had you all but drawing blood, writhing and crying like you were being murdered.

A new weight pressed to your front, and you barely had time to register Wild's appearance before he was kissing you. Reaching between your bodies to rub enticing circles on your clit, groaning into your mouth like he was the one being fucked, not you.

"You're so tight," Legend sighed, thrusting into you like he would die without it. His teeth grazed the bite mark on your shoulder, eliciting a full-body shiver before he bit down, drawing a scream from your throat. Wild swallowed your noises greedily, fingers flying between your legs with a ferocity that should have been terrifying.

The kiss was broken, and your blood ran cold at what the Champion said next; cheeks flushed, eyes like coals. "Not too tight for two?"

Fuck? Fuck!

Legend's teeth dug deeper as he slowed, still pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. He released you, and growled: "I'd love to see you try."

You were mortified at the throb your cunt gave at the pseudo-challenge. It was one thing to take a cock, but two? There was no way, no fucking way.

"W–"

But Wild's mouth was already on yours, tongue slicking against yours like a lover would, or someone trying to shut you up. Maybe it was both. His thumb returned to your clit, but there was something purposeful about the way he rubbed you. This was happening, you realized as soon as something thick and hot plopped against the top of your slit, a bead of shiny pre-cum leaking from the engorged tip. The preparation continued with a finger sliding into your cunt, joining Legend's still-moving cock, then another, and another, until you couldn't tell which way was up.

The tonic had certainly worked, though you would take the fact that you actually did love it to the grave. "Please," the word rolled off your tongue, ricocheting through the air, and you were unsure of who or what you were begging to. Wild? Legend? Both of them??

Legend and Wild were one and the same; two men, hellbent on destroying the sensible remnants of the person you were. You felt their desire through the Veteran's tender mouthing at your neck, and the way Wild splayed his fingers to ensue you could take him. The light of the moon bathed them in a ghostly light, accenting the stark differences in dress between the three of you. Where you were bare, clothed in only a tunic, they were in everything they set off with; pants pushed down, tunic-dress pulled up.

"Ready?" the Champion panted, cock grinding against your stuffed entrance, capturing your lips once more. You didn't know whether to kiss him back or bite his tongue until it bled. His nose had already ceased bleeding, but the flesh was beginning to swell in certain places. Setting it would be a bitch.

"Go fuck yourself," you hissed, a final act of defiance. A final cry in the roaring tsunami of heat.

"I'll fuck you," Wild promised, and, in one swift motion, he pulled his fingers from your cunt, replacing them with his dick. The world seemed to fall away when he pushed inside, blissfully slow to allow you ample time to adjust to the stretch. Legend had stilled, waiting for the Champion to sheath himself, and the three of you groaned in tandem when he finally did.

It was overwhelming, and all your thoughts scattered when the Hero of the Wilds gave his first thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure skittering across your body like spiders. There was no time to catch your breath when Wild set a punishing pace; hard, fast, and unrelenting. Legend was more than happy to follow suit, fucking you like he had something to prove while you moaned and writhed, clawing desperately at Wild's shoulders for even a hint of stability.

"Please," was the only thing you could think to say, the syllables slurring together as they continued to thrust into you, alternating in a way that ensued you were never empty. A small bulge was visible through your stomach from the combined side of the cocks in you, and both men groaned at the sight, snapping their hips to chase the high that couldn't have come sooner. You felt like a star, glowing and primed to burst, scattering droves of stardust in your glorious, final ending.

Legend's grip tightened. Two finger descended upon your clit, pinching and pulling at the abused nub, and you were done.

Your vision flashed whiter than the sun as you came, clenching on the two cocks inside you like a vice, so bright and brilliant that, for a moment, you feared you had died and gone to heaven. Wild's hips stuttered first, and he slammed home, a rush of scalding wetness filling you. Legend wasn't far behind, practically growling in your ear as he followed the Champion's lead.

