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Cherri hadn’t really been listening to her knight, Apokuna, not in any meaningful sense. Apokuna was there, of course, as she always was: a steady presence at her side, quiet, watchful, dutiful to a fault. But Cherri’s attention had drifted elsewhere, caught instead on the easy entertainment of another knight’s voice.
Katie stood a few paces away, speaking with the kind of confidence that bordered on self-congratulation. Her armor gleamed under the warm torchlight of the Red Kingdom’s hall, polished to a shine that suggested she cared just as much about appearances as she did about reputation. Every word she spoke carried a certain weight, or at least, she believed it did.
“—and during the eastern campaign, I was personally commended for my leadership,” Katie was saying, chin lifted just slightly, as if the memory alone deserved acknowledgment. “It’s not often a knight is recognized so directly, but I’ve always held myself to a higher standard.”
Cherri tilted her head, her lips curving in a small, almost lazy smile.
“Oh?” she chimed, her tone bright, curious, but just a touch too exaggerated to be entirely sincere. “A great knight?”
There was a softness to her voice, something playful, but beneath it sat a thread of something sharper, amusement, maybe, or quiet mockery.
As she spoke, her gaze drifted, not to Katie, but past her.
To Apokuna.
For just a heartbeat, their eyes met. Apokuna wasn’t smiling. She rarely did. Her expression remained composed, unreadable to most, but Cherri knew her well enough to catch the subtle shifts. The slight narrowing of her eyes. The stillness in her posture that wasn’t quite calm, but controlled.
Apokuna wasn’t looking at Cherri.
She was looking at Katie.
Not casually, either. Not politely.
She was studying her.
Measuring.
There was no outward hostility, no obvious challenge, but there was a quiet intensity to it, like she was cataloging every word Katie said, weighing it, testing it for truth. Cherri’s smile deepened, just slightly.
Katie, for her part, either didn’t notice or chose not to. She continued, undeterred, her voice flowing smoothly as she moved on to the next part of her story. "Yes, I’ve served under several distinguished commanders, and each of them has—”
“Maybe,” Cherri cut in, her voice slipping neatly over Katie’s, smooth as silk, “my lady Apokuna could learn a thing or two from you.”
The words landed lightly. Too lightly. For a moment, it almost sounded like praise, like admiration, even. But the effect was immediate.
Katie’s breath hitched, the rhythm of her speech breaking. Her shoulders stiffened, and whatever confidence had filled her posture faltered just enough to be noticeable.
“I… I can?” she asked, the question tumbling out before she could quite stop it. There was a flicker of something uncertain in her eyes now, like she wasn’t sure if she’d just been honored or set up for something she couldn’t quite see.
The space between the three of them seemed to stretch. The hall, once filled with the distant murmur of voices and the crackle of torches, felt quieter somehow, like the moment had pulled a thin layer of tension over everything else.
Cherri didn’t look at Katie. She was watching Apokuna now. Waiting.
Apokuna didn’t move at first. For a brief second, she remained exactly as she had been, still, composed, her gaze steady. But then something shifted. Subtle, but unmistakable. Her attention left Katie entirely. Slowly, deliberately, she turned her head. Her eyes settled on Cherri. There was no confusion in her expression. No hesitation. Just a quiet, controlled sharpness, something that sat just beneath the surface of her otherwise calm demeanor.
“Excuse me?”
Her voice cut cleanly through the silence. Not raised. Not harsh. But precise. It wasn’t just a question. It was a warning.
Katie’s uncertainty lingered for only a moment longer before self-preservation won out over pride. “Oh—well,” she said quickly, forcing a small, strained smile as her eyes darted between them, “I wouldn’t want to impose. Duties, you understand.”
No one stopped her. Not Cherri, who merely hummed in vague acknowledgment, nor Apokuna, who didn’t even spare her a glance now. Katie dipped her head, too fast to be graceful, and turned on her heel, the polished plates of her armor clicking softly as she made her retreat. Within seconds, she was swallowed by the movement of the hall, leaving behind a space that felt noticeably quieter… and far more charged.
Cherri watched her go for a heartbeat, the corner of her mouth still curved in that faint, knowing smile. Then she felt it. Apokuna’s gaze. She turned her head slowly, as if she hadn’t been expecting it, though they both knew she had. Apokuna was still looking at her.
“Excuse me?” she repeated, but now there was a shift in it, less interruption, more… inquiry. Something edged in steel, but not without warmth.
