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The Closet	By : kunihwoarang Category: +S through Z > Warcraft III Views: 10049 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft III, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Closet
- 1
Set sometime before WC3. Prince Arthas' long-time friend Jaina has just written him to say that she's in a relationship with Kael, and the human prince decides it's time to tell her how he feels about her. Little does he know what he will chance upon in her room at the Violet Citadel...
WARNING: Gratuitous lemon. Voyeurism. . Et. Etc. Etc.
...oh, and I'd just like to shamelessly plug my baby, "Six White Roses," which stars the same characters this story does. Believe me, it has plenty of smut -- but plot, too! :o :o :o http://www.fanfiction.net/~kunihwoarang is where you can find it...
Characters not mine...blah blah blah.

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~The Closet~
Arthas wasn't sure when he'd fallen in love with her, exactly. He'd always had some feelings for her, andely ely she, for him -- all childhood friends wondered at some point, didn't they? -- but it didn't hit him that it was actual love until the day he opened the letter.
She meant to tell him out of kindness, he was certain. They were best friends who told each other everything; her gloating was only with the kindest of intentions. But his vision had turned red and his temper had snapped the moment he saw that blasted elf's name on the paper -- an old friend of his, no less! How dare she!
It was in that moment that Arthas realized how much he wanted her.
The letter now lay in quarters on the floor of his room; he wrapped his cloak tightly about his shoulders, the new one with the Lordaeron insignia that Uther had given him, then stormed to the stables to fetch his horse. As an afterthought, he returned briefly to his room to grab his sword. Perhaps it would give him an intimidating aura and the elf would back off.
Arthas' lips flared into a sneer as he mounted the horse and rode for Dalaran.
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Jaina's room was empty when he arrived. Arthas stepped through the door and closed it behind him as he looked around. He hadn't been here since the day he'd helped her move in, and it looked much smaller with the furniture arranged properly. The room was slightly disorganized, with papers strewn across the desk and the bed unmade. A pair of pink cotton underwear sat on thoor;oor; he tried his best to ignore it. A stack of letters he had sent her were in a neat pile on the corner of her dresser.
The prince hung his new cloak on a hook behind the door; it was so heavy that it slid to the floor immediately. Eventually he gave up and draped it on the dresser; the papers on the corner flew off. He swore and bent to pick them up. There were dozens of letters here, many of which he didn't remember writing. One was scrawled in drunken script, "I love you, Jaina." He grimaced; he'd wrote that the night of his eighteenth birthday celebrations. She had never mentioned it, so he had supposed she'd never received it. There was a tiny lipstick mark in the corner; Arthas stared. That hadn't been there when he'd sent it. A shiver ran up his spine as he set the other letters aside and stared at that little pink smudge; his thumb ran across it, smearing the stain.
After a moment, he continued nosing around, the letter clutched firmly in his hand. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. Perhaps he was bored and passing the time. Whatever the reason, he soon grew bored and flopped backwards onto her bed. Now the prince could smell her scent in the bed sheets; his eyes slid closed as he cradled the letter to his chest. A sad smile spread across his lips as he pictured the look on her face as she unfolded the leader and saw it for the first time. Had she kissed it then, or later? What had her reaction been the first time she had seen him after she'd received it? He couldn't remember. It had been so long ago.
A thump sounded against the door. Arthas sat up, startled. Now someone rattled the doorknob. Arthas swore; he couldn't be discovered on her bed, cradling a letter to his chest, with big, sad, teary eyes. Someone rustled for keys, and there was another thump. The prince panicked. The door of her closet gaped at him; he stared at it for a moment, then, without really thinking, darted into it.
No sooner had he closed it than the door to the room slammed open. And there, clearly visible to Arthas between the slats of the closet doors, was the woman he loved locked in passionate kisses with a man he had once called his friend. The prince clenched the letter tightly with both hands to restrain himself from drawing his sword and slaying them both.
The door slammed closed.
Kael's right hand clawed ainaaina's rear; she moaned, and the noise jolted through Arthas' body. Now the elf kissed at her neck, and she tossed back her head, rapturous. Her sighs and groans were delicate, light, beautiful...
Damn them both.
The prince tried to convince himself to bury his face in his arms, but he couldn't look away from the scene unfolding before him.
Jaina pulled away; her lips bore a coquettish smile, and her cheeks were rosy. She gripped the elf's hands with hers and led him towards the bed. Her delicate hands pressed him firmly to a seat, then she stood on the floor less than a metre away from him. Kael's eyebrows peaked with confusion.
"Striptease," said the blonde with a definite growl.
Arthas bit his lip even as blood rushed to his groin at the prospect. Sweet, innocent little Jaina? Striptease? The contradiction was evident to him; why wasn't it evident to them? There was no way she would be able to pull it off.
His palm pressed to the closet door as he leaned in for a better view.
First Jaina undid her cloak; it slid to the ground. She danced startlingly well; her movements were fluid and showed surprising flexibility. Arthas watched, transfixed by her beauty, and the urge to burst through the door and slaughter the lovers began to subside.