The clearing was silent as you came down from your high, collapsing against Legend's chest with an exhausted huff. Wild cupped the back of your neck, keeping your head upright. His nose was bleeding again, and it took several moments to register the slow trickle of blood against the skin of your neck.

"Are you okay?" the Champion panted as soon as he regained his breath, blue eyes roving your face for any flashes of pain or panic. When there was none, his back straightened from its pleasured curl, and you felt a pair of lips against your own; soft, comforting, everything you needed.

"Okay," you mumbled, not quite able to banish the oozing sensation of cum running down your leg from your mind. Your brain felt soft, stuffed with cotton, and it would be a long time coming before you fully came to terms with what the hell had just happened. More fluid leaked down your thighs, spurting out around the cocks still buried deep inside you. Eyelids heavy, you let out a sigh more suited to a middle-aged man having an existential crisis. Wild shared a glance with Legend, and the Champion scooted backwards, pulling out of you with a noisy squelch.

A glob of cum blurted from your pussy.

You closed your eyes.

You let unconsciousness take you.

So the smut was NOT supposed to happen originally, but I got really inspired by "Mistake" by Stellar and here we are. Please know that this writing does NOT reflect the views of the author (me). I think rape, or anything that circumvents someone's right to choose, is a terrible thing and should be punished to the fullest extent of the law, but this is a yandere fic, so...

Still, he was warm. Very warm, and very cuddly, considering the fact that his entire, bare front was smooshed to your side, cheek practically molded to the meat of your shoulder as the rest of his head curled into the junction at the base of your neck. Unhurried breaths filtered across bared flesh, stirring streaks of goosebumps in their wake, and it took every last shred of willpower in your body to cling to the remnants of sleep and pretend insomnia wasn't a thing you suffered from on the rare occasion.

It was a fruitless effort, seeing as your boyfriend breathed a soft hum, brows furrowing minutely as he was torn from sleep, the fingers at your hip curling around it a bit more solidly, pressing firm enough to feel the slight jut of bone.

"Morning," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and the smallest droplet of concern; nosing at the flesh of your throat, feeling the soft pulse of blood beneath sleep-flushed skin.

"It's not," you kept your voice low, if only in a halfhearted attempt to coax him to sleep again. Dry, sleep-tacky lips molded a delicate kiss to the bobbing column of your trachea, and Four shifted some in an attempt to regain his waking bearings, ear pressed above your heart as he continued to stroke your hip. It wasn't meant to arouse or otherwise tempt you–not yet, anyway–but you still felt your thighs twitch faintly beneath the fabric of your night clothes.

"I can hear your heartbeat," the Hero of the Four Sword murmured, though you suspected it was more to himself than anything. There was a short pause. His ear twitched against the top of your chest, and you swore you saw a flash of lavender in his muddy-moss irises. "Why are you up?"

"Dunno," was your response; mostly because it was simple. Simplicity was as much a gift as it was a curse, especially in the dark and dead of the night. "Can't sleep, s'all."

Four hummed. The noise vibrated softly against your collarbone. It was hard to see in the dark, but you were pretty sure he was smiling when he asked: "Can I get you anything?"

You shook your head; you hadn't the faintest clue what could cure this besides, well, sleep, but that seemed a bit out of reach at the current moment. Still, it was sweet. Very sweet. You could kiss him right now.

So you did.

It was a small peck–delivered to the crown of his head with such gentleness that you were sure not even the ever-vigilant Hero of the Four Sword would have caught it had he been asleep–but a small peck that was returned with a smooch to the underside of your jaw, lips pressed to soft, yielding skin, and a comforting squeeze of your hip. If he wasn't already molded to your side before, then he sure as hell was now. You didn't mind. You liked it when he got close.

A faint giggle filtered from your lips when the kisses–on your collarbone, neck, jaw–kept coming, each as warm and slow as the last. Your head lolled against the pillow to allow him access, a faint sigh of satisfaction huffing from your nose. In his eyes, through the vivid darkness, you swore you saw red, then blue, with a faint smattering of green and violet.