Cherri blinked at her, all innocence. “What?”
Apokuna took a single step closer. Not enough to draw attention from across the hall, but enough to close the distance between them, to make the space feel more intentional, more private.
“My lady,” she began, her tone careful, respectful, as it always was. But there was something else threaded through it now. Something quieter. Sharper. “You seemed quite invested in that knight’s… qualifications.”
Cherri’s smile widened just a fraction. “Shouldn’t I be? She is a great knight, apparently.”
“Apparently,” Apokuna echoed, the word flattening just slightly. There was a pause. Then, softer, just a touch. “And I am not?”
It wasn’t defensive, exactly. But it wasn’t entirely neutral either. Cherri let out a quiet, amused breath, folding her hands behind her back as she tilted her head, studying Apokuna as if she were the one being assessed now.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No,” Apokuna agreed, her gaze steady, unwavering. “You implied I might have something to learn.”
There it was again, that subtle edge. Not anger. Not quite. But something close to it.
Cherri stepped a little closer, deliberately mirroring the distance Apokuna had closed earlier. “Did that bother you?”
Apokuna didn’t answer immediately.
Her eyes flicked briefly over Cherri’s face, searching, like she was trying to decide how honest she was allowed to be.
“…Should it not?”
Cherri huffed out a soft laugh. “I didn’t realize my knight was so easily threatened.”
“I am not threatened,” Apokuna said, too quickly. Then, after the briefest beat… “I am… attentive.”
Cherri raised a brow. “Attentive.”
“To what reflects on you,” Apokuna corrected, though the line blurred just enough to make it sound like something more. Her voice lowered slightly, not in secrecy, but in focus. “And to who presumes to stand in comparison.”
Cherri’s smile sharpened, pleased now, clearly enjoying this.
“Oh?” she said lightly. “And what have you concluded?”
Apokuna stepped closer again. This time, it was enough to feel. Not improper, not in a way anyone else would question, but undeniably intentional. Her presence was firm, grounding, a quiet kind of pressure that didn’t demand attention but commanded it anyway.
“I think,” Apokuna said slowly, “that you were provoking me.”
Cherri didn’t deny it. She just smiled. “And if I was?”
Apokuna’s gaze held hers, steady and certain now. “Then I would assume,” she said, her voice dipping just slightly, “that you expect me to respond accordingly.”
Cherri’s breath caught, just a little. “Do I?”
Apokuna inclined her head, just barely. “You are my lady. Your expectations are… my responsibility.”
There was a shift in her posture then, subtle, but unmistakable. The easy stillness she usually carried tightened into something more deliberate, more precise. Like a blade being set into place.
Without breaking eye contact, Apokuna reached for Cherri’s hand.
Not roughly.
Not even urgently.
But with purpose.
She guided it, gently, but without hesitation, placing it against the center of her chest, just over her heart, where the steady rhythm beneath armor and fabric could be felt.
“Then allow me,” Apokuna said quietly, “to demonstrate how well I serve.”
Apokuna’s hand, still holding Cherri’s against her chest, applied the faintest pressure. The steady, strong beat of her heart was a metronome beneath Cherri’s palm, a stark contrast to the sudden, frantic rhythm beginning to flutter in Cherri’s own throat.
“Demonstrate,” Cherri echoed, the word breathy. Her playful defiance was still there, a shield she clung to, but it was thinning under the weight of Apokuna’s focused gaze. “Here?”
A ghost of something, not a smile, but an acknowledgment, touched Apokuna’s lips. “My lady’s chambers are close. Unless you wish an audience for this lesson.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact, leaving Cherri with the illusion of choice. The hall, with its distant echoes and prying eyes, suddenly felt exposed. Cherri swallowed, her earlier bravado evaporating under the heat of Apokuna’s intent. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
That was all the consent Apokuna needed.
Her grip on Cherri’s hand shifted, her fingers threading through Cherri’s with a possessive certainty. She didn’t drag her; she led her, a knight escorting her charge, through a side arch and into the quieter, torch-lit corridors of the royal wing. Their footsteps were the only sound, a syncopated rhythm on the stone. Cherri’s mind raced, a whirl of anticipation and lingering challenge. She wouldn’t dare. She’s too dutiful. But the firm set of Apokuna’s shoulders, the unyielding warmth of her hand, spoke of a different kind of duty entirely.
At the door to Cherri’s chambers, Apokuna released her hand only to push the heavy oak open. She gestured Cherri inside, followed, and closed the door with a definitive push. The lock slid home with a soft, heavy click.