Jaina pranced across the floor, sliding her bra along the elf's shoulder, dragging her stockings along his lap. Her skin was visibly soft even in the hard sunlight that poured through the window, and her figure was smooth and curvy. As she removed her panties -- Arthas was surprised to see they were black lace -- she set them on the elf's head and dragged them down his face. The elf's eyes fluttered closed and he let out a low, pained groan.
Arthas stared. Panties? Across her lover's face? Had she lost her mind? Half of him wanted to grab a cloak and run into the room to wrap her in it, shielding her back into the purity and innocence he had always associated with her. The other half wanted to knock her to the floor and force her thighs apart...
Her hand was still roving down the elf's torso; it gripped tightly into the robes at his crotch, and Kael cried out. He jerked her in for a long kiss that evidently contained plenty of tongue from both parties.
Arthas' hand formed into claws against the closet door.
Jainlledlled away with a smile on her face. She gathered her clothes and turned to walk towards the closet. For a moment, Arthas thought she would open the door and throw them in -- including those panties that would probably have a slick damp spot at the centre that oozed with her scent -- and the idea excited him even as he realized that she would undoubtedly see him.
The woman stopped in front of the door, however, and bent to lay the clothes on the ground, affording Arthas a full, close-up view of her breasts. The prince stifled a groan and scooted away from the door in an uncharacteristic moment of panic.
Now Jaina turned and walked back to the elven prince, her naked hips swaying. She slid onto the elf's lap and raked her fingers into her hair; Kael stared, his face frozen with fear. Arthas couldn't blame him.
"Your turn," growled Jaina, and her finger trailed down Kael's chest.
Arthas squeezed his eyes shut and looked away. He had no desire to see the man naked. He had no desire to see any of this; it was wrong for him to spy. His hand tightened onto the hilt of his sword. He wondered what Jaina would do if he charged out of the closet and waved the weapon around until Kael fled. Would she ever forgive him?
The seconds stretched into minutes; Arthas fought to keep his envy under control as he sheltered his face. The lovers were silent at first, but then Jaina let out a low, filthy moan

Arthas dared to look up again and saw that the woman now crouched on all fours over the elven prince, who now lay on his back. Her head was towards the closet in what must have been fate's attempt to torture him: he could see every expression on her face as the elf's hands roamed delicately around her body...
God, she was beautiful. Her eyebrows twitched together, then apart, and her small mouth hung open in an "o." Her cheeks were flushed. As Kael gripped her hips with one hand and began to rub between her legs with the other, she sighed and her head dropped, obscuring the pendulous breasts from view.
Arthas only intended to make a small adjustment. His erection throbbed against the taught fabric of his pants, and the sensation was starting to annoy him. But as he gripped himself she gasped -- just a tiny, quiet little gasp -- and he stopped thinking properly. His fingers flew to the clasp that held his pants togethnd hnd he loosed his erection from its confines. His cheek pressed to the hard wood of the closet door as he watched her beautiful form.
Now Jaina slid down onto the elf's rigid member. He let out a loud groan; Arthas ignored it, focussed determinedly on the woman's face. She looked down at her lover, an eyebrow cocked with what Arthas supposed was pride. Her body was still except for almost imperceptible gyrations that continued until the elf clapped his hands to her hips and arched into her with a gasp so distressed that even Arthas felt a moment of pity for him.
She sat above the elf and rocked, her hands roving the front of her body. Her head dropped back and she cried out in time with her strokes; her hands gripped firmly at her breasts as she pulled them. The hands roved, pinching the nipples then tugging the breasts then dropping to her groin, and she thrust faster now.
Arthas' hand pumped in time as he watched. He lifted his free hand in a half-fist to his mouth and bit firmly into his forefinger, determined not to groan aloud. Jaina suddenly leaned forward so that she bore her weight on her hands and began to thrust so loudly that Arthas could hear the wet, slapping contact from his position in the closet. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open as orgasm overtook him; he smashed his fist into a pile of clothes on the ground beside him, venting the emotions that couldn't escape vocally. Jaina criut, ut, her back arched, and within a few seconds Kael finished, too. The room was silent as the lovers slowed.
Arthas looked down at his lap and swore. He had managed to contain most of the liquid in his hand, but he couldn't exacbe sbe subtle as he rushed for a washbasin with a hand full of semen as he left her room. Besides, who knew how long the lovers would stay in bed? He cursed himself for getting himself into this situation in the first place.
He didn't have to worry about being trapped in the closet for much longer. Jaina was dressing now. She said something about an upcoming class; Kael tied a sash around his robes, then kissed her on the lips and headed for the door. Jaina waited until he had left, then turned and padded towards the closet.
Arthas' stomach dropped.
Now Jaina stopped by the door and knelt before it. She was so close that Arthas could feel her breath against his skin through the wooden slats."
"By the way, Arthas," she whispered, "I like your new cloak."
And Arthas saw that his cloak still rested in a heap on the dresser, proudly emblazoned with the Lordaeron insignia, clearly visible to anyone who entered the room.
Jaina flashed her eyebrows and gave a smirk he had never seen before, then turned. The door closed softly behind her. The room was empty; he was freed from his prison.
Arthas stared at the door with wide eyes and an open mouth; his cheeks slowly began to darken. At last he blinked and shook his head, then looked down at his hand. He'd find a place to wash his hands first, then try to figure out what the hell he had gotten himself into.
THE END...?
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The Closet