"I have an idea," the fingers at your hip began to tap a gentle, almost playful pattern, though it was the furthest thing from demanding. The muscles in your thighs twitched with interest, as did a few other key areas in your body, but you brushed them aside, allowing curiosity to take the wheel.

"What kind of idea?" you asked, a bit more awake now that the conversation seemed to be moving into the realm of deeper thought.

Fingers danced to the hem of your tunic, right where it rode up to reveal a sliver of skin; never dipping beneath, but feeling all the same. "The kind that'll help you sleep."

Well, you couldn't argue with that. Let it never be said that the Hero of the Four Sword wasn't a man of many talents, and while smithing and fighting were hard-wrought specialties, he was just as clever crafting an orgasm as a blade.

"Only if you want," Four finished after a hot, still beat, and you would have kissed him had the angle not been so precarious. He was giving you an out, like usual, though there was no way in hell you were going to take it.

Wordlessly, you turned on your side, if only to feel the soft bite of the thin chain around your waist, concealed beneath a layer of fabric. If only to feel the newfound press of his chest, and witness the way his eyes studied yours, searching for even the slightest inkling of hesitation. He wouldn't find it, but if he did, it was warm berry pie and snuggles for the rest of the night.

At this point, you would settle for either. At this point, his mouth and berry pie were one and the same; sweet and sour, ready to be devoured.

You slid an inch forward, acutely aware of how your thigh brushed against a very familiar firmness through the fabric of his leggings, and it was nearly impossible to keep from giggling at his sharp inhale. "I didn't know it was morning already," you teased lightly.

"I'll keep you up until morning," Four breathed before he went silent once more, expression dropping to a cool seriousness that perfectly matched the flashing lavender invading his irises. The hand not re-molded to the top of your hip cupped your left cheek, his palm saving it from the terrible fate of lying against a pillow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," the word was but a whisper in the dark as your arm draped over the curve of his waist, the sound swallowed when a calculating kiss was pressed to your lips, so soft it may as well have been open-mouthed. A sliver of moonlight peeked in from the half-cracked window, illuminated blonde hair in an almost ghostly glow that made you wonder how much more beautiful he could get before it killed him.

Almost languidly, you let your fingers trail down his spine, bumping against each individual notch until a faint shudder rocked Four's body and the barest hint of teeth could be felt sinking into your bottom lip. He pressed close enough to nearly vanquish any sense of distance, the heat between your bodies mingling and growing to a level that was so wonderfully unbearable.

Four's leg hitched over your own. Thigh to thigh, fabric to fabric. What would it take to replace it with skin instead?

Your pinkie finger wormed an inch beneath the waistband of his leggings, padding at the soft flesh as the remaining digits spread over the small of his back; simply feeling in a manner that many nights before had taught you. A soft groan told you that he did indeed still like having his lower back touched, so you kept at it, alternating between featherlight caresses and firmer presses to feel the deceptive clusters of muscle lying in wait beneath smooth skin. By this point, you could feel him against the curve of your abdomen; pressing, but not insisting.

In turn, the Hero of the Four Sword allowed his fingers to tangle in your hair as he continued to layer kisses on your lips. He continued to cup your hip, thumbing nonsensical patterns under the hem of your tunic, and you couldn't recall the last time you'd felt this comfortable in the dead of the night.

It didn't take much for the soft, steady pecks to morph into something far more sensual, accented by the warmth of his tongue slipping into your mouth to slide and press into every individual crevice, with yours curling against his with every presented moment, though you still had to pull away at odd intervals to suck in gulps of breath, feeling the faint streak of saliva cooling in the corner of your lips. At long last, the hand on your hip began to push beneath the soft fabric. It slid up the expanse of your stomach, then, slowly, brushed over each individual bump of your ribs with soul-aching intent, stopping just beneath the swell of your chest.

"Can I touch you?" he murmured against your lips, eyes glinting earnestly in the pale, pale moonlight, and your body shivered with the decision that it would most likely die if he didn't.