The room was bathed in the soft, amber glow of a low-burning hearth and a few scattered candles. Shadows danced across the tapestries and the large, canopied bed.
Apokuna turned. She began removing her armored gauntlets, placing them on a side table with deliberate, unhurried precision. The quiet clink of metal on wood was unbearably loud. “Undress,” she said, her voice low and even.
Cherri’s chin lifted. “You presume—”
“I presume nothing,” Apokuna interrupted, her eyes finally lifting to meet Cherri’s. The controlled sharpness was now a blazing focus. “You provoked a response. This is it. Undress. Or I will do it for you, and you will find my methods less… ceremonial.”
A shiver, hot and liquid, traced Cherri’s spine. The brat in her wanted to refuse, to test that boundary. The woman beneath, the one who had been watching Apokuna for years, was already melting. With fingers that trembled only slightly, Cherri reached for the laces of her gown. She took her time, or tried to, each pull of a cord feeling like a surrender. The fabric, rich velvet and silk, pooled at her feet until she stood in only her thin chemise. The firelight painted her form through the nearly transparent linen.
Apokuna had shed her outer plating, standing now in her leathers and a simple tunic. She looked more dangerous without the full armor, more human, and therefore more unpredictable. She closed the distance between them in two silent strides. Her hands came up, not to embrace, but to frame Cherri’s face. Her thumbs stroked along Cherri’s cheekbones, a deceptively gentle caress.
“You play with fire, my lady,” Apokuna murmured, her breath warm against Cherri’s lips.
“Maybe I like the heat,” Cherri whispered back, her voice barely audible.
Apokuna’s answer was a low hum. Then she kissed her.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was claiming, demanding, a searing brand of possession that chased the last remnants of air from Cherri’s lungs. Apokuna’s tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her, dominating her. Cherri moaned into it, her hands flying up to clutch at Apokuna’s tunic, her body arching instinctively into the solid strength before her.
When Apokuna broke the kiss, Cherri was gasping. “On the bed,” Apokuna ordered, her own breathing slightly ragged. “On your back. Legs apart. I want to see you.”
The explicit command, delivered in that firm, resonant tone, unraveled something in Cherri’s core. She moved to the bed, the sheets cool against her heated skin. She lay back, propped on her elbows, and with a defiant glare that held no real defiance, she let her knees fall open.
Apokuna stood at the foot of the bed, her gaze a physical weight as it traveled from Cherri’s flushed face, down the column of her throat, over the rapid rise and fall of her chest where her nipples pressed hard against the chemise, down the plane of her stomach, to settle between her thighs. The thin linen was already darkening with moisture.
“The chemise too,” Apokuna said. “I said I wanted to see you.”
Cherri bit her lip, then gathered the hem and pulled the garment over her head, tossing it aside. She was completely bare now, exposed in the flickering light. A vulnerable, thrilling tremor ran through her.
Apokuna’s eyes darkened. She climbed onto the bed, not between Cherri’s legs, but kneeling beside her hip. One hand smoothed up Cherri’s inner thigh, pushing it wider. Her touch was calloused but incredibly gentle. “So eager already,” she observed, her fingers brushing through the neat, dark curls, coming away glistening.
“Apokuna, please—” Cherri started, not knowing what she was begging for.
“Quiet,” Apokuna said, not unkindly. “Let me serve.”
Then she lowered her head.
The first touch of her tongue was a flat, slow, deliberate lick from Cherri’s entrance all the way up to her clit. It was a mapping, a tasting. Cherri cried out, her back bowing off the bed. “Gods—”
Apokuna didn’t pause. She settled in with a focused hunger that stole Cherri’s breath. Her mouth was hot and wet and skilled. She used the broad flat of her tongue to lap at Cherri’s folds, soaking in her essence, then focused into a pointed, relentless rhythm on her clit. She didn’t just lick; she devoured. She sucked the sensitive bud into her mouth, applying a gentle, pulsing pressure that made Cherri’s toes curl into the sheets. One of Apokuna’s hands remained on Cherri’s thigh, holding her open with immovable strength. The other came up to cup Cherri’s breast, her thumb rolling a peaked nipple, pinching it just shy of pain.
The sensations were too much, too concentrated. Cherri was panting, a litany of broken sounds falling from her lips. “Ah—ah, right there, please—Apokuna!”
Apokuna responded by delving lower, her tongue spearing into Cherri’s entrance, fucking her with it in shallow, rapid thrusts. The wet, obscene sound of it filled the room. Cherri’s hips began to move of their own accord, rocking up to meet that wicked tongue. She was climbing, fast, a coil of pleasure tightening deep in her belly.
Just as the tension approached its peak, Apokuna pulled away.
Cherri whimpered, a sound of pure deprivation. “No, don’t stop, please!”
Apokuna lifted her head, her chin glistening. Her eyes were black with desire. “I decide when,” she said, her voice rough. Then she lowered her head again, but this time, she didn’t use her tongue first.
She bit.
Not hard, but a sudden, sharp pressure on the soft, sensitive flesh of Cherri’s inner thigh. It was a warning, a claim, a spark of bright pain that melted instantly into a deeper, more profound ache. Cherri yelped, her body jolting. Before she could process it, Apokuna’s mouth was on her again, her tongue laving over the spot she’d bitten, soothing it even as she pushed two fingers deep inside Cherri without warning.
Cherri screamed. The fullness was exquisite, the curl of Apokuna’s fingers unerring as they sought and found the swollen, textured patch inside her that made her vision whiten. “There! Oh, fuck, there!”
Apokuna set a ruthless pace. Her mouth returned to Cherri’s clit, sucking and flicking with devastating precision, while her fingers pistoned inside her, curling and pressing on that magic spot with every thrust. The dual assault was merciless. Cherri was babbling, her hands tangling in Apokuna’s dark hair, not to push her away, but to hold her there, locked in place.
The coil snapped. A tidal wave of sensation crashed over her, starting deep in her core where Apokuna’s fingers worked and radiating out in blinding, electric pulses. Her vagina clenched around the invading fingers in a series of rapid, involuntary contractions, milking them rhythmically. A gush of warm fluid, not urine but something clearer and slicker, escaped her, soaking Apokuna’s hand and the sheets beneath. Cherri’s whole body shook, her cries turning ragged and broken as the orgasm tore through her, wave after relentless wave.
As the contractions began to subside, turning into gentle, aftershock flutters, Apokuna slowly withdrew her fingers. She gentled her mouth, lapping softly at Cherri’s oversensitive flesh, drinking in every last tremor. Cherri lay boneless, utterly spent, a sheen of sweat cooling on her skin.
After a long moment, Apokuna raised her head. She looked at Cherri’s blissed-out, dazed expression. Then she brought her wet fingers to her own mouth and slowly, deliberately, sucked them clean, her eyes locked on Cherri’s the entire time.
Cherri could only watch, a new, dull throb of desire stirring in her spent body. She tried to speak, to muster some quip, but only a weak sigh emerged.
Apokuna shifted, crawling up the bed to loom over her. She braced herself on her arms, caging Cherri in. “Well?” she asked, her voice a low rumble. “Was the lesson adequate?”
Cherri, still trembling, managed a shaky smile. “It was… a start.”
Apokuna’s eyes gleamed. She lowered her head, her lips brushing the shell of Cherri’s ear. “A start?” she repeated, her voice dropping to a whisper that promised endless, delicious torment. “My lady, you’re still shaking. Your skin is flushed. Your heart is racing. I can feel it.” She pressed a kiss to Cherri’s pulse point. “I have not served you well enough. Not nearly.”
Before Cherri could even process the threat, the promise, in those words, Apokuna’s mouth was on her again, this time latching onto her neck, sucking a bruise into the tender skin. Her hand slid back down Cherri’s body, fingers tracing through the slick mess between her thighs.
“You’re still so wet,” Apokuna murmured against her skin, her touch probing, finding Cherri’s entrance once more. “So open for me. We’re just beginning.”
Cherri moaned, a mix of overstimulation and desperate, renewed hunger. “Apokuna… wait, I can’t… I just…”
“You can,” Apokuna stated, the words leaving no room for argument. Her finger slid inside, slowly, stretching the tender, clenched muscle. “And you will. I’m not done with you.”
Cherri’s protest died in a ragged gasp as Apokuna’s finger, then a second, slid deep. Her body, still thrumming from the first shattering climax, clenched in protest, a raw, oversensitive ache. “Too much,” she whimpered, her hands pushing weakly at Apokuna’s shoulders.
Apokuna didn’t budge. She kept her fingers buried to the knuckle, letting Cherri’s inner muscles flutter and spasm around them. “It’s not,” she murmured, her voice a low, certain vibration against Cherri’s throat where her lips still lingered. “Your body is still asking. Listen to it.” She began to move, a slow, torturous drag out, then a smooth push back in. The friction was exquisite and unbearable all at once.