Only one word slipped from your mouth, though it was enough. It would always be enough. "Please."

Four didn't waste a second. He cupped your chest somewhat tentatively, stroking a calloused thumb over the round bud of your nipple, eliciting a thick, warm shiver that swept straight to your abdomen. The tunic bulged and shifted as he continued his exploration, only pausing to brush a fleeting peck to the corner of your mouth. It was sweet, like him, and you began to move your hand up and down the hero's spine, pressing against the notches and divots at random, soft intervals, inadvertently coaxing his hips to rock forward with a gasp than rang in the silence of the darkened room.

His thigh bore down on your hip, and, for a fleeting second, heat burned low in your abdomen, simmering with something dark and wonderful and now. Your free hand tangled in his hair, tugging gently at the straight blonde locks in a manner that was leagues easier without his headband in the way. Four groaned low into your mouth, a sound that vibrated off of his tongue and onto yours. He began palming your chest with a newfound conviction, rolling a velvety nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and reveling in the soft moan the action coaxed from your throat.

"Link," the name slipped from between your teeth with startling smoothness, hanging in the still air like a prayer. Maybe it was.

"I'm here," he told you; gently, like an even softer prayer, and you shivered at the feeling of his fingers sliding back down your body to the hem of your tunic. Another kiss, slow and breathless, then: "I've got you."

A thin string of saliva bridged the gap when you separated; cheeks pink, breaths panting. Four's hair sat in mild disarray from sleep and, concurrently, all the tugging, but he never seemed to mind, so long as you would keep touching him like he was the last person in Hyrule. "I love you," you murmured as the string broke, then was reconnected as another sweet kiss was shared between the both of you. At the sensation of battle-worn fingers touching the bottom of your tunic, you moved your own hand down, shimmying the fabric up to your collarbone with a grin that betrayed just how ready you were.

"I love you too," was his reply, punctuated by the soft press of a kiss on the flat of your sternum. He didn't pull away immediately, letting you feel the lingering heat of his lips, the warm wash of breath as he spoke, smile bright against goose-bumped flesh. "So much."

It didn't take a genius to register the jump of muscle when your fingers pressed harder against the small of Four's back, nor the way he paused to take a centering breath before layering more pecks along the line of your body, each a hairs' breath below the last, scorching unseen marks down each available inch of you. It was tender, and it was exactly what you needed.

Then, he began to linger more, incorporating laving swipes of tongue and softer-than-silk pinch of teeth, all the while those beautiful, moon-swept, kaleidoscope irises molded to your face like one of you would burst into flames if the contact was broken for but a moment. A kiss to the center of your ribcage, where round bone gave way to a slight dip when pressed hard enough, and there was another scorching flare in your abdomen, accompanied by a familiar rush of wetness that you were almost uncomfortably aware of.

Four's thigh slid to rest on the bed as he scooted an inch or two downwards, not quite beneath the sheets, but you were almost positive you could have yanked them over the top of his head had you wanted to. You propped your torso up on a single elbow, still laid out on your side, and watched with barely contained interest as a hand settled on the waistband of your pants.

And, in the darkness of the familiar night, you heard him rasp amidst the rustling linens: "May I?"

The very thought made your knees uncomfortably weak. "If you want," was your reply, breathless as your cheeks flushed in the dark, though it did nothing to stem the excitement flowing through your veins. Fortunately, it was all he needed to hear before the Hero of the Four Sword, moved to grasp your hips, maneuvering them flat on the bed. Naturally, the rest of your body followed suit, until your back hit the mattress and the ceiling couldn't have appeared more disinteresting than it was in that moment.

Before you knew it, your bottoms were pulled down and discarded nearby, though he took special care to leave you in your undoubtedly-soaked underthings. The room was still dark, a testament to the reigning night, leaving Four a soft wink of shadow against the endlessly dark backdrop of your bedroom wall, but you'd felt as though you'd never seen him clearer; moving to kneel between your legs, hands tracing up and down your thighs as they spread to accommodate him. Moreover, he was still fully clothed, which felt vaguely unfair, but you chose not to comment at the realization that warmth still radiated through his leggings and seeped from the skin of rough palms. Palms that eventually moved to cup the back of your knees, lifting them a bit higher.