“I said stop!” Cherri cried, the bratty command undermined by the way her hips lifted to meet the thrust.
Apokuna’s answer was to bite down on the curve of her shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but with a firm, possessive pressure that made Cherri yelp. The sharp pain cut through the haze of pleasure, a bright, clean line that somehow made the fullness inside her feel even more intense. Apokuna soothed the spot with her tongue, then lifted her head. Her eyes, dark and unyielding, held Cherri’s. “No. I’ve not served you well enough. You will come again. For me.”
Her fingers curled, a deliberate, searching pressure against that spongy, swollen place inside. Cherri sobbed, her back arching off the bed. “There! Gods, right there!”
Apokuna set a merciless, steady rhythm. Her fingers pistoned in and out, each inward stroke pressing firmly against Cherri’s g-spot, each withdrawal making her feel empty and desperate. Apokuna watched her face, studied the tears beading at the corners of her eyes, the way her mouth fell open on silent screams. “That’s it,” she coaxed, her voice rough. “Let it build. Give it to me.”
The coil was tightening again, faster than Cherri thought possible, a deep, internal pressure that had nothing to do with thought and everything to do with the relentless, perfect friction inside her. Her breaths came in short, sharp pants. She could feel the telltale flutter, the involuntary tightening that began low in her belly.
“I’m… I’m going to…” she choked out.
“I know,” Apokuna said, and her voice was almost gentle. Then she lowered her head between Cherri’s thighs once more.
The heat of her mouth was a shock. Her tongue, broad and wet, lapped at Cherri’s clit in firm, circling strokes, syncing perfectly with the thrust of her fingers. The dual sensation, the deep, internal massage and the focused, electric attention on her most sensitive nerve, was catastrophic.
Cherri shattered.
This orgasm was different. It didn’t crash over her; it erupted from the very core of her, a seismic event that locked her muscles and stole her voice. Her vagina clenched around Apokuna’s fingers in a rapid, rhythmic series of contractions, each one squeezing tighter, milking the invading digits. A flood of warm fluid gushed from her, more than before, soaking Apokuna’s hand and chin with a clear, slick rush. Cherri’s body bowed, rigid, as wave after wave of pure, mindless pleasure radiated outwards, leaving her trembling and gasping.
Apokuna worked her through it, her tongue gentling to soft, lapping kisses, her fingers stilling but remaining deep, a grounding presence as Cherri convulsed. Only when the last tremor had subsided into weak, occasional flutters did she slowly withdraw.
Cherri was a boneless, shuddering wreck. Tears traced clean paths through the sweat on her temples. She couldn’t form words, could only make small, broken sounds.
Apokuna moved then, not with urgency, but with a profound, deliberate care. She gathered Cherri into her arms, shifting them both until they lay on their sides, facing each other amidst the damp sheets. She pulled a soft woolen blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over Cherri’s trembling form.
Then she began to kiss her.
Not with hunger, but with tenderness. Soft, closed-mouth kisses pressed to her damp forehead, her tear-stained cheeks, the tip of her nose. She kissed the red mark on her shoulder, the faint pink imprint of her teeth on Cherri’s inner thigh. Each kiss was an apology and a claim, a silent language of possession and devotion.
Her hands smoothed over Cherri’s back, long, soothing strokes from her shoulders to the base of her spine. She whispered soft, meaningless words—“shhh,” and “I have you,” and “beautiful, so beautiful.”
Slowly, the violent tremors subsided. Cherri’s ragged breathing evened out, syncing with Apokuna’s own steady rhythm. She nuzzled into the hollow of Apokuna’s throat, her exhausted body going limp and pliant in the strong arms that held her. The room was quiet save for the crackle of the hearth and their mingling breaths.
After a long, peaceful silence, Cherri stirred. She lifted her head, just enough to look up at Apokuna’s face. In the soft firelight, the knight’s stern features were softened, her gaze watchful and warm. Cherri’s voice, when it came, was a hoarse, thin thread of sound, barely audible.
“You… you serve me well.”
A genuine smile, small and rare, touched Apokuna’s lips. She leaned in and pressed one last, lingering kiss to Cherri’s brow. “It is my honor,” she murmured against her skin. She pulled the blanket more snugly around them, her arms tightening just a fraction. “Rest now, my lady.”