"I'm sorry I woke you," you blurted softly, a bit desperate to find a way to break the thickened silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, by any means, but he had been sleeping so peacefully until your own mind decided you were in for a rude awakening.

Four shook his head, though it was difficult to make out in the low light. "I don't mind," he murmured back, and you were hardly surprised when the first place his mouth found was the side of your left knee. A giggle bubbled from your throat at the first press of kiss-swollen lips. You couldn't help it. You were ticklish.

The Smith smiled against your skin, trailing more kisses from the inside of your knee to a soft line down your thigh, and, before long, you were squirming with the herculean effort required to keep from laughing outright, even as he continued, eyes glimmering with each cut-off noise that managed to escape.

"H-Hey, that tickles," you tried to say, reaching up to thread a hand through his hair, which only seemed to encourage the little bastard, if the way he grinned at you in the deep, dark night was anything to go by.

"That's the point," Four responded smoothly–with a chuckle that promised everything you wanted and nothing you didn't–and it was with great amounts of squinting that you finally noticed the lavender tint swirling in mossy-green irises. Goddesses, and you were nearly positive he couldn't get any more handsome. A beat passed, and you could have sworn the tips of his ears flushed a bit darker. "I like hearing you laugh."

Maybe it was the honesty in his tone; the raw, unfiltered emotion in those eyes that you were so lucky to call your own, or, perhaps, the way his palms cupped your thighs like they were something precious. Like you were something precious.

"I like you," the words slipped out before you could stop, or at least reword them, but Four never quite minded any late-night word vomit in the manner you did. For yourself, at least.

His smile could have illuminated the land itself. "Thank The Three," the Hero of the Four Sword chuckled, mostly at his own joke, and partially because you were also laughing, hand slackening in his hair, and it would be horribly rude to not join you.

This was nice. You liked this. No expectations, or rush. Just you and him. Just you and Link.

"Were you worried?" you managed to tease between giggles.

He didn't miss a beat. "Never."

A final peck was placed on your knee before the Smith moved to the opposite one, meandering licks and nips and smooches and everything in between to tender, shivering flesh. Your core clenched around nothing, and you were fairly sure your underwear was all but ruined after this. Even with your fingers woven tight in his hair, you didn't pull or twist, letting Four go at his own speed. It's what he would have done with you, what he always did with you.

You were torn from your thoughts by the first press of lips on the skin just above the hem of your undergarments. The scent of arousal was so strong that it was a feat unto itself to pull your mind from the depths of itself and glance down at your lover as he spoke.

"Can I use my mouth?"

"Please," was all you said, all you could bring your tongue and throat to form before exhaustion crept in, and your blood pressure hit the embarrassing high of someone practically dripping onto the sheets.

The Hero of the Four Sword was quick, gently shaking your hand from his hair before hooking his thumbs on the waistband of your underwear, shimmying them down your hips, then thighs, and ankles, discarding them with the same gentleness as your pants. He sat up just enough to press a kiss to each of your calves, grinning against smooth flesh when you giggled and squirmed.

"Link!"

It was hard to tell where exactly he was looking, but you still felt the sweep of a moss-tinted gaze sweep to your face, belly, core, chest, which allowed your own to shyly study the straining bulge in his leggings. Sometimes you swore he could get off from simply looking at you.

As if on cue, Four bent, legs unfolding beneath him to lay flat on the remaining bedspread, though you wouldn't be surprised if his feet dangled off the edge of the mattress. When he began to kiss your thighs again, it wasn't to tease–well, maybe it was, if you were being honest with yourself–but to feel the warmth of your skin, taste the salt of your sweat, and maybe, just maybe, hear the cut-off peals of laughter as you reacted to each swipe and nip and peck. But the moment you opened your mouth to speak, he switched tactics; nudging your thighs a fraction wider.

You sucked in a breath when his thumbs parted your lips, dripping with slick from what felt like hours of anticipation. The first press of the hero's tongue against the soft bud of your clit was a tentative one, eyes glued on your reactions through the darkness. Despite the sensation being far from new, your thighs tensed with the desire to clench and feel the pointed tips of his ears pressing into sensitive flesh, though you supposed you would have to settle with gripping the sheets with one hand while the other rested atop his head; untangled in hair, but willing to the moment it felt right.

The second stroke was longer as he tasted the entirety of you. A part of you wondered whose benefit the slow movements really were for, but it mattered not when he groaned into your folds, begging to lap anew like you were the first drink of water he'd had in years, all the while your legs trembled with the effort to keep from clamping down and never letting go.

"Fuck," you breathed, breathless as it was. Four's eyes were purple, green, purple, purple, like a brought of lavender so fresh it still had the verdant stems attached. The corners crinkled when he smiled. Your fingers dug into his scalp with the softest pressure, but you didn't grab him. Not yet. "Can I–?"

"Go ahead," the hero murmured between strokes, and your fingers did just that, tugging lightly at the rich blonde strands in an attempt to ground yourself against the nigh-overwhelming sensations. The soft moan that rumbled against your clit told you all you needed to know about that particular action.

Four's tongue flicked across your folds in a pattern that was too familiar not to recognize. You were awed by the realization that it was likely his name he was spelling atop your sex.

The first orgasm, when it came, wasn't a violent, era-shattering affair. It came slow, like the gentle crash of tidal waves on the beach, and while there were no stars or gloriously blinding fireworks, you felt the swell of heat as vividly as you felt his fingers grip your thighs as it washed from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes. There was something deeply romantic in falling boneless against the bed, chest heaving and eyelids fluttering, while two fingers slipped into your entrance on the tail end of the high, curling upwards in a practiced gesture that sent tendrils of heat skittering to your head and heart.

"L-Link," you gasped with every last bit of oxygen in your lungs, squeezing his hair in an unpredictable rhythm that only seemed to encourage the man between your legs, eyes half-lidded with love and lust in the pale, silver moonlight.

"I'm here," he said, only pulling back when you began to whine in overstimulation, bottom lip and chin gleaming in the dull light. His fingers remained in you, but you knew it was more to feel than anything.

I know, your mind whispered in the cool twilight.

At long last, Four sat up again, only to scoot forward to press a slick-soaked kiss to your lips, following the soft, insistent tug on his hair. You kissed him back with a sleepy determination, uncaring of the taste coating his tongue as it slipped into your mouth. The Smith's cheeks were a pink so vibrant not even the night could conceal, and, for a fleeting second, you made to reach out and touch him through his thin leggings, only to be stopped by a hand around your wrist.

"You need sleep," your hero murmured, just as the first rays of the approaching dawn broke through the window. Pleasure wasn't transactional, but you wanted to repay him all the same, even with how heavy your eyelids were beginning to feel.

"I need you," you mumbled; not a command, nor a request, because you were truly exhausted, and what was love without sacrifice? He didn't respond, not verbally. Neither did you, when he leaned to press a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth before settling at your side--hips tilted away and arms draped over your waist--tugging the blankets over the both of you. A soft shiver ran down your spine when he buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder, mumbling:

"Tomorrow, sunshine."

Your gaze flicked to the window and subsequent lightening horizon, and you smiled, head tilted to tuck your nose against the top of his head.

Tomorrow.

Dark Link: Ass, and he's not afraid to say it. He's not really Hylian, but ass appreciation seems to transcend most species, so his obsession likely started the first time you bent over in his presence. Not the best with self control, so don't be surprised if he just grabs a double handful out of the blue, though Dink does try to keep it on a slight down-low in public on the basis of him being public enemy #1, though he's willing to be the villain if it means getting a piece of that ;)